((main thread: viewtopic.php?f=3&t=1450))

By the chamber quartet, Harper Moore stood with Professor Devlin, shifting from foot to foot. Both men felt incredibly awkward to be in public, least of all in fancy red tie and wearing masks.

"What is that supposed to be, anyway?" asked Devlin sarcastically, poking Moore's mask with the mouthpiece of his pipe.

"It's a dapao," said Moore, indignantly. "A water tiger. Very popular mask in the Muluku Islands, I'm told."

"Hmm," said Devlin, who was not happy to be here. He edged himself further away from the crowd, pressing his simple black mask further up his nose. "I feel ridiculous. When's this donor supposed to be here?"

"Not for another hour, I'm told. Now stop whining."

Professor Moore looked nervously around the room, wondering if he would run into anyone he knew. Beside him, Devlin seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

Triston felt overwhelmed by all the colors and lights, as if she had stepped into some kind of abstract painting. Everything was a whirl of sights and sounds, made frantic by her need to rush around and serve. Music was played, and it seemed to bring all the chaos into time, a slow tempo controlling an ocean of masked faces.

In the corner of her eyes she thought she spotted a pair of bored patrons, and bored patrons were usually thirsty patrons, for no other reason then that they were bored. With this in mind, Triston aproached carefully, the slick plate holding glasses of wine balanced perfectly on the tips of her fingers.

She was dressed like the other staff at the ball, nothing noticably amiss about her costume to the naked eye. Infact, Triston was, in a way, still wearing her glasses, but had removed the frame and replaced it with her mask. Suprisingly they fit rather well, and thus she was as faceless as any other servant there.

" Would either sirs like some refreshments?" Triston bowed her head as she spoke, not realising it was Harper, but inwardly complimenting his mask, finding it quite interesting.

Harper recognized that little voice. He paused from scanning the room and looked down at Triston's yellow hair, and laughed.

"Well!" he said, amused to see that they had dressed the servants up again this year - it had been such a hit last year, he supposed they got a kick out of it. "Miss Bricketson, I presume?"

He did not bow, but he tipped his head a little towards her and lifted his mask.

"Castor, this is the woman I was telling you about," he said, patting his colleague on the back. "Triston Bricketson. She works for Poppy Denisent. Triston, this is my colleague, Professor Devlin. We're working together on the passive gene project."

"Good evening," said Devlin stiffly. He looked Triston over several times. "They made you serve the room tonight? They don't normally recruit handmaidens for that sort of work."

"Hardly fair, is it?" agreed Harper, smiling, glad to finally see someone he knew.

" Professer Moore?!" Triston squeaked in suprise when he lifted his mask, not having thought for a second it was him. She fumbled for a bit, caught off gaurd by his sudden appearance, before bowing her head again and uttering a short greeting.



" Its very nice to meet you. " Triston said, smiling brightly at him, the suprise having worn away. She had long wondered who professer Moore worked with, and was glad the curiosity had finely been satisfied.



" Oh, well actually, Im quite glad to be a server. Its so wonderfull, all the costumes and the music."

Someone with more hope might have enjoyed it less, thinking only of what fun it would be if they didnt have to wait on other people. Triston didnt have allot of hope, and, keeping in mind this was the best she would get, looked at the ball with child like wonder, happy to see the festivitys and with no urge to participate.

As Devlin bowed low to excuse himself and went to go get a glass of something stronger than champagne, Harper leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial manner. "You may be enjoying yourself more than I am," he confided, chucking. "Honestly, if you're not interested in masks and art, there's not much to do."

He lifted his mask for a moment; his face was a little red. "Plaster's dreadful. Say, do you imagine you'll get a break at any point? Someone is supposed to meet me here, and I'd like you to meet her. She's the new public voice of the project. But don't mention anything to Castor. He's dreadful about meeting people, he'd probably try to weasel out of it."

Triston smiled, and looked out into the crowd of people around them for a moment, before facing Harper again. " You could always dance,... but it seems a bit dangerous with such heavy masks." As Triston spoke she spotted to very red faced students, who seemed ready to collapse.



" A break?... Well, they didn't mention anything official, but the other servers said that after the party gets going, people have drunk enough to want to impress each other, so they try to snatch drinks off the plates wile we're moving about, to look cool." She sighed, as if it were some sort of tragedy that they would act to so foolish.

"This doesn't usually end well though, especially for new servers, so I was told to stop moving around when this starts to happen." Triston made a little shrugging motion, knowing it wasn't a real break, only a suggestion to avoid accidents. It did allow her to loaf about though.

" As for the public voice, I would love to meet her. She must be very brave, to be a part of this."

"I suppose so," said Harper after chuckling at Triston's honesty - the faculty did usually begin acting like children after a while. "Well, see if you can make it around this way again in an hour or so, she should be here by then. I'm sure she'd love to meet one of my volunteers."

He smiled briefly at Triston before looking out into the crowd once more - he thought he'd spotted a flash of red hair.

Triston bowed, obliviose to the drinks sloshing dangerously. Flashing him a quike smile, she began walking around slowly, trying to see who wanted some liquide social skills in the immediate vicinity, determind not to step to far away Moore.

(( Er, should Khy hop to this thread for the meeting?))

((i can join. i am assuming it is a little later than theo and khy's current arrival. if not, well...i've written it for any time of departure from main thread.))

Khymarah had enjoyed the ball so far. But she was here for a reason. Reaching up, she touched Theo's arm.

"Would you like to come with me and meet some work acquaintances? I was actually here for them." Lifting her head, she looked around the room. Was that...yes, it was. Smiling, she reached up and took off her blue mask, holding it in her hand. She had placed a soft blue eyeshadow on her eyes, along with a little liner and rich red lipstick. Raising her hand, she began to walk towards Moore, trying to catch his attention before barging in. She was slightly early, but it was a Ball after all.

Theophania beamed at Khymarah, thoroughly enjoying herself. She was slightly disappointed at being pulled away from where she was, but she had met so many interesting people so far. "I wouldn't mind." There was a brief absentmindedness to the statement.

She followed the red-head with relative ease, not really looking at who they were walking towards, but more out over the crowd at some of the intriguing costumes she had missed.

Moore's constant scanning of the crowd finally paid off; he noticed Khymarah, finding it difficult to miss her ruby hair even in a large crowd of redheads. He noticed a woman beside her, an albino galdor that he assumed was Gioran. He looked around at Devlin, who had turned away from the crowd to light a clandestine cigar.

"Miss Theraldon," he said, bowing low. "A pleasure to see you." He waited for her to introduce her friend.

Khymarah gave a small curtsy, smiling at the Theo.

"You too Professor Moore. Let me introduce Theophania Nadeau, she only arrived in Vienda a few days ago. Gioran, as you can see." She turned her smile back to Moore, looking around a little.

"Is your partner here tonight?" Her dual colored eyes fell on a man standing close by, back to them. Perhaps he was the one?

Theo curtsied, following Khymarah's lead and holding her mask to the side, as it also allowed her to see better. She smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you." She glanced at the same gentleman that Khymarah was looking at.

Professor Devlin had his mask up, and he was puffing on a cigar that smelled faintly familiar to Khymarah. The din of the crowd had filled his head, and he barely heard his colleague - probably chatting up some woman - until the younger man nudged him again.

As he turned around, his heart fell with a dull thud into his stomach.

His eyes traced over Khymarah's face, realizing with horrible dread that she would recognize him as well - the grey eyes, the weathered face, the knitted brows - even in his coat and red tie, he was the man she'd come to call Mr. Ceres, and all was lost. If she said something, anything, she'd give him away; conversely, if she told anyone in the resistance who he was, he was finished as well.

For a moment he merely gaped, unable to say anything. His mind was a total blank of panic.

Harper raised an eyebrow at him.

Khymarah's eyes widened momentarily, stunned beyond all saying. Ceres? She looked at Harper, then back to Ceres. Did Professor Moore know? Judging from the curious look on his face, she decided that he didn't.

Ceres?

She had to cover this, before it got suspicious. Lifting her fan, she waved it at her face, laughing lightly.

"Sir, I know my eyes can catch people off guard, but it's rather rude to stare." Glancing at Theo, she shook her head.

"See what I mean?" She said behind her fan, implying the earlier discussion about the galdori being scared of differences. Inside her heart pounded. He wouldn't rat her out to save his skin would he? If it came to that? Her gaze flicked back at him again, then to Moore.

"Does your rude friend have a name?" She asked with a little smile.

A little bit of the panic subsided, and Devlin chided himself instantly for letting his poker face be compromised; then again, he did have substantially more to lose than Khymarah...

"Professor Castor Devlin," he said quickly, giving Khymarah an uncharacteristically gallant bow. "Forgive me, madam. Far from it - I was taken aback by your beauty. It is an honor to meet both of you."

Apparently, this was not the Devlin that Harper knew so well; his other eyebrow shot up into his mask and he stared at him for a moment.

"Harper," said Devlin in a dry voice. "You didn't tell me I'd have the pleasure of meeting your associate this evening."

Professor Moore sensed the peevishness in his voice, and smiled - that explained it, Devlin's own brand of sarcasm. "I apologize for deceiving you," he replied, "but I know how shy you are. Ladies, a drink? Champagne? We should find somewhere to sit down."

Devlin's face was turning red, and he flicked his plain black mask down again with a small smile, one that didn't entirely cover up how flustered he was. He would have to talk to her immediately, as soon as possible; he hoped that Harper would find something to talk about with the albino woman. Maybe then he'd have an opening.

From across the room, situated near the seated Queen and her consorts, Headmistress Ophelia was watching.

Her mask was a simple affair, designed to resemble a forest rabbit. From behind its silk cover her black eyes noticed Professor Devlin's reaction to Khymarah; a frozen, vacant expression came over her.

"Ophelia," said the Queen softly, reminding her that she had been speaking on the topic of the country's trade relationship with Bastia.

"Oh, yes, my apologies," said the Headmistress quietly, and turned back. Her mind felt slowed to a crawl, like a field after a flash frost. Such a young woman...so beautiful. She wondered who she was.

The red head smiled with a little curtsy, relieved he had picked up an act quickly.

"You flatter me, Professor Devlin." She tested the new name, finding it strange to call him that after knowing him as Mr. Ceres. Laughing slightly, she blushed, a genuine reaction after the quick shock. Fanning herself, she feigned a little coyness.



Khymarah nodded, looking away from Ceres to smile at Moore.

"That would be lovely, sir. Theo?" She turned to the Gioran, trying to turn the attention on her. Occasionally, she would glance at Ceres over her fan.

Theophania noticed some glimmer of something breifly, recognition maybe? No, it couldn't have been. Shrugging it off internally, she smiled wryly at Khymarah, "Normally we don't leave them entirely breathless, though."



She bobbed her head, the curls again doing a dance. Looking up she caught a look at a flushed face before Devlin's mask covered it again. Ah! He was taken with Khymarah! Glancing at the red head, she was surprised to find a blush on her cheeks also. Perhaps it had been recognition! Theo smiled to herself, unaware of Khymarah having any previous attachments, and knowing nothing of this Devlin fellow, she took it upon herself to create an opportunity.



The albino stepped toward Moore, reaching out as if to take his arm and let him lead them to a seat. "I agree, we should look for somewhere to sit. Perhaps you could tell me a bit about what you do, Professor? Khymarah says that you are a collegue, but I know not of what." She smiled brilliantly, sneaking a peek at Khymarah and Devlin.

"Ah, yes," said Harper, not picking up on Theo's social cues but still happy to discuss his work. "I've invited the lady Theraldon to be the public voice of my research project. My colleague and I are researching passive genes, attempting to discover the source of the diablerie and, theoretically, put a stop to the damage it might cause..."

As he described the goals of his project, Devlin lagged behind with Khymarah. When they were sufficiently out of direct earshot, he muttered quietly to her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, keeping a fixed smile on his face. He was furious, and he wasn't quite sure why, but he took great pains to keep all emotion out of his voice. "I thought I advised you not to work with Mr. Moore. You have put yourself in great danger."

Khymarah held the fan in front of her mouth, keeping her eyes and expression light and cheerful. Inside she was a boiling sea of turmoil. He had advised her, but she wondered if it was really herself in danger, or himself.

"I would think to ask you the same question, Devlin. I couldn't pull out of the research. I have passive friends, and Moores research seems valid. Besides, I thought you said the only danger was the wick issue. Well, the majority of them are gone since the writ law came back into effect." She fluttered the fan, laughing gently as though Ceres had made a small joke.

"Is there something else I should be aware of, sir?"

Devlin saw an opening as Harper engaged Theo in conversation; without warning, he whisked Khymarah out of their line of vision, entering the crowd of dancers and starting to waltz with her in a manner that suggested he had not done so in many long years.

"Simply by knowing my name," he whispered, between gritted teeth, "you put yourself and the party in more danger than you could ever imagine."

As he turned them around to avoid being in the same place for too long, he imagined all the terrible ways Khymarah could destroy the resistance should she have a change of heart. Her response told him that she was unaware of how the resistance would react if they knew his true identity; that could be both a blessing and a curse.

"I will not ask you to forget it," he muttered, leaning in so he would not be overheard. "I want you to know how much is at stake. The party is unaware of who I am. If they knew, any one of them could give me away, and if that were to happen, they would uncover enough information inside my head to bring down everything. You are the only one who knows, do you understand?"

His words were cryptic enough so that even if he was overheard, no one would know what he was talking about, but he took great care to keep his voice quiet all the same.

"I regret not being able to explain better why you should have avoided Moore," he added. "I did not wish for you to be dragged into this."

----

Harper turned and noticed that his partner and Khymarah had vanished.

"Oh, dear," he said lightly, eyeing Theophania. "Seems we've been...er...ditched, I believe is the term."

Theo inwardly chided herself for not knowing the customs in Brunnhold. She carefully adjusted the motion to sweep away imagined dust on her skirt.



Her curls bounced as she nodded, "Ah! I think Khymarah is the perfect person. She's so genuinely lovely." Cherry-blossom pink eyes glanced back to see if the pair were following, it seemed like they were discussing something charming Devlin had said.

"It would be nice, I would think, to know that you wouldn't harm those you cared about unexpectedly. Though I only experienced the diablerie a very few times during my childhood, and none were much more than mildly traumatic." Her mind swirled, what did she remember about passives in Anaxas? Not much. It wasn't like Gior, where all galdori, passive or not, lived in the Temple... Her eyes widened as she remembered the things she remembered from her culture classes as a child; second class citizens - often treated less well than humans. Luckily, Moore seemed to have been distracted by their missing counterparts, and she put on a charming face to cover her dismay.



She briefly cast a glance to see if she could spot them, but to no avail. Shaking her head, "Ah well, some first impressions were meant to last... Tell me, Professor, how has your research been going? I suppose all your subjects are all volunteers?" There was something in the way she said the word, something cold that hadn't been in her voice before. She waited to make an appraisal of his reaction, trying to keep a charming expression about her.

Khymarah looked up into his eyes as they waltzed, keeping a girlish smile on her face. He was a rusty dancer, and his movements screamed tension.



Khymarah felt slightly angry at that comment. She swept around in the three step, gripping his hand firmly and keeping her shoulder squared.

"Sir, perhaps this should have been information you shared with me before? In the How?"



She blushed, rather overwhelmed by the sudden revelation. She felt a little fear rise in her stomach. If she was the only one who knew, and he felt she was a threat...would he kill her? The woman nodded in dull understanding, her fake smile worn like a second mask. Dual colored eyes looked up at him with a little anger and a lot of fear.



Khymarah lifted her chin and used her hand on his shoulder to pull him slightly closer, so she could speak closer to his ear.

"You should have told me. I'm a galdor, sir. How long did you expect to roam Brunnhold without the possibility we would run into each other? But its too late now for 'should haves.' The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. If I am in danger, then I shall have to face it when the time comes. If it does come down to me and them, I can assure you I will not say a word." Again, life became complicated. The ruby haired woman pulled away with a giggle in mock, demure admiration.

"Oh, goodness, no," he said, rather unnerved at the question. "We've never had any injuries. The tests are all done with machines."

Professor Moore led Theo down to a set of chairs by a bookcase, one that had been erected for the specific purpose of providing entertainment to bored partygoers.


He looked curiously at her, hearing the same sort of restrained indignation that he often heard in Devlin's voice.

"Naturally," he replied smoothly. "I compensate my volunteers as well as I can. However, as you can probably imagine, the subject of my research is a bit...well, taboo, here at Brunnhold. Even the passives don't like to think about their passivity, and I've had so few volunteers that, were I a suspicious man, I might suspect my colleagues of conniving behind my back."

He made a funny face.

"Despite those setbacks, however, we're on the verge of a rather interesting breakthrough - but enough about my work. Tell me about yourself. What brings you to Anaxas, madam?"




-------






"How could I have told you?" he demanded. "I perform my duties where I must. I am not here on a whim. I couldn't risk the knowledge that I taught here on a new member, no matter how much I trusted her."

He seemed to be trying to calm himself down; the scare had raised his hackles, but the reality of his situation was setting in.

"I realize this is not your fault," he said, a little gentler. "And I don't imagine you will give me away. The real matter is not your trustworthiness, or mine, but that our government has the means to extract the truth from us. As galdori, we are even more susceptible to truth-seeking spells than humans. You are now the key to bringing down the house of cards, and we must be more careful than ever not to draw attention to you."

The music slowed a little, and the room grew quieter as the dancers drew closer. Devlin realized his opportunity for clandestine conversation was over.

"Now that it's happened," he said, "I will protect you as best I can - not for my own interests, but because none of us are the keeper of our own secrets anymore."