Major Thread Fortuna Vitrea Est

[Caden S. Freemont]

@Lily Lesse @Matisse Dubois

"Oh, uh," Caden managed in response to the unexpected rudeness of the vixen. He would have thought Niceties would be more discerning in who they hired for such an event. He began to reach for the offered tray when another mustelid, akin to a marten but with different markings than Caden had seen, approached and took one of the small stacks of food. He glanced at the vixen, hesitating for only a moment to answer the newcomer's question before she did. Typically he allowed others to speak before him at events such as this, but his intuition told him the server did not find there to be much to enjoy that evening.

He grabbed several of the fingerfoods before she could press the tray towards him again. His other paw took rest on the hilt of his arming sword in its decorative sheath. "It's well enough," Caden said with an inclining of his head to the other mustelid. He was glad the beast had given him a topic of conversation to follow. Small talk was not something he found he particularly excelled in. "They've certainly recruited a fair bit of talent to entertain us tonight. That's the only reason I'm here, really. My daughter is playing a few sets. Otherwise I am not one for these sorts of affairs. But one must support family, after all."

 

[Asta Dalgaard]

@Marie "Whisper" Deftclaw

"Whisper," Asta said. "That being a nice name." She laid the music out on the ground in front of her. For each she hummed the tune just loud enough to be heard as she rubbed her chin in thought. Finally, the jill pushed the mazurka towards Whisper.

"I thinking this one. It having good energy for a party. Maybe even getting beasts dancing." Smiling at the small fox, she asked, "You writing these songs? They being very good."

 

[Liza Fairpaw]

@Kal Goldtail

"Good view of things from up here, eh?" Liza dropped down beside Kal, keeping just enough distance that she would be able to raise her bow and fly an arrow if the vixen turned out to be hostile. As it was, the mouse had an arrow on the string and the weapon held in front of her. The string was not drawn, but she kept her grey gaze on the fox. She had only noticed her several moments before as she patrolled her portion of the catwalk and flyspace, and the mouse Unsmudgable knew not to take any chances that night. "Only s'posed to be Smudgies up here, but maybe we could make an exception if you're not looking for trouble. What's your name, eh?"

 

[Kal Goldtail]

@Liza Fairpaw

She managed to spot her father in the crowd, gluing himself close to trays with alcohol being served. He didn't change enough for Kal to notice from such a remote location, but he was there, and he did not drink himself to death or complete absence of mind. Kal wasn't sure what emotions such sight evoked. Part anger, at him not changing his ways - though why would he change them? Part longing, as life in the Slups has been lonely enough for her to miss even the fake and strained family connections.

She couldn't ponder too long, before a voice drew her attention. Kal didn't move, besides turning her head to scan the mouse. While the intruder seemed ready to fight, there was no indication of will to escalate things. Thankfully. She nodded slightly. "Kal. And not lookin' for trouble, no." She raised her arms slightly. "Just lookin' at party, eh? Care for cheap wine and break from duty?"

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

The Minister of Innovation was in attendance, as well as he could be, in his wheelchair and dressed up as much as possible in order to hide the various splints, stitches, and bandages that still covered almost the entirety of his body except for his face and paws. In all honesty, these kinds of events made him uncomfortable, not so much because he did not appreciate the arts in his own way, but because they were alien to him. He was, at his core, a soldier and an administrator. He could organize something like this well enough if he had to, he had for Westisle Cultural Appreciation Day, relying on the advice of experts, and making sure those experts were properly vetted and if necessary disgraced or disappeared if they failed him, but aside from the general reception of the crowd, he had no ideas about the details, except for perhaps that particular example given that it was his native culture. Here, he had to rely on Dusk to guide him through such an event without making an utter fool of himself.

Dusk.

He glanced over at his wife, who he was essentially trailing, artfully sailing through the social sphere like a master seabeast in her own right. He thought he had been a good Minister of Misanthropy, all things considered, but she handled it like a natural. He let a rare smile form on his lips. The two were in the process of reconciling ever since she had remained loyal to him during the Festival of Sorrows and his return from Urk, where she had visited him daily in the hospital and held his paw as he recovered. They were not yet at the point where they could live together again, but there was something of a new spring afoot. He genuinely felt love once again, or, rather, it should be said that the love he had been forced to suppress was now flowing to the surface once more. He had done what he had to do, and it cost him her for a decade, but now, when he was better enough to go to Amarone...everything was a negotiation at the end of the day, and though he was sure the price would be high, he would make sure the only vixen he ever picked got the respect she deserved again.

“Arta, if you would...towards my wife.” The young vixen nodded, rolling the wheelchair over to the Ministress of Misanthropy as four of Talinn’s personal Mistcloaks escorted them. While the Ministry of Innovation did not possess any standing forces of their own, the infamous commandos of House Ryalor, equipped with their signature long, in this instance camouflaged grey cloaks and fatigues, followed him, scanning the crowd for any weakness. Talinn, of course, had his “ceremonial” dagger on him, but, if push came to shove, he could maybe only take on a particularly weak or unskilled opponent as he was now. The commandos were for everyone else.

He offhand listened to the speech of the vice Minister and Minister, but, in truth, tuned most of it out as their relationship was for the most part business, and such had been contentious as of late. He negotiated with them as necessary, of course, but they had been...troublesome...in their recent negotiations for the funding of what passed for the educational system in the Imperium, and the budget was presently in a deadlock as a result. The traditional split between matters of true import ever since he had taken office and used his influence to negotiate, the sciences and the mixed subjects, and the nice to haves, the beastmanities, had been approximately 80-20 in his favor. Now, Kilaris, after all this time, had found a spine and was demanding an outrageous 75-25 split, at a time when so many new engineers and innovators were needed, the extra five percent towards the beastmanities was simply a ludricrous offer. He had considered orchestrating the death of the rat himself for that affront and installing someone far more amenable to Innovation’s interests, but had held off largely at the insistence of his wife, who encouraged him to try to take the higher road and give diplomacy more time to pan out, and he had acquiesced in light of their renewed romance. So many beasts misunderstood Dusk, thinking she was some paranoid, mentally ill-adjusted mastermind bent on violence, blood, schemes, death, and her own self-interest, when in truth she was cultured, full of restraint, loyal, and loving to her family, or, at least that is what Talinn in his new rose-tinted glasses thought at the moment.

As he approached in his chair, he noticed she was talking to what appeared to be some young stoat reporter. Ah, the press, they always seemed to infiltrate such events, no matter how hard one fought to keep them out-he had often wondered, back in his time, if he should have recruited them into MAUL, given their inquisitive nature and their willingness to do anything to create a story, that could perhaps be redirected into their willingness to do anything that their Minister said, but, sadly, he had to leave before he could conduct that experiment. Rolling up to the two, he put one paw in Dusk’s for a moment, squeezing it as a sign of support, overhearing the question as he did so, but waiting for his wife to respond first. If the stoat wanted to ask him how he felt, he would gladly answer.

I wish I could say he was an uppity pain in the arse, but I will have to think about how to more diplomatically phrase that.

@Dusk Rainblade @Aiken Brudenell

 

[Marie "Whisper" Deftclaw]

@Asta Dalgaard
Whisper anxiety, at least in some par, dropped like a ball once the decision was made. Sure, they were still afraid it wasn't a good one, but it was one made. They picked the Mazurka piece and scanned through it, for a moment forgetting about the other beast in front of them. It took a moment before such thought came. And once it did, Whisper instantly felt devastated and curled up.

"Aah! I-I am sorry!.. I m-messed up. I d-didn't w-wan sob want to i-ignore y-you." They blurted out while again starting to tear up. "I... do. M-my p-p-pieces are a-all written b-by me..."

 

[Hali Snowhide]

@Tanya Keltoi
It takes a grand enough will of concentration for Hali to keep the fragile glass in her hands it seems when she takes a small sip, half of the drink disappears between her teeth as she carefully tips the glass back. She looks over her champagne glass at the red fox, a small grin forms at the side of her lips from the comment.

"Might not seem much in comparison, aye; but no complaints," she inspects the flute once more in her hands, the carbonated bubbles stirred the amber-hued drink. Hali had never had anything like it and naturally was curious, a claw tapped the glass giving a small ting, frothing from agitation. "'specially since it was given freely."

Hali fell silent for a moment, glancing at Tanya with a curious smile. Her eyes caught the badge and bow Tanya was proudly presenting, and suddenly, she found herself genuinely intrigued in the conversation. "So, you use a bow? As do I," Hali herself is unarmed, already missing the security of her quiver which was often pressed on her back, "I did not know weapons were allowed here."

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue wasn't sure how he was able to get into this building. He was under the assumption he would have needed an invitation, or perhaps a ticket of some sort. But, here he was, in a crowd far more larger than he had ever seen. He looked around, holding his lute in one paw, trying not to appear like he was too confused as to why he was here. Maybe he could perform with some of the other musicians, if he could find them.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

It came as pleasant surprise to hear this other beast was an archer, and it showed on her countenance. "Oh!" Tanya beamed, "that's good! Trained with all sorts by this age, but archery always calls me back, you know? What sort of bow do you normally use?"

She was getting ahead of herself. Mingling was expected at this stage of the job, but already she knew that discussing something she was so passionate about with another of equal interest could quickly become a distraction if she wasn't careful. Besides, the wolverine had asked a pertinent question. "Oh, pardon my manners. I'm Betony Copperbrush, one of the senior Unsmudgeable Rangeblades on duty tonight. That's why I've a weapon: the Ministries of Niceties and Misathropy are working together to keep security for the event. You're in safe paws tonight ma'am," she nodded to the wolverine's own, amusement twinkling in her eyes, "though I'm certain your own are more than capable."

There was no denying that this creature was either new to this echelon of society or otherwise new to the city. 'Gates, please don't be your first month here. What a way to start. "It strikes me you're a little...unique in a crowd like this. If you don't mind my saying so."

 

[Hali Snowhide]

Hali nods at Betony. "A longbow," she emphasises the length with a broad, widening gesture, giving a good estimate the size of her bow. "Very good at fletching my own arrows too, the stones here are different; brittle in some ways stubborn another-"

Hali herself was getting too distracted with the conversation, she paused her train of thought before she became overwhelmed. "Hali Snowhide," she lets Tanya continue, hoping that her awfully curt answer was enough. Ah, nevermind, these people liked to talk ... and prod. There's a stifled exhale from Hali when Betony questions her presence here.

"Ah, do I stand out. I am a... stranded sailor," she admits easily, much to Betony's possible chagrin, "and I was hoping to see someone particular here," she cranes her neck ahead of Betony, glancing over the room, scanning for a particular head amongst the crowd; she had a perceptive eye from years of scouting in the glaciers.

Hali shakes her head, "But, it seems would be too simple to find him here."

"I entered here with no issue, and I can leave quietly."

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk kept her expression calm and composed both at the reporter's question and at the approach of her husband. She didn't so much as look at Arta; she was sure that Talinn suspected the vixen of working for Dusk by now, but she didn't want him to guess at the other three spies she had in his employment, one more to spy on him, and the other two to spy on the first two spies. In the convoluted games that Dusk's paranoia demanded, there were never enough layers to fully satisfy her.

"As ministers, we all spend a great deal of time with each other, working to solve the Imperium's problems where they arise," she remarked, skirting the question the stoat posed of her, at least in her husband's presence. "Misanthropy and Niceties actually have a great deal of shared interest, especially in protecting Imperial culture from outside threats - both physical and ephemeral. Naturally, in such a gathering of cultural and political luminaries, there are both symbolic and practical benefits to cooperation regarding the security of the event."

She stepped over beside the wheelchair and put a paw on her husband's shoulder. "Oh, how remiss of me," she added. "Have you met my husband, the Minister of Innovation Talinn Ryalor? Dearest, this is Mr. Pritchard, a reporter from the Smelt. Please," she directed to the reporter with a coy smile, "feel free to ask him all the juiciest, most salacious questions. It's not often that you have someone of his rank as a captive audience."

So they'd made up after his injuries. They'd exchanged their promises, agreed to try again, established a plan to move forward and rebuild their marriage bit by bit. That didn't mean she wouldn't have a little bit of fun at his expense. Indeed, that back and forth was one of the parts of their marriage she'd missed the most.

~~~

Lily watched sourly as another marten tid intruded upon her space, making a comment about her expression. She didn't dignify it with a response; she really wasn't supposed to be drawing attention to herself anyway. "If ya en't gonna be takin' any more," she stated shortly, her Slups accent dominating her voice, "Ah'm gonna move on. Ah ken't go back t' tha kich'n if Ah en't got ridda 'em." She knew that one of the chefs in the kitchen was preparing a very special treat intended for a minister, and Lily was supposed to be the one to deliver it to him.

~~~

The number of beasts flowing through the doors of the Opera House was astounding, and quite discomforting to a gray fox in a Stoatorian Guard dress uniform. He drew closer to his cousin Alwyn, pulling his shoulder in as a pair of mustelid femmes, a weasel and a ferret, brushed past him with a quick apology. "I really don't like crowds," he murmured, clinging tight to the hilt of Requiem. While the blade was not standard for this uniform, nothing, not even uniform regulations, would part him from his mother's sword.

His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for white fur, until it landed on an albino marten currently talking with a server and a sable marten. Daniil swallowed before addressing Alwyn. "Sir," he stated, defaulting to formal address for his cousin while in uniform, "Permission to scout the room for a few minutes?"

~~~

"Sorry mate," Morgan apologized as she brushed against a gray fox in uniform, leading Vihma into the room on her arm. She'd gone all out for the event: she'd spent some of her first paycheck, plus the injury compensatory bonus, on a halfway-decent suit from the Alkamari tailor's shop down the street from her parents' house in the Trenches. The tailor had done a good job of fitting it to her, especially given how little she'd had to spend on it. It was a deep plum coat with shimmering patterns of peonies rising from the velvet, trimmed with black velvet and lined with dark silk that felt cool on her torso. A dark gray waistcoat and matching pants, plus a white button-up shirt and a checkered black-and-gold ascot, made up quite the dandy look.

Her eyes eagerly traveled around the room before coming back to her date for the evening. Morgan grinned, excitement shining in her eyes. "Y' ever seen this much gold in one place?" she enthused, her eyes wandering to a flash of silver with glasses of crimson floating by. "No way! Jumbo shrimp!" She lunged to snarch two of the conical glasses full of cocktail sauce and large shrimp curled about the rim, knocking a nearby vixen into her date's arms. "Ya gotta try these," she enthused to Vihma, offering the glass.

~~~

Marianna started to yelp as she was knocked to the side, arms flailing for purchase, and abruptly found herself held in Ivo's grasp, snout to snout with him, his paws supporting her back and her arms about her shoulders. For a moment she forgot how to breathe; then, finally, a quip entered her mind and dislodged the breath she'd been holding. "Well," she remarked, "I suppose we've answered the question of whether or not you'd catch me when I fall." She laughed, still a bit shaky as she came down from the sudden adrenaline high. "Perhaps we should seek a less crowded space," she suggested, "or a less rough of a crowd."

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Decades of using more upper body strength and a touch more lounging about had seen to it that Jeshal's old black frockcoat was a little tight around the seams. It had been patched here and there, new buttons sewn on by his daughter. Soon enough he would purchase something fresh, but this is what he had worn when he left the Imperium. It seemed fitting to wear it at his first proper to-do, minus the ghost make-up this time. Upon his head was his feathered cavalier, befeathered now with the iridescent plumage of a Kutorokan sunbird (gifted, though he might say otherwise).

The fox sauntered in among the arrivals, scanning the crowd with an easy, performative smile. So many beasts he did not know, acquaintances to be made, curiosities to study. Though Jeshal had once been wealthy, he had rarely spent more time than he had to with the nobility, keeping it to business and necessity. These mingling aristos were as much strangers to him as the commoners and the foreigners. Speaking of which, the tall lynx who had drawn a crowd was fascinating. There was also a wolverine of all things, conversing with a Smudgie vixen. Something seemed familiar about the fox that he could not place yet, his attention instead drifting to Caden who was speaking to a server and an unknown marten. As he wandered to fetch himself an empty glass and feign interest in a buffet table, he next caught sight of the inescapable convoy that was Talinn and his guards approaching who could only be Dusk.

Jeshal poured whiskey out of a flask into the wine glass he had procured, flying in the face of expected table manners. He flashed a grin at a weasel who looked like he wanted to call the Fogeys at the very idea and raised his glass before his gaze zeroed back in on the injured duke. Shame I didn't put you in that thing meself. Shame ye made it back from Urk at all.

His animosity was concealed, however, his expression one of amusement, as inviting as it was intimidating. Well, perhaps a little cuddlier in his older age. He was eager to see how this night played out.​

 

[Ivo Suresight]

Ivo was glad to be here with Marianna. Not only it felt good to have such phenomenal of a date with her, (Especially considering the amount of ropes he had to pull to get access to anywhere in this place) but also it was the prime place to do work of his kind. After all, with every beast that mattered in the city and the country, maybe safe for the Empress herself, gathered here, secrets that he could utilise were just ripe for picking.

Granted, as much as he was trying to put his ear and eyes to seeking those, they ended more than often on Marianna.

That is why he was also able to catch her on the spot. Dear mother anarchy, was she beautiful to him. Were his fur not as red as it gets already, his blush would be making it such for sure.

As she parted from him with a small laugh, Ivo helped her up and flashed most roguish smirk he could possibly make.

"If ya insist... I've made sure t'get pass to the floor with'em nobles and such. S'pose that would be calmer place... 'less ya wish to seek a bit more private place."

 

[Kaii Nashirou]

Keeping oneself at constant edge. Making use each of your movements, acts, words and mannerisms were perfectly suited to the occasion was tiring to say the least. Kaii wasn't there even long enough and already had a feeling he needed a break. Remembering faces and other details that mattered only because nobility required you to be in the know was at least somewhat easy of a task that Kaii could in any capacity enjoy.

But he needed a goddamn break. Too many new and unfamiliar contacts in strict social situation was something he was trained for. Not something he was good at. And the only temporary respite he spotted was... the Minister of Innovation. Albeit, they were now being moved to see their wife, Minister of Misanthropy... Dusk Rainblade if he remembered correctly. With how many names he processed in recent moments, he wasn't sure of his memory anymore.

Deciding not to interrupt the talk between the two, Kaii simply thanked and left his current interlocutor, navigating through the crowd to get into respectful distance from the Dukes. Making sure they can see him, while himself not imposing upon their space nor will. Delicate balance it this dance that was a noble life. One that Kaii had to live, even if he wasn't born for it.

 

[Liza Fairpaw]

@Kal Goldtail

The mouse surveyed the fox carefully, noting the lack of ranged weapons and the semblance of calm about her. Liza winked and removed her arrow from the bowstring, slotting it back into the quiver on her back.

"Alright then, Kal. No trouble, then. Name's Liza. Unfortunately I can't take you up on the offer of wine and taking a break, but I can sit with you a spell. 'Tis a decent place to watch the crowd from, eh?" She approached the fox and sat, her gaze still scanning the milling beasts below.

It was a good party so far, and she was somewhat miffed to have been called to duty rather than being able to enjoy it herself. The Unsmudgables had all cast lots for who would be on security that night. Chance was chance, and Liza had found herself on the wrong side of things for this particular event.

"What brought you up here, Kal? Most beasts stick to the ground and the carousing." She scanned the vixen's armor. "And most beasts don't wear armor to this sort of party, no offense. Unless you were looking to help out us poor sods stuck on duty tonight."

 

[Asta Dalgaard]

@Marie "Whisper" Deftclaw

Asta was unsure how to respond to the small fox's reaction. She reached out a put a paw on the crying beast's shoulder, hoping the contact would comfort them. "It being okay, really. I not feeling ignored." The jill gave their shoulder a light squeeze. "I excited to be hearing your music. How long you writing and playing for? Did somebeast teach you?"

 

[Marie "Whisper" Deftclaw]

@Asta Dalgaard
Whisper paralysed as soon as the paw got onto their shoulder. Sadly, being a runt, their flight or fight reaction was very much tilted into fleeing. Which meant that anything that held her was very very scary. Still, the words that followed were in no way dangerous. Whisper was tensed and anxious as much as one can get, but they were willing to try and continue this conversation, no matter how uncomfortable they were. After all, this beast helped them already, it was least Whisper could do in return.

"N-not really. I just... h-had a lot of t-time to p-practice. A-aside from vi-violin I am s-self-t-t-taught... I- s-started w-when I w-was three." She took a break to regulate her panting that came up with stress. After a moment she managed to add a bit more, now with slight confidence and pride. "I compose p-pieces s-since I was nine though. T-that was a d-decade ago. H-how about you? L-lutes a-are u-usually played b-by bards r-right?"

 

[Izakis]

Izakis, after a while, ended up leaving one of the more private alcoves. Making sure to make herself presentable she was padding across the wide corridor onto one of the balconies. She needed a moment of respite now. Maybe something to drink and maybe someone to talk. On her way up, she did manage to secure the first of her desires by getting a whole plate of champagne glasses. Hoping to share them for others joy as well.

Because of those, and a bit of charm, she was able to get high into the area for the guards. Not exactly what she wanted but those poor souls were already overworked. She hoped to bring them at least a kind word a bit of something for their efforts. And as the skink was getting through, she ended at the backstage. There weren't a lot to do here but she happily mingled among the artists and spoke with them in passing, distributing more champagne on her way. Their smiles were for sure worth it, her clothing and her act were enough to avoid any questions. Through random navigation by following voices, Izakis ended upstairs at the catwalk. There she found a fox and a mouse. Izakis didn't expect to see here anyone but some tired Smudgies maybe. Instead, there was one of those and one armoured beast. Strange, but they did seem on edge. Perfect place for her to be and to act out her role.

Putting down the plate with four remaining champagne glasses, she offered her most charming smile as she spoke in gentle, caring voice. "Ssssorry for interrupting you two. Just wanted to bring little respite to the hard working guards like you... I know you are on duty, but you are doing sssso much already, a moment of respite won't hurt you right?" Her body language was electric, but her words were genuine. She really wanted just to offer some peace to probably strained minds of the Smudgies who, for someone like her, were the most respectable of all the forces that she knew of.

@Liza Fairpaw @Kal Goldtail

 

[Asta Dalgaard]

@Marie "Whisper" Deftclaw

"You must being very, uh, talentfulle." Asta wrinkled her nose as the Vulpinsulan word escaped her for a moment. Then she brightened. "Oh, ja, talented. Playing for so long."

She shifted, curling her tail around by her footpaws. "Many beasts playing lute, not only bards. My father was being a bard, though. He and my mother teaching me to play, sing, dance, telling stories. I playing like bard, but also playing like, ah, how Philharmonic beasts playing. Classical playing, ja?" The jill tilted her head towards the stage. "Tonight I playing both ways. I being from Varangia, will playing and singing songs from home. Hoping beasts like them. Where you being from?"

A female lizard walked by and offered drinks to the pair. Asta gratefully accepted, thanking the beast, before turning back to Whisper.

 

[Aiken Brudenell]

@Dusk Rainblade @Talinn Ryalor

Whatever ease Aiken had acquired in his conversation with the minister melted away as her husband and his entourage of bodyguards approached.

The beast was in a wheelchair, looking stiff in such a way that Aiken could only guess at the extent of his injuries. But Aiken knew who he was.

Of course, they’d never met. Oh, perhaps he’d seen him before, years ago, in the wake or beginning of some impromptu meeting his father had had with the beast, back when the fox was little more than the leader of some foreign battalion. Back when Aiken was still a little kit, and the Imperium had no Empress, nor Emperor. Before the great betrayal.

The stoat’s eyes narrowed, tail stiffening behind him. It took a certain amount of will not to scowl at the beast who had taken so much from him. Dusk was lucky – the stoat barely paid her answer heed, lacking the wherewithal to challenge her on the avoidance of his question. His eyes flicked back up to her as she introduced her husband, though he already knew who he was.

“My pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Grace.”

The words came out less icy than he would have expected, slick and armor-clad in the received pronunciation the stoat most often fell into for such conversations. Aiken had worn many a mask for different beasts before, however much he liked not to. He’d played polite with whoever he’d had to in the pursuit of the truth, and he’d told himself that was the way to go through life. Time, and exception, challenged all philosophies.

His throat tightened, looking back at the beast. He didn’t bow to the fox like he had his wife, his mood for the nobility’s games having rather dried up with his arrival, but he did force himself to smile again, the steel in his eyes gone in a blink, leaving only cold such as where a ghost had been before.

“How might your injuries be treating you, Mr. Ryalor? I’m sure you know how concerned we all are for your well-being back at the Smelt. Some beasts have taken to wondering, given how tight-lipped Innovation tends to be.”

The stoat somehow managed to keep the poison from his voice. Just a polite, earnest smile – his deception seemingly only that of an ambitious journalist fishing for controversy.

~~~

Vihmastaja Rhoodie

Vihma had never been to the Opera House. Certainly she’d never been to such a gathering as this. The matter of what to wear had been a challenge. The weasel didn’t really have a wardrobe, such as things were on the Hide. The most formal clothes she had was her least-worn naval coat, her nicest a simple white button shirt. In the end she’d had to follow Morgan’s example, parting with some of her savings to find something better for the occasion.

She hadn’t known what she wanted. The tailor’s recommendations were welcome, though they tended toward a foreign style and extravagance she wasn’t familiar with. In the end her heart – and to some extent her coin purse – had pulled her toward a simpler route, though bright in the way her clothes had never been before. Her shirt was blue, deep but not dark like the navy wear she’d suffered through for some years now. Her trousers, for experience had not given her comfort with skirts, remained black, though the cut and material were exceptional. More to her contention, the kind beast had offered to mend the cloth she wore from her mother – that old scrap of mistcloak she still wore from time to time, or kept in her pocket for closeness. No longer fraying, she wore it about her neck in a way not dissimilar to Morgan’s ascot.

Morgan.

She all but clung to the ferret now, as though still relieved that she could. In truth she might have clung to any beast in such an environment, the glitz and ditz of the upper crust feeling more like a foreign landscape than Urk’s frozen wasteland, full of strange beasts in strange outfits with odd mannerisms. One rich beast was a peculiarity. A few hundred of them? The weasel had to try not to stare.

Still, there were jewels to be found, as Morgan pointed out to her. Mouthing an apology to a fox couple the ferret had knocked aside, Vihma took the glass of shrimp from Morgan, staring at the shrimp in its crystal cup. The shrimp were big.

“Y’s’pose richbeasts put everythin’ in glass like this?”

She pulled one shrimp from her glass, munching it approvingly, though her eyes went back to the red sauce filling its container. A pleasant bit, she thought – complimenting the savory crunch of the shrimp’s meat – though she’d have preferred something creamier for the sauce, maybe.

“Are ye s’posed to drink from it?”