Marianna's expression turned hard as stone at mention of just what the blackmail was that Ivo held over the merchant captain. She felt her jaw set, hatred rising in her gut. She recalled a conversation she'd had as a fifteen-year-old just learning the books, familiarizing herself with the Family's accounts and investments. She'd asked Vito about one line item under the revenue, which corresponded to a much larger sum in the 'liabilities' section. The fox had evaded the question a few times before he'd admitted that it was an investment in a slaving vessel that made the run from the MSC to the Vulpinsula. "Slaving may not be palatable," he'd admitted to her, "but it is profitable, especially right now. With the economy the way it is and the present upheaval, able bodies are needed, no matter how they're procured." She'd pitched a fit, warning him that she wouldn't touch the books if he didn't divest the Family of that business entirely. In the end, she'd gotten an agreement from him to wind down their investment within the year. To his credit, he'd actually followed through.
"It's a good thing he's gone," she remarked, her tone cold. "I'm not certain I could look at him and not attempt to kill him myself." She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Flashes in her mind of water below, strange paws holding her above it, and a sense of terror as she heard a vixen's desperate pleas all coursed through her memory in a moment, dark lightning that seared everywhere it touched. She shuddered, pulling herself a little closer to Iva. "I hate slavers," she admitted. "It... It's a long story. I'll tell you sometime - not here though. It's not exactly cocktail conversation."
~~~
Dusk winced at the clear irritation in her friend's voice, and knew she'd misstepped. Orina was a deeply pragmatic beast, and would surely have understood Dusk's desire to protect her husband. In truth, Dusk wasn't sure why she hadn't gone to her friend about it. Was it because she didn't want to admit quite yet that she and Talinn were in the process of reconciling? Orina had been friends with Dusk across the whole decade of her separation from Talinn, and had heard everything from mournful pining for the todd to drunken rants about what she'd do to him if given the chance. Maybe she'd been afraid of how much less the squirrel would think of Dusk if she saw the vixen's principles caving in the face of passion.
She sighed, making a note to get Orina a very expensive bottle of wine and box of imported chocolates as an apology, and turned away, looking across the room to -
Oh 'Gates. How did she even get in here?
There was no mistaking the vixen, even though Dusk had never seen her in her life. She was the spitting image of herself at the same young age, albeit less adorned in the ill-gotten wealth of her parents' estate. She was dressed as one of the wait staff, indicating the sort of coincidence that made Dusk feel as if the gods were laughing at her specifically. Her ears burning, she pushed through the crowd, making her way to her husband just in time to hear the vixen introduce herself.
"Miss Brewer, sah. Mina Rose, if ya please. Mos' e'rybeas' calls me Mina though."
'Gates, what was that accent? She sounded as if she should be plucking at a ukelele and spitting fruit seeds on a beach somewhere. And had she been shoving loose cake into her mouth? How in 'Gates had she been raised?
Safely, she reminded herself. The girl had grown up wild, yes, but she'd also grown up free. It wasn't the life that Dusk would have given her, but that was the point. So she'd come out of it with some uncouth habits; those would be civilized out of her by Bully Harbor and the Rainclaws, or at least so she could hope.
"Husband dear," Dusk addressed Talinn as she came up behind him, putting a paw on his shoulder, "Isn't she a bit young for you? It's unbecoming to go about chasing after femmes a third your age; you're not a Minister of Niceties, after all." She tittered lightly at her own joke. "I'm sure we can find better for Alwyn as well, before you suggest it." She winced internally to see the hurt, defeated look in the girl's eyes at the comment, but, she told herself, it was for the best. If Mina Rose was to be safe, she had to be kept at arm's length from the Ryalors... At least until Dusk and Tox could figure out what to do with her.
~~~
Daniil felt the panic and irritation rising as Alwyn and the MAUL sable, Mattise, verbally sparred over competing offers of help while Daniil focused on helping Asta to a chair. He'd only seen her enter a panic state a few times, and he'd mostly watched awkwardly from the doorway as Caden took the lead in comforting her, bringing her back to the present moment. "Asta," he urged her, his voice low and quiet. "Focus on my voice. Listen to it, follow it back. You're safe, you're in Bully Harbor, we have you in a chair and you're sitting down and you're safe. Come back to that."
Eventually the sable rescinded his offer and departed in a huff. Daniil sighed, looking up to Alwyn. "She needs time before we move her," he informed his cousin. "She's not in a good state. Caden went ahead, he's probably -"
There was a sickening thud as something fell to the stage. Daniil jumped, his paw going to his mother's blade, and he stared in horror. A todd, one he didn't recognize but wearing the coat-tails and bowtie of a performer in the Orchestra, lay on the stage, his neck at a horrible, unnatural angle. What the 'Gates? There was a scream as the crowd saw the body, and a small stampede started for the door. Daniil drew his blade, positioning himself between Asta and the panicked beasts fleeing toward the door. "Go around!" he hollered, waving his paw to direct them around the guards and their charge.
Somehow, it was more disquieting just how many beasts stayed in the Atrium, talking animatedly among themselves as if the body was all part of the show. How jaded are these beasts? he thought in dismay. He looked to Alwyn, speaking quietly to not rouse another panic. "Alwyn, maybe we should evacuate your parents. Something is very wrong here."
~~~
Sean Wicke considered the offer to take the fight outside before dismissing it out of paw. Too public. Risk of official intervention. Fewer potential weapons, and only available at extended reach. Risk of injury to bystanders. "I don't think so," he stated, his voice low as he circled opposite the vixen. He was very close to one of the candlestick mounts, if he could just... "I'll make it quick," he promised her. "Professional courtesy." The other two he'd dealt with that night had been amateurs; this was someone who was experienced in the business. He couldn't get fancy with her, he just needed to take her out and fast, before she could get a strike in at him in turn.
He moved quickly, seizing the curbed iron rod and yanked it sharply. To his dismay, it held; while thin, it was studier than it first appeared. He gave another tug, putting torque into it, and this time it broke free, leaving a jagged edge at the tip of his new hook, but it was too late; he'd left himself open and lost the benefit of the initiative.
~~~
Lily Lesse nodded at Calaisee's instructions, taking her bag of clothes, armor, and weapons with her and heading for the pantry. She stepped into the dark space, quickly stripping herself of the stupid uniform and pulling on her street clothes. It wasn't until her eyes adjusted to the darkness that she spotted the white cook's shirt and apron stained with crimson, and the beast wearing them. She yelped, rapidly clasping her paws over her mouth to muffle it. She recognized the poisoner from the Marauders, his eyes a dull black staring lifelessly back at her. 'Gates, he was dead! Lily had seen corpses before; in the Slups, stumbling across the victim of a mugging gone wrong was practically a rite of passage. She'd never been alone in an enclosed space with one, though.
It was disquieting, trying to finish dressing and arming herself with the dead todd staring at her like that, and she fumbled with the straps on her vambrace. When it was finally on, her dagger holstered under her arm, she pushed out of the pantry and into the kitchen, searching for her co-conspirator. "Cal!" she called, looking about for any sight of the vixen.
The maitre d' frowned as Cal pushed past him. "What do you think you're doing out of u-"
"Sod off, tid!" Lily snarled, pushing him roughly against a counter and enjoying how his look of indignation turned to surprise and, briefly, to fear. "Cal!" she called again. "Where are ya? We gotta prob'm."
~~~
Morgan frowned as, arm in arm with Vihma, the pair walked into the auditorium. There seemed to be some sort of disturbance going on; the chandelier was hanging way too low above the state, and she could see Daniil and Asta in a chair nearby. "Huh. I guess she's finished already," Morgan remarked. She pointed, explaining, "The jill in the chair there is Asta, the one 'oo-"
There was a heavy thud as something fell to the stage from high in the rafters. There was a moment's pause, and then a scream. Suddenly beasts were out of their seats, charging toward the doors - and right toward Morgan and Vihma. The ferret reacted on instinct: she pulled Vihma to her and pressed her tight against the nearest wall, shielding the weasel with her own body, much as she'd shielded Vihma from the cold of the crow's nest. It might well have been an intimate moment, save for the confusion and hazard of the crowd charging past them. As soon as the beasts were fled out into the atrium, Morgan slowly pulled away, glancing about to make sure they were safe. "Sorry," she apologized, giving Vihma a rueful smile. "Normally I save 'at fer the secon' date."
