Session 77 - Center Stage

Previously, Across the Horizon...
The Howling Eye can never truly be defeated, but perhaps on this day, it can be humbled.
The Meteor, on the other hand, most certainly can be defeated... though it was not.
Hours after an experiment to recharge Linnet's crystal with the power of an elemental vortex has returned results, but not the results they necessarily wished for, Bast, Isa, and Linnet have all returned to the Starfall.
Meteor is in dire need of repairs, with every system powering the deployable vessel suffering some sort of damage from Cardia's well-hidden nightmare. Bast accepts credit for keeping the vessel afloat and very little responsibility for what comes after, though he's likely to get drafted back into fixing whatever everyone else ends up breaking, seeing as the captain is also the best engineer on deck.
After drawing up a plan for the repairs and leaving a group of actors under strict supervision (Artemicion, less than excited with his new task), the officers are left with the question of what to do next in their search for Linnet's winds.
After a late night break for snacks and stories in the mess hall, we join one dragoon in particular up by the bridge...
**
Isa finishes discussing a course with Marina, and then heads for the intercom. "Senior officers, to the conference room," she broadcasts throughout the ship. Her tone is more imperative than a request, but not quite an order.
Marina sets her fifth empty mug of coffee along with the other four and checks the ship's bearings.
Linnet squirms away from the watchful eye of Shula, who - as predicted - has not been happy about Linnet doing very dangerous things to herself in the name of restoring her winds. "It's just a staff meeting, I promise not to do anything stupid, goodness." Before "stupid" can be clarified, the mage ducks out the door and swings by the galley to collect some backup refreshments. That tone sounded like a "we need more muffins" tone.
Yves is, as it turns out, already in the conference room. He has commandeered much of the central table to spread out his diagrams for the continuing project to create a water feature in his room that is as close to natural waterfall and stream circulation as possible, while being robust enough to not cause any damage even if the Starfall spends a half hour flying upside-down through constant turbulence for some reason. It's... not going well. Or so the amount of crumpled paper piling up in a wastebasket suggests.
Bast wipes the grease on his hands with a rag, sticks the wrench he was using into his belt against future need - whether in repairs or in the meeting - and makes his way over.
Orrey wanders in and peers over Yves's shoulder at the current iteration of the diagrams.
"Why is gravity?" Yves demands of Orrey. "It's just... and hydrodynamics... and... augh! I should've been a mushroom breeder like my parents wanted."
"I ask myself 'why is gravity' an awful lot. See if makes any more sense after a muffin." Linnet shoves a plate under Yves' nose and ruffles his ears fondly. (Ever since Linnet's very, very dangerous bit of science, the flow of treats has been even more generous than usual. Buttering everyone up, perhaps literally.)
"Gravity? I wonder if Diabolos could help direct the gravitational pull in the waterfall?" Orrey muses.
"Yes, of course, but it's not right to ask Diabolos to put a lot of work into someone else's habitat. Unless... unless he has a way to make it work with a single expenditure of effort. Hm." Yves' eyes narrow at the current sheet of paper. "Maybe..." He reaches for the muffin almost without noticing he's doing so.
Isa takes up her normal leaning spot, sipping coffee until everyone arrives and settles down. Once the crew is assembled, she leads off with "So..."
Bast seems reluctant to get involved, but chimes in with: "If that could be done, why not just do the whole ship?"
Orrey settles down with a muffin and a "thanks" to Linnet, eyeing Isa as she sort of begins.
"Gentlemen, staff meeting first, engineering consult after," Linnet says.
Orrey, mouth just opening for a response, closes it on another bite of muffin instead.
Bast gives a lopsided sort of nod at that, and turns to Isa, gesturing for her to continue.
"...what if we could get the ENTIRE SHIP to have a CONSISTENT DIRECTIONAL GRAVITY even in the most DRAMATIC CHANGE of uh sorry, I mean, right, engineering later." Yves shuffles his papers together into a tidier stack, and folds his hands atop them, giving Isa his most virtuous stare of really paying attention, honest.
Isa takes a large gulp of her coffee. "So...I think we can all agree that could have gone better. But we survived, so go us. And I hope, Linnet, that we got something useful going forward." Her expression gets a little more uncertain, as she continues. "It was, let's say, a lot. And, ah, I think we might want to take a day to recover before we press on. So since we're nearby at the right time, I've asked Marina to set a course for the city" - always the capital of Cardia, coming from her - "because Lenore Hikaru is playing the Burmecia Opera House tomorrow night."
A squee erupts from Linnet, who claps her hands over her mouth and tries to look anywhere but at Isa.
Isa looks weirdly relieved at the squee.
"...sorry, that was weird. Carry on," Linnet says.
Bast gives Linnet a raised-eyebrow glance, not displeased. "Someone you know? Of?"
"...I thought Cardia didn't like acting," Yves says hesitantly. "Do they just not like comedies? What opera is it?"
"I've never been to an opera before." Orrey shrugs and takes another bite of muffin.
"Only one of the biggest names in all of modern opera, though I would not be shocked if that's not in your wheelhouse. Drama, comedy, tragicomedy, historical-pastoral, tragicomicohistoricopastoral, you name it, she's done it. And she's not one of the glass-breaking sopranos, just right in the range where it's remarkably pleasant to listen to her."
"They're like musicals, but more tragic," Yves says, not with complete confidence in this definition.
"More dying, generally. And lots of singing before anybody outside of the chorus dies," Linnet adds. "So what's the show? I wasn't following."
Isa shrugs. "I don't actually know, but I also know that she could be singing beer hall songs and it'd be worth hearing."
"Absolutely agreed. Thank you, Isa, I think this might be just what we need. Speaking of which, if anyone feels like rehearsing beer hall songs..." Linnet pauses. "Anything we need to know before we go? Dress code, weapons or no weapons, anticipated shenanigans, anything we're supposed to stop and pick up while we're in town?"
"I didn't think shenanigans were allowed to get too close to opera," Yves says under his breath.
"Are you kidding? Opera is nothing without shenanigans. But generally they're scripted shenanigans."
"Right," Isa says, and shifts without hesitation into logistics mode. "We can dock Starfall at the main city docks; it's not well known enough here to be a problem for us, and we definitely don't want anyone recognizing Meteor. Dress is evening formal. No weapons; it's gauche. I'll have to stop at the townhouse to get our box key," she says, then looks off to the distance for a moment. "There's room for eight. I think Celeste should get an invite after getting through the Eye with us, but if you know anyone else who'd appreciate it, Linnet, let them know."
"You have a box even? Wow." Linnet looks mightily impressed. "Right, fanciest duds, tomorrow evening. Anything else for today, or should I get a head start on hunting down an iron and some hairspray?"
Bast looks down at the residual grease stains on his hands, and resigns himself to an evening of nothing getting done.
Yves' gaze goes distant as he attempts to figure out if his extremely black-and-silver formal outfit is still free of exciting adventure gashes. Probably? Probably.
Orrey finishes taking notes by adding "evening formal?"
Isa looks a little pained. "Not as formal as a ball, but only barely. Clothing to be seen in. Eiri should be able to help you find something appropriate. I have to see which gowns made it into my trunk when we were at the country house." She does not look incredibly thrilled about this last part.
Bast retraces his way through the list of Current Engineering Challenges until he arrives at "evening formal", at which point something seems to spark and fizzle out. He does manage an only mildly strangled "...who's Eiri?"
"Gowns?" Orrey asks without a hint of a smile.
"Untranslateables' costume designer. You've seen her around. Dark brown ears, six earrings in one of them in a cascade of colors? Generally approaching you with sizing-up fingers and a calculating expression?" Linnet says.
"...think I managed to avoid the pleasure this far." Bast shuts his eyes momentarily. "Right. Let's see about this...costume."
"If I knew she was only calculating costuming, I wouldn't have ducked her so often," Yves says, in a tone of enlightenment.
"Well, not entirely costuming when you're around, Yves," Linnet admits, blushing slightly.
"Oh? ...OH." Yves returns his attention thoroughly to the diagram in front of him, an ear twitching.
Less than twenty-four hours but more than twenty-four complaints later...
The Burmecian Opera House is a marvel of architectural design, and if anyone is unsure about this, just go ask anyone in attendance here, they'll tell you.
The weather has cooperated, with only the lightest of snowfalls accompanying the night of culture. The arrival of a singer of such legendary repute would be carried on the cries of hawkers in any other city, but here the proclamations are tasteful and understated. "The singing legend is here for one night only," they say, in essence. "Of course she is, for where else would she go?"
There is still a great deal of excitement in the air, only somewhat muted by the program stating that she is doing a 'limited performance' this evening, and there is no opera performance, just a regular stage performance. A group known as Falcom One will be providing the opening act.
It is just after 8 PM when the hopefully-fashionable adventurers arrive, though as Isa climbs the broad stairs and sees the doorman gesture for her approach, she realizes it is time for that most dangerous of activities:
Social Interaction.
"A fine evening to you, my lady," he says, a catch-all acknowledgement of rank and birth while also establishing his own position of power in this immediate court. "Your House?"
In the last several months, the crew has seen Isa clothed in uniforms, fatigues, workout clothes, armor, blood, mud, and grease. Tonight is something they've never seen. She is wearing an architecturally elaborate gown of deep green silk, engineered to push a soldier's shape into something approximating a lady's. The skirts are layered, the bodice rigorously structured. Her hair is tucked up carefully away from bare shoulders, and instead of armor plate her hands are in matching green gloves up past the elbow. The look she returns to the doorman is carefully calculated as she answers simply "Osler."
The cheekbones are sharp, the eyes are level, but the throat goes through a dozen strangled responses before leveling back out. "We were not expecting you," he says, as if the next line from the guest would be an apology.
"Nevertheless, I trust our box is prepared?" Isa asks, as if the answer was never in doubt.
"As always," he responds stiffly. "Shall we show you to it?" he adds, very much wanting the answer to be no.
Yves watches with anthropological fascination, though he has decided silence is the better part of etiquette. Besides, his outfit speaks for itself: sharply cut and reasonably formal coat, shirt, trousers, and even bowtie, all in the deepest possible black, set off by large quantities of silver.
"No, we're just here to stare at the several-wedding-cakes-mashed-into-each-other and get snowed on," murmurs Linnet to Rahel, but out of the doorman's hearing; they're at the back of the party.
"Please," Isa answers, as if she is allowing the doorman to do her a great favor.
The doorman acquiesces, opening the door wide and ushering the Osler representative, and guests, into the Burmecian.
Orrey shrugs into his dark grey coat, still not quite feeling comfortable wearing something with a tail. His lighter colored pants are tucked into calf high black boots. He settles his forest green hat upon his head, and tries not to adjust the matching cravat. Double checking that his watch hasn't fallen out of his coat pocket, he nearly drops the cane that Eiri absolutely insisted would bring the whole look together. He can't help but look around at everyone else to make sure he's fitting in.
The girls' gowns match in style, as they went shopping together; the only difference is the colors and Linnet's hairstyle, which took considerably more work (as she has about three times as much hair as Rahel does). Identical slim-cut mermaid gowns are fairly tightly silhouetted until about the knees, at which point they fan into dramatic 'tails' and trail a bit on the exquisitely swept steps. (They also hide Linnet's still-bruised ankles.) Velvet shawls in contrasting colors, embroidered cross-body purses on braided cords, and small pinned fascinators with netted veils complete the look. Rahel's gown is hunter green and her accessories silver, Linnet's gown a dark plum and her accessories a pale taupe.
Bast makes his way along in the middle of the party - he tries not to think for safety - and tries not to stand out too much. The silk shirt alone makes him feel like there's a target on his back, the subtly patterned black coat makes sure he couldn't be quick enough if someone makes a go for that target, and the less said about the dress pants and shoes ("We use these for an admiral's ensemble", Eiri said), the better.
(Some of the party may have thought they'd escaped Eiri's attention thus far. They had not.)
Celeste, dressed in a long one-shoulder green dress, gold trim matching the thin belts criscrossed around her waist, gives the doorman a very elegantly dismissive smile as she sweeps in after Isa. Her gloves are gold, index and middle fingers exposed, though only to draw more attention to the (almost certainly imitation) fine rings she's sporting.
Apocynthion has decided to dress as befits his name, though with an eye toward not invoking the Official Osler Wrath. His suit is predominantly silver, the darkest black accents emphasize just how close-fitting his outfit is, shoes that sparkle only when they're in the corners of someone's eyes, and just the right amount of eyeshadow to accent his penetrating gaze.
A few murmurs follow the party up the stairs but die out as they walk down the hall toward the Osler box. The doorman opens the door. "I bid you all a fine evening here at the Burmecian, and as ever, if there is anything we can do to make your visit sublime, please let us know," he says, the words uncomfortable in his mouth, at this place, to these people.
Yves almost asks what makes a visit sublime, so that he can ask for that accordingly, but thinks better of it.
Isa makes a gesture of perfectly calibrated graciousness to the doorman, and gestures to her guests to file in.
Orrey smiles at Celeste and says, "Milady, you look positively...damn I forget the line. Nice! You look nice. That's not a line at all, just a fact."
The mood, at least, is less...foreign than the rest of the situation. Bast nods in passing - not at the doorman, of course, just an acknowledgement as such - and follows Isa's cue into the box.
Celeste beams. "The cane really brings the whole piece together. You cut a fine figure, and for all of your focus on sketching you have an even better eye for color," she says as she takes her seat in between Isa and Orrey.
Linnet manages to keep up an image of grace until she enters the box, then just about trips into a seat between Rahel and Yves. "Whoever invented high heels did so as a practical joke, I swear."
"Eiri wanted to go a whole lot lighter-colored. And there were paisleys." Orrey shudders.
When everyone is inside, Isa locks the door, turns around, leans against the wall, and exhales. "Fuck I hate that part," she whispers.
"I don't know what to do with my hat," Yves hisses at Isa. "Do I take it off or leave it on? I'm going to take out an eye with the brim! Or with the feather, maybe?"
"Leave it on," Isa says, taking her seat. "Remember that about half the people here are here to watch the show, and the other half are here to watch the people. The trick is to look without making it obvious."
On the stage below, a group of... musicians, probably, we'll call them musicians... are preparing for their set. There is a great deal of costuming, a thin sylph with an absolute fountain of blue hair that most certainly isn't all his appears to be permanently inside a wind tunnel, a pink moogle is wearing mirrored sunglasses, a woman has a lime green fauxhawk... there is an air of uncertainty down on the floor.
Orrey stops surveying the crowd on that note.
"...are they at the right venue?" Linnet asks.
"This must be Falcom One," Celeste says, looking at the very finely-written program she picked up on her way in. "They are... hmm. I don't know about these names."
"Oh, is this experimental opera?" asks Yves, who has perhaps not been paying the closest attention to details of the night's performance while trying to manage his hat.
According to the very brief copy, the members of Falcom One are as follows: SEBASTIAN, Powerline, Pegi-13, Jemma Stone, and "featuring" Oneder Boy.
They are the opening act, and apparently, they are about to play.
Isa eyes the stage, and then says, mild and sweet, "Apocynthion, the wine cabinet is to your right. Be a dear."
The music is, fortunately, not at all what they look like, and instead is a fast-paced modern jazz group, mixing piano, strings, and percussion. Not quite the usual style for Cardia, but not the sort of thing that will be... problematic.
Bast looks at Isa with a measure of concern.
Orrey surreptitiously pulls out a small sketchbook and starts filling pages.
Linnet and Rahel are - subtly - dancing in their seats.
Apoc gins up a faux history for the wine as he pours eight glasses, briefly getting sidetracked in an actual conversation about aging wines and cellars and other things that are done underground with Yves.
Across the Burmecian, in another of the boxes, Count Osler sits alongside a man most of the group do not recognize, but would wager is her husband, and another family that most of the group do not recognize and have no wagers on their identity.
Yves is baffled but pleased by the entire situation so far, even if he nearly dips the enormous fluffy black feather draping itself over the rim of his enormous wide-brimmed black hat into his wine before he figures out the management of each.
But notably, Count Osler is not sitting in the Osler box.
Celeste gives that general half of the building a friendly and nonthreatening smile before returning to conversation with Orrey, while also looking over his shoulder at the sketching.
"It's probably not cool to wave, right?" Linnet manages to side-mouth whisper, still dancing.
"Extremely not," Isa replies, also to the side.
"Just checking. Why is your mom all the way over there?"
"If I say 'politics' would that be explanation enough?"
"For now, sure."
Isa nods. "Politics," she answers.
Bast, for something to do that does not involve the social aspects of the entire endeavor, seems to be actually listening rather intently to the performance.
"I knew it was politics! You should explain the politics more." Orrey says.
"After the concert. Politics makes it hard to enjoy dancing," Linnet says.
"Gotta say, so far opera is nice but underwhelming." Orrey says to Celeste.
"This... this isn't opera, Orrey," Celeste replies.
He grins up at her. "Of course it's not..."
"What do they play in Saron, Orrey?" Rahel asks, very carefully drinking her wine so as not to cause any scenes.
"I think it needs plot to be opera," Yves says, having a very cautious sip of wine while his hat-feather swaps dangerously near Apoc's hair, "but not much plot. Just enough that it's actually opera and not just singing. Like... vermouth in a martini."
"Depends on which crowd you're with. Where I hung out, mostly country style strings. Some of the richer folk in the guilds were more into stuff like this." Orrey explains.
"So, wave the plot in the general direction of the music?" Linnet says.
The silent glance Linnet gets after "dancing" is full of suspicion. Bast drowns it in his second glass of wine, and turns back to the stage.
The crowd is treating this with a great deal more respect than the Theatre of the Untranslatable received during their performance outside the Osler Estate. Their looks notwithstanding, the group performing is talented.
The Theater of the Untranslateable's mostly over it. They're a student group, and The Mogtastics isn't for everyone. They're fine. Mostly.
A knock comes at the door.
"Is this when it becomes sublime?" Yves asks Apoc quietly.
Isa rises from her chair, and moves to the door. She does not open it.
Bast, eyes on Isa, moves his hand closer to the bottle of wine.
"...or full of shenanigans," Yves adds, his voice even quieter.
Isa turns away from the door, and touches Yves on the shoulder. "Swap with me," she says, without explanation.
Yves nods, and does so immediately, even as he looks a little baffled. When Isa starts giving orders, something dire is going down. And whether it's social or physical direness, he'd as soon not be right by where it starts.
Celeste eagerly shares her music theory knowledge with Yves, whether he likes it or not.
Isa gives Apoc a "don't say a word" look as she settles into Yves' former seat, near the box door.
Apoc gives Isa a quick whatever-you-need nod, and doesn't ruin the nice moment by speaking or otherwise making himself known, which is nice. Rahel is occasionally leaning forward to ask Orrey to get more of the costuming down on the stage for further ideas on their next stop and cover story.
When nothing immediately dire seems to be happening, Bast picks up the bottle for a superficially appreciative examination.
Down onstage, SEBASTIAN takes the stage. "We have one last song for you all, and then the main attraction will be out!"
As if on cue, the door opens, slowly and nonconfrontationally, admitting a tall and gaunt human man, gray mustache and absolutely impeccable dress, conveying the wealth of the house he represents and absolutely his standing within it.
"Lady Isaline," he says with a bow, and then another. "And your guests. On behalf of the Osler family, allow me to offer you a belated welcome to Cardia. I have a message from the Count."
Isa turns in her seat enough to hear the message, but not so much as to be obvious to out-of-box observers.
The song ends, abruptly and dramatically, and the applause takes a moment to begin.
Falcom One make their exit (no one dreams of an encore), and the orchestra comes out.
Once they are seated, the main attraction herself, Lenore Hikaru, comes out to much, much more applause.
Wearing a midnight blue full-length gown covered with sparkling stars, she steps up to the microphone, and without a word of greeting, just smiles, and then nods to the conductor.
The conductor gestures for the orchestra to tune and warm up, before finally tapping his baton for silence.
He raises his arms, and the orchestra raise their instruments in kind.
They begin.
In the box...
Yves, seeing that no one is committing violence yet, turns his attention to the music.
"Cardia is going to war," the newcomer says.
"With?" Isa asks.
"Machanon," he says. "To start."
Yves is abruptly not paying attention to the music.
"And to end?"
"The King has not said," he replies. "The King has said precious little of this to any but her most trusted confidants," he continues. "There are those once close to her who disagree with this. We do not know what, or why, they disagree."
Isa frowns by a few degrees. "Is she winnowing her court further? Who's on the outs now?"
"The Azure Dragoon."
Yves mouths a distinctly profanity-laden question over at Bast, though the gist is just ...what?
Isa only hmms.
Bast nods a half-lidded acknowledgement back to Yves and continues listening, the performance regretfully forgotten.
"The Count has need of you and your crew," he says. "To aid the family, and secure the Osler future."
Under their shawls, Linnet grabs Rahel's hand tightly; both keep their faces focused on the music.
"Are the Oslers attacking Mechanon?" Yves hisses, trying to reach Isa's ears and not those of the stranger. That is probably a rather finely graded degree of sound to pull off.
"When?" Isa asks, "we are urgently occupied at the moment, and it's only chance that we were in this part of the world tonight."
"If the King continues down this course of action, aid the Azure Dragoon. If the Dragoon stands against the King, Osler stands with the Dragoon."
"As the Dragoon stands for Cardia," Isa concludes.
"And what sort of company might we expect, apart from the Dragoon?"
"You have time. The King still musters support from the Academy." He looks grave. "Your spear is no longer at the Academy. That is good. We believe the spears are being modified."
"They're what," hisses Yves, somewhat less quietly than before.
"Will her Grace be returning to the country after tonight's show?" Isa asks.
"Yes," he replies. "Count Ondore is not accompanying her, as they will be entertaining Count Nakamura in two weeks."
"Please inform her that we will call on her there as soon as our current business is concluded." Isa says.
"Of course. Will there be anything further?" he asks.
"On behalf of all of us, please convey our thanks for tonight's invitation. Thank you, Retho. That will be all."
Retho bows to Isa, bows again to the assembled guests, and then excuses himself from the Osler box.
Isa turns back to the stage, but it's obvious she's not hearing the music.
"Why is Cardia going to war with Machanon?" Orrey asks.
"Why is anyone attacking Mechanon?" Yves demands, still sotto voce, but not at anyone in particular.
"Are we going to war immediately after we leave, and if so, can I take off these shoes first?" Linnet side-mouths.
"Machanon is just a collection of loose city-states," Celeste says quietly. "We're no risk to anyone except ourselves."
"Not here, not now," Isa deflects.
Bast endorses that with a heavy nod and a lingering look at Isa before turning back to the tail end of the performance.
Rahel tugs Linnet's hand, gently, and Linnet manages to refocus on the swooping dulcet tones of Hikaru.
The show comes to an end.
Bast lifts his glass, refilled for a second time just before the visit - then sets it back down.
After the applause dies down well after Hikaru has left the stage, everyone mills about down below, allowing the higher classes the choice of staying to socialize or leaving early.
Yves clutches his hands very tightly in front of himself, to avoid shredding his hat-feather. "...nnn..."
"Act casual, sweetheart. You're at a concert! Enjoying yourself! Think about the music." Linnet, for her part, is trying not to think about standing back up again in these shoes and this skirt.
Yves tries for the kind of smile appropriate to an opera fan who is not thinking about imminent war.
As he gets up, Bast asks Isa in a casual tone: "Do we have other...engagements here?"
Isa looks at Bast. "Well, I was going to get changed out of these clothes and invite you all on a tour of my favorite bars in town."
"I think drinking heavily is an excellent idea, before we do anything else," Yves says, in all sincerity.
Linnet raises her hand. "Can we strictly forbid politics talk while bar-crawling? Because if so I am totally in."
"No questions, just beer? Agreed," Isa says.
"Beer first, war later," Yves says.
"Agreed. A drink would suit me just fine." Orrey says, fumbling the cane a bit as he rises out of his seat.
Isa nods. "I dare you to find a soldier who'd disagree, Yves. Let's get to it."
"Mm. The Academy would be the place full of impressionable young idiots who would keep us afloat in beer for the story of what we just came back from, yes?" Bast asks.
After considerable fumbling, Linnet swears mightily, removes the four-inch heels Eiri insisted were "just dahling," dons a pair of foldable flats from her purse instead, and carries her shoes out of the box, with more train to trip over but less possibility of breaking an ankle while doing so. No longer the same height as Rahel but no longer caring, she announces, "Let's go make some appearances."
Isa says "But first, pants."
"And," Yves says fervently, "fewer hats, I swear, Bast, I will never push the captain's one on you again."
"I'll pick up the slack, don't worry," Linnet says.
"I dunno, this hat is kinda growing on me." Orrey says, setting it at what might be a jaunty angle.
The look Bast gives Orrey is...fraught. "I'm thinking we want to talk about our trip to the Eye tonight. Get some conversation going. Isa, objections?"
Isa shakes her head. "Sounds good to me. Let's get moving."