The Fox and Moon Inn Presents

Yasumi

The mysterious owner of the Fox and Moon Inn watched from the balustrade, wearing an outfit that glittered like the very stars around them. A hat did little to hide her visage-- it was more a manner of appearing in polite company, with its great black brim and black gossamer gauze only slightly obscuring her red vulpine muzzle. She was in rarified airs tonight, a thin wisp of smoke exhaling from her nostrils as ears flicked to Jericho appearing on stage, his voice booming--

"Presenting: Romerico and Jerichette, a tragic tale of forbidden love!"

Yasumi's claws dug into the fine masonry. "What did he say?" She grabbed the nearest staff member within reach, pulling the poor worker up to her snarling muzzle. "Did that man just say Romerico and Jerichette?"

"M-mistress, I do not know," the worker stammered.

"Then find me someone who does!" Yasumi shoved the worker away, and began to work the crowd. Gods old and new help her, she could not afford for this to be a mistake-- the Inn needed a new stream of revenue, and she had never seen so many bright and eager faces, packed wall to wall.

Maintaining an air of poise and grace, Yasumi crossed the elegant ballroom and began to pause at patron's tables, placing her hand on shoulders and inquiring into the enjoyment of her visitors. She made sure cups were filled, plates were full, and every guest had a smile.

At one point, her whiskers twitched. The scent of a mage's magic perfumed the air, so thick it was cloying. A very... very powerful mage. She had only caught scent of one other like it-- and that was not Aleister whom she was identifying.

But no matter. Right now she had to make sure everyone was having a lovely time before she turned this play into a tragedy in 4 acts; the last being Jericho's doom. [317]

—

Lasair

Up near the front of the stage, taking up the first few rows of tables with unabashed greed to have the best seat in the house, sat Lasair Andraste and her gathered crew of the underground. She fit the opulent scenery like a glove in her newest disguise: herself. Gone were the red eyes and claws and jagged teeth across her middle, just for tonight. There was no point in stewing at home while she waited for news to come back of Valien Martheny, the spy she was hunting down who might know of Bas' location. She was here instead to focus on her lovely Jerry's show, clapping and shouting his name when he came onto the stage, and all her men clapped thunderously along with her, as good henchmen do.

She laughed with abandon at the issues with the lights and backdrop, spending that lull to look around the glorious hall at other magic theater-goers. She could eaaily spend the aftermath recruiting any number of them, really - you never knew how desperate even the finest patrons were unless you dug underneath the surface with an opportunity. So when she spied a pair just entering the hall in the most garish disguises she'd ever seen, she leaned over to her right-hand man, Hazaiah, to give them one of her calling cards she just had redone. The trick of the poster invitation really had been something, and she felt no shame in following the new trend. Copying is the best form of flattery, from her experience.

Hazaiah sighed, leaving a high tray of delectable baked goods on his plate (she'd set no limit to what her men could order, and of course Hazaiah would take advantage, the wretch) and walked the card over to Ioeth and Enn, which offered her service of cloak disguises, for a price.

Lasair, in the meantime, turned back to the show, delighted and unaware of the proprieter's plan for her beloved friend. [326]

—

Enn

When a second person walked directly up to him and Ioeth, this time with a card, Enn was starting to have doubts about this whole disguising thing. It was kind of having the opposite effect, in a way, but he had not been recognized as far as he could tell. So did it work or not?

A look at the card betrayed it wasn’t working. “Really. I’m assuming this is for you.” Enn mumbled, leaning over to Ioeth to hand them the little card. “Or we’re simply fashion disasters and this is a direct call-out.” As long as he held on to someone else’s magic, like Ioeth’s, he could read it. And in this environment it was unlikely he wouldn’t be copying someone else at every turn. (127)

—

Ioeth

“For me?” Ioeth took the card, raising an eyebrow; the thick paper held the same kind of shimmering lettering as the poster had. A quick skim made them pause and read more closely, eyes narrowing as the message became clear. Enchanted cloaks, used as disguises… Suddenly they recalled Mochrie’s cloak, the one he had got from, in his words, a ‘criminal manipulator of noble birth’. Ioeth would bet their whole shop inventory that this card came from the same person—one Lasair Andraste.

“Maybe both,” they murmured, pocketing the card. Despite Mochrie’s words of caution back then, perhaps this would be something to look into… a disguise that didn’t rely on their own magic. (113)

—

Ezekiel

It'd been some years since Ezekiel had found himself within an inn for anything else but a meal and a place to sleep. He much preferred to keep to himself, when possible, and only really deal with other people when absolutely necessary. He was still not sure why he had chosen to come and watch this play. Perhaps it was curiosity getting the best of him for a change. It couldn't hurt, to take a look around anyhow, and he could watch from the sidelines.

Tugging the coat closer around him, he looked at the Fox and Moon Inn. Quite unusual from those he had gotten used to around Ivras. For a moment it takes him back years, to place he visited once and now barely remembers. Yet, the smell from the many tea leaves and the interior of the inn brings the memories back for a moment, and a small smile tugs at his lips. Those had been good days, and a place he had enjoyed getting to know before time had run out and he had to move on, to see something new. He made a mental note of it, a promise to himself to return again sometime, see how the land had thrived in the meantime.

Upon entering the establishment, he took a moment to look around the Inn and take in the different scents - some from baked goods and some from various plants in the green house. A comfortable place, really, luxurious and he could only assume the owner was proud of their Inn. They had reason to be.

For now, his attention would be focused on the Inn before him and the performance that was going on. He was a little late for it, he could tell as he entered, but he took little note of time these days. Settling on a chair in the corner of the ballroom, he let his eye wander to study the show and the onlookers.

Would he, for once, make an acquaintance? Or just observe and see what this was all about? (343)

—

Aleister

He looked just slightly out of place, somehow everything in his vicinity always seemed a little bit too small. Knees up, two heads taller than everyone next to him, wearing an elaborate blueish silver mask looking a lot like his old one. But Just a bit sharper. The teeth Just a bit longer. Aleister otherwise made no effort of hiding his identity; why would he?? This was going to be a mage-only party, mages knew not to screw with him, AND he was sitting with Lasair. And EVERYONE knew not to screw with her.

But he liked to announce the challenge outright; here he is, wanted by all the Order, go get him. But no one would. Unfortunately, he did also still have his liver, which was just as wanted.

The play was, well, he just clapped along with Lasair and the rest of her henchmen. The dress looked nice though, he guessed. Instead of paying much attention Aleister had been indulging in the free drinks, straw sticking right out of the space in between the teeth in his mask. His eye was spinning behind his mask, invisible to the onlookers, but boy did he enjoy just watching people. And there were plenty of people to watch! A very handsome man with long black hair, and uh, a traffic cone accompanied by a tiny gremlin, and then there was Yasumi. Of course. He gave her a little innocent wave of his hand upon eye contact. (245)

—

Jericho

Jericho has since changed outfits behind the scenes as his glorious production kicks off into new acts; Set changes aplenty, sound effects produced by his hidden bards and paper-shakers accompanying overdramatic line delivery that's certain to echo through each and every room.

The... 'actor' stands on the right of the stage, dressed now in a dark, sleek suit, left side presented to the crowd as he confesses attraction to... Seemingly no one.

"...My beautiful lips, two blushing p...Pilgrims? Ready stand. To smooth that ragged touch with a tender kiss." Jericho raises a hand as if he's caressing the cheek of a lover, and after a moment, he sprints to the other side of the stage, turns, and reveals his right side... Which is Pink... And frilly?

Of course, Jericho-bloody-Favaris is playing both main parts, dressed half-and-half, because why wouldn't he? Hand over a leading title character to someone else? Don't be absurd!

"Good... pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much--" His voice pitches higher than before as he dons the role of 'Jerichette', dashing back and forth, professing unwavering feelings between himself, and... Himself.

It's uncertain whether there even are any other actors in this performance at this rate, considering Jericho continues to steal the show wholly. [208]