The Masquerade Ball (Open to ALL)

[Roderick]

Well that was... odd. As he drew ever closer to the Peacock and his opponents Roderick realized that time passed by at a drastically different rate than it did in the real world; the Brandons had just been about to fight last time he saw them, when he was with Engghaen. The time it had taken him to impersonate the captain should have allowed the fight to go on for several minutes, but it was only beginning just now as he broke free of the crowds, allowing him a good look at them. One of doubles was felled by a knife to the throat, croaking out a few words before he collapsed and turned to vapour before them all. Snaking its way along, Roderick noticed the grey smoke making its way towards the original Brandon, apparently joining together with him, though it might have simply dissipated when it reached him. The other copy became furious at the act, his determination growing exponentially. Oddly enough his opponent maintained the confident, almost amused act he had had earlier, eyes glinting in the candlelight. Just then, as he was considering moving forwards, a hand wrapped itself around his arm and spun him about abruptly; Roderick's eyes took a few tics to steady themselves as the addition of a scarred face loomed up before him. After a moment he recognized the familiar face as the Charoda from earlier. During the tirade of words that flowed from her mouth he remained puzzled over where he knew her. Focusing on the present, he let the information she was providing soak in; none of what was happening around them was real - it wasn't a dream. For a moment that made no since, especially when one considered the fact that a dream in of itself wasn't real, but after a bit of thought the pieces clicked together and it made a little more sense. The Charoda called what he was seeing a trap for someone else's mind, resolving herself to find out who exactly it was for, but before he could properly understand she had turned around and left him. Walking through the Peacock and the thief as though they weren't there, the Charoda walked over to the shattered frame of the mirror - which had quite possibly relocated itself to an entirely different part of the room - and, passing through thin air, promptly vanished. For a little while Roderick just stood and looked after her, feeling her strange words wriggling into his brain and poisoning his thoughts with her nonsense. A frown spread over his features as he sighed heavily; he shouldn't have expected any amount of sense from her. That particular thought reaffirmed his notion that he knew her from somewhere, but as of yet he had not quite determined where that might have been. Dismissing what she'd said for the time being, he resolved himself to thinking it over later; for now he would turn his attention towards the Peacock and the various clones that were trying - and failing rather miserably - to kill him. With the reckless one out of the picture only the thief remained to oppose his lover's abuser. Judging the situation on how easily the man - a morpher, Roderick knew, as he changed the shape of his arm to that it was tipped with vicious claws, perfect for shredding flesh - had defeated the first of his two opponents, he doubted that the other copy would have any more luck in his attempts to protect the spurned Kelvic girl. After looking around on a whim Roderick realized that a fair number of the guests had vanished utterly. Perhaps some of them had gone out through a door somewhere, or were simply gathering in a different section of the room. While Roderick didn't know the specifics behind it all, but he did know that only a chime or two ago there had been at least two hundred or so guests within the room; now there were fewer than a hundred. Every now and then there was the slightest, barely noticeable flicker that passed over his vision, brief images of the missing guests forming up in their various poses, showing what they were doing. He was peering a little more closely at everything and could see that there was perhaps a little truth to what the Charoda had been saying; whenever his vision flickered he was bombarded with a the minutest of details that painted a picture of what was really going on around here - but his mind struggled to piece them all together, so that they were swiftly driven from his head, vanishing without a trace. By the time he had turned back towards the Peacock, his attention and thoughts on the dwindling number of people in the crowd had all but vanished, so that everyone appeared to have returned to their former places, the illusion returned to normality. Roderick remained blissfully unaware of his minds struggles with the half-dream, perhaps being helped along in that regard by the three mysterious beings that had been watching over affairs for the entire night. Assessing the events that were unfolding around him, the young man took notice of the dagger that had once been wielded by the Peacock - abandoned and forgotten by the two combatants, left for someone else to take. Never one to spurn such an enticing offer, Roderick took a few steps forward and bent his knee to collect the fallen weapon, slipping it into the palm of his hand and withdrawing from the small arena the two fighters were in. Looking down at the blade in his hand he wondered about why he had picked it up - especially since there had been no need to. A better question was why he cared about the chaos in here; normally he would have left everyone to their own devices, but tonight he had decided to go on a spree of good deeds, helping the Kelvic girl to find her companion and working towards clearing away all the statues that had come to litter the room. Maybe it was that little voice inside that told him to be good; normally he tried to ignore it - mostly because being a good man involved throwing oneself into danger. Perhaps he avoided jumping into the line of fire in the real world because it involved endangering himself for the benefit of a stranger; here he was free of any such worries - he could be split open with a sword and in the morning wake with only a bad thought about it, rather than a gaping, bleeding wound.

[Engghaen]

Engghaen walked away from the copies and whatever else was going on. These were not Brandons nor a real attacker. Then her attention changed to a figure she had seen walking around for a while. It was someone of some sort of importance, she knew. He picked up Wrenmae's dagger and immediately she walked towards him. Why? Because she had nothing to do at all. And there should be someone to fix this place, shouldn't there? After all, they were fighting and it was no fun to watch.

"Why don't you do anything? This is a party, not a barfight of some sorts. I know you have already helped removing the statues Brandon's copy has made, but I can't see them fighting. I don't like parties anyway."

Then she realised this was the face of the man laying below the pilar. "W..wait... Do you have copies of yourself too?"

x

[Roderick]

Trust her to notice me... Looking down at the small Kelvic as she came over to him and asked him why he wasn't doing anything, Roderick felt a slight sense of dread about his earlier decision to maintain this disguise he'd assumed. For a moment he simply stood and listened to her words, while he thought about what he could say to her to try and avoid drawing attention to the fact that he wasn't who he said he was. Before he could, though, she suddenly asked him if he had copies of himself running around. Staring at her quietly for a moment he felt confusion descending over him, before he realized what had happened; she must have seen the captain in the sideroom. Confronting her about this secret would blow his guise and make her realize that he wasn't the true captain. As of right now she seemed to believe that he was suffering the same ill effects brought on by the mirror as Brandon Blackwing was, and so he decided that going along with that presumed idea was in his best interests. "Sadly enough, yes. I was meddling with the mirror a while ago and a pair of copies sprang forth and started causing all manner of trouble for the staff - that is why I want to resolve matters here immediately. One of my clones went missing, though - where did you see him?" He slipped the knife into his belt "You must tell me where he is, so I can detain him. I've discovered that killing the clones will return their essence to the original." That was really just a theory he had right now, from the brief glimpse he had gotten of what happened following the reckless one's death. All the same it sounded like it was true, and so it would hopefully convince the girl to leave him alone. Off to his left four guards approached, garbed in their plate and mail and carrying poleaxes, longswords hanging from their belts. Gesturing to them Roderick turned back to the girl. "You must excuse me, madam, but I have to deal with these troublemakers." Turning away from her as a man with work to do would, he met the other guards halfway and pointed towards the thief and Peacock. "These two men are disrupting the other guests - they are to be placated immediately, specifically the one dressed in grey; he is the one who began this fight." Turning towards Brandon and Wrenmae, Roderick stepped forwards with the authoritative air his disguise commanded; with a face that radiated intimidation and dread, but with a good layer of charm and comeliness to offset that when he smiled or relaxed his face, Captain Markus had a trim beard, slightly curled mustache and slicked-back hair, all a dark brown. Setting a grim look about his mimicked features, Roderick spoke in a commanding tone "By order of Quintus Caravel, I command you to cease your hostilities!" Motioning to the other guards, they moved forwards as one, their weapons lowered towards the two combatants. First he looked at the Peacock "If you come peacefully I will simply separate you from him and allow you to continue your evening - if you resist you will end your night on the cobblestones outside." Turning towards the thief with a dark look he let his voice raise in strength and anger slightly. "And as for you... if you try to stop any of my men, I will personally cut your head from your shoulders. Now stand down and leave this place with some dignity, or I'll have your corpse thrown into the nearest gutter like the trash your are." EngghaenWell Rod actually went back to his normal outfit and face after he spoke to the servant the second time, but I liked the idea of him keeping the disguise up, so I've edited that earlier post and gone this way. BrandonSorry about the clone supposedly going back to the original, Brandon, but I thought it seemed a fairly decent idea, so I went with it; you've the final say on whether it happened or not.

[Engghaen]

RoderickOops. I always forget to re-read threads I haven't posted in for a while. Oh well. Thanks anyway :$

Right. Made sense, didn't it? Brandon gets his own copies, this man gets his own copies... Obviously this party was growing odd. Pointing at what she thought was the right pilar -it was hard, she might have pointed a few places to the left or right- she nodded. "Behind that pilar somewhere. He is knocked unconscious." If he did not know that already. Apparently he did not, listening to what he told her.

Then some other, weirdly dressed guards came in and Roderick excused her. Argh. Maybe she could just better wait outside on the cobblestones than be here. This was awful. Curiously following the heavily armed men, she stopped to look at what they wanted to do. Hm, that is not exactly what I would call a 'subtile threat'. More of a 'stop or I'll cut your head off and grill it above the fire' kind of thing. Since this was not the real Brandon, though, she did not mind a lot. But it would be annoying if he would go, she would not have anyone else to talk to, and she was already so alone here.

Walking away she sat down underneath a table. Why she did that, no idea. Maybe because nobody could see her. Maybe because she had nothing to do and did not know how to celebrate in this thing called a 'party'. Maybe because she just wanted to disappear.

x

[Celeste Arumen]

The young girl nodded along. ”I can imagine our Masters only tell us what they think we need to know.” There was a great deal about Riyanna she still didn’t understand. The simple fact she was able to speculate spoke volumes. If Celeste had all the information, she would have volunteered it gladly. Yet there was more! The little girl leaned forward, resting a pair of silent lips against her steepled fingers.

”Qiao is going to prove to be a real problem,” she replied warily, moving her hands to her lap. The fact that Malestrom survived an encounter with a master hypnotist spoke a great deal about the depth and breadth of his insanity, too. She filed the detail away for later. ”It’s entirely possible there is more to Riyanna than even I understand. I’ll be conducting an investigation of my own, to be sure.” She snagged another drink from a passing waiter, pushing her empty glass to the side.

”I hate to turn the discussion to philosophy, but I was wondering something.” The young girl took a preemptory sip of wine. ”What are your plans? I mean, for when you become a Wizard?” They were likely different from what she’d initially planned. Since their meeting, Annalisa had changed considerably. Celeste had no trouble regarding her as a friend. The trouble was, she’d seemed completely different to start. Did the woman relish in pain because deep inside, it gave her joy? Or was it true that she’d only caused pain in the name of the identity given her?

Celeste couldn’t help it; she thought the best of her. No matter what Annalisa did or would do, she would always see someone better inside. Celeste had known she was a good person from the start, maybe somewhere deep within. Perhaps not always honest, but neither was she. Just like Kit, Anna had her own reasons for behaving the way she did. Just like Celeste herself. It wasn’t her place to question it. Instead, she chose to appreciate.

Still, curiosity was difficult to ignore. ”I don’t know what I’ll do,” she offered, hoping to extend an olive branch. ”I’ve decided that maybe with my power, I can imagine something greater. You inspired me to do that. Maybe, just maybe I can make Sahova a better place.” Earnestly, she smiled and her teeth were stained red, ever so slightly.

”Perhaps you want the opposite. No matter what, I like you, so don’t be afraid to tell me the truth.” And in that disarming way of hers, she was completely and utterly sincere.

[Annalisa Marin]

Celeste's initial assessment was probably one of the biggest understatements of the century, at least as far as Anna was concerned. Amaryllis did as Amaryllis wanted, it was her way and Anna was in no position to demand more from her. That could very well get her killed. The Embalmer told her what she thought she needed to know, or more to the point what was convenient for her to know. At the end of the day though, Anna was a pulser, a member of the living races. Not only that but she was human, a short lived race that counted their lives in years and decades. On Sahova, no matter how powerful she became she would always be lesser. Amaryllis no doubt viewed her as a useful tool, little else.

Celeste seemed to indicate her own relationship with her Master was similar, but such was the way of Sahova and life in general. People used other people to get what they wanted, even now with a bit more ease being around the girl Anna couldn't lose the thought that she was only opening herself up to get hurt. If Rhysol came before her again and ordered her to betray the child, would she resist? Or would she simply follow his command, reveling in that sick thrill of a well executed betrayal?

Qiao, was both the problem and the solution. Once Anna possessed his full support doors would fling open and the path to advancement would be made much more easy. She'd be in a better position in the Citadel and have actual backing to any action she might need to take. It would feel good to be someone for a change, not just another nameless apprentice or Pulser that scurried about looking for scraps.

Celeste shifted her focus to another subject entirely, unfortunately she was asking questions that Anna herself had lost the answers to. Where did she go from here? After recognizing that blind faith in an uncaring god was the wrong path, what more did she have. Her magic of course, but hadn't that once been her purpose? Stripped of either her mark, or her magic Anna still didn't know who she was.

The girl spoke of her own plans and Anna allowed herself to recline further back in her chair. A smile graced her lips for a brief moment but vanished soon after as she thought of how to respond.

"There was the old plan. The goal of rising high as high as I could in the ranks of Sahova, to twist and shatter the hopes of others to bring them into Rhysol's fold. I wanted to corrupt all I touched and be vindicated in the eyes of my god. That was the old plan." Anna stated bluntly.

"Truth be told, I don't know what I want to do. I feel lost, as if when stripped of Rhysol or my power I'm nothing. Just a vessel for powers beyond herself. Oh, I know what field I want to get into but beyond that its all grey." She continued at length.

Gods, she sounded pathetic. Part of her jeered at this weakness, actually being genuine with her thoughts and feelings. A sniveling child was what she sounded like, not the powerful Sorceress capable of inspiring fear with her talents. Fear, now that was something she enjoyed causing more than pain or chaos. It was amusing to watch fools piss themselves, terror clear on their brows.

It wasn't like that was actually hurting anyone, right? Scarring people? Anna considered it for a moment before shaking her head, no reason to dwell on that at the moment. Maybe that was a middle ground to satisfy her darker urges, it was something to look into at the very least. Right, a side project for the next time she walked the Dungeons. There had to be a way to channel the urges.

"I like you Celeste, but you shouldn't say things like that. You saw what I was capable of, you've heard what I've done. I'm amused at things that horrify others, a rather odd choice of friend and a dangerous one." Anna said with a chuckle, putting in place the mask of amusement that fell so easily upon her face.

It was a tempting thought and this whole thing was something she wanted, genuine friendship. She wanted Celeste to be that person who could actually accept her, but there were not many that could. What had the girl said about her once, that she sought power for no specific end? Implying that she was less than human? The girl had seen the monster and made her opinion clear of the nature of that side of her. In the end Anna knew deep down that Celeste could never actually accept those urges, those moments of dark pleasure.

Even without Rhysol to have been there a thrill had coursed through her as she'd looked in the helpless prisoner's eyes, drank deeply of his fear. However, perhaps this thing went two ways. Everyone needed to make sacrifices after all in friendship. Hiding away the darkest and most depraved parts of herself, if only for her new found friend's sake seemed like a sacrifice to make.

"I'm sorry for scaring you in the Dungeons." The sorceress said quietly, regarding Celeste again.

[Celeste Arumen]

”You see?” She replied at once, an eyebrow raised. ”You aren’t as devious as you to pretend.” Celeste shook her head with a smile. ”Every person is capable of those things. It’s not about who we can be, but who we choose to be.” Her mouth twisted uncomfortably. ”I’m no angel,” she continued, softer as she went along. ”I’ve done some things that I regret. I’m no average little girl.” She thought back to swindling people, taking all they had. She’d likely starved people to death, giving them less consideration than she gave this woman. She could only take responsibility for her actions. For better or worse, it seemed like the thing to do at the time.

It was funny but in a way, Celeste had never learned to make excuses, because she’d never had anyone else to blame. In her heart of hearts, she knew the meaning of true responsibility. She’d faced her fair share of consequences, after all. The diminutive girl took another swig of her wine. ”I’ve never killed anyone directly, but I’ve been... Unkind. I’ve hurt people. I know the pleasure of cruelty.” She thought back to several different times, none of them pleasant. ”I just choose to be someone else.”

It made her happy, ultimately, to make Riyanna happy. It once made her happy to please Kit, too. Celeste knew there were few things more satisfying. ”Like Velia,” she said in a low tone of voice, hoping she hadn’t crossed the line. She could see the thought written all over Annalisa’s face. ”I don’t think you want to be forgiven.” She looked just so… Heartbroken. Torn between good and evil.

”We all hurt people. I do too. I kill things – failbeasts - and even though I know that it should be okay, that they’re marked as failures, I think to myself – aren’t we? The Nuit see us as failures. That was why they started the Wardens in the first place. They want humans to dispose of their waste because that’s all they think we’re good for.” She bit her lip, considering what to say next. ”There just… There is no good or evil. I realized that a long time ago. Maybe you think you’re evil or something, that you’ll hurt me. That you were evil all along.”

The initiate crossed her legs. ”But you’re not! You’re not evil. There is really only “us” and “them.” She smiled. ”You’re in control. You get to decide which is which.” She smiled weakly. Alvadas was never so clear-cut. Even the government had it’s own agenda. She had ample opportunity to develop a sense of morality, even as young as she was. ”It may seem stupid, but you don’t need Rhysol or Amaryllis or anyone else trying to tell you who to be. Think of the person you were before all that.”

Now, here was the hard part. She hardly knew the sorceress. ”I can’t really say who that was, but in the difficult moments, just ask yourself what she would do? I do that, sometimes.” She thought of the exuberant, nine-year old within that she struggled to hold onto. Again, the girl took a swallow of wine. This was not the conversation she’d expected.

[Annalisa Marin]

Anna thought carefully about Celeste's words, about thinking what she would have done before Rhysol when she was still relatively decent. Ironically enough she remembered that if there was anyone on Mizahar she loved with all her heart it was Velia, her sister in all but blood. If the other woman had wanted mountains moved she'd have found a way to do it. The people she was close to had been the most important people to her, her morality was really based off of not just wanting to use magic to be stronger but to protect and help them.

Her parents hadn't accepted her magic but Velia had, before Rhysol there was nothing she wouldn't have sacrificed to make the woman happy. After her parents died she'd been her only family left. However all it took was a single moment of weakness for the darker side of people to manifest, her was ugly indeed.

Thinking on this situation, on how to handle Celeste she thought to herself exactly what she would have done. She would have given her a chance, let her in, to embrace this second chance at true friendship. It was selfish perhaps, but Anna had always been selfish just as she had always enjoyed the awe and fear people regarded her magic with. She hadn't wanted to fight for some massive cause, she'd just wanted the strength to protect her friends and destroy those who would harm them. It was part of the reason she'd sought magic in the first place.

The sorceress sighed, sipping once more at her wine. It was rather irritating that she wasn't even feeling buzzed, what was the point of being at a party if she couldn't get drunk? Must have watered it down or something, petching rich folk.

"While I'm not completely convinced you are right I'm willing to try this, I'm not certain what it will accomplish but there it is." She said finally.

Her grey eyes fell seriously upon Celeste once the words left her lip, eyes hard as steel.

"Also, if you know what's good for you, you'll never let the words failure and your name enter the same sentence. It irritates me for it to even be implied by others. Anyone implies it to you please feel free to show them to me, I need some target practice." The sorceress said, her tone a little annoyed.

In her own strange way it was her means of telling Celeste to not let the Nuit's get to her. Anna had long sense learned that because she was living she was lesser, that didn't stop her from fighting tooth and nail to stay alive, she had no desire to meet Dira just yet. It would happen one day, everyone, undead or not, had a way of being delivered to her but that day was going to be postponed as long as possible.

Deciding that the mood had become a little too emotional for her liking Anna decided to change the subject to something more light than plots and philosophy. Honestly this little ongoing joke of her had been dancing around in her head, bring dark chuckles to her lips when Amaryllis wasn't listening. It was a way to amuse herself if nothing else. Besides a little gossip between apprentices was all in good fun. Its what she'd done with Velia once upon a time.

"So, I'm working on a theory of my own. I suspect Amaryllis possesses some form of fetish towards peacocks." The woman said, her expression completely and utterly serious.

"Now bear with me for a moment, I have proof in indication of this theory. First off there is her choice in wardrobe, though she also possesses a closet of sorts with pretty much identical clothing all lined up neatly. Next there is her quill. So my job is to catalogue the corpses in the Palsa Hydrasa, morbid but rather simple. When she handed me her quill to use and gave me a look that in no uncertain terms told me that any damage to it would be reflected upon me." Anna continued, leaning forward and lowering her voice conspiratorially.

"The definitive proof, however, has to be her apparent 'relationship' with Roknus Maelstrom. Mad man though he is I suspect they once had something resembling an affair going on, other than the madness they seem rather well fit. So why break it off, because he was obviously not avian enough!" Anna said it with the inflection as though she had solved some great mystery.

The woman nodded sagely to herself, a grin and low chuckle building in her chest the only indicator to the joking nature of the theory. Though really, Anna would be surprised if Amaryllis secretly hoarded the birds some place. Perhaps that bore looking in to, when she had less important things to worry about such as life or death struggles and her Wizard Evaluation.

"Don't get me wrong, I'll swing either way if it suits me and certainly not limit myself to humans, but there is something of a line." Anna commented.

[Quint Caravel]

The little Kelvic man stared at the clock. "It is midnight. It is time. The season draws to an end and the Masquerade Ball is reaching its inevitable conclusion. It is time."

The woman next to him shook her head. "Too bad. I was enjoying myself. I rather liked playing as that Svefra girl, the one with the mark." She indicated the gnosis of Nysel on her arm."

The Kelvic man shrugged. "Such a tragic couple. Their inability to let go even in the face of death itself... well, it allowed us access to the sailor's dreams, and now to our true target. And all these other fine minds, of course."

"There were many who dreamed. Have you been keeping a list?" She turned to the third man.

He nodded and slid a parchment scroll to her.

The Kelvic man snatched it. "We do not want to anger one god while attempting to do the bidding of another. Thanks must be given to those who attended, especially this week."

The robbed man nodded. He slid a new domino mask onto his face which shivered and shimmered for a moment. Now he was-- or was a dead ringer for-- the original host of the party, the half-Svefra with the piercing blue eyes and white tuxedo.

In one stride he jumped out of the balcony box seat. He leaped down to where Engghaen sat under the table, squatted down and flashed her a smile. "Hello. You're quite pretty. We should have a dance before the clock fully strikes midnight."

Then he stood up. He snapped his fingers, and while Celeste and Annalisa were allowed to continue their conversation, he bade the boys contain themselves and their antics for a moment. He called out in a stentorian baritone: "Ladies and Gentlemen and Pycons of all ages, I am Quint Caravel of Sunberth, thanking you for coming to the Masquerade Ball. Not every event is to every taste. Some found it a bit static, some found it a bit chaotic. Some immersed themselves in verbal intercourse, some in eating and dancing, some in combat, and some came and went with the briefest of cameos. And that is all quite all right. A party this size caters to all tastes."

He glanced all around the room, looking from face to face. He rubbed his nose and covered his mouth when he spoke next. "This was the first party that I have thrown, and I have learned a great deal from it. I-"

Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by the sight and sound of a parchment smacking him in the forehead. The woman dressed for a carnival in beads and feathers called down to him, suggesting he get on with reading the list.

He picked up the list. "Right now, I would like to thank all the guests for coming. Especially the following. Join me in giving a round of applause for each person as their name is called. If you're not sure who is who, just keep an eye on this giant oil painting behind me."

The images were from Quint's point of view, filtered through his memory and observation; they flickered one by one as the names were called. "In no particular order: Taylani, a vision in burgundy..., Einla, in sequins and grey..., Rhys the discrete..., Snowdrop, beautiful blue eyes peeking out of a mask of blue and gold..., Assilsa, dancer on the ceiling..., Brandon, of the famed Black Wings..., Engghaen, she who prefers looking up at a table..., Roderick, adorned in fine black leather..., Valerius, handsome in an elegant suit of black and silver..., Pjeil, bored Isur with the blue arm..., Wre-- Murdock, fancifully adorned in a wide-sleeved robe and peacock blue mask..., Annalisa, enchanting in an emerald and sapphire colored dress, ..., Celeste, the comely and giggling young dancer..., Ardan, dressed as a black panther..., M'wanii, a vision in a light sparkling cream dress embroidered with pearls...., golden-eyed Tinnok in her one-armed gown, ..., and Jeepea the Pycon." Hmm. The Pycon had apparently already left. Perhaps it didn't dream much, if at all. But that was all right; no list of thanks would be complete without mentioning him; in a way this was all Jeepea's dream.

A formal bow and flourish. "Thank you one and all! Carry on!"

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

The gentleman blinked his eyes when he saw the silver smoke rise up from the reckless one’s body. Well, he didn’t really see the body, neither had he seen what had happened, but he felt something bad was going on. He could feel a stab in his heart, as if a part of him had died. Part of the original that is. He found this whole replication chaos somewhat confusing, although he probably was the one who knew the most of it.

Most people seemed to take him for the real Brandon, including Engghaen. He wasn’t. He only held the body of the original Brandon, but his mind wasn’t the same. When the looking glass had scattered into tiny shards, he had soon realized what had happened. The Original body had stayed with him, but the mind had split up in four parts. Each part received its own body and represented a particular part of the real Brandon’s personality.

The reckless one was probably the one that most resembled Brandon’s personality. Well, the most actually. The gentleman himself too, but not in the same amount. Together they almost formed the real nature of the bat Kelvic. Of course, they weren’t complete without the other two. The gentleman suspected that the Observer was the vigilant side of Brandon. Also the side that preferred dramatics. It probably was how he hoped he came over like when going on a job. Mysterious. Cold.

The thief was obviously his greed. Nothing more nothing less. Just greed. The gentleman shrugged. It was part of Brandon as well as any other of the clones. Then the reckless one. The playful aspect of Brandon’s mind. The one that pushed him to do rash and dangerous stuff. The part that usually dominated the other ones. It was possible to influence some of his actions however. That was what the gentleman usually did. He was the voice of reason after all. And of course the polite side of the bat.

When the smoke first drifted into his vision in the corner of his eye, he had no idea what was going on. Then it dawned on him. One of the reflections had died. It came his way. Swirling around his body, the gentleman heaved his arms in surprise as it curled over his chest. Then, it started invading his body via all the openings it could find. It entered through his ears, nose and mouth . not even his eyes were spared. The gentleman felt like he was choking, inhaling smoke that made him light headed. And then it stopped. The gleam of mischievousness returned to his eyes. A grin on his lips.

The first things his hands did was going up to feel his neck. Nothing was there. Hadn’t he died then? Seeing his sleeves, he noticed he was not wearing his usual clothes anymore. Instead he wore a weird flame patterned vest. Something seemed stuck on his face. It was a part of the mask he had worn before. It seemed ages ago since it had vanished from his face, but somehow part of it had returned. It only covered one eye.

But where was he anyway? He remembered standing near the peacock, but that guy was not here. Neither was the thief. He did see a wall of people, forming a small circle around something. The two combatants probably. He would go over there. Get back in the fight. That was what he wanted to do anyway, but as soon as that thought had popped up, other ones had as well. Consequences. Risks involved. The ease with which the peacock had cut him down. He wasn’t a match. He couldn’t win. No chances of survival. Reluctantly he dismissed the revenge he wanted to get on the masked man.

Meanwhile the thief lunged himself at the peacock in question. one fist drawn backwards, readying himself to punch him on that stupid mask of him. While charging at his opponent, he noticed that everything outside their snug little arena was accelerated. People sped past them, a charoda walked right between him and the peacock without fear before vanishing into the frame of a mirror. Guards blinked into positions, like ghosts. One tall guy screamed something in fast forward, his voice higher than it usually would have sounded. He couldn’t make out a single word.

He ignored them. They only distracted him from what he had to do. Get the peacock mask back for killing the reckless one and hurling Enggy like thrash. The claws on his fingers looked sharp and mean, but he didn’t care. He didn’t mind ending up dead either. Even if he would be impaled on that claws, he would still go on with his action, until no breath was left in his lungs. His face was grim. He sped up even more, sprinting towards his foe, planning to take him head on.

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