Closed Purple Rain

[Amelia]

88th Winter, 515AV

The Azure Festival had always been one of Amelia's favoured celebrations in Lhavit. The fact that the festivities lasted all day and night certainly contributed to this, but it was the extravagence of it all that really made the young woman swoon. The dresses, the masks, the gifts, the food, the drink! It was all so luxurious and Amelia loved it all.

Correction: Had loved it all.

Because now, Amelia Trisswell was not wearing a custom made dress or mask, and neither was she enjoying the finest foods and drinks the festival had to offer. Likewise the gifts she had received were not plentiful or luxurious, but rather plain and far and few in between. In fact, she had received just one gift from her mother: an old artist's set that Joanne Trisswell had not even touched. It had been purchased for her mother by Ameia's father - a present laden with guilt as at the time he was engaging in an adultrous affair that would ultimately take him and his money away from his wife nad legitmate daughter. It was his fault that Amelia could not enjoy this years Azure Festival as much as she had previous years. She had a mask (one she had handmade herself) and a dress that was a year or so old. She hoped that none of her fashion-conscious friends would notice her re-wearing of the outfit, but paranoia and anxiety nipped at her heels at all times.

The problems that haunted the young woman might have appeared those of the wealthy to anyone else, but in Amelia's mind it was all respective: to a poor man, having no food for the day was the biggest worry. For the rich (or the previously rich), having no custom-made dress was equally as terrifying and dangerous to one's life. She failed to see the imbalance in what she found concerning to what actually mattered.

But regardless of her privileged lifestyle or viewpoint, Amelia was miserable. She smiled kindly to her friends and laughed along with their stupid jokes, but she was itching to leave their company. She knew what they desperately wanted to discuss: who had spent the most on their dress, whose dress was made with the most luxurious silk, who had received the most impressive gift. But instead they meagerly spoke about everything else, and Amelia knew why --to save her from embarrassment and envy. If that wasn't enough, the cautious glances drove her insane. She was not some injured puppy who had been abused, and yet they looked at her with such pity in their eyes. She was their friend, but they were trying desperately to avoid talking about all those things they usually discussed at great length.

The more Amelia thought of it, the more she wanted to drink to drown her misery and pop pills to forget the hideousness of it all. But drugs, in her opinion, were the pastime of the wealthy - or at least the frivolous. She now felt she was neither, yet the desire to find a dark-eyed stranger in a dark-eyed alleyway grew and swelled within her until eventually Amelia declared: "Must dash, got to see the family." She turned on her heel and strode away from her friends, head held high but expression grim (thank the Gods for the mask!).

"Did you see the dress she was wearing?"

"I know, poor lamb. So sad. I wish we could throw a ball or event to raise money for her, but..."

"I know, I know. It's so hard to be charitable when there's so many other things to spend our kina on!"

[Sebastian Whitlock]

Sweat dripped from his brows, the salty drop fell onto the hot surface, hissing as it hit. Wiping a forearm against his forehead, brows knitted together, eyes trying to focus on the work. His vision blurred as the migraine pounded against his skull. The cheap liquor from the night before was making him regret not paying extra for his usual drink, but he wanted a lot more than what he could normally afford, so the cheaper it was and the more he could stretch his money, the better. Only now it was coming back to bite him.

Leaning back he rubbed his leather gloved hands against his temple, closing his eyes against the glaring sun that filtered in as it began to set. He wished it was night already, then he’d be done at work and he could begin the real fun at the festival.

The shop wasn’t open, but he had come in to try to finish up the rather shoddy mask that he’d been working on for the last few weeks. It had been a true struggle to figure out how he could get it to set on his face. Leather strips tied to holes on either side would keep it set on his face, but was unsure that it would actually fit his features. He wasn’t too worried about it though and just wanted to make sure it covered and that it would work for the evening.

He’d found a decent size piece of copper left over and had molded it, not really concerned with the durability and if it might break. It was only temporary so that he could participate in festivities for the evening.

He planned on paying for the scrap piece, not wanting to hurt the business that had given him work. It hadn’t been his intention to work for another smith, but once his father’s shop had burned down, no thanks to him, he didn’t have much of a choice. Sebastian wasn't exactly proficient in any other tasks than working metal with his hands. It had been what he’d grown up with, what he’d known his whole life, what he’d been taught and had been drilled into him by his father.

The thought of his father darkened his mood slightly and he glared at the rough piece of metal as he struck the hammer down, smoothing out the edge so that the corner was the same thickness as the rest of the piece. It was almost finished, a few more strikes to smooth out the edges and harden the copper and it should be finished.

Metal against metal rang out as the soft delrin hammer struck the beak of the mask. The dings of the hammer visible but adding to the appeal of the surface. Thankfully it was an easier metal to work with than that of iron or steel and it had been quick work that he could accomplish with a bell here and a bell there in his off time. The hard part had been cutting the small feather like pieces and welding them on.

He’d wanted something simple and easy, instead he’d done a little more work than he would’ve prefered and in the end it would end up painted on most of the surface to go with the theme of the peak. He’d purchased a dull grey and put some of the small shavings of the copper into the paint to try to give the ‘sparkle effect’. He had no idea if it was going to work but it would have to make due.

Picking up the piece he set it on his face, checking the fit and to see if there might be any sharp edges that would bother him during the night or a spot that might rub in the wrong place. It wasn’t an exact fit but it sat rather comfortably, enough to get through the night.

His painting skills were nil, but he grabbed a rag of cloth, dipped it into the paint and began smearing it on the surface of the ‘feathers’. It didn’t look too bad, but it definitely wasn’t done by an expert by any means. Holding it up he checked the surface and the copper underneath shone through the first layer of paint. He held it near the fire and waited for it to dry, picked up the dirtied cloth, slapped another coat of the paint onto the surface, the tedious work taking longer than he would prefer.

Once finished applying the second coat he inspected it again, feeling better about the flecks of the copper, the color of paint he’d chose and the hard work he’d put into piecing together the mask. It wasn’t perfect by any means and he’d done it more to get into the party than anything, but he couldn’t help feel a sense of accomplishment and a tinge of pride in the mask held before him.

Placing it onto the desk he grabbed his clothing he’d chose for the evening and brought with him, waiting for the last coat to dry. He only had his simple black shirt and pants, but he wasn’t too worried about it. Black went with pretty much everything. After having dressed, he secured the still sticky mask to his face. He hung up his apron and headed toward the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

His hand reached into his pocket feeling for the coin that he’d placed there in preparation for the evening's activities. Flipping the coins around in his fingers he made his way down the street. The night bell had already rung, which was fine because he didn’t want to deal with the people who meandered during the day at this time of year.

A foul mood had started to settle after the thoughts of his father had begun to surface and all he wanted to do was find a place to get a stiff drink and some dust to take the edge off. A woman surfaced in the corner of his vision. Eyes turned behind the mask, head still in place, they followed the blonde hair and lithe body. Her clothing and mask appeared expensive and she walked with her head high. He couldn’t see her features behind the mask but it wouldn’t matter once he’d gotten some substances in his system. Moving in her general direction, he’d decided to get a closer look.

Perhaps a soft blonde and a drink could lift his spirits.

Note3 lb Copper scrap: 1 Ki 5 Tk
.25 gal of Pre-made Grey pigment/Binder: 5 Tk

[Amelia]

No sooner had Amelia stalked away from her friends did her confidence begin to wane. From behind her mask she checked out the dresses of the women around her: there was a wide variety of quality and designs. In reality her own outfit was neither eye-catchingly poor nor expensive, and yet Amelia was paranoid. In previous years she had always been ostentatiously confident that her dress was one of the most expensive and impressive. But now?

Now she was merely standard.

The word caught a cool shiver down her spine. Amelia disliked the idea of being remarkably unspecial. She had been raised under the impression that she was anything but standard, as most children are told by their loving parents. The only different was that Amelia had believed them, and unlike other young men and women, she had not grown out of this mindset. Privilege had kept her almost childlike in her perception of herself and her life, living in her own bubble where a stomp of her foot was all she needed to do to get her own way.

But now there was nothing she could do to bring that lifestyle back to her. She missed it terribly, but refused to let her brevity obvious to those around her. She would not give her father the sense of satisfaction, even if he would no longer around to see her false confidence. He no longer cared.

All these thoughts made the young blonde desperate to drink and sniff or pop some kind of drug. Her father had hated drugs, which had only made Amelia like them all the more. Now, especially, she was desperate to do all those things he had furiously detested. She wanted to drown in a pool of the cheapest alcohol, to blow her mind with a cocktail of drugs and to kiss the darkest, baddest of boys. And who was there to stop her?

Nobody.

Except, there was one issue: where did one get drugs from? Amelia had always shared her friends’ drugs, having never actually bought her own. Was there a codeword? A look shared between customer and dealer?

She came to a sudden stop, puzzled by this challenge and annoyed that only now she had thought of it. Perhaps she could stop. Again she scanned the crowd, trying to see if she could easily recognise someone who could provide her with the kick she so desperately sought. But instead of a shady individual, she found herself face-to-face with yet another mask.

Why didn’t I think to make my mask out of metal?

The answer was obvious: because you’re a seamstress, not a metalsmith.

”Oh, hello.” She said eventually to the copper mask, the smallest of smiles flickering on her hidden lips. It came as second nature for Amelia to try and charm the opposite sex, either to get herself out of unwanted trouble or into an otherwise exclusive bar. ”Enjoying the evening?” Before the male could answer, Amelia twisted her brief introduction into an opportunity to hunt down what she wanted: ”I always think these festivals are fun, but they lack that special something.” From under her eyelashes and behind her mask, she sought out the male’s gaze and met it unblinkingly. Maybe she would get herself into trouble with what she said next, but needs must. ”You wouldn’t know where to get such specialness from, would you?”

[Sebastian Whitlock]

The original intention of only checking out the woman changed as he neared. She moved in his direction and then began to speak, he assumed that she was talking to him. Eyes roved the gown and long legs that ran from underneath and back up again. Inspecting the masked woman and trying to determine what kind of woman she might be. Was she loose and fun or was she one of the uptight socialites that mingled in with the crowds? Perhaps she was neither, but he didn’t mind finding out.

As she spoke, her voice soft and graceful, he found that she was looking for a little fun on the darkside. That was something he was rather familiar with. Sebastian prefered the darker side to things, they were always more fun than doing what everyone else was doing.

“My evening has just begun, but it appears that it’s beginning quite nicely. How is yours? Enjoying the festival?”

He had indeed just begun to walk the streets, flashy outfits and beautiful buildings loomed over him. The darkness inside him moved and swirled from the anger that had spiked earlier in the evening. It always felt as though there was this thick inky black cloud of anger, hatred and emotions that swirled in his chest and if he wasn’t careful it would breed into something quite ugly. Self medication was always his go to to keep the darkness at bay.

Still on the Shinyama peak only having left Touch of Fire a few chimes prior his destination was toward the Obsidian Club to get a stiff drink and perhaps find some other things that might help him to relax. “I might know of something fun we can get into… if you’re wanting to join me. I was heading toward Obsidian, “ he held an arm toward her, not at all object to have a woman on his arm as he entered the bar.

Moving toward the establishment he tried to glance around the edge of the eyeholes in the mask to look at the woman. Usually women were an added bonus for him during a night out, actively seeking out a long term companionship was the furthest thing from his mind. If they wanted to go to the peak where his small place resided he tried to make sure that they didn’t overstay their welcome. It might seem cold or harsh to others but he didn’t care, not caring was one of the things that kept that storm in him from gaining momentum.

Shaking his head softly he tried to reign his mind in and focus on getting to the bar and getting a drink, perhaps seeing what the lithe little blonde was truly interested in. The lighting shifted as he held the door, sweeping his arm to let the woman pass. Moving to the bar he waved to the bartend, signaling with two fingers to bring them drinks. The poignant smell of alcohol and peaches wafted from the glass as he brought it to his lips, leaning against a nearby stool.

Eyeing the woman Sebastian decided while she was around he should find out a little information, even though he may not remember it, or her, in the morning, “So what brings you out tonight?”

NoteLava Peach drinks: 2 Ki

[Amelia]

Amelia’s smile turned from falsely welcoming to genuine and relieved. She had successfully conveyed her meaning to this male while still maintaining, in her mind at least, an air of secrecy and subtlety over her itch. Recently, Amelia had been unwilling to offer herself to others as she previously had. But instead, the young woman found herself simply unwilling to make friends. She did not want any new companions to know how her lifestyle had changed so dramatically in two seasons, for reasons pertaining to self-consciousness and fear of judgement. More truthfully, Amelia did not want any bonds or lasting friendship to weigh her down. Once, her entire social circle had been filled with men and women much like her: privileged, spoilt, wealthy. But now it spanned to include all types, now even stretching to at least partially include the male who stood beside her now.

She was quite sure he was not the type of man she would usually spend time with. He had the body of a worker - and not a quill-pusher, but someone who did manual labour. A frightful thought indeed! But there was no time for judgment or snobbery right now. If anything, this gruff-looking individual could unlock the doors Amelia had recently found locked, and that was enough to please her right now.

Still, she could not help but repeat the words, ”The Obsidian?” With obvious distaste and horror. To her, Obsidian Club was a place for ne’er-do-wells and thug types with bad breathe and even worse personal hygiene. Of course she had frequented the place before, but always when she was already pretty drunk and in that oh-look-at-us-mingling-with-the-commoners ironic type of way. A tick passed and Amelia somehow managed to wipe the expression of repugnance of her face and instead replace it with a faux smile. ”Sounds… Perfect.” She said eventually, but the words tasted like chalk in her mouth. If only my friends could see me now…

Social snobbery aside, she looped armed with the stranger and allowed him to lead the way. Whilst they walked, Amelia considered what her companion might be like. She stole a glance to his hands and fingers - her mother had always told her that one could summarise a man by his hands - and found her earlier hypothesis supported: those were the fingers of a working man, strong and tough. She had the sudden desire to touch his fingertips, to feel his roughness on her own moisturised and cared-for skin. Thankfully, Amelia managed to control the bizarre urge and keep her hands to herself.

”Thank you.” She murmured lowly as he held the door to the club open for her. At least he had manners, even if his taste in venues was poor. Half-wincing, Amelia turned from her companion to inspect her surroundings, expecting the utmost worse. What she saw surprised the blonde. ”Oh!” She said with growing relief and delight, ”it’s actually quite… nice!” The main room of the Obsidian Bar was clean and fresh, not sticky-floored and sweaty like when Amelia had previous visited to conclude a night of drinks and dancing.

Again she followed her companion, this time to the bar, whilst still drinking in the surprising and pleasant setting of the Obsidian Bar. Perhaps wealthy elitism had narrowed her perception, making her assume that anything but the familiar and expensive was shabby and poor. Now the snobbish blinkers had been removed (or rather stolen from her), and Amelia could fully appreciate the less finer things in life. ”Thank you for the drink.” She said as she sipped at her glass, smiling as the sugary warmth of the alcohol danced on her tongue and down her throat. ”Oh, I always come out for the Azure Festival.” She explained nonchalantly, waving a hand in the air to dismiss the very idea of not attending the festival. ”It’s always such fun and a good night out. What about you?” She asked, returning his question back.

Amelia wondered whether it was pertinent for her to ask what his name was, or perhaps where he lived. She knew absolutely nothing about him save for the fact he frequented the Obsidian Club. Paranoia told her that this was dangerous, but she felt no fear or anxiety. In actual fact, anonymity worked both ways, and it was not an accessory that Amelia had worn before. Like a coat, she shrugged it onto her shoulders and decided that mystery would be the outfit of the day. She would not ask for his name or the details of his life, and neither would she offer hers.

A good time, however, was always on the cards.

[Sebastian Whitlock]

As she spoke he watched her, sipping on the sweet drink. He couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable being in the bar but her earlier hesitation seemed as though she’d not frequented the venue as much as he did. Her dress was that of what some of the upper class might wear and the way that she held herself appeared as though this was not her scene normally. The mask hid her features so he was unable to tell who exactly she might be. It didn’t matter to him anyway, it was nice to have some company but it wasn’t always required.

“I just like to get out and have a little fun after working all day, it’s a nice way to relax. The festival is always nice because there is more people out, more people to meet. Such as yourself.” He moved slightly closer as a group of people pushed behind him to get to the bar and order their own drinks.

Glancing around the room people mingled everywhere. Groups huddled in corners and whispered among themselves as the small band played on the stage to help set the mood. There was a calm ambience but he wondered if it was because of the band or the libations. Eyes moved again to the rooms that went into the back where people could have a little more privacy. Sometimes he would get a room to get away from the main crowd to enjoy a fun “party trick” or relax with a smooth smoke. The woman across from him seemed to have hinted at having a little more fun that the usual outing previously but he wondered if getting a private room would make her uncomfortable.

As his eyes roved they came across a group of people he’d dealt with before, they were known at the club to be carrying. This was more his style that the sweet little fruity drink in his hand, get the overall experience. Debating for a moment on whether he should bring her with or not he decided it couldn’t hurt and he didn’t think the group would mind.

Looking back to the woman across from him, her blonde hair reflecting the light, blue eyes shining from behind the mask she wore. “You said you wanted to have a little fun? Come with me.” He held his arm out again for her to take and made his way over to a curvy redhead and a olive toned, dark haired male.

“Hey, things going tonight or is it dry?” He figured they would understand what he meant, he was looking to see if they were carrying any drugs that might be fun. He didn’t have a particular one in mind, he wasn’t biased when it came to having a good time. Sebastian watched as the redhead glanced over to the woman on his arm and he paused in his usual business for some introductions. “My apologies my ladies, Sera this is…?” He wasn’t sure of her name, leaving it open he hoped she would take the cue and give her name to the woman. Pointing nonchalantly at the two opposite them he introduced the couple, “...and this is Sera and Michael.”

[Amelia]

Amelia was thankful for her mask, and those that clung to the faces of the strangers around her. For starters, it meant that her own identity was hidden from prying eyes that might recognise her from her work, or her social group. Her girlfriends would lose their minds if they caught wind of her being here, but the companionship of the male beside her added some mystery, almost some romance that could well be her salvation. Visiting the Obsidian club on your own? Tragic, sad. Visiting the Obsidian with a mysterious stranger? Daring, cool.

“What’d you do for work?” She asked with mild interest, her gaze once again falling to his hands. Workman hands, she concluded for the second time that evening. Glancing back up to his masked face from underneath her eyelashes, she added coyly, “let me guess. Something hard, tiring. Works up a sweat.” What exactly the blonde had alluded to wan’t entirely clear. The drink was bought to her lips and Amelia sipped at it delicately again, smiling as the sweet flavours danced on her tongue yet again. With a flash of her hand towards the bar staff, she ordered another two drinks. “It’s only fair.” She murmured to her companion, to quell any refusal or argument from him.

A she took her nameless companion’s arm, Amelia allowed her masked smile to drop just slightly. The promise of meeting some of his accomplices had been unexpected, and though she did not want to admit it, Amelia was nervous. She usually coped well with strangers, but these were no ordinary strangers. These were people she would have never usually socialise with otherwise, and social snobbery had her assuming the worse of them. It wasn’t that the pair looked intimidating or dangerous, they were just… of a different clique to herself.

She remained quiet as her companion spoke to them, but when the redhead woman turned to give her a critical stare, Amelia gave an instinctual little whimper from under her mask. She licked her lips, preparing a detailed and believable story to give herself to protect her real identity:

I’m Ricki, the emotionally stunted artist.

Maximilian, but call me Max. Yeah, it’s a guy’s name, what of it?

She would make herself cool and approachable, on a level with this male and female who clearly belonged to the lower steps of the social ladder. “Erin.” She said eventually, realising that the hanging silence was there for her to fill. It took some resistance for Amelia to not say nice to meet you or good evening to you both, as she would do if she were being herself. But she was not Amelia Trisswell tonight, she was Erin - no surname required. Erin was smooth, dangerous and casual. She was a woman cloaked in a thin veil of mystery, who cared about nothing but smoking and snorting and drinking.

Giving a little cough to clear her throat, Amelia tightened the disguise of Erin around her shoulders and added in a voice slightly lower than her own, “So. Anyone got any idea how to pass the time?”

ledger-2Ki for 2 x Lava Peach drinks

[Sebastian Whitlock]

With the second drink in hand, the couple in front of him, Seb realized that he’d never answered the woman next to him. It also came clear to him that her name was Erin. He wasn’t sure if it fit her features or not as he’d not seen her face, but the curves of her body said the name didn’t matter.

Attention turning back to the couple once she’d introduced herself. Sera was the first to speak, her eyes flicking from the blonde back to him, “I think it’s going to be fun in here tonight.” He smiled, flashes of previous nights the two… three, had spent together, the twinkle in his eye letting her know that he remembered without words. Lips cocked up at a half smile.

When Erin mentioned passing the time and Sera reached into her coat pocket, shaking it a little bit from side to side. He took the hint and reached into his own, shaking his as well, coins clicking together. Looking over to Erin he smiled, the corner of his mouth turning up, “We have just the thing. I think I’m going to get us a room first, it’ll be more… private that way, excuse me.” He left Erin alone for a moment with the couple and moved back to the bar.

“Rynas,” he called out to the bartender and waited for him to finish up with his tasks behind the bar, serving the other thirsty patrons. Stained fingers tapped on the surface of the bar while he waited, watching the man. Blond hair and blue eyes made his way over and Sebastian requested a private room for the group to hang out in.

Paying the coin to Rynas he moved back to the group and swung his arms toward the back rooms. “This way my good friends.” The couple moved in front and to the lead towards the room and flopping down on a couch. Music could still be heard, as well as the mingling of people out for the festival. A server came in a took drink orders, Seb handed his now empty glass to her, a small buzz already having formed he decided one more couldn’t hurt. This time ordering a summer solstice instead in a strange attempt to feel as though he could stave off the feelings of winter, even if only for a few moments.

He looked to the blonde to see if she were enjoying herself and remembered, again, that he’d yet to answer her questions. “So, what I do for work…” He moved a little closer and reached up to take his drink from the server, taking a slow sip, “well I do work with my hands, yes. I’m a blacksmith of sorts. Someday I’d like to create pieces that are world renown but for now I stick to working over in the back of Touch of Fire.” The other couple chatted in the corner as he looked over toward them, then glanced back to the woman. His arm lounged on the back of the seating area, “What do you do for work? Or should I say hobby? You don’t really seem like the type that would like to work,” he mentioned as he glanced down at her delicate hands. Leaning forward he set his drink onto the floor and grabbed her hand in his, studying her hand and fingers.

[Amelia]

The promise of fun was enough to earn a wary smile from behind Amelia – no Erin’s mask. Though she had some idea, the blonde wondered what exactly constituted as ‘fun’ by the couple’s definition. It felt equal parts risky and delicious to be in their company, to accept their invitation as if were an everyday thing.

But the suggestion of getting a private room was… unexpected. To Amelia, people in clubs and bars rented rooms for sordid affairs with men and women who swapped their company for a fee. Had she given the impression of being such a woman? Abashed, Amelia could only give a fleeting, timid smile before she was led away from the main area of the Obsidian Club and into a rather plain-looking room furnished with a sofa and a bed. The latter in particular held Amelia’s attention, until she heard the voice of her still unnamed companion.

He was a blacksmith, which was not a surprise to her and earned a pleased chuckle and grin from Amelia. As she had expected, he worked with his hands. But what did catch her unawares was his ambition. She had previously assumed that blacksmiths – in fact, all who worked in the field of manual labour – had little motivation beyond earning their keep and putting food on the table. She certainly didn’t expect his aspirations to align so closely to her own. Since she was a young girl, Amelia had dreamed that her own styles and designs might one day be worn by men and women across the land. She would be famous for her designs and cutting edge styles, making the world a more beautiful, fashionable place than it was currently. His admission of a similar goal made him all the more fascinating to Amelia, who now eyed him with keen interest.

Except now she had to keep up the pretence of being Erin. There was no way she could tell him the truth behind her profession lest he decide to track her down and realise she lied about her name. So instead, she offered another tale: “I’m a masseuse. The oils keep my hands soft and clean. It’s a blessing, really.” She laughed airily, trying to come across as cool and confident in the apparent truth of what she was saying. But of course, Amelia had never massaged anything or anyone before, instead always paying for such a luxury. “So, you never told me your name. Is that a normal thing, to invite women into private rooms without even introducing yourself?” She was all too aware of her hand clasped in his and, fearful that their sudden closeness would somehow make him recognise her lies, Amelia stepped away, placing herself delicately on the edge of the bed. “Do I even want to know what plans you for us in this room?” The question was bold, too bold for Amelia’s usually prim and proper self. ‘Erin’ had taken over, and the Gods only knew where she would lead Amelia.

[Zeva]

amelia

 

Misc

Please give me a nudge if you ever return and would like your grades

sebastian

 

Skills

Observation - 4XP
Endurance - 1XP
Blacksmithing - 1XP
Metalsmithing - 1XP
Painting - 1XP
Investigation - 2XP
Socialisation - 2XP
Leadership - 2XP
Seduction - 1XP

 

Lores

● Endurance: Dealing with a hangover
● Cheap booze: Not always the best choice
● Sebastian: Always eager for a party
● Lore of crafting a copper mask
● Sebastian: Metalworking is all he knows
● Blacksmithing: Hammering metal to make sure thickness is even
● Blacksmithing: Smoothing edges
● Metalsmithing: Hardening a piece of copper
● Metalsmithing: How to attach copper leafing to a mask
● Painting: Using a rag to apply a coat of paint to a surface
● Lore of Self: Taking pride in ones work
● Hand-crafted mask: Key to getting into the Azure Festival
● Thinking of ones father leads to a darkened mood
● Sebastian: Self-medicates with booze and drugs
● Location: Touch of Fire
● Location: Shinyama Peak
● Location: The Obsidian Club
● Investigation: Trying to figure out what ones companion is all about
● Sera and Michael: Drug dealers
● Leadership: Taking control of the course of the night
● Seduction: Making the first move

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