The Masquerade

"Hello Maahes," he said again. "And Vala Mal Doran. And thank you- you both seem like wonderful people yourselves." With a smile, he slung his arm around Boris, feeling a little pang at Vala's comment, since he was still actively denying any tainting of his image of Boris.

"And I can vouch for Boris here. He was just being selfless and protective of you all, though I don't agree with his methods much, either." With a look over at his brother, he tried to think of an honest representation of his character. "...he's definitely a person worth knowing."

Clearing his throat after a few beats, he eyed everyone else gathered, not wanting to exclude anyone. "As James is, and I'm sure the both of you are. I'd love to get to know you better."

"You're too kind, Damascus." I said quietly, before looking back to James' friends.

"Maahes and Miss Mal Doran, was it? Charmed. I'd also be very glad to get to know you, but I ah, wouldn't take it personally if you were to have some reservations."

Oh, there was some kind of reunion going on. Taber could pick up pieces of their conversation - brothers, knives, normal things like that. It sounded cheery enough that he wanted to join in, but he knew he didn't know a single person among them. As far as he could tell. Was there anyone he knew? Maybe Kartiel, but not directly. Still, perhaps he could -

"Go talk to Kartiel."

"Huh?" Taber said, looking back to Eremia. She was tapping her foot, finger on her chin.

"It might be worth having a conversation," Eremia said, looking to Kartiel and his blood-splattered clothes. "And that is more of your repertoire."

Taber didn't know what repertoire could possibly mean, but he understood the intent. "Okay!" he said, walking over to the blood-covered man. Since it didn't look like there were going to be any more murders, he felt Eremia would be safe enough.

"Hi!" Taber said, tapping Kartiel on the shoulder. "Can I ask you about that whole not-dying thing?"

Kartiel turned when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. His clothes still drenched in his own blood, he looked Taber over with curious blue eyes. "I don't see why not," Kartiel said.

James looked to Vala briefly, but made eye contact with Maahes.

"Boris is a good man - even if impulsive," he asserted, before looking to Boris. "And in any case, I'm glad to see you." His eyes flickered over the blood splattering Boris's suit. "You might just... want to clean up a little. At some point."

James had called me a good man. James, who had standards.

I was very grateful, of course, but I couldn't help but wonder if I'd accidentally appeased some diety of absurd luck recently.

"Aha," I said nervously, "That wouldn't be a bad idea. Has anyone seen a bathroom, of sorts?"

"Okay!" said Taber. See, Kartiel was already nicer than Aegeas had let on - he was willing to answer questions. "But yeah, how did you not die and stuff? That's pretty useful!"

Damscus glanced over and shook his head. He was relieved that he wouldn't have to look at the bloodstains much longer.

"No. I just got here. But, if you'd like, I could walk with you halfway to find one. I was going to get some of that punch." He eyed the refreshment table for a moment before perking up. "Oh! Or, if you'd rather not clean up, I could conjure another jacket for you."

"Oh, could you? I'd be terribly grateful, I don't think the stains are coming out of this one.

I'd also be delighted to accompany you, I could get you up to speed on the goings on. God willing, before anything else happens."

"Wonderful." Damascus smiled and glanced over at Boris' stained jacket, scrutinizing the style and size briefly before replacing his own blue jacket with one identical. With a bit of difficulty, since it was tight across his shoulders and biceps, he shrugged it off and handed it over.

"Try that on and let me know how it fits- the sizing may not be exact."

I'd seen Damascus use his powers before, shifting his form to imitate James when we were children, changing from a woman in a silvery dress to his current form, back in Wilson's bar. But he never did cease to astonish me.

"Oh yes, it's perfect! Thank you." I said, turning a little to get a feel for the coattails.
I realized something, and stopped in my tracks.

"...I feel as though I never mentioned that blue is a good colour for you, it goes so nicely with your eyes. Ha. Where is my mind tonight?"

I folded the bloodied jacket, wondered why I had bothered to do that, and promptly tossed it under the table as soon as we arrived.

"-and to summarize, we're up against godlike beings, our friends are all detectives, Rendra has no readily apparent objective other than the will of chaos, she is somehow able to tolerate Kartiel enough to be in leagues with him, and it is difficult to gauge just how much danger everyone really is in.

And the band, did she pay them, or were they merely transported from some concert or another party, and just decided that they felt like carrying on? That quandary has been bothering me this whole time."

Raiden shrugged.
"Either way, good music," he stated, before finishing up his juice box.

"-Good Christ, Raiden, are you just everywhere these days?" I said, startled.

Damascus listened intently as they approached the table while making a beeline for the punchbowl. After taking a few greedy gulps, he addressed the foremost thought on his mind.

"I wondered that as well. They did seem rather oblivious, but regaurdless, their playing is-" he paused as a young man in an elaborate pink gown appeared from seemilngly nowhere and finished his sentence for him. Taking another sip, he tugged at his ruffles and tipped his cup to awknowledge the boy. "Exactly that, yes."

He peered over at the ballroom floor, which was empty, and over to the band, who had been playing for goodness knew how long. Though he knew this was clearly not the most fitting situation for guests to be dancing, he wanted to give the band at least one dance, to show that their music wasn't being played without appreciation.

"I think I'll go ask the band to play some good dancing music- a waltz, maybe, or a folk song. Perhaps we need a break from murder, gods, and the like." He glanced over at Boris and the ball gown boy, "any requests?"

Spoiler

I'mma be historically innacurate and go with a 19th century polka, because 18th century dances are passionless and boring and I hate them.
Here's a video of a 19th century polka for reference.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWP7FlkE2k4

Attempted murder, I wanted to correct him, but thought better of it.

"I think a lively Viennese polka would be just the thing. Do you know how to dance that one? I can take the lead if you would like me to show you around."

I was aware that he had invited me to make a request, not dance with me to the said request, and that I was stretching his invitation. But Damascus had never been the shy sort, and I had the feeling he'd enjoy this sort of adventure.

I mean, on the off chance he had been to a masquerade before, this was most probably the only potentially life-threatening one he'd been to, so I was determined to show him a good time.