Disillusions of Grandeur

[rassafraggin]

The Foreign Central Intake Department of the Centralized Distribution Depot of the Hard Copy Wing of the Begman Ministry of Communication strives for efficiency and promptness in receiving, sorting, handling, and redirecting all the missives which shoot into their midst from nine hundred and ninety eight different pneumatic tubes coming up from the Grand Underground Pneumatic Tube Network's busy General Sorting Depot of the Centralized Distribution Depot of the ..... well, it just goes on in that manner endlessly, doesn't it. The mindboggling explanation may take weeks, but the messages themselves, ahhhh, mere days! So impressive how the schemes of one man sitting stalwartly in the study of his deep submersible untold fathoms and shadows distant, can become a perfectly transcribed foil-lined missive, sealed in a bronze scroll case, and make its way into the trusted Cartridge Carrier of the Ministry of Communications' Expatriate Services Branch's Telegram Unit, even whilst using undermonitored old sorting codes such as QQZ-doubledash-L3Q6, which invariably wind up on the desk of an unharried Mr. Persimmonsby in Foreign Central Intake, perpetually on the edge of full pension retirement. Oh I don't know though, he so often says, what's one more clandestine re-coding in the grand scheme of schemey things? And those rotten scamps do so need my services, don't they. From there, it's whizzaroo-bang-choochoo-spodunk and there's a shiny bronze case rolling out of the Iron Horse Railway car into the hands of Carcil City's official Postal Cartridge Depot at Carcil Station; from thence into your hands, Artifice Master D. Valentino-Bayle, Esquire, care of Carcil City, Begma, et cetera.

It was a day like any other in Carcil with Disillusion beginning the day with breakfast in the dining room of the hotel. But! There is mail! But of course there is mail! Disillusion Valentino is a prominant and renown Grand Master Artificer! His expertise is sought after both near *and* far! Still, first the mail will find him... Then again it may well be debtors. Or Anna May's father with that shotgun! Just the thought of it has Disillusion eying over the dining room carefully before entering to read and eat. Hopefully whatever he was about to read would have his ticket on out of this town! Perhaps literally, or he may well have to find some creative means out of this town. Again!

Between the foil press, a delicate film of paper made from kelp rather than wood pulp. It smells of sea salt and may in fact be edible. The message written upon it is neat and brief and bare of obvious identifiers. It reads:

With regards to your past offers to put my nautical likeness upon a certain line of vintage spirits, I must formally, insistently decline. It is perhaps untoward of me therefore to solicit your advice on a nautical engineering feat of some magnitude. You have been well-recommended by mutual associates, and on this basis do I offer a meeting to discuss the specifics. Should this missive find you well and able and willing to travel, you may seek contact with the Wave Dancer, whose fair likeness is shown on the enclosed picture card.

Housed within a larger piece of cardstock, is an elegant miniature painting of a cream-tinted brigantine at sea, with a focus on her deck rather than capturing the entirety of the masts and hull. While it wouldn't be clear due to the extra cardstock lining the back, an individual with passing familiarity with Pattern would recognize this as a work of trump art.

It is a bumpy ride, this letter, and a variety of emotions playing out about Disillusion's features as he works his way through it. Eyebrows perk at this promise of a picture of a wave dancer, surely some woman who is to meet him at port! Do they come from Sukho? Wouldn't that be something! Setting the letter down, he looks and finds... a ship. The two fingers holding it turn it over as he presses his lips to a straight line. The cardstock gets a feel from his fingers to judge the material and craftsmanship before turning it back over again. His eyes narrow, he holds it closer... and then they shoot wide! "Eureka!" A ticket out of here! Scooping up the various bits of the message, it's container, and the card, he scurries on up the stairs to his room to pack his trademark suitcase! Umbrellas? Check! Wardrobe? Check! Wines? Check! With that business completed, he withdraws this Trump and sets to staring at it with purpose. That's how this brand of heresy works, yes? Sure enough, a few turns of a cog later, he is materializing in a flash of rainbow on the deck of the Wave Dancer!

Holy Hannah, it's another passenger just helping himself through to that spot on the main deck where there's apparently a thinning in the fabric of the spatial continuum. The sailors on duty look at Disillusion with a general air of welcome and inquiry. They're used to friends of the Captains, not to mention the Captains themselves, just popping in whenever. As long as they're not actively wielding blades or fireballs, all is probably as it is meant to be.

Nothing to see here! Move along! Move along! Nimble fingers turn the Trump card end over end and as they all wiggle to flex, it seems to vanish in thin air. Had the well dressed Begman gentleman ever truly held it? His eyes roll about the deck, taking in his new surroundings as he begins to offer up a thousand-watt smile toward the nearest passing sailor. Lifting his hat, Disillusion greets, "Good day! Allow me to introduce myself, as if I should even need to." With a resounding snap of his fingers, Disi produces a calling card which he then offers up to this unfortunate soul he has latched onto. It reads: Prof. Disillusion Valentino -- GRAND Master Artificer! "Disillusion Valentino. I was wondering if you might be able to show me the way to the... *Captain*?" Extra emphasis is placed on this title, leaving off Merrisol's full name should it not yet be safe to use it aloud, but the addition of a sly wink is certain to convey to this sailor that Disillusion is in the know. Surely this will be enough!

Raphaela is on a barrel drinking a mojito. She watches Disi with utter dismay and attempts to slide away out of sight.

The targeted sailor, as well as those in the immediate area, take to gazing nonplussed at the flourishing playboy, and gathering around to read the calling card. S'not every day a guest goes out of his or her way to address the crew with so much genial vigour! And then... he refers to the Captain -- with a smarmy wink. The deck temperature drops a good ten degrees as they eyeball the strange Begman visitor with a protective glint. Yeah, the captain is a well-known beauty, and seadogs be seadogs, but you just don't go around winking like you know her, ~personal-like~!

"Captain's out.... Savin' civvies from an eruptin' volcano, since ye ask!" grunts the sailor, waving Disi to arm's length with the card.

Quinlan is up in the rigging, because it's pleasant up there, in the wind, and generally speaking the crew that're up there have Things To Do and are paying attention to those things, and all Quinlan has to do is be out of their way. The newcomer has his interested attention, but because he's a) Begman and b) unfamiliar, the mage lets other people handle introductions.

If there is one thing Disillusion can do, it's to read a room, especially when it comes down to a moment where he needs to save his own skin. This shift in tone about the crew doesn't go unnoticed, but he carries on, now double-taking as he looks over toward... Raphaela? With a mojito? Two blinks has him refocusing on more important matters. "Is he? A volcano? Hrm. Well. Do you know when he might be back? Should I... stay here or am I to meet him someplace?" The fellow waving him in gets another scan as Disillusion takes a wary step closer. "Ah, you'll take my bag and show me to my room?"

The rainbow sparkle of Trump travel shimmers a haze to the deck where Disillusion popped into existance. Hazy colors hinting at whatever odd landscapes are on the other shide shift and shimmer into being. Anyone who is going to be passed through will need to enter before Maggie herself crosses over.

Hrrmmm, when Disillusion specifies the 'he' and 'him'. Realization dawns like a rising, smiling sun. "Ohhh, Cap'n Merrisol. Yah, he's gone over to Sukho as well, er.. Professor Valentino, sir." They can forgive the sly wink as well, in that case. The sailor takes Disi's trunk with a nod. "Can't say when they'll be back..." he trails off as that particular area of the deck begins to spark with prismatic colours, wavering and shaping space...

...And Merri appears, stepping quickly aside for the one following. He holds an amount of wooden plate-looking things in his hand, and an equipment duffel over one shoulder. About him is a whiff of ozone and the scents of a different sea and wind and stormy turmoil, not of this sunny blue Amber afternoon upon the azure waves. The ex-pirate takes a moment to squint about, getting his bearings.

Quinlan doesn't bother with words, or shouting from the rigging. He helps Merri get his bearings by creating the illusion of a giant golden arrow radiating light and encircled by GUEST IS LOOKING FOR YOU in block capital letters. The arrow is, of course, pointing at Dis Illusion. No wait, that's one word, not two.

Ruby wants to get the heck out of the archipelago! She's getting a lift while she can, leaving her poor progeny to fend for himself in that tropical othertimes-paradise. Hopefully he's got some of that legendary sailing skill in full effect with the crew he's got left. Supposedly those Southern Fleet naval ships that assisted earlier have received orders as well, and hopefully their proximity was far enough from the epicenter of oh-no will give them enough time to get to minimum safe distance from gossip. Ruby steps out of the rainbow-conga-line provided by Maggie and also picks a space to get all her marbles back in the proper alignment. "Bloody 'ell."

Coming through last, Maggie blinks a few times as the rainbows collapse behind her. She is also carrying a few of the flat, wooden things. She glances back, sending a two fingered salute back through to Boaz with his crew, his ship and his priestess-excapee-refugee. Turning to take stock of the ship's deck, she spots Quinlan's garrish and obvious arrow and follows it to Disillusion Valentino. She arches a brow, mouth turning down slightly in distaste. Looking for Quinlan, she does manage to look up after failing to spot Raphaela in her hiing spot. Quinlan is given a wave before Maggie spots a sailor. "Ms. Jackson. What is Professor Valentino doing here?" The sailor salutes the arrivals but concentrates on Maggie. "Captain. Welcome back. He is looking for Captain Merrisol, ma'am." Hints of relief flicker through her gaze and she nods, "Thank you." The sailor rutns to go about her business and Maggie walks over to Merrisol. "You have company, darling." Extending a hand, she adds, "I can lock those in the safe for now, if you like." The gesture motions to his collection of wood. For the safe.

Disillusion snaps his fingers again to produce his pocketwatch, which he is in the midst of checking when the rainbows begin to shine on the deck, "Quite unfortunate. I always feel so terrible billing for things like th--" The reflection off the watch has his eyes widening as he snaps it shut and whirls about, drawing an umbrella out from under a pair of straps on his suitcase. He brandishes the thing generally toward the spot until he sees familiar faces coming on through. Playing off this snap reaction to heresy, he spins his umbrella about by the handle and then taps it on the deck as he stands upright to present himself. The power plant shunts everything it has toward his smile and his charm, though this arrow is a touch distracting. "Ah, Captain Merrisol. And my very favorite customer, Princess Ruby! Tell me, how has that fine Remote Audio Delivery for Immediate Oration device been working out for you and the Royal Navy? Shall I mark you down for another dozen or so? With the same enhanced service package and rust protection coating, of course?" Polished shoes are now taking steps toward the newly arrived group of Minosian Captains and the stops again as Maggie steps through. "Lady Morfilod, you are as enchanting as ever. It is wonderful to see you." He can't help himself. This arrow. The tip of his umbrella comes up and he waves it about at the thing, trying to see just what it is. An ear twitches as the word "safe" is said aloud.

The stranger has introduced himself, and Maggie at least has seen him; Quinlan seems to regard that as mission accomplished. While watching the man poke his umbrella through the golden arrow is funny, there are more important things to see to; a flick of his fingers banishes the illusion, and the mage finds himself a comfortable seat on a beam (out of the way of the sailors in the rigging) to watch events unfold. Or unfurl; that umbrella's getting a lot of use for a clear day.

At first Merrisol is equally confused, then he remembers, "I posted a letter to Lord Bayle... included trump of the Dancer." Perhaps... that wasn't the best idea? Also strange how he's got all those names and titles in exchangable use... sort of like that cartoon hobo dog going around to different restaurants for a free meal every day of the week! "Apologies, my love. I'll get it back from him," he assures Maggie, though the idea already conjures visions of an endless game of Cardsharp Keep-away. He looks for a moment at the fading trump glimmer, then inclines his head in greeting to the Master Artificer's approach, gazing at him with level tolerance as the flirting with Maggie commences -- which surely confuses at least a few sailors again with his evident fickleness.

"Alright.. okay," Merri speaks up above the whimsy of both umbrella and glitter glamour, "Valentino.. your timing is uncanny as usual, just give me a moment..." Finally, he addresses Maggie's expectant gesture for the masks with a halfway-giving gesture back, then a pause. "Wait.. why into the safe, Hotstuff? Aren't these what was indicated as lost by that entity, in the Dream? Should we not... ah... investigate them, particularly if the Consortium's behind that island's grief?"

Ruby rubs the side of her temples and turns, blinking rapidly at the fact that Disillusion is on deck. "Whut?" Switching gears she's veering towards the R.A.D.I.O. and whatnot. "Worked more than well. Even when ships were goin down an their Operators dead, they still managed tah...I moight 'ave...whatsit...a re-view on 'em I could share when you gots a few moments, aye. Worked overly-well." she enunciates carefully. "Not complainin moind you. Nuh-uh. If it ever gets navy approval...moight need upgraded filter or kill-switch. Maybe I didn't 'ave tha roight op-or-orators..."

Maggie tilts her head toward Disillusion. His overly effusive greeting wins him a very faint smile without even the faintest hint of warmth, "Professor. Welcome aboard." Hearing that her husband sent a card of her ship to this miscreant? The look she favors her beloved husband with holds traces of resignation and irritation though she keeps her tone civi, "Please, darling. Unless you can defend his having one more perminantly. Later." Hefting the masks she holds, she looks down at them, her free hand taking one to turn it this way, then that. "Hmmm. Good point. However, I would still like to put any that we are not studying away in stasis until we need them either for analysis or..." SHe frowns again, "Or... Until we need them." It is a lame way to end that with its fading verbiage and repetition. But it is what it is.

Gone! If only he'd thought to get the Heresensor out, Disillusion could have captured some readings on this particular brand of heresy. If only! The loss of potential data is a tragic one, but the Begman is easily distracted and consoled by the presence of these women on deck. As Merrisol addresses him, he snaps back from these thoughts and nods agreably toward him, "Certainly, certainly." Perking back up, he nods more enthusiastically toward the Princess, "I had told you it would! SCIENCE can solve any problem! Any problem! Hmm. You should have some feedback and comment forms in the back of the operations manual that each unit came with. Remember that when you fill them out to keep the *pink* copy for your own records. Upgrades and additions we can do!" Pink! The bottom copy! Who can ever read that one?! Why, it would take someone of incalculable strength to be able to print legibly through to that bottom sheet! The Begman Playboy has had the good sense to focus elsewhere while the Lady and Lord Morfilod work their way through their marital troubles. It was inevitable! He knew it all along! The talk of the masks, on the other hand, draws his curiosity as he sneaks some glances toward them. What might their value be on the open market? "Study? Ah, I see. Is this what you would like to apply the Scientific Method to?" Snapping his fingers once more, he produces a multi-lensed jeweler's loupe from thin air and sets to looking through it toward one of the held masks. "Porter, be a good lad and bring me my bag." The sea servants here are basically the same as those at the Broadstreet, yes?

The sailor holding Disillusion's trunk frowns just a little at the fellow making the request. Looking from the guest to their Captain, he also reads the room. Shrugging, he tips his cap and sets the case down, "There you are, sir." The case is not brought, but it is relinquished. "Let someone know when y'be wantin' yer room an' we'll show you th' way." He salutes to the various Captains and that Admiral yonder, seeing as they are still roughly in the same location and all. Wishing to be helpful, he does nudge the case closer to Disi before turning smartly to head back to his own duties. Although the crew will pay attention and see how Merrisol treats the guest, they recognize Captain Flame's disapproval and will be cautiously polite and helpful in a more limited capacity.

Raphaela returns, probably after securing her own items in a safe spot, bringing a tray of mojitos deckwards. "Fancy seeing yu here. Quinlan, can we have some iceish mush, if you would?" she offers a brilliant smile, hopoefully iceslushworthy.
Raphaela acks as she sees Quin is busy. "Warm mojitos it is."

Merri frowns thoughtfully while Maggie reiterates her desire concerning the artifacts. He hesitantly hands her the masks except for one, saying, "Run them by Quinlan first, perhaps.." - yeah-yeah, he remembers Quin isn't a go-to source anymore for all knowledge and wisdom, but old habits do die hard - "..In case they aren't all the same brand of horror." He wags the one withheld, adding, "I'll be careful with this... promise." To his fellow Begman he says, "You may not have need of a cabin here tonight, Valentino, depending on the outcome of our talk." Nodding greetings to the others present, he declines drinks and moves away to the stern to stow his kit and speak to Disillusion once he's ready.

Ruby dips her chin low as she eyes Valentino and his suggestion for the suggestion forms. Her mouth makes a tight hole to breath through as she considers. "Tha units tha didn't goo tah tha bottom, they sorta...don't 'ave their manuals no more. Some 'o tha sailors thought there were spirits trapped behind tha grills. Some thought they carried a bit 'o tha curse of Jonah. An some...~stole~ tha bloody things because they convinced they thought their drowned friends could still talk tah them through them...still." Ruby swallows. "Don't goo spreadin around tha stuff though, cause it just gossip an tall tales in bad taverns. There ain't a lick 'o truth in any 'o it, Truth. More trainin needed is all, probably. An famili-arity. Probably." Ruby gnaws on her bottom lip. "If I 'ad tha toime...maybe try an salvage tha sunk ones, but...Cibola maybe should keep what it got. I not take a bone from tha mouth 'o a woof or sammich from beak 'o a birb."

Disillusion staggers back as he hears of what has befallen the creation just as mighty and important as the machine itself... it's documentation! The mouth sweats start coming on, the world is spinning, and he can hardly hear anything over the pounding in his chest. Through it all, there is a sudden ray of sunshine breaking down and casting light upon the angelic form of Raphaela! And her tray of mojitos. He reaches out to scoop one up frantically, tipping it up, and downs it in a quick go. When one can't immediately apply Science to a problem, Alcohol is always there to help save the day! Disillusion finds his center again and straightens back to a proper posture befitting a gentleman such as himself. He dips his head in a thankful bow toward the Baroness before resuming, "Right. The horrors of war. Well. We should scramble the channel on the remaining units as priority one. Then we should certainly talk about upgrades and replacements, of course!" In the midst of this, his attention keeps dipping over to Merrisol and he sets to nodding agreement and understanding. "Efficiency! Yes, I wholly support this. I will be right along!"

Raphaela watches Disi with a blank face, keeping tray there if he needs another before facing the captain Merrisol. Is it her way of wishing good luck? Is it poisoned? When he heads off with or withut, she places tray on a barrel and finds a perch out of the way to draw. Probably masks with Ruby's notes which should not be shared!

Maggie accepts the masks from Merrisol, nodding slowly, "Alright." Her frown has remained, however and she darts a glance between Disi and Merrisol before her spouse heads off to have a semi-private chat withe the Begman Charleta... Er... Master Artificer. Turning slowly around the deck, she nods to Ruby, then Raphaela catches her attention. Pausing, she moves to the woman's side. "I am going down to the safe. I would like you to renew the salt ward on it when you have time."

Raphaela doesn't even question it. "Whole point is that they last, you know." she grins and looks after Disi. "Of course. May I draw them in payment?" she waggles brows.

Maggie shrugs, "Sure? I don't see why not. Though I am going to do a magical analysis of these before putting them away. You're welcome to come with me, if you wish. Or, stay up here and draw..." She tries not to peek at Raphaela's sketchpad. But she can't... quite... manage it. "Whatever it is you are drawing." Smiling up at her friend, she turns to head down to the lower deck, tossing off a quick, "Join me when you are ready, Raph. Please."

Safe! Disillusion's ear twitches again as he hears the word and he can't help where his thoughts go, hatching a whole scheme for how to get there. Step one, get the Baroness blitzed enough that she can't renew the wards for a day or so. Step two, appropriate some garb from one of the sea stewards. Step three, burgle. Finally, lay all the blame on some random crew member to build up a fallguy. Flawless! Surely it would work!

But, no. It may well put TWO business arrangements in jeopardy. The Scientific side of his brain stamped out the last dying embers of the caper. All business now, he doesn't even latch onto these obvious invitations from Lady Mofilod for him to join her to "study the mask" in private. No, no! Stay focused, Disi! Taking up another mojito, he lifts it and downs it mechanically, this time reacting with shock and a bit of disgust at it being warm. The glass gets a second look, then there is betrayal in his eyes as he looks to Raphaela while setting it back down. His angel was a devil all along! How typical! "Well, I shouldn't be leaving the good Captain Merrisol waiting too long!" Scooping up his suitcase, he walks swiftly on in the direction the brutish fellow had gone earlier.

Merrisol looks up from his work at a table temporarily weighted to the deck, in the shadow of the raised deck to aft. The various guests on board have made use of this area for their crafting, drinks-mixing, or study; there's probably random items left behind and shuffled to one side, forming a curious unclaimed Lost-and-Found collection. At the moment, the non-descript carved mask, flat and smooth and expressionless like all the rest, is front and center the object of study. He's sitting there peering through the eyes and mouth holes from a half-foot distance, and then applying degrees of pressure in a bendy manner. Hmm, it's tough but not inflexible, therefore possibly breakable? He writes a note in his leather journal.

A couple of fold-out chairs are tucked across from Merri, and one summarily skates back from a nudge, offered to Disi as the man approaches. "Lord Disillusion.. Thank you for coming over, first of all. And now, I'll need to have that trump card back. It was a means to facilitate the face-to-face, that is all. If we end up continuing in a partnership, there'll be the possibility of other cards, however."

Disillusion steps in, surveying the table of random knick-knacks for a place to leave his hat. With the brim of it, he slides a few tools aside and sets it down in the newly vacated space.

Melina emerges from her quarters to spy captain flame entering into hers and heads that direction

Maggie enters the cabin that she shares with Merrisol and is about to close the door when she spots Melina. She pauses, pushing the door wider. "Hello, Lady Melina. I hope that the cabin is to your liking? Or at least adequate?"

Melina hms "the cabin is quite nice captain thank. I see you have our..erm recent acquisitions. Do you mind if I come in?"

Maggie steps back from the door, holding it open. "Please do." The room is divided into an office space with a desk, chair and shelves that have been built into the walls. The other half is cut off from view by thick curtains. "I thought that I should lock them up for now. But. I want to take a look at them magically first. When Quinlan is available, I will ask him to look as well." She pauses, then tilts her head to one side, "Your insight would be valuable as well. If you have the time?"

Melina nods and follows after "Of course, though I firmly agree with locking them up when said assessment is complete..is that all of them?"

Maggie closes the door and moves across to the desk. Setting them down, she lifts a bowl of beautifully colored coral in salt water from the desk. Moving with care, she sets the bowl safely out of the way. As she does, one hand gently carresses the smoothness of the container and a soft smile touches her lips. Then, the moment passes and she returns to the desk, "No... Kerf kept one to analyze. But he suggested that they might not all be the same. I want to see what we can figure out before locking them in stasis. I did leave word above for Quinlan to join us when he is free. It would be good to have him look at them too."

Melina blinks at the news that Merrisol retained a mask, a look of genuine surprise crossing her features though she refrains from comment "yes, let's see what we can learn " she says, looking at the artifacts in question reaching out both physical and magical senses

Maggie carefully arranges the masks so that they are each visible without overlap. Then she steps back for a moment to give Melina room to work. Crossing her arms, she leans against a bookshelf and watches for a moment. Then, taking a moment and a breath to center herself, she sniffs, seeking to seperate the normal, ocean and cabin smells from whatever her heritage and learning can tell her about the magic of the masks.

RPG: Maggie declares that she has the Blood of Pathi (BLD-PA) gift.
RPG: Maggie declares that she has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.
RPG: Maggie declares that she has the Intuit Power (PAT-IP) gift.
RPG: Maggie declares that she has the Analyze Magic (MAG-AM) gift.
RPG: Maggie declares that she has the Analyze Power (MAG-AP) gift.

RPG: Melina declares that she has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.
RPG: Melina declares that she has the Analyze Magic (MAG-AM) gift.

Melina hms "well it's magic but dormant in as far as I can tell. "How would wear such a thing without straps. not that i volunteer mind

Maggie nods to Melina, her froen aimed at the masks, "Agreed. But, at least there is no chaos to them. No pattern, either. But... I can't really tell anything else about the magic." Pushing off of the shelf, she walks back to the desk and picks up one of the masks. Turning it over, she gestures to the shiny side, "I think that this bonds to the skin of whomever, or whatever wears it, holding it on. I don't know if we told you, but the child in the Dreaming had a dog that put one on by sticking his nose into this stuff. He turned inside out. Sort of. The space where his face should have been was... Hmmm. How to describe it..." She sets the mask down again, then rests her hip against the desk. "The girl said that the dog had a void or a doorway for a face. I did not see the poor thing, and I know that Dreams are not to be trusted. But, we need to be very careful about how we use these things."

Maggie frowns for a moment, then quickly gathers the masks up, "I'm going to put these in a safe place until we are ready to look at them again." Once she is alone again, she locks the cabin door and puts the masks away in a safe hidden in an altogether not at all obvious place. Then, leaving the cabin, she locks the door and heads back out on deck to look for Merrisol. Merrisol and the Mask. There is an urgency about her movements and she asks the first sailor she finds to let Captain Merrisol know that she is looking for him.

The Begmano-a-Begmano is just taking place on the deck at the quartermaster's table, so they are fairly exposed and noticeable due to the various cardsharp antics, Begman device clattering, and intense Merri-ing.

As word spreads that Flame is seeking Merrisol, several sailors point toward the quartermaster's table. Maggie nods, thanking those who contribute to her search. Turning that way, she walks with resolute steps until she gets near enough to be noticed. "Pardon me. Is this private, or can I join in?"

Although they are technically to be found out in the open, and at a publicly-accessible table at that, Merrisol's and Disillusion's dealings back and forth have developed a curious sort of air buffer around them that no sailor ventured to cross. There's a longish verbal exchange, therefore, of which nobody really heard enough, and the moving around of objects from hand to hand that no one can be certain the whats and whys, to build a reliable narrative. Of course, the Maggie is the ship's Captain and can be relied upon to pierce the veil of obfuscation, and with a simple query. Merrisol looks up with a welcoming nod to his spouse. He holds the wood-carved mask firmly in one hand beside an open box containing a spool of paper, upon which needles are busily crackling. His other hand is flat upon the table in front of him, while he has been leaning in a bit to speak with Disillusion. "What is it, Captain.. have you found anything useful about the masks?"

Melina wanders up from below slowly, blinking at Disillusions sudden presence.the comings and goings on the ship as varied as the number of salon's in the palace just randomly appearing. she watches from a distance, particularly the mechanical writer or whatever its doing

Maggie's smile lights up when Merrisol turns her way. The glow fades as she takes in the clackity machine, fading entirely when she takes in Disillusion. Looking back to her husband, she shrugs, "Quinlan should look at them. I could not discern much. They are not chaos, nor are they pattern. If there is an enchantment or anything woven into them, I could not find it. They could be the kind that can only be seen if active. But, I would like Quin's opinion anyway before I say for sure." Her attention again falls to the device making all the noise, "What is that?"

"Wine! We need wine!" Disillusion is up and out of his seat as Maggie approaches and, as a proper gentleman ought, he dips in a crisp sort of bow toward her. "Captain, how wonderful to have you join us on such an auspicious occasion! Would you do me the extreme privilege of allowing me to select a wine for you to mark out new union? Why, we shall be seeing so much more of each other now!" Taking his typewriter from the table, he deposits it back in his case and comes back with a bottle, which he reads studiously. "Hmmm? Oh, that is the Heresensor. It detects heretical magics." Leaning forward, he flips the switch to deactivate the internal steam engine, ending the puttering, the crackling, the scrolling paper, and the bouncing needles.

Merri sits back, already outgentlemanned by Disi, and rises more slowly from his seat. He lifts his hand in a palming motion and checks that it is indeed the returned trump card in his possession, and not, say, a decoy banana. Some relief, as he tucks it into his hip pocket with a quiet nod to Maggie. Spotting Melina a bit further away, inclines his head as if to invite her closer now that the business dealings are for now at an end. There's a thin triplicate layer of wafer sheets on the desk that he now gently folds over and picks up as well. "There must not be so much difference between your powers of magical analysis by this point," he muses aside in the midst of the flourishing of the wine bottle and presumptive toast-making. "As far as I could tell, they had not done lasting harm to the crustaceans, although you did sense the magic was active then, correct?" Frowning, he lifts the mask once more to examine the inner curves and the very faint shimmer. "Those faces..."

Ruby rises from belowdecks after a thorough scrubbing and Anakin-ing about Sukho's beaches to herself. The poor towel that has served with distinction is hung around her neck like a mule's yoke, and she collects the ends into her fists. The pow-wow going on draws a skeptical look.

Melina draws near with a smile on her face , taking stock of the emotional temperature at the table "Lord Valentine. it's been some time. To what is the pleasure owed?"

Maggie blinks a few times at Disi, but nods appreciation for his rising, "If you like." Though she looks aggrieved at the notion that they will be seeing more of the man. Turning a slow look to her husband while Disi goes for the wine, she catches the nod with the palming gesture and twitches him a smile even with the notion of more Disi-ness in her life. "What have we agreed to, darling?" The question is low, though not a whisper. "Or is this SF business?" The bottle provided is given a quick glance and a nod, "If you like it, Lord Valentino, I am sure that it is an excellent choice." Polite. He is offered a faint smile before she looks back at Merrisol. She blinks, then shrugs, "There was a lot of magic around the beach then. Unfortunately, I am not as automatic with my grandfather's senses as I am with father's. I did not take the time to consciously notice. I am sorry." She looks chagrined and irritated with herself.

Miriam has been kind of coming and going while others have done more interesting things. She does feel an obligation to spend some of her time in Rebma, after all. She's come again to the ship though, and after changing into her sun dress comes up onto the deck to see who is around. The familiar faces will get a smile from her. She seems fairly recovered from the unpleasant matters along the Begma path, but it's possible she already sees terrible things regularly.

Looking back to the bottle, Disillusion considers it again before giving a final nod of approval. "Yes, this was a good year." With Lady Melina approaching, the Begman Playboy looks back up and diverts more power to his thousand-watt smile. Answering both the blonde and the redhead at once, he replies, "The greatest weapon of all is to be brought to bear on Rebma's foes in this terrible, terrible war. SCIENCE!" Being the perfect moment, he produces a gas-powered cork removing device with a snap of his finger and pops the cork on out! "Why, I wrote to Lord Merrisol for some time now, pleading with him to see the light and he has finally relented! A most secret project is to be undertaken which will surely reshape the conflict as we know it." The cork is presented to Captain Maggie and then he moves on to pouring into the very best glasses that the quartermaster table can muster. Not the best, but surely the wine will shine no matter the vessel. Such is the quality of House Bayle! With two glasses in hand, he presents the first one to Melina, "I would tell you more, but I am afraid we in the military are bound to a strict code. It will be dangerous, of course. I just try to think of the children this may save. Those poor children."

Sometimes some of the blather that leaves someone's piehole is just too impassioned and too out of touch for Merrisol to put in the effort to contradict. He gives a helpless shrug. It's WAR. And also, SCIENCE. All the rest is just.. pillow talk, baby! "Hm. Thought that was what led you to that area of the beach.." he's saying to Maggie with a small frown. "Well, once we have assembled the data, we should see to some careful experimentation next... Ah." He sees Miriam coming nearer and nods a friendly, preoccupied greeting..... then sighs a bit.... then turns to gesture Disillusion's attention away from passing around the wine glasses for the now. "Miriam.. may I present Lord Disillusion Valentino of House Bayle, a Begman.. Grandmaster.. Artificer. Professor, this is Princess Miriam of Tir, and Princess Consort to Prince Martin of Rebma." He steps back a pace as though to dodge the flash burns from the Begman Playboy's grin wattage, and says more quietly to Maggie, "It's for the SF.. bit of a hairy project I've been looking to gather technical minds to ponder."

Maggie shakes her head slowly to Merrisol, her embarassment growing, "Uh. No. It was the similarity to the Dream landscape and the fear that someone was buried alive." She shudders, "Not... rational thought, I fear. Sorry, love." Turning, she smiles for Melina, then for Miriam as the two come closer. Though she does listen to Disillusion's explaination, it is not her specialty so she gives Merrisol's comments more credance, "Hmmm. I see. Well, good luck with the project, love. Ruby has been saying that the Flare should have some kind of weapon for years. I just..." She pauses as she is presented with the cork, "Oh. Uh. Thanks?" Lifting it, she cautiously sniffs the thing to test the scent and, casually, see if there is magic in the brew. Listening as Merrisol takes the introductions duty, she allows her relief to show when she smiles his way. Mouthing a 'thanks' to him, she also steps out of the way of Disillusion's dangerous smile. "Testing... Ugh... Oh, I agree that we need to, but did I mention what happened in the Dreaming with them?" The shudder returns though it is sort of suppressed.

When she is immediately pulled into whatever is going on, Miriam smiles to the group, and the newcomer in particular. It doesn't seem as though she was paying attention to all the talking he was doing when she first appeared, but she looks entirely attentive now. "It's very nice to meet you, Lord Disillusion." she says, when introduced, then seems curious at what she's missed. "Did I miss interesting things? Is there anything that I should be doing?" she offers easily to the others.

Is there a tear forming in the corner of Disillusion's eye? A slight glisten there? For the poor children of Rebma? So poor! Huddled together, clutching their toy... Do they have toys? What kind would they have down there? Nevermind, they must be too poor for toys! In the back of his mind, Disi makes a note to develop the first underwater toy. For the children('s money). "Worry not for me, Captain Margaret, as luck will have nothing to do with it." Yes, she was surely speaking to him, again! There could be no other! "For I am armed... with SCIENCE! Wait. No armament at all?!" A science vessel. In wartime! What had he done?! He's too young to die! Too brilliant! There's so much to do! Things to invent! Girls to kiss! Things he wants! Eyes flick back to the paperwork in Merrisol's hand, unsigned, and he plots a quick heist, but then quickly scraps the whole thing. No, he can pull this off! Introductions happen at the perfect moment as he hands off one glass and then presents the next with a bow to Miriam. True to form, his lips part and teeth are shown in a dazzling smile that he levels upon the Princess. His free hand reaches up to the side, snaps at a volume that shouldn't quite be possible, and he produces a calling card out of thin air to hand over with the drink. Doctor Disillusion Valentino - GRANDMASTER Artificer. A modest upgrade on the fly. "So wonderful to make your acquaintence, Princess. I assure you that all of the interesting things are still yet to occur this evening and the only thing we ought to do is to enjoy a glass of wine. If there is anything, anything at all, that I might be able to do for you, or the many people of Tir and Rebma, I am at your *personal* service." The Begman's smile broadens as he reminds himself that none of these introductions count toward payment, due to the unsigned and unstamped nature of the paperwork.

RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the Silver-Tongued (PPL-ST) gift.
RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the Begman Playboy (STY-BP) gift.
RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the What's Yours is Mine (PAS-YM) gift.
RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the Card Shark (SKL-CS) gift.

Raphaela watches, perching somewhere where she can observe the deck. Probably up in the rigging again, out of the way of decent working folk. She's sketching. Probably. Has a notebook out and all.

Melina blinks, taking the champagne and setting it carefully down . She hasn't had a sip and she's already got a spinning head "I confess I haven't been following the conflict in Rebma. Is the consortium inself in evidence there or have they set the match to local hostilities to meet their ends"

Ruby has sidled closer with this talk of war, her legs unsubtle agency in delivering her. She's not stealthy at all. "Flare should 'ave some koind 'o weapon for years." Ruby parrots Maggie, though in her own gooble-garble. "Seems tha Consortium gots ways tah wiggle in 'ere an there. Whatever, whoever tha aggressors were tha appeared on tha outskirts 'o Ygrayne, they weren't friendly."

Merrisol thinks about Maggie's question for a few seconds. "That.. ah, they purportedly belong to Simone the little girl, who is very likely not a little girl at all," he notes as he summarizes in his own words, "and she put a mask on before the thing she called her father could wake in Dream.. or perhaps in the Real. I'm not quite clear on a lot of the circumstances there." He hmms, watching the pleasantries between Disi and Miriam for only a moment. "I wonder if the masks are a sort of protection? Or.. a disguise. Or both." Distracted by Melina's question as well as Ruby's supporting remarks on the subject of War, he pauses, looking at them. "Yes, we don't know for certain, but most societies are not naturally equipped for undersea exploits.. the same might be said about the core movers in this Consortium. They have shown themselves adept at turning the residents of neutral shadows against enemies, that, or hiding behind them like shields... We suspect that is what is happening in a few seas beyond Rebma's influence into shadow. That makes it a very sensitive matter of rooting through the neighbouring shadow seas without doing further political damage."

Sometimes it takes a while for things said to register. Maggie parses something and gives her husband a long look. It ends in a bit of a blush and she looks down with a faint smile, then away. Stealing another glance at Merrisol, eyes shimmering, he gets a slightly goofy smile before she recenters and starts paying attention to wine and glasses and Disi, "It is Captain Flame while on the ship, please." Though her tone is neutral when speaking to the Playboy, she does not sound angry about it. Just firm. She fades a bit toward Merrisol to give Ruby room to join them. Listening, she nods to each in turn, but refocuses on Merrisol, "Well... She did. Simone, I mean. SHe did put the mask on." Her tone turns thoughtful, "So. I wonder if the masks react to something in the wearer. In the Dreaming, the dog supposedly turned inside out and its face was a portal, or something. Simone said to beware the faceless, inside out dog, I think. But the mask she put on did not have that effect. As for whether she is a child or not? Yeah, who knows? Isn't that how Dreaming works? You have an avatar of yourself, but you can control how it shows up? Or is that just for lucid dreamers?"

Raphaela says "Masks are masks, but I suppose you can go very metaphysical about it, function remains. Hiding a face, pretending to have another one." she eats a cookie. "My shape is affected by dreamer whose domain I am in sometime. I'm not lucid dreamer, though." she shrugs. Or maybe she just lacks imagination. or real raph is in fact a Sigma. Or that bunny.

Melina hms "the trick with consortium is finding the true enemy "Many of their forces have been duped, manipulated and downright coerced into this, much as amber has done in its past. i don't want the death of eit of victims or innocents on either side and fear being a party to the very behavior i decry. the trick is exposing the duplicity, short of finding the head of the monster and cutting it

Miriam looks... like she's not quite sure how to react to the Bayle. It's possible that some part of all those things going on rapid-fire in the man's head are somehow reflecting on his face or in some more ethereal manner and the seer looks a little overwhelmed trying to process it. She accepts the glass and the card, blinking a few times and her head tilting just slightly to one side, then she finally says "Thank you. Yes, I could use some wine." There's a brief flicker about to the others, perhaps looking for some assurance that it's not just her, then she looks back at Disillusion. Then tastes the wine before saying "That's a very kind offer. I'll keep it in mind. For now, I think the people of Tir are mostly on their own, of course."

As ever, the card shark is like a duck; all smooth and smiles above the surface of the water and below... his mind is like the internal workings of a full steam engine running at full. "Excellent. Of course, of course. So very true." Playing it off, Disillusion gives a very serious nod of agreement with Miriam's words. He has absolutely no knowledge at all of the people of Tir. Or really of Rebma. Back to the table he goes, gathering up more glasses to continue distributing. "My humblest apologies, Captain Flame. Please accept this peace offering." Finally, he has one for Admiral Ruby and his own glass as well, which gets tipped up for an appraising sip. With mouth open, he is sucking in air to infuse quite loudly, it gets a swish about the mouth, and then another round of air-infusion with lips all a-duck before he finally swallows. Yes, perfection! A wonderful bubbly Bayle red! Wait a second... He checks the bottle's label again and finds that it peels off to reveal another underneath. Oh dear. "Yes, the dreaded Consortium. Most foul." Pressing his lips into a line, he taps a finger on his chin before taking in the remainder of his glass and then producing a pad of paper and a small pencil out of thin air to scribble away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------[ G1N ]----
Author: Disillusion Held By: Disillusion
Date: Wed Jan 9 21:44:43 2019 Focus: 3
Tags: wine
Title: Bayle Special Reserve: Charisma!
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Created via The Bayle Passion (PAS-BA): bonus-token special token-0 token-3

Token Description
From the very moment the cork is popped, this wine aims to please and grabs attention with a magnetic presence. It is the rare sparkling red wine that dares to say such a thing can be done and done well! An unusual blend of grapes come together to create an intoxicating base of savory earthiness, tempered with tart raspberry. A variety of aromas dance out of the glass and draw one in, seeming to be different to each person who samples it. Is there smoke? Is that fruit? Do I detect something floral? Keep sampling and let's find out. One more sip and I'll have it! Before one even knows it, they have fallen head over heels through an entire bottle!

(OOC Note: Drink during or before the need for greater Charisma to aid in social endeavors and likability! Yes, these bubbles *will* go straight to your head and those around you!)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ruby accepts the glass. If she's noticed the label(s) issue, she's not reacting to it. Probably escaped her notice as she's busy peering into the glass, rather than where it came from. "I thought we 'ad chopped oof a 'ead back 'ome...an another in Cibola's path. At least a limb or somethin. All them sunk an slain should count for somethin I thought. They gonna force me 'and with tha need tah start pullin more 'elp from further a-far. Navy be large an powerful, but it ain't limitless. Navy be lucky I used mostly me own ships." She slurps, slorping momentarily into a faux pas of rememberance before quickly coming back to the fore. "Bloody 'ell, some 'o tha folks ~'ere~ sacrificed enough tah 'elp repel, resist an ravage 'em with their own ships an peoples. Weren't no big reward given after tha neither. Weren't one 'eroes parade. Hrrrnnnn..." She slurps and narrows her eyes, thinking. Thinking and thinking.

Merri doesn't have a hand free to be partaking in the celebratory vintage, one still gripping a mysterious mask and the other closed on a mysterious contract. He nods pensively as Miriam brings up the subject of the city in the sky, and the stalled mission to sort out its unique woes. The more recent and ongoing dilemma begins to take over the discussion, as it does, but he takes another step back to lean against the wall beside the stairwell, crossing his arms casually while addressing Maggie. "Well, I would think for most dreamers they have enough agency to appear as they wish, or their subconscious dictates, at any rate. Guides and Walkers would seem to have more conscious control, enough to draw others to her doorstep in a manner of speaking. I wonder if we.. that is.. you could find her again, with their help. Perhaps she could tell you more about these things.. for if they are protections or disguises, they would come in handy for what we have been planning." He lifts the mask, waggling it. It's almost carelessly close to his own face, but he knows what he's doing... right? "Then again.. if she is as powerful and sinister as she seems, we may be better off keeping the finding of her tools to ourselves."

Maggie accepts the apology and the glass with a gracious smile, "Thank you, Lord Valentino." She does not take a sip yet, though she listens to the swirl of conversation around the table as conversations shift and blend and mutate right there! Her gaze touches each in turn, and she adds a helpful, if silent nod of encouragement or agreement or gentle remorse as the topic requires. Ruby's discussion of the Cibola node is met with veiled regret and sorrow for the lives lost. She looks away, then lifts her attention to Merrisol with a grateful smile. A topic without immediate pangs of guilt. Curiosity is not the same thing! Moving closer to him, she eyes the mask, then her mate, "Mmm. I would not mind seeking her and asking a few questions. I think that I could without letting on that we have some. Having their help would be a very good idea. We could try tonight, if you think they would be up for it." Lifting her glass, she inhales, startles at the scents rising from the liquid. Moving more slowly, she tries again, the inhallation very deliberate this time.

Melina hms "I think your confusing sinister abd dangerous. she's the latter as she's a child as far as her kind is concerned who has the impulse of a child and more magic at her disposal than all of us put together. a dog snapped when she went to pet and it would up headless. what are the odds that we catch papa napping a second time and i'm not sure she fully understands what this is all about. it's worth a try but..

Ruby frowns, uncertain of exactly who this dream person is. She stays mostly silent and contemplative while theories are bandied back and forth. Dreamlands is weird territory for sure.

It seems that Miriam is a little lost on the subject of the Consortium and masks. So, she simply listens and enjoys her wine. The card offered her is tucked away in case of future need, and she finds herself a seat. She does look interested, and just takes things in for now.

Scribble scribble scribble. Disillusion snaps the fingers on his hand with the pencil and that instrument disappears, freeing his nimble digits to tear a sheet out of his notepad. A snap of those fingers and they are then freed so the whole lot may work in unison to fold the note in half. Moving over closer to Maggie, he holds out the paper to pass it off to her. "Lady-- Erm. Captain Flame. Would it be too much trouble to send to the Bayle Townhouse in Amber for these things? Just two or three more suitcases of most necessary supplies for the efforts to come. Tools. Wine. My journals. And... Well, I truly hate to do it, but should the Solar Flare enter a... disagreement, I should like to see her carrying the very best tool to settle it. Logic." The look about his features is as grave as his tone. With one hand, he places the note into hers while the other clasps the other side, each of them giving hers a squeeze to reinforce it all before he releases and moves back to his case. The Heresensor is tucked back away in his suitcase, the case gets locked up, and with it in hand, he rights himself and begins to look for one of the sea servants. "If you all might excuse me, I have had a most long and harrowing journey today, so shall retire for the evening. It was wonderful to see you all and, please, help yourself to the remainder of the wine." The gentleman takes up his hat to settle neatly upon his head and begins to wander in the direction of the stairs below. "You there! Say, might you show the way to my bed this evening? A good one, hmmm? Say, you don't happen to know of a good cardgame tonight, do you? That is, if you don't mind me learning a bit as we go?" Down the stairs he disappears.