[right][h3][b][i][color=lightsteelblue]Justice Cobalt[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=lightsteelblue]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=lightsteelblue][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Shadowell Manor: Confinement (Attic)
[color=lightsteelblue][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] Perception
[color=lightsteelblue][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 6
[color=lightsteelblue]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	Cobalt's headache was starting to set in again. Titian had apparently identified himself and subsequently leveled accusations at just about everyone else in the room, whatever patience had been restraining the man seeming to snap. And it was certainly an impressive snap, and if what he said was true, then it certainly cast the petite would-be murderer in a new light. Clearly Cobalt had missed a great deal while trapped in the bizarre realm of his own dreams, and he was still playing catch-up. But if Titian's outburst was supposed to end the bickering, it only seemed to inflame it, and Cobalt quickly realised that his grand ambitions of the group working together was already falling apart at the seams. Sighing slightly, Cobalt glanced around the room, only half-listening to the argument of whether or not they should try and find their way out of their confinement. 

	In truth, Cobalt felt like he was largely out of place in the room. There at least seemed to be some loyalty between a handful of the others, but Cobalt had barely shared more than a handful of passing words with anyone in the room. The only guests that Cobalt had spent the time to try and understand were either presumed dead, or in an entirely different part of the house. And the figure that he felt the closest to having any kind of connection with, Analia, he may well never see again. At the very least, the abrupt death of her father would likely cast a dampener over any kind of kinship they could have shared. He had no reason to trust anyone in the room, and in truth, holding his tongue had probably caused him to slip into obscurity. With the almost overwhelmingly large character of Titian vying for attention with several of the other guests, who was paying attention to Cobalt? He wasn't used to it, and he wasn't sure he liked it. 

	The scratching at the back of his head sprang back to life, and the impatience that had been bubbling underneath the surface started to break out. If they wanted to break out, then break out! Wandering around the corridors of this house, with no idea what was around the next bend, let them damn themselves. Cobalt opened his mouth to speak when he heard the faint sound of a violin playing, somewhere within the house. His words died on his lips, and he cocked his head slightly to try and hear the tune better. He had heard Amaranthine play before, or Miranda Manchester if the other guests were to be believed, and he fancied he was hearing her again, although there was no way of knowing that. The music was like nothing he had ever heard, haunting and violent all at once. Cobalt almost allowed himself to be lost in it, before the lights began to flicker. He heard Titian's question, and then the room plunged into total darkness. 

	Cobalt knew he had the wall at his back, and he stumbled back until he pressed himself against it, suddenly wary of an attack from every angle, his eyes straining. He heard a door open and close, but whether that was someone coming in, or going out, Cobalt had no way of knowing. Someone at least had the sense to call for light. Hopefully someone would be able to provide it. Cobalt didn't like the idea of blindly wandering across the room, so he kept his back against the wall, senses straining for any clue.