[center][h2][color=orange] Debora White [/color][/h2][/center][hr]

As Debora left the office building, her thoughts grew apprehensive. The dying man’s warning seemed to echo after her and the image of him shrouded in white, red blood pooling around him, flashed in her mind’s eye, a macabre overexposure imposed upon the cold empty streets of Arkham.

Blood and Death. Debora tried to focus on the man’s warning, but those two words bobbed along in her thoughts, buoys bearing another dire omen. Blood and Death. [i]Dom and Mace. Dalled Mem, Mem Tav. [/i] The cubed Hebrew letters joined the morass of her thoughts before fading to the numbers they represented, their [i]Gematria. [/i] 4 and 40, 40 and 400. Forty-four, and again forty-four. A horrible omen for the task ahead.

A name came to her suddenly, relating to the dead man’s warning. She passed it through her mind, trying to dislodge any other useful information, but the name only tangled with the ill-omened numbers. Debora crossed the street, her steps slowing as she glanced up at the library. If there were more hours before her, she might spend them trying to dissect the full implications of the man’s warning. Now, she hurried along towards the location specified in her invitation.

It felt distinctly odd to be traversing the darkened city streets costumed as a Sheba straight from a fantastical Arabian Nights. In the light pooling around the streetlamps she passed, the teal and aqua coloring of the velvet and satin outfit showed. Accent pieces; jewelry, purse, her half mask, and the medallion on her turban were a contrasting reddish orange. These were easily discardable if necessary. The costume itself she had chosen to further obscure herself. Long gloves, a thin veil, full trousers and added ruffling that changed her usual silhouette. Debora was certain that in any other setting she would cut a ridiculous figure, but at the Wilde ball she would hopefully be one of many costumed attendees.

Laughter boomed, starkly out of place against the looming shadows of Arkham. Debora’s head whipped round, searching for the source of the sound, and then she spotted it. A horse drawn carriage, almost lost in the inky darkness of the night, if not for the lamplight spilling out from within. The door was open, and in the doorway, framed by the light, stood a figure.

Moving forward, Debora could discern more voices from within the carriage, as a trio of party guests made introductions. The man on the threshold of the vehicle was Red. Debora inhaled slightly when he spoke with a distinctive Texan drawl, an accent she had not counted on hearing so far from her birthplace, and one that conjured both familiarity and remoteness.

Red climbed inside, and the door seemed likely to close. Debora stepped forward quickly, raising a hand. [color=orange] “Room for one more?” [/color] She inquired, injecting levity into her voice. She must blend in with these rich guests and mirror their giddy attitude towards journeying to Wilde Hall.

One of the carriage’s occupants held the door open and offered a hand to Debora. It was not the Texan Red, or Mr. Violet, but the third. A dark half mask accented his blue eyes while contrasting with his white hat. The suit he wore was also dark, bearing faint white stripes. The uniform of a mobster, or at least the perfect likeness of one. For a heartbeat, Debora hesitated, and then she placed a gloved hand into the man’s and lifted herself into the carriage.

[color=orange] “Thank you. I’m pleased I caught you. I thought for a moment I would have to make other arrangements and arrive late.”[/color]  She smiled, [color=orange] “As to introductions, I’m Mrs. Copper this evening, a bit tarnished I’m afraid,” [/color] This was said with a sweep of her hand over her aqua harem trousers. [color=orange] “And you are?” [/color]

Debora studied the man’s face. Closer, she could discern the notes at the bottom of his mask. Which was the costume, the pinstripes or the music notes? She lingered on the threshold, wanting to get her bearings of the lightened coach, and put faces to Mr. Violet and Red and a name to the third.

The man dressed in a well-tailored purple jacket greeted her first, smiling warmly. He did not introduce himself, but Debora had little trouble matching his title to Mr. Violet. She noted his sandy blond hair, green eyes and friendliness that seemed perfectly genuine. He was also a bit of a flatterer. "Mrs. Copper? That's dandy, just dandy. Thank you for bringing some much needed grace to our rag-tag band, madam."

As was Genie.  [color=662d91] ‘Oh, how rude of me. Tonight, I am called Genie. Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Mrs. Copper.’ [/color] The name stuck out from the color theme, and Debora wondered what had prompted him to select it. A gentle poke at her costume, perhaps? But no, the introduction had been too general. He had given her a once over to match her own as he helped her aboard. Simply curious, or was he too hoping to glean some detail more?

Debora made careful note of the third man, Red. He seemed nervous, with an air of tension to the set of his shoulders. Dark featured, with a crooked nose, it was his shifting eyes that were the most striking. A mismatched set, the right was dark and the left a brilliant blue. A detail like that would be hard to forget, and with relief, Debora felt confident she had never encountered this man before.

Genie called to the driver [color=662d91] ‘Well then, it seems like the carriage is practically full. Excuse me driver, I think we’re just about ready to go.’ [/color]

Debora lounged on the open seat, coat pooling around her. [color=orange] “For all the grace it provides, I hope my presence does not strip the joviality from you fine men! Tonight is for gaiety and I mean to make merry! Laughter led me to your coach. Do let me in on the joke, unless it dulls in the retelling, in which case do substitute another.” [/color]

Mister Violet answered her, his smile stretching further. "I am afraid there was no joke of note, but I am joyous to hear that we are kindred spirits in merriment! It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I shall endeavour to ensure that we enjoy our night, or at the very least, this coach journey. Speaking of..." He too turned his attention to the driver.

Opposite him in temperament was Red, who quietly peered out the window as the carriage rolled along. He had yet to utter a word in her presence, and Debora wondered if his window gazing was a further symptom of a solitary attitude or something more.

Genie mused about the driver and the opening of Wilde Hall. [color=662d91] "Quite a strange fellow that one. Doesn't seem like the type of person to be hired by someone as influential as our host. What an honor isn’t it? Being invited to the Wilde Hall after all those years of silence. I must say, I’m quite nervous and excited. Still I do wonder, what made them open the gates after all this time.” [/color]

“Perhaps the question is not why do they open their gates, perhaps it is why we choose to go in.” Mister Violet redirected the scrutiny to their own motives in attending the ball. The mood shifted instantly, the very air seeming to chill. Mister Violet’s smile flickered and then he was himself again. “I have to say, I am damn glad to have bumped into you all, if you'll pardon my language Mrs. Copper. I was worried that the evening was going to be a painfully boring affair, but I feel far brighter knowing I will have you fine folk at my side.”

Debora pulled her coat a little closer as she waved away Mister Violet’s concern. She peered at the others in the carriage as they traded glances, redefining the first impression of her fellow guests like an artist would their sketches. Laughter had led her to the coach, but it only seemed a veneer covering an anticipatory dread that was not wholly unlike Debora’s own emotions.

[color=orange] “Boring, a Wilde Ball? And painfully so at that,” [/color] Debora offered a wry smile, [color=orange] “Mister Violet, I am afraid that you are shattering my anticipation for a mirthful evening. Have you- That is, do you speak from a place of experience?” [/color] She fidgeted with the edge of her turban, hoping to appear uncomfortable in her admission of being one of the newly rich.

Mr. Violet’s gaze darted briefly towards Red when he answered, ‘I have often found, Mrs Copper, that even the most lavish events live and die by the company you keep.’ Did the two men have a history attending such functions? The mention of death was not a welcome addition to the carriage, coupled with the dark atmosphere the words seemed to hint at more than a ball’s social scene.

“But you are, of course, correct. After all, these Wilde Balls seem to be the talk of the town, and their reputation certainly precedes them, although I admit some of the more far-fetched stories are likely fiction. From what I have heard, I should expect to be greeted by a herd of wild elephants”

Mr. Violet sought to dispel rumors, but the one he cited brought more questions to Debora. The blond-haired man then laughed. It was a mocking sound given their current surroundings and extremely unsettling. He again called attention to their personal motivations in attending the ball, “I have not had the pleasure of seeing Wilde Hall with my own eyes, no. But I assure you, Mrs Copper, that I have a personal interest in the night that lies ahead. I imagine I am not alone in that.”

And he looked at them each searchingly.