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

Debora scrutinized Mr. Violet in turn. What was his goal in the present moment? Was he seeking a co-conspirator for some plot? Or were secrets merely his currency of choice? Perhaps he hoped to mine a few before reaching the Hall. Whatever his reasoning, if learning their hidden motivations was his goal, Mr. Violet had not proceeded at all cautiously.

Genie asked about the naming of the Wood. [color=662d91] ‘The Wilde Woods. Ancient, old, and unforgiving. That’s what the rumors say at least. Do you think the woods were named after the family or the family after the woods?’ [/color] He had been glancing out the window, but for all his appearance of nonchalance, he wanted the topic shifted badly enough to propose another. Debora had no objections.

[color=orange] “I’d image the Wildes themselves were first,” [/color] Debora said, though she was not sure. [color=orange] “If they drew their name from their surroundings, we might very well be attending Thornbank Hall, would we not?” [/color] She looked to Mr. Violet, attempting to gauge any answer he might offer.

Debora moved her securitizing gaze away from Mr. Violet after he responded. ‘Very true, Mrs Copper. It sounds as if you know something of what lies ahead of us at least.’ No one else ventured a guess about the Wildes. She looked to Genie, wondering if he knew despite his raising the question in the first place. Again, she wondered about his choice of costume and then further to his reason in attending the Ball.

"What about the most reserved member of our party? Have you graced Wilde Hall before, Mister Red?"  Mr. Violet spoke again, directing himself to Red. 

The dark-haired man responded with surprising hostility. ‘No’

"Come now, old boy. A party is a social event, why not warm up with new friends?" 

"Not. Interested.”

Tension raised between the two, but Red returned to the window and the moment passed. Mr. Violet looked to her and Genie.

Red had seemed reclusive before, but now Debora realized he was in a horrible temper. Debora uncrossed and recrossed her ankles. If she had to hazard a guess at his motivation, premeditated violence seemed likely. With the delicate nature of her purpose that night, a loose cannon of such degree posed an awful risk.

[color=orange] “Perhaps Mr. Red is not interested in our direct company, Mr. Violet.” [/color] She spoke calmly, [color=orange] “But he is interested in our chatter. I noticed his covert glances while we discussed the Wildes." [/color] Debora stroked the edge of her coat, [color=orange] "One must wonder what rumor concerning our hosts has reached all the way to Texas." [/color]

Her comment elicited a further show of anger from Red, and seemingly equally fierce desperation. He locked Debora squarely in his mismatched sights and leaned towards her to deliver his rebuke. "You don't know anything about me, lady."

Before Debora had a chance to respond, Mister Violet was quick to interject.

 "Now steady on, old boy. I think you should show Mrs. Copper a little more respect..."

Debora’s eyebrows rose as Mister Violet instantly took up for her. He moved to touch Red, and the wild man struck, knocking his hand away before twisting his wrist. Red yelled a threat which he seemed more than willing to follow through on: "Touch me again, and you lose your hand." Debora drew her left hand to her mouth as if in shock, while her right inched towards her coat pocket.

Genie tried to calm things, [color=662d91] ‘Now now, take it easy. We’re here for a party not a fight.’ [/color] and then a shout sounded from outside and the carriage stopped.

A moment of ripe tension elapsed. Red dropped his hold and peered around. Perhaps he anticipated what Debora did, the coachman -described by Genie as a strange fellow out of place for his position- stepping down to drag him out. But the door remained shut.

Cautiously, Debora shifted her attention with the others to the windows and what lay beyond.

A dark gate, and the gnarled trees marked the boundary of the Wilde’s estates. Slowly, it was opened, and the carriage was admitted into the nightmarish landscape beyond. Dark figures moved about, swinging the gate shut. Debora peered at these as the carriage drew away, bearing its passengers ever closer to their destination. She shifted in her seat but did not sit back again. A cold tension began to coil within her stomach. Her heel tapped against the carriage floor twice.

Red crossed himself and murmured a prayer. It seemed there was Someone to whom he would address himself readily after all, Debora thought dryly, though perhaps the one-sided nature of those talks was the appeal.

Mister Violet made a chipper remark,  "Clearly our hosts have a taste for the theatrical." and Genie smiled and agreed [color=662d91]  ‘Well, it certainly seems so. After all, what’s a party without a little drama.’ [/color]

The two were eager to move past the tension filled situation of mere moments ago. Did they think the matter would settle if they did so? That they could distance themselves from Red at the Hall and avoid further complications? Of course, Debora thought, they probably were not aware of the violence his very presence promised.

Trying to draw Red out and his following antagonism had provided Debora with a cobbled together theory of his motivation. [i] ‘You don’t know anything about me, lady’ [/i] - Perhaps another Lady knew too much. [i] ‘Touch me again, and you lose your hand.’ [/i] The finality of that threat implied he had a weapon and would not be shy to use it on anything that could impede his goal.  

And then most telling of all, the name he had chosen for himself: ‘Red’. In Hebrew; [i] ‘Ah-Dome’ only two letters off from Dom, [/i] blood, and a mere value of seven removed from 4 and 40.

Perhaps she would be pitted against Red before the night was finished, but that remained to be seen. Nothing could be gained from antagonizing him further.

[color=orange] “If you value drama at your parties, Genie, tonight should not disappoint,” [/color] Debora murmured the warning, and carefully angled herself as far away from Red as possible.

So near to her destination, Debora’s attention was pulled to the window again. The Wood ended, and beyond it stretched the Lake. Thornbank Lake… Debora stared out at the inky black expanse and immediately lost her sense of self. Vaguely, she could feel the carriage moving beneath her, and knew that it was crowded with other guests. But at the same time, she felt the water undulating at her feet, so cold it went straight to her bones and made her gasp. And though such a shocking chill should prove a deterrent towards advancing further, Debora felt the draw towards its shadowy depths. Shadowy depths… What was concealed…. Within….

[color=orange] “In the carriage, not a dream,” [/color] Debora murmured to herself, and she gripped the edge of the seat fiercely to keep from slipping into the water.

Another figure was likewise tensing near her, and the realization allowed Debora to draw her focus back to the carriage. She blinked owlishly, trying to recover her breath and her bearings. The carriage moved along and the scene outside shifted.

Now they were at the Hall and Debora knew she was not dreaming. Because a nightmare mansion Wilde Hall was not. At least on the outside. Other guests were arriving, lively music filled the air, and a warm glow spilled from the main door.

Debora drew her coat tightly around herself, and found she desperately wanted a drink. [color=orange] “I hope they’ve a good vintage waiting.”[/color]