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

Debora passed the threshold into Wilde Hall. The evening’s festivities had started without them. Music flowed on the air, and the few other guests present were moving quickly towards its source. Debora’s own ears strained slightly, but she kept the more tempered pace of her companions.

There were portraits lining the walls of the corridor and her gaze trailed over them. Among their imposing faces, she caught a sudden quick movement! Debora glanced at Lucy Wilde’s face again, and her eyes locked onto another set not drawn by any artists’ hand. Debora’s breath caught in her throat, her thoughts, still lingering on the dark effects of the lake, turning to the sinister and the otherworldly, before realizing that what she was actually looking at was a peephole.

Immediately, she was reminded of the previous flicker of movement she had glimpsed outside the hall, a silhouette at a window. Whom among the mansion’s occupants was shunning the more active party scene for mere stolen glimpses at guests?

A narrow branch left the corridor here. Towards the right was the mysterious peeper. 

Forward would be drinks… and music.

She noted the branch but did not stray. Yet. 

Her gaze flicked over her companions, settling on the soldier. [color=orange] “Captain Khaki, isn’t it? Do you often attend these functions?” [/color] She purposely botched his title and posed an open-ended question, in hopes to gauge if he was truly as mute as the Hall’s servants. 

Corporal Khaki started, seemingly caught off guard by her questions, was he looking at the peephole as well? The movement was too quick to tell. After clearing his throat, he answered readily enough, and articulately enough to shed any doubt of him being mute. 

“I’m afraid it is Corporal Khaki, ma,am. I…” 

The man hesitated, seeming to catch himself, before pressing on again, leaving the sentence unfinished. 

“I confess that this is not entirely ‘my scene’, so to speak. The three of you seem far more at -home”

Debora pursed her lips as she nodded along to his assumptions. [color=orange] “Corporal Khaki, of course, my apologies.” [/color]

Perhaps the solider was simply another guest, but his traveling companion was anything but. Debora resisted the urged to peer back at the entrance. How long would it take the professor to finish reprimanding his charges? 

[color=662d91] “I speak for myself but while I do enjoy a good party, something as…” [/color] Genie said, snapping of his fingers,  [color=662d91] “Something as grand and formal as this event is new to me. I’m actually quite parched. Shall we hurry along? After all what better way to meet and mingle with new friends than over food and drink.” [/color] He smiled.

Debora grinned in turn. [Color=orange] “I feel you have read my thoughts, Genie. Yes, let’s have that drink!” [/color] And she pressed onward, hoping to put distance between herself and Green, and perhaps camouflage among the other guests. Part of her felt that such precautions would prove ineffective against someone so ingrained to the running of the Hall.

Mister Violet laughed and clapped a hand on Corporal Khaki’s shoulder, the soldier flinching slightly at the contact. “Whatever the case, you’re in better company now, my friend!” 

He led the way forward as the corridor itself turned to the left. Nearing the pulsing heart of the party, the music grew louder, and the atmosphere seemed normal for what Debora had expected at such an event. Then the group passed the last portrait, and their progress was arrested by the dark headed subject’s painted gaze.

[i]Avery Wilde[/i]. Debora read.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Mister Violet that found his voice first, although the joviality of it seemed a touch more strained than usual. “Our host for the evening looks like quite the woman.”

Eugene agreed. [color=662d91] “Certainly does and we’d best not keep her waiting.” [/color]

There was something about Avery and not just the burning behind her eyes, or the set of her features. All the festivities of the evening, the running of the Hall, all of it revolved around this woman. Debora locked eyes with the painting and adjusted the fur coat on her own shoulders. [color=orange] “I doubt anyone keeps her waiting,” [/color] She murmured. 

Mr. Violet commanded them onward, and Debora snapped her eyes away from the painting. She looked towards the hallway ahead and strained her ears to the music. 

They entered a large room where the main party seemed to be taking place. Though party goers disappearing through other doorways hinted that the Wilde ball was not confined to one room. Confined to one floor would be a better guess, because those present seemed to shun the wide staircase to their right. 

Debora’s eyes tracked over the high windows and the masked musicians grouped beneath them. Revelers danced before them, interrupting her view. 

“Now this I could get used to!” Mr. Violet remarked brightly. Debora noted that perhaps this was his first ball as well. Genie asked after drinks, reminding her that securing one had been of great importance to her after the dark turn at the lake. 

At that moment, a maid detached herself from the crowd and moved towards them, drinks tray in hand. “Sirs? Ma’am?” she spoke, unlike the servants outside, and Debora glanced at Khaki. Mr. Violet was first to take a glass with another jovial laugh ‘Excellent timing!’. The maid however kept her attention elsewhere. Debora followed her flickering gaze across the room to a tall dark figure. 

The man stood with dark hair long tied back, dark suit perfectly fitted, and skin tanned by some foreign sun. A small group had formed around him, and as he talked, he turned, his face properly coming into view for the first time. Though halfway across the room, his voice lost in the maelstrom of conversation and music, his face still caught her attention.

Handsome, but there is something about the man’s mouth, the way the thin lips seemed to pull a little too far back, the perfect white teeth catching the light a little too much. Debora felt a shudder build along her spine but pressed it down, turning her focus back to her immediate surroundings.

Another figure well known to the running of Wilde Hall from the maid’s reaction. Debora was slightly surprised to find her mouth set in a tight line beneath her veil. Something wrong was happening at Wilde Hall. Even if one overlooked the… the dreams… People were being served ill.

Genie took a champagne flute and Debora followed suit. Though he seemed at ease, his gaze lingered on hers before he complimented the drink. [color=662d91] “Exquisite drink, don’t you all think so?” [/color]

Debora arched an eyebrow beneath her mask, wondering at the meaning. She had been so vocal about receiving a drink before, he likely thought it odd she had not been the first to partake. 

Perhaps her other mask was slipping. Debora took the glass in a light touch and dipped it beneath her veil to take a long sip. Warmth flamed in the stomach, and it was a good, grounded feeling.  Yet for all the warmth, she did feel a measure of annoyance. This was where in part, forces like the Wilde’s solidified their fortunes, while common folk where hindered. [color=orange] “Quite exquisite,” [/color] She agreed and stilled her thumb from reaching to rub out the lipstick mark on the rim, an action that would stain her gloves. [color=orange] “Though one must pace oneself.” [/color]