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Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled The invitation had come after yet another interminable ball, celebrating some whosis or whatsit amongst the city's elite. It was a simple roll of parchment, inviting Chorus in the name of Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled to be welcome to a 'Kingsgrave Manor', should she be inclined. Hunting and necromantic seminars, or simple rest and relaxation against the island moors, were on offer. Old-school hospitality rules ruled here, it seemed..
Chorus In Creation, Chorus operated undercover, as an infiltrator, freely switching between names, titles, and disguises as circumstances demanded, to fit in wherever her mistress needed her to.

Here, in the Underworld, she can flaunt her power more openly: Widely known as a prodigious singer across the eastern isles and rivers, dubbed the Hallowed Voice by most, she tends to draw looks of envy and admiration wherever she appears.

But this visit to Black Diamond, the Archeron League's heart, couldn't be further from a leisurely tour date. The Moonshadow arrived on the flagship of a small flotilla, heavily armed escort vessels saving as her protectors during the voyage from Stygia. She came under the flag of an emissary, sent by the Princess Magnificent, to participate in a grand gathering of diplomats from across the League, and beyond.

Far from the only deathknight sent to join in these proceedings, her presence serves as a meaningful signal to those who know the Princess' true identity: The Black Heron might still be in the process of recovering from the loss of her power and wealth centuries ago, but she's gaining ground, and where power congregates and negotiates, she, too, has a place at the table.

As for what is actually discussed during these meetings? That remains strictly confidential. And yet, official gatherings aren't even the important part. During the balls, parties, and salons that inevitably follow, emissaries and dignitaries mingling with Black Diamond's high society - that's where the real deals are being forged. Where one expands their network of contacts and "friends". Where favors are traded at high stakes.

All salons are pits full of venomous snakes, though. And so, when that unexpected invitation for a far more relaxing venue reaches Chorus' hands, she makes room in her schedule to take Ashes up on his offer.

After all, why not? It has been... how long? Several weeks? A moon, two? - since they last spoke, before she departed from the Unfinished City.

And so, a palanquin makes its way out to Kingsgrave Manor, hauled by gilded zombies, surrounded by ghostly guards, their demeanor grim and watchful behind their Stygian masks.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled The manor itself was clearly one of the lesser, for the great and good of Black Diamond. It was clearly no manse, the energies of Underworld ley lines and Essence not coalescing underneath it. It sat amongst rolling hills and rivers a slight distance outside the city, at least occupying a picturesque place upon the moors once one rode forth from the forest. Tall, grim, gothic, very stereotypical - but then, wasn't that Ashes' own appearance in a nutshell?

The carriage would be let through at the front gate swiftly enough, the familiar soldier-ghosts of the Ghost Dragons on duty. One or two in the patrols even seemed to recognize Chorus, saluting her with actual genuine respect due.

Down a road some distance, across several acres of rolling hills and low rivers and creeks, stood the manor itself. A fairly healthy sized affair in the *Coral* style, of all things - perhaps he'd inherited it rather than had it built himself? There were other guests as well, it seemed - she could spy a small band of merry ghosts making their way from an outbuilding of stables, lead by a very enthusiastic *living* young lady with flaming red hair bobbing behind her.

As her palanquin pulled up to the front doors, a flight of servants emerged and began seeing to her belongings, along with a rather respectable looking one with a neatly trimmed moustache (how he managed that as a *ghost* was a bit odd, mind...)

"My lady Chorus, welcome to Kingsgrave Manor." His Riverspeak had a western Scavenger Lands accent. "I am Samuel, castellan to the estate, and my master sends his best wishes. He's attending to some business in his parlor at the moment, but fully intends to join us in short order - may I offer you a tour or some refreshments first?"

Chorus To someone who had seen very little of Creation so far, and certainly not the Coral Archipelago yet, the manor's architectural style looked exotic, with finer nuances lost to her. Of course, that doesn't mean she can't appreciate its splendor from behind the palanquin's heavy curtains, sparkling in the bleak afternoon light with all the tiny jewels woven into the fabric.

Likewise, she takes note of the manor's other guests. She's here to meet people, after all. Encounters with new faces are always exciting! Entertaining living guests might be a bit of an oddity, but it isn't unheard of. She has done it herself, after all, if she deemed them interesting or useful enough.

When Samuel greets her, the zombies lower the palanquin, moaning softly. Two escorts pull the curtains aside, and a third ghostly guard - Shredded Promises, for those who have seen them before - bows deeply before their mistress, extending an arm to help her descend to the ground.

The Moonshadow emerges resplendent, in a multi-layered garment that might be described as a noble sari by those knowledgeable in the fashion of the Southeast. The sheer amount of golden jewelry on her might as well be light armor, if gold were a suitable material for such.

The full force of her smile bears down on the ghostly servant. "Thank you for the warm welcome, Samuel. I would love to partake in your refreshments. A tour would be nice as well." She looks around, admiring the grounds. "Your master's taste is most commendable."

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled 'Splendor' might have been a bit of a misnomer. It had sort of the faded grandeur of an aged dowager, the sort who would stride into a room in the fashion of seasons past and with jewelry tarnished by time, yet still command attention and respect from the younger peers. Ashes' taste was clearly to the subdued and tasteful - most of the time.

Samuel smiled, bowing at her compliment. "Thank you, madame. The staff were quite pleased to come into the service of someone who appreciated the house, and it has been exceedingly pleasant having guests again. This way, please - your belongings will be taken to your room."

Inside was, well, it was a manor house. It lacked, to some degree, the sort of family history one might expect from similar places, but that wasn't terribly surprising - Abyssals had to sever a great deal from their pasts. Instead, most of the portraits and trophies upon the walls were that of former guests, notables of the Underworld - with pride of place in the foyer being occupied by a truly massive portrait of the Mask Of Winters *himself.* It was a frighteningly accurate work of art, the two-headed mask, the elaborate silver-chased robes with the hint of the heavy armor underneath them. Perhaps it was a trick of the eye, but the way it was drawn; one could almost find it difficult to tell which direction the Mask was *truly* facing.

"May I interest you in some of the manor's history, my lady? I have been told it is rather dry, yet some of the academy's students have found it most engaging." Samuel offered, simply being polite, as he lead her around a circuit of the ground floor.

Chorus Most of Chorus' entourage are staying behind, guarding the palanquin, or assisting the manor servants with unloading her belongings. Three follow her inside: The first is Shredded Promises, in their crimson robes and ivory mask; the second, a tall, heavy woman with a massive tetsubo in black leather armor girded with belts and chains; and the third, a thin creature in bloodstained wraps that might have been white long ago, spindly limbs elongated far beyond human norms, yellow eyes darting about madly, glowing in the darkness. The specter is wearing a manacle around its neck, and is lead on a chain by the big woman.

All four visitors take in the sights with varying degrees of interest, but Chorus is the one who pauses the longest before that portrait of the Deathlord, gazing at it for a while in silent contemplation.

"Please, go ahead", she encourages Samuel, smiling with no small measure of amusement. "My retainers will greatly appreciate such knowledge as well. And I would love to know how your master came into the manor's posession, too."

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled A smile, as he lead them through a trophy room (mostly animals, different game of the Underworld, fairly large predators of varying stripes stuffed and mounted), a rather extensive library (which had a group of ghosts and Shadowlander mortals, clearly from the Hall of Attainment, sitting with brandy and pipes discussing various topics - as one they rose and bowed in respect to an Abyssal by her passage, the mortals themselves clearly frightened), and what seemed to be a music room. Piano and various stringed and wind instruments sat untouched for the time being.

"The manor was constructed about two hundred years ago, give or take a few decades, by a gentleman of the Timeless Order Of Manacle And Coin. He was seeking certain preferences within the city, and by requirement had to own property and fund certain public works - this was, of course, before my time. After construction was completed, he enjoyed roughly a decade of ownership before a most unfortunate accident occurred and his soul became forfeit to certain interests among the Dukes." Through a dining room with a decidedly impressive ironwood feasting table - Eastern Underworld ironwood, by the color tinge.

"After that, the manor passed through several hands within the ruling parties, eventually coming into the hands of The Duke With Seven Jaws, who found the appearance rather reminiscent of his life within the West. It was at this point most of the serving staff were properly summoned and bound to the building. This happy state of affairs continued, the Manor becoming akin to a summer home for a century or so, before it was given as a gift to our new lord." And through a rather richly appointed sitting room at the back, overlooking the rear gardens and a greenhouse of some size.

Chorus Chorus beams and waves at the students when their group passes through the library, her smile widening into a toothy grin when the living mortals respond with fright. The bookshelves receive only a passing glance from her, but the two ghostly bodyguards stop a few times, peering at different collections - Prom seems to be mostly interested in volumes about poetry, while the tetsubo bearer's eyes widen a little at anything concerned with warfare.

The music room, however, draws and holds Chorus' attention for far longer. If this wasn't supposed to be a brief tour, she might have lingered there, to breathe some (un-)life into those long-neglected instruments.

She listens most attentively to the story of the manor's previous owners, acting as if these names mean something to her - and they very likely do, given that she is herself a politician in service to one of the mighty Signatories.

Likewise, she walks closer to the overlook, to admire the view of the gardens below. "It has quite the history, this place. Did your new master elect to change anything, or has he left things as they were under the previous owners?" Turning her head to look at Samuel, unsmiling now, but still with an open, inviting expression that's difficult to ~not~ like.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled "The master's business is, of course, not mine to say, my lady." He demurred, though only so far. "But I will say he has been a fairly good master. This place has served him well as a home between his campaigns, and he has proven a most generous patron of arts and intellectual pursuits. We often find ourselves hosting guests from the Hall of Attainment's current classes, with other artists and figures of the new movements within the city coming here for holidays."

Another serving girl quietly murmured something to him, and he nodded. "Ah, his business is concluded. This way, please." Up the stairs they went, the second floor clearly the home of various rooms for guests, along with the odd parlor and sitting room. There was a most excellent view of the grand hall from an above balcony, about the height of the head of the Mask's portrait - they passed it (the mask almost seeming to be *watching* Chorus as they passed), along with the hanging trophy of some kind of river beast. Up another flight of stairs they went, to the third floor - but it was here that Chorus met the second oddity of the day.

She was clad in a robe that hung down to her thighs, tied at the waist with a silken sash. Raven-black hair, a tad rumpled, tied at the back in a topknot. All told, she looked almost like the type of pretty ornament one might find on some warlord's hip - were it not for the fact one could see scars aplenty on her legs, on her muscled arms, across one eye and down the side of her face. She stopped, briefly, walking dwon the steps, and gave Chorus a long, silent stare.

...Chorus had seen zombies with more life behind their eyes, than the woman across from her. A gaze utterly dead met her, took her in, a head tilting slowly. Samuel looked...discomfited. "...ah. May I present the Lady Hellhound, madam. Lady Hellhound, the Lady Chorus, a guest of the master."

The 'Hellhound' didn't look at the butler, still staring into Chorus' eyes.

Chorus It was all very interesting, for sure... pleasant surroundings, impressive halls, nice views. But in time, Chorus grows impatient - without showing it, of course. She came here to meet ~people~ first and foremost. So far, the only one in residence who actually engaged with her is the butler.

Naturally, she follows him without missing a beat when he finally decides to lead her to his master. A little longer, and she would have been tempted to throw teasing words into Ashes' mind for making her wait.

To her great delight, there's some actual excitement lurking on the way to the Dusk's abode. When the mysterious ~living~ woman stops and gives her that look, Chorus pauses in her stride as well, and fully turns her attention on the Hellhound, her gaze traveling back and forth across the other woman's form - and oh, there's a lot to look at - before meeting that dead-eyed stare.

Her own dark eyes shine with friendly curiosity now, keeping her true feelings hidden behind the mask of that handsome face. She curtsies without breaking eye contact, and smiles with harmless amiability. "Good day to you, Lady Hellhound. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled The Lady Hellhound didn't reply, still staring at Chorus - and just before it would have become socially uncomfortable, she nodded, once. Bowing, politely, in the Realm style - arms up, fist in open palm. She moved like a martial artist, that was certain.

Her gaze turned to Samuel, nodding once as well. The butler coughed, adjusting the lapels of his robe. "May I offer you-"

The woman just strode down the stairs, after that, still silent. "-...I suppose not. Apologies, madam, the Lady is...taciturn, most days."

Chorus The deathknight's gaze follows the Hellhound's movements, and when the silent woman turns to walk away, Chorus' eyes invariably check out that ass, not attempting to hide her interest now.

And yet, she still remains cordial towards the butler, trying to set him at ease with a friendly curl of the fingers. "It's no problem at all." Another lingering gaze follows the Hellhound, until she disappears from view. "Is she, too, a guest, or a servant of your master?"

Before Samuel can answer, she looks at him again, and tilts her head. "I suppose I could ask him myself. Take me to him."

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled "She is a...retainer, I suppose." Samuel answered, slowly. And yes, that was a *fine* ass on the woman. A decent sway, clearly sculpted *well* under that robe, and to some extent almost gravity-defying. "She's been in service to the master for a few months now, though she hasn't left the estate. I'm sorry, but beyond that you would have to ask the lord himself, yes."

A quiet cough, and he settled his ruffled feathers. Up the stairs they went.

"You might find her cohorts, the Lady Valkyrie or Lord Manticore, somewhat more loquacious company, however. The Lady Valkyrie leads most of the horse racing or practice bouts, while the Lord Manticore can oft be found either in the library or leading similar." He seemed to be speaking slightly to fill the air, as they entered the third floor - a single passage with doors to either side and a lovely bay window overlooking the estate. The butler knocked, twice, at the door on the right; a muffled 'Enter.' in a familiar rasp sounding. The ghostly servant shouldered the door open, and within was a positively *beautiful* solar (not the Exalt kind) and office, with a staircase and balcony overlooking. A hunting trophy chandelier made of antlers and such hung above a few glass cases, containing precious stones or other bits and bobs - likely pieces of prior Hundred Kingdoms campaigns. Near a fireplace, a familiar suit of armor stood; a tray with a carafe of wine sitting on the table beside him, and a goblet in his own hand, another filled one by a squashy armchair.

Ashes turned around, and she could hear a small smile in his voice. "Chorus. I see you recieved my letter."

Chorus Quietly, Chorus takes mental notes of those names and where to find them later on. If Samuel deems their company "loquacious"... well, they might be worth checking out.

Her bodyguards exchange telling glances when the Hellhound leaves. There might have been some tension in the air, but not much more - they know their mistress well enough to judge when she's in control of a situation. The specter has spent most of that encounter staring at the butler, and muttering something incomprehensible.

Before Chorus enters the solar, she gestures at her guards. "Samuel, my friends here would welcome a bit of rest and refreshments as well. I will entrust their wellbeing to you." She gives Shredded Promises a nod, both encouraging and dismissive. "Take the night off, all of you. Should I have need of you, I will let you know."

They bow, and the Moonshadow turns around, sweeping into Ashes' handsome office.

Her sari is strikingly colorful, especially compared to the Envoy's largely black and white regalia. A lovely shade of teal dominates most of the silken finery, combined with deep purple, and a dash of vivid pink here and there. Floral embroidery leads the eye from her right shoulder in a diagonal line across her chest and belly, down to her left hip and thigh, intersecting only by the rows of jeweled necklaces sparkling on her chest. The Envoy's iridescent cloak is absent, replaced by a scintillating sash of strikingly similar "fabric", which Chorus wears draped over her shoulders and forearms.

The sari is cut to accentuate the shape of her body, but shows very little bare skin - leaving only her arms and shoulders bare. Bracelets cover her wrists, earrings shimmer with chains of obsidian pearls, and tasteful makeup highlights her lips and cheekbones, sprinkled with golden dust.

Her hair falls differently, too, and the ash he was so used to seeing in the Envoy's dark strands is entirely gone.

But that captivating smile hasn't changed at all. She bows her head lightly in acknowledgement, placing her right hand on her chest as she does so. The hand jewelry she wears on her right doesn't consists of chain-linked rings, like on her left; rather, her fingers are covered in and capped by golden sheaths, each ending in a long, curved claw.

"Ashes. It has been too long", she says, mirroring his tone and his smile. "Thank you so much for that invitation. I ~had~ to come. What a lovely place you have here!" She steps further inside, and looks around in wonder.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled If Ashes had a poleaxed look from her appearance, it wasn't showing through his visor - but his tone was indeed warm and welcoming. "It's far too much for me, if I have to be *perfectly* honest, but the Duke was very insistent and there were appearances to maintain. I've had some rather fun living up to expectations around it, however." Passing her the goblet.

"I'd heard you were part of that dog and pony show in Black Diamond, and if your experience with the dukes was anything akin to mine, I thought some time afield with more easily seen through company might be refreshing."

Chorus "It suits you, whether you like it or not."

The goblet is accepted gracefully, clawed fingers clinking against the container. Chorus takes a seat in the empty armchair (which might well look comically large in comparison to her), and sniffs the liquid's aroma first before sipping tentatively.

"Thank you for your concern." She laughs, a sound like tinkling bells. "But oh, you make it sound as if I'm not enjoying it. The Dukes are fascinating company." Speaking in a slightly different voice than the Envoy's, too - a little higher, sounding playful and welcoming, even regal at times, instead of enigmatic and otherwordly. Is this the true Chorus, then, or just another role, one better suited to the part she has been sent to play here?

"I've brought gifts from Stygia. A selection of wine, brandy, and rum... and a truly special mead from Creation, brewed only at a small backwater by the lovely name of Rosevale. Rose mead, if you so will." She gestures lazily towards the door. "Forgive me for not chugging the bottles along with me during the little tour. That seemed rather impractical. I'll sent for a servant to bring them here later, if it pleases you."

She gives him a merry smile. "What have you been up to lately? Finally tired of Creation's dreary vistas?" Only teasing him a little bit.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled Amusement was writ throughout his tone, as he sank into a massive heavy armchair across the low table - and *this* one didn't groan under his weight. Furniture actually built to take heavy artifact armor poundage? This place really did suit him.

"Pay it no mind - I do enjoy a good tipple, and we can enjoy it together when it arrives." A lazy wave of his hand, and he swirled his own goblet. "This vintage is from a local winery, as a matter of fact. A vineyard seeking patronage, I've yet to decide whether they'd make something acceptable to tie to my name. Thus far, the white and rose were of fine stock, but the red is where the glory lies." His visor lifted up just enough to take a sip.

Listening to her go on about her fun in politics was a stark reminder of their difference in role, that was certain, though the smile she saw was clearly amused by it. A softer voice continued. "And mostly pursuing other projects and giving my men some leave - as well as checking in on some of my closer retainers. They mean to join me in Creation soon, once their own preparations are finished." A quiet hum. "And I had tribute to deliver, at that."

Chorus Chorus quickly warms up to the vintage after her first sip, and leans back, letting the taste settle before swallowing and following it up with another helping. Her smile turns sanguine. "It really is quite good! Mind if I take a bottle back home? The establishments in the Quarter are always on the lookout for new stock. I'll make it worth your while, of course. And thank you, for being such an excellent host."

At his mention of tribute, she chuckles. "You've been hard at work, I see. Most successfully so. I believe I've met one of your retainers already. Quite intriguing, this Lady Hellhound." She licks her lips. "Are the Lady Valkyrie and the Lord Manticore of a similar caliber? I should enjoy meeting them."

Her tone remains light and conversational, but she lets just a hint of mischief creep into her features.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled "...ah, you saw her on the way up?" Quietly, his cheerful demeanor dimming slightly. "She is...her story is a strange one, and no mistake." Sip.

"And yes, of sorts. The three of them are a Sworn Brotherhood, as a matter of fact." A shake of the head, as if even he found the idea hard to believe. Followed by a bit of a dry tilt to his head, as he noticed her licking her lips. "...and I'd try the Valkyrie before the Manticore. Frankly, I don't think even Venus herself could stir him." She could almost hear the eyeroll.

"That said, I'd take it as a favor if you left The Hellhound be, until or unless she invited you. Consider it a personal request."

Chorus That last remark - the personal request - is met with raised eyebrows, unlike the others, which Chorus simply lets wash over her, listening attentively, and observing him with that keen-eyed gaze of hers.

Unlke Ashes, she doesn't swirl her goblet, letting it rest in her hand instead. Her eyes drift away from his visor for a few moments, scanning the room, until she gives a melodic hum.

"Very well. No hard feelings, yes? It's all fun and games to me either way." She smiles warmly. "I know how it is with living pets. You can grow fond of them rather quickly, if you're not careful."

These words are followed by an exasperated sigh, and a light stretch of her sandaled foot. That motion would have likely resulted in a tap on the polished floor boards. If only she where able to reach them from a reclined position. As things stand, her feet are now dangling above the ground.

"Do you want to talk about her story, then, or would you prefer a different topic?"

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled Ashes hummed, quietly. Her question didn't catch him off-guard, but it was a hard one to answer off the cuff.

"...I would not dub the Dragonblooded pets by any stretch - not when the one could beat my ass like a rented drum, the other could put a crossbow bolt through my brain without me knowing he was there, and the third makes even a Marukani look like an amateur on horseback." A bit wry, at that. "That said, I think it's not mine to tell - at least not yet. Suffice it to say she's had somewhat of a hard life, to the point the *Underworld* is her current place for a luxury vacation."

That made him chuckle, it even *sounded* ridiculous. "If you wish to do the same, by all means. I'm no host to match your efforts in Iron Simhata, but it's still the least I can do."

Chorus Chorus slowly sips her wine, looking contemplative. More so when Ashes recounts what those three Dragons are apparently capable of. She gives him a puzzled look.

"So, let me make sure I got this right..." Leaning forward to put her drink down on the table, then settling back, to count with her fingers: "The Valkyrie might be down, the Manticore doesn't fuck at all, and the Hellhound is off-limits, unless she makes a move on me herself."

Three extended fingers. She holds them up, briefly, before relaxing her hand again, and raises an eyebrow in bewilderment. "I'm starting to wonder why you keep so many of the living in your company. That strange Circle of yours... and now these three. If they don't serve your amusement, what else do you see in them?"

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled A nod to answer her initial statement - then he cocked his head, a tad quizzically. "I would think it obvious. To drown the living in the dead, one must have living alongside the dead - and competence is not reserved *for* the dead. The Valkyrie is a tremendous cavalry commander, The Manticore is one of the best scouts I've ever seen, and The Hellhound is a dyed-in-the-wool killer of men. I simply haven't had cause to muster them alongside the rest of my company."

A pause at that, then a chuckle. "Or, rather, nobody has been able to *afford* what it would cost for an Abyssal with three Dragonblooded lieutenants yet." Waving his hand. "And they tend to be more reliable than nephwracks lost in their own visions and Whispers - no offense meant, Master Promises, your competence has been exceptionally well established."

Chorus The bodyguard, who has dutifully taken up a position close to the door and tries very hard not to listen in on the conversation, bristles at that remark, then bows stiffly in acknowledgement of the praise - to which Chorus gives a delighted laugh.

"Oh, Prom is very competent indeed. But a specter, they aren't." She throws the ghost a long look. "...yet. Sometimes, duty demands more than dedication. Sacrifice, even."

With a wistful sigh, she returns her attention to Ashes, reaching down to untie her sandal straps while she continues to speak.

"I take your point, though. My lady is quite proud of her most prized nephwrack, but some of them can get a little... taken away. And letting the living march alongside the dead, teaching them the chivalry - yes, I can see how well that might work out, for a warlord such as you."

One by one, she kicks off her sandals, and pulls her legs up under her, to shift into a more relaxed, comfortable position in that sturdy, all too big chair. Giving the Dusk a half-smile. "After all, Potentate did the same, didn't he?"

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled A shrug. "Even a stopped clock can be right twice a day." In utter deadpan, relaxing into his seat - a bit of steam escaping from his joints.

"We mock him freely, but I will at least give him credit for choosing reasonably competent subordinates. His son was neither a poor fighter nor tactician, he simply ran into a better one."

A shrug, and it sounded like he was quoting; "War is the realm of uncertainty; three quarters of the factors on which action is based are wrapped in a fog of greater or lesser uncertainty."

Chorus "And isn't that the truth, given how the battle for Iron Simhata played out." The Moonshadow chuckles, wriggling her toes. "Not that I would know much about battles, or wars, for that matter. Your words, or someone else's?"

Her gaze lingers on Ashes' visor for a little longer, before sliding over to her goblet, bouncing back and forth a few times, until she finally decides to reach out and stretch, with some effort, to retrieve her wine from where she left it.

"There's something I wanted to discuss with you, about that particular battle." She tilts her head, throws a look around - scanning the vast office, the ceiling, the shadowy corners. "How secure is this room?"

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled "Not very." He admitted. "I assume everything I say in my manor is heard by my Liege, by and large, but I have guards outside and few care about what I do, regardless."

A lean forward, a quizzical head-tilt. "And a mid-Shogunate general's words, incidentally."

Chorus "Words you've read in a book - or did you talk to that general in person? Do the skulls whisper quotes to you?" Chorus throws him a teasing grin, but lets her mirth fade away a few moments later, falling quiet for a sip of wine or two, and to consider the matter of security.

Eventually, she makes brief eye contact with Shredded Promises over at the door, before nodding at Ashes. "Ah, well. Believe it or not, your liege isn't my primary concern", she says, smiling softly. "I want to talk about certain mysterious actors. The ones who spirited Potentate away. Your reaction in response to their intervention tells me that you might know a thing or two about them..."

She props her elbow up on the armrest, and tilts her head sideways, letting her cheek gradually settle into her palm, golden claws pinching her skin, but not penetrating - pointy they might be, but not sharp enough to draw blood at just a little pressure.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled "They speak more of necromancy and lamentations - along with frequent complaints about a certain Concordat." A tad deadpan, the two skulls actually hanging from his belt. Did they look slightly outraged for a moment? Probably a trick of the candlelight.

At her question, he gave a blink. "I would have thought any of our lords would have...huh." A quizzical tilt, again, but this one more considering. He refilled both goblets, pondering. "A thing or two would be apt. In truth, I know little beyond what the Mask of Winters warns at length about, and mostly that of potentials. Agents of Heaven, agent provocateurs guarding destiny and safeguarding the Realm, occasionally supporting Wyld Hunts, powers over Fate, likely to be at odds with the operations of the dead depending on circumstance. Be wary, be careful, and generally do not let them baulk us."

A long pause. Then a sip of tea. "Also something about teacups and ducks, but he was murmuring at that point and I'm not sure if it was him or the Whispers, admittedly."

Chorus While Ashes talks, the other deathknight sits up straight, sets the goblet down and reaches for her hip, pulling the outer layer of her elaborate garment aside to reveal... another layer. One with pockets!

From there, she retrieves a small notebook, wax tablets bound in leather (dyed a cheerful pink, with flowers painted on the cover), and unlatches a stylus from the strap tying the book together.

At that odd bit about teacups and ducks, Chorus gives the Dusk a sideways look, eyebrows climbing up. "Are you being serious right now, or just fucking with me? Or... no, let me rephrase: Are you sure ~he~ wasn't just fucking with you?"

Grinning, she finds a page with several Riverspeak letters scrawled onto it. "I suspect our lieges' intelligence on those Heavenly Exalted is severely outdated. Shall we compare notes, then, to up our game? We would both benefit from knowing our mutual enemy, no matter where our individual loyalties lie, don't you think?"

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled Another shrug, as he swirled his goblet. "In truth, I ascribed his words more to bias. The information was interspersed with rants about traitors, murderers, betrayers, and other similar epithets - and your observation about outdated information is also probably quite accurate. In truth, I've tried to maintain a...healthy caution? While also leaving a letter to any Heavenly infiltrators on my pavilion desk, should any happen to break in to spy on me." A bit dry, that. If Chorus gave him any kind of Look after that...

"...what? I'm well aware of my social and metaphysical shortcomings for the time being. If a dedicated magical infiltrator wants to break into my war camp, they wouldn't find it too difficult."

Chorus "A ~letter~, huh?"

Indeed, Chorus gives him a look - an utterly flat look, making her thoughts on that matter decidedly difficult to read.

And then, she snorts, not entirely serious anymore, a smirk tugging stubbornly at the corners of her mouth. "At least they're going to have hard time catching you with your pants off." She wags the stylus in the generation direction of his armored form. "Do you sleep like that, too? Wrapped in your cozy metal shell?" A mischievous glint creeps into her eyes. "Do you take it off for other, more interesting activities?"

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled "You'll have to buy me dinner, first." In utter deadpan. "I'm a *gentleman.* You have to romance me properly."

In some ways, that visor was utterly cheating, because if he had a shit-eating grin behind it *she couldn't bloody well see it.*

Chorus A soft clink, caused by Chorus' finger jewelry colliding with her earrings as she makes a fist, tapping it lightly against the side of her face. No matter if he's grinning or not, she definitely is... and making sure he sees her rolling her eyes.

"So you keep saying, like a monk repeating his mantras. I would be more inclined to stop prodding, were you not the one who slammed me against a wall not so long ago." A raucous laugh, dark eyes glinting.

And then, she gestures with her free hand, and shrugs."...but I'm not exactly starved for companionship, so suit yourself." Spoken matter-of-factly, without rancor.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled A huff, amused, steam escaping. "I personally prefer to view it as 'worth more if there's a challenge', myself. Where's the value in the reveal if my armor is doffed at the drop of a hat, hm?"

A slight lean forward. "And I assure you, if I wanted to slam you against a wall again, it wouldn't be you doing the prodding." Cheeky bastard. She could *definitely* hear a shit-eating grin in his voice, as he leaned back in his seat.

"...but, on the subject of Sidereals - I think that's the word? - again, everything I have is either hearsay, ranting from an ancient ghost-tyrant, or what we saw. I reacted strongly during the Siege because I suspected they meant to do something dangerous with him at the time - and in truth, I suspect Heaven has him and is squeezing him for every drop of information they can get about us. We are rather *new*, by and large, Anathema or not."

Chorus Him changing the subject turns out to be a smart move, likely saving him from a salacious retort to his previous words - deliberately telegraphed by Chorus subtly shifting her pose to the side, putting slightly more emphasis on the tilt of her hips, pressing a canine into her lower lip as she fixes Ashes with a cat-like glare, all playful hunger.

And just as quickly, she drops it, leans back a little, and glances at her notes, expression all grave and business-like now.

"I suspect so, too. They crave information - about our nature, our lords, or origin. Yu-Shan is a place of gods and old magic, from what little I know. Without a doubt, they have... facilities... capable of holding even one as mighty as Potentate, or yourself."

She clucks her tongue, tapping a the small tablet in her hands. "So here's what I know. The Sidereals are the Chosen of five very powerful deities, who belong to the so-called Celestial Incarnae. You recognized the sign of Mercury in the sky, didn't you? So you would know who the other four are."

The Moonshadow turns her notebook around, letting him see the five astrological symbols scrawled next to the writing. They have been drawn with little skill, but meticulously nonetheless, recognizable enough.

"They have some... interesting... powers themselves, of which I'm only aware on a surface level. Let's start with the one that's most obvious to our kind, and almost invisible to most others: The Forgetting."

She pauses and scans Ashes' body language for a reaction - to see if that means anything to him.

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled The signs, he recognized, and murmured the names to each - though it seems his awareness of them was from more a theological/occult knowledge base than anything specific to the Sidereals themselves. "Mm. It makes sense, in retrospect. The Incarnae each having their own Exalted - I wonder if further details are held in...certain libraries. I'll need to write some letters, later." Musing, more to himself.

When she'd finished, though, his body language was not quite befuddled, but definitely surprised. "The...forgetting?" Right, his interactions with Sidereals had likely *started* with Divya, and he didn't exactly interact with a lot of people who *also* interacted with them.

Chorus "That's right. The Forgetting." Chorus idly gnaws at the blunt end of her stylus. "That's just what I call it. There's probably a proper word for it. I'm no scholar, though, so forgive me if I use non-scholarly language."

She scribbles something down quickly. "Apparently, the Chosen of Fate suffer from some kind of affliction that causes people to forget all about them, unless they stay close. And when I say people, that includes other Exalted, too - I've witnessed it myself. Some seem to be able to remember them just fine, but even the Sidereals themselves can never be sure if that person is going to recognize them next time they bump into each other."

Chorus looks pensive for a moment, then grimaces. "Ghosts forget about them, too. But there are some exceptions. Our lieges obviously remember them just fine, and no Abyssal I've ever seen interact with a Sidereal has had any trouble remembering them, within the normal confines of their memory." She raises an eyebrow. "I don't know exactly ~why~ that is, but I do have a few theories."

A slow tilt of the head. "So... did you ever encounter a person who others had trouble remembering what they looked like, or attributed their actions to entirely different people, contradicting your own memory in a way that felt utterly wrong?"

Ashes Of A Fire Unkindled A long, *long* pause at that. "...congratulations, you're making me second-guess a great deal of my own pre-Exaltation memories." His body language said annoyance and distinct consternation. "I'm going to need to ponder that one - at *length*. Damn and blast."