But think of the children...
     That is why we're all here, isn't it? Not for diverse and sundry other purposes. Surely that must be it.
     A woman in a sumptuous black gown that reveals quite a bit of cleavage stands in the back, looking at the people filtering in. What she makes of them, no one might know, for the hat she wears comes complete with a thick black veil. A program guide is clutched to her capacious bosom with one elegantly manicured hand.
     There is something here which I want...
     There is something here which I need...
     It is a risk I must face, must take. My Masters will be pleased if I find it...
     I must not get caught.

     A young man eyes the displays, but is careful not to eye one thing more than another.
     A woman and a man linger separate from the rest, along the rail of the ship, looking at the view of San Marco, of Lido and the moon.

     Metallic stilettos, a concoction that only Italy could offer, get stuck in the ship's main plank. But the daughter of Mongolia who wears them does have the grace to keep herself upright. Malakim do not fall, they say, not even if their stilettos get caught. The reputation must be preserved!
     The slender woman is dressed all in white and silver. White pants, silver shoes, a silver and white wraparound silk shirt, and to top it all off Jackie-O glasses perched on her head now that the sun is gone, serving as a hair accessory.
     Brilliance does seem to come with an innate sense of Style...
     Small, metal handbag -- with Italian poster art of the early 20th Century -- is tucked beneath Yisun Inkhe's arm as she wrests herself from the plank's grasp and clips her way to the deck of the ship.

     Two men casually pass a glass of wine back and forth between them, in alternating, shared sips.

     Near the front of the area, closest to The Elisslene, a group of individuals, swarmed by media and lights, talk animatedly and look around as if waiting for direction. In the middle of the group is Daniele Altamonte, new principal of the State Ballet of Venice. Near him is Anastazio Prima, principal at the National in France. They are surrounded by several other dignitaries, including several from the current governmental offices.

     It is such an event on Lido, one of many events on the resort island, to which the rich and the beautiful, the beautiful and the famous, and the beautiful desiring of fame, flock. It is, to say, one event among all events here that is not lacking in beauty...
     And that's just the guests, not to mention the items on display...
     A tall, golden-haired man, dressed impeccably in a suit that Italy is proud of most certainly, walks among the items on display here, looking at each one very carefully, studying, admiring. There is something, maybe, that he wants. He smiles to someone as they pass by, remarking on the splash azure vase.

     The woman in question moves slowly along the rows of items, slinking between other auction-goers with a faint madonna smile beneath the end of the curtain of the veil. Karoly has not been seen for quite some time, but at least, this way, it is her perfect breasts, unravaged by Time and Decay, which shall be remarked upon...
     And not her identity.
     She consults the programme again, murmuring to herself, "I do believe that there is something here which I will desire."
     And, ultimately, that is her motto : what Karoly wants, Karoly gets. Be it an object of art, or ... something more esoteric...
     Her gaze flickers over the other attendants, and for a moment, she taps the programme against her lips. Oh, it's so tempting...

     Laughter bubbles up from the promenade pier.
     The moon shines brightly despite night clouds passing.

     A small man is pulled to Daniele Altamonte's side. He smiles, but seems uncomfortable. Of a priestly set, his collar is visible, though he is in a shabby black coat. He lifts his hand, to shield his aged eyes from the light, but attempts to enjoy the attention he and Daniele are receiving. More than likely, he is from La Pieta.

     Yisun smiles at the sight of the priest, the blinking of -- ha, brilliant -- bulbs in flash. She opens her purse and removes the world's smallest digital camera, the absolute latest, and she takes a picture of that scene as well.
     The image captured is the flickering of flashes, and the priest's blessed and unassuming smile. And that of a pure soul, a dreamer. Yisun lowers the camera and beams.
     She moves among the others here, another beauty among beauty. And clad all in whiteness and brightness, she is a stark contrast to the woman all in black.
     In more ways than one...
     Plucked eyebrows arch upward, a tick of 'interesting' and Yisun glances to the boards of the ship as she moves to take additional shots...

     Beside the well-dressed blonde is Cesare of the bookstore. He's dressed in a black suit with a blue tie, his hands casually clasped behind his back. He stops and looks at the floor vase, nodding at it. "I can't imagine that's fine glass, hmm?" he wonders to his companion, then looks at one of the chairs nearest to the vase.

     Across the canal, a few onlookers wave at the festivities on the island.
     Soon, the crowd of media begins to move as a man moves to motion Daniele over towards the main podium area. Despite the mass confusion, it looks as if things are about to begin.

     Alire draws back a little and turns to his companion, smiling. "I do not know so much about glass." A pause and a deadpan look. "I know that it is blue and that I shall undoubtedly break it if I were to claim it. But," a look again to the vase, "...it would look good in the living room, yes?" He turns again to his companion, smiling warmly. "In the sun, I mean. Some of these things," he lowers his voice to a whisper, "...are very nice pieces, some very expensive I think. I think I may have to bid on ...something... tesoro..."

     Karoly regards the priest's arrival somewhat blandly. Those whom she serves most certainly stand in opposition to the Light - but not the Light of Catholicism, as such. Priests, as such, are only worth noting if they are either dangerous - or desirable. The shabby little man seems neither, to her.
     Other women are regarded aloofly through the veil, as she sizes them up, dissects them, sums them up as worth considering competition, or ... not.
     The blonde man, however... mmm. The woman's lips curve faintly beneath the line of the veil into a small enigmatic smile.

     Yisun arches an eyebrow at the woman in black and raises her camera. A picture taken for study later. And perhaps, yes... another...
      Yisun takes a position, not in one of the chairs to bid, but to the side, where she may get better angles for snapshots of the event. Her charge back in London, she still has one of her jobs to complete.

     A young man gestures and whispers to his friend: "Je veux celui-la la, je pense. Non, peut-etre celui-ci..."

     "That's fine," Cesare replies with a smile, twisting about as the media mass moves towards the front. "Do you want to stand or sit?" he asks, motioning to one of the plastic seats nearby.

     Celebration erupts along Lido's promenade pier, then the sound dwindles as the revelers rush away.
     An attendant moves through the crowd with champagne.

     "Oh... sit," Alire says a moment later, waking from another momentary distraction. One might think the man were a Toreador, I swear. But for the fact that he is a Ventrue who simply loves the act of studying...
     He smiles to Cesare and gestures for him to lead the way to the plastic seats nearby. "Maybe in the back," he whispers. He's tall, he will be able to see just fine.

     "Alright," Cesare responds, finding two seats as he heads towards the rear of the seating area.

     At the front, a chestnut-haired woman leads a crowd of five, to a set of sets to the right of the main dais. A stellar beauty, she appears not of southern decent, but of more northern climes, perhaps Britain. Whoever she is, she appears in a position and with a plan to purchase.

     "Good evening," Daniele Altamonte says as he steps up to the podium. He doesn't expect instant attention, just enough to let the crowd know that things are about to begin. "If you...would take seats, I believe we are..." he looks behind him to someone, then nods eagerly, "...we are ready to start tonight's auction," he smiles, "...and benefit our La Pieta." With pride.

     Cesare receives a thorough, thoughtful examination from underneath the frost-hued eyelashes. Not that her eyelashes are visible beneath that veil. She moves forward, looking over the seats as if searching for a lost companion.
     "Plastic. How ... very manufactured," Karoly murmurs as she eases herself down into one of the seats, daintily crossing one ankle over the other and settling the programme in her lap. In truth, she'd prefer anything which didn't involve too much discomfort - plastic or non-plastic, cotton or polyester, it makes little difference as long as it looks acceptable and feels 'okay'.
     The man begins to speak - oh, good timing, Karoly. She focuses the pale gaze through its black mesh tinting upon the podium. Silver nails tap absently against her black-clad thigh.

     Yisun quietly stands, her back against the body of the ship. Her camera makes no sound, so there is no interruption. She listens, but more importantly she watches, through the reflected eye of her tiny camera...

     Many at the front move about, taking seats or finding standing areas off to the side. The media move, en masse, to a designated area to the left, not so far from many of the items on display. Quickly enough, the host of the evening is the only person left standing at the dais.

     Alire d'Avignon glances to his companion, but he holds his words for now, the auction beginning. Blue eyes glance back and forth from the programme to the displays. And then, more often than not, to his companion.

     Nothing is quite as it appears, is it? Around Karoly, to ... other senses ... there is a dark, pervasive aura. She is not Celestial, nor is she Fallen, but neither is she ... a normal human ...
     She glows, black and white, devoid of colour. Her skin is pale, a faint limning stretched taut over black crackling, and streams of writhing vapour seem to reach from the air immediately around her to attempt to tug at her, gain her attention, or ... worse, held at bay only by that sheen upon the surface tension of her skin.
     That she seems unaware of it, even oblivious to it, is either a magnificent act which she's taken decades to perfect - or whatever skill she has does not well tip towards sight.
     Meanwhile, the woman is looking about herself with slow aloof gaze, regarding the displays, regarding the people ... looking for a target worthy of - acquisition ...

     Christian... She is on board the Elisslene... oh, a good crowd for the auction. That's nice. The children...

     "Alright, good evening...again," Daniele Altamonte says, his smile bright. He's a young man, perhaps all of twenty-three, maybe twenty-five. Tall, lean, and well-muscled, he looks the part of the principal balletist.
     "I am...Daniele Altamonte," he smiles, "...and I am delighted to be the host for tonight. Doubly so...I grew up here in Venezia, not so far from La Pieta and her orphanage, and I have seen so much of the wonderful things that have happened at La Pieta. So, when Signore Paschl of La Pieta's Board Committee called me, well," Daniele smiles at presumably Signore Paschl and then to the priest, "I was thrilled to say 'yes'..."

     Alire inclines his head, looking over the chairs on display again. O, temptation!

     "Everyone associated with tonight's auction," Daniele laughs, pulling out a sheet of paper, "...would like to thank the organizers and event managers for the event from Le Speziale. We should like to thank also all of the families, individuals and businesses who have so generously provided the items that many of you have been considering tonight. They are truly lovely and we are so appreciative..."

     Soft applause rises from the audience.

     A woman and a man linger separate from the rest, along the rail of the ship, looking at the view of San Marco, of Lido and the moon.

     "...also we'd like to thank Scane Couture for the design and decor tonight, and Marucci's for handling of the auction items and their care for the last few weeks," Daniele goes on to explain.
     "Lastly, we'd like to thank Fra Spero, the Pastore of La Pieta and rector of the orphanage. We thank him for his commitment for the last thirty years to orphaned children of our city, to those in our community that so many of us pass and never truly see." Daniele turns to Fra Spero who sits at the dais, and adds, "We thank you for doing what we cannot or do not. And tonight, we wish to show our support of you and everyone's efforts at La Pieta Orphanage, and we wish to continue your work."

     Listening to the words - they're meaningless, really. Karoly has heard them, heard words just like them, so many times over the years. She changes herself - she got lazy once, and lucky after. The full details of that little slip-up, even Johann never admitted...
     A pale gaze which once was dark focuses on the priest and the speechmaker with restless intent.
     There must be something here ...
     One does not, after all, come to orphan auctions without purchasing an orphan ...

     More applause and a few shouts come from the crowd as Fra Spero smiles and bobs his head, adjusting his glasses nervously.

     "And so," Daniele goes on, oblivious to the minutiae of the chaos of existence spread before him in the audience, "...everyone, take a last quick look at the lovely, lovely items," now Daniele goes into hosting, hawking mode, "...that I know many of you desire immensely." He laughs and few in the audience laugh with him. "Refresh your drinks, and we will begin with the first item in a moment."

     An older man studies the programme, looking up to the displays as he reads.

     A girl in a skirt and jacket uniform with a badge emblazoned 'Marucci's' at her pocket, leans in and sets an index card on the podium at Daniele's hand.

     Not so far from the chestnut buyer's crowd, a tall blonde takes a seat. Sebastian De Rancey looks around, as if he's expecting to see someone he knows.

     Whispers heard: "Stasera, dopo questo... andiamo ballare... Desidero tenerlo... prego..."

     At the front, with the ship as the backdrop, two docents walk about the displays, making sure everything is secured.

     Daniele turns about at the girl's approach, and picks up the card left to him. He scans it for a moment, as another girl from his left walks over with a velvet case holding a jeweled peacock. The case is turned towards the audience and displayed.

     Sebastian and Genevieve. Alire glances up from the programme and from his companion just in time to see the other huge blonde in attendance take a seat. And who could miss that woman. A treasure to Europe.

     Yisun steps carefully, care taken to be quiet, to get a better angle. Ah, one with San Marco in the background -- yes...

     He slips in late, for the occasion, but on time for what will come. His black shoes are silent upon the floor, carrying him to an empty seat near the back. Sand hair, pulled carefully back, leads a braided line to a tailored suit of blackest blue that conjures a sensation of the deepest oceans. Elegant fingers fold together, resting on his knee, as the man begins his appraisal; not of the items, but of the occasion.
     He is here as Witness, and only if Time permits will he participate.
     The irresponsible side of him is hoping that he can participate.
     Sapphire eyes pass their gaze over the display; even at this distance he can has no trouble seeing the details. Idly he considers gathering a thought towards bidding, knowing that such items would be thoroughly useless to him. Perhaps he could drop them on some unsuspecting middle class corporate wage slave somewhere.
     Thmetallicese thoughts ramble by, silently, behind a face showing only mild interest in the proceedings.

     In the thin realities of the mind, there is no voice, but instead a feeling. A sense of immediacy, fueled by a surge of energy.

     One figure here beams, Witness... more brilliantly than the others... if eyes that Look are turned to Seeing. The woman in white and silver, crouching to get a textured angle, a framed shot of participants, onlookers, beneficiaries and in the furthest point, the play of light upon a basilica's dome...
     ... On of these things is definitely not like the others...
     Can I get a witness?
     Yisun rises and she turns, eyes narrowing at a feeling. For now, she places the tiny digital camera back in to her tiny metallic purse.

     "Thank you," Daniele says to the young model. "This is our first item for the night -- I know several of you have remarked on this, so do not be so hesitant," Daniele smiles, before inhaling and going on, ""Melding sinewy line with exquisite enamel detail, this jewelers art of the Guild takes its graceful cue from the stately peacock. Since the peacock is prized for its feathers, Michelene Pozzi's colorful enameled metalwork brooch contains azure and emerald gemstones."
     "This is a lovely item. We are," Daniele reads his card, "...to start the bidding for this peacock at twelve-hundred euros."

     And almost immediately, there's a nod from the chestnut-haired woman -- someone called her Jezebel -- towards the middle-front and right of the room.

     Somewhere else in Venice, a dark-clad figure with pale hair is morosely listening to his companions discuss what would be fun to do next. He is not in Venice to have fun. He will not have fun except against his will. Well, perhaps it's not quite so thoroughly thought out as all that.
     He is unaware of what is unfolding in other places...

     Karoly looks slightly alert of a sudden. Apparently, she has a fondness for peacocks...
     Or perhaps it's something else. She seems in no immediate rush to depart, rather, leaning to seize a glass of champagne from the trays being passed about.

     "Thank you, madama," Daniele smiles at the lady. "We have our opening bid of twelve-hundred. Please," his hand extending, inviting the bids to continue.

     Alire leans over to whisper to Cesare, "Che cosa pensate, il mio tesoro bello... il..." what is the word! "...peacock?" He smiles but does not yet lift his programme or nod his head or give obvious sign of bidding after Genevieve.

     Cesare frowns slightly and smirks, shaking his head negatively at Alire. "This auction is for you to buy," Cesare says softly, "...I am here just to see about La Pieta." Meaning he has no plans to buy, apparently. "I mean, this is...a little much on my budget. I am not the man I was, you know..." of wealth and means. That gets a laugh before Cesare looks up at the dais ahead.

     A man's hand at the left of the room lifts.

     Light plays across the Witness' skin, to those that See, as sunlight cast through waves; a counterpoint to the unseen black miasma around Karoly. And there is a stillness, there, so still that Time itself seems to hold its breath -- evidenced by the slow loss of time that wristwatches are beginning to suffer.
     He nodes his head, and raises one hand to catch the Auctioneer's attention. He shall not buy, but at least he will draw the price higher.

     A most unusual crowd we have gathered here...there is Alire, with some very handsome young man...they seem... close. Hmm... I shall have to speak with Gisela and Constanz... Ah, another time... She is still there... but... she seems a little... agitated... Good...

     So fast! Daniele barely has time to acknowledge one hand, before another lifts. "Thank you, signore," he smiles at the last offer. "We are at fourteen-hundred euros."

     Jezebel murmurs with her associates, and one of them next to her, a woman in grey, nods her head in acceptance of the current price.

     Alire smirks to Cesare and straightens again. "Not you, tesoro, me...and... I will save myself for the chairs," he murmurs. "I should hold myself back, yes..."

     "Fifteen, sixteen," Daniele says, not really comfortable. He's far slower than a professional. "We are seeking now sixteen," the balletist says, then leans to murmur at an official behind his shoulder. More than likely a professional from Marucci's.

     Sipping at her champagne, Karoly half-closes her eyes behind the crosshatching of black veil. Is it not fitting, appropriate, that she should see the world through dark gauze? But perhaps there is some other purpose behind her widow's weeds...
     One elegantly beringed and braceleted hand comes to just under her chin, programme in her lap. No - not so much interest in peacocks after all...

          She's there? In Venezia? And you will tolerate this?

     Who said I am tolerating it? I cannot both watch and hit at the same time, amice... not even I...

     Two more affirmations from somewhere in the crowd. "We are at eighteen. Eighteen-hundred for the peacock brooch. It is...of a Guildmaster," Daniele explains cheerily enough from his card. He looks up to the audience again.

     Edward...

     Sebastian deRancey exhales and nods his head. In a dark blue suit, his blonde hair is striking against his tailored shoulders.

     Alire glances to Cesare, but keeps his programme on his suited lap. No, no... it is just the first item. You should let this one go, d'Avignon. It is lovely. And it is for charity...

     "Nineteen, thank you, sir," Daniele says, nodding at the tall blonde. "Two-thousand euros!" Daniele cheers. "For this spectacular peacock of the guildmaster."
     Apparently it happens suddenly. Daniele's eyes widen as he looks to the right and nods. "Madama, thank you again. Two-thousand, we have."

     Confusion. Bleariness...
     "Who's that? I really hate telepathy," Edward grumbles silently.

     "Two-thousand going once," Daniele says, prompted by the gentleman behind him. "Two-thousand. Do we have twenty-one?"

     He nods his head to raise the bid higher, sapphire eyes sparkle, and lighten slightly in amusement. Perhaps he will purchase after all.

     The dignitaries at the front dais are enthused. Far more than they expected. Fra Spero, however, smiles politely and drinks from his glass of water presented to him.

     Edward, it is Antonio... I need you.... at Lido Island... I cannot go myself... and there is something you must take care of...

     What? I'm...on duty at the palace, Girault. And how do I know it's you anyway?

     Yisun glances behind her as she takes a gingerly placed side-step, making sure to negotiate her stilettos as she goes. She moves out of the way of someone else watching, smiling then turning to watch the bidding and to glance over to Fra Spero from time to time.
     He's such a good man...

     "Two-thousand going twice," Daniele says, picking up his wooden auctioneer's clap in his palm.

     He had gone unnoticed, and so begins to gently raise one hand before the auctioneer's gavel can strike three. But, he thinks better of it. 'Allow it to go' his inner voice tells him, and he listens.

     Near the display, the rococo chair is moved into general viewing.

     "I'm sorry sir," Daniele says, blinking wildly. The professional behind him looks over to the sapphire-eyed man, then whispers at the guest auctioneer for the night. "Do I see twenty-one there?"

     The image of Girault is one of comfortable half-dress, shirt undone with lovely Italian trousers and, of course, shoes from God's own cobbler. The pointed look and then the image fades away. 'This job is more important... the murderess of Saarbrucken... go to Lido...'

     The man smiles, and gently waves aside the comment. It is an acceptance of the apology, and a gesture to let the bid stand at two thousand.

     Lido?! And that image isn't special, Girault. Anyone can do an image of you...
     It'll take me a few minutes to get down there. Christ. What in the hell do you think I'm supposed to do? Grab her in a public place?

     There's a nod from Daniele, and a nod from the auctioneer. A first mistake of the night. The balletist sighs, and goes on, "We stand at two-thousand...and the peacock goes to the lady at the right, for two-thousand euros."
     The clap hits the podium, closing the sale of the peacock.

     The woman in grey with Jezebel smiles, and the team there nods affirmatively about their purchase.

     No... you are to keep her from killing anyone... particularly the Prince of Poitiers, also in attendance... she is watching him. I am watching over the ship... and when the auction is through, unless she tries to leave before, bring her here to me. Alive, if you can manage it... if not, I will understand, amice.

     Alire smiles and applauds quietly. Nicely done, Genevieve. As always...

     There is general clapping as another card is passed to Daniele and he talks to the official behind him.

     A woman grips the hand of her companion and whispers: "Desidero che ho avuto piu euro!"

     Unaware of the silent conversations going on around her, Karoly sips at her champagne while glancing around. No easy targets for ... acquisition...
     Perhaps some item will come up to the block. If not, well - a pleasant afternoon's diversion - and she will find -something- so that she does not leave empty-handed.
     Or so she thinks.

     "I'll be there asap, Girault."

     I will alert you, of course, if anything changes in the interim, amice...

     "The next item," Daniele announces, "...is the splendid rococo chair. It is donated by the Sforzi family, in honor of their grandfather. This chair, in fact, is part of a set of two in the rococo style. The bidding will begin at sixteen-hundred euros."

     There's a frown from Cesare as he exhales and fishes something from his pocket. His brows arch and he turns to Alire, saying, "A moment, bello. I...need to take this."
     Apparently, a silent phone call.

     A man at the left rear of the room lifts a hand on the chairs. It's followed by four other quick nods and affirmations.

     This time, Karoly's hand goes up, and she leans forward with a graceful sweep of her veil. Chairs?
     Well, even she needs to sit, one supposes.

     Alire glances to Cesare and smiles. Of course, tesoro. He nods and looks back to the chair. The bidding is opened at sixteen-hundred euros, ah, and the bidding has begun....

     Fra Spero takes another sip from his glass of water, then looks out towards the rear of the audience absently, as if staring into space. Granted, such glitz and fanfare at not the usual setting for a humble priest, and so perhaps his absent gaze is best left unremarked upon.

     Cesare nods and stands from his seat, moving around behind his companion's chair at the rear of the room. He turns his back on the scene and goes quiet, listening to something.

     Daniele seems slightly befuddled by the sudden hands everywhere. "Um," Daniele laughs, causing a few to chuckle around him, "...please hold. We are...thank you everyone...are now at two-thousand euros," a nod to Karoly's last-placed bid. "Two-thousand after a start of sixteen hundred. Two-thousand on these rococo chairs of the Sforzi..."

     Alire raises his programme...

     Hands fold back down, rest upon his knee -- he has no interest in chairs. Karoly's bid draws his eyes, and he regards her for a moment -- watching the dancing veil of black air that surrounds her. He frowns slightly, seeing how Time is held back from her. The frown is pitying, more than anything else. 'One wonders what she gave up for that?' his inner voice asks of him, knowing what he gave up for his current existence.

     "Twenty-one," Daniele blinks at Alire, nodding. "Signiore at the rear has agreed to twenty-one hundred euros. Thank you, sir..."

     Yisun glances among those gathered here, lastly to the chairs up for bid...

     Cesare continues to listen on his phone, but he turns about to face the front of the audience again. A hand comes to rest on Alire's shoulder, and his brown eyes look left and right among those in the crowd.

     Mild, polite clapping rises from the audience as the bidding on the rococo chairs climb.

     You will not be able to miss her... the woman... is clothed in black, beautiful but she wears a veil... be wary of her, Edward... she is very powerful, has shown herself to be very crafty and cunning... and she is not above decapitation in a public setting...

     Startled, perhaps, Karoly turns to glance to see who it is that is bidding against her. When she spots Alire, the enigmatic smile returns, and she gazes upon him for a long moment, then turns to lift her programme again.
     Ah, well, we are in Venice. We may flirt over bidding as easily as anything else...

     "Antonio...you're going to have to stop. I need to think, and I can't do that if you're constantly in my head." And it's pissing him off.
     "I am...doing what I can..."
     "Yes, yes, I am still here," his head says, though it may be verbal as well.

     Another few hands or eyebrows must go up, for Daniele's head moves left, right, left in rapid succession. The auctioneer has stepped up directly at Daniele's ear. "Um," Daniele says suddenly, "...twenty two, three, four..." he announces to all, not indicating from where the bids come.

     Alire glances back as his shoulder as the hand lands there, there is a brief quirk of a smile, but then another round of bids. He turns back quickly, lifting his programme again...

     "We are looking now for twenty-five hundred," Daniele clears up. "Would anyone care to bid twenty-five..."

     "Non sono esso meraviglioso e la nave..."

     His curiousity sated, the sapphire eyes turn back to watch the auctioneer and the event's hosts.

     Sebastian deRancey continues to sit, then opens his programme as everyone seems to do this evening. The chairs hold no interest for him, apparently, though the woman in grey with Jezebel turns around and gives Sebastian a wave. She's suddenly realized that he's there.

     "Twenty-five..." Daniele repeats again for the crowd, as several have to take stock of their bids and what's left still in the evening.

     Oh, how terribly tedious. He's with someone.
     Karoly brushes at her veil in faint irritation, turning her hidden gaze back to the bidding and the chairs. She's lost interest in the items, as spiteful as a cat, snubbing a dish of food formerly coveted.

     "A friend is there, Girault. With the Prince," Edward explains. "I will get there as fast as I can. I think the Prince will be well now..."

     Grazie, amice... be careful...

     "Sir, thank you," Daniele points at Alire. Whew. He almost missed that. "We have twenty-five. Twenty-six for these Sforzi rococo chairs..."

     Alire smiles pleasantly at the guest auctioneer. It is a tough job, yes? Alire settles back and glances around to see if there will be any more bids. Lastly, he looks to the woman in black.

     Laughter bubbles up from the promenade pier.

     It's amazing how such things work. The earth would rumble, if it were something so corporeal, so of this earth. But it's not. It comes in the spaces outside of the reach of mortal clay. The crackling of the air, as if an engine's been fired up. Sparkling and tense, the churning is magical of some nature, and not so far away from this locale.

     Daniele looks serious as he scans the room, trying to pay better attention to all the nuances. Granted, he'd had a crash course, but this? This is nothing like the training rooms of Marucci's. "The gentleman in blue has bid twenty-five. Can I have twenty-six, please?"

     Fra Spero's gaze at something at the back suddenly returns to the immediacy of the dais. He looks around and takes another drink of his water.

     The woman in black stiffens slightly, but doesn't raise her programme - or her champagne. Indeed, though she's suddenly alert, she's twisting in her seat, as if looking for an overdue acquaintance...
     What is that? I feel it. Someone else must be doing something - but who? Is that what I was sent here to collect?
     Karoly doesn't burst out of her seat, but she does begin to collect herself, departure evidently soon.

     Daniele looks at Karoly, as he's aware of the crowd's sudden movements. Oh. But that's not a bid. "Twenty-five once..." he begins, the last bid belonging to Alire.

     She is ... moving... she appears to be preparing to leave... one prince may be safe, many others unsafe... But I have her... I will follow her to the very moment she is no longer able to move...

     Cesare closes the phone and slips it back into his pocket. He didn't say much, if anything, to whomever was on the call. His hands come free, but he remains behind the bidding Alire, content to stand for now.

     "Twenty-five twice..." Daniele calls, the crowd starting to murmur at the pending sale of the lovely rococo chairs. And from the Sforzi, even!

     Yisun glances around, it is a strange crowd. There is something... about it. It does not feel right. She cradles her metallic purse tucked beneath a silken arm. She glances to Sebastian, lifting eyebrows slightly, and then she moves to maybe get a different view...

     Others tense as the energy enters the room, but not so the Witness -- he relaxes. He breathes out, and his soul becomes as lead; heavy, draining. He is like a sink: letting the air lose its electricity, draining away from near. He does nothing about the rest of the room, however; merely extending his Stillness to his immediate surroundings.

     Sebastian winks at the woman in grey, and then suddenly, Jezebel turns to see the commotion, waving as well. Apparently the tall blonde is popular. He wiggles his brows, and then returns to his programme, seemingly bored.

     "Sold!" Daniele cheers, smiling at Alire, "...to the gentleman in the far back. Two rococo chairs. Thank you so much, signore..." His clap comes down on the wooden dais, much louder and more confident than last time.

     Alire smiles, nodding his head, and then he returns his attention somewhere between the man behind him and the programme. He'll pass on the Cathedral chair but the Glastonbury... he may have to go for that...

     The clapping is louder this time, many hands sounding quickly at the sale of an exquisite item.

     Now that she may, Karoly rises, thrusting the champagne to one of the waiters circling like vultures to seize upon the carrion of empty glasses. Hers is only slightly touched, but she's done with it.
     Her heels click quietly upon the cool floor, her widow's weeds floating around her as she makes her way from the chairs (plastic, really, how appropriate) and the pale gaze, once dark, seeks the closest exit.
     With a flutter and tremble of veil, Karoly begins stalking the source of that energy, all the while unaware that she herself may be considered prey.

     "And now, the next item," Daniele says, accepting the card from one of the two girls helping him. "The Splash Azure Vase...in the climbing wave shape." The floor vase is moved to public viewing, gleaming blue in the dim light.

     Cesare taps Alire on the shoulder, a comforting touch. But then he leans down and says something softly at Alire's ear. "I will be back...Prince Alire..." Something coded in that.

     Edward...she's on the move...

     His hand is rising before the Auctioneer even finishes. That is something he would buy, even if it isn't something he would keep. He cannot resist themes of water, in anything whether they be music or art. And around him, the Stillness creeps outward, grounding the unwelcome energies in the room in a slowly widening circle that smells faintly of ocean mist.

     "Shite, Girault, I'm not quite there yet...."

     Alire turns a little in his chair, giving full attention to Cesare. He nods briefly, but is curious. Where are you going, tesoro? But there is no move to stop him. Alire nods again.

     "The opening bid on this lovely vase," Daniele reads from his card, "...eight-hundred euros. In the tradition of art glass masters, Bronti has created this splendid work that is actually crystalline resin of azure blue. Like molten glass, the graceful, organic form of Splash Azure is showcased atop a black museum mount. Lovely for any collection. Another of the guildmasters' works."
     And a hand up already? Daniele blinks and nods slowly, if curious at the bidder. "Thank you...signiore. We have the opening bid. Nine-hundred?"

     Do not worry... I will not lose her, amice... so far... she is still on the island... you have a chance...

     Seeking the source...
     Art is forgotten, in the light of a gleam of some other inquisitive acquisitiveness...
     Karoly glances back for a moment. Pity. It's quite pretty, really - something of particular interest to her, the potter, the erstwhile owner of Saarbrucken's premier gallery...
     But there will be time for such things when she is not being driven by her Masters' urgings, this frozen witch of the North. She turns, nostrils flaring beneath the veil, seeking the smell of magic.

     Karoly... the following issues between your own ears... on your own blood... however-so old it may...or may not... be
     Don't you wish that everything could be as beautiful as in ... Saabrucken... hmm... my dear... or do you ...have no head... for art after all...

     As with all security, exits are visible, if limited. And being an island, well, it's worse. The rear opening of the roped event space is still there, and a few people come in late, and others leave as well. The security at the auction rope-gate speak to each other and look around the area, but they do not actively hinder departure...though invites, passes, and other identification are checked for those still arriving late.

     There's no response from Cesare. His hands slip from Alire's shoulder and he takes a step backwards into the standing-room only throng that's immediately behind the last seats, though plastic.

     A woman's hand at the very front left of the audience lifts in response to Daniele's call.

     From the pier, the plaintive plea of a young man: "Appena un bacio, Juliet, appena uno!"

     "Thank you," Daniele smiles, "...nine-hundred. Thousand," a nod to another part of the room. "Eleven..."

     Beneath the veil, there is a widening of pale eyes. Once, she had rich dark hair, and eyes as warmly brown as chocolate, as rich as if they could be savoured. Karoly had to do much, however, to don her disguise...
     She comes to a halt, still turned to the exit, glancing over her shoulder.
     That is not the voice of Decay...
     Nor is it the voice of any of Those Whom I Serve...
     There are small magics which she could do, but they would make her the more easily noticed - if she has not been seen by all, already, of course. There is a gamble to be placed - decisions to be made. One jewel-encrusted hand waves the programme, fanning her face as if the air had just become too close for her.
     Then she turns, chin tilted, head tilted, and raises her programme.

     "Eleven!" Daniele calls, pointing at the rear of the space, where those standing, stand. Those moving, have the limited space in which to move. "Thank you," he smiles, nodding. "Twelve-hundred from the audience, please? This lovely azure vase..."

     The Witness raises his hand again, to bid on the vase. He will have it. Or not, really, as his whims are rather mercurial.

     At the entrance/exit, a man arrives. And there's nothing special about that, save he's rather well-built. Immediately, a hand comes to his chest as one of the security there stops his entrance to the auction space, and the very late arrival simply looks over at the hand's owner, raising a brow.
     Well built? That's an understatement.

     "Twelve, sir, thank you," Daniele acknowledges, nodding at the sapphire-eyed man. "We are at twelve-hundred for this magnificent piece. I am told that the colors in the glass are created by adding various chemicals at multiple stages in the firing process..."
     As if he knows. He does ballet for a living.

     Again, Karoly raises her programme, features as cold as marble beneath the veil. Perhaps there is some other motive. Perhaps not.

     Yes, I would be nervous too, if I were you. The voice continues, Karoly. How dare you show yourself upon the continent again. Your life is forfeit, your very presence a disgrace to all those who have lived and who have died better than you have or shall. And to think... you made it all the way to London only to die at the hands of your own arrogance... There is a moment of nothingness, a comfort?

     Cesare touches his head as he moves within the observing throng that's forced to stand. There are no 'excuse mes' offered to those he increasingly shoulders of out his way. And the light of day is soon visible...

     Alire watches the bidding for the glass vase. The one he was admiring earlier. But the tall blonde seems to have changed his mind...

     "Thirteen!" Daniele calls to the lady at the rear again. Why is everyone so far back? And getting further so. Daniele nods at Karoly - a nice looking lady - then looks over at the sapphire-eyed man, who seems to have such interest in this piece. "Fourteen, anyone?"

     At the entrance/exit, the hand lowers from the late arrival's chest. Smiles are exchanged. And the arrival soon enters the rear of the space, looking around for someone. A friend, perhaps?

     He delays a moment before nodding to the fourteen, wanting the vase. He will draw the moment, but he will outbid all-comers. He has decided.
     The ocean mist that surrounds him is plainly visible to those with Sight, it dampens magic and drains away the energy around him. It is calmness, stillness, patience given form.

     Sebastian deRancey lifts his hand low near those he's seated. He simply wants a drink from the passing waiter, not to call attention as a bidder. The waiter, keen enough to tell the difference, stop and does offer a glass of champagne.

     "Fourteen," Daniele says suddenly, not fully acknowledging the direction of the bid. The professional stands by, looking slightly bemused at the bidding for a glasswork.

     Perhaps it is the distance she's placed between herself and the man with the sapphire eyes. But Karoly feels no peace, though there is a sharp sting of anger for a moment - something in what she hears which angers her...
     The programme comes up, even as her other hand circumscribes a demure symbol upon her black-clad hip. The contours of her mind shift, blocks sliding into a new configuration - one which allows her to phrase her thoughts, whether or not they are heard, without so much of an undercurrent of panic...
     I do not know your identity, but you presume to know me. You do not. There is none who know me who yet live.
     All which Karoly permits to seep through is coldness, the frigid biting chill of the winters past. Europe is warmer than once it was, and it is an older winter than Europe presently sees, which she represents. But there is nothing of herself in it - wherever her true self is, altered by magic now or merely hidden, it is not in her thoughts.
     If I die, then so be it. I am willing to parley with those who would kill me, but I shall not beg. If you have only interest in toying, then I assure you, there are those who have toyed with me in the past...

     At Karoly's side, a man stands. Cesare, he's known to those who know him. For those who do not, he is but an attractive Italian, in his late twenties, perhaps. Dressed in a black suit and blue tie -- royal blue, in fact. Hand that had been on his forehead has dropped in some relief to his side, but his right hand touches Karoly left arm, fingers curling around her wrist. In that sudden connection, Cesare murmurs at the lady's ear.

     I am not toying with you, my dear, I am only delaying you... Karoly, murderess of Johannes Arnaul of Saarbruken. My name is Toreador, and I have come for the blood you owe me...

     Yisun tilts her head at the blue glass spectacle. Eyebrows knitting together, she puckers her lips and... raises her hand.
     A gift for Soldekai...

     His hand raises for although he does not look at Karoly he knows that she has bid. The auctioneer hasn't even reacted to her yet.
     Whispering low, he lets it be known he isn't oblivious to the proceedings behind him: a breath of wind rises from silence and rustles Karoly's black veil and shifts Cesare's hair. It whispers but two words: "Have care."

     Daniele says casually, "Fifteen...sixteen," he affirms the two bids following each other. Daniele nods, perhaps finally getting into his element! Sod ballet!

     There is a sharp, surprised jerk - Karoly is unaccustomed to being touched without her consent at all, regardless of who. Beneath the veil, there is a narrowing of pale eyes in Cesare's direction. However, she stills almost immediately.
     "The Marquis of Infantada, I presume," Karoly murmurs in a cold, biting voice. "I strongly suggest that you release me."
     I do not know you, though it seems that you have the bullfighter's instinct. A delay is still to toy. Despite the frigid fury below the thoughts, the notion is presented coldly, aloofly. What occurred between Johann and myself is of no moment to bullfighters. My debts have been paid in blood already, whoever you might be.

     The next voice doesn't seem so polite, and it's from behind. "You're not in a position to suggest anything," the voice in German, though twinged French. English? The man seems not worried about boundaries. He stands, much like a brick wall, behind Karoly.
     "We're going to leave quietly and not disturb the nice festivities, yes?" he says softly.

     To toy is the lion's prerogative, not the mouse's. Welcome to Venice, city of Lions, Karoly. As for the man at your side... do as he tells you. One cry from your throat and I will crush your heart where you sit...

     Cesare quirks a moment, his brown eyes narrowing and widening as he looks at Edward Meurelle. He'd say, 'it's about time you showed up', but he's only here as support. The Italian remains quiet, looking back at Karoly again without responding to her comment.

     Daniele's gaze suddenly shifts to Yisun. That's a new bidder. "Signorina, thank you. A bid of seventeen-hundred euros from the lady here." Almost immediately, Daniele looks to the sapphire-eyed man and then...where'd she go...oh, in the crowd...to Karoly.

     Yisun glances around the room, but is now focused on having that piece of blue ...whatever it is. This is fun! Do mortals do this all the time?

     The veiled woman's eyes narrow again, but she says nothing. There is nothing to be said, after all; if the features were not hidden, perhaps there would be fear, or anger, or ... something stamped upon them.
     As it is, Karoly simply makes a very slight gesture with her free hand, as if ordering a new arrangement of flowers. "After you, then, sir," she answers the men, in flawless German, of an older sort. "Since it would be most rude to not bracket me in accompaniment."
      I do as I must. The thought is sere and automatic, but there is a thread unraveling below that, a well of emptiness. Karoly's thoughts seem to be receding further into her own mind - for scheming, perhaps...

     Entering from the back through the appropriate ropes to take a seat in the back as not to disturb, the young Dr. Gifford arrives to the auction. Unusual for her not to be punctual for those who may know her. However, she instead glances at her program to see what item is up for bid, taking a chair off the isle quietly.

     There is a new bidder who draws the sapphire gaze. No, you shall not have this, his gaze conveys. His hand raises. /It is mine./

     "We've got her, Girault, if you can hear me. Can you hear me? Shite, how DO you turn this on. Fuck. Whatever. We're going to walk her out. I suggest you get down here or...tell me what you want me to do with her..."

     I can hear you, amice... bring her across the canal. To the Doge's Palace... I am there... I want to find out more about her master before I require her obliteration from the universe... every bitch answers to a whistle...

     Cesare exhales and slides his arm further into Karoly's, as if her companion. 'Walk with me', his gaze says, as he turns them both about to head towards the entrance/exit. "Please," is what the polite young Italian says, as he steps off in the faux promenade towards departure.

     Edward grins. There's a gentility about the man, though something more ominous roils beneath. Where the Italian appears almost sweet, with this other, well, this is all business. "Let's go," Edward says, leaving out introductions, and takes up a position a step ahead on the other side of Karoly.

     "Eighteen from the gentleman at the rear," Daniele faux-bows, bobbing his head. "We are at eighteen-hundred euros for this lovely, lovely glass sculpture." Okay, now Daniele's winging it. "Is there nineteen?"

     What the heck. Victoria raises her paddle, bidding on the lovely glass thingie. It's glass, after all, she doesn't want to not bid on it. That would be... wrong... probably.

      There is no external sign of debate from Karoly, simply the cool marble-like exterior as she's escorted out by Cesare and Edward. Either she is oddly resigned to her fate, or ...

     Who is that? Daniele squints and nods at the arriving young lady. "Nineteen. Is there twenty for this lovely guildmaster's vase? This vase," Daniele reads from his card, "...was premiered in Strasbourg at the festival in 2005 and has been in private hands since. We thank the donors for this generous offering to the auction for La Pieta tonight..."

     Yisun bites upon her lower lip, making a brief screwball Lucille Ball sort of expression. Nineteen? Twenty? After a moment's deliberation, she raises her hand.

     He really should have seen this coming: show interest in something, and other people will start bidding. Isn't this how these things work? He really should have known; he of all people.
     His hand raises. He will just have to outbid two people now.

Posted by rowan at February 29, 2004 07:42 PM