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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Shemeska" data-source="post: 3835432" data-attributes="member: 11697">Phaedra gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She really wanted to look good, but at the same time she didn’t want to look too good, and end up with the ‘loth getting the wrong idea.    “Nice dress…” Inva said as she walked up to the same mirror and pursed her lips to apply some lipstick.    It really was a nice dress, Phaedra thought as she looked down at it and the way it fell on her figure; it was incredibly flattering, and well beyond her means to own. The dress wasn’t actually woven from any sort of traditional fabric. Rather, it was made from tens of thousands of tiny glass and metal beads, strung upon gossamer-thin wire or maybe something more exotic still, because whatever it was it had a noticeable elasticity in places, and hung free without such in other places where necessary to fit her figure. Admittedly, the fit wasn’t initially perfect; the dress had been tailored for another woman originally, and while she’d possessed a vaguely similar body, Phaedra was a bit taller, and a bit stockier than whoever had first worn the gown.    Next to her, Inva perked an eyebrow and slipped the tip of her tail under a loose fold of the dress, briefly lifting it an inch, feeling the fabric and then letting it drop back down again. Ever so briefly –before she hid it- there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes.    “Phae darling,” She asked. “Where did you get that dress? It fits you like a glove.”    Not originally it didn’t, but fifteen minutes in front of the mirror and the innate ability to shapechange solved that issue. It might have hugged every curve of its original owner, but with a bit of magic, it nearly did the same for Phaedra.    “It’s something my dad gave me.” She replied. “A bit of an odd present normally, but it’s above and beyond anything else I have to wear that’s formal. He knew who we were going to meet, so believe me, I didn’t press him on the issue. You like?”    Phaedra turned around to let Inva have a full look at her wearing the gown, and to be certain the half-‘loth relished the chance to show off in front of the tiefling, especially so dolled up as she was.Inva rather enjoyed the view –and her expression showed it- but as she admired the somewhat fiendish eye candy, she blinked and suddenly realized where she’d seen that dress before. Two centuries had dulled her memory of the topic, and she’d never personally met the woman who’d worn the dress, but it was difficult to forget it as having been the favorite gown of the previous King of the Crosstrade, Shemeska the Marauder. Someway, somehow, Phaedra had it and was going to be wearing it when they met the man who very likely had a hand in killing its previous owner.“You look fetching.” Inva replied, not saying what she’d realized. “And more than a bit tempting.”    Phaedra smiled. “And I should say the same for you.”    In contrast to Phaedra, Inva was dressed in a much tighter outfit, and one that left little to the imagination though it remained tasteful nonetheless. A dark crimson corset was cinched around Inva’s torso, presenting more than ample cleavage to the world, while below that she wore red leather breaches that accentuated every curve there as well.    Inva paused and debated over what select bits of jewelry to wear, asking Phaedra’s opinion, and inwardly relishing the fact that more than once she caught the half-‘loth admiring her. Of course she was doing the same whenever Phaedra wasn’t looking, she was just trying to be a bit subtler about it. Though they hadn’t formally acknowledged it or even sat down and discussed it, they were an item, or fast becoming one and their looks and attitude towards each other made it obvious.    “Well,” Inva said as she blotted her lipstick. “We’re dressed to kill, but should I worry about our impression getting sullied by any of the others ability or lack thereof to be socially presentable?”    Phaedra chuckled. “Don’t worry about Velkyn at least. He might top us in terms of knowing how to impress, and oddly enough I’m not worried about Marcus.”    Inva gave a look of surprise, “Really?”“He’s got enough background to know when to dress up, and how to do so. I’m not worried about him being underdressed.”The tiefling quirked an eyebrow, “So long as he doesn’t put his foot in his mouth we’ll be fine then I suppose. And the others?”    Phaedra shrugged and leaned forward as Inva helped her fasten the clasp of a necklace. “I’ve known them for a little over a week, and most of that time we were camping in the snow, so I couldn’t really say what to expect. We’ll find out though.”    And a half hour later when they emerged from Phaedra’s room, they would indeed find out.***    “You’re wearing armor.” Inva deadpanned, punctuating the statement with a metallic clang as she smacked his cuirass with her tail.    Garibaldi looked clueless. “And?”    The tiefling sighed and looked at the fighter and then let him watch her eyes and a finger pass from him and then to every other member of their group in turn. None of them were wearing any armor.    “Unless you’re planning to punch him in the face and then fight your way out of the inn, you don’t walk into a private dinner meeting dressed in a suit of armor.”    “It’s the best that I have.” Garibaldi protested. “And I spent the afternoon polishing it.”    Admittedly, it gleamed silver and it did look rather nice. But it wasn’t traditional formalwear.    “Look at Velkyn.” Inva said. “That’s how you dress if you’re male and you’re trying to look nice.”    Velkyn grinned and stood up a bit straighter. He was dressed in what appeared to be a perfectly tailored suit, with a dark waistcoat cut tight around his torso, and its lines suggestive and flirtatious without ever actually showing anything, and retaining a very masculine style. Its style, and indeed its actual material itself, was fey in origin and distantly related to lesser glamour styles of magic. The material was capable of shifting color, texture, and even cut and contour based on the whims of its wearer. Velkyn had a sense of style, and his clothing reflected his sensibilities in a direct manner.    “And if you don’t have his figure and can’t get away with what he can, you can always take tips from Marcus, or even Victor if you don’t mind looking elfy.”    “Elfy?” Victor asked. “Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?”    “Depends on how much self-confidence you’ve got.” Inva said with a wink, not answering the question. “But don’t worry. You’re fine for this little affair. Just don’t try to banish our host or anything silly like that.”    “I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” The cleric said. “Besides, I can’t banish him inside of Sigil. No need to worry about it when it’s impossible.”    “Don’t worry.” Velkyn said. “It’s a dinner party. He might offend folks a bit, but he’s not going to eat babies and burn kittens alive and make you take part.”    Phaedra shot him a skeptical look. Velkyn had met ‘loths, but he hadn’t met the same ones that she had, certainly not her grandfather.    “Let me rephrase that.” Velkyn said as he gathered a wrapped package that was hopefully going to help him get past the door. “It’s unlikely that he’ll do anything like that. Just enjoy the food, enjoy the drinks, don’t sign anything in ink, blood, or anything else, and don’t make any promises.”    Easier said than done where Nerath was concerned, but they’d find out soon enough.***    A short time later they collectively walked to Nerath’s suite, pausing once they caught a glimpse of the armed tieflings standing outside of his door. The fiend was powerful and as such he preferred to either contact people on his own time or make them schedule an appointment; the guards were there to ensure that not just anyone came to disturb him, especially debtors and other unwelcome guests.    Phaedra turned and looked at Velkyn, “How are you going to get in to see him Velk? He never sent you an invitation.”    “Charm and good looks?” He asked, giving a smile and standing up as straight as possible. “And if that doesn’t work, there’s always intimidation.”    “And if that doesn’t work either,” Inva added with a hand on his shoulder, “They have sharp pointy things and you have feet to run with I suppose.”    “It’ll work out for the best.” Velkyn said. “It’ll work out for the best. Just watch.”    Inva stepped back and held up her hands. It was going to be interesting to see if it did.    Phaedra stepped forward first and gave her name to the guards. They looked at her, nodded and let her step past them into the fiend’s foyer. Evidently they’d been given descriptions, as they didn’t ask to see her invitation. Velkyn was next, but it wasn’t going to be as easy.    “Sir?” The tiefling on the right deftly interposed himself between the foyer and Velkyn. “Might I see your invitation? This is a private affair, and the King was very precise on only allowing his invited guests to attend tonight.”    Velkyn frowned, took a deep breath, and proceeded to apply a layer of charm that would have made half the advocates in the City Court jealous.    “I believe that there’s been some sort of mistake.” Velkyn answered without skipping a beat. “Considering that every member of my party received their invitation, yet I did not, I can only assume that it was intended but somehow failed to reach me.”    “If you have an invitation, you can enter.”    “Did you deliver them yourself?”    “No sir. But I know the man who did.”    “Then you can’t say if he did what he was supposed to do or not. But I can assure you that I would have been on the list of invitees. I suggest you go ask your master yourself if you’d like to second-guess his judgment in favor of an –obvious- error by one of your underlings.”    A flicker of hesitation passed over the tiefling’s features. There was too much logic in what the dark elf had said to make him risk it, but it was still just as risky to let him in if he wasn’t to be included either.    “And beyond that,” Velkyn added, holding up a wrapped, bottle-shaped package. “I have something to present to him that he’ll be more than pleased to receive.”    That look of uncertainty crossed the tiefling’s face again. There was a bit of logic to the half-drow’s statements, and his tone was assertive enough to impart more force to the argument.    Velkyn’s voice stressed that faintly superior and commanding tone. “Now if you’ll please move out of the way, I have a dinner to attend.”    The tiefling blinked as something telepathic wormed its way into his mind from beyond the door and gave him just such a command. Velkyn was welcome to attend if he forced the issue, even if the Marauder had been content to avoid his presence in the first place.    Deftly moving to the side, the tiefling bowed politely as he opened the door, “Enjoy your evening sir.”    Velkyn smiled and joined the others in the fiend’s waiting room.</blockquote>

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