faderift | [ota] nobody's gonna have an orgy in their mansion all over their nice furniture

WHO: OTA, more or less
WHAT: An all-hands infiltration mission ends up being rather more hands than anticipated.
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: At an estate outside Ostwick
NOTES: Sending crystals are allowed but must be used with the utmost discretion to avoid discovery. A general warning for Eyes Wide Shut-type party nonsense, but more fancy swinger makeouts than sex dungeon. Please make sure to communicate OOCly to ensure everyone's having fun. NSFW content is likely, but if a thread is going to turn into prolonged porn please shift it to an inbox.

Word has come through reliable sources that Baron Hounsford, secretly a significant financial supporter first of the Inquisition and now of Riftwatch as well, is to be the target of an assassnation attempt. Precisely why or by whom is unknown, just that the threat is imminent. Worse, the Baron has left behind his personal guard to attend a somewhat mysterious event at the home of Lord Esterhauzy, outside Ostwick. All Riftwatch has been able to learn on such short notice is that the estate is secluded and the event extravagant. The massive scale is a blessing and a curse: it's certainly big enough to sneak in quite a lot of people, so long as they look as if they have money, but by the same token it will be easy for assassins to sneak in as well, and difficult to quickly locate anyone.

On arrival, everyone willing to dress the part is ushered in to Lord Esterhauzy's glittering mansion, where the difficulties of the mission suddenly become much greater: each person, whether disguised as guest or staff, will be handed a random mask, and informed of the rules:

Merry Widow of Wycome

The dimly candle-lit ballroom is already loud with masked guests, so many that they spill out onto the torch-studded terraces and garden beyond. The room is overwarm, but not sweltering thanks to the efforts of oiled footmen posted near the windows with large fans, and the servants circulating with trays of icy-cold champagne. Somewhere in this crowd are Baron Hounsford and those who wish to kill him, and the only way to find them is to spread out, speak to as many people as possible, and regularly pool information among themselves to try to zero in on their targets. They must mingle as if lives depend upon it.

Those reluctant to participate if it might be avoided will discover that locations where private conversation can be had without complying with the house rules are almost non-existent. Lord Esterhauzy learned his lesson the last time he tried this--it is a common subject of gossip among the crowd that the last party he had advertised as the most debauched of the season fizzled out into merely a slightly racy cocktail hour with underdressed staff. This time he has taken precautions, blocking off most of the house, monitoring access to the rest to ensure it's for sexy purposes only, and empowering staff to have anyone not complying with the spirit of the event thrown out--lest they think that an idle threat, shortly after they arrive several people are unmasked and thrown out for not obeying the musical cue, much to the laughter of the crowd. Even the grounds are patrolled.

There are several spots they've overlooked: a linen closet, a stairwell alcove, a corner of the library, but Riftwatch aren't the only ones to have discovered this, and there is no guarantee any particular hiding spot will be available when the music stops.

As the night goes on and the crowd gets drunker, the tone gradually shifts from slightly giggly titillation to more serious debauchery (much to Lord Esterhauzy's delight. If at first you don't succeed!) but there remains a veneer of decorum that keeps it from sliding into obscenity: people may saunter off to the garden or a private room with someone else's spouse(s), but nobody is just openly fucking on the piano.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Another shrug. Laura has not spent much time in these settings, either, but she has spent enough of her life looking for patterns and aberrations that it feels natural to look for the things that stick out. If someone does not do that and cannot smell, she is unsure how to help them.

Someplace behind them, the music shifts to The Merry Widow of Wycome. Someone groans, someone else titters. Laura turns to Derrica, leaning in with the intent to kiss her.

At some point in the evening, this song will cease to be such a surprise. Derrica feels some twinge of apology: sorry for enjoying the conceit of this ball, sorry for the arrangement people have landed in unexpectedly. Laura doesn't hesitate, so Derrica doesn't either.

It's hard to read Laura most of the time. Derrica had some vague thought maybe she'd be able to get a better read on her if the ball put them in position, and yet.

"Okay," is all she says, right before she cups Laura's face in both hands and kisses her. Derrica's trying to be gentle about it, rather than plunge directly into something that she maybe should try to be polite about.

This iteration of the game is mildly interesting, if only because she has never kissed a woman before. Derrica smells pleasant enough, her hands would be easy to knock away if necessary, and she does not demand anything from the experience. Others could stand to learn from the way she kisses.

(Perhaps the most important factor is how familiar it is to kiss someone and feel nothing particular about it. There is nothing overwhelming about it, no muddled yearning and self-consciousness making her long to run away. After she kisses Derrica, she will not have to hide someplace with her claws. A fortunate thing, as the marks she gave herself earlier tonight are still ugly red crosses on the inside of one arm--she heals quickly, but not that quickly.)

Because this is meant to count for something, Laura deepens the kiss, her tongue flickering at Derrica's lips, one hand coming to rest on her sweet-smelling hair in its careful style, just behind her ear. It is work the way anything is work, but right now, it is not difficult.

Tension unspools in Derrica's body; she finds herself pulled taut in this moment between what she wants and what she knows is polite. The urge for more is as familiar as drawing breath. Her thumb slides along the line of Laura's jaw, responding as prompted but stalling, stuttering past the parts of her that would like to push beyond propriety.

There would be a cost. Derrica knows this without needing to be told. She still shivers when Laura's fingers nudge into her hair. There is a momentary flicker where she cannot stop herself from holding on tighter where her hands have slid to Laura's shoulders. Her grip loosens on an exhale, her nose bumping Laura's as the song winds down and she eases back slightly.

"Okay?" She repeats, questioning this time.

Derrica is not wrong to hold back, but consciously, Laura would not understand it. Does not understand it--she can feel something of that delicate balance in the way she is touched, the push and pull between something like passion and repression.

"Yes." The question arouses her sense of self-preservation, something suspicious and concerned at being treated like a breakable thing. She gazes up at Derrica, considering the curve of her mouth. "Why?"

"Because not everyone likes doing this."

"This" being kissing at the drop of a hat. Mhavos sticks in her mind, the chilly politeness of his posture as their mouths had met. Laura hadn't felt like that, but the angry red marks on her arm are their own kind of warning. Derrica wants to put her hands over them and smooth them away.

"I just wanted to check."

Which leaves unspoken the last bit: I wanted to be sure you weren't uncomfortable in a bad way.

Laura shrugs. "The mission fails if we do not obey the music."

Which might not make it a comfortable thing, but it is not difficult. Easier, almost, with someone like Derrica--someone she knows. There is none of the uncertainty that comes with having to gauge the likelihood that someone poses a threat while simultaneously undressing them (and here, all they needed to do was kiss). And all the while, it means nothing beyond the scope of their objectives.

That last fact makes it simple enough to reply to Derrica's question with an utterly blase attitude, despite the fact that her last encounter was...different. Curiosity spurs her to ask in return, "Do you like doing this?"

"Kissing? Or playing this game?"

One is easier to respond to than the other. She's untangled herself from Laura, pulled back into her own space respectfully, and as they speak she sinks down onto the plush sofa adjacent to them. The dress she's borrowed doesn't really lend itself to the movement, but she pulls her feet up after her anyway.

"It's not so bad, being here."

And Derrica is very aware that she's one of the few who thinks that.

Laura shrugs. Either, both--it is a very general sort of curiosity. And listening to Derrica talk is preferable to speaking herself.

After a moment, she decides to sit beside Derrica. It is not the superior tactical choice, but perhaps she will gain something useful from speaking with the woman. (Or perhaps she will simply enjoy the experience--but that isn't a possibility she's considered in any detail.)

[ota] nobody's gonna have an orgy in their mansion all over their nice furniture

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