Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-5999656-20190212043458

Alyxia stayed stock still, hand ready to fly to the weapon fixed at her back if Diaboli made another move for her. She was prepared, this time. What she wasn't prepared for, however, was Brunhilde pulling her aside as one of the Bluthardt guards stepped protectively in front of her. The pretty snake-masked man beside Diaboli waved the armored soldier down, and in just a few more seconds, the collective bated breath of the onlookers was released at the sound of a few carefully selected words, and the spectators dispersed without further ado, amidst a chorus of displeased mutters and dirty looks. All in all, it was a splendidly neat affair, a smooth recovery and return to form this evening after the flub that was Diaboli's outburst.

The first thing Alyxia had felt in response was surprise - that the notoriously trigger-happy Bluthardts had stepped in for her. That was, to them, she was nothing but a crass stranger, a dark delinquent with a habit of saying whatever was at the top of her head and pissing people off just by being herself. And yet, by some unspoken predetermined inclination, the crafty heiress who had only ever played games had moved to defend her. Then came just the slightest tinge of guilt - the entire delinquent persona of "Maris" was carefully crafted to deflect suspicion from herself, even as she cavorted with the deadliest beasts Mistral had to offer. So far, it had worked. She seemed just like a dumb teenager, and not a highly trained super-spy. A dumb teenager who somehow had tickets into the classiest criminal auction this side of the ocean, but still. Brunhilde had no idea who Alyxia was, evident by the way she quickly spoke her alias, but the woman had intervened on her behalf anyway.

Alyxia vaguely perceived The Stalker, who was just minutes ago the biggest threat in the room, fade into the background with a few meaningless Shakespearean stanzas to fill the void of her newfound irrelevance. And then Diaboli was in her face again, his marred features just inches from her as he hissed a threat so laced with venom it would have made a Dragon Head jealous. Alyxia's jaw tightened at the mention of "masters in Vale", but she stared down Diaboli without flinching. When he whirled around and faced the crowd, Alyxia's eyes remained on the back of his coat.

Alyxia had no idea what promises had been exchanged between her cousin and Decadere Diaboli, or what hollow gestures might have been made with the most heartfelt of intentions. If the man truly believed that the Dragons would leave an entire kingdom untouched just because one person said so, then, well, he had underestimated just how broad the influence of the network really was. And it was only going to grow from here on out, regardless of what Zanipher said or wanted.

Alyxia relaxed just slightly, and then reached up to readjust her hood.

"Your intervention was much appreciated, Brunhilde," she said to the heiress, all traces of her vulgar alter ego vanishing as her voice dropped an octave.

_________________________

Sorrel hurried his way through the crowded floor, pushing people aside with barely an apology as he beelined for his younger cousin. There, he spotted what looked like a standoff just as it dissipated, and his heart sank at the sight of Alyxia right in the middle of it. He sped into a jog, and then yanked on the girl's sleeve.

, he signed hurriedly. Alyxia cast a backwards glance at Brunhilde, and at Diaboli, who was still addressing the masked woman, and then followed Sorrel. The duo deftly disappearing into the concourse, leaving the rest of the gatherers to resolve the tail end of the standoff themselves.

 Alyxia asked.

 Sorrel responded. Without remembering the proper signals for what he was about to say, he switched to using his voice.

"It's a sting operation," Sorrel continued in a hushed tone. "Narreau is involved too. We need to leave before anyone catches on. I'm going to alert HQ."

Sorrel whipped out his Scroll, and typed a quick text message, his fingers almost a blur as they tapped across the screen. He hit send, and gave a deep exhale.

A few seconds later, the text box turned gray.

''Message unable to be sent. Please try again later.''

"Huh?" Sorrel tried to send the message again. Again, an error message popped up. He tapped the screen forcefully. Again, an error message popped up.

"What?"

"My Scroll's not sending. Try yours," Sorrel ordered. As Alyxia typed, he stopped and cast around agitatedly. Any one of the people passing by them could be a government spy.

"It's not working," Alyxia said confusedly after a moment. "How - "

"Someone is sabotaging the connection. I don't know if it's tech or someone's semblance. Shit," Sorrel intoned with a growl. They'd been cut off from the outside.

"Come with me. We're going to find a way out. Mask on, now."

______________________

What no one had noticed yet was a blonde-haired young man standing near the main auction stage, wine glass in hand as he watched the finishing touches of the setup. Every few minutes, he snapped his fingers. To anyone else, it might have looked like a character tic. To those who knew him, none of which were around at the moment, it was clearly a signal. One carefully timed so that each snap replaced the lingering effects of the last.

Being a walking EMP bomb had its benefits.

Aster Redmayne cricked his neck in anticipation of the raid to come.