Annual Assassin's Ball 2016
What if Milady, Rochefort, Feron and Grimaud all meet up at the Annual Assassin's Ball, paid for by Cardinal Richelieu? You are cordially invited.
MAJOR daftness, bending reality out of all proportion!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. Thank goodness.
The invitations are delivered.
Milady is only going because Richelieu is paying for it. First she needs a dress. Time to hang around the affluent part of town until a suitable one walks by.
Feron wonders if he should get his hair done, but decides no-one would be able to tell either way, so just gives it a quick shake, and light spray of lacquer.
Rochefort polishes his eye patch.
Grimaud ...where is Grimaud?
The Cardinal has been thoughtful in his preparations of the Ballroom. Mirrors have been strategically placed around the ballroom, so they can all snarl at themselves to their heart's content. Candles are kept to a minimum, so there are deep shadows. All the better to lurk in.
He has given orders that they are to be searched for weapons before entering. If they don't have any, they are to be given some. Better safe than sorry.
Entrances are everything at the Annual Assassin's Ball:
Milady glides in silently.
Feron shuffles to a table he has had strategically placed by the door in the disabled section.
Rochefort stomps in, in boots slightly too large perhaps, and stands in the middle of the floor, one leg bent, his hand on the hilt of his sword, chin tilted ever so slightly upward.
Grimaud is already there. Somewhere. Nobody's quite sure where.
"Why are we here?" Rochefort drawls. It is his first Ball; he had lived in Spain for a while.
The Cardinal has been generous in providing the Buffet.
Feron offers to fetch the soup, but by the time he has hobbled over to the table on his two sticks, it's all gone cold.
Milady admires the floral arrangement at the centre of the table. "So pretty," she murmurs.
Feron wonders idly if Grimaud can manage to eat the spare ribs. Who knew if he had any teeth, the man never cracked a smile. There was blancmange though ...
Rochefort eyes everyone suspiciously.
They all eye each other suspiciously.
The waiters eye each other suspiciously.
Grimaud hovers over the table, picking over the leftovers.
Milady makes a mental note; Say her goodbyes to Grimaud before the night ends, as he has a tendency to disappear without trace, and she would hate to miss him. Where was he anyway?
She drops a cupcake and before she knows it, Grimaud materialises at her side and picks it up. (There he is!) She turns to thank him but he has gone, along with the cupcake. She would add him to her "List", she snarls, taking a pencil out of her hair.
By the way Rochefort is looking her up and down, Milady thinks he may be admiring her dress (result!), but she is not sure. He does that to everyone.
Dancing is de rigueur at the Annual Assassin's Ball.
The carpet is rolled up against the window, although there is a suspiciously large lump in the middle of it. At least she wouldn't have to dance with Feron, Milady thinks. The man can hardly put one foot in front of the other. Grimaud didn't stand anywhere long enough to do a soft shoe shuffle. So that left Rochefort. It would have to be something one-handed, the man never let go of his sword!
Just when she thought she had got away with it, the music starts up. Rochefort stomps over. She would know about it if he stood on her foot in those boots. She wonders if she swoops around on his blind side, he would keep going straight through the door.
But Rochefort veers around her at the last minute, heading for Feron.
"Suppose the Hokey Cokey is out of the question?"
In reply, Feron takes a pencil out of his hair.
Milady and Grimaud engage in a quick game of "Hood Off", seeing who can disappear inside their hood more effectively. Grimaud wins that one, as he totally disappears. DAMMIT says Milady, stamping her foot. Ugh, there's that cupcake.
The Cardinal likes to provide a lot of wine, so there is plenty to spare.
Good job Athos isn't here, thinks Milady.
They all get a bit tiddly.
It's going to be a long night...