Party crashing
"I'd give that to your empress, little rat child." Thomas glared at the Outsider, pocketing the rune he'd grabbed. The shrine glowed that horrible, eerie purple that engulfed the Outsider like a shroud, the man, the god, floating in his pristine suit. "Well I can hardly use it." Thomas replied, brushing off the arm of a curious, but largely uninterested weeper. "Anything useful you can give me?"
The Outsider smiled that smile of his, the one that said 'I know more than you ever will, and may share some of it if you amuse me.' "Useful for what?"
"Useful for her." Thomas growled. "Something that might help her. Void knows she needs it."
"Oh the Void definitely knows that, rat child. Fortunately, she has a protector."
"Damn straight she does."
"You think I refer to you?" The Outsider chuckled. "Perhaps. A rook may still protect a queen, though it is entirely overshadowed by it. But I referred to a man who was a mere pawn, and yet flung himself to the end of the board and became a knight, the piece that can do what the queen cannot… inform your little empress that help may come from the most unlikely of places." Thomas shook his head at the riddle and turned to go. "Oh, and make sure to hand her that note in your pocket." He looked back, but the Outsiders form was already fading. Sighing, he leapt from the window.
._.
The fireworks exploded high above the mansion, the clock struck 12, a tallboy fired an arrow at a crowd of weepers, and Samuel's boat drifted slowly down the canal. "Well, I have no idea how you pulled that stunt off m'lady." The boatman remarked, looking back at his passenger. "But those loyalists were either bewitched or stupid, and I know they 'aint the latter."
"I don't like deceiving them." Emily replied, scrutinising the manor appearing in the distance. "But one of them is the high Overseer. If they knew I was a witch they would kill me!"
"And me, and Sammy, and Callista for all I Cur-know. Heh, get it?" Thomas landed on the boat, unbalancing it and causing ripples across the water. "The way I see it, it doesn't matter if you have the most wretched, cursed sword in history, if you use it to kill bad people, it's a good thing."
Emily waggled a finger at him. "No, you bop them over the head with the hilt and jail them, oh stop rolling your eyes and report."
._.
The tallboy clanked along the road, its rider glaring down at the weeper who was stumbling towards it. Pulling a lever it fired one of its arrows down towards the creature, flames curling about it as it prepared to deliver its explosive payload. There was a blue flash, and the bolt flew to the side. Sluggishly, he turned, seeing a small girl in a white dress sat on a flickering lamp post, spinning the projectile around her fingers.
"You shouldn't just kill them." The witch sighed. "They're people too, you know."
Knowing no other response, the tallboy fired another explosive bolt, but she flung hers and the two collided with a loud bang. When the smoke cleared she was gone.
._.
Emily walked calmly up the road, heels clacking on the dirty cobblestones. Once again, she felt thankful for Granny Rags and her dress that seemingly wouldn't dirty at anything. The entrance to the Boyles' party was up ahead, and the couple at the gate seemed to be presenting an invitation. Ah. That could be a problem. However, a gust of wind yanked the invitation from the woman's hand, sending it blowing down the street, and the man grabbed her, making some cautionary remark about chasing down the street at night. Emily caught the fluttering letter, smiled, and focused. She felt her form shift and change, her dress altering to match. Thank goodness it's a masked ball. She thought, flicking her veil down. It would raise more than a few eyebrows if Jessamine Kaldwin was in attendance.
She walked up to the booth and handed the invitation in with a smile, before realising that that wasn't exactly visible at the moment. "Welcome, Madame...well, i suppose that's the secret, isn't it?" The man looked over the invitation. "Everything looks in order. Please enjoy yourself. It promises to be an eventful evening."
"Oh I sincerely hope so." Emily suppressed a fit of giggles as she walked through. And was met with magnificence. Arched ceilings, marble floors, a register with dozens of recognisable names, glasses of the bubbly drink she'd tried once and never touched again...it was exactly like all the parties she'd always wanted to go to. She recalled all the evenings sat in her room in Dunwall tower, looking on the window towards a mansion with lights blaring, knowing that her mother was doing something far more interesting than she was. Now here she was, wearing her mother's body to gain entry. It felt so...cheeky. She promised herself that one day, she would attend such events openly as herself. For now, she settled for grabbing a pen and, with a flourish, signing Emily Kaldwin on the register.
Okay, recap. Three women in identical dresses, different colours. One of them is the lady Boyle, the others are her sisters. Shes the one funding Burrows. So stop it...somehow. Great.
Emily did a lap of the ground floor of the building, carefully avoiding conversations while listening for information. The three Boyles were not hard to find. The one in red was loud and laughing, never straying too far from the drinks table. The one in white was wistful and quiet. The other, in black, was also quiet, but jumpy, and reserved. The way upstairs was blocked by a wall of light and Emily, after casually inquiring, discovered that the guests were not keyed in, though the Boyles were. It would fry her if she tried to walk through, and it wasn't as if she could use weapons or powers in front of all these people to get upstairs. That would prove bothersome. In an attempt to find her way up, she walked out into the garden, and her eyes alighted upon a man in a wolf mask.
I have dishonored two. Yeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssss... Ignoring the painful wait, congratulations, you have more.