The punch isn’t alcoholic, because Lady Malcolm wants to reform the servants, but there’s no shortage of people who smuggled in some whiskey and are mixing it in there. This is one of the few places where the elites and the servants mingle; with the masks on their faces, you can’t tell them apart.

Ruby puts her arm on Steve's arm. "My, what large muscles you have."

She is dressed as an Arabian harem girl.

Steve looks down her extraordinarily skimpy outfit at the cleavage that she does not, in fact, have. "Um, thanks?"

He didn't realize it was a costume ball but fortunately his sailor's uniform is a costume. Probably. It counts.

Jing Yi is alone, bereft, left behind by Ruby in the brief moment he went to get some definitely non-alcoholic punch, he is definitely a reformer who agrees with Lady Malcolm's values here. He is also dressed as a harem girl, but following a very different brief. Much further East, one might say. It is incredibly inaccurate, both because he is an actor on a budget and it is funny. It would be like dressing up as Her Royal Highness by covering yourself in a shroud of sequins. ...He's pretty sure only about 30% of the party knows enough about anything to realise how stupid this costume is, which only makes it funnier.

Ruby waves him over. "And here is my friend Wilhelmina Jing." She snaps open her fan. "I've always found a harem needs more than one resident, don't you think?"

"Um. ...pro... bably?"

"Especially those who are... exotic."

What level of irony is Ruby acting on? We just don't know.

"Well, I certainly think so." He waves the World's Cheapest Fan in front of his face coquettishly. Does this sailor know what is going on? It's a fascinating question.

Steve Costigan is aware he's being flirted with by two girls who are much more forward than any girls he's used to.Possibly it is because of the very non-alcoholic punch? Maybe it got them all loose. Steve likes loose women.

He has completely failed to notice certain details as regards deepness of voice, absence of cleavage, etc.

Okay, that is hilarious, and he has to play along with this now.

"It's always exciting to meet a sailor. --Or well, someone who could pass for one."

"Oh, I'm a real sailor!" Steve says earnestly. "I'm on the Sea Girl. I didn't realize this was a costume party."

"Even better! Have you ever sailed anywhere Fun?"

"Uh, lots of places. India, China, the South Pacific--" He decides he needs more whiskey for this interaction. "But nowhere have there been girls as beautiful as you," the whiskey inspires him to say.

"Indeed."

More coquettish fan waving. "Oh, you're too kind."

"It's so warm in here. Wilhelmina, are you warm?"

"I hadn't noticed yet, but I am actually now I think about it."

"I feel fine," Steve says, obliviously.

Oh nooooo. He is so-- so oblivious. It's wonderful. "It might be cooler out in the gardens."

"It's a lovely night. I think we should go for a walk." She snaps her fan closed. "I know a wonderful place, darling."

Is the place a public bathroom? Ruby doesn't need to confirm or deny that.

"I trust your good taste."

"Onward!"

In the interests of maintaining this continuity's R rating for violence instead of sex, we will elide Steve Costigan's baffled discovery of what exactly drunk girls get up to and at least one exotic new sex act.

"That was amazing," Ruby says in Polari, having dismissed a dazed Steve Costigan and refilling her punch.

"It was beautiful. I don't think I've ever met someone quite so oblivious. ...We have given him a very weird idea of what goes on at Lady Malcolm's."

"Oh, he caught on eventually."

"You're more astute than me, then. In my defense, I was focusing on something else."

"I mean, we took him to a cottage."

"He is a sailor, but I'm not sure he is actually in the know?"

"...You're kidding."

"What goes on in his head may be an enduring mystery of the world."

"Just wait until I tell the girls at Anna's this, they'll freak. --I suppose men aren't for thinking, are they, darling."

"Good evening to my favorite harem girls."

Evie MacQueen is a fashion designer. By day, she tailors suits for Savile Row; by night, her elaborate and edgy creations stun the bright young things of London. She's stunningly beautiful. She lives alone, spends more money than she earns, keeps a low profile, and rarely speaks about her past. She's incredibly intelligent and can discourse easily about science, philosophy, and history.

Jing Yi is also kind of infatuated with her.

The thing is that she's radiantly beautiful, and she makes such good clothes, and there's just something about the way she moves? Anyone who sees her would fall half in love with her.

Unfortunately, Jing Yi mostly knows her from when she was costuming him and he was playing the back half of a horse.

I mean, why wouldn't he be a little infatuated? She is objectively very charming.

"Always good to see you around," he says, making an attempt not to sound like a pining fool.

"It's always good to see you too," she says, and her voice sounds like Jing Yi is the only important person in the world.

Ruby raps him on the upper arm with her fan, and if Evie didn't speak Polari would very clearly be saying something about Wilhelmina abandoning her for the normals.

That is, let's be honest, very fair in this case. But it is very difficult not to pay all of his attention to Evie. "I'd ask what brought you here, but--" He makes an expansive gesture at the party. "It would be kind of a silly question."

She smiles. With her costume-- Carmilla the femme fatale vampire-- it makes her look very beautiful and a little bit dangerous. "I love to see and be seen."

"It's a very noble motive." (He is braced for getting rapped again.)

"Oh, is that a sailor over there," Ruby says. "Got to go!"

"This is... quite... a different outfit from the last time I saw you, Mr. Jing."

...That is a very fair reaction of Ruby's, honestly. "What's the point of a masked ball if you don't get to wear something ridiculous?"

"Of course. And there's nothing like a mask to reveal the truth."

...He has no idea how to respond to that! Especially considering the whole 'yes, she knows Polari' thing. Time for a brilliant strategem: changing the subject! "Business is treating you well? Less equine costumes, I hope?"

"Another fashion house tried to hire me away to Paris," she says, "but I just don't feel like I can leave London."

"There is no other city quite like it."

"And my French is hopeless. I just don't think I'm brave enough to move to another country where I barely even speak the language."

The flattery is incredibly unsubtle and if it was from someone less wonderful than Evie he would potentially be annoyed by it. But he isn't. "You get used to it."

"What have you been up to?"

(She sounds so interested, and the way she moves is magnetizing.)

"Oh, you know, the usual profession of the working actor: not acting, and spending all your time convincing people that they would like to pay you for actually acting."

She laughs beautifully.

"I thought you did a wonderful job as the back half of a horse."

"It was the height of my career. I'm never going to be able to top the pathos I brought to that role," he says, tongue firmly in his cheek.

"I'm sure you'd do equally well as the front half of the horse."

"With good luck, maybe I'd even be able to land the role of the dame."

"But the villain is the best part. All the actors I know agree. The villain is the part you can have... fun... with."

"It is a fun time to get to chew the scenery." Chewing the scenery: fun. Chewing the scenery as an ~evil mandarin~: ...less fun.

"It's why I'm Carmilla here! The villainess always has the best time."

"Ooh, Carmilla is a good choice."

"Thank you." She kisses his cheek. "I'd like to get to see a lot more of you."

...Assuming she is flirting with him is probably wishful thinking. (Though he would really, really like it to be the case.) "It's a good thing we run in the same circles then."

She smiles. "It certainly is."

And she disappears into the rest of the party.

...and now he is actually bereft. Ruby seems to have disappeared, probably with the aforementioned sailor? He is going to have to apologise when he next sees her. ...and come up with an apology better than 'In my defense: Evie.' ...He is going to sit down and be somewhere quieter. He glances up at the balcony. It looks like Terrence is up there. ...Terrence, especially when diluted with other people, is better than standing alone at the punch bowls.

Meanwhile-- 

Immaculately trimmed and perfectly kept-up, the garden looks like an illustration from a book. There’s a bench by the fountain, or a space to stand near the peonies. In the poorly lit garden, you can hear the whispers of hushed conversation, but you can’t see who might be talking; it’s the most secretive place in the ball.

Dr. Frankenstein and her creation race to a dark corner, giggling.

Violet came here to dance, and she's been dancing. Some. It's fun and exciting and wild and she loves it but it's also rather loud and there are quite a lot of people, and she's dressed herself up as a lovely bird with a full-face mask and a feathered wig and a boa for effect and this was perfect for looking nice and being unrecognizable but she is also starting to sweat.

So now she's outside, where it's cool and dark, and she is looking at the flowers.

Unfortunately for her there are two giggling people RIGHT NEXT TO THE FOLLOWERS.

Obviously engaged in some matter of Shenanigan.

Well, she's not totally opposed to other people. Not if they're up to something interesting. She listens in. Unfortunately, with a bird mask on, it will be obvious if she turns to observe, but she can do her best.

Giggle giggle giggle. "Ooh, what's that?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the spleen-- if we had a better light--"

"Do you think we can take it into the party?"

"I don't think we can take it into the party."

"What is the point of being an eccentric avant-garde artist if I can't take dead bodies into the party."

Okay what the fuck now she's definitely looking. She'd prefer not to get up close and personal with them but she will if she must for the sake of seeing what the dead thing is.

"Hi! We found a dead bird."

"Ah! A relative." (Get it, because her costume--) Her voice is quiet and breathy. "I wonder what killed it." It was obviously killed, right? Its spleen is apparently visible?

"Probably a disease of some kind," the girl says. "I'd be able to tell which if we had light."

"We could go home?"

"...you want to go home from the best party of the year so that I can dissect a dead bird?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Do you suppose you could say it was part of your costume?" she says, looking at Dr. Frankenstein's lab coat consideratively. "Or sneak it in underneath something." They are going to get caught if they do that, but they all know that and she's not going to be anywhere near them when it happens so what does it matter to her.

"Okay, but it's the dissection that's messy."

"We could do it in the bathroom? People do lots of things they aren't supposed to do in bathrooms."

"Okay, I have to say I'm curious about what kind of project you want a dead bird for." (Oscar is dressed as Pierrot.)

"Oh, Chu Chu is brilliant. Did you know she's the only woman in the entire country of China to get a scholarship to study medicine in England?"

It's too dark to see Chu Chu blush but it is nevertheless very obvious she is.

"It's obvious from the outfits already, they're delving into things man was not meant to meddle with--" oh no it's someone she knows. It's fine, she's passing, she's practiced her voice so many times, Oscar's in the safer crowd anyways.

"Oh, Chu Chu's a woman so it's fine! She meddles in all kinds of things man wasn't meant to know," William says, giving the strong impression that one of those things is his penis.

Oscar chuckles at that; he isn't above appreciating a bawdy joke. "How do you like England, Chu Chu?"

"It's great! I'm learning so much," she says earnestly.

"I think it's a terrible country," Oscar says cheerfully. "But studying medicine sounds like a lot of fun. What's your favorite part?"

"All these compliments do a poor job of hiding your relation to each other," Violet whispers to William, in a voice that might almost be mistaken for earnest. "It's obvious now that you've also come to the party dressed as your real self."

"Well, masks are a great way of showing the truth," William says. "Who would expect that I met Chu Chu when I died in a tragic gambling accident and then she brought me back to life?"

"And now you are in her eternal service as payment for bringing you back. Maybe you should consider reanimating the bird, it'd be an excellent party trick."

William Way pouts. "Nobody asked me how you could do a tragic gambling accident."

"How can you do a tragic gambling accident?"

William brightens up. "Well, the dice accidentally came up sevens when both I and some very large men with very impressive muscles were really counting on it coming up sixteen."

"They must have overcome with feeling when they saw you were up and about again."

"Right! But I'm immortal now because I already died. So no harm done. I don't think I got your name."

"Violet." She says it softly. She's been less focused on her voice (though not enough to embarrass herself) but it's now at the front of her mind again.

"I'm William Way," he says as if he expects everyone to know who he is.

"Of course." She says it like she doesn't much care.

William Way finds this kind of confusing but fails to process it.

"Do you wanna head back inside?"

"It is a bit cold. With or without the bird?"

"Without the bird, I think?"

Chu Chu has never been to a fancy party before and is pretty sure that William is wrong about attending them.

"Hey, we should go up to the balcony! Fancy people!"

She'll let him go first.

The balcony is where the wealthiest and best-bred people in London come to see and be seen. You see a glittering insect, an Arabian prince, a fairy, a lioness– all dripping with gems the people on the floor couldn’t begin to afford. Masks cover everyone’s faces: could you be speaking with a millionaire or a duke?

William Way climbs up the stairs like he belongs there.

Chu Chu... is pretty sure she is in fact not allowed to be here.

Violet does not particularly want the possible scrutiny of fancy people, but, given she's dared herself to be here, acting like she feels that way will grab more attention than not.

"Hello, Annie!"

"How dare you speak to me."

"Oh, don't be like that, Annie."

UM????

Oh dear. "She disapproves of his deadly extracurriculars, I think," Violet whispers in Chu Chu's ear.

"One time! One time, Annie."

"I am the daughter of one of the finest families in England. You are a guttersnipe with pretensions."

"I think I made your birthday party better."

"NO YOU DID NOT."

"Chu Chu--"

"What kind of idiot has the same name twice."

"CHU CHU," William says, ignoring her, "back me up here, surely anyone would want an award-winning performance of the latest modernist music, showing off their exquisite taste and up-to-the-minute sense of fashion--"

"YOU CAN'T DANCE TO MACHINE SOUNDS. IF I WANTED MACHINE SOUNDS I WOULD HAVE HIRED A TRACTOR MYSELF."

Sulkily: "it was a steam engine. Actually."

Chu Chu does Not Want To Be Involved Here.

"Not an actual steam engine...?" She hates this but she also loves this. These people are hilarious.

"A recording of a steam engine. Not an actual steam engine," William clarifies. "The actual steam engine wouldn't have fit. I checked."

"I DO NOT WANT ANY SORT OF STEAM ENGINE, RECORDED OR OTHERWISE, AT MY BIRTHDAY PARTY."

"For real effect you'd need rails installed anyways, and who can get the permits for all that?" she tells him.

"Oh, that's true," he says. "Chu Chu, write that down for my next performance. Rails. Violet, I'll have to thank you."

"Just say a little bird gave you the idea."

"Oh, that's good. Can I say you came to me in a dream?"

"If you like."

Annie rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Happy to do it again! Any time!" He sighs. "Her house really is such a beautiful space."

"I'm sure she's very pleased you think so," she says innocently.

"NO I'M NOT."

Maybe they should stop antagonizing the upset rich girl. "How do you know William?" she asks Chu Chu politely, making a subtle attempt to move away from Annie.

"We met at a party," Chu Chu says.

She is going to leave out unnecessary information like "she was standing with her back against the wall, terrified, and then William nonconsensually decided they were friends."

"This kind of party? Or something more selective?"

"One for the new scholarship people."

"Sounds fun. Certainly quieter."

"And then I decided to talk to the most brilliant and beautiful woman there."

"He flatters you quite a lot. You must be very impressive."

"Not really," Chu Chu says, blushing, at the same time that--

William Way says, "she's the most impressive woman I've ever met."

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the balcony--

Ichiro Sano has Simone on his arm. Instead of a costume, he is dressed in the court wear of his home country, Japan; it is enough of a costume for anyone here.

Simone's dressed as a dragonfly, all in glittering green.

Honestly, for her, the ball isn't that different from every other night of the year. Sano's arm is a perfectly nice place to spend it, though.

"Michael's over there. --He's an old family friend." Sano waves him over.

She looks over at where Michael is being waved over, smiles in his direction, and -- oh god it's Nigel's brother.

Who hopefully doesn't recognize her as his brother's girlfriend.

Michael is the eldest son of the Smith family. A gentleman; he’s a war hero, a cricket star, and an Oxford graduate. You'd think there's a hidden truth here, but he’s actually just kind of like that. No hidden dark secrets. He loves his younger brother but is also very frustrated by him.

"Good evening, Ichiro, ma'am."

"This is Mr. Smith, an old family friend. This is Miss Burr, whom I have the honor of escorting tonight."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith."

Please let Nigel not have told his brother the name of his beard. Please let Nigel not have told his brother the name of his beard--

"I believe I've already made your acquaintance. My brother speaks highly of you."

Goddammit.

"Right, Nigel's brother! Yes, we have. He speaks highly of you as well."

Michael looks at her very suspiciously. "You must be very disappointed that he couldn't escort you."

Simone is going to DIE.

She shrugs, effortless and elegant. "I always enjoy spending time with him, but conflicts happen, it isn't such a tragedy to miss one night."

"He was so disappointed to miss it but his poor stomach-- It seems to happen every year."

"I've already promised to tell him all about it." This isn't even untrue. Not that Simone objects to outright lying but in this case at least that is not what she's doing.

"I like his new art. I'm glad he's pursuing something traditional, not like all of this--" His gesture is broad and indicates all the degenerates on the ground floor.

"Traditional art is valuable," Sano says smoothly. "I've always thought so in my collection."

Caught in the sweep of Michael's gesturing is Elsie Waters, the skull Simone painted on her face before the party slightly smudged, as she does something which is certainly not flirting with a girl dressed up as a Greek goddess. "Indeed," she agrees.

"Still, there's always space for exploration," Sano says mildly. "The best of old and new. --Simone, would you like to speak with someone else? Perhaps go down and dance, it's been a while."

Oh god was it really that obvious. Fuck.

"I'll be on the dance floor if you're looking for me," she says, and -- elegantly, without being obviously on edge -- flees the scene.

When they're in a quiet corner he says, "My deepest apologies for the awkwardness, Miss Burr."

"You couldn't have known." Apologetic smile.

"I will certainly keep you separate in the future. Foxtrot?"

More genuine smile, now. "I'd love to."

The band plays a lively mix of waltzes, fox trots, polkas, and valetas. The servants of the ball whirl and spin around the dance floor. Everyone has gone all-out with costumes: Simone sees a mime, a Sun King, and even a man entirely covered in balloons. The queans are taking the opportunity to wear women’s clothing where everyone can see. Even those who aren’t really trying are wearing brightly colored, glittery masks.

Inaaya Sinope is cheerfully doing Indian folk dancing to foxtrot music.

She's dressed as Athena.

Her... partner?... Simone doesn't know enough about Indian folk dancing to know how this works... is dressed as Artemis and is dancing with less experience but good grace.

Sano is, of course, an excellent dancer. One of the best Simone has ever danced with.

Simone's danced with a fair number of people; when she makes that statement it means something.

They accidentally run into Inaaya.

"Oh my god, sir, I'm so sorry."

"Please don't mention it."

Inaaya does tarot readings for cash. She's enormously frustrated by how much of the London occult scene is scams, but hasn’t figured out how to find the non-scams yet. She's weirdly skeptical for someone who professionally tells the future. Her girlfriend is Joan Kramer.

"Oh, hi! --Inaaya, this is Mr. Ichiro Sano, he's an art collector; Ichiro, this is Miss Inaaya Sinope, she's a friend of a friend."

"It's lovely to meet you, Miss Sinope."

He bows, because the costume gives him an excuse, and because it always feels odd not to.

"Athena?"

"Yes, and my friend is Artemis."

Sano glances at Simone.

The goal is to get Inaaya an introduction, not to get Sano's attention on Simone's other life. "Oh, I thought I recognized Joan. Tell her I said hello?"

"Of course," Inaaya says.

Sano is concerned that Perhaps On Some Level This Ball Was A Mistake. "You met her through one of your performances?"

It really is beginning to feel that way, isn't it. "Yes," she says, and is quietly grateful for people who make guesses and then tell you what the guesses were. "Singing at a bar opening a few years ago, I was getting some air and she'd camped out on the fire escape stairs with a book."

"Joan said I wasn't allowed to bring a book to the ball," Inaaya says.

Sano edges them subtly towards the couches, well away from whatever discussion is happening about psychiatry.

"What sort of things do you like to learn about?"

"Everything!"

Moving towards the couches now-- she smiles in the direction of Joan and Elsie-- "You were talking about math with Elsie the other day, I think? I don't have much of a background but it sounded interesting--"

Inaaya is very charming when she's enthusiastic about math and it's hopefully enough to paper over the fact that Simone was not as prepared for knowing this many people in this many different ways as she would like to have been.

"Oh, yeah-- I thought I was going to read maths at Oxford--"

"You were going to attend Oxford?"

"Well," Inaaya says judiciously, "everyone educated I knew attended Oxford, so I may have slightly overestimated how easy it was to attend."

Tiny smile-- looking at Inaaya to make it clear this is laughing-with not laughing-at-- and Simone wasn't lying when she said she didn't have a background in math but she's osmosed enough from her brother that she can ask questions that hopefully aren't completely stupid.

Sano doesn't know much about math either, but he's willing to make good conversation with Inaaya about it.

Inaaya is very charming.

"Hel-LO Mr. Sano," Emma Stark says.

"Miss Stark," Sano says with pleasure. Of course, he always says things with pleasure.

Emma is the daughter of a wealthy American industrialist, in spite of her... appearance.

She's also a promiscuous alcoholic who's an incredible asshole. If she weren't rich, no one would put up with her. God alone knows how many abortions she's had.

"Emma!" Inaaya says with delight.

"Inaaya! How's my kid sister?"

She grabs Inaaya in a headlock and rubs her hair.

"I'm doing great. Telling Mr. Sano and Miss Burr about Cantor."

"You found the one conversation in this awful place that's about math?"

"Well, it wouldn't have been a conversation about math if Inaaya weren't in it," Simone says sensibly.

"Well, now we have Miss Stark and Miss Sinope, so now we have twice the math."

"Right, Ichiro, because you're an idiot who doesn't know anything about anything."

Slight smile. "Perhaps so."

(He can't help finding Emma charming.)

Polite smile since that is apparently what they're doing. (She absolutely can help but find Emma charming.)

"I have a recent book you might find interesting, Miss Stark-- and perhaps you as well, Miss Sinope. A rare collection of star charts from the seventeenth century."

"Nice."

"You are both welcome to come by my office and take a look before I take it to a private collector."

perhaps this party was not, in fact, a mistake you can't think, that you'll jinx it; you get to be as silly and superstitious as you like in the confines of your own skull. But still Simone is happy with her math-related choices.

Inaaya's mouth is open. "Really?"

"Of course. I'm always glad to help a young scholar."

Meanwhile--

The couches are a place to sit down and rest your feet from dancing. The plush couches are softer than the threadbare hand-me-downs at your flats or furnished rooms; it’s nice to see how the other half lives sometimes. Couples sit, their arms around each other’s shoulders, their legs brushing together; with everyone in costume, it’s impossible to tell apart the queans from the women.

"The thing you psychiatrists don't get is that depression is the normal response to a sick system."

Carter is dressed as a monster no one but himself recognizes.

"And yet, somehow, not everyone in the world is depressed."

Leo is wearing a glittery mask and his normal outfit.

Terrence is not opposed to dancing or joviality but nonetheless he has gravitated, via natural processes, to his native party environment, which is the corner away from the music where the weirdest intellectual discussion is happening. "Some systems are sicker than others. We all find ourselves attuned to different parts of the world - surely that should affect the attitude as well."

He is wearing the colorful robes of an assumed Babylonian priest, complete with gold-foil diadem, and the addition of a matching magenta-fabric-covered mask. It's not especially accurate but it gets the point across. His beard is stately paper mache.

"Right! Exactly," Carter says. "Some of us are attuned to the beauty of our imaginations. And some of us are aware of the enormity of this sick, empty world."

"And some of us like living in the world that actually exists."

"There's no virtue in being well-adjusted to a world that is designed to crush the human spirit!"

"Perhaps you should find a new world to adjust yourself to, if this one serves you so poorly."

"There is only one world on offer," Carter says. "The response of the true aesthete is eternal discontentment."
 

Terrence is pretty sure that Leo Aarons is a leading Jungian psychoanalyst. He's read one of his books.

"I disagree! ...Well, rather. More that it seems as though the human condition is filling up darkness with bright things. Putting sea monsters in the corners of maps. I suppose you'd say that these are mere distractions from the horror of the shade, though."

Randolph Carter is a writer of mediocre stories which are published in the pulp magazines, mostly Weird Tales. His weird fiction straddles the binary between horror and poetic ode. He's from a good New England family, currently traveling the world. He has severe depression and spends a lot of time telling everyone that everything in the entire world is pointless and the only thing worse than all human science and philosophy and art is all other human endeavors. He was a military hero in the Great War; it's unclear how much this was a protracted suicide attempt.

"If the world had sea monsters," Randolph says, "I would have fewer objections. The so-called 'progress' of science is replacing sea monsters with nothing at all."

Terrence is hiding it but he's a little jazzed to be in this conversation and is trying not to make a fool of himself. He's also a little tipsy, which is not helping. "Giant squids," he says, eloquently.

"Instead of a mysterious monster, source of wonder and awe," Randolph says, "they're just another animal."

"If you can't feel wonder at things that actually exist you're going to be disappointed for the rest of your life."

"I am."

"Just between us things that actually exist, my condolences. --I see no harm in turning to fictional worlds, when the real won't do. That said, the human imagination has lead us to so many very palpable places thus far."

"Even fiction comes up empty these days," Carter says bitterly. "If only we could return to the mind of a child--"

"I think that is generally considered to not be desirable. You know. Psychologically."

"It would certainly make paying the bills harder," Terrence commiserates affably.

"I think you've undergone a process of classical conditioning," Leo says earnestly. "You've spent so much time disappointed at reality that you automatically feel disappointed whenever you see anything real."

"I think if reality didn't want to classically condition me into thinking it's disappointing," Randolph says, "it should try being less disappointing."

"I think you're really underestimating the giant squid here," says Terrence. "Have you - there's a tentacle in formaldehyde at the Museum of Natural History, it's ten meters long. Animal as it may be, if reality's your issue, it'll put the awe of creation right back in you. ... I use that as an example, of course, although come to think of it, if you're in town, it seems as worth a try as anything else."

"Do you think I am not aware of the concept of tentacles. I write for Weird Tales."

"Point taken," says Terrence meekly.

"You're just like the rest of them. Shallow and unable to see the deeper truths in the world."

He stalks off to the punch in order to get drunk.

Terrence is crushed.

"Oh dear. My apologies," he says to Leo.

"That certainly was a series of events," Leo says, rather flustered.

Oscar's no expert in interior design, but everything about this room reflects the expensive taste of whoever furnished it, presumably Lady Malcolm. He's torn between a sneering, automatic tangent about aristocrats (though what do you expect at this event) and grudging respect for taste. Then a vaguely familiar voice catches his attention.

"I didn't mean to imply that a museum visit would solve all the ills of the world - more that, ah, well, if you crave ineffability, there are places it can be sought out. But, well - uh. Well."

"Are you a man of science?" Leo asks hopefully.

"A historian!" Terrence says brightly. "So - no, not really. But my expertise is in, ah, long-dead documents and trying to reconstruct the beliefs and, I suppose, the mindset, of the people and the societies that bothered to write them down. The element of interpretation makes me think of it as, as a sister to science, at least, if I may. I'd call it a sort of sociology as much as, well, facts and dates and so forth," he adds. "You are yourself, yes?"

Jing Yi walks up the stairs. Good news: Terrence is there, and if he sticks to history, maybe they can all avoid discussions of that one banned French play. Bad news: Oscar is also there, and it is too late to back down the stairs.

"I am a psychiatrist," Leo says.

"Ah! That sounds fascinating. And, uh, trying, as well. Do you have, uh, a particular area, or...?" Terrence doesn't know a ton about psychiatry.

He is going to sit down next to Terrence and definitely not use him as a human shield and smile and nod like he knows anything about psychiatry

"Well, I'm really interested in behaviorism! A lot of the Freudian psychoanalysis just isn't really based on any sort of legitimate scientific research. People are just making up stories that sound good."

Terrence is confused but interested. "Ah! I took you for a Jungian. Fascinating, people - well, they are wont to do that, it's the peril of my own studies as well. Bringing all of one's own agenda to history and so forth. I can only imagine it's all the worse with the alive and well. ...Or perhaps easier, since they can at least answer your questions."

"Well, I work with the severely insane, so often they can't."

"Oh - my friend, Miss Jing. Miss Jing, this is my new acquaintance, who is dressed as a man in a suit." Terrence says this last part playfully.

Miss Jing waves politely and makes no comment along the lines of 'Nice costume.'

To Leo: "Goodness me. Such as that Alexander Roby case? I hear he's getting out soon."

"Well, it was never certain that he did it. The murder was quite... physically impossible."

"Sorry to cut in, but you know I've never thought Roby did it. Of course I didn't know him firsthand, but I don't really think we can judge character by what the state says. We're all degenerates as far as they're concerned."

Jing Yi is saying nothing.

"Oscar! Good to see you. True and too unfortunate. ... I must, uh, say, hm, physically impossible does make it seem unlikely that it was, uh, one man's doing, whatever judges or whomever else may think of his character."

"Good to see you, um...? Thomas, was it?"

"Terrence! You have the consonants mostly right, and all in order." Terrence glances around. He drops his voice, but he's kind of fondly amused at the possibility. "My friend," he asks Leo, "Are you here as a field study?"

"No!"

"I was just messing with you, Terrence."

To Oscar: "I was about to be quite offended, I'll have you know." This is a jape. Like, 70% a jape. To Leo, Terrence chuckles. "My apologies. I thought I hadn't seen you before, and the possibility would be funny, you have to admit."

"I don't... get... out much," he says uncomfortably.

"If you did want to learn about bohemians and those with unusual preferences, there are worse places." He keeps his voice high, both to pass and because Oscar.

Oscar is pretty sure Terrence has no unusual preferences beyond unusually bad taste in dramas.

A week after the ball--

The curtain time is quite late and the stars hidden as the investigators make their way to the theater and join others gathering outside. The audience draws from all social classes, all dressed in their best. The doors soon open. As the audience enters they are handed another playbill along with a cast list. The interior of the theater is gloomy with illumination coming from gas lamps evenly set around the red-painted walls and from the foot lamps below the stage’s edge. The theater is small but still less than half full — there are about a hundred people present.

Sano is escorting Simone to another event. Hopefully one with fewer People this time.

One Can Certainly Hope.

It's important as an artist to keep up with what others are doing in your craft. It's also just polite to go see what your fellow actors are up to, and practice not being jealous that the hack Walter somehow ended up getting cast instead of you.

Terrence is really sympathetic that Jing Yi didn't get the part. Absolute shame, sign of truly flawed taste on the casting agent's part. And he's serious, even if he's jazzed as hell for every single other aspect of the performance. He wants to meet Talbot Estus. He's also scoping out the audience, for whatever time he has before paying riveted attention to the play, for other audience members who seem like they might have read the text. He is speculating to whomever will listen about the few production decisions he knows about.

So this is the play that Terrence's been so enthusiastic about. Oscar's attitude is best described as morbid curiosity. If it's anything like reading the first act, the acting's going to be wooden. Can he get away with leaving halfway through? Theater-going etiquette: a bourgeois convention, probably.

As far as anyone can tell Sal's just tagging along because Terrence invited him. No glitz and glamour this time, he's dressed in his church clothes. He catches Simone's eye when he sees her but obviously is not going to interrupt her date.

She makes brief eye contact with Sal, and-- ah, yes, there's Terrence. Well. Maybe she'll turn out to like it and suddenly he'll have people to talk to about it.

Say what you will about the King in Yellow, at least Jing Yi got passed over for a role.

The lights dim.

A palace, a balcony. On a couch, once opulent and now faded and threadbare, reclines the Queen Cassilda. Behind her twin suns appear on the sky of a painted backdrop. Enter her two sons and her daughter. They are all wearing masks. The four discuss matters of the succession although no one is named and no one calls another by name. The sons argue and they complain to their mother but Cassilda does not give them the attention they would wish, and in the end she wearily sends them away. The talk seems to be one they have had many times before — the actors bring across a feeling of ennui, of going through the motions.

Ennui is one word for it, sure.

Terrence is vibrating throughout, even though he practically has the lines memorized.

It's not quite interesting yet, but it feels wonderfully unreal.

The secret to acting like you have gone through one very boring conversation before: a bad script, and lots of rehearsals.

Why does Terrence like this play so much.

The palace, Cassilda’s receiving room. The queen stands at a long table. She reads aloud from a scroll a report which names her city as Yhtill and talks of a war that goes on against the kingdom of Alar. The conflict has no end in sight. A child with jeweled fingers enters. It’s unclear if he is another of the queen’s sons although he talks to her with familiarity and even bullies her. They speak of Carcosa, a dreamlike city which is a place of several unusual aspects: it appeared overnight; it is either on or beyond the waters below the palace, Hali; the towers of the city slip behind the moons at night; on seeing the city one knows its name; it appears only when Aldebaran has risen in the sky; a sixth singularity no one speaks of. Cassilda sings a sad song about Carcosa’s fate.  

Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead;
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.

...The song, at least, is well-written. It's a little bit weird how good the song is, just in terms of assembling words, when you put it next to the dry and boring conversation in the previous scene and the clunky exposition? But some people are just better at wordcraft than plot, probably.

At least it's not Shaw.

The priest, Naotalba, and Camilla enter. He eyes the child with distrust but it seems the queen has no power to dismiss the youth. Naotalba describes uncertainty out in the city. A stranger has arrived, an unheard of event.

One Mister Michael Gillen, according to his playbill. Liven it this thing up a little, Michael.

The stranger enters the room wearing a mask. They talk more about the succession. The dialogue from Scene 1 repeats, now with more listlessness. One by one, when they have said their last line, each of the actors removes their mask in silence.  

Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.
Stranger: Indeed?
Cassilda: Indeed, it's time. We all have laid aside disguise but you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda) No mask? No mask!

!!!!!

???

:D

Sano is visibly tense next to Simone.

She puts her hand on Sano's. Also, what.

...this is at least an interesting thing to do with the suspension of disbelief and the way the audience expects costumes to work

Admittedly a bit creepy. But you expect a self-satisfied touch of the macabre with this type of thing.

The queen, Cassilda, is alone on the stage. She is quiet for almost a minute — very odd for a play — and then she reacts as though someone has joined her although no one has. She speaks of the approach of madness, and she talks ever more excitedly about the power of the king, the King in Yellow, and there are pauses in her conversation as though she is listening to another side. Then a second figure enters wearing long silk robes and a bone-white mask. She ignores him. Someone at the back of the theater shouts out and people in front of Terrence turn to look as the disturbance continues. On stage the queen now looks at the newcomer. She visibly struggles to remain calm.

The text is different than what Terrence remembers but somehow it feels right.

Terrence is confused but surprised to find himself moreover ecstatic with this variation on the text. He diligently keeps watching.

The white-masked stranger enters; Cassilda is oblivious to his presence. She begins a soliloquy in which she speaks of each of her children who wander in distractedly as they are discussed (they are named here for the first time): her eldest son, Thale, restless, contented and cruel; Uoht, her second son, flawed, ambitious, sensitive; Camilla, her daughter, quiet but influential. She bemoans how the family was only ever held together by the Yellow Sign. The theater is absolutely still. Oscar senses a tension in himself, something tells him a truly awful event is about to occur. As all the other actors save Cassilda leave, the silent stranger, almost forgotten in the shadows, steps past her to the very front of the stage. He faces the audience.

Has Talbot Estus read anything published since the 90s? This is... kind of unnerving though.

The queen greets the white masked stranger who appears indifferent to her status. She seems to know who he is and to have expected him, but is surprised he has come so soon. When she puts this to him he replies that, no, she is really surprised that he wasn’t here before. They talk for a period more but Simone realizes that it’s all clever word play designed to obfuscate a hidden truth and she loses interest in the dialogue as she considers what is not being said. A couple a few rows in front of you start whispering urgently. They gather their things then get up to leave. She is very annoyed by this. But actually she can sense a repressed tension in herself, too, at odds with what she would call this play’s understated portrayal of ill-defined events. The stage regains her attention, as the stranger makes to embrace the queen.

She's enjoying the clever wordplay enough that she's curious what isn't being said and whether anything is going to actually be answered in this play. She attributes her tenseness to noticing that Sano is tense.

The white-masked stranger enters; Cassilda is oblivious to his presence. She begins a soliloquy in which she speaks of each of her children who wander in distractedly as they are discussed (they are named here for the first time): her eldest son, Thale, restless, contented and cruel; Uoht, her second son, flawed, ambitious, sensitive; Camilla, her daughter, quiet but influential. She bemoans how the family was only ever held together by the Yellow Sign. The theater is absolutely still. Jing Yi senses a tension in himself, something tells him a truly awful event is about to occur. As all the other actors save Cassilda leave, the silent stranger, almost forgotten in the shadows, steps past her to the very front of the stage. He faces the audience.

Jing Yi was initially judging the performance a bit before, but honestly this is managing to be effectively creepy, and bravo to Talbot and Hannah Keith.

The queen, Cassilda, is alone on the stage. She is quiet for almost a minute — very odd for a play — and then she reacts as though someone has joined her although no one has. She speaks of the approach of madness, and she talks ever more excitedly about the power of the king, the King in Yellow, and there are pauses in her conversation as though she is listening to another side. Then a second figure enters wearing long silk robes and a bone-white mask. She ignores him. Someone at the back of the theater shouts out and people in front of Sal turn to look as the disturbance continues. On stage the queen now looks at the newcomer. She visibly struggles to remain calm.

The play is growing beautiful and strange. She's become fixated on it.

--She looks behind her.

The person has calmed.

The Stranger immediately throws up his arms to reveal the Yellow Sign painted on breast and sleeve and Cassilda collapses with an agonized scream. (Sal and Terrence notice that the actress wasn't looking at the Yellow Sign.)

There are gasps and cries from other audience members around the investigators and then the stage lights go down and the house lights go up.

A couple of audience members appear to have been overcome by mild hysterics and there is muffled sobbing from more. One or two gentlemen are conversing rather loudly about the play in deprecating terms as though seeking support. But many other audience members appear to be spellbound. Some people are going home, but not many. One woman who is leaving seems to be being taken out against her wishes.

She's shaking.

Why is she shaking.

There is no reason for her to be shaking. And Sano is looking at her and she needs to get herself under control and-- this isn't helping--

...Okay! This is not really how audiences are meant to react to these sort of things? This is happening anyway, apparently!

Terrence laughs, it's happy and a little giggly and goes on for perhaps longer than is conventionally appropriate.

He tries a couple times to speak but dissolves again, eventually manages to stifle it. "I- ahem - goodness."

That was creepy but took itself way too seriously and the mask motif has been a bit stale since like 1892. Also, everyone's a bit overexcited if you ask him. Have none of these audience members heard of Artaud?

It's over? That was so -- abrupt.

Lovely play, though. Very strange.

"Fuck," Sano says, and runs away from his seat.

The lights dim.

People are speaking and moving but Terrence can’t tell what they’re saying. The sound is distorted and lost; the shapes are only vague shadows.

He finds the play energizing and moving.

The principals stand in silence. Another figure appears in tattered robes: it is the King in Yellow. He is huge and he holds a sword and a torch that emits smoke but no light. He talks with the Queen and the priest, Naotalba. He announces that Yhtill has become Carcosa and all must wear the mask. The King disappears. Out of the crowd of fear-stricken guests runs the child. He goes to the Stranger who himself has fallen to the ground, and taking him by the hand follows in the wake of the King.

At least he hasn't read this part before. Though admittedly... the effect is a bit different on the stage, if he's being honest.

A masked ball is taking place on the palace balcony. The guests are finely dressed, intricately masked and they move to music played by the small house orchestra (there are some extras out on stage now to make up numbers). It takes a moment to see the Stranger, he wears a bone white mask and moves stiffly and without gaiety. After a while the revelers begin to take off their masks. Their eyes look bright and their actions are extravagant, unrestrained. The Stranger grasps the Queen by the arm and she collapses.

She's still shaking. Why is she still shaking?

Where did Sano go?

A room in the palace that has been taken by the Stranger. The surroundings are severe. One by one the principals come to talk to him. Thale wheedles and threatens in order to try and gain the Stranger’s help in pressing his own suit for the throne. Uoht tries to bargain with him to gain support for his own claim. Camilla wants nothing. She says she wants to listen, to learn something from him but then she does not listen. She speaks of Yhtill’s troubles. Cassilda starts to treat him as an enemy but then suggests an alliance, even a marriage of convenience between them whatever he represents. Finally the child comes in and stands mutely. The Stranger says not a word throughout the scene.

Hannah Keith is really good at this part. He is taking notes. ...metaphorically. The lights are off and it would be rude anyway.

He is focusing on how good the acting is as a barrier to stop himself from freaking himself out.

People are speaking and moving but Sal can’t tell what they’re saying. The sound is distorted and lost; the shapes are only vague shadows.

The transition from the ruckus of intermission to this odd impression of sound and movement feels like taking a plunge.

The lights go up.

"The play is over now!" says a voice over the intercom. "Everyone can leave! It's done."

Suddenly all is uproar. It’s as though a spell has been lifted.

...Well, he has no reason not to follow the intercom person's instructions.

Honestly he's quite happy to leave at this point. (But he does need to see if he can get in touch with Hannah some time at a later date.)

She's--

Why is she crying STOP CRYING--

Where'd Sano go--

Sal can't get himself to move. He stares up at the stage, unblinking, until someone jostles him and he snaps out of it.

Seven men and two women go temporarily insane: the symptom in six of the insane is a berserk rage and in the other three catatonia. Two of the men rush forward toward the curtain where they are met by stagehands; three others turn on members of the audience at random, forcing unaffected patrons to flee or fight to protect themselves. One assailant has a bottle, a gentleman uses his cane, and a woman scratches and claws; all attack indiscriminately and with abandon.

Oscar blinks. He has no memory of what he just watched.

...Jesus Christ, what is going on in here.

The point at which the canes and suprise broken bottles come out is the the point at which to leave swiftly.

Yes. Where the fuck is the exit.

(Who the hell brings a broken bottle to a play?)

Okay this is a little much. Time to attempt to gently and quickly escort his friends out of the building.

Somewhat surprisingly, the investigators discover as they flee into the foggy night, tables are being laid out in the theater bar area for an opening night reception.

She's still kind of crying but it's fine! It's fine. Everything's totally fine.

This would probably be more convincing if she wasn't shaky and crying.

(If that is where the bottles came from he is going to find someone else's hat and eat it.)

Once they're outside, Terrence makes his way to Simone. Rather quietly: "Miss Burr, are you alright?"

"I--" Wow there is no good answer here is there. "...I think I will be?"

Terrence nods and hands her a handkerchief.

"Sorry to interrupt, but... how long was I out?"

O_o

Jing Yi is making no jokes about Oscar's tendency to fall asleep during plays. Because he values his life. He is just going to stand next to Simone and try and give off an Aura of Supportiveness.

"What's the last part you remember?"

"The lights dimming. I guess none of you noticed, huh."

Either nobody noticed or they're hiding something from him.

Thank you Terrence, thank you Jing Yi. "I didn't notice at all, no, but I'm not sure I would have."

Terrence is curious but naturally a bit distracted, glancing at the entrance. Things seem to have calmed down? Maybe? "Excuse me," he says, and heads back inside.

"People usually watch the stage and not the audience, Oscar."

Terrence what are you doing. Stop. Why.

"So I was unconscious... for more than an hour, and none of you did anything."

"In our defense, you were unconscious quietly."

Oscar is possibly seriously ill, and he could have been hurt by any of the spectators, and nobody seems to care.

Jing Yi please just stop helping.

"I... didn't notice you being unconscious at all?" she says instead of that, with the uncertainty of someone who was not really paying attention to Oscar and whether or not he was conscious.

The police arrive and enter the building.

Well, that's fast and convenient.

"You didn't miss much," he says in a tone he hopes is reassuring. "The second half was almost totally unintelligible..."

"See, the problem is that being unconscious is bad for you. Also if I didn't miss much why did a riot erupt?"

"Excellent question."

He thinks if he saw it... maybe he'd feel better. The thought makes him sick to his stomach, but it can't be worse than everyone keeping something from him, something important he needs to see for himself.

"I'm going to suggest that seeing that the police are here to arrest rioters and at least one of us had a medical incident, now might be a good time to leave-- and I can retrieve Terrence and stop him from falling in love with the playbill or whatever it is he is doing in there. That acceptable to everyone?" Even if he does kind of want to know what happened next but-- He is not going to be around the improvised weapons, thank you.

"Works for me." Let us away from the police.

Sal feels twitchy and uncomfortable and she can't stop thinking about how much she wants to finish watching the end of the play.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar sees an image he can't quite place but that makes him sick to his stomach.

"Yes. That sounds like a good idea." Simone is often twitchy and uncomfortable and it does not matter what she does or does not want to do and everything is fine (and she still doesn't know where Ichiro is but that can be fine too, or at least it can be fine for a while.)

Time to go retrieve his flatmate from whatever foolish thing he is doing now, apparently.

"It was interrupted, at the end," he tells Oscar. "I don't think the play actually finished. Someone just came on the intercom and announced that it was over and we should leave."

He still has a copy of the King in Yellow. If he goes with them... he only has to deal with them for a bit longer, and then he can read it, the whole thing, as soon as he gets a chance to slip away. It's not as good as seeing it; he has no standout memories of the script.

But it's something.

"Simone," he adds, like he is just making conversation, "did you notice anything about the voice on the intercom? I felt like I'd heard it before but I couldn't quite place it."

"I-- yes," she says, because she didn't at the time but now that she thinks about it, "that was Ichiro, he said at intermission he needed to do something and didn't tell me what, why--"

It is not totally clear even to her whether she's planning to finish that "why do you ask" or "why did he do that".

Also, where is he.

Oh, she just went and said it, that's nice. It seemed like maybe it would randomly turn out to be a secret. "Maybe he couldn't take any more of the poor staging." ...What is the real answer, actually? That's such an odd thing to do.

"Maybe." That would be such a comfortingly normal answer.

It really is a bizarre thing to do, though!

"Poor staging" is bullshit, come on Simone. Christ, they're refusing to explain what happened in there, and their explanations don't even agree with one another.

"Why are Terrence and Jing Yi taking so long, I thought we agreed we don't want to hang around," he says. "What with the police."

"Maybe we should just start walking. Let them catch up."

Sure, starting walking works. "Next time I see Ichiro I can ask what on earth that was about."

(Poor staging is absolutely bullshit but all the other answers are at least that bullshit.)

"Let's go now, then." (He hopes they do not in fact catch up.)

Inside--

The fight continues; bystanders are intervening to protect the women and children present and prevent serious injury. 

Oh, that's... not great. Probably more important than meeting Estus. Terrence would like to find someone who looks like they work there and discreetly ask if he ought to call the police or anything.

"The police are CALLED," says Mr. Noble the theater manager, looking very harried. "I don't know where they-- oh, there they are."

"Stay strong," Terrence advises, pointlessly but passionately.

Well, he's not going to get involved in the brawl. ... Is the reception part still going on or has that been disrupted entirely?

The police manage to arrest the violent people and take them away to ride it out in the drunk tank.

The reception is in fact still going on!

The only people who are there are the cast and Talbot Estus.

Oh, hell yeah. Mingling time. 

Terrence wants to finish watching the play, but of course he does.

Talbot Estus is eating a canape, unbothered by recent events.

"Mr. Estus? I'm a huge fan. I'm so sorry to see the disruption, some people aren't prepared for real art - I never thought a stage adaptation of such a text could be as evocative as you have managed it; my sincerest compliments."

"I deplore what happened, of course, but it wasn't a complete surprise to me," he says, “any work of art should seek to inspire fervor."

He is going to make a beeline for Terrence. Why is he at the canape table. Why is he talking to people. How hard is it going to be to disentangle him. Damnit.

"So true, and yet so few can manage it. And the transformative elements! I was stirred. As an admitted huge fan of the original, I daresay you may have matched it."

"Thank you. It was always my intention to honor the work as it was meant to be performed."