Writ in Crimson Shadow

WRIT IN CRIMSON SHADOW: A Selection of Scenes, Presented for Revelia Carnivale

 by Ysarith Gavrelle Faendryl, translated by Lylia Rashere Faendryl

DRAMATIS PERSONAE: 

Astaphis - Asylum

Maron - Atlevro

Xyron - Claede

Caesilda - Lylia

Lissina - Missoni

Galecto - Nazarr

Sulian - Sulian

Tryphos - Sythenar

Vycette - Toxyrox

Melaena - Ysharra

SET DESIGN AND STAGE DIRECTION: 

Thrassus

Lylia narrates, "Set in New Ta'Faendryl's colorful East Quarter and in the fictional Villa Ribiani beyond, the play owes its lasting appeal to its blend of mystery, pageantry, and a cautionary tale about where loyalties lie."

Lylia says, "While the original production occupies the better part of an entire evening, we have chosen a selection of three pivotal scenes within it and hope you will enjoy this glimpse of Faendryl theater, or as much of it as we can carry this far north."

Lylia smiles.

Lylia says, "The full play contains many more layers of meaning and explores the complex relationships between characters, so any shortcoming or abruptness is that of the translator, not of the playwright."

Lylia sincerely says, "Nevertheless, we hope that you enjoy this taste of the fuller feast."

Lylia light-heartedly notes, "The Faendryl are not the only people who enjoy watching stories about the rich and wicked, after all."

Lylia says, "Allow me, then, to set our scene in context."

Lylia explains, "The play begins with a dire Igaeshian reading foretelling doom for the ambitious Lady Caesilda Ribiani Faendryl, an Emporion Spicer whose dominion over her guild is nearly absolute. With great power inevitably comes others desire to steal it, but Lady Caesilda knows no retreat; she does not bar the gates to Villa Ribiani."

Lylia continues, "Instead, she throws them wide, inviting merchants and courtiers to a grand feast, knowing that one must keep friends close and enemies closer. To refuse such an invitation would be certain social death, especially when the iron hand of the Spicers is extended, velvet-clad, to her allies and rivals alike."

(Lylia pauses briefly as silent stagehands, some of them imps, move barrels and awnings to create the illusion of a market street's stalls. A lantern graces one stack of crates toward the front of the stage, creating a warm pool of light against the deepening night.)

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out. You also see a painted backdrop of a vibrant street scene along a peony-lined avenue.

Asylum strides a few steps forward.

Lylia narrates, "In our first selected scene, Maron, an apprentice to master perfumer Melaena Varria Faendryl, makes his way through the more colorful portions of the Night Market to procure part of a gift for the gala. We join him now as he finds more than what he sought."

(Lylia bows slightly and takes a few steps back into shadow, allowing movement at stage right to capture the audience's attention.)

SCENE ONE

(Atlevro enters stage right, playing Maron. His robes swish as he wanders the market. He gives a shop stall nearby a cursory look and admires some of its wares.)

(Asylum enters stage right, playing Astaphis, a few seconds after Maron. He pays no attention to the market's bounty and instead looks anxiously toward stage left as if waiting for someone.)

(Atlevro seems to be considering a vaelfyren perfume flagon on the bourde-draped stall near him as extras move past, talking in a low murmur. He sees Astaphis and is about to hail him when he glimpses an old schoolyard rival, Xyron, approaching.)

(Claede enters stage left and, catching sight of Astaphis, hurries toward him at center stage. The two move toward one side of the crates as Maron ducks to the other, barely avoiding being seen.)

Asylum glances at Claede.

Speaking to Asylum, Claede hisses, "And you thought this was the best place to meet? Why not on the very steps of the Basilica?"

Speaking quietly to Claede, Asylum replies, "These pretty bottles can hold more than perfumes, Xyron. No one thinks anything of a pair of Alchemists at this end of the market."

Asylum waves a hand at Claede, dismissing him indifferently.

(Atlevro tugs his hood up over his hair, trying to further conceal himself behind the crates.)

Claede grunts, "Hm. Until they do. Anyway, what news?"

Asylum says, "She is after the wicked stuff this time, and plenty of it. Poppies and pretty ladies, and enough mastic to make it st-"

(Claede shushes Astaphis with an upraised hand.)

(Asylum gives Xyron an expression composed of equal parts boredom and irritation, but holds his tongue nevertheless.)

Speaking to Asylum, Claede says, "I don't need to know details. You buy your portion, I buy mine, we meet our friend, and no one in the guild's the wiser when they come together. Greater than the sum of its parts, ha! He mutters, If the guild Alchemists could put down the books and put their alembics to some real work..."

Asylum snorts!

Asylum dryly observes, "If the guild Alchemists knew about this..." He turns to the audience, giving them a broad smile and taps on the tip of his nose before finishing. "We would no longer be guild Alchemists."

Speaking scornfully to Asylum, Claede replies, "Sometimes I think it might be better that way. Learn something of real use, not dyes and diversions."

Prismatic silken streamers flow outward from a fixed point in the air, dancing through the air majestically. The streamers coalesce to reveal a nefarious dark elf illusion.

(Claede gives a startled yelp as the hooded figure moves closer to him and Astaphis, who backs away a pace to give the hooded visitor a wide berth.)

(Atlevro tentatively peers over the crates and recoils with a gasp.)

Atlevro whispers aloud, "A Nuncio of Dreamless Sleep? In public, without a partner?"

Asylum recites, "The patient seeker finds the six-petaled bloom." He looks expectantly at the hooded visitor. "That is the right one, I hope."

Asylum nods.

(Claede watches the robed figure intently, but the visitor doesn t seem to acknowledge him or Astaphis' words with so much as a nod. The illusion's dark robes and deeply cowled hood blend with the shadows, making it hard to find a single point of focus.)

(Asylum exhales heavily as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. He gingerly reaches for the item the robed courier left, taking the time to wrap a silk handkerchief around his hand before gathering it.)

Asylum picks up a sand-frosted pale azure glass vial with a domed stopper.

Asylum glances at a sand-frosted pale azure glass vial with a domed stopper in his hand.

Asylum nods slowly at Claede.

Speaking uneasily to Claede, Asylum says, "Speaking of diversions, I smelled some honey locusts roasting. As good a reason as any to bump into one another here, yes? And we saw no one else, of course."

Speaking shakily to Asylum, Claede replies, "I could be talked into such a diversion, at that."

Asylum bows to Claede.

(Asylum steers Xyron toward a painted mock-up of a stall toward the rear of the stage. Their voices fade as they move away, subsumed in the murmur of the crowd.)

Claede gruffly adds, "And maybe a drink."

A nefarious dark elf illusion unravels into prismatic silken streamers before fading away with no trace.

(Atlevro ventures toward center stage, his gaze following the retreating Astaphis and Xyron.)

Asylum exclaims, "I'll buy!"

Atlevro breathes in slightly.

Speaking gravely to himself, Atlevro says, "Melaena has to know, and right away."

(Atlevro rushes off stage left. As he leaves, the extras on the stage move away until the Night Market appears deserted.)

SCENE TWO

Lylia suddenly fades into view.

(Lylia steps into the lantern's circle of light after the players have left the stage.)

(Lylia holds the lantern aloft and moves slowly across the stage as she talks, its light obscuring the sudden flurry of activity in the shadows as the set behind her changes.)

Lylia narrates, "In the third act s second scene, we now venture to Villa Ribiani for a lively dance before dinner. Maron has reached his patron Melaena Varria with news of the nefarious Alchemists and their cloaked visitor, and she understands the dire import of their words."

(Lylia deftly steps out of the way of a pair of dancers in carmine bourde as the stage behind her fills with the rustling of silk and taffeta. Other dancers take their places as an unseen quintet begins to play.)

Lylia dryly observes, "As if that were not enough, she cannot escape her would-be suitor, the Spicer Galecto Canivus Faendryl, who has pursued her through half the villa's gardens - and all of Act Two."

Lylia glances at Nazarr.

Lylia remarks, "Fortunately, no ballroom scene is complete without its own little follies, as Vycette, her paramour Sulian, her husband Tryphos, and his would-be betrothed Lissina, among others, will prove. She may just be able to slip away unnoticed while attention is elsewhere. We shall see..."

Lylia glances at some painted scenery of a lushly appointed ballroom in deep perspective.

(Lylia lowers her lantern and extinguishes its flame, leaving the stage in momentary darkness until a score of mirror-backed lanterns along the stage's periphery blaze almost at once, revealing a host of brightly attired actors moving in graceful arcs across the boards.)

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out. You also see some painted scenery of a lushly appointed ballroom in deep perspective.

(Ysharra enters stage left, followed closely by Galecto, who is apparently in mid-sentence as he speaks with her.)

Speaking to Ysharra, Nazarr argues, "But Melaena, my honey-blossom, do you not think it may be better for your artisans if there is stability and support among our own?"

Ysharra wearily asks, "I am no one's blossom, Galecto, and I am already doing my part to ensure stability by being here tonight. How much support does an adamantine statue need, anyway?"

Missoni strides a few steps forward.

Ysharra mutters blossoms.

Nazarr replies, "Yet here you are, and - " He is briefly separated from Melaena by a pair of women dancing arm in arm, but continues his conversation after they glide by. "- and having given such a fine gift to our gracious hostess, or so I hear. Rumors about you always prick the points of my ears."

Ysharra glares at Nazarr.

Speaking wryly to Nazarr, Ysharra agrees, "Yes, I brought her some truly fine labdanum, and let us hope it helps me remain in good odor with the house of Ribiani. It cost me nearly double with the inlaid box."

Ysharra chortles softly at some secret joke.

Speaking cheekily to Ysharra, Nazarr asks, "Labdanum, or laudanum?"

Ysharra says, "Honestly, Galecto, I wish a seat on the Great Council, not to appear before it in mithril chains."

Ysharra looks over at Nazarr and shakes her head.

Ysharra gazes heavenward.

(Toxyrox whirls with Tryphos at center stage in a lively, reeling dance. They're briefly obscured in a whirl of colorful bourdes and satins, and when the other dancers recede, Tryphos has Lissina on his arm instead.)

Sythenar gazes fondly at Missoni.

Clad in silver ringmail shoes, Missoni's feet dance so lightly and swiftly that she almost hovers off the floor for a moment.

Nazarr scoffs, "Oh, it is only illegal because the Alchemists decree it, prissy as they are. Ever since that business with the Patriarchs' Fane and the melting caverns, they have grown too timid."

Missoni's face lights up with joy for Sythenar.

Missoni touches Sythenar.

(Nazarr takes Melaena by the elbow as they walk toward stage right, guiding her past the dancers whose steps have quickened with the music.)

Sulian glances at Missoni.

Sulian frowns.

Missoni whispers something to Sythenar.

Sythenar places a hand over his heart.

Nazarr adds, "And anyway, you look exquisite in mithril, outshining the moons themselves, radiant, resplendent --"

Sythenar whispers something to Missoni.

(Ysharra gives Galecto a withering look and shakes her head, seemingly about to reply, when a scornful laugh turns her head toward the commotion.)

Speaking frostily to Missoni, Toxyrox says, "Oh, have him, Lissina! Do you think he can cleave a stone and find wine? We already pinch coins so tightly, the Patriarch's face is bruised."

Missoni scoffs.

Speaking condescendingly to Toxyrox, Missoni points out, "Lapidaries do, in fact, cleave stones and find wealth to buy wine, which you would know if you were a wife who sees the value of him and not his coin-purse."

Sythenar blinks at Toxyrox.

Speaking to Missoni, Toxyrox sneers, "Then go and hold his coin-purse, and you will notice how meager it is, and how small. Taking you in as another wife would only lighten it further."

(Sythenar opens his mouth to talk, but only manages a syllable or two.)

Toxyrox snaps, "Oh, do shut up, Tryphos."

Speaking briskly to Sythenar, Missoni says, "Not now, Tryphos darling."

(Sulian offers Toxyrox a goblet of wine.)

Speaking to Toxyrox, Sulian consoles, "Your husband hardly deserves to admire the roses that have bloomed in your cheeks, my luscious Vycette. Come walk with me in the gardens, so I may admire all the blossoms."

Sythenar smirks and rolls his eyes in disgust.

Sulian flirts with Toxyrox, tossing her an inviting smile.

Speaking to Sulian, Toxyrox snipes, "Never forget yourself, Sulian, lest you find yourself the cicisbeo of some wretched shrew instead of a respectable wife. I walk where I please."

Missoni sniffs.

(Toxyrox stalks away to be lost in the crowd, some of whom have resumed their dancing now that the entertaining argument is over.)

(Sythenar wanders into the throng, calling Vycette's name, Lissina all but forgotten.)

(Sulian exchanges an amused glance with Lissina before laughing together and embracing. He leans in close to whisper something to her that elicits another peal of laughter, and they're swept up in the dance.)

Missoni beams at Sulian and laughs with delight, her eyes full of merriment.

Sulian kisses Missoni on the hand.

Missoni whispers something to Sulian.

Missoni flips her long black hair off of her shoulder, revealing a brief glimpse of rainbow ombre streaks beneath. When her hair settles, the delicate wisps of rainbow ombre are nowhere to be seen.

(Ysharra has moved to the other side of the stage from Galecto, having used the cover of the public spat to put distance between them. She declines a wine goblet offered by a passing imp, instead turning toward the painted doors on the scenery at the back of the stage. As she moves in that direction, though, a hush spreads across the room.)

(Lylia as Caesilda enters stage left, the crowd parting before her as she traverses the boards, laughter and quarrels alike falling silent as she sweeps by the assembled courtiers and merchants. She is the only figure clad entirely in black from her pointed shoes to the tapered fingers of her long gloves.)

Sulian stares at Lylia.

Lylia surveys the area.

Missoni folds her hands.

Lylia smiles and nods graciously at some of the courtiers in the room; Melaena doesn't appear to be among the favored few, although Vycette and Galecto are.

Ysharra gazes with awe at Lylia.

Lylia walks toward Toxyrox.

Lylia leans closer to Toxyrox and kisses the air next to her cheek.

Ysharra folds her hands behind her back.

(Lylia ascends a low platform built toward the rear of the stage, raising her at least a head taller than any of the gala guests. In turning to face them, she also faces the audience. She pauses a moment for effect before speaking in a commanding voice a bit more musical than her own.)

Toxyrox curtsies to Lylia.

Lylia grandiosely announces, "Welcome to Villa Ribiani. May each of you have such a magnificent time that you will remember it fondly all the rest of your days and nights."

Lylia airily waves a gloved hand.

Missoni winks at Sulian.

Lylia continues, "You have been invited for more than the pleasure of your charming company, but I shall reveal these mysteries at dinner."

(Ysharra stares at Caesilda with an artificial smile, one that does nothing to hide the look of mistrust and hunger that burns forth from her eyes.)

Lylia silkily adds, "For now, dance and whet every appetite and thirst, for I have such a spread to set before you. Even the most powerful of Spicers knows nothing enhances a feast as much as hunger."

Ysharra slowly empties her lungs.

Missoni gazes with interest at Lylia.

Lylia smiles slightly.

(Lylia gazes over the assembled crowd, meeting Melaena's eyes briefly as she stresses her last words.)

Lylia echoes, "None so fine a sauce as hunger, indeed."

(Lylia sweeps out stage right, and the candles lighting the stage dim in her passage, extinguished one by one to leave the stage dark once again.)

SCENE THREE

Lylia suddenly fades into view.

Lylia lights her blown glass lantern, causing the wick to ignite into a small prismatic flame.

(Lylia holds the lantern she s sparked aloft as movement behind her on the stage readies it for the next scene. Savory aromas of a feast fill the amphitheater, and from its wings comes a procession of imps bearing trays.)

Lylia narrates, "The last act and third scene of the play is the most eagerly anticipated by Faendryl audiences, not only for its drama but for its dining. It is customary to have bearers share the foods on the stage with our audience, and we invite you to partake as well."

Lylia says, "Please. Feel free to get whatever delights you, for what you see on the table is also on the trays our assistants hold."

Lylia continues, "Caesilda, seated centermost in Faendryl tradition, watches the feasting with a smile. The conversation flows as freely as the wine, and although some people do not partake, others are deep in their cups. Soon enough, she will speak her piece and share what was written in an Igaeshian reader's smoke and glass."

(Lylia lowers her lantern and briefly retreats to the wings, revealing a stage that has come alight with candles in fanciful silver holders on the long table that takes up most of the space onstage. She returns after most of the principal actors who file in, chatting and laughing, to take their places at the table.)

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out. You also see a verlok-carved red maoral table set with gleaming silver candelabra with some stuff on it and a sumptuous painted backdrop of an elegant dining hall alight with candelabras, each wound with a rich sable silk ribbon.

(Ysharra notices that Galecto is about to speak to her, and abruptly turns to one of the imps, causing it to fumble in surprise, nearly dropping a platter of grapes and fried locusts all over the table. She grins remorselessly, enjoying the interruption to the careful timing and elegance of the evening.)

Ysharra turns around.

Lylia gently smooths the skirts of her gown, coaxing away the wrinkles and restoring the naturally elegant drape of the black silk.

Sulian says, "I've not seen anything like this since the Palestra trials."

Speaking teasingly to Sulian, Missoni asks, "Will you offer me wine, or will I have to take what I wish?"

Speaking to Missoni, Sulian says, "You always do, darling."

Toxyrox shifts her weight from one side to the other, causing the faceted black garnets strung from her silver waist chain to clink together softly.

Sythenar glances suspiciously at Toxyrox.

Missoni laughingly says, "So true."

Sulian says, "But just this once."

Sulian turns toward Missoni and renders a sharp salute with his red Faendryl wine.

(Lylia gestures to a passing imp, who refills a wineglass here and rearranges a cheese plate for easy access there.)

Speaking to Sulian, Missoni purrs, "Thank you, darling Sulian."

Lylia says, "Such stories I have heard tonight -- what a delight you have been."

Lylia smoothly says, "Let me tell you a story in turn, then, one that my Igaeshian reader told to me not long ago."

Toxyrox turns an inquisitive ear toward Lylia.

Lylia recalls, "She pointed out a chalice knocked askew, its contents wasted." She illustrates her point with the flick of a gloved hand, tipping a wineglass onto the table. "Dissipation, misplaced faith, good will squandered."

Lylia smirks as a haughty expression flits across her face.

Lylia says, "The fourth arc, the arc of rule, contained an unmistakable jagged void as if something had been ripped roughly away, placed high in the chamber. Within the sixth arc was a scattering of needles, the marks of a covetous nature, pointing directly toward that void."

Lylia narrows her eyes.

Lylia muses, "Whose are the needles, then, and whose is the void? Oh, dearest rivals and dangerous friends, it was my own position she saw empty."

Lylia flatly observes, "Opposed by envious, needling pricks."

Missoni gasps.

Ysharra glances at Nazarr.

Asylum starts chortling.

(Lylia gives a brittle laugh, echoed by a few uncertain courtiers.)

Sulian says, "No worries here."

Lylia lightly exclaims, "But such a dire reading has little to do with a lively dinner party, surely!"

Lylia tugs at the fingers of her ebon leather gloves to remove them, and then carefully tucks them together in one hand.

Lylia double snaps her elegant fingers, the sound almost like that of a thunderclap as it invades the air.

Toxyrox takes a drink from her red Faendryl wine.

Speaking to Sulian, Missoni says, "I should not think so."

Lylia clearly commands, "The reserve bottle. Now."

(Asylum moves toward the table bearing a large, unmarked bottle of dark liquid, which he sets down in front of Caesilda.)

Asylum says, "The a...reserve, bottle..."

Missoni mouths, "Reserve bottle."

Lylia says, "I have watched you, my charming guests, as you ate and drank at my table. Some of you chose not to eat at all, despite my kitchen's best efforts to tempt you. How tragic that you have missed a fine meal for nothing."

Sulian asks, "Who has wine in reserve?"

Sulian asks, "At a party?"

Toxyrox nods at Sulian.

Ysharra stares at Sulian.

Ysharra says, "You cannot be this simple."

Lylia continues, "It would not do to poison such fare. The Spicer in me rebels at the thought, and I am Spicer through and through."

Ysharra looks over at Sulian and shakes her head.

Toxyrox gasps.

Missoni frowns at Ysharra.

Asylum nods approvingly at Lylia.

Lylia offhandedly says, "The glasses and cutlery, though..."

Toxyrox stares intently at her red Faendryl wine and creases her brow in deep thought.

(Lylia gives an eloquent and wordless shrug.)

Missoni glances at a glass of dark red Faendryl wine in her hand.

Sulian glances at a verlok-carved red maoral table set with gleaming silver candelabra.

Speaking to Missoni, Ysharra exclaims, "I didn't mean...!"

(Missoni slowly lowers her glass to the table.)

Ysharra glances at a verlok-carved red maoral table set with gleaming silver candelabra.

Ysharra gags.

(Lylia trails off and watches the expressions of those around the table. Some look at their own plates in rapt fascination, while others push away from the table.)

Toxyrox's face turns slightly pale.

Lylia points out, "Even one who feigns eating and drinking must still touch the tableware, after all. I would have hated to miss those who had both too little loyalty and too much caution."

Lylia says, "I went myself to ensure the work was done properly, attired as a Nuncio, and supplied my own key ingredient to a special formula I had in mind."

Lylia glances at Asylum.

Lylia smiles.

Asylum stares at Lylia.

(Asylum starts to gasp, and instead goes straight into a sustained and colorful string of Faendryl curses. He steps back, still worked up into a pitch-perfect swear chorus.)

Asylum exclaims, "You!"

Asylum points at Lylia.

Lylia holds her hand out in front of her, gazing at her elegant fingers decorated in an antique silver wedding ring inlaid with an amber cabochon. Lylia watches her surroundings under a hooded gaze.

Sulian confusedly asks, "What?"

Toxyrox curls her lip at Asylum, her face contorting in a disdainful smirk.

Lylia turns to face Ysharra.

Speaking to Ysharra, Lylia observes, "I saw your man there, Melaena. Tell him not to hide so close to a lantern next time, but I admire his loyalty. You have not swallowed a bite or a sip; he must have told you what he saw. It is not too late to enjoy what I have set before you, which is the same as my own."

Ysharra slowly empties her lungs.

(Ysharra takes the filled wineglass in front of her and, after tipping it to Caesilda in a toast, takes a deep drink of it. The draught puts a gleam in her eyes, and the lantern reflects across her smile.)

Ysharra nods slowly.

(Lylia grabs the wineglass she had previously upended and fills it with an ink-black liquid from the bottle Astaphis brought her.)

Toxyrox takes a drink from her red Faendryl wine.

Ysharra turns toward Lylia and renders a sharp salute with her red Faendryl wine.

Speaking to Lylia, Ysharra replies, "The wine is a fine vintage, well worth the wait. Patience has repaid me amply." As she sets down her glass, she stage-whispers, "And will again, someday."

Lylia nods knowingly at Ysharra.

Lylia announces, "Someone else is not so lucky. Yet I am not without mercy, nor am I so foolish as to commit a murder in my own villa with so many witnesses about. It is said that every poison has its antidote."

(Lylia sets the glass down carefully at the center of the table.)

Sulian exclaims, "Well it wasn't me!"

Lylia indifferently says, "Within that glass lies your potential future, if you are a traitor to me. Live on in disgrace or die writhing. Either way, I shall not suffer you past this night."

(Sythenar lets out a nervous titter, drawing a glare of naked disdain from Vycette and a dubious smirk from Lissina, who moves her chair a few inches away from him.)

(Missoni's eyes watch the movement of the glass, then she shrugs, unperturbed.)

Sulian gags.

Deep in thought, Toxyrox laces her fingers before her.

(Nazarr lunges for the glass with such alacrity that he sends silverware clattering to the stage. Taking the inky liquid, he downs it in three rapid gulps. All eyes are on him as he stands and straightens his cloak with all the dignity he can muster.)

Ysharra takes a drink from her red Faendryl wine.

Ysharra stares at Nazarr.

Missoni leans on Sulian.

Ysharra asks, "...Galecto?"

Toxyrox glances at Nazarr.

Lylia takes a few steps back.

Missoni gazes with interest at Nazarr.

Speaking scornfully to Lylia, Nazarr says, "Yes, I would rather live, even if it is in disgrace, Lady Ribiani. You have run your course--as any disease must, no matter how pernicious. I have friends..."

Lylia turns her head toward Nazarr to favor him with a silent, withering gaze.

Asylum says, "Oh, oh..."

(Nazarr pounds the table with the heel of his hand to punctuate his words.)

Ysharra says, "You have servants. And only until their day off."

Ysharra waves a hand at Nazarr, dismissing him indifferently.

Speaking angrily to Lylia, Nazarr insists, "There will be a new Council, and our voices will be heard! I want to live just to bring you to ruin, even if it blights my name."

Lylia narrows her eyes.

Toxyrox sneers at Nazarr.

Nazarr rambles, "The Perfumers - sorry, my darling - they reuse their materials, they should..." He breaks off, coughing. "...pay more, and your shortsighted way of..."

Speaking to Nazarr, Ysharra says, "Perhaps. But yours has just been crossed, I feel."

(Nazarr can no longer choke out his words at full volume. His eyes have gone wide, and he turns to Caesilda with a stricken look.)

Speaking hoarsely to Lylia, Nazarr whispers aloud, "What have you done, Caesilda?"

Lylia sighs, "You...chose this."

Speaking to Sulian, Asylum says, "Shush and watch, twit."

(Lylia paces the length of the table as she speaks.)

Lylia sorrowfully says, "I had hoped no one would reach for the glass."

Missoni casts a warning glance at Asylum.

Speaking to Nazarr, Lylia explains, "It contained the only poison. Only those who were disloyal not just to me, but to their own honor would be in danger."

Lylia shakes her head.

(Lylia's expression hardens as she watches Galecto choke.)

Speaking coldly to Nazarr, Lylia repeats, "You chose this. You say you have friends, yet I see no one else reached for your drink."

Nazarr wobbles, looking a bit faint.

Nazarr falls over.

(Asylum stops in mid-swear to smile broadly, before the next gag from Galecto makes him go back to his tirade.)

(Nazarr's limbs begin to twitch uncontrollably. Within mere moments, the twitching turns to violent and uncontrollable spasms.)

Sythenar stares at Nazarr.

Ysharra gazes with awe at Nazarr.

(Missoni retrieves her wine from the table and takes a long draught.)

Nazarr makes a choking sound.

Toxyrox glances at Nazarr.

Toxyrox glances away from Nazarr.

(Ysharra twirls her wineglass in her long fingers, watching with a blank expression.)

(Nazarr struggles to breathe as he violently convulses. From the whistling sound he makes while striving to inhale, it seems his throat is rapidly closing. His eyes burn with agony as he is bent almost U-shaped by increasingly violent convulsions. There is a sickening crack as his spine shatters. The tendons on Galecto's neck tense, but no sound comes from his lips he no longer has enough air to scream.)

Ysharra takes a drink from her red Faendryl wine.

(Lylia's expression is stony as she watches Galecto s terminal agonies.)

Nazarr smiles a hideous rictus of a smile that bars even a thin thread of air to the choking Faendryl. His eyes widen in horror, though whether from fear of death or from nightmares tormenting him in his final moments, it is impossible to say. Blood leaks from Galecto's eyes as he dies, as if the corpse mourns for itself.

Lylia walks toward Nazarr.

Missoni wrinkles her nose.

(Asylum has been muttering to himself all along, and had just been about to have a drink to calm himself when the sudden and violent end of Galecto spoils the effort and his aim, and he gasps, spilling agave wine all down his waistcoat.)

Sulian gasps.

(Lylia prods Galecto's form with the toe of her shoe.)

(Missoni passes Astaphis a napkin.)

(Sulian goes to hide himself behind Malaena's tall figure and the table itself, still gasping.)

Lylia silkily asks, "Anyone care for more wine?"

Ysharra smiles to herself, her eyes still glimmering with shock. She carefully hands what remains of her wine over to the same imp she surprised earlier, and exhales heavily. She turns her tall frame toward Caesilda and bows, a low bow of respect coupled with a pensive expression.

(Lylia lifts her goblet to toast the audience, with the poison flask in her other hand, and the lights in the stage go dim, shrouding her smile and the shocked expressions of the ball attendees into darkness. The last thing to fade is the outstretched, broken figure of Galecto, still frozen in terror and agony. Then, all is black.)