506-03-29 Phantom TP: Alcyone Murder

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The Alcyone Incident
RL Date	October 25, 2008
Players	Duke Raziel, Lachesis, Kali, Shayne, Dyonith, Serath, Kyrie, Coleridge, Catherine, Lucian, Juste, Melissande, Cynara, Elena, Bertram, Duchess Aileana, Duke Phineas, Empress Mena, Phaeton , Phantom
Location	The Grand Theate, Temple Plaza, Keeper East, Village of Gateway
Crossroads Time and Weather
IC Date	March 29, 506 A.G.
Season	Winter

Audience Hall - Theater - Temple Plaza - Keeper East - Village

Clearly the main focal point of this vast room is the stage that rests as the centerpiece. Thick red curtains drape in elegant folds ready and often set to hide what may be built behind. Gilded gold carvings surround the stage, a fascinating spot for one to study while waiting for a production to begin. Two aisles, elevated with stairs blaze a path through the auditorium from front to back. Amber colored upholstery gives a soft cushion for patrons to relax. The walls are stone, painted black with magical light globes used to light and dim the room as appropriate.

The young lady who steps in has red hair that has been ruffled by the breeze outside, leaving it looking just a little bit wild. Her cloak is left to hand behing her, since the weather is somewhat warmer, and she wears a dark green gown doubtless acquired just for the Opera. She steps to one side so as not to block the doorway, and then takes a look around at the audience hall. No gloves this evening, she does reach up to remove the pin holding her cloak in place as she marvels at the architecture and layout.

Phineas saunters in to the theater and considers its expanse with a dark and assessing gaze. His grin, subdued for the moment of examination, returns full force as he heads among the seating.

Footmen man the doors, dressed in fine livery, their white gloves prestine, their manner courteous as they assist in filing guests into the building, its massive wooden double-doors flanked by white pillars, lit by cheerfully flickering oil-lamp sconces framed in cut glass.

The interior speaks of opulance; gold and crystal abound, as the main reception hall boasts a mahogany table where tickets are both collected and sold to those arriving last-minute, programs are offered for a fee, but are themselves on a cotton-based paper with gilt edges. Crystal vases are laden with heavy white roses in full bloom adorn the hall that leads on to the ballroom.

On the way, one is liable to have any coats, hats, and so on politely taken off their hands to be stowed away, or offered fine edibles or drink in crystal, gold-edged glasses before one even reaches the ballroom doors. The official greeter, a fine Leurvian man is mingling with other finely dressed gentlemen, himself clad in an elegant, dark-blue suit and impeccably tied white cravat pinned with a blue gemstone at his throat. His long coat is a sober gray, but sports golden cufflinks and tassles at each shoulder, reminiscent of a military uniform.

Smartly dressed soldiers in uniform and Knights in their more elaborate suits stand poised at attention, stationed throughout the building and grounds, in halls and even in the corners of the main room itself, where the stage has been set for the evening's entertainment.

The Grand Theater is abuzz tonight. As the orchestra is warming up down in the pits at the front of the stage, highly dressed citizens and minor nobles are milling about, looking to take their seats. The glow orbs around the theater are at a medium glow, ready to be turned down, providing enough illumination for seating and settling down. In one of the boxes, the Leurvian Ambassador and his wife are settled in already for the evening, being tended to by a small group of servants, mainly for the heavily pregnant ambassador's wife.

On the stage, an island scene is set, a lighthouse, and the stormy seas cut out of wood, painted to prefection, the dark backdrop providing a stormy essence for the events that will transpire this evening.

"You're mad at him, are you?" Kali asks, glacing sidelong at the empress and idly twisting the handle of her parasol so that it spins.

Elena slips quietly into a seat, way at the back of the theatre; by the smile on her face and the serious cast of her eyes, she likely has a reason for choosing such a spot. She is settling into a chair just as the new arrivals file in.

"At who?" Mena asks of Kali as she steps in with her knightly cadre of escorts, her tone dry. "I am in quite a contented mood, actually. I have been looking forward to this evening."

Dyonith has made his way in and found himself a seat so he can watch, but for the most part keeps quiet and watchful.

It has been some time since Melissande has attended an actual opera, but that doesn't mean the ambassador's wife is about to let some habits fall to the wayside. Attired in a respelendant burgandy gown, it may lack some of the excessive frills known by her countrymen. Then again, all of that is made up by the elaborate curled coifature that her hair has been swept up into. With jeweled pins holding some of her hair in place, a matching fan is held in her right hand. Unfolded and gently sending puffs of air towards her chin, the woman's arm is crooked in a neat right angle as she glances towards those entering with a faint air of interest and perhaps a significant smile to cross her lips.

Having shed his jacket, but maintained both cane and tinted spectacles, Coleridge finds a seat in the gallery.

Mena looks around for a moment to see those gathering for the opera, smiling and inclining her head toward a few whose gazes she meets as she makes her way toward a seat as well. Duke Raziel enters the theatre just behind the Imperial Procession, and Kali herself. Again, Raziel's slanted, mismatched eyes regard the foreign dignitary for a long, still moment, before anything. Then, he bows low to the Empress, "Majesty," he greets her, with quiet sincerity. And, slow to rise, he moves to find his seat.

Kali wanders along with Mena as she neatly closes her parasol and tucks it beneath one arm. "Duke Raziel, but I'll persuade you for more on that later. How have you been? I have positively so much to tell you about some of my recent..travels." She looks about and gives a merry smile to those in the vicinity before lowering her voice to the monarch.

Phineas remains at the back of the theater himself, though he bows toward Mena. He saunters to one side to lean against the wall in the corner and shows no indication of pursuing a seat.

Catherine is another late arrival. Her cloak offered up while she look about the theater, marvelling to the grandeur. Her gaze soon glances about to find a smile, friendly face before slipping off to the side.

"I have heard vaguely of some of them," Mena tells Kali as she heads in the direction of the unoccupied box she only assumes is set aside for her. "But I have been well. I had another child. His name is Tomas." She does pause at something said quietly, eyebrows shooting up with interest. "I look forward to seeing it."

Rising for a moment to bow to Mena, Juste tilts his head in greetings. "Majesty, a distinct pleasure to see you here this evening. Duke Mists." he adds with somber smile as he moves to sit back down next to his wife, offering Melissande's arm a pat. "Sure you can handle sitting here the whole time?" he asks, a glance towards her stomach and then back up to her.

Back down in the orchestra pit, there's the tap of the conductor's baton as he starts to command the attention of his band. The lights of the hall start to lower in slight degrees, ushers moving diligently to show people to their seats, guiding the way with efficency and grace.

The light drift of violens start to play through the air, a last warning to the guests of the impeding opera about to begin. The Ambassador gives a warm smile, pleased with who has shown up for the opera as he settles one hand with Melissande, the other on the barissta, leaning forward with thinly vieled interest.

Duke Raziel watches the exchange between Kali, and the Empress, inespecial when his name comes up. His lips press thin, and he turns to ascend to the box shared with Juste and Melissande, to seat himself next to the Lady Mezelien. One guard left at the inside entrance, one moves to stand behind the Duke.

If the empire is an oyster, then the pearl might just be found at the neck of one of its heirs, if not an entitled Lady. Giving her obeisance to the Imperial party in the wake of her entrance, Kyrie ascends out of the deep dip and moves, without escort, towards the row of boxes reserved for the audience of the event. Whisking shadows split and separate to reveal her slim gown envisioned by no seamstress part of the mode of current fashion but something altogether its own vision. Crystals hanging from her sharply laced corset time her ascent of the stairs in pendulous motion by the time she joins the Leuvian pair, whispering something to them before the opera begins.

Mena gives a bit of a smirk to Kali as she seats herself in the opposite box from the Ambassador. "Yes, well. Thank you." And then she does quiet as well for the start of the opera.

In this box, Duke Raziel asks, quietly of the hosts of the Opera, "Now, forgive me, Ambassador's, for I've been away these past few weeks, and have only just heard of your interesting event. What, exactly, is the premise of this - Opera, you call it, I understand. A sung play, yes?"

Abruptly, a gamine grin crosses Kali's features where she sits in her box. She whispers something to Mena and lets her attention center upon the stage.

In this box, If her Leuvian is a touch unpracticed, her verbs are not the problem; every one of them has perfect tense and connection to nouns. Kyrie whispers in the native language of the ambassador and his wife, "A lovely evening awaits both, Your Excellencies Chevalier du Soleil. Please pardon that I come late by fashionable." It's a charming error of case there, honestly. Slipping into her seat with caution demanded not only the by waist-cinching garment but the implicit delicate of the gown itself, no more substantial than a moonbeam, she continues, "It is a joyous diversion and I mean to enjoy the experience fully. This opportunity is greatly appreciated."

Wandering towards the back of the theater, Baron Emerald Hollow leans against the wall next to the Duke, and subtly withdraws a silver flask from his hip, muttering something before he takes a drink from it.

In this box, "Certainly, beloved. You know as well as I that would have abhorred being in our suites to miss this." There's no mistaking the warmth in Melissande's voice towards her husband before regarding Kyrie and the Duke Mists - both of which are familiar to her eyes. "Good evening, Your Grace. Lady Mezelien, a charmed pleasure as always," comes the offering before the musicians begin to swell more significantly. "And you are clearly on time, I might add."

Bertram walks in from outside. The man leans back as he holds a flask in his hands. The man smiles a bit as he leans in the back right next to the door. There's a toll for this door! Yeah, right...

Catherine rests off to the side gallery. Her attention to the new arrivals and smiling to herself. She gives a brush to golden skirts but seems content to people watch.

Phineas reaches for the small container that Phaeton draws out, speaking in an undertone to his brother and watching the stage with some spark of curiosity.

Phaeton nods once and passes the flask over to Phineas, eyes on the stage though flicking about to watch individuals now and again.

Serath quietly makes his way into the audience hall after paying his dues, a little late as it were dressed in an array of violet silk finery. After a bit of a search he finds his way to a seat near the back, his gaze shifting about the room in leisurely observation as he waits for the show to start.

Lucian arrives together with Lachesis.. or they have been near the entrance to the aisles for some time, it's hard to say. It isn't until now that the gray-clad mage makes himself known, and that's a stretch considering his very anonymous presence. He steps up towards the aisles, looking out over the assembles dignitaries and various others but not heading for a seat just yet. He whispers something brief to the young woman at his side.

Early arrivals naturally had more time to mingle than others, but eventually all are guided into the ballroom, where they may take to their assigned seats in the sparkling illumination of a grand chandelier that dominates the scalloped ceiling. It is this chandelier that is darkened first to allow twilight to become the scene. With the ushers completing the rest of their duties and most everyone settled into place, the globe orbs dim to only a flicker of their usual brilliance, casting near darkness over the crowd as the crescendo starts to rise, the press of keys against a piano as a single light is brought to bear on the stage, illuminating the lighthouse.

Here a lone female figure steps out onto the prepace, closing her eyes and she starts to sing. While the words are all in Leurvian, and will require translation to most - it is the emotion she carries, the undertone of the music that starts to carry the lament of a woman that seeks something and seeks it desperatedly.

Workers behind the scenes start to move and adjust the scenery, creating the illusion of waves crashing against the rocks and the lighthouse's shores. The woman continues to sing, worried, heartfelt, soulfully calling out to the ocean.

Coming down one of the isles, a messenger checks the seats, looking for someone in paticular. As his attention falls on the Lady of Kraken Shoals, he makes his way down the aisle towards her, and presents her with a note from backstage.

To Catherine: In your hands, you have a letter. An invitation to come closer, to watch the opera unfold from the stage itself, instead of from these seats. To be there and experience it even closer than the royals. The letter is signed merely: an admirer.

Duke Raziel leans back after nodding something to the Ambassadors of Pais de Leuiver, and settles neatly into his chair, eyes fixated with curiousity and interest to the stage. While he may not understand many of the words sung, he remains intrigued to the artform, and the clever use of stage props, among other things.

Catherine looks over the note, giving it a curious once over before slowly rising. She offers a small smile to those she passes, nearly apologetic.

Kyrie arrests herself into a polite silence that comes as naturally as breathing, perhaps even more innately so. Composed, she hardly moves at all, inclined slightly from her perch betwixt the Leuvian ambassadorial couple and the Duke Mists. Stage and audience alike fall beneath her veiled perspective.

Lachesis finds her seat, a very dear thing for someone without that much coin to spend, just as the lights change. She takes to her place in the audience and appears unmoved by the sights. The music, though, captures her quickly and leaves her leaning forward and yearning towards the notes.

Kali speaks in soft whispers with Mena while the beautiful panoply of Leuvrian skill is laid forth, the tone not carrying, though sometimes it has the cadence of translation of the singing.

Dyonith leans back in his seat as he considers and waits, watching the proceedings quietly. Kali adds with a wicked little smile and that unholy glitter to her gaze, "Remember, I'm making it worth your while."

Lucian remains where he first stood, still looking up towards the gathered nobility. Slowly, he starts moving there, at first where others can see him without obstructing the view, but when that becomes impossible, he moves discreetely up towards .. someone among them, slipping between rows.

As the woman continues to sing, her heart poured into the lament of the words, from off-stage, left, there comes a second voice. Immediately, the woman silences for but a heartbeat as that of a male, deep timbre, revelates his call to the nobly dressed Lady of the Lighthouse.

Workers move, adjusting, not seen personally, but their actions are reflected on the stage as the bow of a ship prop is moved forth on the stage, standing on it, a young man, dressed in the uniform of the Tyrean navy sings back towards the woman, joy caught in his heart, relief that on these stormy seas, that safety and his love are both near.

The woman joins him in beautiful duet, their voices coming together to mingle and mix, as two intimate lovers in the most tender of embraces, the turmoil of their hearts, the hope that they will soon be together combining to rise upwards to the vaulted cielings, the single glow orb in the lighthouse pulsing it's 'guide' to the ship.

Backstage is little more than another room, but with the door open ever so slightly, a direct view of the stage is offered those within. A pair of plush chairs and a small table with a single red rose is set. It is at this perch that Catherine is led to observe the performance a small box of chocolate and other finger foods awaiting her, along with a small glass of wine and a bottle on chill.

Catherine eyes the room with trepidation. She keeps a smile to the tip of her lips, ready to fight. The dinner set not having the proper effect on the woman it woudl seem. She doesn't touch anything, but merely takes a seat.

Listening to the music, there's no lapse in the smile that crosses Melissande's features as her head tilts towards the Lady Mezelien and the Duke of Mists. With the fan poised high enough to conceal her lips, her gaze is still on the singer occupying the stage directly. Whatever is said appears to be soft enough to only be heard by the four within the box.

In this box, though she may be listening to the performance, the Lady of the Fang's heavy-lidded eyes weave between the amassed crowd and the few measures of motion from the actors bringing the acts to startling life. Tension runs a delicate cord lacing all the way up her spine for all the ramrod straightness demanded by her garments, afforded by her posture.

To Catherine: As you sit, but not touch the food, a figure steps out of the shadows. Dressed dapperly, half of a white mask covers the upper part of his face, hair pulled back to disguise him further. Folded into his hands, he holds a crossbow as he looks towards the woman and a thin smile crosses his features. "Lady Kraken Shoals, I bid you a good evening. I was sent here to kill you. Please, do not resist or try to cast, I'd rather you not die messily." his hand pats the cold iron bolt in the crossbow. "You would look hideous at your funeral. The food is all posioned. Do, eat, drink, enjoy yourself. The posion will set in by the end of the opera and you shall die, and be a beautiful corpse. You do know why you are to die, right?" He moves, to sit next to her, that crossbow trained on her. "Such a beautiful woman. A shame that your family cannot keep quiet."

[ROLL] Duke Phineas rolls 1d20 privately to Juste: 19
Total: 19
[ROLL] Kali rolls 1d20 privately to Juste: 13
Total: 13

In this box, the question from Melissande is soft, apparently laced with an accented voice, "What do you think?" As the woman makes herself comfortable within the seat provided for the evening's entertainment, the fan in all of its seemingly errant movements, finds itself halted and nearly brushing against her lips.

Why must they always resist? The woman mutters a few words, and draws her hand to a pouch. It isn't immediate what she does, but there is a shield about the woman, a barrier at least. Though it is unsure how it would fare to the bolt [ROLL] Phaeton rolls 1d20 privately to Juste: 12 Total: 12 In this box, Duke Raziel's eyes remain upon the stage, listening to the words, noting with quiet sincerity, "It is - quite interesting, certainly. Different. Unusual. Intriguing. I think I would enjoy it better, if I held some deeper gleaning of your language, Ambassador. But, pleasing, nonetheless," he says in low whisper to the woman.

Indeed, why must they? As soon as she moves to cast, the man fires off the bolt, the cast iron bolt ripping through the shield and tearing into her chest, ripping the fabric and skin, and piercing through her very feminine shapes as he moves to rise, the posion on the bolt more than enough to finish what the bolt itself may not do. "Good night, my beautiful lady."

Lucian finally finds a place in the center gallery where he can watch the proceedings down at the stage and listen to the music. There's no display of emotion across his pale features, simply blue eyes that watch with patience.

In this box, Melissande muses with a nearly imperceptible nod of her head, the jewels hanging from her ears following such slight movement. "Lady Mezelien is studying the language. I am serving as her tutor. If you wish, arrangements can be made for you as well, non?"

Aileana slips into the audience hall, her gaze slipping over those gathered. She does drop into a curtsey towards the box containing royalty before trying to discover where her own seats might be.

As the music rises through the crowd, suddenly, the drums rumble, a crash of the symbols to simulate lightning, and that bright orb goes out in a flash, only the dull glow of the smaller orbs to illuminate the crowd. The female singer's voice rises in worry and fear, her song turning to panic as she begs for the illumination to come back.

The man's voice tries to sound calm and collective, a yell of orders as the glow orbs rise and dim, the lights reflecting the stormy seas being simulated on the stage. He will be with his beloved again, and not even the gods of the sea can keep them apart! On the stage - workers move simulated rocks into place, the ship 'moving' towards them perilously.

To Phineas: From your vantage point, you can get a glimpse of backstage where Catherine sat down. Shortly thereafter, she's joined by a man, masqued, who is holding a crossbow. The two exhange words, and without preamble, he shoots her through the center of mass, as she is in mid-cast. Then he rises to start to walk away as she stumbles forth from her chair.

To Phaeton and Kali: From your vantage points, you see Catherine, the Lady of Kraken Shoals stumble from backstage, a saguine stain spreading violently from the center of her chest." to Phaeton.

Phineas gives a subtle nod to Phaeton, still as interested in the surroundings as the production. He notes the arrival of Ana, but then his brow wrinkles. He mutters something to Phae and slips off.

Fashionably late, Shayne slips into the seats purchased for the Locksley brood without fanfare. A program in hand, she flips to a page to make certain she knows where things are.

Phaeton is left leaning against the back wall as his twin departs, and looks over at his Duchess, nodding his head before pushing off and walking quietly towards her.

In this box, Kyrie makes not a sound save, "Your Grace, light." The very response of the darkness is obvious enough. Her own fingers are starting to move to a pattern not of easy making, splintering through the ashen gloaming as shadows are twisted backwards and forwards into being. Her dress hisses where she rises.

Aileana looks to the one that spoke to her and then moves towards one of the chairs in the back, seeming content to sit in the back.

The theatre has gone all out, it would seem. What may keep them apart, the stumbling of a woman to the stage. The golden gown of ruined to the center by a growing stain. Catherine doesn't stand for long though, soon toppling with an ineffectual hand curled to the crossbow bolt in her chest.

In this box, Kali pauses and watches the stage. "Oh," she says in a bit of surprise. "Someone just got murdered."

In this box, "Really?" Mena asks, looking back to the opera with interest. Of course she thinks you meant as a part of a play. "I didn't see that coming."

In this box, Kali clicks her tongue. "No, really. That woman is dying. Dead, I dare say. How interesting."

In this box, Kali is craning her neck, looking backstage slightly.

In this box, Kali adds, "I didn't do it."

The knights in the box with the Empress move quickly to surround the woman in their care, alarmed by the happening on the stage.

Catherine stumbles out, indeed, her body falling over the 'rocks'. The young songstress, the one that was singing in worry just a moment ago, of love, of hope.. her voice turns into a shriek of terror, hands flying to her mouth as she starts gibbering in panicked Leurvian, as the lights come up to show that yes, there seems to be a dead woman on stage to ruin the show.

Eyes closed behind blue-tinted spectacles, Coleridge listens to the music. Or perhaps he is dozing, as he does not react when the woman falls bleeding across the stage.

Kali emphasizes again to the Empress, "I didn't do it."

From the box, Kyrie almost vanishes into the darkness upon turning away from the stage, her garments bleeding her away into the gloaming. She's up even before the lights are, slipping away in a hiss of her skirts.

Aileana looks to Phaeton and then rises, heading for the exit as quickly as she came without talking to anyone around her.

Lucian rises as well, finding himself next to Kyrie after mere moments, almost bumping into her in his way down. Words are murmured from pale red lips, his hands reaching into his coat for something that rests there.

Wait, what? Opera and crossbows aren't supposed to mix! It takes Shayne a moment to process that what she sees is in fact real. And then? Then she stays where she is, watching what everyone else does. Phaeton rises once more and follows Aileana briskly, giving a brief not to Serath in response before he's gone.

In this box, Melissande stiffens abruptly, one hand reaching out blindly for her husband's and nearly missing the just as swift departure of the Lady Heir beside her. "..That, this is not supposed to happen."

Elena rises to her feet, a concerned frown on her bow.

Dyonith is up out of his seat a look of shock on his face, "What is this?" He calls out glancing around trying to find where that bolt may of come from. A angry unhappy expression on his face as he starts up the rows, knowing fully well its to late to save the woman. Moving towards the exits as quickly as he possibly can from the quickly raising panic of the crowd

Lachesis hasn't had the opportunity to attend a performance like this before, and for all the sudden movements and the lights going on, she looks around in confusion. She bites her lip as it becomes more and more apparent that this is not part of the show.

In this box, Juste catches her hand in his, looking to his wife. "Non.. it's not.." he says as he rises up, worry and confusion swirling his features. "She.. she's dead." he tilts his head, and murmurs a prayer.

Lucian has little chance; the Lady of the Fang touches him briefly and then is on the move, and the responding whisper barely audible in the least.

The Knights continue their defensive position of the Empress, once of them murmuring in a quick voice to her. She nods and immediately gets to her feet, the four trained men shuffling her out of the box and then out of the theater itself. All four of them scan the place with careful scrutiny as they lead.

Kali looks up as the knights arrive, stretching out in her chair. "I do hope I can catch you for dinner later, Empress," she says with a lazy wave. The knight who speaks to her gets a slow glance of measure and a sultry smile before she looks back to the stage and the climax of the show. "I presume that this isn't in the script? Your theater doesn't include deaths?" she inquires of nobody in particular.

Something that Elena says catches Serath's attention and he glances toward the stage. There's a moment of hesitation as shock fills the man, his eyes dark in that moment with a look of disbelief. One wouldn't be able to tell that in the midst of the chaos, however. Suddenly he rises to his feet as well, before he begins to bolt for the stage, literally ramming through a couple of people and knocking them to the side, quickly making his way toward the stage.

With soldiers and Knights trying to control the tide, one thing may become clear, the killer could still very well be in the theatre. "Noone's going anywhere!" a commanding voice calls out. "Until we get this sorted out, everyone is sitting tight!"

"Damnation," Raziels breathes low, rising quickly. He doesn't voice a farewell to the Ambassador's, but he quietly and quickly and begins to move down the stairs from the box he was located at, "Too late to seal the exits," he states to the guards near him, and his eyes scan over the crowd, looking for a stranger - someone that doesn't belong, or might be shrouded, much as the Knights are. A quiet murmur of, "Be safe, Majesty," to the Empress. He begins to reach a finger into a pouch - just in case, withdrawing a light crystal from it. He watches Serath run towards the stage, frowning some, looking agiain to the woman, then about himself. Kali's comment draws a shake of his head.

Shayne leans back in her chair, still watching those around her. She obviously has no intention of going anywhere, but she's not likely to go rummaging around the corpse, thank you very much. That one. Raziel. The duke.. That's where Lucian is headed, his words still lingering at his lips but never spoken loud. "Your Grace." The words are uttered as soon as Lucian comes close enough to be heard over the dim, trying to get the Duke's attention on him long enough to note his presence.

Dyonith is making his way towards Raziel more then the exit as he comes up near the man, "To quick and from above. You don't make a hit like this without a escape route planned out. We would be damn lucky if the killer was still here, or they stashed the weapon already." A hint of anger in his voice, "Give me some men your grace, we need to search the upper floors."

Bertram blinks a few time sas he stands there with guards looking at him. "Hey now, I'm innocent! I don't even have a weapon! Just a flask.", the man says as he flips a coin in the air... If there is still a killer in the building, there is no way the knights are allowing the Empress to remain. They press on toward the doors leading out of the theatre without pause.

Having been enjoying the rest of the show, Cynara's eyes flick to the program to try and find her place yet again - but only to hear the scream coming from the stage. When the young, advocate-to-be looks up, her gaze is directed to Catherine first...and then the corpse. She doesn't jump up and head out of the theater like the others - the panic and the rush stampede to leave would probably make leaving an arduous exercise. Instead, she tucks the program carefully in her bag and rises from her chair. Instead of moving for the doors, she'll move towards the stage. With so much panic, the danger of the corpse being moved or jostled is a possibility, and she'll do her best to try and prevent that. That is...if she can get close to the stage.

Darkness flickers around Kyrie as she moves through the crowds amassing for the exit, scything a path that does not preclude giving people a cold look to move away from her. She maneuvers towards Lucian, Dyonith, and the Duke Mists, the hurried undertone of her voice never carrying during the best of times; and in the worst? She's nigh upon inaudible. Loitering only a few seconds, she inclines her head faintly towards an edge of the room.

Kali stretches out on her seat and tucks her hands behind her head in a fashion both languidly relaxed and showcasing of her form. She looks much more interested in events now, observing the swelling chaos of the theater with mirthful interest.

Duke Raziel nods once to Dyonith, gesturing up, and indicating one of his guards to follow the Lord. Another nod, and his last and second guard sent with Kyrie, "Go," he tells both her and the guards. He remains where he is, though, eyes shifting this way and that with slow precision, as if looking for something he believes he might find.

Shock and dread shadow Serath's features as he approaches the guards at the bottom of the hall. He is not about to deal with any guards, they are the last thing on his mind. His hand lifts in a momentary focus gesture and then what was once Serath's form that was half walking, half running is no more, in a blink, Serath's form vanishes from existence.

Dyonith nods as he is on his feet and moving again towards the upper reaches a nod to Kyrie at that, "Indeed." He offers to her as he starts to check every place upstairs as he can

"Raziel. Shall I ask.." There's more words there, hurried words from Lucian to Raziel and he gestures down towards the stage where the corpse or what would be the corpse is located. He gestures again, then looks at the Duke expectantly.

Lachesis rises to her feet, but makes no move to leave. Her hand steals to her stomach as she becomes pale for a moment. With so much going on at once, she simply tries to focus. Her hand slowly drops back to her side before she becomes still and watchful.

On stage, Kyrie has left. On stage, Exit KYRIE

"Mages, mages, everywhere," Shayne murmurs to herself as the Mistian population scatters like ants from a kicked hill. The oasis of calm in the midst of it all, Kali, draws her attention for a moment, curious, before she turns to watching the guards.

Taking a good look around, at the chaos and panic, Elena realises that there's too many people running in too many different directions; her eyes flicker to the stage where the lady fell, but she shakes her head in quiet acceptance. Then she sits back down, watching and waiting.

Duke Raziel gives a sharp incline of his head to Lucian, stating, "Discreetly." Then, as Serath pulls his invisibility act, Raziel's lips twist, "/Idiot/." And, he holds forth a hand, fingers splayed in front of his features as if he were looking through his hands, through his fingers, to find someone. Kali's merry laugh sings through the air when Raziel's anger blooms. "Better and better," she sighs contently.

Melissande sorrowfully shakes her head while one hand settles atop her belly for lack of anywhere else for such a gesture, remaining in the box and seated. Quietly, the fan is closed as her voice quietly murmurs to her Leuvian husband.

Lucian slowly starts walking down towards the stage and the corpse. If someone stands in his way, he simply waits, patiently, until he can move through. He seems to have a way of his that allows him to slip past the worst of the chaos, perhaps due to his serene and completely relaxed demeanor in contrast to all the chaos - the chaos a storm raging around him and he resides in it's eye.

Bertram continues to sit there. Yeah, he's the odd one there, but he's safe. The man couldn't fire a crossbow to save his life. In this case, it probably will save his life, but thats beside the point...

"Serath Evanor," states the Duke of Mists, in a cold voice, sharp, cutting, "Uncloak yourself, if you do not wish to spend the rest of the duration of your life within a jailcell. Now." Anger, but controlled, even, and paced laces Raziel's warning, and words.

Kali provides the sing-song addendum to Raziel's words of, "You'd best come out, come out, wherever you are, Serath. Duke Raziel has the temprament to follow through on his words."

Someone down in the cheap seats turns to his companion and speaks just a little bit too loudly, "You know, I think I saw that Duke Green Fields - you know, the one with the marks on his face sneaking out just before that body stumbled out."

Lachesis leans forward to peer down the aisle at the man who just spoke as if he may have just jumped up saying yay, I have a death wish.

Melissande whispers: Do you think there is anything we should do, Juste?

Serath's form comes into existence around the same time coincidentally as the Duke addresses him. Whether it was in response it is not certain. What people would be able to see however is he is not at the base of the hall. He is kneeling next to Catherine's body now. Her hand is set in his own and his head is bowed over Catherine's. With his face shrouded from view it is impossible to see what the man is feeling or thinking in those moments, his emotions hidden from view. He does not appear to be doing anything hostile, he just kneels there, as quiet and still as the coldest winter's night.

Lucian has reached the corpse and is crouching down with the guards and various others who are protecting the scene where she fell. He speaks to the guards, exchanging a few words and indicates Raziel before he's let through. After all, she's already dead, what could he do? .. Right? The mage ends up sitting there silently, studying the corpse for a few long moments. Since Serath is there, he looks up at the man and whispers something.

You whisper, "..I.. I'm not sure there is anything we can do, beloved." to Melissande.

Seeing no one really in her way to head up the stage, Cynara walks up, taking in the state of it. There had been a lot of money invested in the production, and it shows in the quality of the sets. Her eyes move to the exits first, and then where Catherine had fallen earlier, and then the corpse itself. She sees no one, and she looks a little relieved that the corpse hadn't been touched. Moving over, she crouches near it, taking in the state of it. Her gaze is mostly focused on the crossbow bolt. "Shot through the front," she murmurs - hearing orders from the Duke of Mists barked somewhere in the audience area. Her eyes wander over to the make of the bolt that she sees sticking out of the chest. Conclusions are kept silent, but she does spy something on the woman's hand. When she reaches out to try and get a better look...

She jerks backwards, sliding back when she feels something solid but -not there-. Her heart leaps into her throat, having really not come across this phenomenon before. What.

As the guards and knights get to checking people, they're finally starting to be shuffled out a few at a time, as Juste watches Melissande worriedly for a moment. "You alright?" he mouths to her.

Duke Raziel glances toward Kali, at her pronunciation of his temprament, and he merely fixates her with an unexpressive glance, as if he were conveying something to her - or, relating with something spoken. He takes a slow breath, as Serath reappears, and he nods, once. He then notes, "It is all too likely, as was spoken, the assailant left, long before she emerged." A faint grimace creases his expression as people speak out against the Duke of Green Fields so candidly. Whether he agrees or not remains unspoken.

Kali clicks her tongue when she sees Serath on the stage. Her lips part with a wicked light to her eyes, but as she watches him for a few more moments, the light fades a bit and her mouth closes.

Dyonith makes his way down from upstairs after a bit and shake his head, "Not a thing." He offers to Raziel as he considers, "The Ducal pair for Green Fields did leave almost instantly." He offers to the duke, 'Your grace, has anybody else found anything yet?"

When Serath reappears, Cynara makes no move to touch the body or examine it further, but her gaze does fall on the bolt sticking out of Lady Catherine's chest. She makes no move to address the man, or press her inquiries, but her jaw sets when realization dawns on her. She turns around, and leaves the stage.

Elena's eyes settle on Serath, as he leans over the body of the fallen lady. She looks down, letting her hair fall over her face for a moment, and then looks up again, her expression quite somber now; there's moisture in her eyes. She picks out one or two of the audience who are making the hateful comments with her gaze, though she remains where she is (as originally directed), for the moment with her hands clasped in front of her.

Shayne is still quiet, still watching, trying to see where order begins to emerge from chaos. Cynara pages: Have they found the escape route yet? XD Long distance to Cynara: Juste gathers their okays.

Cynara leaves Theater Hall. Cynara has left.

Kali looks toward Raziel finally and offers the idle question, "Did the female have any enemies that you can note?"

Lucian frowns at what he sees and seems to detect but does not say anything. After a few moments, he rises up: "Guards, I need to investigate this body. Move her to a place out of sight for the masses, behind stage, anywhere where I can be discreet in a quick investigation." Determined, hard words. He gestures with a hand to Raziel: "You. Go to the Duke's personal guards if you wish confirmation that I am allowed to investigate. Meanwhile, you move her." He gestures to the others.

"They say we must stay her, oui," Melissande whispers, still unable to stop watching those investigating below before looking to Juste with a soft, but brief smile. She's fine. Concerned, given the look in her eyes towards him before the activity draws her once more into the actions below. "Though, we should give them room to work once the guards say we must leave."

"The one known to hold ill upon her was destroyed," Raziel comments, in quiet measure to Kali. "Someone who threatened many of the Lords and Ladies of my Isle with blending humans and demons into one singular twisted entity. His work was more vile, and crude than this." He watches the corpse, something of anger, and loss reflected in his gaze, now. "She was an honorable Lady. She will be missed." Another pause, from him, as if he were speaking to himself - or, perhaps, to Kali alone. "Her murderer will be found."

Serath still lingers next to the body, regardless of his surroundings or unlikely, albeit amusing necrophilia innuendo within the theatre. He remains quiet, his features hidden from view. He doesn't seem to notice Lucian's approach at all.

Dyonith shakes his head a bit at that, 'She had other enemies I believe your grace. though I know not who they were." He offers moving over towards the stags, "Heed his orders." He calls out to the guards as he makes a motion fo the one following him to help, "Any word from the Lady fo the Fang yet?"

"Oui." Juste says quietly to Melissande, as the knights start to make priority to get the nobles and families cleared and out of the theater.

Kali watches at the stage a few moments before she looks toward Raziel. In one undulation of sultry perfection, she rises from her sprawl and walks toward him, her folded parasol tapping against the ground with every other step. "Things have changed, it seems. You have new fashion statements." Her sly smile considers him. "The passion to find her murderer doubtless serves you well, Your Grace." She tips her head back to look up at his features.

Bertram looks around. "I'm allowed to go, right?", he asks one of the guards.

"Yer staying here until the nobles decide to leave, or say you can go, boy." one the knights growls at Bertram.

Remaining where she is, without even bothering to ask for permission to leave, Elena leans her back against the wall, and closes her eyes.. she's not sleepy, but frowning and serious. Her hands remain clasped in front of her, quite composed as she waits.

Bertram yawns a bit. "Alright, alright.", he says. The man takes a seat in a chair, takes a pull on the flask. He kicks his feet up. The man seems to be perfectly at home.

A group of guards approach Serath and the body. "..we need to get her to the morgue." one of them says, not exactly a request.

Duke Raziel shakes his head to Dyonith, "No, will you go check on her, Lord, and see what - if anything the Lady has discovered?" A nod to the man, of thanks, before his eyes first drift to Lucian, telling the Knight, "We will have some more information soon, Sir Knight." Ambigious enough to lend creedence to something the Duke knows will be found, or thinks will be found, before the ranking nobleman here will consent to anyone's particular release. To Kali, he remarks, "You have ever known me as a passionate man, have you not, Princess? But few things ever remain the same. And some changes are larger than we are, and uncontainable." Enigmatic, if nothing else.

Shayne leans back in her seat, pretending to flip through her program as she watches the cogs of the Gateway clockwork turn, noting who takes orders from whom, what gets done first. Utterly inappropriate, yes, but Kali bursts into laughter. "If your change is that large and uncontailable, Your Grace," she purrs with amusement, "I'll look forward to talking to you about it later."

Lucian mutters something at the lack of response from the guards, the mage leans down closer to instead simply hide what he's doing. No moved corpse means he has to investigate her there. He lowers his hands to her eyes, fingertips touching them.. his other hand opens the small bag he brought up from his pocket and places it next to her face. It looks like he's closing her eyes and concluding that she's dead to most with the only side-effect being that he's also speaking words, sounding like a strange occult language.

Dyonith nods to the duke, as he starts for the backstage after where Kyrie has gone in a attempt to find her with the guard following him. A glance to Lucian as he passes, just a nod almost like he knows what the man is up to as he passes over and into the backstage area on alert

On stage, Exit DYONITH

Duke Raziel does not seem to share Kali's humor, his own mood serious, attentive. "Perhaps at that time, such can be arranged, Highness. But, tell me. Did you not sense anything unusual, before the Lady met her fall?" He does not deny her the approach towards him, but neither does the Duke close the distance towards her, either.

To Lucian: Catherine's last moments. A message to invite her backstage. Two chairs. A table. A rose. A man in half a mask, covering his features. A reach for her pouch, the bolt piercing her chest before she can cast, and a stumble out onto stage.

Serath doesn't turn when the guards address him, nor when Lucian kneels down next to him, though he does rear back a little now. His eyes are damp with tears and they soon turn to study the crossbow bolt sticking out of her chest. Her hand still lingers within his own, however. He does eventually turn to Lucian. There is no emotion that shows in his eyes in that moment, just cold, dark pits, his voice ever so soft, it is not a demand, rather a warning, "Do not bring any further harm onto her, Lucian."

"I? I saw her before she stumbled out from backstage. I had wondered if it was part of the production at first. If you're asking about magic, nothing significant enough to draw my attention." Kali looks toward the stage where Serath is near the body, her head tilting to the side. "He was her beau?"

As more order emerges, Shayne moves to stand, weaving her way through the crowd toward Raziel and Kali to sink into a polished curtsey. "Your Highness, your grace," she murmurs in greeting, lingering a polite distance away and waiting for acknowledgement before saying more.

Finally, the crowd peters down to where anyone that needs or wants to leave, can. There seems to be no killers in the audience tonight.

Lucian glances up to Serath and just nods before he closes his eyes. There's a flickering of eyelashes for many a long seconds, the gray-clad mage sitting completely still with his fingertips resting over her eyes, keeping them closed. There's a hint of a wind that tugs at some bone-white powder, maybe just a trick for the eye near her face, a small swirl before it dies down.. After twenty seconds have passed, the eyes of the gray-clad investigator pops open. Lucian stares blankly at the air in front of him for a second before he stands up straight, fingers leaving her face. "No more harm was done," comes his quiet reply before he turns on the spot and moves towards Raziel.

Moving away from the wall, eyes open once again, Elena starts towards the exit. Her expression is somber as she moves, and she pauses as she draws close enough to the gathered nobles who remain; she curtseys, formal and graceful, and then starts on towards the door her eyes lingering just briefly on Duke Raziel.

Duke Raziel inclines his head to Kali, giving her a thoughtful look, but seeming satisfied with that. "Miss Locksley," he replies, nodding slowly then to Lucian as he approaches.

Kali continues to watch Serath with a troubled expression before she gives a little wrinkle of her nose and turns her eyes away. Shayne is the next consideration. "Miss Locksley, is it? You knew me in advance. I'm so honored, though I suppose that reputation is a powerful thing. Merry met. Which of these fascinating isles are you from?" She subdivides a part of her attention to note Lucian's approach with keen-eyed interest.

Serath's eyes close again when Lucian departs and he bows his head once more, muttering incomprehensible beneath his breath, holding Catherine's hand tightly. Finally, Serath rises to his feet and steps away to allow the guards to have her. His jaw is locked, tense and he gives the guards a nod as if to comply, watching in still silence.

Lucian smoothly walks up to Raziel, carrying himself with the same serenity that seems like a rarity at a series of events like this. When he's stopped, he looks at the Duke with a question in his eyes.. "Wish to hear me here or elsewhere?" A glance at the people surrounding them, especially Kali and eventual other non-guard individuals.

"Guardian, your highness," Shayne smiles politely to Kali. "Of Locksley Trading. And having met your brother, I could hardly mistake your highness. Your grace," she adds in a lower tone, the murmuring volume appropriate to an offer without truly interupting, "If you require my assistance for anything, you have only to ask." Since Lucian approaches, she doesn't close the distance, doing her best not to intrude.

"Here suffices, if you are comfortable with that, Master Acinthas," Raziel allows. "If not, we can move to another locale." A slow nod to Shayne,t hen, "I very well may," he answers in kind. "Your aid would be appreciated."

Serath finally takes his leave of the stage. There is a calm, purposeful fluidity to his stride as he does so, his eyes drifting acrossr the various people in the theatre, but his focus seems to be centered around Lucian now. He quickly closes the distance, offering a cordial bow to Raziel, his voice void of any emotion whatsoever, "Your grace. Master Acinthas. I would respectfully offer my services and support here, I would urge you to take it.."

"She was shot by a crossbow at armslength by a masked man. The crossbow bolt was poisoned, resulting both in severe trauma from the actual wound and then the resulting death from poison. She did not see where he went after he had fired the bolt, but a man in a half-mask who had entered there should be relatively easy to remember for those there. No one else seems to have been there to witness it." Lucian's words are short and to the point, reporting these strange facts to the Duke with a face that suggests nothing of emotion. Only then does he notice Serath's approach and turns his head towards him, giving him a slight nod of greeting or acknowledgment.

"Those who had seen him enter, that is, would be able to remember him. Even if he was most likely not masked at that point, but he was still alone." Lucian corrects with a sharp nod.

"You've met my brother? I don't know whether to apologize to you or not." Kali's soft laugh sounds again, but is checked as Serath draws near. She taps a finger against her lip while she studies him. "Poor man," she breathes, and the words are oddly lacking in mockery. She considers Lucian again at his detailing, and the pale eyes of the princess darken some measure while she listens, her smile turning salacious.

"He was pleasant enough," Shayne assures Kali with a wry smile, though the expression is subdued in respect to those arriving with further information. "That seems odd," she notes after Lucian's explanation. "You don't poison a bolt if you're firing so close you can't miss. You poison a bolt you're shooting from a distance. Perhaps she wasn't the intended target."

Duke Raziel offers, "You do if you want her to die painfully," in quiet measure. He nods slowly to Lucian, "Well done, my friend. Well done. Little enough to go on, but, more than we had. Doubtless, the mask was removed, either discarded, or hidden. It would behoove us to find it. In the meanwhile, I would suggest keeping that crossbolt. It may have something of his upon it we can use to find him." A grimace, and he draws in a breath, noting to Serath, "You will be involved, Master Evanor, if there is hunt, or party to find him. Yes."

"Or," Kali speculates, "if you just want a backup."

"It was fired at armslength," Lucian simply repeats. "They were alone there, the two of them, and he fired with no other targets nearby. It could have been to make sure that she died, since he could not risk another shot, and did not want any witnesses. I could study the poison, but others are probably more suited at it, now that it has run it's course." Kali's words receive a nod from him as well, his blue eyes giving her a very quick study before they return to the Duke.

Kyrie enters from outside. Kyrie has arrived.

At some point, the Leuvian ambassador and his wife must have taken their leave from the theater accompanied by those in service to that particular household. Namely, the pair of guards in white who follow attentively.

"For the five seconds it takes to perish of a crossbow bolt to the heart?" Shayne arches a brow at Raziel. "If you wanted a painful death from the poison, you'd shoot somewhere decidedly less vital." Not that she'd...know. Or anything. "I don't know if the Lady had enemies, but the crowd here was full of prime targets, and backstage would provide cover for a shot. If the Lady didn't have expected enemies, it's worth considering." She shrugs, though, taking a step back. "If your grace requires assistance, you know where to reach me," she notes, sinking into a curtsey and moving to depart.

"Thank you, Miss Locksley," Raziel states, with a measure of certain sincerity. His eyes shift thoughtfully to Kali, and he gives the pale woman a slow nod of consent. "Backup is always useful, Your Highness." He exhales, "I think we have everything we're going to get here, now. Let us wait and see what the Lady and Lord discovered in the back, first."

Lucian is standing with Raziel, Kali, Serath and a departing Shayne. The gray-clad mage seems to have finished speaking and is now merely standing there, providing a demeanor as detached as a stone wall and hands that are kept at the sides of his gray coat. His attention is at the stage now that there seems to be people returning.

Serath nods to Raziel, accepting that answer for now. His eyes trail to Kali, studying her for a moment and the man falls into an uneasy silence as he stands there, as still as a statue. His eyes move back toward the stage every so often and that is when he notices Kyrie approach.

Dyonith is the unfortunate fool to be walking with the Lady of the Fang as he exits off the stage. yet he looks alive, healthy and breathing for the most part. The guards are a ways behind them but they are there. A nod to Raziel, but he doesn't say anything letting the lady speak first of course

Kali gives a little finger-wriggle wave of farewell to Shayne. "Merry met, merry parted, and hopefully merry met again Miss Locksley," she calls with cheer. Now she looks at Lucian again, her study of him half-lidded. She speaks something in a whisper that carries nicely to Raziel despite her not being near his ear.

Redux: One of the Mistian guards dispatched earlier stumbles after in the shorter individual's wake. Sans blood, at least mostly, Kyrie /does/ return, with the guard probably not very content about trying to catch up hastily with her through all the props and various bits laid out. Her expression isn't terribly readable beyond that faint smile, broaching a smirk, heavy-lidded eyes shot through by writhing argent motes. Taking a moment to gain her surroundings, she starts towards the knot of people, beginning with Lucian and Raziel.

"I look forward to meeting with you again, your highness," Shayne murmurs to Kali, a brief smile touching her features, before she turns to depart.

Duke Raziel's eyes shift momentarily to Kyrie, then to Kali as she whispers - and, finally, back to Kyrie again. "Perhaps," he says, strangely, and no more. "We can speak about it later, if that is your desire, Highness." And, with that, he asks of Kyrie and Dyonith both, "And what have you found, of worth? Anything, Lord and Lady?"

Cynara enters from outside. Cynara has arrived.

At all these mighty titles spoken when talking to Kali, the woman finally gets some of Lucian's real attention now that his business is concluded with corpses and all. His chilly blue eyes are drawn to her long enough to give her an appraising study. He offers a respectful nod before it's time to study the two returning individuals, his attention passing to them.

The vicinity is abruptly and briefly very, very cold. The temperature returns to normal in just a few seconds.

When she finally emerges from backstage, the matching cloak for her dress is gone from her shoulders, and it seems that Cynara has used it to wrap the object she found somewhere in the darkness. However, upon stepping into the main audience hall, and her golden eyes scanning quickly for any investigative authorities that might be present, there's a sudden drop of temperature. Goosebumps rise on her pale skin above the gloves, and she winces a bit. But she'll press on, as the temperature rises back to normal and she has something to do.

Dyonith just walks along with the lady of the Fang. A dreer expression as he glances to her for a moment and the blood dripping from her. he shakes his head slowly as he lets her lead the way in talking. He seems faintly uneasy for the moment as he watches and waits for now.

Kyrie's smile only deepens to a sphingine curl, and should she but notice the change in the temperature, it scarcely warrants commentary. Something dark swings at her side beneath the steep fall of her cloak, a metronome to measure pace and cadence of speech by. Save that she does not actually speak, her thumb caressing a slow line across the silken brocade of her cloak's edge. Raziel's questions do not go answered.

Kali glances after Shayne. "She seems pleasant enough. Merchants always have that balance between power and humor, something that so many mages seem to lack."

Lucian whispers something to the Duke, moving aside the same instant as his words leave his lips, more words coming upon him but these are occult in nature. One hand passes into his coat, reaching for a long jagged dagger while the other is raised in the air towards the center of the cold-burst in the room. Seems he's being cautious or some such..

Duke Raziel's arms come up, almost instinctively against the chill, his eyes shifting between Kali and Kyrie, as if looking for something one or the other. At Kyrie's lack of response, he forces out a slow sigh, and looks to Dyonith. "Lord? Care you to answer my query?" A pause, and then a dry cough, almost a wry chuckle bursts from Raziel's lungs despite himself at whatever Lucian states. He gives a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Kali's eyes sparkle with inner humor as she looks about, and a few more words are gifted in a whisper. All this muttering!

Dyonith shakes his head slowly, "I was there for almost none of what went on. I sensed several things that appeared to be magical items, along with the lady fo the fang here." He offers and shakes his head, "I heard something about somebody in the area being the Duke of Green Fields, supposedly the guy with the items. As such as I came closer that man vanished, and I did not see said duke there, but the voice was familier. that is all I know." A hint of a worried and bothered frown there.

Lucian has stopped with one hand within his coat, holding the hilt of said dagger but not making any openly aggressive moves, or defensive ones for that matter. His eyes are narrowed and he looks everywhere but to the others of the small group, his other hand still held out in front of his stomach in a fist. Appearing more on guard than in sudden reaction.

Thanks to several conferences with Matthew Wyndham, Cynara knows enough of the barebones of Mistian law enough to know that crimes done against or by mages fell under the Duke of Mists' purview, and she certainly can't leave without handing over what she has to the proper authorities. At the crowd gathered around him, however, she patiently waits in the fringes, and occupying herself further by tilting her head to the rest of the audience that is still milling about. A glance is cast to the stage again, but the frown is still there, slight but still apparent.

Kyrie's silence does a pretty job of not interrupting anyone else who wishes to speak. Her attention is much more trained somewhere in Raziel's general direction or perhaps Lucian's or Kali's. Difficult to tell, in all truth.

"Peace, Lucian," Raziel states, gently, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder. "We're safe enough." This is said with calm certainty; perhaps the first measure of true calm Raziel's shown since the murder took place. "Trust me." Then, a cutting glance to Kali, which momentarily includes Dyonith, "We will speak later on this," he tells them both. Mismatched eyes move to Cynara. "Yes?" he asks the woman, quietly.

Kali proffers the merry thought, "The Empress was just telling me that the Duke of Green Fields killed /you/ earlier, Raziel. Though I must say that your recovery is quite remarkable. Nevertheless, isn't this all a bit coincidental?" And then she looks to Cynara with that bubbling interest and curiosity.

Dyonith just raises his eyebrows at all of this, but nods slowly to Raziel, "Understood your Grace." Yes he clearly knows almost nothing of what is going on, but his mind is clearly working.

Lucian nods slowly at Raziel's reassurance and he does seem to return to the serene state of relaxation that he held before. His hand inside his coat is returned to his side and he turns around to watch Kali again. A hint of a smile, or something akin to it on a man with no evident emotions, appears as his lips curve upwards but the Duke's acknowledgement of Cynara draws his eyes there once more. He steps closer to both the Duke and the foreign visitor, an expectant look given to Cynara.

When addressed, Cynara curtseys towards the Duke and his entourage, before unwrapping the object and handing it over to him. "Forgive my intrusion, Your Grace. I found this in a room at the back...outside of the manager's office. There are shards of iron present on the groove that could be compared to the bolt that ended the lady's life. She wasn't killed onstage, but in a small area that is outfitted with two chairs, flowers, and food. The setting looked intimate to me." What she reveals is a handcrossbow, small in size and meant for close-range attack than anything else. Iron flecks are evident in the weapon, and it is stamped with a seal that indicates that the weapon was manufactured in Green Fields. "No one was present in the room I found this in, but there were two people in the manager's office that saw the figure who had been sitting with the lady slip in there. I don't know how he managed to leave the room, there were no other exits."

Duke Raziel takes the crossbow, examining it slowly, and then he gives a faint nod to Cynara, listening to her words with keen attentiveness. "Your wisdom and resourcefulness is appreciated, Miss ...?" Brows lift, in curiousity awaiting the woman's name.

Dyonith eyes land on the crossbow as he considers and just nods to himself with a hint of a rueful smile, seems he has something in mind. Yet he keeps quiet for now as he considers. A glance to Kyrie then a glance back to the Duke, simply waiting for now.

"The bolt was cold iron, then," Lucian notes quietly. "But the Lady was most certainly human in every way and form." Apart from those notes, he simply seems to look at the others then nod at Cynara as if she acknowledged something.

Kyrie could very well be reading the patterns in the air for all that she is inclined to respond. And very well, she might be. The brief scythe of a smile isn't long lived in the present company, but remains there nonetheless.

Kali's artful, icy brows inch upward on her moon-pale brow as she considers at the crossbow. "Isn't that interesting? Cold iron." A smile graces her features as she looks at Cynara. "Very clever. We have not met, but I'm Kali Helkaer, Princess of Khelek, youngest daughter of the Snow Queen, conqueror beside King Saeros, patron of the city of Kalios within the realm of Maehdros." She introduces herself with a fierce note of pride and a lift of her chin, but smiles a moment later with warmth. "You must be someone who pursues criminals."

She retrieves her cloak - it was too cold to go outside without it, once the Duke has taken the crossbow for his own inspection. Drawn around her shoulders now, Cynara smiles faintly....but it doesn't reach her eyes, and it's somewhat tight around the edges. Someone had just been murdered after all, and by someone the unfortunate victim knew. "My name is Cynara Dhaval, Your Grace." Her eyes roam to his companions, and at what Lucian says, she nods. "It seems that way. A comparison with the projectile and the traces found in the crossbow should confirm whether this was the weapon used to actually kill her." When addressed by Kali, she blinks a little bit. "It's....more of a tangential occupation than anything else. My work tends to lend towards a few investigations. But I thank you for your regard, Princess."

Chewing on her bottom lip, the young woman suddenly appears exhausted. "I apologize for this having to be perfunctory considering the dire circumstances, but I'm afraid I must depart. Is there anything else I can assist with before I beg my leave?"

If anything, Lucian looks surprised at the greeting from Kali. "Interesting," he simply states to himself. "It was the weapon that was used to kill her in the room you described, at armslength. I can confirm it. She had accepted his invitation there from a note he sent her. But the cold iron bolt was also poisoned on top of the close range from where it was shot. Did you find anything to that effect?"

Duke Raziel says quietly, "Thank you, Mistress Dhaval. If we have further queries, we will contact you," he says, with a slow nod, grateful, clearly. He exhales, then, slowly, "Very well. We shall see where these clues lead, then."

Kali gives a delicate wrinkle of her nose. "Necromancy used to be illegal here. I have missed so much." She turns her gaze to Raziel with a peculiar, small smile. "I was just persuading Mena to order someone to tell me everything I have to catch up on."

"I'm afraid not," Cynara tells Lucian softly. "The only thing I found in the room the perpetrator was said to step inside of was the crossbow. However, there were fingerfoods and chocolate situated where she had been killed. If I were looking for poison, that's where I would search. I'm afraid I didn't have any opportunity to examine the site....just a quick feel on both chairs around the table to see whether two people had been sitting there and they were." When given leave by the Duke, she curtseys towards all of them, and then, she turns to make her way out of the audience hall.

Kyrie's flickering dark eyes travel away from the Duke and company to Cynara, lingering upon the Dhaval woman for a few moments. "Thank you," she offers, the whispery thinness of her soprano not unpleasant, simply pitched to softness rarely used.