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A cane tapped gently on the back of the dress wearer. "Hello. I'm very curious about the dress."

"Just lights, nothing special." She sighed and readjusted her grip on her cane. "Mind if we find somewhere to sit down?"

After a second of introspective silence, the Raven gestured towards the food table, which was overflowing with many delicious-looking treats. "Well, I'm going to get a drink. If you want to join me-?"

"Pretty much just dress clothes I already owned. The watch and mask are models of props from a TV show, but I'm not giving it away!" He crossed his arms. "You have to guess on your own."

"I was complaining about the arrangement, which is which instruments are playing each part, but there aren't good words for how they're playing it."

"But enough shop talk," the Musician continued. "What of you? Your choice of costume is interesting."

"I like your outfit in turn. Quite red, and I like red." She arched an eyebrow. "By the way, my lady, you might work on Fellowship. I know I'm the talk-y person and all, but really - you're in no danger here!"

She stepped away to speak with further guests, leaving the Crimson Woman behind without a chance to answer.

They fidgeted a bit more and then said, "Um... I can definitely see why you thought I was Iximaz. From what I know of them, I gather that they're not the best conversationalist either. You're not bothering me, just so you know, I just never really know what to say, that's all." Sapphire glanced around; "Do you think there's a refreshment table anywhere?"

it was slow, subtle, majestic. In a moment, the clumsy, pottering bowling ball had disappeared, and what remained was mysterious, tempting, esoteric. 'Call me-' And then all the lights went off, and he released a panicked grunt and stumbled somewhere and bumped someone who, also, released a panicked grunt, stumbled somewhere, hit someone else, causing them to release a panicked grunt, until the darkened room was echoing in a chain of panicked grunts and stumbles. He watched Cal's entire presentation, glanced at her red lipstick and thought 'how typical of Calliope!'

And when the lights came back on all the dignified grace he had somehow built up had long dissolved, and he looked up at the stranger and said: 'Uhr, I'm Mister Turkey. But not, bloody, the warbling chicken-thing Americans celebrate sometimes, it's when you get three strikes in a row. In bowling. So it's victory. I've essentially called myself "victory."' He wondered, for a moment, why he didn't just call himself 'victory,' as opposed to a warbling chicken-thing Americans celebrated sometimes. He looked back at the stranger. He grinned, took their hand, shook firmly. 'So what am I meant to call you?'

"But you say some of the instruments are off? Is there, like, a name for that in music, when the emotion is wrong?"

"Happy birthday!" she said, smiling. "I'd sing, but, er, not my forte. Ha, forte. Music joke." She coughed. "Ehrm. Anyway, I like your party. It's very, er, red and black and white, in a good way." She blinked behind her mask. Then, in a much smaller voice, she said, "I like your outfit."

"Now we're in trouble," the Musician said, laughing. "You've only just met me and you're asking me to judge musical ability?"

She listened for a moment, and then nodded.

"In my opinion, they are a skilled group, and experienced with playing together," she said. "Their director sounds inexperienced, they aren't controlling the emotions of the piece well. And I have... issues with whoever arranged it. That part belongs to the horn, not the cellos."

"How did you...? Nevermind. That's probably a good idea. I'll head by in a bit. Catch you later?" The wolf made a slight bow, then turned away, ready to mingle elsewhere.

The Crimson Woman had somehow gotten behind the White Wolf and was peering around her newfound cover, hands knotted into her dress. "Well, I should probably find the birthday girl and wish her a happy birthday," she said. She straightened, smoothing out her skirt.

"Nice to meet you, Musician. Um, just call me Rod, I guess. I . . . had a feeling you were into music, from your jewelry. I heard an orchestra playing as I approached the house. Tell me, in your opinion: are they good?"

"Good evening to you too," the Clockwork stranger replied. "My mask was designed two days ago, and I spent all of yesterday constructing it."

After a moment, he leaned closer and added, "The secret is 3D printing and really good bronze spray paint."

"So," the Musician continued, "perhaps you are precisely on time for its beginning?"

The Musician smiled, amused, and offered her companion her hand.

"For tonight," she said, "I am known as the Musician- although I will also answer to Melody, if you desire a more conventional name."

"I thought for sure you were Iximaz, but they're definitely a fan of Pokémon... ah, well."

He finally noticed the person's obvious discomfort.

"I should probably see what the other guests are up to," the Concerned One said, glancing around at the people who had arrived while they were talking. "I hope you enjoy the party."

He is dressed simply: black slacks and socks, black shoes with no laces, a white dress shirt with tiny black pinstripes. (He doesn't do red.) A pocket watch hung from a fob in his shirt pocket, but the glass was cracked, and the watch stopped at an odd hour. brown hair which . . . really should have been cut before the party was the only part of his head visible, as his face was entirely obscured by an ugly miser's mask.

Exactly like this.

Seeing the Musician nearby, he stared for a moment, gulped, and approached her. "Hello, there," he said lightly, hoping he didn't come off as creepy. "I'm a bit late. How has the party been?"

"I hadn't thought of that. I suppose it could be, if one were a Pokémon fan, but I am not."

"They're pretty similar," he said. "Though Sapphire does make for a better name. Plus, it's a Pokémon reference, right?"

"S- Sapphire. Just Sapphire," Sapphire said. "I mean, I was going to call myself Cobalt," they continued, gaining confidence slightly now that there was something to actually talk about, "but I like the color of sapphires better, though I do admit that Cobalt would have fit my color scheme more." Sapphire looked up at The Concerned One, "Would you agree, sir?"

A breeze passed near the Herald's face as the rustling sound started. When the lights came back on, the Garnet Ghast was standing a fair distance away, and one of their sleeves was moving ever-so-slightly. They exhaled a little, and wafted towards the Herald. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Call me the Concerned One," the masked man said, before mentally smacking himself. He really should have come up with a better name; what on Earth made him think he could roleplay like this?

"What should I call you?" the Concerned One asked, deciding to shift the focus away from himself.

The Musician had gotten to the party on time, indeed, with time to spare. Her carefully-laid plan to be the perfect socialite had lasted for the time it took her to make two key realizations: One, that she'd completely misunderstood the concept of "fashionable lateness", and two, she knew the chamber orchestra's cellist. The two had talked, griped about composers and divas, and the Musician had completely missed the start of the party proper.

Now, as she stood and took in the crowd, she wondered if she hadn't underdressed.

The Musician wore a simple gown, white silk dropping from a high Empire waist almost to the floor. Her jewelry was similarly simple, a silver treble clef resting in the hollow of her throat and, for those with quick eyes, a matching silver bass clef on a chain around her ankle. She was accompanied by her own music; an array of silver bells and steel chimes hung from her braided and coiled hair and sang in key with the orchestra. Eyes the color of violin strings sparked behind a simple dove-gray domino mask; while most of her face was clearly visible some art or artifice obscured her identity and left her familiar but anonymous.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Haven't had an excuse to break out my cane in months. Shame too." He twirled it easily, taking care to make sure it wouldn't hit anyone.