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IC [Nobilis] Mean Everything to Nothing


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"Then we have a table set," Evelyn says, "I shall need time to arrange the Manor properly, and to arrange for gifts... but I suppose I should distribute invitations."

Evelyn focuses, her body momentarily shifting into glass.

When Abby looks into Benjy's eyes, so happy he is back, and when Benjy looks into her tearful ones, they see reflected a simple message, a date and time, a location: any mirror, and a direction: Wear a costume.

In the burning halls of the Sun, Rhys Bellamont peers into his latest shinning liquor, and where his face should be sees a masked face staring back at him. "Good for one and a guest," it tells him.
Not far away, Mithras sees plasma shine on the burnished gold gates he guards, recoalesce into written words.

Far a Nimblejack with a crude drawn cat branded on his forehead, gazes into the sharp, shinning instruments that the ogres have been using to peel back his skin, one layer at a time, and sees the cat reflected back, pointing inwards.

The brightness of Meon's own smile whispers to him that there will be a shindig that simply must be ruined, lest it become something holy and grand.

The echo of Joktan's laugh sends a certain Morse Code message back to him.

Baalhermon's polished armor shows a mannequin gesturing to Lord Entropy to join her.

Every drop of water throughout Atlantis reflects clear and precise instructions of where to go, when, and to bring a costume.

The water beneath Davy Jones's vessel reflects another ship, equal and opposite, from which another Davy Jones tosses a message in a bottle through to the other side.

Mortals, too, are drawn in, be they gazing in mirrors, looking into a lover's eyes, or simply passing a shiny new car. Most will forget or dismiss it, but perhaps a few will join.

All over the world, the message arrives in reflections.

There is going to be a party.
Please come.
Wear a costume.
There will be gifts.

"There," Evelyn says, "It is all settled. Though, I would like to invite your Familia more personally."

Spoiler: Show
Weaving Destiny for 1 TMP (though... flashback nature, do I spend it, or count it as spent last chapter?) to draw everyone to the party... so many people.


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"So, Davy Jones' crew. Did you tell them to fork off? Or should I be expecting them spooner or later. You don't have to decide now; a good napkin really help make up your mind." The Power was sitting in his own seat at the table, looking over a set of blank dinnerware which had yet to be engraved in any manner. He simply didn't know what Estates to expect from the old seadog.


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"The invitation was for all who would receive it," she tells him. She looks over the table herself, and fails to find a spot for herself. The Estate of Imitation, if it can be called that, has no flower symbol and no place with the Society of Flowers. Barakiel had wanted to change that, as had Jezzebeth (blood leaks from Evelyn's head just thinking the name).

Evelyn wonders if the whole point of the party might be to earn a space.
But, what could she take as her sigil?


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Tifo checked his phone. An alarm he'd set was going off 'now' or whenever it really was or was supposed to be - it was the sort of clarification not worth the nosebleeds its pursuit induced. "I have to go now Evelyn. It'd be ever so rude to give a friend less than my full attention. And I'll leave my stuff here for now if you don't mind. The couch is from the Titanic so I can get another one but please keep the Table away from open flames and acetone-based wood varnishes."
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