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"Do you know how to play?" Lady looks at Thorne with renewed interest. She's already fond of him: long hours spent learning complicated hairstyles for Lady Melany's enjoyment will do that to a person. "Um... Do you know the right hand side of Sophie Bennett's By Night?"

An oldie, but a goodie.

While waiting for Thorne's response, Lady looks to Alois. "I think it doesn't usually go like this," she says. "I think usually the fetches don't attend. Lace mentioned it was weird--Lace is my double--and I didn't think anything of it because... it's weird."

She agrees with Alois, a small nod: "A patron who's fond of you will protect you," she says. "It's an honor to have your tithe selected, but if they're fond of you they'll want you around."

"Our patrons are the ones who took us," she says. "We're basically their property and their responsibility. I was traded from Lady Melany to Ezra as payment for services." She shuddered. "I'd rather be with Ezra any day."

She watches Alois tug at the door. The handles don't move; the heavy doors stay firmly shut. "Alois, you know Father wouldn't be pleased if you interrupted," she says.

He brought his hand to his mouth, pushing cold fingers against his lips so he could feel his teeth beneath them. Talk of willing sacrifices being less desirable gave him a brief surge of courage, but he doubted he could convincingly sell deliberately suicidal tendencies and he was sure they would be able to tell if he was faking. Still, considering it distracted him long enough to elevate him to Wibbling from Useless Mess.

"I was going to wear it," he said eventually, fingers still muffling his words until he wrapped his arm back around his knees. "But, yeah. It wasn't like we had a dress rehearsal or anything." Rabbit watched Alois angry dance with the door, his expression the one people wore just before rolling their eyes, but he never followed through. "Thank you anyway though. I'm fine." He raised his voice a little, waving at Juniper and repeating himself for her benefit. "I'm fine. Everything's cool and I'm looking forward to being flayed. Is that how they do it? I don't know."

Alois struggled with the door while Thorne and Lady spoke of piano and he hated himself with the skill he learned in using that instrument. He hated himself because he wanted to join them. He wanted to know Thorne’s place, to know what it meant to sit with someone else and bond over an experience like a shared knowledge of one of the most complicated and technical instruments man invented. He wanted to know how it felt when Thorne touched her hair, when they cowered collectively over Melany’s gaze, when they exchanged fruitless consolations that somehow, someway, they might turn out alright.

So he struggled with greater intensity. Sweaty palms slipped from the handle at times as he jerked, wrenched, pulled harder at the locked portal. He fought intensely enough that he heard his shoulder pop deep and wicked from his antics, and felt the resounding pain from too much exertion. He didn’t care. Fruitlessly he punched one of the panels, twice, thrice, before he seized the handles themselves for support. He leaned on them, drawing many a shaken breath, and tried to focus on their pristine golds and delicate inlaid sapphires beyond the helplessness of the situation.

What would it matter, he thought in response to Temperance. What would it matter for what I’d say if I can’t even reach them?

But Lady Red’s words only spurred him. If Father fostered deep disappointment in him for bursting in, for interrupting the council, then did he not have every reason to do it? If Father stopped protecting him from the sacrifice due to that disappointment, would he not further his own goals? If the patrons found themselves disturbed by the outburst, would they not focus their votes on him?

He could spin a yarn worth buying. He knew this. If he acted out in such a manner and convinced them that he wanted most not to go to the sacrifice, then would they not find every reason to send him?

Knuckles grew bone-white on the handles. „That’s the point,“ he whispered to himself.

Another breath. A second breath. He rested forehead against the cold, unyielding, uncaring wood.

„Ze trials,“ he started, then cleared his throat. „Father - Ezra - mentioned zem. He did not gif’ details. He only said zat zey occur after ze ‚tithe‘ and if we survif’e ze ‚tithe‘ then we will presumably endure zem. He said zat if we survif’e and yet fail zese trials, we become like zose gross corpses zat imitated us so perfectly. And if we pass, it ‚depends on what we wish to become‘. It’s all I know.“

He followed without objection, tucking his arms into his sleeves and sitting primly as directed. He wasn't even trying to make Alois look bad by comparison this time, it just sort of happened. Most of his excuse for silently complying was that he didn't want to draw further attention from Thorne, the man's words tainted by whatever his double had done to Rabbit in the spire. He knew it wasn't Thorne's fault, but that didn't make him want to fold his limbs in closer to his spine and disappear any less. It wouldn't be all right. Not if one of Melany's was saying so.

"Good. Thank you," he muttered.

It was impossible not to notice Alois trying his damn hardest to pry open the doors that kept them all locked within the cool toned room. Obviously, all his attempt were futile though as the doors didn't budge an inch. In a way, it was depressing to watch. Seeing someone so wrecked with emotions that they couldn't accept what they didn't want. Frustration and despair could do that to people, Juniper supposed. Then again, whom was she to assume that this was why the man was acting the way he was?

When he finally calmed down, and leaned against the doors his body language screamed dejection to Juniper. She frowned and moved to walk over to him when he began to answer the question she had posed a bit earlier in the conversation.

She stood there and blinked as she digested his words. "So, once the sacrifice is decided there's more hoops to jump through?" She scoffed. "This whole thing is ridiculous! It sounds to me like they want a show. Why else would these trials exist after the tithe is chosen?" This was a problem. Depending on these trials, Juniper began to realize that she may be in over her head here. Sure, unlike the others, she never truly believed she would be chosen as a sacrifice. After all, why would they want her? But, to think that she'd be thrust into some sort of trial and have to fight for...well, her humanity? That was complete bullshit. And scary.

With nothing else to do to keep herself calm, Juniper walked over to Alois. Hesitantly she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder gently. She didn't want to scare him since he wasn't facing her, but she did feel the need to try and console him. Whether or not he wanted it was to be seen. "Come on. Come sit down like Temperance said. It's not doing any good trying to open the doors right now." She tilted her head to try and look around to his face. "I mean, unless standing here like this makes you feel better and all."

Rabbit was not alright, clearly, but there was nothing to be done for it. Temperance was not the best at comfort and she hand't even started her psych clinicals yet! She rubbed her hand on Rabbit's shoulder. "Don't.. don't paint yourself in a future that hasn't happened just yet." Then she stood, and shuffled over into the chair next to Alois. Even without his paint he looked more skeleton than man. She hesitated, unsure what to say, although she was glad he had sat down.

"So... um... can we kill the spider yet?"

"The human one has to do it? Why?! What possible extra 'magic' could come from the blood being spilled by human hands? It's like... it's like they are trying to create two tithes." One who died physically and one who died a little having to perform that task. Temperance shifted uncomfortably in her seat and stood. It was one thing to sit and wait for a potential death when it was only the one person involved. It was another thing entirely knowing that someone they knew would be forced to kill. She could sit around and wait for her own death, but she could not condone this.

Temperance didn't understand the whys and hows of the council, of this court. Did it really matter? She briskly walked from window to window, trying to open each one. What getting outside this room would actually do - she had no idea. But she felt like she understood a little bit of how Alois had felt, maybe. Sighing, she turned around to face the room, cool glass against her back.

She pressed her hands to the glass panes, trying to gauge their thickness. "If we stay here, someone dies and one of our friends gets to kill them. So... anyone up for breaking out?" Temperance was pretty sure her slight frame, although tall, didn't possess enough strength (even equipped with a chair) to shatter the glass. Maybe one of the buff-a-rinos could, though.

"If we all left and hide until the moon sinks - wouldn't it ******** up their tithe?" And she really, really wanted to ******** up their tithing ritual. "I vote we chair the window and leave."

Oh, so now it’s okay to want to leave this ******** room. They were all completely fine with letting us march our way to death with the sacrifice and the tithe, but the moment one of their own has to kill someone else, it’s time to take action. How dare they let someone get their hands bloody. Human life is sacred if someone they know has to take it. Otherwise? More piss in the bucket.

But what do I know? I’m not dearly beloved and famous author Algernon Mercer. I’m just Alois, the dumbass who got his hand broken while everyone looked on and sipped their wine.

I can’t wait for everyone to ******** off already.

Alois made no comment - not even to assert that he knew far more about breaking and entering than the nurse insisting they do so. Perhaps the thought of glass and its pointededly repetitive structure came to mind, and comments of greater ease and stealth in simply wrapping one’s hand and using a stiletto heel to capitalize on the glass’s brittleness. If they did, he gave no outward indication of it. His head remained low, bangs reaching toward the ground, and he simply waited.

If Father sends me back to Ashdown…