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Tigwyn Ioyana

Tigwyn sat leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed. He was less than happy than the others at the party, but his attitude seemed to have hardened – he was hardly shaken up. He exhaled a spiraling plume of smoke and flipped his cigarette between his fingers. “Hold up,” He interjected gruffly.

The orangeblood scrutinized the greenblood with eyebrows raised. “Oi, Mr. Green. Who the hell told you that Deburu ‘n Rutven were fighting, eh? That’s a bald-faced lie. I was there. Deburu was too busy havin’ a physical argument wif the Trophy Block t’ do any arguin’ with no fancy mimsy. Afterwards, I tol’ him to cool down in the Trainin’ Block, yea? He was sweatin’ bad, make-up runnin’ everywhere. Told him to towel off ‘n take a shower. Didn’t hear a gun-shot neither, less that stolen gun was some fancy military tech.”

He shrugged and scoffed. “Rainbowdrinker… Feh. What a load.”

Tigwyn seemed, however, to be quite interested in the accusation of Awassi. He leaned back again and waited for what they had to say.

Erilyn Awassi
The greenblood didn't seem unduely upset at the accusation, simply twitching their shawl slightly closer around them and giving a slow, drawn out shake of the head. The gentle smile that they returned to Kursha was full of pity, and a small amount of unconcealed contempt. "While I do understand that you are not used to the proper comforts of high society, I am quite amazed that you didn't taste how fresh your entree was. To have a meat dish that tender requires only the freshest of products, which also occasionally, darling, requires me to keep living creatures confined near my dining block for short periods of time. Honestly, who doesn't have a cage in their hive? It's such a versatile tool." Pausing to give their nails an inspection, they glanced back up at the room and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Sorry? Of course - the other questions. For starters, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. The what incentive? Something about a bird? It rings no bells with me, dear."

Sitting up a little straighter, they looked around at the other adults at the table, coolly taking in the suspicion behind the eyes. "As for my private relationship with Kewrei, he was one of my patrons. I couldn't stand the man, of course, but that didn't mater. It wasn't about us, it was about the music. He enjoyed my singing, so he assisted in promotional costs for my tours. I kept track of the finances due by writing them down, because darling, this might come as a surprise, I am not perfect."

Alifax cleared his throat. "If I may - regardless of whether Comedi specifically shot Rutven, I think it can be argued that someone shot Rutven." He held up his spent casing.

"This was found in the training block in the fourth hour. As you can see there's gunpowder on it, and it's small enough that it's certainly from a bullet rather than an explosive, as you claim. If it's examined in close quarters, trace amounts of teal blood are visible. Perfectly silent guns are, while expensive, not unimaginable, especially with guests who possess this caliber of material wealth." Alifax waved a hand as if to indicate, well, the noticeable grandeur of the hive around them. "Furthermore - " Alifax paused, rummaging in his bag to produce a pair of familiar broken glasses with a purple tint, as well as a small plastic bag containing what would appear to be the remnants of a shattered record. "These two objects were found in the same block at the same time. Even if you don't believe that Rutven lied about his blood color, these glasses, which clearly once belonged to him, have trace amounts of both the gunpowder and the teal blood on them. If it was not Rutven who was shot, it must have been a tealblood wearing his glasses." He gave a glance toward the only tealblood in the room, who seemed perfectly healthy.

Then he turned to the record. "As you can see, this record seems to have been destroyed quite methodically. Rutven is not likely to have destroyed it, having been a large fan of Awassi's work. I'd posit that it was most likely destroyed by someone who wanted to hide someone's past connection to Awassi, because it was at least verifiably a recording of Awassi's work." He shrugged. "Of course, I don't know much about the gathered guests, but it seems likely that this is linked to the shot, and that this was personally motivated." How many guests could that apply to? Probably only either Gerard or Comedi. On the off chance it'd been Gerard who'd destroyed it, Comedi could've shot him out of anger on his moirail's behalf. If it'd been Comedi, the record could've contained details about Rutven's prior relationship to them, and Comedi could've destroyed it - and shot Rutven - out of jealousy.

Alifax had still been gathering his thoughts about Awassi - he had most of the Rutven things prepared because he'd only just compared them with Leeroi's evidence on the matter. But when Schrad spoke his head swiveled over to listen.

"I don't know about much that happened in the library," Alifax shrugged. "But I can produce these, which I think refute at least a few of Awassi's claims, although I fail to see how exactly they're relevant to the murder of Kewrei."

Alifax pulled out the recording, the yellow envelope, and the purple envelope. "This recording was found in a hidden compartment behind Awassi's personal crest. Obviously there's no device on which we can play it now, but if you'll believe my word it's a personal copy of what seems to be Awassi's first studio recording. A single track plays, followed by some discussion of the piece that's just been recorded." The song seemed to at least repeat the title of their first release (or at least the title according to the books about Awassi he'd read through), which might at least be indicative that it was the same song. He hoped. "Considering it was hidden and that it contains information left off the final track as released to the public, I'd posit that this is a private copy." He drummed his fingers, and then flipped the recording over. "Here's a handwritten label. Note the handwriting, which is presumably written by Awassi, considering it's a private copy of the recording." It was in a loose, flowing hand.

He found an empty table and opened the yellow and purple envelopes, spilling their contents out over the table. "This first folder is a ledger of beetles being sent from Awassi to something called the Firebird Project. Of course, this name doesn't match Phoenix Initiative exactly, but I'd argue that both words are certainly synonyms of both words in the organization's title. Either way this is a large amount of money being funneled into something, and I'd guess that it is the initiative in question." He selected a page almost at random to show to the room - it was filled with the same loose, flowing hand. "It's written in the same handwriting as the record label. I'd argue that this is indicative that Awassi knew at least a little about the Phoenix Initiative."

Next he moved onto the purple envelope, and after looking at it for a bit he hastily pulled out a red envelope too. "Here are some copies of forms Kewrei filled out in his application to lead a team of orphaners. Considering they bear his signature, and also seem to match the tag on the highblood artwork that was a gift from Kewrei to Awassi that Moachm found, I'd wager that the handwriting is his." He laid copies of the forms, which came from the red envelope, across the table. He moved on to the real target of discussion then. "Now, onto the purple folder - this contains a long chain of letters exchanged between two parties who are involved in a black romance with each other." He held up two different letters. "One of them has penmanship that's a match to Awassi's. The other has penmanship that neatly resembles Kewrei's." Both of these statements were true - Awassi's writing was, again, loose and flowing, and Kewrei's was scribbled nearly to the point of illegibility, and looked like a duplicate of the handwriting on the forms. Of course, the letters were, in Alifax's opinion, a little pornographic for some of the wiggler-age crowd, but what could you do?

"This is interesting precisely because Awassi just claimed that their relationship with Kewrei was purely a business relationship. The...ardor contained within these letters speaks otherwise." Actually, some of the letters bordered on overboard, but it was still a black romance. And the thing about romance of any kind was that no one wanted a quadrantmate dead, so whatever Awassi's connections to the Phoenix Initiative...it didn't really seem to spell guilt in the murder of Kewrei at all.

He gave a shrug. "Anyway, if you think for some reason that this writing - " he tapped the loose, flowing writing " - was written by anyone other than Awassi, that'd be interesting to know. As it is, Furore has an autograph from Puchen that differs wildly, Sarcel has a small black book with handwriting that's almost certainly Comedi's, and I also have this note." He'd let those two come forward with the evidence if they were willing or paying attention, but in the meantime he pulled out the saccharine note, which was some hand-transcribed sheet music with a perfumed and overly passionate love letter on the back, in a loopy scrawl. "Given the contents of this letter, I'd be willing to assume that this was penned by Rutven." He shrugged. Was he missing anyone? Well, Schrad, and - oh! He had a sample of Ioyana's handwriting, actually. But Kursha's could be attributed to him more definitively. "Kursha has Ioyana's RSVP to the party, which I'd assume was penned by him - the handwriting looks quite different from this, as well." Of course, this wasn't to mention the handwriting on the postcards - but Alifax was willing to bet that had been penned by someone who wasn't even in attendance.

"If this changes someone's perception of their own findings, please let us know. I'm feeling a bit stumped as to what exactly happened during dinner, and I don't think arguing about Awassi or Rutven has been very productive so far."

Leeroi found his opportunity among the chaos, turning his back to Kursha and walking off. There was no way he was going to form a truce with that jerk for the sake of a game. A game he didn't even particularly care about winning at this point, too. He cursed under his breath, returning to his notes. He'd one-up the greenblood someday, and he gritted his teeth knowing that day was not today.

He watched the others cast their accusations. Did these guys know something he didn't? There wasn't nearly enough evidence to accuse anyone of murder... There was hardly enough evidence to provide the murder weapon or a motive. Nothing against Epratt added up, yet everyone seemed ready to lash out at Erilyn, the troll who had the most incriminating evidence stacked against them.

"HOLD UP!" Leeroi yelled, slamming his fists on the table. "None of this adds up!" He complained, leafing through his evidence. "You're all accusing Erilyn because they have the most to hide, right? That doesn't make any sense!" Leeroi straightened, putting down the letter he discovered in their host's military uniform.



He didn't understand the meaning of the letter before, but it was clear to him now. Firebird project, Phoenix Initiative, "Rise from the ashes?". The answer seemed obvious, but it only made things more confusing for Leeroi. "If we're all in agreement that this is Erilyn's penmanship, then I've collected some very incriminating evidence. Implications of assistance in a bombing, and hints of a relationship with someone connected to the so-called Phoenix Initiative. But why?" Leeroi looked around the room for input.

"Why would someone with so much to hide... cull someone and create a scene in their own hive? And do so without doing a better job hiding their dirty laundry? Between their connections with the rebellion, and their harboring of mutantbloods, they're dead to the military anyways if we found out. So why would they let us find out?" Leeroi paused before bringing out another piece of evidence. "Take a look at this," he said, putting both items on the table.




"I think we're all in agreement that Awassi has some connection with these mutantbloods. I assumed the writing was theirs before we confirmed it, because I couldn't imagine anyone else working with the kids. But now I'm sure of it." He shot a look at Erilyn, folding his hands behind his back. Then he looked around the room carefully. "I found this note in the mutant's cage. It's directions. Erilyn directed the mutantbloods to plant this evidence in the nutrition block."

Leeroi picked up the bottle, showing it to the room. "It's a bottle of poison, and it's empty," He explained, turning the bottle in his hand. "The note explained to plant the bottle in the cupboard after the mutant had "finished" something." Leeroi waved his free hand, trying to think. "Now, I suppose that thing could be poisoning Epratt's food, which would solve a lot of our problems. Believe me, it's a definitely a possibility. But think about what I said earlier. I want to believe Erilyn is smarter than that."

Pacing over to his evidence on Gerard, he picked up the purse of blood vials and presented it to the room. "Since you're all so curious about the idea of Gerard being a rainbowdrinker, here's our evidence. Its a purple-trimmed purse filled with various blood vials, and the origin of the powder in the faygo that made Comedi so ill." He held up the white powder vial for everyone to see. "We also have heard from the other guests that Gerard regularly wears a lot of makeup, has friends that keep disappearing, and has a creepy, dark hive." Leeroi smiled, seeing if anyone else had pieced it together. "Why would a troll that glows need a well-lit hive?"

"Now if he is a rainbowdrinker, and not some crazed fanboy, the possibility of him being alive is still very real. If I remember correctly, after Gerard disappeared, Comedi was guarding the medical chest in the training block very carefully, like he was hiding something." Leeroi glared up at Tamiya, daring the purpleblood to refute him, as he expected her to do. He smiled cheekily, and then turned back to the room. "Or someone," He added, resting his argument.

Eostre had watched the bickering go on for quite a while, but something peculiar caught her eye. For just a moment, she spied Puchen's gloves between her trying to hide them in the crooks of her elbows and into her jacket. A thought from what Tamiya was muttering earlier clicked in her mind. That didn't seem right...

"I'm sure this little tidbit is of no particular importance," she spoke up from her spot by her clue table. "But Major Puchen, weren't you wearing a lovely pair of fingerless white gloves earlier this evening?" With a smile, she fiddled with her own gloved fingers. Who would have thought her little eye for gloves would come up later on. "I do believe those are quite like the gloves Gerard was wearing tonight... where ever did you get them?"

Hivestuck

Accusing!
Puchen of stealing Gerard's gloves smile

Eostre smiled, a bit forced at the use of 'bun'. What an interesting piece about Gerard. Too bad he wasn't here to corroborate anything, a shame really. However... "Yes, that does. Thank you, Major. If you'd like, we could trade gloves as well! Then you'd have white ones again. The black really doesn't suit you." Especially with how pale she looked. She picked up the threatening postcard from the table and started to lazily fan herself with it. Tamiya really did manage to find some interesting things, and perhaps Puchen recognized it...

[+] Kursha Vidari

It looked like everyone else had finally opened up. About damn time. It had meant throwing out every half-formed theory he had to get the conversation flowing, and maybe that made him look like an idiot in retrospect, but at least he was doing something. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He took the responses with surprisingly good temper. Maybe in a different time, or a different place, he would have taken the criticisms as an assault to his pride, but he had since had a lesson in humility. Besides, as long as he had a job to do, he could not afford to lose his temper. Awassi's use of familiar language did set off nerve though. He managed to keep a straight face.

With the debate in full swing, Kursha slid into the background, processing all the new information flying around. He cast a disarming smile at Leeroi. Little s**t. Hiding something like that. Regardless of whether or not he thought it had been planted, it was important.

When Eostre spoke up, calling attention to Puchen's gloves, Kursha directed his attention over to the blueblooded major. He narrowed his eyes, expression pensive. Eostre was right. The first time he had seen her in the armoury she had been wearing white, but then later when he found her eating cake in the nutrition block, she had switched to black...

“I suppose that mess on the floor of the armoury was from you then?” he asked, non-accusing. He shrugged. “They're pretty nice gloves though. Seems a waste to dirty them eating cake. What's that all about? You got cold prongs or...” He winked.