---

Theodred had been quick to speak, to rush when there was truly no need to be in that much of a hurry. While he knew the man to loathe the idea of it, everything done was necessary. Besides the gates had been passed without incident and those within would likely pay them little mind even when steps began to stray. Nothing more than a pair who sought distraction, a moment of privacy, a chance to breath away from the suffocating bodies of a crowd.

All that needed determined was where such an escape could be made. Chance to slip away just out of sight.

While a hold was not relinquished - assurance that the general would not attempt to slip away - nothing more falls from his lips as focus drew outward. Taking in the reverberation of sound against each surface, reflecting from each body that shifted around them before reaching the walls themselves. A vision crafted within the darkness as everything worked in tandem to grant the man ‘sight’.

Though what held attention was the steady motion of armor, the familiar clink of weaponry as it shifted at their hip. Guardians placed alongside a number of doorways to dissuade those ever curious guests. While others served as blockades to the gentle curve of spiraled step, issuing murmurs of denial to the few who dared approach. No entry to this wing of the mansion or this particular hall, there were others left open that could be wandered freely.

Slow breath slipped free before a figure would step before the much taller man. Fingers rising to gently trace nails against the man’s jaw in what others would see as nothing more than affection, though to he it served as nothing more than guidance. Delicately turning that once silvered gaze toward a stairwell without forcing him to look toward it completely. That is the most direct approach, we would only need to slip past the guard.

It should be easy enough to convince such a creature to let them through. A simple twist of magic, hope that one did not hold resistance to the weavings of a tongue. If that one cannot be convinced there is another path up a ways down that hall, the soft tilt of his crown offering direction even as eyes hung upon the disguised general. Though if it held resistance further down remained to be seen. Considering the one ahead held guard, surely any other way to that portion of the home did as well.

---

Patience is a virtue. He reminded himself as he waited for the man at his side to complete whatever surveillance he was capable of. He knew his eyes were incapable of sight defined the way he would, but he was privy to the knowledge that another method was used. It was the reason - or so he assumed - that the clamor of jewelry accompanied his appearance. A way of lighting his path like one would use a torch. Free hand rose, a slight, thoughtful cradle given to his chin as his gaze canvased their surroundings.

Wine poured in torrents from a large fountain, but the relaxing sound was overwhelmed by the strum of a chorus and the ruckus of musicians. While he often times liked music as well, he found the more somber tunes to be more soothing than what played here. However, he supposed this wasn't meant to be soothing. It was meant to fill the dance floor with pirouetting patrons, just as it currently did. A pair of matching large stair cases would lead into the upper balcony watching over those below. He also imagined this to be the path they would eventually tread to reach the destination he had previously pointed out. While he agreed this was a good time to slip unnoticed into the city walls, he still couldn't see the point in finding their way here. As Mithras had pointed out, yes, security would be lax in leu of the wedding, why didn't they simply scout the areas they had interest in to begin with rather than the masqueradehere?

His train of thought was disrupted, however, as a soft touch trailed along his jaw. The cold beryl of false emerald would tighten slightly, an unspoken heed of faint warning. That is the most direct approach, we would only need to slip past the guard. His attention would drift from faux features to and in the direction the other had gestured. How many are there? Came the equally silent inquiry. If it was but a single soul posted, he supposed that they could be easily dealt with if worst came to it. If the subtlety of charm failed, a hasty dispatch could also be arranged. After all, only a pistol had been seized from his person. Nothing else.

If that one cannot be convinced there is another path up a ways down that hall, again, he would follow the faint sign given, though his vision of both routes were obscured by what surrounded them, unable to peer seamlessly through all like it was transparent. He did get the gist, regardless. Very well, we'll try the most direct way first. If there's only one guard and they can't be... convinced to let us pass, I can deal with them. Quietly. So long as it was simply one. If any vast number accrued, then there would be the problem of his limited magic use before his limbs would give him away. An annoyance, yes, but one he hoped wouldn't come to pass.

---

Unmistakable tension flashed over another’s features. Nothing but a subtle fluctuation upon the auras which crafted that hidden visage, a shift as muscles tightened. Enough to keep venomous emotions under wraps yet still allow the draconian to notice, to take in the silent warnings issued upon a mere glance. However, a simple glare would not bring action to cease. It was the easiest way to direct focus without stirring suspicions as well as grant the sightless a bit of insight to the very man stood with. Delve into but a portion of that subconscious through natural reaction.

He would not be pulling back. Touch would linger, feel the way a crown turned to take in each signal given before silent tones filled the mind just as his own had done mere moments ago. Askance over assigned guardians. Something that could change but for now he could only offer what was known. One for now but there is a patrol upstairs, little deviation to their movements. So long as we time a path correctly we can slip by without any issues. The only unknown rested on one who remained stationary, who blocked a path with the simplicities of uttered phrase or subtle motion of carried weaponry should any draw near.

No matter. There were always ways to bend the mind and grant temporary allowance, permissions one would forget ever giving. If he held a partner in this blockade hopefully they would not make an untimely return. Perhaps they’d been stolen away to deal with other matters - escort someone from the premises - though as it was now, a sentinel stood alone. The echoed steps of those around them would provide a sense of cover, bodies to blot out a hopeful ascent to the floors above. Distractions. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Despite the ways he thought to linger, divulge a bit more information to the general, Mithras decides luck has been pressed enough. Any added touch drawing away, leaving only the gentle press of fingers as they gripped lightly to previously offered limb. That hook one he refused to relinquish just yet as a soft tug hoped to direct steps toward the stairwell. Slithering effortlessly through the ever growing crowd yet a silent allowance was granted, unspoken permissions for Theodred to steer a course should blinded sights fail him and instead risk misstep.

And as paces stalled before the guard it was unsurprising to feel the air shift. His own practiced lyrics filling the senses before either could speak, “I’m afraid the west wing is off limits to guests. If you seek reprieve from the crowd then might I suggest the gardens? They’re shaded and rather peaceful.” Something Mithras didn’t doubt but to an offer that decorated crown would shake, sights fixing upon the man’s own though despite how one stared back he felt no tug upon that conscious. No snare upon the mind that the draconian was so used to finding when it came to convincing those of mortal affliction.

Lyrics near snarled their annoyance into his companion’s mind, This one must be on herbs or some type of medication. I cannot get a hook into him. Something that had hardly been an issue whenever magic was involved though it was apparently a presence felt for it earned a coax of weaponry. A tilt of that spear handle to further block access to the stairs. Action which sparked a tongue to weave its careful lies, attempt to do away with the man's concerns upon softened phrase, “Apologies ser. Lovely as they were we found rather unfavorable company in the gardens. Is there no where else?” Bid at distraction, allowing another his chance for a clear opening as those eyes held upon the concerned visage of a woman.

---

One for now but there is a patrol upstairs, little deviation to their movements. So long as we time a path correctly we can slip by without any issues. False emeralds would watch the faux sight of the other, his expression remaining taut, yet to the untrained eye, he would allow the duke his little imagery. After all, it would not pay to draw attention to them here and now. A thing he highly suspected the tycoon would wish to avoid as well - so for one reason or another, he had thought this path was necessary.

The tense sinew in his jaw would soften as those fingers drifted away, merely content with their place upon the curve of his arm. His other hand would run lightly through his hair, releasing a pent breath in the form of a light sigh. He followed easily the path the damned had set before him, placated to allow the blind to lead, a sordid sense of amusement should that feigned observation not mark out the silhouette of another and allowing the lovely lady to bump against the other ballroom participants. Though considering the length spent with the impairment and the bountiful display of jewelry upon one's visage, he didn't presume the bat would have any trouble with such matters.

However, no sooner than they came to stand before the guard, than the man was speaking clear objection to their passage. “I’m afraid the west wing is off limits to guests. If you seek reprieve from the crowd then might I suggest the gardens? They’re shaded and rather peaceful.” There was a brief pause, the nuance of magic upon the surrounding air like lightening static dancing furiously over the breadth of his tongue. However, the stoic guardian remained unchanged, unwilling to depart his station. Knowing was only confirmed by the obvious irritant in his companion's message. This one must be on herbs or some type of medication. I cannot get a hook into him.

No sooner did the information pass between them than the gentleman adjusted a grip upon his chosen weapon. The soft grate of the polearm seeming overwhelmingly loud in the quiet that followed. Already, his own arcana flooded the veins, shoving itself beneath the skin in a rampant bid for control. There could be no chance for him to make a sound, and likewise, there could be no outward display of blood. If nothing else, the dogs had just as keen a sense of smell, and he needed this to be clean. “Apologies ser. Lovely as they were we found rather unfavorable company in the gardens. Is there no where else?” Came the needed distraction as the last surge found its purchase upon the heart. A large, forceful pulse was enough to explode it within the cavity. Outwardly, there was only the discharge of bile, not an uncommon scent at a party where such refreshments were served in large quantity, but no less disgusting.

A low grunt left Theo as he observed the way the deceased simply began to crumple, and he would glance to the woman at his side. Reanimate him, if you wouldn't mind. He can be our watchdog now. His stare would relinquish from the face as he instead glanced to the cuffs of his sleeves. Thus far, he hadn't spent nearly enough magic to begin to dissolve the bonds of flesh, but he could feel them begin to stiffen slightly with the effort, and he would rather keep them in fine condition than maintain this disguise at present. There would be the worry that much more would force him to depart from the festivities early. What a terrible feat that would be.