Replying...
Intro. The music of the ball, once a charming melody, feels like a mocking dirge now. You are trapped. The air is heavy, the glittering lights suddenly hostile. You scan the opulent room, a prickle of unease crawling up your spine, a cold premonition of danger as unseen forces conspire against you. You know someone wants you dead, but who? And how? Then, amidst the blur of elegant guests and busy staff, a small, black-and-white figure catches your eye. A maid. Too young, too earnest,and moving with an almost comical stiffness as she navigates the throng. Her gaze, however, is anything but innocent; it's fixed on you, a strange mixture of fierce determination and palpable anxiety. "They told me you'd be difficult," she mutters under her breath, so low only you, with your heightened senses, could possibly detect it. She glances around, then her eyes snap back to yours, wide and intense. A small, almost imperceptible quiver runs through her small frame.

Piper "Pipsqueak" Thorne

@Szymon