Posted: Mon May 26, 2008 11:15 am
Initially, the bard's attention is divided between Paul Dirac's reaction to Chicken Bone, and his own budding speculations about the voodan's unexpected presence here. Thus, he does not turn to view the startling scene of multiplicity in the foyer ... until the more disheveled of the two female figures collapses in a swoon.
Alerted by the sound of Mme Trouvé (?) falling to her knees, both Crow and the Dementlieuse turn as one, abandoning their indirect observation via the butter-knife. The sight of two identical women, one in distress, the other in a state of outrage, affects them differently; while Dirac has little cause for concern about the Professor's welfare -- indeed, he knows the Zherisian so slightly, his first assumption could well be that this is her twin in truth -- the bard is quite alarmed by this abrupt duplication.
The Devil...?! What's that swamp-skulking wretch playing at? Or, if not Chicken Bone, then who?
Even as he rises, rushing to the foyer and kneeling at the fallen woman's side -- a veritable picture of the "Good Sanguinian" of Ezran parable, brimming with compassion for his fellow-man -- he looks first to Chicken Bone, then to Kingsley, his eyes questioning. One hand reaches to grasp the stricken figure's arm, supportive, while the limber fingers of the other weave a rhythmic pattern, as if in readiness to work a restorative spell-song upon this ailing soul.
"Pray forgive me this impertinance, Madam," he says, speaking ostensibly to the fallen lady, yet keeping his eyes on the other. "Your distress ... I could not stand aside ... perhaps, if you are unwell, a fortifying libretto may afford some assistance?" The bard's gray eyes are wide, his voice respectful and consoling; to those onlookers not involved, his actions seem naught but charitable.
Behind those eyes, his mind is racing. Who is to blame for this strange replication -- the voodan, the Fraternity, the other spy? -- and, more pressingly, which woman is the true Kingsley?
[OOC: Sorry about the holdup, folks; I figured the bard had better dive into things fast, to make up for it!
[FWIW, at the moment he's doing three things at once: playing innocent for the maitre d'hotel's benefit; checking if the ailing woman might be one of Chicken Bone's undead (by the temperature of her hand and, if necessary, by using a Cure Light spell); and using Sense Motive on the standing Kingsley, to check for indications that she's not the real Gertrude. (Sorry, Pam, but that's exactly the sort of thing Crow would immediately wonder about. )
[Oh, and Nathan, if this is a doppelganger, don't forget that the bard's thoughts are shielded.]
Alerted by the sound of Mme Trouvé (?) falling to her knees, both Crow and the Dementlieuse turn as one, abandoning their indirect observation via the butter-knife. The sight of two identical women, one in distress, the other in a state of outrage, affects them differently; while Dirac has little cause for concern about the Professor's welfare -- indeed, he knows the Zherisian so slightly, his first assumption could well be that this is her twin in truth -- the bard is quite alarmed by this abrupt duplication.
The Devil...?! What's that swamp-skulking wretch playing at? Or, if not Chicken Bone, then who?
Even as he rises, rushing to the foyer and kneeling at the fallen woman's side -- a veritable picture of the "Good Sanguinian" of Ezran parable, brimming with compassion for his fellow-man -- he looks first to Chicken Bone, then to Kingsley, his eyes questioning. One hand reaches to grasp the stricken figure's arm, supportive, while the limber fingers of the other weave a rhythmic pattern, as if in readiness to work a restorative spell-song upon this ailing soul.
"Pray forgive me this impertinance, Madam," he says, speaking ostensibly to the fallen lady, yet keeping his eyes on the other. "Your distress ... I could not stand aside ... perhaps, if you are unwell, a fortifying libretto may afford some assistance?" The bard's gray eyes are wide, his voice respectful and consoling; to those onlookers not involved, his actions seem naught but charitable.
Behind those eyes, his mind is racing. Who is to blame for this strange replication -- the voodan, the Fraternity, the other spy? -- and, more pressingly, which woman is the true Kingsley?
[OOC: Sorry about the holdup, folks; I figured the bard had better dive into things fast, to make up for it!
[FWIW, at the moment he's doing three things at once: playing innocent for the maitre d'hotel's benefit; checking if the ailing woman might be one of Chicken Bone's undead (by the temperature of her hand and, if necessary, by using a Cure Light spell); and using Sense Motive on the standing Kingsley, to check for indications that she's not the real Gertrude. (Sorry, Pam, but that's exactly the sort of thing Crow would immediately wonder about. )
[Oh, and Nathan, if this is a doppelganger, don't forget that the bard's thoughts are shielded.]