Tarot memory share [Phoenix]

[guillotineroom]

The room you enter this time is an ostentatious fortune tellers tent. Colourful silks drape the walls with intricate golden constellations embroidered on the ceiling. Various crystals, candles, magic 8 balls, and other superstitious sundries are scattered throughout the tent.

In the centre of the room is a table with ten chairs around it, and three cards laid out for you:

HIEROPHANT, STRENGTH, SUN

[ RULES | TURN-IN ]

Comments

[retroductions]

[He's more than happy to oblige!]

Well, I shall start with a simple preface: earlier in my career as a detective, I was visited by a man of high social standing. He was a king! The King of…

[Give him a minute.]

…Germany! No, that's not right. Bohemia! The King of Bohemia paid me a visit. Masked, of course, but I was able to tell quite immediately that it was him. You can imagine how desperate he was to find it.

His business was urgent. I was tasked with retrieving a most scandalous photograph, for fear of it being used against him as blackmail, or to upend his forthcoming wedding.

[gunmettle]

[ This sounds so... whimsical. ]

Okay, a king and a scandalous photograph, gotcha.

[ This sounds a bit like a job he'd taken himself, only instead of a king it was his landlady, and the scandalous info was in the hands of a bat man living in the sewers.

ANYWAY. ]

Go on.

[retroductions]

Well, of course I accepted the case. Thankfully, the main suspect had already been identified, and thus, I was left with the conundrum of how to approach it.

One may not simply walk into a gentleman’s manor without reason, after all, and I had begun to build a reputation for myself at the time, so suspicions would run high if I showed my face as-is. A disguise was in order. One that would feasibly gain me entry if I feigned the need for help, and information as to the whereabouts of the photograph if I played at… intimacy. Flirtatiousness.

Employing the mysterious wiles of an intelligent and beautiful woman!

[Yes, that was his disguise.]

[gunmettle]

[ WAT. ]

I gotta say, the mental image of you in a dress just isn’t doin’ it for me.

[retroductions]

[He grins, then picks up The Moon card and flaps it around.]

Then your imagination fails you, I'm sorry to say. Perhaps it would be more beneficial for you to see it for yourself?

[gunmettle]

Sure. I could use a good laugh today.

Moon memory sharing time

[retroductions]

Right then. Let us give it a go.

[Having watched others do this little tarot trick, it’s easy enough to will the card to produce the memory, as though it were pulling it from Sholmes’ own mind. The images soon manifest, clear as day, for everyone to see:]

Inside a smoke-hazed London flat, Sholmes completes his business with his newest client. The mustachioed man stands from his seat first, preparing to leave, his expression grave as he regards the detective opposite of him.

“Again, I must stress to you the importance of retrieving the photograph,” he says, thickly accented. “My future— No, my country’s future depends on it. You will be rewarded very handsomely, should you need more material motivation.”

“Material rewards are secondary.” Sholmes stands, too, but with less rigidity in his frame, holding the end of his pipe as he rises along with the wisps of languid smoke. “The challenge itself will be reward enough, though I cannot say I will turn down whatever you see fit to provide me. For now, do not fret, Your Majesty. I will find what is being kept from you; by tomorrow, I expect.”

The king’s brows raise in surprise. “Tomorrow? Your confidence is unmatched, Mr Sholmes. I only hope that your performance follows suit.”

“My dear fellow,” Sholmes says, his lips tugging upwards, “I’ve already an idea for a marvelous performance, indeed. It will more than suffice.”

“Very well. Then I will leave you to it, detective. Good day, and I will call upon you again in the morning.”

Sholmes sees the man out, as is only proper for a king, but once the door closes, he turns on his heel and retreats into his bedroom with the jaunt of a determined, eager man. Time passes, but flashes of activity play out like a summary of the purposeful decisions within.

The detective has a disguise for every occasion, and he unearths the garments of a lady from his secondary armoire, or from his closet stuffed to the brim with clothing. Stockings are tended to, a corset is laced. The dress of fine material is worn, and then comes the makeup, as he sits in front of a mirror and tends to his eyes, his lips, powders his cheeks and nose with a precise sort of delicacy. And then, the wig — long, light locks, braided and pinned up in the most fashionable style. The rest is a matter of accoutrements, the finishing touches. Silk gloves, a brooch, earrings, a wide-brimmed ladies’ hat with a plume of bird feathers.

And, before he leaves his room, a parasol, frilled and pastel to match the glow of his complexion.

When he leaves 221B, stepping out onto London’s sidewalks as he waits for a hansom cab, he is no longer recognizable as Herlock Sholmes, the great detective. No, he is the perfectly beautiful, the wickedly clever, the immensely enticing Irene Adler; slender and tall and graceful. The deception is complete, the illusion becomes the reality.

As the cab approaches, and Ms Adler climbs in with her skirts flitting at the edges of her heels, there is no reason to believe she is anything but a woman.

The woman.

[briarliar]

[ had been politely covering her eyes during the dressing montage but watching as Sholmes takes leave in the cab ]

Oh, you looked very natural in those heels! Sometimes they take getting used to. I'm impressed Mr. S-, erm, in this case is it Miss Sholmes?

[retroductions]

In this case, that is Ms Irene Adler! The beautiful, the clever, the mysterious!

...And thank you. The heels took a bit of practice, but I eventually became proficient enough to even run in them! Though my back would always ache terribly the next day.

[briarliar]

Hmm, it takes a lot of balancing work for running! And maybe a different kind of heel. The ones added on to the shoe are more likely to break, I've found.

[retroductions]

Have you broken a lot of heels in your time, Mrs Forger? That sounds like a very easy way to twist an ankle. Women's clothing is a trial unto itself, isn't it?

[briarliar]

It's not always easy, I admit. I like my clothes but sometimes I wish I could have more pockets like the men's suits...

[ it would be much easier to carry weapons that way ]

[retroductions]

Mm. What you need is a thick winter coat. Then you may line the inside with as many pockets as you like, and still look fashionable.

[briarliar]

I have one just like that, and it's very lovely! B-but it might be conspicuous in the summer...

[ honestly Yor is fine with the cold, but she wears that coat specifically for pockets and Loid got it for her ]

I'm still very impressed you managed with heels and a corset. The two of those together are very unwieldy.

1/2

[gunmettle]

[ Truth be told, Juzo didn’t know what to expect when he went walking into this situation. As he watches the memory unfold, he still doesn’t know what to expect, but damn if Sholmes isn’t as good at this whole disguise business as he says he is.

Maybe too good. Juzo is fidgeting, like he’s a little uncomfortable. ]

[gunmettle]

[ He shakes himself out of it, taking a drag of his cigarette to stall for a moment. ]

You sure don’t do anything by half, do you?

[retroductions]

[He watches the memory, too, fondly. Admiring his own expertise, perhaps -- but needless to say, he absolutely notices Juzo's fidgeting and the way he takes a too-long drag of his cigarette before he replies.

Sholmes hasn't the grace enough to not latch onto it and laugh.]

Why, what's the matter, Mr Inui? Ms Adler is quite the sight, isn't she? If you were stunned by her beauty, there is no reason to be embarrassed.

[gunmettle]

[ There is a serious violation of the deduction bro code happening here. ]

W-wha– I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.

[ He is so bad at this. ]

[retroductions]

You're an awful liar!

[He is indeed Terrible at this.]

Your reaction speaks volumes! Why, I never thought that a gun could blush, but I daresay that is what I am observing right before my very eyes!

[Bro code definitely demolished.]

[gunmettle]

Can it, Sholmes! I don’t blush!!

[ Someone help him. ]

[retroductions]

[He is on his own.]

There is a first for everything! Admit it, my friend. You are dazzled.

[CALL HIM PRETTY]

[freearcadia]

Hah... I can think of a few people that might want to take pointers.

[Harlock had been absent, grabbing food and drinks for people - returning in time for that memory]

[retroductions]

Welcome back, Captain! Just in time for the show. Do you know many who are apt at disguises, too?

[freearcadia]

Not true master of disguises, but someone that likes to relax in women's clothes off-duty.

[retroductions]

Well, I can hardly blame them. I find some enjoyment in the art, even if it isn't necessarily related to a case.