From the roof of a nearby building, a pair of blue eyes watched the crowd filing into the mansion below. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come. After all, since it seemed all the respectable folks were here, the crooks were likely to use the distraction to do some burglary. Mango snorted. Ah, who was he kidding? His only current client was that crazy old lady who was concerned someone would break in and "hurt my poor, precious little angels", meaning her cats. The rest of the city was not his concern at the moment, and he doubted anyone was going to take the trouble to take those mangy creatures for ransom when their owner clearly had no money to give. Some would find this sentiment ironic, given that Mango himself was feline in appearance himself. Anyone foolish enough to point this out to him would be ignored at best, stabbed at worst. In his home world, it was considered rude to refer to a Mobian solely by breed, but given that he was the only Mobian of any kind here in Ditto Town, this piece of etiquette hadn't exactly become common knowledge. Yet. In the meantime, this was a great opportunity to get some more clients. All he had to do was find the owner of some business that operated in the seedier section of town and offer his services of nighttime protection. Plus, there was free food. With that last thought, he made his way to the fire escape and climbed down, and a minute later crossed the street and joined the other beings approaching the mansion.

Pa-toot-toot, went the engine. A vintage car in mint condition pulled up in front of the Mansion, and a chauffeur listlessly hopped out, strolling around to open a passenger door. A tall, pale woman in a long, shimmering dress stepped out into the sunlight.

Cynthia Ridley, the daughter of the late tycoon of Petrid Co. and heir to the family fortune, adjusted her faux fur wrap and struck an elegant pose. Peering out from under the shaded brim of her terribly chic hat, she glanced slowly around at her surroundings as though she were taking possession of them. She was the very image of coolness and composure.

Until a sneezing fit descended upon her like a pack of wolves.

"Lisette!" Cynthia cried, trying to catch her breath in between sneezes. "Where is my handkerchief? I think... oh no. I think I smell a cat."

Author’s note: These characters were originally created for the Supernova RP and appear here with minor changes.

Daniel Baxter glanced up at the bright blue sky; only a few dark clouds in the west marred its beauty and threatened rain later. This could not dampen his mood, however. It had been a hard week at work, and now it was finally Friday afternoon.

While he really liked his new job as an engineer at the local power plant, its expansion had meant lots to do and very long hours. Now that the project was nearly complete, he was eager to return to regular hours. And right now he was looking forward to a relaxing weekend with his family.

He was met at the door by the excited barks of Candy, their little Welsh corgi, immediately followed by a voice crying out, “Daddy! Daddy!”

He bent over to pet the pup and waited; in a moment the ball of energy that was his daughter followed, wrapping her little arms around him. “Come play with me, Daddy,” the girl sang, grabbing his hand.

“Just a moment, Gracie,” he said with a smile, patting her head with his free hand. “Let me talk to Mommy first.”

“Okay,” she chirped, skipping off toward her room, dog at her heels.

Dan’s wife Angela was seated at the dining room table, the day’s mail spread out before her. They chatted a bit, catching up on the news, and then Angie held out a sheet of paper toward him.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking it. “Looks fancy.”

He quickly read the invitation. “Fundraiser for the Ditto Town Library, eh?” He knew such a cause would be near and dear to his wife’s heart, for she was a teacher at the local elementary school.

“I’d love to go,” she said. “I don’t think we have anything else going on that night.”

“Then it’s a date,” he said with a grin. “But what about Grace? We’ll need to find someone to watch her.”

“No problem. Your parents are watching her that weekend. Remember, they’ve been asking to see her? She’s excited about that.”

“Nice timing. Say, I wonder if Brandon and Gina got an invitation.”

Brandon and Gina Norwood were long-time friends and lived in the house next door. The couple had twin girls about Grace’s age and the kids were usually inseparable.

“I don’t know,” Angie replied. “But that’s the week they’re camping in the mountains.”

Grace’s call came from down the hall. “Coming, Daddy?”

Angie laughed. “Well, I won’t keep you from your tea party any longer.” She took the invitation from him and mused to herself, “Now, what to wear?”

NOTE: The characters used in this post were originally written for "Unilluminated" and "Supernova". They appear in this RP with permission from their respective worlds.

A black sports car of unknown worth (though clearly a lot) pulled into line behind the other vehicles dropping off various guests at the front of the Ditto Mansion. After waiting a few minutes, the car shifted into reverse and pulled around next to the fountain in the middle of the square. The engine went quiet and a handsome, extremely well dressed man stepped out of the drivers side.

From the passenger side an equally well dressed woman emerged. Adjusting her dress ever so slightly as the man made his way to her side, the pair exchanged smiles before proceeding to the mansion.

A brief nod was given to the doorman before the couple entered the building. "Not as nice as mine..." the man muttered under his breath while glancing at the well decorated interior to the young woman, who replied with a stifled laugh.

--------------------

A charity ball at the Ditto Mansion. How nice. Hopefully this will be uneventful, though things seldom are in Ditto Town...

Neal adjusted his fedora and duster jacket as he stepped out of the shadows of a nearby alley by a pub. Quickly sizing up the ever growing line of attendees arriving at the Mansion, the Darkling decided to take a shortcut. Ducking back into the shadows, the man disappeared from the alley. A few short seconds later, Neal emerged from a storage closet... inside the mansion.

Tipping his hat to a maid as he walked down the hall, the rugged Darkling nonchalantly made his way down the stairs and into the main hall where the rest of the guests were gathering.

Mr. Quigley Earnest Dint struggled to contain his excitement (and his horse). "I've never been invited to anything before!" he said to no one in particular. The horse snorted. "I mean, there was that ordeal with the Jedi werewolf, but that hardly--whoa! Easy there, girl."

Mr. Quigley Earnest Dint patted the mare's neck, which was rather difficult with the saddle slipped askew. Before he could offer the horse any more reassurances, however, she had bolted, depositing him in the middle of the street.

"Wait!" Mr. Quigley Earnest Dint called after it. "You forgot your shoes, Milady!"

Mr. Quigley Earnest Dint pondered chasing his wayward horse, but a valet had already caught her.

Of course, pondering things in the middle of the street is not without consequences, as Mr. Quigley Earnest Dint discovered when a rapidly moving vehicle swerved to miss him.

Officer Jeffery Evans wasn't about to let some valet park his car. Just because he had acquired the vehicle through somewhat nefarious means didn't mean make her any less his baby.

He had just finished busting up one of the largest death stick manufacturing gigs in Ditto Town history when he spotted her sitting there in the drug lord's garage. At the time, she didn't look like much. But he had always dreamed of owning this particular type of car and it was doomed to the crusher anyways. So thinking quickly, he hid the sixty-nine Camaro before the rest of force arrived and it had been his ever since.

Once he was parked, Evans re-adjusted his holster and slid into a black sport coat. Jeffery felt naked without his service blaster hooked to his hip. It had only taken him a few days on the force to learn that you never wanted to be without your piece in Ditto Town, where even the most mundane of events could quickly deteriorate into absolute chaos.

When he was ready, Jeff smoothly pulled himself up and out of the window. The doors of course worked perfectly fine but exiting the car in this particular manner made him look and feel incredibly cool, especially when wearing aviators as he was. Having exited the Camaro, Officer Evans quickly dusted off his dark blue jeans and made his way inside.

Granted, there were several good reasons his breed was called "cat". Mostly the face, ears, and the tail. Oh, and the fur. Seriously though, you'd think being bright orange, bipedal, and standing at about three feet would set him apart from the local cats, both the dumb and talking variety.

Suddenly, he heard a fit of sneezing loud enough to draw his attention in spite of the murmuring crowd. Peeking through a small gap, he saw a fancily dressed human female sneezing up a storm.

"Where is my handkerchief? I think... oh no. I think I smell a cat."

Oh, and his fur set off allergies. As a shift in the crowd cleared the way between them while also blocking the way behind him, he decided to add her to his list of "people to never offer my services to".

"Lisette!" Cynthia cried, trying to catch her breath in between sneezes. "Where is my handkerchief? I think... oh no. I think I smell a cat."

"Here it is, milady," called a high female voice. The vintage car ejected another passenger, this one a young woman clad in a black maid's dress and a large white hairbow which rather gave the impression of a floppy, spotless butterfly. Her face underneath the butterfly was comprised mainly of a small mouth, a nose that tilted up at a saucy angle, and large, innocent hazel eyes. A very pretty, smart-looking, but properly inferior figure she cut, beside the elegant and terse Ms. Ridley.

Having shaken the imaginary dust of the car off her skirt, Lisette produced a delicate cotton handkerchief from a reticule and presented it to her mistress. After another moment's search, she held out a small bottle of patent allergy pills. "Will you be wanting the pills as well, milday?"

The Baxters were at the Mansion early enough to catch the arrival of some of the other guests. Dan still felt a bit out of place watching them arrive in fancy cars – and other means of transportation – and wearing such fancy clothes. To be sure, such a gala pretty much demanded formal wear, and both he and his wife were appropriately dressed.

But truth be told, he was more at home with sleeves rolled up, perhaps working on something mechanical, or on his hands and knees working in the garden with his wife. Despite his affinity toward mechanical devices and technology, getting out into the woods – and away from the gadgets – also held a special place for him. There was nothing quite like a day out in the mountains or a night out under the stars. But whatever it was – either camping or attending a gala such as this – doing things with his family pleased him most.

Angie smiled over at him. She sensed his discomfort and loved him all the more for doing things like this for her. She wasn’t quite as outdoorsy as he was but still enjoyed camping and seeing natural wonders. Their curious little daughter was as likely to show her the latest bug she found as she was her father.

“Ready?” he finally asked.

“Got the invitation right here,” she replied, and they walked up to the Mansion together.

Delia Death stood in front of the large rectangular mirror in the entry hall of the Mansion, studying herself. Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, a hair style that left both Delia and Lucy frustrated (Lucy wanted Delia's hair fancy and Delia wanted her hair left alone). A white shirt and a tailored suit jacket were also wins on Lucy's parts, but Delia had stubbornly held on to her boots and leather pants (Lucy hadn't even fought over the boots, actually; they had a significant heel, which somehow made them permissible). Delia had, on her own accord, lightened up on the wrist braces and straps, since they seemed awkward with the suit jacket. The champagne flute in her hand seemed to go well with the jacket, if anything. Still, she studied the peculiar looking woman in the mirror, then rolled her eyes at herself.

Bob had stationed himself at the door to welcome the guests and check their invitations, so Delia decided she would quit loitering around in the entryway and move into the hall where the dinner would be located. She immediately noticed that the large cushy chairs in front of the fireplace had not been moved, and, after stealing a few snacks from the hors-d'oeuvres tray, flopped into one of the chairs, her legs dangling over the arm rest. She yawned and took a sip of her drink. This evening would be fairly long. She could already tell.

"It seems that—SNEEZE!—that would be a very good idea, Lisette," said Cynthia, dramatically splaying a long-fingered hand across her well-preserved brow. She then blew her nose rather loudly and many heads swiveled in her direction at the raucous sound. Why was it her allergies always took precedence over her grace and elegance when it came to garnering attention from others?

"Max, go park the automobile and join the other servants, or whatever it is you do," Cynthia said to the languid chauffeur, waving him away with her hand. "And thank you, Lisette," she added as the small maid handed her the bottle of allergy pills. Digging through the reticule in Lisette's hands, she procured a small bottle of 100% vegan wheatgrass juice and washed the allergy medication down with one gulp.

"Ah," said Cynthia. "I feel better now. Let us head inside. Remember to mind your manners, Lisette. Goodness, is that a duck taking the invitations...? My, I hope my allergy medicine has begun working by the time we are in his vicinity. Ducks have always given me the creeps anyway. Did I ever tell you about the time that I was attacked by my father's flock of ducks? I sneezed for days."

After meandering through the crowd of guests and not noticing anyone he recognized, Neal contented himself with admiring the array of paintings and antiques scattered throughout the mansion. Idly wandering into the great hall, the familiar yellow glow and smokey smell of a well kept firep caught the Darklings attention.

Making his way to the fireplace, Neal failed to notice the feminine figure comfortably sprawled out in one of the overstuffed chairs. "Good to know there's a place to retreat to if needed tonight." Neal said to no one.

Delia studied the darkly clad figure for a few minutes, deciding if he was worth the effort of shaping a sufficiently biting reply or not.

"You're free to retreat most anywhere,as long as it isn't onto my chair," she finally said, then raised her glass slightly. "Nice coat."

As the chauffer drove off and Cynthia took her pill, Lisette nodded or shook her head appropriately.

"Yes, milday; a duck seems not to be proper at all. No, milday; I don't believe you have."

Of course, Cynthia truly had mentioned the incident with the ducks once or twice before, but a proper lady's maid never denies her mistress the opportunity to tell a story over. As Ms. Ridley finished the wheatgrass juice, she airily handed the bottle back to Lisette, who promptly stored it back in her reticule. From the same bag, she produced the invitation bearing the name CYNTHIA RIDLEY in bold letters and handed it to her mistress.