what?
[] Still-bleeding stumps
[] Hair
[] Determined
[] Your parents had powerful magic, and had maintained the cities as they burned. Dangerous work, but well paying. You helped as much as you could.
Well, you mused as you skimmed along the edge of the crowd, you'll probably settle for whatever was closest to your hands when it comes time to stop all of this stupid useless infighting. Hair, still bleeding stump, whatever was a convenient handhold. You weren't too picky.
You make it halfway to the door before a servant approaches you. "Would miss care for a drink?" He asks, and holds out a tray of small glasses, each filled with a pink liquid the exact shade of the Duchess Sophia's elaborately curled locks.
Taking one, you give it a sidelong glance. You didn't have much of a chance to sample drinks like this. Your parents were well off, but keeping the city's infrastructure running didn't leave them much free time to cultivate a taste for fine alcohol. You've tried some of the stronger beers that come out of one of the other cities in your time with the rebels, though, and handled those well enough.
Drink it?
[] No. You can't risk that it's too strong for you.
[] Yes. You can't risk standing out of the crowd.
Then you proceed again, making it to the back door and standing nearby while you wait for the distraction. This is a high-society ball, and everyone who's 'anyone' is in attendance. As a group dedicated to taking power from the ruins of the old monarchy, everyone expects you to do something.
You get the idea that they men and women wearing more on their body than your parents made in a year are thinking of something along the lines of sabotaging the microphone, and rigging the stage to collapse. What your part of the operation is doing is, well, completely beyond the pale. That kind of thing is simply not done.
You don't care.
"Interesting day." A gruff voice speaks from close beside you, and you startle, hand dipping to your- You stop yourself from grabbing the signal crystal that would broadcast the failure message, but only barely, and look at the man who surprised you. "Telvits, of the Four Heavenly Kings." He says, but doesn't bow.
That means this isn't official, at which you calm down some. "Serenity." You introduce yourself and pause, trying to remember your cover story.
"Never mind that." He huffs. "I can recognize someone who doesn't fit better than you can act flustered and offended, but I can't find it in me to care what game you're playing, Serenity."
Ah.
You relax. Telvits is well known for being the only one of the Earth King's officers to actually care about the affairs of the moon overhead, but this fit with what you'd heard of him. The man's been campaigning for at least a temporary ceasefire between the various royal candidates for decades, ever since that white hair was a crimson red.
You make small talk about the party, and discover to your enjoyment that he doesn't care for the Duchess overmuch either. After a while, he starts to ask more personal questions. Nothing about the rebels, or what your goal here today is, but he seems to want to know who you are. That's nothing unusual, you once heard that he pulled aside one soldier out of a thousand on parade and asked him what his favorite color was. The man's either a little silly in the head or he's a genius.
"They worked with infrastructure." You explain. "Keeping the city running smoothly. A few years back I started helping them work on. . ."
What, exactly, was your parents' specialty?
[] Atmospheric integrity forcefields. Delicate work, and one poorly cast spell would suffocate swathes of the city.
[] Building repair and construction. You had to be careful not to make the floors too thin or the walls too brittle.
[] Enhancing plant growth. You've got a good handle on making the right things grow. Nobody wanted a crop of weeds.
[] Scrubbing the air. Separate the pollutants, transmute carbon to oxygen, replace the lost atmosphere. Sigh.
[] General maintenance. There are thousands of kinds of machines for everything, and they're always breaking down.