((Please note this thread does not begin until the completion of the Elysium Scene))

Beaumont sat alone in the basement of the house, scraps of fabric and socks laying strewn about as she began work on the various characters of the next show...she'd been waiting for inspiration since she'd arrived, and it seemed that the Nossie's deciscion to keep a low profile prior to court had in fact been the wiser choice, considering how the madman seemed to cut people off and cast them away much like the piles and piles of used socks that surrounded her did...

The strange melodious tones escaping her lips nothing like the voice she shared with the others, peaceful, almost soothing like the song of a mother over a babe's cradle as the sewing machine hummed, the glue gun heated, and bits of beads, yarn and other crafts were put together as the images and skewed recollections of court moved through her hands and into the socks, "Down darker paths we walk...through moonlit passages we stroll...they lurk on the edges, and whisper...puppets...puppets...puppets are they all..."  There was a brief pause as she adjusted an eye on one of her creations, and then set back to work..."Pretenders to power like peacocks they strut...puppets...puppets...puppets them all..."  

The next two nights would be spent for the most part working on the puppets, putting them together just right, along with the small notecards that accompanied each one to denote who it was...The following night would of course be spent on making scenery and signs, her moment of pride being upon the completion of a cardboard version of a winnebego with a side cut out...smiling to herself she couldn't help a laugh when all was said and done...who needed to listen to the harpies when you could reduce kindred and their elders to a thing of amusement for six year olds to laugh at and muse over?

Beaumont popped the dvd into the player to review the work that had been done...it brought a very amused smile to her face.  She really couldn't help herself at that...could she?  Good work.  Perhaps enough time had passed that the connection made between what she'd done and what had happened in the kindred community would go unnoticed.