Winter followed the two other men into the other room, but she kept an eye on the newcomers and Rembrandt, her own tail twitching only lightly as she left the room. It was hard to tell of it was her own or not, given that it only moved on occasion, and might simply be a part of her clothing, given her long, heavy furred cape.

"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" she said to Demo and Suzerain. I'm not one for larger, lengthy gatherings. I've had enough of that for the time being."

"Technically speaking, we couldn't stop you from following us regardless, but, I suppose you can come. If we find somewhere lacking in an abundance of other company -- all due respect, of course, to the Queen's many honored guests, all of them, no doubt, of great renown and stature and far too worthy for such lowly company as I." Suzerain looks back over his shoulder to see if "Winter" managed to weather that storm of verbosity.

Clearing her throat, Skuld stepped forward. "For one, kind Sir, I am certainly not shy. Quite the opposite, actually." Placing her hand on her hip, jutting it forward slightly, the woman showed the littlest of attitudes. She wasn't trying to be rude-- no. She just happened to be a little bit of a hotheaded vixen. Returning the mans smile, with a cocky one of her own, she let her hand fall to her side. "I'm called Skuld." Tipping her head towards her new found friend, she didn't think it'd be... too rude to introduce her FOR her. "And this here, is Dolly. Or.. well.. " turning towards her, Skuld bit her bottom lip. "I'm not being too brash, am I, Dolly?"

Shaking her head, the woman turned back towards Rembrandt, letting herself fall at ease. He was certainly a charmer, not bad looking, either.. if she did say so herself. But usually, the woman rarely took interest in things like that. His feline features peaked her interest, and inside, she squealed just a bit. The urge to pet him came on strong, but she held back. "Indeed, she holds nothing back. I'm very much pleased to be here, although... " Looking around, she shrugged. "I don't quite know if I belong here."

Winter doesn't appear too concered with Suzerain's extensive vocabulary. She could easily be ignoring it or just as easily not have understood a word.

"Yes, we may all go where we will, within reason," she adds, raising an eyebrow slightly, "but it does make for preferable sitting when's ones compnay is welcome, or at least tolerable."

She glances in the direction of the ball area, though there is no window or do to see through, "I have not made as many intorductions with the guests as perhaps I should have. Though I suppose, if I were the cultured one, people would be more inclined to be introduced to me." Her speech suddenly turned blunt. "Wealth does not come with admiriers."

"Indeed?" Suzerain falls in behind Winter. "And would that wealth be earned, or inherited? You look to have a certain... efficacy about you. Call me curious."

Winter pauses as if in thought. "If one has only inherited wealth, one will not stay wealthy for long." She moves to a side bench set just a little away from the wall and takes a seat.

"And do you make your living in secrets? You're frightfully good at keeping them." Suzerain sits himself next to her, just far enough toward the end that no one will likely disturb them on that end, with enough room on the other side for Sir Demo, if he deigns to join them.

"Of course," he adds, "it's all part of the vogue for tonight, isn't it? And these nights to come. Such mysterious flair, such intriguing duplicity. What do you suppose it says about our kind that we hold this as the highest standard of our contentment, lying to each other in a grand descent of self-delusion?"

"These balls are celebrations of Fantasty. Is it any wonder why we so delight in wearing masks. Still, there is some benefit to a night of anonymity. With the absense of individuals, we can better see some of the people. Did you see the peacock? He has a splendid tail, and a gifted man's wages in every frond." She looked at Suzerain in his raiment of black and white. "And look how many people defer to him, though they may or may not know what profane truths lie behind his mask. How many peacocks do you know, Suzerain?"

"Point taken," Suzerain grunts from behind his mask. "And not a metaphor I particularly wish to dissemble at the moment." He sighs, looking around at all the revelers. "It is fascinating what becomes revealed in this collective anonymity, though. It shall be... interesting to see what else is brought to light."

"I am curious to see what people expect might be brought to light, if anything, beyond who managed to squish themselves into what manner of guady costume." Winter was certainly less gracefull with her speech just now than she had been, and took off her fur cloak to leave pooled just behind her on the bench where she and Suzerain sat.

"This, I think" she held up her sword, "I think I shall keep."

"Are you skilled with that, my dear? I dare say, it looks rather ornate. No, no, I'd not care to taste its edge, thank you all the same. I've never been one for such savage implements. Leave such things to our slaves and their brutish ways, no?" Suzerain remains sitting, though he has leaned forward intently, hands resting on his knees.

"In the state many people choose to keep their slaves it's a wonder they can put up a fight at all." She looks Suzerain directly in the eye. "I keep this weapon for myself."