Masquerade!

[bargeist]

When; The evening of February 12^th
Rating; G - PG-13 (if your thread goes higher than that, please tag it as such!)
Characters; Anyone and everyone in the City
Summary; Everyone in the City will also receive an invitation to the Doge's Palace (no, not that doge, the other one--probably...) for a masquerade on the evening on February 12th. Come in your finest finery and come masked--after all, anything one does while wearing a mask can be forgiven, as one is not oneself behind a mask♥
Note; This is the mingle log for the masquerade ball tonight! It is being posted early due to the threat of icy weather and attendant power outages in my area (which would mean this post might not go up at all if there's no precious, precious internet). So apologies for the earliness, but please enjoy~

Log; The City is transformed, with streets made into canals, with arched bridges and narrow alleyways along those canals. Gondoliers are singing as their boats drift along. Flowers seem to bloom from every wall and window. The City is a marvel.

Not least of all is the palace on Misery Square, just near the Cathedral. Where did it come from? Who can say? But it is well-known that this is the place for the evening's masquerade.

Let the liveried servants escort you in to the lavish ballroom decorated all in red and gold and lit by hundreds of candles. There is music, because there must be, and food and drink, and balconies and corners and cooler rooms aside into which one can slip if one needs such a place.

Just remember to wear your finest finery and to wear a mask. You don't have a mask? Not to worry: the master of his house is generous in many ways. There are masks to be had at the door if you haven't worn your own (and there are many shops in which to find such treasures today).

So, what will you do first? Find someone with whom to dance? Try to determine who that might be behind that mask? Plot and scheme (because ballrooms lend themselves to that)? Fall in love?

A romantic evening, truly.

Comments

Open

[just_displaced]

[Masquerade balls aren't particularly his style, but, well, he's here, isn't he? He might as well make the most of it. The fact that the City appears to have been transformed into a different place entirely should concern him, maybe, but it doesn't.

Maybe he's getting too used to this place.

As for the issue of wearing his finest finery, it seems that he's decided that a white shirt, a red jacket, and a purple tie qualify nicely -- and his mask, which only covers his eyes, is equally bright, in an almost garish pink shade.

Now he just has to find someone he knows.]

[glamorsongstress]

[Ruby has to resist the urge to shield her eyes from the bright colours as she passes by. She's not sure whether to be horrified or impressed by the garishness of his ensemble. Either way, it merits acknowledgement. ]

Enjoying the party?

It's the jacket in this icon, really. It's pretty. Uh. Bright.

[just_displaced]

[He almost startles when he hears someone speaking to him, which probably gives the indication that he's not particularly socializing, nor expecting anyone to acknowledge him, even if he is standing at a masquerade ball in completely eye-catching attire. He looks up from the floor that he's been staring intently at and nods, at first, then shrugs.]

It's, um. Yeah, I guess I'm enjoying it okay. I've never really been to something like this before. I'm not sure what the rules are quite yet.

[Which is why he's been watching everyone else to figure it out.]

[anunluckypenny]

[Ginsberg makes himself pretty easy to spot, even with the mask. Penny isn't exactly incognito herself, dressed, as usual, in an outfit that looks rather like it belongs at a different party. Who can afford elegant, sweeping ballgowns? Seriously. Upon spotting Ginsberg, she makes her way over to say hello.]

Hey there, stranger.

[just_displaced]

[He looks up when he sees her, grin spreading across his face.]

Hi! I was hoping I'd see you here. I mean, that's pretty much the only reason I showed up, truth be told.

Open

[glamorsongstress]

[Ruby's dressed extravagantly, and her face isn't really disguised at all behind the mask she's chosen. She spends the evening flitting around the dance floor, although when she takes a quieter moment, her attention is firmly on the scene outside, enchanted by the canals and gondolas.]

[recognize_an_opportunity]

[He should have known he'd be able to find her here, of all places -- it's not like she's hard to spot, not in a dress like that with hair like hers. He has a mask of his own, but it's a simple one that really does very little to disguise him. The tuxedo he wears, though, is impeccable.

He approaches her with a smile and a glass of champagne extended to her.]

Enjoying the festivities?

[glamorsongstress]

[She accepts the champagne with a grin, raising it towards him before sipping at it.]

I am indeed. Seems like they've pulled out all the stops.

open.

[hexuality]

[Ginny Weasley can never resist a good party, and the City has certainly spoiled her for some in her time here. And having ownership of Cinna's boutique means she can borrow a dress and if anything happens to it, well, there's magic to tend to any spills or tears that might happen. She's never been to a masquerade, though, and finding the City transformed and an invitation slid under her door thrilled her more than she might care to admit.

She arrives unaccompanied, but completely plans on hunting down her friends in the throng of finery and masks, and Miss Weasley herself seems to match the decor—red and gold and as Gryffindor as they come. Her dress is a deep gold and her mask matches it, her hair unbound in loose curls and as fiery as ever. She's positively beaming as she slips through the room—come find her.]

[candothat]

[Chekov would recognize that red hair anywhere, even if it is done up. He isn't dressed quite so magnificently--his suit is accented by a rather whimsical tie, his mask looks decidedly homemade, and every now and then his command gold socks reveal themselves--but he's enjoying himself and that's what matters. Right?

As soon as he identifies Ginny, Chekov bounds over to her and bows in the most dramatic and grandiose way possible.]

Miss Weasley, may I ask for a dance?

[hexuality]

[Even if the accent didn't give it away, his tie and mask do, and Ginny's delighted by the ingenuity as well as the bowing. She curtsies in return (thank you, Pevensies), giggling all the while.]

You may, Mr Chekov. I like your mask.

[brobeforehos]

[There's a certain quietness to Mae this evening that isn't customary of her party-person at all. Perhaps she will blame it on the nature of this Masquerade, how it's reminding her of society galas her mother used to attend and sometimes help host. Definitely won't blame it on her own sense of self-sabotage, which has been craning its neck for a while now.

And most certainly, she won't blame it on the work she sees going on near the carousel every morning as she walks to work. More and more, she's starting to think they really will open some door and let them all out, and more and more every interaction with every friend feels...final. Which is why she drags Ginny out with such urgency, why she asks to borrow a dress last minute (versus making a toga for herself, ha), and why she is chasing her with colourful looking drinks.]

Alright, I got us these. Sugary - but I remember you like them, and they seem to be serving them in spades. Have you seen anyone we know?

[hexuality]

[Ginny feels it too, that sort of impending sense of something that she finds herself hoping is nothing at all. She's beyond being angry that people think she's given up or settled because she's made a life here and one doesn't abandon five years of memories or friendships just because they happened outside of your own world's time. Still, she's trying to let herself enjoy things, though the last few departures have left her a little more hollow. The friends that are still here help ground her.

When Mae approaches, she can't help but laugh. Yeah, they help a lot.]

Pavel, a bit ago. I'm going to give it another few minutes before I call Sulu and annoy him about coming out. [She grins, taking the offered drink, touching the glass to the other woman's.] Cheers for these. Has anyone tried to chat you up yet? You look stunning, I don't care if I say it again.

open;

[anunluckypenny]

[As dedicated to her work as she is, Penny thinks it's healthy to kick back and go to fancy parties. It's not like the City throws fancy parties often! But honestly, it's kind of awkward. She's not good at fancy, as, perhaps, her outfit might suggest. In a room full of ballgowns, Penny's outfit doesn't look quite as sharp as she thought it did, especially after she ditches the jacket.

Penny hangs back out of the way, totally out of her element. She makes the occasional detour to say hello to someone she recognizes, but, for the most part, she stands around like out of place decor.

[synanthrope]

[It's even more awkward when Saya spots her. She's doesn't always come to these events - she doesn't like the noise - but in an outfit like the one she's wearing, it's hard for her to do anything but draw attention. He hair is bundled up in a complicated looking hairstyle, topped with a golden spider hanging from web that cascades down her hair.]

Penny.

[There's a smile there, but it's not altogether friendly.]

Don't you look pretty.

[People may think that Saya is mean by accident, but she's perfectly capable of the kind of barbs that make her mean by design.]

[brobeforehos]

[And sometimes, someone finds Penny. There's a rosy tint to her cheeks by now, the cause of a few glasses of punch that have Mae feeling very pleasantly buzzed, and smiling widely.]

Penny! [She'll spare you the It's me moment, because who would not recognize her with the hair?] You look adorable and beautiful at the same time, why is there no drink in your hand? [She turns, as if to glare at some invisible men or women.] Are people blind here?

open.

[notpraying]

[She's been a relatively quiet and observant new arrival, content to spend time pawing through the library or mingling among the contemps and asking them about their lives in the City, how long it's been, what their home worlds are like. Kivrin is a naturally curious young woman and she's careful and polite about how she explores the City but always probing for more. Still, she hasn't experienced a curse quite on this level yet, one that transforms the entire place to look like classic Venice. She's charmed by it, whether or not she believes in magic.

She isn't spectacularly dressed, a simple sheath of a dress and a mask that matches her heels. She lingers by the windows with a flute of champagne and smiles at passerby, finding herself enjoying this transportation to yet another time in the decor alone.]

so very open;

[brobeforehos]

[The last time the City tried to resemble Venice had been terrifying, but then again during that time most curses had been terrifying; she's reluctant to get involved until nearly the very last minute, in fact, in spite of being a sword party-goer. Maybe it's maturity reached with age, or maybe it's the growing feeling that something is perhaps ending - she's seen the Anons at work, it's given her many thoughts - but it's not until early evening that Mae decides she deserves some fun.

She can't go around preaching to her friends about how they have to chase their happiness and grab it by the shoulders and shake it before putting it in their pockets, if she doesn't at least attempt to go out there and get some. Happiness. Or whatever else may come.

With a little help from her fairy-witchy-godmother-friend Ginny, she scores herself a dress and paints the mask on herself, because let's be honest - who wouldn't recognize that shock of pink hair anyway? Passing by unnoticed is not what she's aiming for, tonight.

In fact the minute she steps foot into the ballroom, she knows what she's aiming for: fun. And alcohol. And dancing.]

[candothat]

[It certainly feels like a final party. There's something in the air--an end, or at least a change. Regardless, Chekov is doing his level best to enjoy himself, which isn't difficult when there are so many potential dance partners, a variety of drinks, and a remarkable buffet.

He catches sight of Mae's pink hair and makes his way over, suit fittingly formal with the exception of the command gold socks, novelty tie, and a mask that looks very homemade. Because Mae usually takes well to compliments, he deems it necessary to state the obvious.]

Miss Mae, you are truly beautiful. Why is there no line to dance with you?

Open; | ROLLS IN FASHIONABLY LATE

[primrosella]

[Rosella's rather lost count of how many Valentine's Day (or thereabouts) affairs she's been to in the City by now.

Some of them have been more memorable than others, certainly; there was one she only vaguely remembers, long ago, when she'd attended a gala of red roses with Blue at her side, and despite the lingering heartache that had tinged the whole thing with melancholy, they'd really rather had a time of it, even so. Others are fresher in her mind--another time when they'd seen the canals of Venice and all come together behind masks, just as they are tonight.

The dress and mask she's wearing tonight are familiar ones; at the top of her head is perched her crown (arranged elegantly atop her done-up blonde hair), and peeking out from beneath the hems of her skirts are her familiar old glass slippers, still as full of memories as the day she first slipped them on.

But something's gotten into her tonight, it seems. Where normally she's fond of immersing herself in the dancing and merriment, traipsing around to take in all the sights and seek to spot a friendly face behind the parade of elegant masks, tonight she's looking around at the decor with a fresh and, some might even say inspired, eye.

Parties are something she's always associated with her mother, and later (equally fondly) with Blair Waldorf. And she's always modestly demurred when the topic came up, insisting that such things are simply beyond her skill.

Tonight, though, she almost feels as though that's changed.

Tonight, she's as much Princess Rosella of the City as she is Princess Rosella of Daventry, and something about the grandeur has set her scheming even as she makes her way about the floor and waits to see if a friendly gentleman might appear with a request for a dance.]

ROLLS OVER

[synanthrope]

[She sees Rosella and her fabulous pink frock and her fantastic glass slippers and gives a fond sort of smile. There's a part of Saya that likes Rosella, as much as she can like anyone who she doesn't love (if that makes any sense at all.

She comes over in her golden dress with her golden shoes and on her finger there is a ring that was not there before. A diamond ring, the diamond in the center black, but it's clearly an engagement ring.]

Rosella.

OMG IT'S A ROSELLA

[anunluckypenny]

[Penny doesn't recognize Rosella immediately, which is rather silly of her since the princess is dressed like a princess from the crown to the glass slippers. She almost doesn't go over to say hello (her get up looks like it's going to a completely different and far less regal party and she is properly embarrassed), but such elegance cannot go without comment.]

Oh my god, Rosella? You look... [like there should be bowing or something here] ...wow. I had better adjectives a second ago, sorry!

Much open, very log. Wow.

[sitaronthewater]

[Demyx has been graced with the one and only mask that kind of winds up looking like a fish. But, it doesn't really bother him. He's been out with all the water all day, enjoying himself. But, hey, free food now, huh? And the music's kinda nice.

He's moving back and forth from the catered spread to the dance floor, occasionally humming along with the tune. He's also still in his normal coat and boots, and still pretty likely to bump into someone, literally.]

Cain Hargreaves | Open

[misterblackbird]

[Cain may have chosen the black velvet mask, with its cat's eyes and winged shape almost suggesting whiskers, out of some fit of ironic amusement. After all, he had spent more than a few days (indeed, entire weekends) as a cat. But this mask was as much bandit or highwayman as it was a cat's true face. It suited him, he thought: his cat's eyes and this cat's face.

White tie for the occasion, as would befit an evening spent at a duke's palace (because that's what this was, clearly, though the City's dreamlike interpretation of it).

He arrived just late enough to make certain he was noticed, but not so late that any events of the evening would already be too far gone in memory. In his coattails and mask, he walked the edge of the ballroom, watching and waiting--it was a familiar kind of walk, one often missed in the City, and perhaps one he would return to in London sooner than he expected.

But best not to get one's hopes up too high about the promises of escape and freedom. For now there was an entire evening of dancing and games. And there were a few here he was determined to have a dance with--more than one dance.

Because there were such things in motion now as could not be stopped by any man or woman. He could see that now. Megumi's return, that first conversation between them, and he had felt some realization dawning. And he smiled to himself, quietly, and he watched the dancers, the ladies like bright paper flowers tied to the hands of their partners and turning there as though in a wind.]

[primrosella]

[The funny thing about masquerade balls, really, is that perhaps the easiest way of ferreting out a guest's identity is to stop looking for signs of a familiar face and simply look for the ones who know how to dance, instead.

Well, provided the person you're looking for happens to be one of the few known for being rather good at it, anyway.

Rosella's wearing a mask herself, but it's not doing much to conceal her identity in the presence of her other trappings; who but a princess would arrive in glass slippers, after all. And perhaps moreover, who but a princess could dance in them without mishap?

(They remind her of Rue, deep down. Rue who gave them to her that first Christmas, Rue who could tell she was a princess before she ever confessed it herself.)

As for how she spots Cain, though...

Well. Maybe that just goes to familiarity of another kind--the sort where they've known each other long enough that she'll always somehow know him, no matter what masks and mysteries might stand in the way.]

It really is lovely, isn't it?

[And far from the first time they've done this, attended this sort of affair, danced this sort of dance. It's familiar but never stale. They've grown older without it ever getting old.]