Open Chronicles The Valenntenian Masquerade Festival

[Stella]

She'd engaged in the third conversation of the evening, quietly suffering the common prattle of what must have been the dozenth warrior in attendance and their many conquests on the battlefields beyond the city. Stella had to actively remind herself to blink, to nod, to change her emotive facade. Trouble was, the dragon had never been particularly good at human facial expressions. She understood them well enough, could read a human by scent and vision alone in most cases, but failed to implement them herself.

It made her rather off-putting to speak to in most cases. Lyta had given it a name... resting bitch face, though Stella could hardly figure what a female dog had to do with any of it.

Some beat of the conversation engaged laughter from the others in the circle she currently found herself in, prompting the not-Guardian to lift her brows slightly and offer a tepid, "Ah-hah," of ill-performed humor.

"For all the complexities of the drink," he said from behind his own false visage. A coupe of Dreirerg red clutched in one of his hands. "I find myself missing the familiar bitterness of cured leaf,"

The woman's eyes shifted to the newest mask to join the discussion - if one could call the exchange of words surrounding her such a thing - and shortly flinched in startled surprise. Not at the nature of his mask, but at catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrors attached to it. She rather disliked mirrors, especially when in human form. Stella would never get used to seeing herself as not herself.

"Indeed," she replied stiffly, blinking away the shock of it, "for all the effort put into planning this event, there is an alarming abundance of tea...just not the right kind." Stella looked around with a harrowing sigh of breath at the jovial sea of chatter and gossip surrounding her.

"Your mask, Sir," he being the first person of any interest to grace her presence, suddenly found himself the target of her knowing and probing gaze, "its style is rather unique in this part of the world. I've only seen something of its likeness in the far north, beyond the Steppes."

 

[Vazia Ferreira]

Was that nervousness she detected upon his aspect? He called her lovely, kissed her hand, and bowed, his charming, chivalrous actions hiding what she thought might be nervous excitement. Vazia was vaguely relieved at it; at least she wasn't alone.

She considered falling back into their easy, comfortable back and forth banter, but found she was rather at a loss for words. This night required a bit of seriousness, anyway. But when had she ever not been serious? This night was indeed a night of many firsts.

"Yes," was her only, short answer, her gaze never leaving Villam's, her hand not falling from his. She could have said something more elegant or poetic, met his flattery with some of her own, but she felt it would not have been true to herself or how she felt in that moment. Feeling- Vazia almost could not believe it. A thrill of fear tempered by excitement ran through her at the thought. Perhaps distance from her stone would be in fact beneficial.

Villam Regis

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

"I am glad to see you, Mabbon." She smiled, willing her cheeks to cease their rising colour. "Your mask is quite clever."

'I'm glad you think so!' Mabbon smiled, quietly pleased with himself. In truth, his mask was nothing special; dark as shadow, with swirling patterns of silver, it covered his face entirely. All the better to hide my identity, he mused, finding the idea of his deceiving anyone frankly laughable.

'Your dress is lovely,' he continued, unabashedly. 'Could have sworn I've seen its like somewhere before, though. In a certain Gallery, perhaps?'

He drew up short as a powerful elbow jabbed him in the ribs. Rubbing at the spot where his sister had nudged him, Mabbon nodded. 'Anyways! Kaira, allow me to introduce my sister, Cynthia. Cyn, this is-' He grunted at another dig in the ribs. 'I know who she is, Mabbs!' The she-orc replied, smoothing out her skirts and clearing her throat of the venom with which she had addressed him.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Guardian Yehven. I've heard so much about you!'

Cynthia's gaze flitted to Mabbon. Blinking, he shrugged, turned to Kaira. 'I haven't the faintest idea what she's talking about,' he said, feigning innocence.

Kaira Yehven

 

[Lyta]

"Is that the new Guardian of Light?" Eamon asked as he handed his sister one of the fanciful sugary treats the vendors had created. Hers was in the shape of a star which she found delightful. It was almost a shame to eat it, but she took her first bite as she turned to follow the direction in which her brother had nodded. Even if she had never seen Hruugen in person before, it was hard to ignore the contented thrum from the Dreamrune that hung from the slender chain around her throat. The runes seemed to recognised one another no matter who guarded them and their desire to be close to one another was the reason why so many of them travelled for most of the year. Wonderful but deadly things could happen should they spend too long in close proximity.

"I believe so," Lyta took another thoughtful bite. "I have not actually had a chance to meet them..." she glanced up to her brother apologetically. Before Lyta had a chance to ask he held up his hands with a chuckle.

"Go, introduce yourself. I can entertain myself for a while," his eyes were already roving to one of the Faerywe twins and Lyta resisted the urge to roll her eyes after he had been so gracious as to excuse her. Before either of them could change their mind, Lyta swept across the courtyard pausing here and there to return polite greetings before coming to a halt in front of her new fellow guardian. She dipped a small curtsey.

"Guardian of the... Light?" her eyes flickered over his form for any sign of the rune her own told her resided with this man. "I am Lady Lyta, Guardian of the Dreamstone," she held out a hand with a smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you in person at last."

 

[Roki]

Roki grinned and gave a nod to Alaric. "Not yet," he said sure as sure.

Pulled in, he whooped. Laughed, and settled into step alongside the pair of Sworn. Fixed his cloaked cape some with fine adjustments from his left hand, "I was just as surprised as you were, Saskia, believe me," his right hand still cupped close the smooth length of his ashwood staff, and the paper lantern, red dyed and orange glowed, hung in the air behind them, feather light, before it sailed back to its gentle swing. "Lemons?" he loved lemons.

He watched as Saskia took a bite. Grinned at the spritz of juice and oils that followed the bite. Nod as the smell of lemons tickled his nose. He looked to the sugar coated citrus, they gleamed like crystalline little treasures.

"I'm sold," he said, eyes wide with excitement. a coin there in his hands, he exchanged it with the vendor, and came away with lemon. Wasted no time in taking a bite. His brows raised high with delight.

He wondered if he could get some plants to bring back to the Monastery. Then he turned the rind over and gave it chomp. Bitterness buzzed across his palette, and his whole face scrunched up to wrinkles.

"Blah," he grunt a low small sound as he let his tongue out. "Still bitter," he said. Took another bite, and chewed.

Alaric Wulf Saskia Kerraelas

 

[Hruugen]

Hruugen felt strange as Lyta approached. The stone was speaking to him.

"Guardian of the... Light?" her eyes flickered over his form for any sign of the rune her own told her resided with this man. "I am Lady Lyta, Guardian of the Dreamstone," she held out a hand with a smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you in person at last."

No it was a person.
He turned and in politeness he removed his mask that he might introduce himself and took Lyta's offered hand in his own with course, well worn fingers.
"Hello, I am Hruugen and yes I am the Guardian of the Lightstone. The pleasure is mine Lyta, Solomon spoke well of you."
His thin lips smiles and his dark eyes closed into his smile. Suddenly he became aware that he was armed. It seemed not the custom to carry weapons in the cities. He would need to be more careful in future.


Lyta

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A sound came from Hazanko's throat. Low as a flat stone, come sail to the bottom of a well, full of understanding. He inclined his head, as his lips curled at the corners with some amusement.

Until he felt her eyes pin him with the depth of their stare. Timeless and knowing. Like the stars that burned above.

"Tea," he said with a measured shift of his gaze, and the mirrors of his mask turned and pointed their glitter and gleam to those about them. "Is a fine thing, whether brewed from leaf or spilled from lips," His eyes rose up from behind the shadows of his mask. "Often, it is only a matter of finding the sort that suits ones palette." the words hung between them.

"You've an eye for detail," he said with a hint of far away pride.

"Beyond the great Steppes,
and long across the blue sea,
a golden turtle,
upon its shell,
Aetochi,"
he spoke the poem in a measured rhythm.
​

A beat of silence. "Your eyes seem the sort that have seen much more than fashionable masks," he wore a catlike smile. "As if they can see the stirrings of the heavens themselves,"

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

"Look at you, participating and everything. Brings a tear to my eyes."

"Oh, I intend to make those tears pour." He grumbled, shrugging off his twin brother and looking to see where Lyta had gone. Her brother stood alone, greeting other partygoers, and after scanning the sea of colour and grandeur, he knew that the dreamer was lost in the crowd.

"Great." He sighed, looking at Malik. "We may as well go find a drink that isn't the wine." A good ale, something to wash the bitterness he could taste.

The Vanguard soldier clapped his hand on the back of his brother before steering the charmer to where he had spotted a cart sporting several barrels to serve. "I thought you were stationed near the port. What are you doing in Old Town?" Mik cut a sidelong glance at Malik.

 

[Kaira Yehven]

A mixture of wickedness and glee lit up her dark hazel eyes, which seemed to look more green behind the golden sheen of her simple mask.

"Pleasure is mine, Cynthia." Kaira glanced to the she-orc, smiling pleasantly. "I can imagine all the awful things said about me if this fine gentleman is your only source of information."

Her eyes softened as they now look to Mabbon, the smile still with presence on her facade. "You have quite the eye, Guardian Dreierg. The First Guardian of Faith, Descended from the Ancient that created the Faith we practice today. Aevia Bedivere was a great beauty, and her appointment as Guardian saw many Valenntenians flock to her..." Kaira's cheeks burned, only partially noticeable beneath her mask. Oh, crickets. Did she sound as if she saw herself just like the First Faith Guardian?

"I, of course, was inspired for the costume after we both toured the new collection on exhibition at the Gallery Hall..." Crickets. Her cheeks! How warm they turned! "You know... because I am..." She exhaled softly, laughing nervously, "a Guardian of Faith, too." She winced.

"Shall we go find a drink?" Kaira wiped her hands at her satin skirts, smoothing them and her nerves.

Mabbon Dreierg

 

[Konstantin]

Smart suit. Nice coat. Dress shirt. And of course, the pièce de résistance, the mask Konstantin had commissioned some time ago for just such an event. A lovely bit of artifice, the mask hid Konstantin's good eye in shadow, while the glow from the anomaly behind his face lit the other socket. On top of that it was enchanted with a glamor that hid the scars and cracks that were so indicative of his usual appearance.

Ordinarily Konstantin preferred a nice, peaceful night in to a high energy party, but the life of a Guardian was sacrifice and duty. Part of that duty was to be seen, and to assure the public that the symbol of power was alive and well. Besides, he didn't mind attending. It would be a good opportunity to catch up with familiar faces and meet with new ones. The latter was more likely of course, given the whole masquerade aspect, but that was more than alright.

Before anything else, getting some food and drink was top priority. The Valenn Festival's wine and dining was traditionally excellent, and Konstantin believed this year would be no different. After that he'd have to go looking for Stella. Had she been in her dragon form she'd have been easy to pick out...so she was either not here, or she'd taken one of her alternate forms. Either way, locating her would be no easy task. Mingling in the meantime would do nicely.

Konstantin wondered whom he might speak with first, the woman in red asking a server about wine, or the man in the blindfold perusing the food. As ever, the universe would likely decide for him. He needed only let it guide him.

Lale Carvyre, Boesarius Terral

 

[Akiza]

So many masks. In a way, it was refreshing to see people wear them on the outside—herself included. Akiza often amused herself with a particular thought: that, outside of years, there existed another way to measure the length of one's life, and that was by just how many lies spoken and secrets kept one had thus far accumulated. Something of a rough measure, for sure, but its accuracy also depended on how you defined living.

Now at the Tower Courtyard, what would soon be the beating heart of the night's celebrations, Akiza's fashionable wear melded seamlessly with the others on display. All of it spoke to wealth, and Akiza hadn't minded spending what money she had on a outfit she would by tomorrow discard—that money wasn't hers to begin with. Oops. Add that to the roster of secrets. Certainly there were more than a few people in Valenntenia, and its surrounding territories, who had woken up with an inexplicable soreness in their neck and a few coins short in their storage. They called themselves "Descendants", the locals did, but to Akiza, their blood didn't taste any different than the blood of other humans. What a disappointment, she had often thought with a wry smile.

Tonight, though, there would be no drinking of blood. Wine, rather. A pity, yes, that it would do nothing for her mind, and that she would be unable to digest it, therefore necessitating her vomiting it up later. Its taste would be distant, and nowhere near as euphoric of that of blood, but its actual taste she cared little about. It would be a taste to remind her of different days. Yes, different days.

Silently she glided through the swelling crowd of masked revelers, heading for the selection of wines at one of the tables.

 

[Nacht]

Nacht checked his pockets, finding a few silver left. Nothing impressive, but enough. Looking around, he would spy a table with cards on it. Ooh, a game didn't sound terrible in the midst of such a high activity party. However, he knew enough about the world to realize that the man currently shuffling the cards in an intricate hand movement was a person that played for money. Nacht set aside three silver and took his other three, finding a seat. He normally wouldn't do this, but today was a day of celebration. He could afford to try something potentially financially damaging, pardon the pun. "Is this enough?" he'd ask with a grin from beneath his cat mask and realize he was already failing at his task. "Is this enough?" he would try again, his voice lower and deeper and less excited.

A nod later, and he was placated. Yes, this would be his voice for the night, the voice of Nathaniel...Nathaniel What? If anyone asked his name, he would definitely need a middle and last to sound extra professional. Hmm, now here was a conundrum. Suddenly, a bolt of inspiration! Shade was back at home, but that didn't mean she had to be gone. Thusly, he became Nathaniel-Something-Shade. Well, that was definitely progress. Actually, did he need a middle name? People didn't usually introduce themselves and use their middle name, so perhaps there was less work to be done than he had originally thought. "Nathaniel Shade..." he muttered, testing the name in his mouth. It felt fine, if a bit fake. Well, it would have to do. "Pardon me, you were saying something?" the card-man asked, looking over at him.

"Oh, only thinking! I'm Nathaniel Shade, at your service. Your name is?" he managed to improv, a bit shocked he had been talked to first. That didn't normally happen too much. "Anthony Revess, Dealer. Good to meet you." the card man, or Anthony now, would respond, his voice a bit nervous. "That trick you're doing with the cards is neat. What is it?" Anthony's features visibly changed at this question, the eyes behind his mask almost becoming brighter. They were in his area of expertise at this point, after all. "Interesting, huh? This is called a Riffle Shuffle, it's a pretty common one. It could be more theatrical, but that's generally frowned upon," he stated, happy to share what he had learned. "Where are you from, Nathaniel?" Anthony would ask, a bit curious now.

Nacht looked around and found a few new people had joined them at their table, each looking at each other and himself nervously. Well, that made sense. There was actual money on this somewhat simple game of "Poker" or whatever it was called, and nobody liked losing capital to something like that, he figured. "I'm from the Valen Wilds, hailing from a town called..." Suddenly, he realized his grasp on geography was not strong enough to bullshit this. "...Astenvale", he conceded, sighing. The point of Nathaniel was to use the anonymity of the mask to become a different person for a day, so having to stick with the facts was a bit unfortunate. "It was a bit of a trip but so far the time spent coming here has been made up, happily." Nacht said, smiling a bit.

"Neat! Well, one more person and then we can start, sir." Anthony replied, going back to shuffling to pass the time. Nacht sat back and then began to get a weird feeling, like he was forgetting something. Oh, yes, it was quite an important thing he had forgotten: Having never gambled before, he knew next to nothing about how to play the type of game that would likely be presented.

(Gambling, anyone?)

 

[Stella]

Stella would not say she had ever discovered a brand of gossip she liked to endure, though that did not necessarily translate to finding some gossip without use or relevance. It was less the idea of it and more the necessity of socializing that put her off - a chronic conditioning toward a secluded and solitary life, held in any form she took. Pretending to be human did not a chatty dragon make.

Though she would not have run into this man if she had chosen to remain within her study, and if Stella enjoyed anything more than learning about foreign lands, it was reliving them through her own memories. How quickly those memories came to the forefront of her mind. An age spent among the serene lands of Aetochi, its mental portrait brought to life by such simple words in a poem. Upon the back of a turtle, indeed.

"Hm," said the woman in reply, head tilting in measurable interest.

"Your eyes seem the sort that have seen much more than fashionable masks," he wore a catlike smile. "As if they can see the stirrings of the heavens themselves,"

His secret smile eluded her such that empathy was not one of her skills. Even still, the woman's silver brows arched in diffident prudence not to age herself so readily by speaking freely. "I do not concern myself with the heavens," Stella primly clasped her delicate hands at her front, fingers woven together as if to hold her story within, "but I did concern myself with the tea of your lands," and her eyes that had seen far more than fashionable masks looked the man over, "it, among other things, I was quite fond of. The ceremony of tea in these lands pales in comparison, but I would treat a man to our best if he would treat me to his."

Yes, that variety of tea quite interested her.

Hazanko Miya

 

[Solomon Regis]

In that moment, when the fountain glowed violet and the gates opened, Solomon's worries, aches, and regrets were dispelled in the blink of an eye. Yes, the year had been incredibly difficult on all of them here in Valenntenia. There was loss, conflict, friction between opposing sides and even more dangers that yet lay unseen. Try as he might, he could never pretend that the city he loved was not in a precarious and vital period of its existence.

But, as those gates opened in the distance and Solomon witnessed the sheer size of the crowd that was arriving to the Dance, as the doors of every home swung open and poured colorful masks and outfits onto the streets, what else could he do but smile? Valenntenia struggled, but it was far from dead. And tonight? Tonight it may well have been the liveliest place in all of Arethil.

Bringing a hand up and over his chest, Solomon speaks a silent prayer of thanks to the Ancients.

"Well..." Solomon sighed contentedly over to the Somner still standing beside him. "There's no point in the two of us standing here like lost children. Go, have some fun. I think the marchers are preparing, and I'm sure you have time before many folk make it all the way up here." Solomon wouldn't need the aid of any somners until more partygoers made it to the tower, and The Absalon figured it would take quite a while, with all the commotion below. That was fine, though. This festival was about enjoying oneself and making connections, and that was best done without a hand forcing you on a set path.

The Somner beamed from behind his mask, and bowed deeply to Solomon before scampering off down the hilly path into town. Right behind him, a row of masked folk from the Old Town House of Blessings wielding brass horns followed. Usually, they played amusing renditions of hymns and Descendant holy songs, but they'd offered to expand their library a bit for the night, to bring even more music to the streets.

"I suppose I too should stop loafing about..." Solomon spoke with a grin as he noticed the first group of arrivals to the Tower, both men and women. The first fellow (Boesarius Terral) was clad in a pristine black robe, with a blindfold wrapped around his head to cover his eyes. Solomon chuckled, noting the ser looked almost the opposite of him, in terms of outfit. Hopefully his demeanor didn't match his dark attire. He seemed more interested in the food than anything else at the moment, regardless. Not long after him was a woman of slender stature(Akiza), draped in the most immaculate blue and gold ensemble he'd seen in some time. The deep colors she wore contrasted brilliantly with her pale flesh, and she stood out even amongst the beauty of Lale Carvyre, who unsurprisingly ignored him and headed straight for the wines.

Despite all of their issues, Solomon was glad she was here. That she may find the smallest sliver of happiness brought a warmth to his heart.

Konstantine had made it as well! Solomon knew that the Valenn Festival was difficult for the Power Guardian, since the loss of his lover, whom he'd attended this very festival with in the past, if he recalled correctly. Still, to see him wear his finest smile and present himself to the masses as the beacon of hope that he so proudly was warmed Regis' heart. The man was like a second son to the Absalon, though he'd never embarrass him by saying it.

The last arrival was a young, energetic looking fellow in a slick black suit and a cat-eared mask, (Nacht) eagerly looking around the courtyard with a drink already in his hand. Well, The Absalon couldn't fault him for diving in headfirst, could he? Youth drives such a zest for life, It was enough to make an old man reminisce. His own first Masquerade had ended in his first kiss, the very same year he enlisted in the Vanguard. It seemed only yesterday...

No, enough of that. Solomon put some pep in his step as he briskly walked around the fountain towards the gathering group in the Courtyard. He wouldn't be much of a host if he didn't greet them, would he? "Hello hello, everyone! Welcome to Valenntenia, those travelling from abroad. Ser Konstantine, Lady Carvyre, welcome home!" Solomon's booming voice came in handy when it came to being heard over the music that played through the courtyard. "I trust our city has treated you well tonight? Those of you unfamiliar with me; I am Solomon Regis, The Absalon and Leader of Valenntenia. You do me an honor with your presence, and if there is anything at all that I can assist you with, I do insist you request it of me."

Tonight was about them, the people. It was about the connections all living beings share, and the wonder that comes from those bonds. If even one of these people met another that could change their lives and make their journey through this wondrous gift of life even a little bit brighter, than The Valenn Festival had done its job, and Solomon would be proud of his people and his City.

 

[Lale Carvyre]

Konstantine?

Lale whipped her head around to survey the area, hoping to catch sight of the Guardian of Power. Introductions only, no need to pale the evening with her talks of change for the Valenntenia they all served.

Slate grey eyes caught sight of a fine dressed male, and of course there was no short of that this night, but it was the curiosity of his mask that clued Lale to figure it was indeed the Guardian.

"Guardian Clay?" She asked upon approach, weaving between guests. A smile easy on her lips as if she had practice many times to disarm anyone with a kindness. "Allow me to introduce myself." She had learned that the Guardians that traveled from Valenntenia could be so out of touch, like Guardian Bohnes of the Disease Stone. "Lale Carvyre. An honour to meet the Guardian of the Power Stone."

It was like a Carvyre to speak slightly louder, to garner attention to themselves when they spoke in public. It was all for show of course, but it was best the Guardians started to put a face to the name... her mask did little to hide her facade.

Konstantin

 

[Ethir]

Ethir was actually excited for this masquerade- it meant dressing up and hiding your face, which Ethir was glad for. Her earlier wish to not spend all of Quacey's money before they even got to his house had been put to the side when she had been shopping for costumes.

They had heard about a masquerade being hosted by Valentennia, open to anyone from anywhere, and both of them had been interested, so they had ventured a little ways off their path into the city. Vendors were selling costume and masks of all sorts, and when Ethir had seen the white swan mask she now wore, she decided she really wanted to go to this masquerade.

She had thought Quacey would have said no, they didn't have time to go, it was a waste of his money, but he had bought the mask and dress she had picked out, and bought his own mask and costume, and now the two were walking the streets of Valentennia, towards the courtyard around the tower that the city seemed to be centered around. Perhaps he had conceded with the idea that interacting with people and making her own choices would help her, but a vague part of her mind wondered if wearing a mask and pretending to be something she wasn't counted. She didn't mention it though. It was a freeing feeling to have others' gazes linger not with disgust or pity but with awe and joy.

Quacey

 

[Villam Regis]

Was that nervousness she detected upon his aspect? He called her lovely, kissed her hand, and bowed, his charming, chivalrous actions hiding what she thought might be nervous excitement. Vazia was vaguely relieved at it; at least she wasn't alone.

She considered falling back into their easy, comfortable back and forth banter, but found she was rather at a loss for words. This night required a bit of seriousness, anyway. But when had she ever not been serious? This night was indeed a night of many firsts.

"Yes," was her only, short answer, her gaze never leaving Villam's, her hand not falling from his. She could have said something more elegant or poetic, met his flattery with some of her own, but she felt it would not have been true to herself or how she felt in that moment. Feeling- Vazia almost could not believe it. A thrill of fear tempered by excitement ran through her at the thought. Perhaps distance from her stone would be in fact beneficial.

Villam Regis

To fall into their normal way of speaking with one another would have been the safe option. It would have made this simple and sterile. Villam too considered retreating back into that shell, speaking to her the only way that he knew how.

It wouldn't be genuine. Tonight was meant to be more, meant to be meaningful. Tonight they were not simply Villam and Vazia. Tonight, they were behind masks, and clad in the finest of apparel. Tonight, they were a pair. Even if it only lasted until dawn, Villam wished to treat her as such.

"Thank you, Vazia." He spoke softly, turning to offer his arm for her to loop her own into. "Come, let's head for the Courtyard."

It was an experience so odd that it bordered on the surreal, walking arm in arm with Vazia. A woman who'd once been little more than a comrade was now making him feel so strangely, bringing sensations to his chest that he'd never felt before. It felt like worry, but mixed with anticipation, and a dose of anxiety to go with it. Regis had no idea what the feeling was, all that he knew was that every time she looked over at him, it got worse.

"I've... been looking forward to tonight."

Vazia Ferreira

 

[Vazia Ferreira]

Vazia looped her arm through his and walked with him towards the courtyard, where the main celebrations were to be held. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him this close to him, as if the flames he wore were real.

For a few minutes Vazia was sure she was hallucinating this, that the void was playing tricks on her mind; but no, Villam was very much real beside her, his arm solid against hers. When he spoke, she was finally certain it was real.

She looked up at him, mildly surprised. So then was his nervousness excitement instead? Or rather was it both?

"Me too," she replied, returning her gaze ahead once more. Since he had asked her at Carvyre's 'party', she had been unable to stop thinking about Villam or his offer unless she had her stone gripped tight in her hand. Only when she was alone had she dared to set her stone down and let her mind awaken, in a way it hadn't truly done since Homecoming.

Better to have thoughts of Villam, even if they were anxious, than to have screams painted red dancing through her memories.

Villam Regis

 

[Boesarius Terral]

Boesarius glanced toward the elder who stood now in front of the fountain. Solomon Regis. The Absalon, so he introduced himself. His name and title had preceded him about Valenntenia at large, heard seldomly in those occasions conducive to its mentioning. Not that Boesarius could truly put a name to a face, the masquerade being what it is, but nonetheless had the Absalon's presence been seen and noted.

Boesarius smirked slightly to himself. If there is anything at all that I can assist you with, I do insist you request it of me. No, Absalon, there is nothing at all with which you could assist, and you would be a fool to insist. Curites never parted with their sinful power willingly.

But Boesarius wasn't here to correct the Valenntenians. Shame though it was, he would merely have to trust that they, like all Curites, would bring about their own ruination in time.

He moved from the cuisine table at which he stood over to another table, this one, like many others, stocked with the array of wines brought out for the Festival. Boesarius cared little for the distinction of this type of wine or that. He merely reached for the first one available, closest to him—

And his hand touched the hand of another.

 

[Akiza]

Akiza started slightly when she, by accident, touched the hand of another party-goer. Both he and she had reached for the same bottle of wine. She pulled her hand back. They looked at each other, Akiza and the man in black.

"My apologies," she said. "I should be more careful."

The man in black smiled faintly. "It's nothing."

Akiza politely smiled back. "Would you...like to open this bottle of wine for us?"

 

[Noi]

“She’s just staring at the wall. It’s weird.”

“I think the weirdest thing is her being in Valenntenia. The last three before her always made sure to leave.”

“What’s weird is how we’re just watching her. C’mon, let’s go. Sylvia’s gonna lose it when we’re late again.”

As the trio of young women went off to find their friend, Noi stood where she was, staring at the gray stone. Or rather, it was in between the cracks of this stone and the others surrounding it that she was looking out. She could see the many, many eyes peering out from the shadows towards her.

Sneaky little spies. She stared right back at them. They blinked and she blinked back at them, communicating with the vibrations they offered to her.

Hello, Noi. The eyes said. Noi touched the small shadows around the stone, feeling round and taut clusters like fish eggs beneath her fingers. She wanted to squeeze and pop them as if they were inflamed pimples on a teenager’s cheeks.

Hello, Eyes. Noi replied, mouth and lips remaining still.

Do you want to know a secret? The eyes vibrated, blinking and shivering.

I like secrets.

Do you like big secrets? They asked. Noi took a few seconds to consider this question. She liked big secrets. Sometimes she liked little secrets though. Short secrets, long secrets, known secrets, forgotten secrets. All sorts and manners of secrets, but her favorite secrets were the truthful ones. Unbiased and unblemished by time and ego.

We have a secret, Noi. A big secret. We’ll show you but first you must find something sharp. You’re going to need it.

Like a needle? Noi had pinned three broaches to the sleeve of her dress. She knew it was supposed to be along her chest, but then how could she look at them and admire them? On her sleeve allowed her to appreciate their sparkling beauty (not that they were made of jewels or even gold or silver; they were nothing more than broken glass and oily ceramic.)

Like a knife. The eyes confirmed and Noi nodded in understanding. Something small for you to hide in your sleeves. The eyes disappeared as a shadow behind Noi grew. She turned around, seeing a somner behind her, concern in their features.

They tried signing something to her, but Noi shook her head. She smiled and waved good bye before walking out from her little secret meeting and into the crowd. The Somner didn’t have a knife. Who would?

 

[Konstantin]

Konstantin waved to the Absolon, and indeed to the several party patrons whose attention he'd caught via the mention of his name. He supposed even when under a guise his appearance didn't diverge that much from his usual one. Still, he smiled warmly to both Solomon and those around him who suddenly wanted to greet the Guardian of Power. He took it all in stride.

Of course, there was one presence that made itself--herself--known far more strongly than the others that had tried to crowd around. So this was the illustrious Lale. If the stories were to be believed the fox mask was rather...on the nose. But then, her family did breed the critters.

"Lady Carvyre..." Konstantin greeted her, taking her hand and dipping into a deep bow. "An honor to make your acquaintance as well. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

He was cordial enough, but quietly guarded all the same. He had heard the woman was rather opinionated and didn't wish to offer her any extra ammunition.

 

[Malik]

Malik looked at his brother's sour face, his own lips still parted in a smile of greeting. "Gee, good to see you too brother. What crawled up your ass and died?" He let Mikko steer him around, returning his glance with raised eyebrows. "Well, one can't miss the festival of love. I pardoned myself from patrol for the day to exploit the opportunity to meet girls."

Malik shrugged as the approached a cart of barrels, offering coin for a mug for both lads. Malik was anything if honest, at least when it came to his twin. Not that he could keep much from him, they always knew when something was up with the other it seemed. "Seriously though, it's a festival, what's your deal? Smile a little."

Mikko Cendrillon

 

[Alaric Wulf]

Saskia pulled Roki along, trapping both of them in her grasp. She was finally getting excited, despite her earlier trepidation. Good. He walked beside her quietly, letting her turn and twist them through the crowd as her eyes lit up the world. The only thing that captured his attention in terms of beauty was the girl next to him. Something he could probably never admit to her.

"Of course you'd go for something sweet. Just don't throw it at me this time." He gave her a grin, watching both his friends partake, waving away the vendor as he was offered. No, he couldn't stomach anything at the moment. Instead he would enjoy her enjoyment. Seeing Roki try the rind did make him chuckle, however. "Well, at least you know, for experience sake. Do you think those would only grow here?" He was echoing Roki's thoughts, though his thoughts were directed more towards the green thumbed (literally and figuratively) Oliver.

Roki Saskia Kerraelas

 

[Saskia Kerraelas]

Saskia grinned at Alaric in a way that conveyed she would not keep a promise, even when she lifted a hand and circled a halo above her head.

"Well, we should make our way up there. I think there the party will be. We can think on the other stuff tomorrow when we have the day to prepare for the trek back to Astenvale. I am not going to be denied watching the pretty dancers because you two are pondering."

The Dusker purchased another lemon treat for herself and another for Roki, who made the rind look as if it were an interesting exploration of bad taste. "Do not eat the rind this time." She warned, brow lifting as if to appear stern, but her grin was wicked.

"Come on, my moon." Saskia held out her hand to Alaric, but would then also loop her arm through Roki's to drag him along towards the Tower. Impressive view, especially when she could see others making their way to the courtyard.

Alaric Wulf
Roki