Open Chronicles The Valenntenian Masquerade Festival

[Roki]

There sure was a lot to see. The shows of magick, the flash and dazzle of skirts and robs and glittering jewels. It all set his mouth to grin. His cheeks to ache, as his heart swelled with the currents of so much feel-

A coldness struck him. A hand reached out and grabbed at him. Fingers, long and thin as knives clutched round the base of his spine.

Stabbed him to still.

Warmth. Joy. Sound. Bled away. Drained behind him. He turned. Saw the hand reach out. Take hold of his staff as he drew his breath in. Set his feet flat beneath him as fingers spread and held firm the staff.

Tug. Tug.

Neither budged. From behind the red monkey mask, Golden eyes stared at the Silver-grey's of the fox.

The lantern, red paper and bold as it glowed, that dangled from the head of his staff stirred as the air betwixt the two beasts stared each other down.

Breath, after steady breath. The red monkey cocked its head in confusion. "You're a strong one," Roki said with a grin that showed as bright glint in his eyes.

Noi

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A journey, across guarded corridors and up secreted stairwells. Each steady step chimed clear with the ring of his silver bells, and shone with the array of mirrored lights, that did flicker and bounce across the stones that took them further and further from the noise of the clamoring crowds, while the wail of instruments gay and bright, turned faint as sun, filtered through blossoms and leaves.

Softer.

There amidst their shared loneliness.

Anything more for you, Sir?

Hazanko gave a singular nod. "A second pot of boiled water, red clay, if you have it," he took the seat across from the Lady Wisdom, the curl of his lips, as thin as a blade of grass, confident as it grew out towards the sun.

"I will see to it," the attendant intoned, bowed, and was a way.


A moment seemed to bleed between them, and the ghost of the nearby revelry went on, a thrum throughout the room. "My Lady Wisdom," the dragon masked associate repeated. A tone full of knowing.

 

[Stella]

"Yes, that is I," she replied, boredom slipping into her tone, "event etiquette would demand that title remain behind sealed lips, but societal protocol exists in opposition."

Hired help not addressing the Guardians with their honorary title? Grounds for expulsion from their position within the tower. Not that Stella required titles - things of mortals, of ground dwellers - she had never seen the need and rarely used them herself with others unless that same social protocol arose.

"You need not bother using it. Please address me as Stella. Now..." as if that had all been quite decided, Stella smoothed the lengths of her gown over her lap primly and fixed her masked friend with a canted stare, "as I have been unmasked, it would seem only polite for you to do the same."

 

[Quacey]

The large crowd was indeed a bit overwhelming for one use to traversing the dark places of the world and the isolated peace of a mountain home. The most excitement Quacey was use to wading through was the tourneys and competitions commonly held by his own people. But they held a vastly different feeling and energy about them to the affairs of mortals such as this.

While shy, his spirit was still high and feeling a tad mischievous. "Worried I might be snatched away? Do not fear. You simply have to embrace being a swan and gracefully war against any who gets near."

A bit of a smirk upon his lips followed. He drank his own glass but was beginning to wonder what they should do next. Wandering the festival and taking in the sights would do for only so long. It would be a waste not to partake a bit more directly in it. And he doubted his companion wished to do nothing more than watch those gathered as he would if alone.

Ethir

 

[Hazanko Miya]

His smile stayed sharp. Springful. "One mask for another then," he said as he leaned his head forward.

The bells shift with their uniform chime. Crisp as a breeze. And he pulled the dragon's head away from his own visage. Set it down, careful, that nary a sound came from the strings of silver rounds that were strung from the ghostly maw, and its many mirrors.

Like a beast slain, the mask sat atop the table between them, and Hazanko rose, his own scarred skin bared before the Lady of Wisdom.

"Stella," he said with a tenderness to it, not unlike the warm glow that shone across morning mists, come the first rays of day's light. "Have you heard of the Poet, Xuande Tong?"

 

[Stella]

Mirrors exchanged for scars that glimmered like silver veins deep beneath the earth. Stella had seen those veins with her own eyes, burrowing down into the heart of a mountain. To her own eyes, beholden of the innate magic within her blood, they appeared with a faint glow of ether and she smiled in the way one smiled in face of a favored tea cup freshly chipped.

How the scars of Aetochi still haunted her to this day. Was that irony?

The way her name sounded within the thrum of that northern accent brought a chill of remembrance over her scalp that played the years of her past life spent there before her mind's eye. No detail forgotten or spared.

"Have you heard of the Poet, Xuande Tong?"

"Nobody knows I am a storm,
I am dawn on the mountain,
Twilight on the sea."

​

Why yes, she did know of the Poet, Xuande Tong.

 

[Ethir]

The large crowd was indeed a bit overwhelming for one use to traversing the dark places of the world and the isolated peace of a mountain home. The most excitement Quacey was use to wading through was the tourneys and competitions commonly held by his own people. But they held a vastly different feeling and energy about them to the affairs of mortals such as this.

While shy, his spirit was still high and feeling a tad mischievous. "Worried I might be snatched away? Do not fear. You simply have to embrace being a swan and gracefully war against any who gets near."

A bit of a smirk upon his lips followed. He drank his own glass but was beginning to wonder what they should do next. Wandering the festival and taking in the sights would do for only so long. It would be a waste not to partake a bit more directly in it. And he doubted his companion wished to do nothing more than watch those gathered as he would if alone.

Ethir

Ethir's green eyes glinted behind her white mask. "Maybe I will," she said.

She raised her glass to her lips but a swirl of naseua overtook her and she set it down by the table they were still standing nearby.

She was silent for a moment until she didn't feel as if she was going to throw up.

"Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" she said, once more looking up at Quacey. Nearly everyone was dancing or drinking, and Ethir didn't care to drink anymore right now, so they might as well dance. She hadn't worn this swan costume for nothing.

 

[Hazanko Miya]

Twas in the eyes. How they hungered with a star's luminance. Curios as they burned so clear across all the veils between breaths.

Truth, spun from the ash of boundless mysteries.

"I am cool winds,
Come across proud wheat,
Moth's wings against blue sky,"
​

He went on, and did not let his eyes falter,

"And there the fire sits,
Warm despite me,"

​

 

[Villam Regis]

Both Villam and Vazia were held under the curse of the stones they bore; Villam was damned to only be seen in a positive light, to be looked at with awe and fascination through the eyes of those with lingering passions brought to the surface by his Rune.

Vazia was buried deep beneath her own magic, the woman she'd once been wrapped tightly in a chrysalis of Void that hid every ounce of humanity inside of her. Nobody looked at her with wonder or awe. Instead, they saw only an empty husk of a woman, and turned their heads.

Over the course of the last few weeks, both of them had begun to break the other's spell. Vazia did not see Villam through the lens of his Rune, did not revere him merely because the magic that surrounded him told her that he should. She saw him for who he was, spoke to him as an equal, and nothing more.

Villam had begun to peel back that shell that covered Vazia, peeking through the surface to bear witness to that woman whom had been hiding from the world for so long. He did not run from her, did not balk at her lack of emotion. Instead, he embraced her and accepted her.

His eyes sank into the blue orbs, the gaze of the woman he'd so briefly met at Homecoming. He'd known she was there all along, knew that she heard every word he spoke, even if the Void Guardian surrounding her pretended she did not. As Villam's thumb traced gentle lines across Vazia's cheek, he rested his brow against her own once more, and reveled in the lingering heat her lips had left against his own.

"I know." He replied softly to her plea, her longing call of his name spoke gently into the space between them. "Just... be with me tonight. Anything else, the worry, the battles, the pain... it can come tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to myself."

Vazia Ferreira

 

[Vazia Ferreira]

How had they gotten here? From no more than passing glances to a passionate embrace and life-changing words? Vazia was afraid to think about it for too long, for fear that Villam would slip away from her.

She had been without her stone for the majority of the day today, and yet there was no sign of an episode like the one she'd had the night of Homecoming. Was it her closer proximity to her stone? Or was it Villam, holding her together in a way the stone had never been able to?

Barely realizing she was doing it, she moved her hands from his shoulders to the nape of his neck; as he rested his forehead on hers, his fingers feather-light across her cheek.

The words he spoke felt both real and impossible. How could any of this be happening to her? And yet she was certain of his body against hers, his hand on her cheek, and his other hand still at her waist.

She was weak in his arms, his words tempting her. Tempting her to lift her chin to meet his mouth with hers. She kissed him for the third time, perhaps not as gentle as he had kissed her.

"You have me," she murmured against his mouth, the words barely audible.

Villam Regis

 

[Noi]

Noi blinked up at the monkey. Vibrant and dazzling was his costume, well put together with small details creating a bigger picture. She was certain the colors were done on purpose because everyone knew that yellow and red monkeys looked more like a faded orange or just a brighter sort of brown. Except those red faced monkeys that Guardian Koifka had been fond of, those were a bright red but only on their face.

This monkey was more yellow in front of her.

Knife.

Noi tilted her head as Yellow Monkey spoke. She moved her hand up, the the side of her hand now touching the side of his. There was still a sense of intention left in his mind from the words he spoke that she couldn’t hear. Seamlessly, she invaded his mind, even if she hadn’t asked permission first. She’d apologize later. After all, Noi was strong! She had begun doing push ups and lifting rocks above her head and sometimes she ran in a straight line for no reason at all. One hand went into a pocket, clinking and clanking could be heard as she rifled through her belongings.

When she held up her hand for Yellow Monkey there were shiny bottle caps and seeds and nuts and a red centipede.

[Trade?]

Roki

 

[Stella]

Twas in the eyes. How they hungered with a star's luminance. Curios as they burned so clear across all the veils between breaths.

Truth, spun from the ash of boundless mysteries.

"I am cool winds,
Come across proud wheat,
Moth's wings against blue sky,"
​

He went on, and did not let his eyes falter,

"And there the fire sits,
Warm despite me,"

​

Hm. It had been some time since she'd shared intellectual exchange of culture with another. Longer still with one from a land, people, and history she was intimately familiar with. A strange sensation settled into her chest, at once warm and yet sparking for something once loved and then lost.

Nostalgia.

Regret?

Stella's gaze maintained his own, though grew unfocused behind the fog of memory.

"The sound of waves,
once distant, now close,
How much of my life remains?"

"The mists of evening,
when I think of them, far off,
are days of long ago."​

 

[Villam Regis]

Vazia sought his lips out this time, the first time she'd ever been the one to reach out and act on these feelings that hung between them. As hushed words passed her lips into his, Villam found that the path they'd taken to arrive at this point was no longer important.

They were here now, and the burning passion that barely contained itself within Ferreira's muttered words was only returned twofold as Villam sank into her again, allowing his emotions, his needs to take him where he'd dared not go moments earlier.

Villam's hands held her close, the fingers that had so gently ran across her cheek now slid down the ridges of her dress until it reached the small of her back and pulled her in closer against his body. The sullen hazel eyes that gazed down at her now slid shut as her lips danced with his, without the hesitation and fear that their feet had displayed with theirs.

He no longer cared about this festival, the dancing or the music... What mattered was the person in front of him, this secluded pavilion, in holding her in his arms for as long as she'd allow him to. Whatever this was that he felt, whatever this burning in his gut was, he didn't want it to end. He would cling to it, cling to her, for as long as possible.

"And you have me." Villam replied through rushed breaths, between hurried meetings of their lips, the words nearly reduced to an obstacle to cross before he could be where he wished to most. His body felt nearly as hot as the fire his costume embodied, but it was not true heat, not born of the sun or of fire itself. No, this heat was one Villam was all too familiar with, returning to him in a most unusual way.

Passion. The Guardian of Passion felt his namesake for another. For one specific person. And Gods above, he wished to show it.

Vazia Ferreira

 

[Konstantin]

Another voice caught Konstantin's attention, this time a much friendlier one: the illustrious Guardian of Faith. Konstantin smiled, a warm and friendly one that stood in stark contrast to the somewhat menacing look of his mask. He turned a bit more and regarded the half-orc Guardian of Darkness as well.

"Good evening, Miss Kaira, Sir Mabbon," he greeted the two of them with a polite bow of his head. "You have my thanks. It was a gift from Guardian Minerva. Your dress is quite splendid as well, might I say. And Sir Mabbon, you must tell me where you acquired that outfit; it looks quite comfortable!"

The Guardian of Power sipped from his glass, this time socially rather than out of irritation.
"Enjoying the evening thus far?"

 

[Vazia Ferreira]

Vazia fell into Villam as he returned her kiss with passion he was famous for. It was easier to forget the Void when he kissed her and held her like this. The music from the Tower Courtyard above faded away as Villam pulled her ever closer. There was no nervousness now, from either of them, and if Vazia was in any state of mind to form coherent thoughts, she would have wondered at the ease with which this passion flowed between them.

She wrapped her arms tighter around him, pushing onto her toes, kissing him as if she was afraid she'd lose him. She felt rather than heard his reply, and a shiver trickled down her spine like ice water, despite the passionate heat of the kiss.

Seconds, minutes, days, years- Vazia wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually she managed to pull away. Her forehead still rested against his, and she was slow to open her eyes, heat still thrumming between the minuscule space between them. She brought one of her hands from his neck to his cheek, her thumb brushing the edge of his mask.

After a moment that lasted forever and felt too short, she would push Villam's mask up onto his head, before removing her own. The cool night air kissed the skin on her face but she much preferred Villam's kisses.

She was silent; afraid that anything she said would break the spell between them.

Villam Regis

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

'Sir? How much have you had to drink, Kon?' Grinning behind his silver-black mask, Mabbon waved the honorific away, made to shake hands with the Guardian of Power, aware of just how strong he was. Not one to care for court etiquette and empty compliments, Mabbon could not help but agree with Kaira; Konstantin's mask really was quite good.

It didn't matter to him the horror the mask hid. Konstantin Clay was a good man... and that was the end of it.

'Thank you, it is!' Comfort was king, after all. 'I cannot speak for the both of us, but, yes, I'm enjoying my evening.' He smirked, shooting a sidelong glance at Kaira. Her angelic half-mask couldn't hide the expression she wore, and Mabbon found himself chuckling slightly as his attention drifted back to Konstantin.

'And you? How's your evening treating you now that the lovely Lady Carvyre has seen fit to depart?'

Kaira Yehven Konstantin

 

[Kaira Yehven]

Kaira's cheeks were soon protesting with all the smiling she was doing. The Guardian of Faith gave a light bow of her head at Kon's compliment of her dress, which she too was happy with. It was quite rare of an occasion where she could wear something so fine and elegant.

"Lady Carvyre is not all that bad." Kaira playfully rolled her eyes at Mabbon, nudging his side with her elbow before looking to the Guardian of Power. "She has been awfully quiet as of late, on that, I can agree it is nice to have no worries of politics overshadowing this night."

She had not told anyone of her conversation with Lale after that night being invited to the Carvyre estate. Kaira knew there were very few people in Valenntenia that would understand the way Lale was.

"Did you know, Mabbon, that our esteemed friend and Guardian here, promised me to tea and combat training... but I seem to not have heard word of when we should do so." Truly, Kaira had not forgotten. What better time to corner the older Guardian and weasel a confirmation in person to do what they had spoken on once before. "I learned a lot with the Vanguard, but don't you think there is always more to learn?" She comfortably looped her arm through Mabbon's, leaning into him.

A delightful grin pulled at her lips, "Besides, I wonder if you know how to wield a scorpion whip sword, Guardian Clay."

Konstantin Mabbon Dreierg

 

[Konstantin]

"You are a Guardian, Mabbon. That title does bring with it some degree of respect..." Konstantin answered, shaking his peer's hand with gusto. Then he upturned his cup, and a single drop ran out of the otherwise empty vessel. "...But perhaps too much given how early we are into the night."

The Guardian of Power considered both Dark and Faith's input on Lale, chuckling as the two spoke of her.
"I am certain that there are some positive facets to Lady Carvyre, but I think I'd prefer not to spend too long trying to find them. That woman is an...acquired taste. I'd say my night is improving quite nicely now that I'm among kinder company."

Kaira's eagerness to train was something that came as a surprise to Konstantin, but not an unwelcome one.
"I seem to recall that conversation having gone very differently, Miss Kaira, but in order: my home is always open to any of my fellow Guardians; I concur, one should never stop learning; and I may have toyed around with one, once or twice."

He couldn't exactly wink from behind the mask, so instead he just offered the girl a playful smirk.

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

The Stone of Darkness stirred. Kinder company? Who does he think he's- 'Seems to me like this is the perfect opportunity for you two to arrange said training, then.' Smirking behind his mask, Mabbon's gaze flitted from Konstantin to Kaira, then back again. 'What you said, about your home always being open to a fellow Guardian... Does that invitation extend to me?'

Tea and training. An afternoon's entertainment. A chance to get to know the man behind the mask.

And Kaira, he thought, unable to keep his eyes off her. Out of all the Guardians, she was one of the few he had yet to see in action. Well, her and Lyta and Noi. That little rascal! 'Maybe I'll learn a thing or two myself, watching you train together.' Mabbon took pride in his abilities, but he wasn't the kind of man to let his ego get the better of him.

'If not...' He smiled, shrugged.

Kaira Yehven Konstantin

 

[Kaira Yehven]

Kaira's smile turned mischievous, but did not agree with Konstantin that her version was lightly adapted for her own sake.

She turned her gaze to Mabbon now, brightening at the idea. "I am sure you would learn something, Mabbon. I only know of the drills I went through with the Vanguard, and how to fight with the weapons that the Yehvens are famous for. Konstantin assures me I have much more to learn." He had been deemed suitable to become the next Guardian of Power, and even if the Stone had taken it's toll on him, she did not doubt Konstantin could fare well in combat.

"With all the talk about the Guardians and the Vanguard... I thought it best to get proper training again. Trying to train with the Vanguard is pointless when their Lieutenants are afraid of dealing a heavy blow against me." The young Guardian smiled at Konstantin, ecstatic that soon enough they can begin. "How about this day next week?"

Konstantin Mabbon Dreierg

 

[Lyta]

One moment, Lyta was slipping through the crowds to fetch herself a drink having just escaped from Lord Elmrose, the next there was a hand on her wrist and she was being pulled back towards the dancefloor. She whirled to face her new captor, readying her practised smile and polite refusal for it to all be dashed. Upon seeing Mikko's grin, her own genuine smile lit up her face in answer. She fell into the steps of the slow waltz so at odds with the faster tempo of the samba then laughed at his bashful declaration.

"It was a valiant effort," she reached up to brush one of the curls from his face with an affectionate smile, blushing at her own boldness. "I did not realise you were coming tonight. I mean... I assumed you might as a guard but I did not think to see you on the dance floor.... not that I'm not pleased! I mean..." Oh darn.

 

[Hazanko Miya]

There was a genuine fondness there, in the gleam that lit the scarred man's eyes. Almost as if he had found a long lost echo. A resonant soul. Familiar, amidst a sea of the unfamiliar.

"Of all the things I thought I would find, amidst such a place," he said, a smile clear as the sun, cresting the horizon. "To hear the Storm's Cloud, spoken so clearly," he gave the slightest turn of his head. "It's almost as if, I were in the tea houses of Sonshan proper," he closed his eyes, and bowed his head, ever so. "You may call me, Hazanko," he rose up again. Smiled. "Stella,"

 

[Roki]

What a curious fox he had found.

She didn't let go of his staff, and neither did he. Each half, an opposite force that pushed at the other's pull, and pulled at the other's push.

Balanced and neutral.

How it made Roki grin wide beneath his red-faced mask, and how it had his periwinkle brows furrow, and his golden eyes gleam with excitement.

Till of course, he felt something press into him.

Sharp and pointed. Like a knife. He could feel it peel away at the skin of his mind's eye. Slice across the lid and show the depth of its sight. His own eyes widened as a cold lightning ran down his spine.

There he was again. Amidst the forest. Before Monk Agata. Noa tall and beautiful. Strong. Sure. Furious. Let him go. The flames. Every color. Soot. Grass. Death.

Knife.

He blinked. Gulped. Hand still firm about his staff, the paper lantern tied there upon the end of the finely hewn shaft a-gentle whirl. Guided by the graceful sway of a carp's current. An apparition. A spirit. Tranquil, as it was strong. Poised, as it was spontaneous.

The red faced monkey looked down at the upturned hand. "For my... staff?" he asked. Unsure what she wanted in return. His head had shook no. "I can't give you my staff," he said, eyes fixed and sure. "But, you want... a knife?" he sussed out.

Somewhere in the pond their minds shared, he could feel that jagged urge. Sharp and cutting. Short enough to hide.

"Why?" his hand would not let go of his staff.

Noi

 

[Konstantin]

Konstantin cocked his head at Mabbon's question before smiling and placing a hand on the man's shoulder.
"I'll say it again, Mabbon: you are a Guardian. I don't care about the nature of your Stone, nor that of your past. The Guardians are family. All of us," he assured the man, removing his grip after a moment. "And you're welcome to try your hand as well, of course. Every one of us can stand to improve in some way. The road to mastery is never ending. It is law."

Speaking of learning, he looked back to Kaira.
"Rest assured that I will still be pulling my punches with you, Miss Kaira. You will learn all the same," he chuckled before nodding his confirmation at the date of their training session. "I will be expecting you."

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

Mikko simply could not do anything but stare down at the Guardian after she brushed a lock of his hair from his face, as if it would have been more obstructing than the simple mask he bought just to have this moment with her. It was a gentle smile he gave her now, her costume the pure manifestation of the nerves and fluttering he could feel in his stomach. "I am on patrol... I asked a favour. One dance, but it seems I didn't pick my moment well enough." He chuckled, stepping away from her to fully take in her costume.

"Gorgeous." The word was spoken before he could even think of something better, more charming to say. "Really, Lyta. I think this is perhaps the best outfit of the evening." For who else was there for him to look at when she walked the streets of Old Town.

"Well it is no waltz, but maybe it's your turn to teach me something, hm?" Mikko turned to look at the other dancing couples, watching how they held their partner and started to attempt to mimic the footwork, albeit at a slower tempo. "I might not be a quick learner like you." The Vanguard grinned down at the blonde in his embrace.

They better get one dance in before Brom dragged him away and back to his post.

Lyta