Open Chronicles The Valenntenian Masquerade Festival

[Noi]

The centipede crawled to the edge of her hand and fell to the ground because it was a bug and had no brain. Noi liked bugs because of this— they were quieter creatures compared to those surrounding her. Noi broke eye contact, looking down to see a bit foot crush the centipede. Bye bye, Roderick the Fifteenth. She knew where the rest of the centipede family was and would pick another to be the lucky Roderick the Sixteenth.

She couldn’t do that now. Eyes were back to the Yellow Monkey With the Red Face. She could feel that he wouldn’t give her his staff, and if that was the case, she had nothing good to trade for a knife. Without a red centipede there was little she could offer now.

[Can you keep a secret?] Noi asked, their shared connection still strong even as she looked down at the shoes he wore. He had nice shoes. Maybe she could convince him to trade that for some nuts and seeds and a bottle cap.

Roki

 

[Lyta]

Lyta could not resist giving a small twirl, butterfly wings shimmering as she did so, under Mikko's appreciative gaze. She had politely thanked every person who had offered her a compliment, yet this was the first one of the evening that had made her blush and tied her stomach in odd knots. She slipped easily into the slowed down version of the dance that Mikko began to attempt, her hands sliding to rest upon his shoulders in the same fashion the other dancers around them did.

"I appear to be teaching a lot of people how to dance tonight, perhaps I should set up a dance school," the Guardian of Dreams laughed causing a few partners to glance in their direction with fond and knowing smiles. Lyta's cheeked warmed but she did not let the glances dampen her mood. "I think Noi might enjoy it, all the tutu's and ribbons she could plait into people's hair...." she continued to muse, casting her mind briefly to the youngest of their Guardians.

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

"Well, I only know the waltz from my sister, and a jig because I once had too much at the tavern and was taught by colleagues. Thankful that no ribbons or tutus were involved then." Mik smiled. Although he wouldn't dream showing Lyta that jig, when he was for certain it was most likely wrong, he wished he could impress her with his knowledge of the waltz.

"When were younger, we took lessons, Malik and I. I am afraid I forgot most of them, especially when our elder brothers were boasting their swordsmanship. I thought that was what I needed to do instead." He stopped himself from drawing up the difference between them, not this night. Mikko told himself if there was a night to make intentions known, it was tonight, when the city was all decorated in all things that celebrated love.

Confidence building, he quickened their paces that seemed to almost match other dancing couples, and never in his life was he glad for the ability of picking up movement fast than he was now.

Lyta

 

[Quacey]

To say his companion had been a bit odd would be a jest. Ethir was rather odd for one of their kind on principle alone. Her life had not been an easy one and she had been forced into a profession not of her choosing. Yet she adapted and survived as best she could. A mark of inner strength that allowed for all oddness she might desire.

What was odd was her reaction to food and drink of late. She swung between treating meals as if they were the most vile trap devised that often enough ended in her throwing up whatever was consumed and having a ravenous hunger that could be sated by no seeming quantity nor quality. The way she abandoned her drink as he sipped on his own was a moment of the former taking place.

Was Ethir well?

Her question took Quacey's mind back to the party and away from their travels. His only answer was to set his near empty glass down and offer her his hand with a slight bow. His head lowered and one foot placed slightly behind him. A courtly request that required no words. He held no doubt she knew his meaning and it was now her turn to respond.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir was good at noticing things, especially about other people, and so she noticed Quacey's confusion (and was that concern?) at her unstable appetite. She as well wondered what was wrong with her, but not for very long, considering Quacey was now offering his hand for the next dance and she was pretty sure she already knew why she felt... unwell.

She took his hand and would let him lead them onto the dance floor proper, just as a new song picked up. It was light and lilting, and Ethir found her grace and agility from her former profession benefited her now as she danced with surprising ease.

Quacey himself had displayed the nobility that ran through his veins before, and he did so once more both in the way he bowed to her before the dance and the way he moved to the music as well. Though this was Ethir's first time dancing, she would guess that it was not Quacey's.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Balls and festivals were a large part of his youth. Quacey was expected to be graceful upon his feet no matter if his hands were wrapped around an opponent or around a partner. Members of the more noble duanann had to be social by nature as well as strong in some field. His mother had expected perfection from him in all areas. A justification for herself about his parentage. He had to become the living proof that her choices were correct and that her family and court were wrong about her.

So Quacey was more familiar with dancing than any mortal present.

...But he was out of practice. His feet held to their grace due to his diligence with martial training but there was always a slight imperfection in rhythm due to his lack of dedication towards this social pursuit.

The large fae did not care. His attention was upon his companion and seeing to it that Ethir learned as they danced. That she enjoy herself and the learning experience rather than worry what some outsider might think of them. Moths were muted creatures for a reason and only made a fuss when they had a bright shining goal to obsess over after all.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir flushed behind her mask as she danced with Quacey. The intensity with which he was looking at her, and the fact that it hid no bad intentions, it astounded Ethir.

She was once more reminded of the pair's size difference, even in Quacey's shortened form. Her hand was swallowed up in his larger one, the breadth of his shoulders very nearly casting her into shadows. She didn't mind though, not entirely. It made it easier for her to follow his lead and minimize the amount of times she stepped on his toes.

Her stomach spun with her as she moved, and her mind was once more brought to her earlier thoughts. She had been violently ill this morning, and though it had gotten better throughout the day, it had come back periodically, especially where food was concerned. She knew Quacey had noticed it as well, and she wondered if he had considered the causes. She certainly had.

Quacey

 

[Villam Regis]

What had begun as tepid, unsure pecks against her lips had grown in intensity and fervor with every passing moment. First, there had been an unease, an unknowing of what to expect. It was that peek behind the curtain, that returned need from Vazia's lips that sent the two of them on a spiraling path from demure to desperate. The heat between them was more scalding than Villam's costume could ever have hoped to depict, more intense than the core of the Fire Rune itself.

Just as Villam had lost himself in the dance with Vazia, he now too lost himself in this kiss. At some point, Vazia had melted into his chest, and both of their masks had fell to the floor, mere obstacles in the way of their desire. There was only a moment of calm, a brief respite as the cool night air bathed their flushed faces as they gazed at one another with eyes that understood and comprehended in ways no other Descendant could ever fathom or understand.

The silence was not broken by words, but by his lips on hers again, hungry, seeking out that fire she'd just ignited inside of him. Under the spell of the bewitching blue eyes that had taken him so, he found himself pressing Vazia lightly against the side of the pavilion, his kiss trailing from the corner of her lips to her jawline, lips dancing down the side of her neck as his palms ran slowly through the folds of her dress, gripping the curve of her hips through the beautiful outfit she wore.

He no longer cared for this festival, for dancing or revelry. All that mattered was the woman in his arms, whose breath tumbled across his own, who burned in his hands and returned every ounce of passion that he could offer her. With another moment of silent reprieve, Villam pulled his lips away from Vazia's pale flesh, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes with a shaky sigh.

Need for another, he'd never felt it so strongly.

"I'm... not sure what happens now. I just don't want this to end."

Vazia Ferreira

 

[Vazia Ferreira]

Villam and Vazia were descending into a heat that was nigh impossible to retreat from. After she removed their masks he reclaimed her mouth, stoking the fire between them, keeping it burning high. He was doing wondrous things with his mouth and his hands; his lips finding their way to her neck. Vazia's breathing was erratic and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart.

She was instantly aware of the absence of his mouth on her skin and she shivered involuntarily. She did not move her arms from around his shoulders or open her eyes as he rested his forehead on hers. She felt rather than heard his shaky sigh, and after he spoke, she opened her eyes slowly.

Vazia's heart rate slowed enough for her to hear the music again, reminding her of the party going on above them. She had only come because Villam had asked her; and if he wanted to be alone with her, why shouldn't they be truly alone? Away from prying eyes, where fewer people could interrupt them?

"Nor do I," Her words were more breath than voice.

Villam Regis

 

[Villam Regis]

Villam felt it too; that nagging desire in the very back of his mind, the whisper that turned to a shout with every passing second her lips weren't on his own, that his hands couldn't reach her skin no matter how desperately they clung to the dress concealing it from him. He needed more than this, they both did. The festival be damned, he needed to chase this feeling, to seize this moment before the void had a chance to swallow it up again.

There was a long, pregnant pause in the limited space between them. Regis knew what he wished to say, but found he lacked the guts to say it. He rested there, his forehead resting against her own, his lungs breathing in her air, letting the quiver of her breath fuel him, the way she leaned into his touch giving him the boldness to make the suggestion that was on both of their minds.

"Come home with me." He breathed back to her, his body so reluctantly moving away to free her from where she'd been briefly pinned. "We'll find out together.." The only thing that remained in contact with Vazia was Regis' hand, clasping her own and leading her from the pavilion and back down the hill road into town.

She'd said that she was his, and he'd reciprocated that. It was fast, unexpected and almost terrifying in it's intensity, but he wished to make the most of this night with her, wished to revel in this bliss they shared while they still had the time. By the time they reached the arching bridge over the water where they'd met eariler in the night, Villam could hear only the echo of his heartbeat in his eardrums, and feel the daggers of passerby staring at them as they made an early retreat to privacy.

This time, he didn't care.

Vazia Ferreira

 

[Vazia Ferreira]

The way Villam was looking at her, it was sure to undo her; if he hadn't already with his kisses, the look in his eyes promised he would.

He saw her, in a way no one else did. Even though they had only really started talking for a few weeks, already they were reaching across the Void for each other, lips and gazes reassuring and speaking what could not be said with voices.

It was why she let Villam take her hand and lead her out of the pavilion, out of the Tower Courtyard, and back into the streets of Valentennia. If she didn't know any better, she would have said this was a dream- a dream that she never wanted to wake up from.

They reached the bridge where Villam had kissed her hand and called her lovely. She was more aware than ever of others' eyes on them, though she pretended not to notice. Let them gossip. Let them make assumptions. All she cared about in this moment was Villam; her eyes never left him.

She knew what they were walking towards, and she did not think about turning back. She didn't want to. She hadn't felt this much in nearly a decade. Even now, when her only contact with Villam was his hand in hers, she reveled in the warmth of his skin.

If he was of any mind to notice, Villam might see a flush across Vazia's skin, and if the moon caught it just right, a scar on her bare arm that hadn't been there before. She did not notice, and even if she had, she would not have cared.

Villam Regis

 

[Villam Regis]

The Regis Estate was a massive building, indicative of the importance and wealth of the family it was built to house. But it was that size that served as a constant reminder of the tragedy that had befallen them. The large family it was meant for did not exist; Solomon's wife had passed, and as Absalon he himself resided within The Tower.

The only one who lived in the manor was Villam. He woke every day alone, to silence. Each morning was a reminder of his loneliness, of his loss, and of his strained relationship with his father.

Tonight, for the first time in so many years, Villam did not dread reaching the front door of his own home. Because he knew that tomorrow he would not wake alone. There would be another with him, a warmth in his bed that usually felt so empty and cold.

Gods, that he admitted to himself what he aimed to do tonight was both embarrassing and invigorating. Villam did not feel shame, though. There was nothing to be ashamed of in chasing passion, not when you were it's Guardian, and not during the Valenn Festival.

Villam felt things for the pale, silver-haired woman he now led into his home that no other had ever given him. It was beyond desire, beyond wanting or craving. It was a need. As much as air or food, he needed Vazia's touch, her kiss, her warmth. The moment the pair of them crossed through the doorway into the house, he chased that need, barely remembering to kick the door closed behind them as he pulled her into his arms again.

~~

Vazia Ferreira

 

[Stella]

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,"

For a fleeting moment, the look of quiet and regal pride implanted itself upon the human face of the Guardian of Wisdom. She smiled, briefly, with an expression that held a detached warmth for the past.

The tea arrived shortly after Hazanko's name entered her ears, and she watched him closely while the attendant set out the tea tray. Unfortunately they did not have what the man had requested in the form of a red clay pot, but he was provided one of earthen hue, instead, along with a modest apology.

Stella broke her stare to tend to her own tea set - another familiarity perhaps for the young Hazanko. These were stylized in the form of his own lands. Hand-made by the long-dead potter Tenmoku, formed from native clays and tastefully inlaid with mother of pearl and abalone. The pot effected a pearl dragon gracefully serpentined about its girth while the cups gleamed in the vein of misted rain clouds. Bowl-shaped with wide brims, he would know the special shape and size to be a perfected form that allowed the tea to stew and cool for the optimal experience.

Tea sets of this caliber were a cut above the rest.

"I'm afraid I no longer have Sonshan tea," the Guardian said, "but perhaps you will not mind our local brew from a cup of your homelands?"

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

'So it is!' Nodding, Mabbon suppressed a small smile. Konstantin Clay was many things, but sometimes he suspected the Guardian of Power might just be the best of them. He's certainly kind. Tracing the silver patterns etched into his mask thoughtfully, Mabbon started as a fireball rushed past not a dozen feet from where they stood.

'Was that our good friends Villam and Vazia?' The half-orc inquired of his fellows, knowing full well it had been. 'They seemed in an awful hurry. I wonder what it is they're up to!' Smirking, Mabbon tried to keep his amusement in check as he watched the two Guardians disappear from the Tower courtyard.

Good on them, he thought, shooting a wry glance towards Kaira.

'I always like to think Valenn's Night brings out the best in us,' he said, looking to his companions now that Void had slipped for a night of passion with... well, Passion. 'The rekindling of old bonds, and the forging of new ones.' He nodded, clapped Kon on the shoulder.

Theirs was a bond as old as time itself, though they were bound together by the Stones they bore rather than any personal history, which was a shame, really. 'A night for honest hearts... and newfound loves.' He turned to Kaira. Beautiful, brilliant Kaira.

Did she know how brightly she shone? How she made his heart soar just at the sight of her?

If she hadn't before, she did now.

Kaira Yehven Konstantin

 

[Kaira Yehven]

"Rude... He did not come say hello to any of us." Kaira pouted, watching her friend make an exit, or at least leaving the vicinity of the Tower. "Villam promised he would save a dance with me." The Guardian grumbled.

But that was all forgotten as Mabbon spoke, his face softening as he gazed at her and suddenly Kaira felt a warmth envelop her. She could not help the smile growing on her face, her mask unable to hide it nor her blushing cheeks.

"And a night to remember those that cannot be here to celebrate with us." Her parents used to dress her up as a child and take her every Valenn Festival... even the previous Valenn Night, she remembered how the late Fire Guardian and others were gathered around an ale stand, sharing stories and laughter. "I am glad to see so many of you since Homecoming... that you were there to help me on my first venture out of Valenntenia since becoming the Guardian of Faith, Konstantin."

Kaira was unsure if the Guardian of Power was someone that would enjoy an affectionate hug, but nonetheless, she apraoched him and gave him a quick embrace before looking up at Mabbon. "Well, I think we ought to take another dance. Unless Konstantin wishes to partake?"

The Faith Guardian was rich off of the merriment of this festive night, happy to see many of her Guardian colleagues in attendance. It made Valenntenia feel more of a home than it did in a long time, made her feel more connected to this city. No more did she spend sleepless nights and many dawns turn to dusk, trapped in prayer. It was as if Faith was stronger the more Guardians were present, but she knew in the long run, this would not be a liable option. They all had to leave Valenntenia some day, for extended periods at a time... but she would see them again at the next Homecoming.

Her dark hazel eyes strayed to Mabbon once more, and she had to inhale deeply to keep her heart in place, not free to soar.

 

[Quacey]

The larger fae was certainly out of practice when it came to dancing, but it returned to him quickly. As it did he was making more of an effort to help guide Ethir through the steps so that she might learn how to stop stepping upon his toes. An action he felt she held no remorse towards. Likely the woman was brought joy at the idea after the time they had spent traveling together.

Quacey had not noticed what she had. For him it was more a concern she might have fallen ill given the speed of their flight. Removing her from the place of her forced servitude was important and speed in the act was critical. There was easily a chance it had impacted her health in some way and was just now manifesting itself into the current symptoms she faced.

Or perhaps she just held a touchy stomach. He did not know how she normally should be after all.

So Quacey was focused on their dancing and his aim to help her improve while enjoying the activity.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir quickly fell into a rhythm with Quacey, and eventually was able not to step on his toes anymore, something he seemed to be happy about. She smiled to herself, knowing it likely annoyed him.

Her eyes were on Quacey's, but in the rhythm of the dance her mind wandered once more, rolling over the topic she could not seem to get out of her head until she was certain of it.

Something like fear trickled down her spine and may have been noticeable on her face, but luckily the dance ended just then, and Ethir stepped back a pace. She would walk off the dance floor with Quacey, but it would be evident her mind was not on the moment. She was debating with herself, wondering if she should tell him. It would not go away or change, and was that a bit of excitement underlying her fear?

"Quacey," Ethir started, pausing before continuing, "we need to talk."

 

[Quacey]

Their dance continued and Ethir showed signs of improvement. Wonderful. Perhaps she would be up for further dancing in the future. There was always some ball or event to join with the fae. Getting her to socialize would do her some good instead of letting her hole herself up like he already was sure she was going to try to do when they reached his home.

But the dance came to an end and she led him away from the crowd. Perhaps she could use some more work getting comfortable with crowds again.

The words she offered him got a raised brow. They needed to talk? An odd time and he was uncertain what it could be about.... Unless she was indeed sick and letting him know now that she had justified getting dressed up a bit.

The fae nodded to her and looked around for a bit more private a spot. One was found so he gently took her hand and guided the both of them to it. Once away from prying eyes and ears, he turned his attention fully onto her.

"What is the matter Ethir?"

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

How to say this? She was still just coming to terms with it herself, since she had only let herself think about it five minutes ago. She placed the palm of her hand flat against her stomach, as if she could calm it.

"I... I think I'm pregnant,"

She watched Quacey carefully, waiting for his reaction. She did not know how he would react- he was rather unpredictable. She fidgeted with the fabric at her midsection, and as much as she wanted to look down at her feet, she kept her gaze on Quacey.

Quacey

 

[Alaric Wulf]

Alaric was deaf to the pleas of his friend, there was a quiet and steady determination in his eyes as he pulled her in close. He looked down at her quietly for a moment, appreciating the blush of her cheeks. It matched the color of the rose that so prettily accented her hair.

He swept her into his arms then as the music swelled around them, paying no mind to the stares the flashy pair were now garnering. His focus was locked in on her, and he smiled as he quirked at brow at her frantic words. "Let them look, you're stunning Saskia. You deserve to have all the attention on you."

Steady steps continued to lead her in their dance, the swell of the music and his pounding heart were almost all he could hear. Regretfully, the song ended, but his hold on her did not. He had been blind all his life it seemed. The ever present companion in his arms, his best friend. It was clear to him that she was much more to him than that. They had been through so much together, how could he not have realized it sooner.

His heart beating hard in his ears, his own cheeks flushed from the dance, and from the thought of what he was about to do next flushed his cheeks. Alaric cupped her cheek with his hand, tilted his head towards her, and placed his first and hopefully not last kiss upon her rosy lips.

Saskia Kerraelas

 

[Quacey]

The large fae just stood there looking down at his companion following how she placed her hand on her stomach then spoke her words to him. No thoughts processing in his brain. The man might as well be an actual moth trying to not be seen at the moment from as much activity as he seemed to have going on right now.

After a bit he finally stirred. "Pardon.... Would you mind repeating what you just said? I am not certain I heard you correctly...."

Had he? If what she said was truly what he heard then how was he suppose to react? Less the news being unwanted and more just feeling sudden. They had not known each other that long and while a certain requirement for it to be true most certainly had been met enough times already....

Quacey was just too shocked at the possibility of the same thing repeating itself yet again in his life. It was about to get him to question if it might happen a third time as things tended to do.

Ethir

 

[Saskia Kerraelas]

The kiss distracted her, pulling all coherent thought from her mind and ultimately causing her to step on his toes. Saskia stumbled, lips falling away from his, but the most surprising thing, the very action that made her blush was when she sought out his lips again. The Shadow Knight, dressed in sunshine hues, clung to the moon that was her best friend. Sensations that overwhelmed her fluttered and dipped, and Saskia stepped back after a few seconds.

She looked... odd. Confused. Maybe horrified that... that they had just kissed like that. It was never something that had crossed her mind, but she hadn't exactly pushed him away either...

Cheeks filled with blushing colour, Saskia clears her throat and takes up his arms again and clumsily begins to lead and follow the dance. "That... was..." All she could think was to go find Byanka and tell her. Maybe even pull Faramund away from his sulking and make him sulk even more as she insisted she needed advice from the brotherly figure he had become to her. "Sweet." Was the only word Saskia could think of to put to the end of the words she began to say.

Alaric Wulf

 

[Ethir]

Ethir supposed she ought to have expected his blank reaction, but it still surprised her. His lack of emotion in some cases continued to surprise her, and she could not understand it, considering how over-the-top she was on a regular basis. She thought the only emotion he had was mischief.

So, even though she knew he heard her correctly, she repeated herself. "I'm pregnant." Her voice was not as shaky as it had been before, and her hand did not move from her abdomen.

She thought of the babies he had mentioned he still had at home, and guilt added to the pool of fear in her stomach, but she reminded herself she wasn't the only one to blame here. It took two people to have a baby.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

The large fae stared at her for a moment after she repeated for him what she had said before. He had indeed heard her correctly. She said she was pregnant. Another fae child growing towards birth into the world. A rare enough event given their numbers despite how promiscuous of a race they were as a whole.

"I see...."

Quacey stared at her for a moment longer then took her hands. He held them in one of his own then placed the other upon her cheek. Gently he rubbed.

"A blessing.... If you wish for such." He paused a moment after a small smile formed then shifted into a small frown. This might be the last thing she could want given everything she had been through up until now. "Do you wish for such Ethir?"

Right now his own desires were not a concern. What he would desire had already been expressed. The question was on her and what she might want. There would be a solution to the problem but it was a matter if it would even be required. Right now he just needed to find out if it was required.

Ethir

 

[Konstantin]

"Rude... He did not come say hello to any of us."

"Methinks their minds might be preoccupied, Miss Kaira. Nothing personal, I'm sure."

Konstantin briefly caught sight of Mabbon's smirk and gave him a knowing look as the latter clapped him on the back. Of course, it seemed that Shadow might've had similar intentions. It warmed Konstantin's heart to see the other Guardians pairing so well with each other. It reminded him of Minerva...

Kaira addressed Konstantin directly, shaking him from his momentary, wistful stupor. He smiled at the fledgling Guardian.
"It was my pleasure and honor, Miss Kaira," he answered, more than welcoming to her hug. "But I think the pleasure and honor of your next dance belongs to Mabbon."

He knew well the look in both their eyes. It was their time tonight, time that they should spend together.
"Value these little moments, you two. Cherish them. You might one day realize that such seemingly small trifles might one day be your most treasured memories..." Konstantin once more shook himself from his rumination. "Ah, but ignore this nostalgic old fool. Go! Dance! Have fun!"