• Event • The Mummer's Ball

[Pig Boy]

The Mummer's Ball: Madame Leona's Pageant

61st of Vhalar 720

It was an overcast, starless night on the night that the Mummer’s Ball commenced. Rain was falling in light drizzle, which was a problem for anyone walking to the affair. Thankfully, those who’d given advance notice of their arrival were afforded the use of horse-drawn, covered wagons to transport them to Miss Austere’s School of Movement and Music, where the Dance was appropriately to be held. Regardless of income or status, all of those who’d been gracious enough to give such notice were allowed to do so at the School’s own expense.

The wagons arrived from all Quarters, it seemed, but many didn’t have to travel far from wherever the guests were lodging in inns, hostels, and homes of the Glass Quarter. They came from other Quarters as well. Some from the Earth Quarter, and even a few from the Sky Quarter.

The crowd was respectable but not overwhelming in numbers. There were some among them that made a lot of noise, as this was Rharne afterall, and maybe a tenth of the attendees appeared to be under the influence.

The guests filtered into the sumptuous reception. Beyond was a ballroom which had been cleared for the first dance, with a stage propped up at the far end. There were Lightning Knights on hand at the reception to check their weapons. Canes, parasols, umbrellas, and any other bulky accoutrements were checked, taken and catalogued for later retrieval by their owners. Weapons were frowned upon to be worn into the ball, as such was not proper etiquette, and those taking weapons into the ballroom weren’t likely to find a partner as a result. Nobody liked a boor, afterall.

This was made abundantly clear to them by one of the Graduates of the school, Betsy, who went over the rules and expectations of those attending the ball among those first restrictions on bringing canes and other things into the ballroom proper. ”Now, if you need to freshen up, or if you sent your outfits ahead of you to the School, the dressing rooms are at the far side and to either side, one each for men or women, and another spare room if we have overflow.”

She went over a few more rules, such as getting with randoms was ill-advised and even worse was to entertain a boorish person who refused proper etiquette.

”The evening will commence with everyone, guests and all, gathering in the main Ballroom, where we will acknowledge the lady of the hour, Madame Leona, whose generous donation made the invitations and transportation from all Quarters of Rharne possible, let alone funding the festivities themselves.

The evening will begin after every lady and gentleman has been announced into the ballroom, and after Madame Leona has bid you all welcome here.

Then, the first round of dancing will commence. If you cannot find a partner, one of our gracious students will offer themselves to that end. You are advised to display proper etiquette. Ostentatious displays of impropriety of any kind will be met with ostracism and disdain. Anyone who fails to find a partner in the first round, or a group of four or five to dine with, will be escorted from the ballroom.

There will be food and refreshment on hand. At the midpoint of the evening there will be dinner and games, and you’re encouraged to find a group of at least four but no more than five to dine and game with.

Once dinner has been enjoyed, you will be treated to a famous play written and starred by Madame Leona and her troupe of mummers. This will proceed for about half a break, and once it’s concluded, the final round of dancing will begin.”

Betsy clasped her hands together, primly, and looked over each of the guests. ”Now, are there any questions? I will take them now and only now, afterward, You’re expected to dress and prepare yourself for the night’s festivities. Be gracious and polite, but above all, enjoy yourselves. We will introduce each of you into the ballroom, as you are ready.”

So saying, the woman stepped aside, giving way for the guests to prepare however they would.

!

Message from: Pig Boy

Heya guys, the ball will start now! My next post will be on the 31st. Can Do: Ask Betsy any questions, she will answer on my next post. Get ready for the ball, freshen up, and dress up if you had your outfit transported to the School in advance. Must Do: Stage your pc’s introduction to the ballroom, complete with announcement of your titles and name. This can also go for any NPCs you may be bringing along with you. If arriving in a pair or entourage, introduce yourselves as such. Wait for the fun to begin!

[Yeva]

T61 Vhalar 720

"Mama!" Yeva raced around the bedroom, throwing clothes from her closet, "Where's my dress?"

It should have been easily spotted, the largest thing in the small space if the silhouette of the ballgown her mother had been sewing was any indication, but all she found were simple skirts and blouses. There was a distinct panic in her voice, "I can't find it! I thought you said-"

"Easy, my love," Hestia appeared at the doorway, her arms filled with cosmetics, "I've already had it sent to the venue. You'll get dressed there; come sit and let me paint you."

Yeva stared at the woman, the cogs in her bright head turning and she nodded, swallowing the anxiety that threatened to burst from her chest, "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"Yeva," Hestia began to set out the lip stains and compressed powders, drawing her daughter towards the vanity and rubbed her shoulder, "This is nothing compared to what you've already seen. You went to Athart, you were at Scalvoris," she smiled at their reflection, catching Yeva's eye as she began to untangle the girl's curls. "You brought a man home to meet your father."

Choked laughter erupted from Yeva's throat and she managed a smile.

Her mother was right. Why was she getting so scared of a little social interaction. She closed her eyes, imagining it, "I... I don't how to dance, I just... maybe it's a bad idea."

"It's not," Hestia unscrewed a jar and took a generous amount of pastel pink goo, working it through her daughter's hair. She seemed so calm, Yeva felt like a fool. But her doubts were not so easily satiated and so Hestia tried to lighten the mood, "If you can stitch a soldier back together, you can go to a dance," Hestia chuckled, shaking her head as her fingers pulled and smoothed. It smelled of mint, just like the jar at Petyr's Pots & Potions. To help with the frizz, she remembered, "You father and I will go out, Isaac is already letting us stay there. So," Hestia began to pin Yeva's curls back effortlessly in a manner that seemed intuitive, "Now that you and that Baer boy are broken up-"

"Mama!" Yeva struggled to stay put, "I told you we weren't courting! We're just friends!"

"Yes, yes, of course," Hestia smirked, "Forgive me, my love. You disappear for over an arc, and come back with a man trailing behind you..." she sucked her teeth, smirking, "He meets your parents, you go out drinking, you-"

"Just friends," the medic grumbled, horrified but holding her ground.

"-Have nicknames for each other. He's not even the man you left with-"

"Azrael had to go back home," Yeva scratched at her knee, "He leaves every arc, you know that."

"Hm."

An awkward silence threatened to take the room, but Hestia failed to notice, sweeping past her daughter's dismay, "All I'm saying is, you're a beautiful young woman..." Another bundle of curls were pulled back and set into place, an up-do coming into fruition, "The house will be empty tonight, if you're feeling... extra friendly."

Was she...?

Yeva looked at the mirror, catching her mother's wink, and realizing what she was suggesting... Yeva face melted to a cherry, "Oh, my gods!"

"Whaaat?" Hestia's Rharnian accent echoed in the room, "We want grandbabies, is that a criiiime?"

"Mother!"

"Oh!" Hestia huffed, stabbing another pin into Yeva's hair and reaching for a tiny detail brush to work on the makeup, while Yeva swore she was no longer going to the event. Such a dramatic girl, "Fine, fine! I'll stop." Lightening strike a mother just concerned with her daughter's future, "I'm sorry, I just love you to pieces; I want you to be happy. That's all...."

Yeva gave Hestia a measured look, who, when applying her daughter's eyeliner, whispered, "Just have fun."

***

Walking to the party wasn't terrible.

Her leather boots kept the water away, and it was nice to feel the cool breeze beneath the protection of her umbrella. Making her way through the city, she eyed the shops, each one getting more elaborate than the last as she headed into the Glass district. Carriages and horses passed, Yeva wondering if they would have had a place to store Stroyski had she ridden. Or... tried to ride.

She hadn't quite felt confident enough to try alone.

The school of music was a warm beacon on a dreary evening. Yeva smiled when it came into sight and meandered past the other guests, some climbing out of their wagons in full gowns of flourishing color. She made her way up the front steps. She tried to wipe her feet on the rug and shook out her umbrella, smiling at the others in the growing reception. At once, someone was taking the bumbershoot from her hands and Betsy began to relay the plans for the evening. Proper etiquette was stressed, strumming the redhead's nerves. Could she pretend to fit in?

Beneath the cover of her blue cloak hood, Yeva glanced at the faces around her, shrinking beneath the outerwear and begrudgingly lowering the hood. Be the opposite of boorish. She could do that...

Right?

But if that wasn't bad enough...

Yeva realized they would have to find partners. If not for a dance, for a game, and suddenly she was back in Devin's classroom, stranded in a sea of people while the memory of being avoided struck her heart. "Oh no," Yeva swallowed, feeling her fear slither up and draw a shiver down her spine. Yeva may have gotten along well with others, but having to find a group?

She felt faint, forcing a smile as she edged her way towards the changing rooms. But first, she crept towards Betsy once the woman finished, waving a hand, "Excuse me," her throat felt tight, making sure she wasn't interrupting, "Sorry- you mentioned games? I, uh..." she smiled, trying to find an explanation that didn't involve her word vomiting about her insecurity in not being picked at all, "I was just wondering what sort of recreation we can expect?"

Yeva listened, excusing herself when she received something resembling an answer and gave her thanks. It was best to get to the dressing rooms before they filled up too much.

She made her way to the woman's room and checked in, finding her things. Hestia had gone all out, with a gorgeous ballgown of emerald satin. It was simple, nowhere near the master-crafted intricacy of the upperclassmen, but it fit her like a glove. Yeva was tightening the bodice, blushing at the teasing neckline and to her horror, the slit up the skirt that went nearly to her waist, "Friendly," she whined, unable to take a step without a flash of thigh. Yeva tugged her white gloves on and searched for her shoes...

And there were no shoes.

Was she supposed to have worn them here? Oh no...

Yeva groaned and took a deep breath. Reliable footwear it was. Probably for the best... she didn't know how to dance, let alone in heels.

Dressed, Yeva fastened her necklace and brooch, trying to use the fabric of her dress to hide the fact that her shoes were... an interesting choice. She handed someone her cloak and floated towards the ballroom entrance, trying not to fuss too much with her hair. A line had formed and before she knew it, she was up. Yeva shuffled her weight, wringing her hands and trying not to bite her lip. She didn't want to mess up her lip stain.

"Yeva," she whispered, watching the crier scan his list. He nodded and waved her forward.

"Please welcome Miss Yeva," his voice echoed across the room, the redhead looking away when the early patrons looked to see her arriving, "The Hero of Faldrass!"

Her eyes widened and she looked back, already starting her descent into the room, "Wait, what?"

How did he know that?

Her stomach dropped.

Mother.

[Doran]

It had been a while since the son of Ziell had attended any kind of event that was not connected to the Academy of Viden in some way and that did not constitute a requirement of sorts. When he had made the decision to travel to Rharne in order to talk to the professors and students at the local university about the upcoming science fair, he had heard about the Mummer’s Ball and sent word that he would attend though.

He did not mind the company of mortalkind as much anymore – in fact, he had begun to actually enjoy it, sometimes greatly so, perhaps due to what had started more than an arc prior – and besides, all those long breaks that he had spent in his icy laboratory, working on his research, made him wish for something different, something that was simply entertaining.

He was just standing at one of the windows of the suite at an inn in the Glass Quarter that he had rented for the duration of his stay in Rharne, gazing thoughtfully at the dark night sky and listening to the sound of the rain falling when his human servant Elias that had accompanied him approached and informed him, “I have prepared your suit, my lord, and polished your shoes. Will you require an umbrella as well?” he asked and added, “It doesn’t seem as if the rain will let up anytime soon.”

“No, that won’t be necessary”, Doran replied in a polite tone of voice and shook his head. “I will be travelling to the school by carriage and likely not walk more than a couple of metres in the rain. Thank you, by the way”, he added to the mortal who bowed before he departed.

Once Elias was out of sight, he turned to the clothes that the mortal had laid out on the bed, a fine shirt and a masterfully and elegant made bespoke blue-grey three-piece suit that was more extravagantly cut than what he usually wore and put them on, followed by a pair of matching gloves and dark leather shoes. The paperwork that he had acquired from a knight immediately after his arrival in Rharne – he had travelled through the Eclipse Portal, as a professor of the Academy of Viden he had access to it – went into an interior pocket of his suit jacket.

Mages were required to declare themselves upon entering the city. As a Transmuter he had done so, of course. He saw no reason to hide the fact that he possessed a spark (he had gotten initiated a few seasons earlier) from the local authorities, and he did not wish to get in conflict with the law. There was just one thing that was left to do now. He took his cloak, a masterfully made dark cloak that was decorated with shimmering feathers and draped it across his shoulders, and then he bade Elias farewell, went downstairs and exited the inn, just as the carriage that had been arranged for him arrived.

~~~

As Elias had predicted, it was still raining by the time that he arrived at Miss Austere’s School of Movement and Music. The crowd that was already present was respectable, but not overwhelming which was something that he appreciated. Some of the attendees already appeared to be under the influence though which made him raise an eyebrow fractionally before he simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled slightly. This was Rharne where customs were different and where alcohol consumption was not regulated.

With that thought in mind, he entered. He had neither brought a cane nor an umbrella with him, and taking weapons to what was supposed to be a social event was a questionable thing to do in his opinion, so there was nothing that he had to hand over to the knights, although he did of course take his cloak off as such things were not meant to be worn inside.

Some of the rules that Betsy explained seemed a little unusual to him – he had never heard of someone that didn’t manage to find a partner being escorted from the ballroom before.

He did not wonder about that any longer than a trill or two though. In his opinion, it would be an interesting experience either way. He did not ask the mortal woman any questions – her explanations had been clear enough in his opinion – but simply inclined his head politely before he moved towards the entrance to the ballroom. He did not shuffle, he did not wring his hands or fidget, but remained completely calm and held himself straight as he waited for his turn, only smiling very lightly or nodding politely when someone looked his way.

There was a young red-haired woman a few metres in front of him. He already thought that she looked familiar when they had been waiting in line, but the crier’s announcement confirmed it. Apparently, he was not the only attendee with a somewhat international background. His former student Yeva was here as well. The man’s calling her the Hero of Faldrass surprised him a bit for a moment, he had to admit. He had heard of the Faldrass catastrophe, of course, but he had not known that the young woman had played an important role during those events. He had always suspected that she would go far though.

If she looked around, he would smile at her slightly and incline his head, and a few moments later, he finally stepped forward. He had collected a number of impressive titles over the arcs – in Etzos, he was Lord Doran or Sir Doran, for example, and he had been called the Hero of Oscillus due to what had happened during the battle at Treid’s Tomb. He regretted his deeds deeply though. Sometimes, he wished that he were able to turn back time - or pretend that that man, the man that he had used to be, had died and forget all about him at least, but either way, he did not want anybody to know him by that title here.

“Professor Doran Thetys”, he introduced himself in a calm tone of voice – he preferred to be known by his academic title these trials as he was actually proud of that – he had made a great scientific breakthrough just earlier that arc. The mortal in front of him checked his list before he nodded and proceeded to announce, “Professor Doran Thetys.”

A moment later, the son of Ziell and Blessed of Syroa entered the ballroom proper and waited for the event to begin.

[Vega]

61st Vhalar, 720

"I wanted to be the person checkin' in the stuff," Vega said, handing over her parasol to the Lightning Knight. "An' remind me when I pick that back up that I need to complain, it's right useless as an umbrella it is." The Lightning Knight looked at her to check if she was being serious or not, and raised an eyebrow. Vega had chosen not to have her dress sent here, because frankly, it had sounded like the worst idea possible. Just like the last time she'd got "fancied up" as she called it - the entire thing had taken a lot of time and effort. Plus, there was the grunting and the swearing and the loud "ping" sounds as one bit of elasticated something-or-another flew out of her hands. She'd have probably ended up putting someone's eye out, or getting into a fight. So, Vega had got dressed and then made her way here. However, she handed over a bag to the Lightning Knight, in which was a pair of comfortable shoes. Those, she'd worn on the way here, carrying her formal shoes in the bag she now handed over. Then, Vega sat down and pulled on her dress shoes. "I do not believe," she grumbled, "that women all over Idalos voluntarily shove their feet into these torture devices on a trial-by-trial basis. That's it," putting her feet on the floor, she stood rather gingerly. "Karem's krispy krackers, that's well uncomfortable, an' I'm teeterin'." She missed Arlo, every bit of every break, but never more than when she was uncomfortable or feeling out of place.

Right now, she was both.

Putting thoughts of her husband to one side, Vega smiled and nodded to the Lightning Knight, and she walked towards where some woman was pontificating about "ostentatious displays" and "ostracism and disdain". Vega listened, carefully, but she understood roughly one word in every six, and she found herself frustrated by that fact. Then, Betsy - which was apparently her name - threw Vega a lifeline. "Anyone who fails to find a partner in the first round, or a group of four or five to dine with, will be escorted from the ballroom." Betsy said and Vega took that little nugget of information and kept hold of it. If this was as bad as she thought it was going to be, if the people here were all going to be talking like this dweeb, then Vega had an out. She highly doubted that there were any actual ostriches... ostrichi ... ostrich which were coming here, and they'd be great fun if they did - so why Betsy was making it sound like a threat, Vega did not know.

Still, it was probably because the people here were all prim and proper and fussing around. Vega stood straight and her swirling biqaj eyes took in the scene around her. She felt that she'd scrubbed up well enough, in a yellow dress which had a full and floaty skirt and a tight bodice with a single diagonal shoulder. Her hair was loose, and tamed like previously, and she wore the bracelet which Arlo had given her, a leather thong with a mystic topaz and zircons entwined in it. Vega loved that bracelet more than anything else she owned; it was the first ever birth-trial gift he'd given her, after all and then, a year or so later, he'd retrieved it from the ashes of the Scalvoris docks. The only other jewelry she wore was a locket which bore the image of Daia and a lion on it.

Betsy asked if they had any questions and Vega briefly considered asking about the ostriches and why they were met with disdain, but she decided against it. She had that feeling which she sometimes got, which said that in fact she was probably misunderstanding. So, no questions from Faldrun's daughter.

And then, there was the moment where they had to tell the person at the door - the doorstop, Vega thought they were called - what her name was. She had noticed that everyone was lady this, or lord that. There was a miss Yeva, which Vega thought was nice and unpretentious, but then apparently she was the "Hero of Faldrass". Vega bit back a snort. Then there was a Professor, which meant he was a big-brain and so he'd disapprove of her and then, it was her turn. Vega looked at the individual taking their names, and she said, with a smile, "So, I'm Vega. What've you got there to say about me?" He didn't look inclined to tell her, but Vega wasn't backing down. "I'm Vega Creede, no titles, please. Jus' that, jus' my name." she said. She was happy with that, and the man announcing her acquiesced to her wish.

"Introducing Vega Creede," he said, and she walked in.

Looking around at the people, Vega's height gave her a natural advantage. Being six foot tall usually, the young woman had a good vantage point. The torture implements strapped to her feet helped with that, too. But then, she caught sight of the man in front of her and Vega frowned slightly. He looked familiar. He looked really familiar.

And then she remembered.

She'd dreamed with him, this man. She'd put it down to just being a dream when the two of them had been escaping from people chasing them, because of what he'd done. But, the first time that she met Xiur, she'd mentioned it to him and he'd confirmed it. This was.....

Vega's eyes met Doran's and her gaze didn't drop. The mark of Xiur, no longer just a glowing freckle on her chest but now a shimmering almost-dragon, seemed to sparkle and she met his eyes. Did he remember, too, she wondered? She thought he did. But then, Vega gave him a slight smile and nodded her head. If Xiur could forgive him, she figured, she could too. He'd done no lasting harm and the Immortal had been clear with her; no one was worth giving up hope on. So she smiled and stepped towards him as the only person she knew here. "Hello," Vega said quietly. "I'm Vega an' I feel well out of place here. My husband isn't here for me to hide with, so, I thought I'd pick a random stranger an' have a chat." She looked at him and smiled, her biqaj eyes swirling in a strange mix of colours. If he recognised her, she wanted him to know it was alright. "An' you look like someone I met a few times, arcs ago." Then, she said in a soft - conspiratorial almost - voice. "I've never been to a ball like this, except in dreams an' stuff, an' I'm well out of place." With the slightest grin, she said. "So, give me some hope, would you?"

[Arlo Creede]

A formal ball with all of the usual trappings, its glimmer and glitz, was the last place Arlo would have expected to be on his first night back in Rharne; after so long away. At Maste’s Maze, what had felt like a handful of trials inside, was at odds with the realities of the outside world. He’d been gone for several seasons now, he and his own mortal father. Much of that time, the sort of cosmic connection that he and Vega ordinarily shared had been severed; only to return, to some extent, once he’d successfully extracted Jonas from his hairbrained misadventure, and safely emerged again.

But if a formal event was where Vega had gone, then that was where Arlo would find her. It was unheard of these trials that he could get anything past her. Much less surprise her. This was one of those rare instances, and he was keen to take advantage.

He had Vega’s own father to thank for easing the way to a timely arrival. His father in law had gambled that he might just arrive back in time to make the ball, and so he’d added Arlo’s name to the list and arranged for a late carriage to pick him up and carry him there. All without alerting Vega to the plan. A suit had been laid out for him; midnight blue, black and gray; cream falls of silk cascading out from a high collar, and polished black boots. Arlo had even agreed to let one of his sisters’ in law shave his jaw and give his hair a quick trim before he dressed for the occasion.

Before he climbed into the carriage, Arlo put his hat; the one left for him by his Immortal father, onto Jonas’ head. ”Keep this safe till I get back,” he said. ”and if you ever try anything like that again, I’ll lash you to the mast to make you stay put.”

***

If Arlo had thought he could slip quietly into the event without fuss or fanfare, then disappear into the crowd in search of Vega, he’d been woefully mistaken. It appeared that the only way in was, by both appearance and conduct, to meet with the approval of Betsy. Or as Arlo would come to think of her as he listened smiling and nodding to one directive after another, and another, the Gatekeeper. Tossed out for not finding a dance partner, or numerous enough dining partners seemed like a little much. But far be it from him to argue. He had no questions. Betsy appeared to have covered it all and more.

”Thank you,” he said, intending to duck into the dressing rooms only long enough to wipe his boots free of the splatters of mud that he’d picked up along the way. In just a few bits, Arlo emerged again, handed over his cape and sword, and fell into line behind several other new arrivals; none of Arlo thought he recognized. But according to the fellow that called out the names while they were ticked off his list, lots of lords this and ladies that and so on.

As for himself when the moment arrived, Arlo had no titles or well-known claims to fame. Arlo Creede, Son of Cassion then? Hardly. He was no more inclined to announce himself in that way than his own Immortal father was. ”Arlo Creede,” he told the man, and that was more than enough. ”Mister Arlo Creede!” the man called out, far louder than Arlo believed was necessary as he headed down the stairs and then into the ballroom; his gaze scanning the assembled crowd while he smiled and nodded politely to those who might look his way.

He’d been so intent on trying to spot Vega that it took a moment for Arlo to become aware, if vaguely, of a strangely familiar sort of tingling upon his skin. Something suggesting his Immortal father’s influence. Nothing dramatic, but subtle. Perhaps someone present, besides himself, had been marked by the Immortal. ”Hmm,” he observed quietly to himself. It wouldn’t shock him at any rate. Arlo had seen his father in action, even before he’d known of the family connection. While his marks might not be common by any means, nonetheless, Cassion tended to turn up where he pleased, when he pleased, and in ways that were hard to predict.

[Elisabeth Black]

Taking a deep breath, she glanced around as the carriage glided through the dimly lit streets of Rharne. Manners were something she did have – in spades – so when she had replied with an affirmation of her attendance, she asked if she could arrive early and get ready for the event on-site. With the arrangements made, the carriage arrived precisely at the agreed-upon time and whisked her away. Having never traveled in such a fancy carriage before, she decided to let her anxiety about the event go for the time being and just enjoy the moment. One perfect moment of peace.

But one could only hold back the tide of panic for so long…

As the carriage gracefully pulled up to Miss Austere’s School of Movement and Music, she felt her nerves sparking back to life, mind whirling with a checklist of all the things she had to do in the next few breaks to turn her into something that wouldn’t be a phenomenal embarrassment. Taking the proffered hand of the footman, she carefully stepped down onto the street and followed his directions to the front entrance. There, she was further instructed where to find her dress and accessories.

Thank the stars for Faith and the offer to send her outfit ahead to the school! There had been no desire to dress for the event at home – Vin and Rilith would have just made that task impossible with suggestions and stories. She was already nervous enough as it was. Vin had gone so far as to ask Lore – her sword mentor- if he would be so kind to escort her to the ball. While his intentions were sweet and she had thanked him abundantly for thinking of her and her well-being, the last thing she wanted to deal with was being attached to another while endeavoring to investigate Madame Leona and her alleged connection to Daia. At least, that’s what the scholars at the Institute said. Sometimes she thought scholars were worse than nosy women when it came to gossip. What she had learned about that though was in most cases, they had better sources than nosy women. She always reasoned that there was some nugget of truth wrapped up in the stories.

Having finally made her way to the room set aside for the ladies to change in, she collected her items and moved over to a corner of the room. Arriving early afforded her the opportunity to dress in relative peace – the advantages of which were that others wouldn’t witness her unease with the process. In Viden, there had been few occasions to dress up and never formally. The idea of spending currency on something that she would certainly only wear once was absurd to her but she had found a way to make it acceptable to her moral compass (again, thanks to Faith) and accomplish the goal she had set out for herself.

“That’s just…sad, “she muttered to herself. “Even I would be bored with me…”

It was an internal dialogue for another time.

Grabbing her small pack, she pulled out a few paints that Rilith had shown her how to use. Elisa typically didn’t care for the idea of coloring one’s face like some women…but she did understand that not doing so would make her stand out…and that wasn’t the objective of the evening. A few quick strokes of the brush, lining her eyes and lips softly with natural colors and she was done with that. It was – at the least – good enough. Her hair was the one thing she had allowed her adoptive mother to help her with before she left the cottage. Most trials, it was enough to either tie her long, dark locks back or pile them on top of her head before rushing off to the Institute…but that wasn’t going to work for this event. Rilith had more knowledge about fussy girl things than Elisa did so the help was appreciated. Within a few bits, soft curls had been created and the job was declared done.

Maneuvering carefully into the beautiful gown chosen for her, she secured the material and checked the fit as Faith had instructed. A miracle worker that woman was – it fit like a glove. Slipping her shoes on, she inspected the final product, slightly amused at how the women looking back at her looked nothing like herself. “It’s just for one-night Elisa, “she reminded herself.

Tomorrow, she could go back to being herself.

Her one concession to the real Elisabeth was the inclusion of her necklace. Like Vin and Rilith, it was something that had always been with her. When they had found her in the wilderness as a young child, it had been the only item in her possession...and she had no memories of where it came from or what it was. Furthermore, the writing on the face of the amulet was something that no one to date could read - saying a lot when her own adoptive father was a Master Linguist. The writing was a mystery yet to be solved, much like Elisa herself. She often thought that Vin and Rilith knew more than they let on but over the arcs had learned that it was a lost cause trying to persuade them to spill said secrets.

That left her to try to figure things out on her own.

Securing her items, she made her way back to the main room where the woman had been talking about the ‘rules’ for the evening. Elisa hadn’t thought much about them at the time because there had been more important things to be apprehensive about. But now that she at least looked something of the part, she went over them in her head. Madame Leona – got it. Dancing – what? She was going to have to find someone to dance with? That hadn’t been part of her grand plan and she frankly couldn’t think of anything worse than subjecting someone to her non-existent skills. Grace only got someone so far if they didn’t know the actual steps. The news got worse from there with a ‘rule’ regarding group dining. Since she probably wouldn’t know anyone, that meant small talk….and she was horrible at small talk. Give her an insightful conversation regarding the meaning of life, but never talk about the weather. And if she couldn’t find a dance partner or dining companions, she wouldn’t be able to remain.

Mind whirling a bit, she bit her lower lip and went over her options to solve the dilemma. Lore was attending so there was the possibility she could induce him to be her dance partner – but only if she couldn’t figure out something else. It was also conceivable that he would know some people she could dine with…but again, just if there were no other options. Socializing was not a strength of hers and certainly not something she had planned on spending her evening on.

A line had formed at the entrance to the ballroom. Her mind was still too frantic, filled with challenges that needed to be solved as soon as possible, to pay much attention to the people that were being introduced ahead of her but before she knew it, her turn had arrived. The crier looked expectantly at her, waiting for her to give him some indication as to who she was.

“Uh…sorry. Miss Elisabeth Angelus. No titles.”

As he repeated her name, she took a deep breath and stepped into the room, sapphire eyes up and the best smile she could manage. It took only five more steps before her gaze located Lore. Engaged in conversation with a pair of ladies and a mischievous look in his eye, she immediately knew that her escape plan wasn’t feasible. He wouldn’t save her unless something extraordinarily odd happened to get his attention - a herd of ostriches barreling down on her perhaps?

He was enjoying his evening and she had to riddle out how to save herself.

[Balthazar Black]

61 Vhalar 720

Deep breaths. Relax. All you have to do is walk around and make nice. You can avoid the dancing. Balthazar took another deep breath to try and calm his nerves but he thought a drink might be better for it. He didn't get one though because he refused to show up to the event reeking of alcohol. Who knew who he might meet? That was the point of going. A little break from everything to enjoy the best of Rharne before he went home. Try not to look like a freak. Balthazar banged his hand on his mattress and stood up, walking over to the chest in his tavern room where he stored most of the belongings he carried around with him. He pulled out the chest plate of his grave gold armor and looked at his reflection in the golden surface.

His age was the least of his concerns. He didn't have to worry about wrinkles or leathery skin- no he had larger concerns. Etheric cracks ran down his cheeks from his eyes that glowed like blue flames. Similar cracks spider-webbed up his hands to his elbows with a faint glow that shined through most clothing. He couldn't touch anything without shocking it and he couldn't get angry with generating more sparks that a lightning storm. He glowed. He didn't even know what spark it was that made him glow anymore. Defiance? Probably. He was hot to the touch as well but the jokes that could be made about that were some small relief. When he walked to the Mummer's Ball through the rain it would cling to him and drench whatever he wore. At least he'd had the good sense to plan ahead for that and send the new suit he intended to wear to the Ball ahead of time. Nothing could save his hair so what was the point of trying?

He knew he had to try. Balthazar set the grave gold chest plate upright on the edge of his bed and sat in front of it with his legs crossed and his hands resting gently on his knees. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. He only held a few active attunements; Isabella, Nimue, Victor and a few possessions. He had the capacity and the practice but he hated the feeling that he was hiding. He wasn't hiding, it was just easier without- alright he was hiding... but he was tired of being judged as a mage first. With each breath he tried to clear his mind and reach inward, digging through his own frequency for the sparks inside. More now than when he'd left Scalvoris and as a result more effort to calm. Yet he didn't have to calm them all, just two.

Balthazar began humming gently between slow breaths in and out through his nose as he began to soothe his Rupturing and Defiance sparks. Like meditating, with every breath the glow

"What are you doing?" Nimue asked as she materialized across the room and picked up her dagger from the table Balthazar had set it on.

"Getting ready for the Ball." Balthazar replied with as he examined his golden reflection in the chest plate. His eyes still glowed but it wasn't as bad as it had been and now you could see his face- no etheric cracks. Balthazar slowly ran his fingers along the skin on his cheek where the cracks had been and he could swear he felt a wrinkle but he could not see it in the reflection. Maybe it was in his head? All the same he decided he could work with glowing eyes if it meant that everything else was under control... well not everything else.

"Was that tonight?" Nimue asked as she sauntered over to the edge of the bed and looked at Balthazar. "Why the change? I thought it helped you see better at night?" Fair point. He did still have the walk ahead of him.

"I don't think it compliments the suit we got." Balthazar replied and Nimue shrugged. What did she know about fashion? Balthazar grabbed his chest plate and slipped off his bed to put it back in the chest. "I have to go, I'm going to be late."

"I doubt that." Nimue laid back on the bed and looked at her dagger as if it was a novel. Balthazar gave her a slight wave and cast a glance towards his weapons sitting beside the chest. He'd never needed them but it felt strange to leave without them now. Then again, who needed weapons at a dance? Just as he was about to step out the door, a little flaming rock dashed between Balthazar's feet to get out before him. Fuego was on the move and so Balthazar didn't linger, setting off to the Mummer's Ball.

--- --- ---

Nimue was right, Balthazar had arrived on time. He walked quickly through the Earth Quarter into the Glass Quarter beneath a sky that would not stop pouring on him. He had an umbrella which he'd bought solely because people tended to have a problem with a mage walking around with an invisible one pushing the rain around him. It kept his hair dry but not his boots or the lower end of his pants which irritated Balthazar to no end. He knew that it didn't matter because he'd be changing when he arrived but he still didn't like the feeling. He was used to the elements being his close companions... it kind of hurt to have them treating him like everyone else.

He should have used one of the carriages that had been offered but he felt independent and he didn't want to end up stuck in a small box with a bunch of pompous strangers. He was going to spend plenty of time around strangers at the Ball. He didn't need to meet and greet on the way- or at least he thought he wouldn't need to. He certainly felt underdressed when he arrived and saw the incredible outfits everyone else was wearing and no matter how many times he reminded himself that he had bought a suit just as nice, he couldn't shake the feeling it wouldn't look as good on him as everyone else's outfits looked on them.

For the first time ever, Fuego seemed the more confident of the duo. Balthazar found himself standing just outside Miss Austere’s School of Movement and Music, staring into the entrance as other filed through it. Fuego looked up at the mage, waiting for some sign to advance that Balthazar never gave. Instead the mage took a step backwards- away from the school. It's not too late. Go home. Forget about the dance. Don't embarrass yourself. But Balthazar quickly resolved that it was too late. He'd already bought the suit and sent it ahead, he couldn't just leave it at the school. They'd know he didn't show up.

So he went in with the next wave of people he saw, trying to blend in as best he could while standing out like a sore thumb. White hair and golden, glowing eyes did not make for a stealthy individual. Balthazar noticed, first and foremost, that two of the five people he was walking in with smelled of the very alcohol Balthazar had resisted drinking before setting out to the Ball. Damn it, this is Rharne. Live a little next time. Balthazar chastised himself silently in his head but those thoughts were quickly drowned out by a small sense of awe at the interior of the school the Ball was being held at. A beautiful place full of beautiful people and Balthazar was in black with more mud on his shoe than he was comfortable with- which didn't turn out to be much mud at all.

A woman, one of the Graduates though Balthazar did not know it, began providing the attendees with basic rules and directions to help them all get situated. She mentioned the changing rooms and Balthazar's head perked up, looking to the far side of the room at the spot Betsy had mentioned. From there, the news only grew more and more dire. It seemed he would have to dance, sooner or later. He either had to dance with someone he could convince to take the risk or someone provided from the school which he honestly felt would go worse. At least if he found someone else who didn't know how to dance they could fumble through it together. If he ended up with someone who did know... well that would be embarrassing. How many times could a man apologize for stepping on your foot? Then an even more frightening thought occurred to him- what if he couldn't find anyone who wanted to dance with him at all?

Balthazar's eyes began nervously looking around the room as an entirely imagined pressure settled on him. A familiar redhead asked Betsy about what sorts of games they could be expecting later but Balthazar's mind was miles away. Games? He had to dance first. He could deal with games when it got to that. Where was his suit? He wanted to know that, but he didn't ask. He figured he could find it near the dressing room because the Ball seemed more than organized enough not to have lost it. The moment they were free to do so, Balthazar made his way to the male dressing room and checked in.

When it was his turn, Balthazar went in and changed into his suit as quickly as he could. One by one he pulled off the rain-tainted garments he'd worn with him and in the privacy of the dressing room he conjured a little breeze to further dry himself off. It was strange with his spark soothed but a little pushing did the trick and once he was dry again, Balthazar began slipping into his fine attire. He was not used to dressing up but the clothing he had made it easy to feel confident. Within bits, Balthazar found himself standing in a nice, three-piece suit. The suit was, predictably, black but it was made of a fine and soft fabric that made it feel lighter than the clothing Balthazar had worn through the rain. Balthazar twisted slightly as he looked down at himself in his suit. As far as he could tell each piece was black except the shirt itself which was a darker blue for the moment. The vest and the jacket that stretched down just a hair before his knee were both black when he looked at them and the pants were the same. Like Yeva, he'd made the mistake of not considering his shoes and as a result he spent a few moments cleaning off the boots he'd worn in before slipping them back on and putting his pant leg over them. No one would notice right? Who cared about shoes? Probably the same people who cared about formal attire to begin with.

He was not used to wearing a vest but he liked the way it felt around his abdomen. It was like being hugged by a blanket and it looked damn decent on the white haired mage. He slipped the jacket on and gave a small twirl to see how the fabric moved. His arms felt more restricted with it on but that was probably the point. Balthazar took a deep breath which he blew out through his lips making a gentle throttle-like sound. He'd taken up long enough in the dressing room so with another deep breath to help put him in his happy place, Balthazar left to get in the line leading to the ballroom. It was there, where he could hear the names of everyone being announced, that Balthazar began to recognize more than a few faces.

The Hero of Faldrass. Yeva. Matchstick. Blushes. She deserved all the titles and more but Balthazar was just surprised to see her there. He didn't know why he was surprised- she'd mentioned Rharne was her home before, but he was. The surprise settled into a little joy. He knew her. He wasn't surrounded by strangers. Then the joy slipped when he realized she was going to see him dance. How he had become a master in Defiance without learning to really dance escaped him but he'd done it. When he saw her cross into the Ball room in her gown, whatever he had been thinking was replaced by surprise again. Damn, Matchstick, nice dress.

But then the next name was called out. Professor Doran Thetys. Balthazar knew him as well and cast a glance at the man who always made him feel just a little... strange. What was the professor doing here so far away from his office in Viden? What was Balthazar doing here? Find him later, catch up. They always had the most interesting conversations and now Balthazar was more like Doran than before- a transmuter. Balthazar made a mental note for himself and turned his attention to the next person being announced- foolishly not spending his time thinking of what he'd be called. Balthazar did not know Vega or Arlo well enough to think much of their introductions which gave him some time to consider his own but when he heard Elisabeth's name his head popped up slightly in surprise. He knew a lot of people here.

Then, to his sudden realization, it was Balthazar's turn to be announced. "Oh no..." The words escaped beneath Balthazar breath as the man looked towards him, expecting an answer. What did he say? Yeva was the Hero of Faldrass and he couldn't exactly say Fire Forged. Master of the Four Elements? No, too pretentious. Hero of Quacia? Not necessarily true. Element? Would they understand that? Flame Trooper of Scalvoris? Wannabe-Militant? No, no, no no, no, no. He just couldn't decide. "Balthazar Black."

"Mister Balthazar Black!" As his named was called out he crossed into the ballroom, trying to stand as straight as he could. It was uncomfortable and his posture shifted back to normal the moment the next name was called out. He looked around the ballroom nervously as Betsy's threat echoed in his head. Find a partner or get kicked out. He felt more self conscious about his glowing eyes now than ever but he couldn't let it distract him. Partner. Partner. Balthazar kept slowly scanning the room like a seasoned detective scanning for a suspect. It helped to think of it that way. He saw Doran- he did not know why he thought to go to Doran as a dancing partner, but regardless the professor seemed occupied speaking with the woman who had been introduced as Vega. Vega. There was something about the way the air moved around her. Something... familiar. Yet two people made a pair and so Balthazar's gaze moved on.

Then he saw Elisabeth from earlier in Vhalar and thought about approaching her but he had no idea what he would say. The first time they'd met she'd seen him shirtless in the middle of a brawling tournament. He thought that- all and all, that was a fairly good picture of him. Did he really want her to see him fumble through a dance? She seemed to be eyeing a man across the room who was speaking with a few women. Did she fancy him? He couldn't really tell but all the same he moved on, keeping Elisa in the back of his mind. There were more men, some women, and Yeva. His face got a little red when he saw her and he looked away quickly.

Fuego, basking in his ability to be invisible, looked up at Balthazar curiously and Balthazar gently shooed Fuego away with his foot. Shut up. Balthazar telepathically said to Fuego before looking at the people around Yeva. Why not her?... Balthazar kept looking around but he was still thinking about Yeva. She was Fire Forged, she'd been to Scalvoris which gave them plenty to talk about, she'd seen him at his worst already- she was perfect! But she was probably there courting men and he didn't want to get in the way of that. His eyes slipped down to her feet where he saw that she'd made a practical choice. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if he stepped on her feet? No that probably hurt no matter what. He took a deep breath and drummed his fingers along his sides. Relax, breathe, keep looking around. Don't stare at anyone.

[Vivian Shiryu]

The night of the Mummer's Ball was here, and the carriage that had been arranged for Vivian and her kids had pulled up. Vivian had sent their outfits ahead for the venue, since more experienced people would be there to help them with getting properly dressed. So Vivian had dressed simply and when it was time to go, she called the kids out. "Seira, Seriel, it's time to go. The carriage is here." she said, her tone cheerful. When the two came out, she handed them each an umbrella for the rain during the brief walk to the carriage, then followed them out and locked the door behind her. The carriage ride to the school was fairly short since they lived in the Glass quarter, and Vivian happily spent the short ride chatting with her daughters if they wanted to talk.

When the got there, she followed them into the room and grinned at the knight who was handling weapons checks as they handed over their umbrellas. "Now sword, this time. Not even the dagger." she said, pulling up her sleeves to show she wasn't wearing her spring dagger. When the knight on duty grinned and nodded back, Vivian led the way into the changing room so that they could get helped into their outfits. Watching some of the others get dressed, Vivian was very glad that she had insisted on sensible shoes for herself. Heels looked just remarkably uncomfortable and she couldn't really see that there was any benefit gained to wearing them. Once they were all dressed and as prettied up as they were going to be, and Vivian had stubbornly refused even the most basic of face painting or other such, they went back out into the reception to listen to the instructions for the ball.

As the receptionist went over the rules, Vivian felt a twinge of amusement. The way the woman was talking would have been very fitting for a Rynmere social event, and as a result, sounded rather jarringly out of place in the more relaxed and informal Rharne. She didn't say anything, however, as it would have been remarkably rude to criticize someone just on the grounds of being too formal, especially when Vivian herself was a bit uptight by Rharnian standards. The stipulation on finding a partner for the first round of dancing drew a frown from the knight though. It was definitely stretching the bounds of good behavior, that rule, as some people relied on those early portions of formal gatherings to relax enough to be able to truly participate.

The rest of the rules were fairly simple and Vivian gave a mental shrug. They were very concerned about numbers at this ball, but it was harmless enough, she supposed. Unless it proved to be more than just someone's uptight planning, she wasn't going to make an issue of it. She didn't have any questions for the hostess, and when it was time, she led her daughters into the ballroom. When the announcer looked at her and her daughters, Vivian nodded at him. "Constable Vivian Shiryu, and my daughters, Seira and Seriel." she said, her tone simple.

The announcer found their names on his list, then nodded and, in a voice that Vivian judged would be great for a training field, announced them. "Constable Vivian Shiryu." he said, before going on to introduce Seira and Seriel to the entire Glass Quarter. With that loudness done, Vivian led her kids out onto the dance floor. "You two feel free to mingle as you want. You're old enough now you don't need me hovering over your shoulders." she said, smiling at them. If they wanted to say with her, she wouldn't mind, but they were past needing her to keep them close.

[Hinata]

link to the dress Hinata is wearing

Hinata arrived by carriage, as did a lot of others by the looks of it. “Why not?” was her thought on the matter. If someone wanted to pay to transport her in style then she wasn’t going to say no. She followed the crowd that was filtering into the venue while trying to find a familiar face. She didn’t recognize anyone which could only be attributed to her own hesitance to go out and meet new people.

She’d listen to the rules and summary provided by the woman who seemed to be in charge of the reception. “So I’ve got to find a dance partner or meal group or go home? I should have brought a date,” she thought while people asked their questions. She had none of her own to ask because she was too worried about finding a partner now. The woman had also mentioned etiquette which was something she knew nothing about for these sorts of occasions. “Good immortals, what have I gotten myself into?”

It was then that Hinata finally started to notice that she was not well dressed for the event. Though she had obtained the masterwork quality dress from Faith’s shop, the dress was very revealing and not really meant for dancing. It was something one would wear to seduce. It was tight and didn’t leave all that much to the imagination but Hinata had picked one like this on purpose. Hinata’s mutation made it so that wind tossed her hair and clothes around so unless she had tight clothing on her clothes were sure to be a nuisance to the people around her. “With any luck,” she thought, “I’ll find a rich man or woman here to make mine. Then I’ll be able to afford all the dancing lessons I could ever need.”

Soon the crowd started to be admitted into the ballroom. Hinata felt a little ashamed for not having any title. Some were labeled as heroes or professors but she was just introduced as “Introducing Hinata,” which meant that she’d done nothing noteworthy with her life. Hinata shrugged then walked on in to join the others.

Of all the people in the room, the one that immediately drew her attention was Balthazar. He literally glowed which told Hinata that he was probably a mage. She walked up to him from behind and would attempt to put her hand softly on his shoulder. She’d say, “Hello, do you have a dancing partner yet? I’m Hinata and you are…?” She knew it started with a B but her memory was failing her since she’d just heard so many names.

[Gennadiya Lyosha]

The two from Lysoria sat quietly in the carriage as it pulled towards the ball. Both had sent there clothing ahead as it just made sense rather then risk it being ruined while they traveled. Originally they had planned on just them but Genna’s dirri, Nayeli had been dying to come and see all of the clothing. Genna hadn’t Ben able to say no and so on the condition Of her not publicly commenting clothing.

Once the wagon arrived the two climbed out and quickly moved across the open ground and into the building. Genna firmly holding her shawl over her head.

They were paused at the door where any weapons or cane or umbrellas were handed over to the Lightening knights. She smiled at them as she handed over her war fan. Her father didn’t carry a cane but handed over a knife of his own. He had taught his daughters well.

The father and daughter each made their way towards the dressing rooms assigned to their gender. Genna paused and looked at the dress that Faith had helped her pick out. The beautiful young woman had left Ed it and been very surprised when her father had agreed to am supported it. The doctor was also a decent psychologist as well and strongly suspect her father had taken the road to support the dress because he wanted grandchildren and the more men who paid attention to here the more likely it would be that she would find the one.

Gennadiya didn’t look to intently into this gift horses mouth and just slipped into the dress. With care she positioned and buttoned everything up and then sat down to finish her hair. She had actually done most of it before but there were a few finishing touches. Nayeli herself. The dirri was mostly translucent but there were metallic strands racing around her body. So when the creature rested upon Genna’s hair the only part you could see would be the metallic looking strands. The dirri settled into place with a happy hum. Now it appeared as if Genna was wearing a delicate tiara with ribbon like strands. Gennadiya on this occasion allowed her white blond hair to cascade down the back except for some strands that she wove into a crown like braid around the side and back of her head.

Gennadiya stood up and checked herself one more time in the mirror and smiled. Genna knew about make up and had even used it when she was younger but she liked her coloring and so let it work together. She nodded at what she saw. The white of her dress helped bring out the pinks in her skin and yellows in her hair. With a smile the Lysorian woman turned away from the mirror gracefully left the changing room.

Her father was waiting for her outside the room dressed in his suite. Gennadiya could see the play of emotions behind her fathers eyes but he smiled and extended his arm. The two joined the crowd as Betsy explained the rules. There was exchange of looks between father and daughter. Rules at balls were something new but they took it with the smooth grace one developed in Lysoria. Otherwise the predators would get you. Genna wasn’t the type to stand against a wall so she wasn’t to worried about the requirements.

Soon the two joined the line and at their turn Kolya said “Kolya Lyosha and my daughter Gennadiya Lyosha.” The announcer looked at them and then announced “Mr Kolya Lyosha and his daughter one of the Hero’s of the Ember plague, Gennadiya Lyosha.”

Gennadiya was a bit surprised by the introduction especially since she was positive her father would have even known. The two walked into the room and paused. Nayeli hemmed and whispered “It’s so beautiful.” Genna smiled.

“Okay dear. I am going to find the other old people. Find me if you need something.” Her father kissed the top of her head and left. Gennadiya nodded her head and turned towards the crowd. She moved through the crowd recognizing a people mostly from her time in the hospital and she smiled at them. It was then that she saw her fellow Vivian. Genna came forward and spoke up when the she was next to Vivian. “Hello Constable.” She said in her pleasant voice that was projected just a bit so that she could be heard in the growing crowd. “It is a pleasure to see you.”