Open [Seasonal Event] The Winter Ball

[Paragon]

The Winter Ball Please ReadHi Zeltivans! Last years Winter Ball was rather dramatic and more than a little bit of a disaster, but this years should stay relatively calm. Rather than a quest, I'm simply setting the scene here. All Zeltivans (you don't have to be a student, the invite is open to the city) are welcome to jump in and have fun. All guests get a black or white masque of their choice, and I will reward them as items to keep once the thread is finished! So go on, mingle, dance, drink, do whatever! Timestamp: 85th of Winter, 512 AV Lavish. If there was a word to describe the annual Winter Ball, that was it. But it was a curious entity, for the ball itself was not exclusive to the upper classes of Zeltivan society. Professors and elites mingled with merchants and shoeshiners. And none thought anything of it, since this was how the Winter Ball had always been. The great hall of the University's West Wing housed the party, funded completely by the University. Perhaps it was a great big advertising campaign for the instituion. Or perhaps it was just to promote harmony in the city. No one really knew, but they cared little. As guests entered into the hall through the atrium, they were handed a black or white masque of their choosing. They would garb themselves with the masque before entering proper, so as to partly disguise their identity and add to the glamour of the ball. Inside, plates of food, mainly simple fare dressed up with fancy garnish, sat on gold cloth. Champagne sparkled almost as much as the dresses in the light. While many guests milled about the tables or sat and chatted in the seats behind them, the centre of the hall was home to paired guests, dancing with their masques to musicians that played beyond. Events in Zeltiva had been chaotic as of late. And the previous year's Winter Ball was still fresh in people's minds - thievery, murder, and the sudden appearance of a Goddess. They all hoped for a more peaceful time. It was an event to unwind in, rest, socalise, and laugh. For the Zeltivans needed to laugh. Many guests were surprised by Maria's presence too. She stood talking with many Zeltivan figures, her hair in dark, beautiful ringlets, and figure hugged in a satin dress. There had been rumours of her relationships... with a sailor of all people. But it seemed she had come alone, and she held her masque at her side as if it were important the people saw her face.

[Valo]

Valo's flirtatious spirit truly flourished in environments such as these. Food and beautiful women filled the place. Such joy and dancing... and Valo loved to dance. He had come in his finest clothing, with his fire red hair combed neatly into a tail. Such pristine was his appearance. The black masque on his face only added to the elaborate manner with which he carried himself.

A group of young women sighed with awe as he walked past. Their star lit eyes fixed on him as if he was a particularly fine fruit. A red apple perhaps. He approached them and isolated a particularly fair lady with luscious dark ringlets, dressed in a blue satin gown which clung to her curves in all the right places. Her lashes fluttered from beneath her masque, as he took her slender hand and asked her to dance.

The music was particularly lovely and the sound of it filled Valo's ears as they twirled around the hall. A gentle waltz. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, the beat dictated their steps. But one dance was all he was prepared to give her. After all he had a clear purpose at this party; to make as many acquaintances as possible. If he was going to make a name for himself in this city, he needed to be known by everyone and anyone. And what better place to do so than the Winter Ball? Surely the extravagant colour of his hair will bring more attention than just a few girls.

He walked over to one of the tables adorned with food and drink. His back straight, perfect posture. It was important for Valo to carry him self as if he was a king, even though reality was much different. Satisfied with his choice of alcohol which now sat comfortably within his ivory hand, he leaned against a wall and watched as the event unfolded.

[Ignotus Everto]

It felt good to unwind. After a Fall filled with travel, mind-numbing tedium, harrowing near-death experiences, and perhaps a touch of the otherworldly, it practically went without saying that it was time for Ignotus to relax. With his pockets, for the first time in years, full of mizas (indeed, it was common knowledge that he had donated more than half his salary to the orphans of the city) and a cheerful, satisfied attitude, the Nuit bought himself some proper attire, freshened up his cabbage man's body, and entered the West Wing.

Ignotus was hardly recognizable from the mud caked corpse that had skipped off to Sahova. A white masque covered the top half of his face, and, in the spirit of excess that the ball invited, he was clad in a sweeping silver robe lined with intricate deep grey embroidery that shined like granite, and folds deep enough to smuggle Pycons in. A little much, especially for a Reimancer that could best be described as mediocre, perhaps, but he could afford to spoil himself a little, couldn't he?

White silk gloves as spotless as an untroubled heart covered his hands, and his boots had been cleaned of filth. A bright grin was slapped across his face, and he was thoroughly enjoying the impressed and, occasionally, awed looks that were directed in his direction. And if there was a little magic involved in the mystical air about him? No one really needed to be worried about that, now did they? What he was doing was perfectly harmless, really. Besides, he was barely doing anything at all. And if, on occasion, a young tramp skipped over to give the old corpse a hug, what of it?

Whimsy and minor Hypnotism aside, Ignotus actually felt... Good. Even better than when he was casting. For the first time since he could remember, he had plenty. He could afford to go to the Winter Ball and not look like a boor from East Street. Most important of all, he had the respect of his fellow man. It was strange. Normally, he was only this content when he was casting, and yet... He could not say it was a bad kind of strange, or an unwelcome change. It felt nice, being somebody.

Maria herself was here as well, and, apparently, dancing with some fellow with ridiculous red hair. Truly condemnable, really. It would only be performing the party-goers a favor to do something about that preposterous mane. Besides, Ignotus didn't like that smug look on the boy. It reminded him too much of... His own.

"Oh Ignotus, you're going to overgive before the night is out..." he lamented with a suppressed laugh to himself as he went about the business of examining the many different types of sherry to sample. Once he was about two yards away from Valo, he turned his attention to himself. To be precise, his astral body, and the locations where it connected to his bones. With a bit of willpower, and a lot of Djed, those connections were temporarily severed. His arm accordingly fell limp. Once that was done, removing the outer layer of his soul from his skin was quite easy. Eying the young man, Ignotus stretched his astral arm out, cupped the alcohol in the boy's glass in his "fingers"... And threw it on his hair. Childish? Yes. Amusing? Also yes.

In a chime, his astral arm was back where it belonged, and only an Aurist would be able to tell for certain what had happened. Perhaps wearing such an extravagant robe wasn't the best idea for deflecting suspicion in regard to jumping wine, though.

Ledger-65 GM for arcane robe+ silk gloves

[Ricky Maze]

Ricky would watch in content at all the fun and excitement that would resonate through out into the hall, the ball was indeed an exciting event he felt priveleged to attend to with it's masquerading dancers and social attenders. Ricky really hadn't felt the need to be in the midst of all this fun though considering that he couldn't dance, but still the humble bear took great pleasure in watching as the event would unfold. The people would spin and twirl in elegance to the sound of the music, while others would be away from the chaos of the dance as they would speak with one another, or enjoy the fine food and champagne. Ricky would observe the fine clothes men and women wore, as he found all of the unique colors and patterns to be rather eye catching. Mostly silk dresses or robes, with the occasional suit for the men of course, decorated these fine people. He found that their outfits were fit to resemble the trade they belonged to, while of course the masks were intended to reflect their personalities at best. What Ricky had decided to wear was his Wave Guard uniform, his badge of pride, to look his best. When he had arrived he was given a cerulean mask to wear to match with the fine color of his outfit, a rather small one that would only cover the eyes and nose; but decorated with fantastic feathers on the left side. They were a deep royal blue with eyes that would match a peacock's tail feather, a light hue of green that shone in the light. It was indeed a fine mask to match his comfy uniform, and he would do his best to look his part. Ricky stood by the window with but a glass of champagne, taking a drink every now and then to make it last for the time he stood. It's bubbly feel gave Ricky a slight tickle when it would travel down, the delicious flavor of white grape mixed with alcohol both cooperating to give him a generous warmth. This entire winter had been a unpredictable and long season for Ricky, as his coping with his loss been one that some would consider rather...wild. It was natural for those to react to a lost one in the ways Ricky did, but to actually act the way he did made Ricky feel somewhat regretful. Half the stuff he did he felt was beneath him mostly, but being under the influence of grief made him rather testy this season. Oh yes it was an adventure he would not forget, as he was now accepting the facts and moving to live for another day. Yet it was still difficult to do so, the bearings to wake up and keep moving through the day without his companion weren't easy to come by. Yet Ricky had done it last week and has been doing it since then, and he was finally going to take control of his life again soon. Pushing all the thoughts aside for later though he stood witness to the ball once morw, his mind returning to the ball that was presently before him. He caught a glimspe of Maria, the Lord of Council, without her mask on. He felt himself longing to speak with her as he wished to speak about his home, but such a topic was to be saved for official business. His house wasn't going anywhere in the time that would follow, and he wasn't going to ruin fun with trivial matters. No instead he would turn his eyes to the other people and watch, relaxing and enjoying the event as he would smile to those that would glance to him.

[Vincent Gorvald]

The cool night was a blessing to Vincent, yet the beads of sweat still collected on his brow. He felt very awkward and not just a little bit nervous. Vincent was determined in his course though, he had put alot of time and thought into his preparations for tonight it was finally time to be either accepted or shunned from Zeltiva.

The Winter Ball was touted to be a splendid event, full of lavish extravagance which belied the times they lived in, it gave the people of Zeltiva a chance to forget the poverty and harsh times and focus on living, if only for one night.

Vincent was certainly one for living, his loneliness and uncertainty over the past weeks had become what defined him as a person and he would finally be able to let it slide a little, let himself get swept up in the occasion. In his eyes he would never be able to hide the fear he felt but in his movement and his interactions with the others at the Ball he could be seen to be having the time of his life.

Vincent was dressed in his finest, but that really wasnt saying much. Vincent only had a few possessions and not many of those were clothes. He still made sure his clothes were clean, neat and in a reasonable state of repair but that was all that could be said. It certainly didn't help with his feelings of being out of place. Vincent did have his Longsword at his hip, he thought it a mark of respect to his father and the most formal acessory that he owned that managed to add at least a small manner of decorum to his outfit. Vincent wasn't sure if he would have to check the weapon in at the door but he just felt more comfortable with it nearby. A symbol of the Sylirian Knights, this Longsword was the only thing which attached him to his past and as such he felt it gave him personality.

Vincent walked to the Ball through the cool streets of Zeltiva, passing now familiar landmarks he went over what he was going to say in his head, over and over and over. Before he knew it he was appoaching the hall and starting to see more and more people as they funneled into the hall from surrounding streets.

Vincent loosley held his sword in his left hand to stop it tripping him up as he mounted the stairs and approached the entrance.

[Vincent Gorvald]

Vincent's hand clenched around his sword as he walked through the grand entrance but no one paid it any mind and he freely walked into the hall to carry on with the nights festivities. In-fact Vincent spotted several other gentlemen with swords at their hip, putting Vincents mind at ease.

The second blessing of the night for Vincent came in the form of a black half-mask which he was given to wear. Hiding behind the mask Vincent was filled with a brazen kind of courage and he was able to forget for a moment, who he was, the pressing business which occupied his thoughts over the Winter and focus on the revelry, dancing, and food to be had.

That was certainly Vincents first stop, he hadn't been eating too well of late and champagne, athough not his style, made a fine change from the Kelp beer at the local establishments.

Vincent stood idly by the tables and picked at the food while trying not to look uncivilised.

[Calen]

Unlike many of his fellow Zeltivans and even less like his fellow university students, Calen had no purpose within the city. Having been born into a moderately wealthy family, Calen's entire life had basically been handed to him, with only the most daunting of tasks requiring any sort of effort on his part. He had been lucky from the day he was born, but it seemed, in one regard, he was among the most unfortunate; Calen had yet to feel the touch of a female upon his flesh. In his eighteen years, Calen had never slept with, kissed or even held a human of the opposite sex; tonight, he aimed to remedy that situation. Unfortunately, he had not gotten dressed with his goal in mind.

Never having been one to prepare for pretty much anything, it would get in the way of his inherently psuedo-hedonistic lifestyle, Calen had come in significantly less elegant clothing than some of his counterparts. As far as he knew, there was no dress code to be enforced and as such, he had come in what he wore whenever he did anything; a plain, white cotton shirt with a black leather jacket thrown over and two pairs of wool pants. The reason for the wool pants was simply that Calen always found his genitals got a bit too chilly for his liking during this time of year; an obviously unacceptable occurrence considering the circumstances for the evening.

The walk here had been windier than he had expected but, miraculously, Calen's hair had managed to sustain its bed-mangled appearance, with a prominent cow-lick pointing up and ahead. He had chosen to don his black mask and was making his way through out a particularly crowded part of the hall, jostling anyone who refused to move due to his barely audible muttering of 'scuse me'. Having made his way over to a table which seemed to be packed with refreshments Calen burst into laughter, reaching out to clap the shoulder of the crimson haired figure to his left.

"Excellent party huh?" he muttered to what he assumed, was the man. There was something distinctly familiar about him, but Calen couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

NoteI felt this thread was in desperate need of some blatant immaturity and crass behavior

[Valo]

Valo didn't even manage to have a good sip of his alcohol, before the pale liquid jumped out of it's glass and soaked his hair; rendering the neat bright red now an equally as impressive, but far less comfortable,dark crimson. With a silent gasp, Valo had dropped his grass which shattered on the floor, thankfully muted a little by the sound of conversation and laughter. The last thing he wanted to do was to make a scene at something so... silly.

But one man from the crowd would not let this accident go unnoticed. He roared with laughter, touching Valo's back in a was which made him a little uncomfortable to say the least. But after a moment, he too saw the humour in this situation and smiled politely. "Indeed great it is." he answered in the most dignified, yet friendly of ways. "Providing of course that all this alcohol doesn't suddenly grow legs and escape out the door. My name is Valo by the way. Lovely to meet you." he introduced him self, holding out a slender hand.

But there was a thought that had lodged it self so deep into Valo's mind, that he could not help but allow it to distract him a little. That was no ordinary accident. The drink had literally jumped out of the glass, off it's own accord. And there was no coherent explanation as to why this would happen. Of course Valo hadn't noticed the Nuit who cause all this; and even if he did he would have mistaken him for any other ordinary man. There wasn't an ounce of magic in Valo's blood.

[Ricky Maze]

He watched and actually took notice of two men, one being Valo, laugh and greet one another after a simple accident. It was good to know that people were enjoying the little things, such a time when he never thought about how they important they were seemed most important to Ricky now. As he took down the last drink of his champagne his smile turned into a frown however, as he looked to sea and empty glass. Not a good sign considering this past season his entire actions were based on drunken stupidity. That was all of his own accord though, in dealing with his grief all winter never-the-less. Still an empty glass wasn't one that pleased a recovering acoholic, and though Ricky wasn't really addicted to the booze like he waa he still enjoyed a drink or two. Champagne, on the other had, was too good to pass up. As Ricky made his way around some of the small crowds that huddled together he moved to the table of festivites, the georgous food and drink a temptation for revelry. Yet Ricky wasn't going to indulge in revelry just yet, no he would only drink his champagne like a gentleman he truly was; he was after all setting an example. The Wave Guard uniform was that example indeed, for even though his previous actions were downright unnecessary for his badge he still felt a sense of purpose behind it. He was here to indulge in the fun too, while at the same time become something of his original self. There was no way to be the same, that he had accepted not too long ago. Accepting his dog's fate was far more difficult, but given the circumstances that followed he was now accepting that too. Ricky was alive. He had lived to see another day, and what do you know. He is here at this very moment, getting another drink of champagne. As the bubbly gold liquid was now poured in Ricky was ready for it to serve its purpose; to make him feel bubbly as well! He would take another small drink from the glass, moving away from the table in a gracefully, if not a tad bit tipsy, manner. He would enjoy watching the people once more, as they would dance and socialize with one another.

[Trente]

His growth over the last year made no progress at stifling Trente's desire to cater to his gallant nature. The winter ball still attracted him like a moth to a flame, as it had the bloody year before. If anything, he felt more confident as he strapped his rapier to his side and prepared for the event with no less then several bells of preparation.

Though clad in his normal attire, clearly worn Ravokian finery far superior in quality than the layfolk sailors of the city, and the robe clad students. His skin had consumed the majority of time as he prepared, applying overtly theatrical makeup, utterly unabashed and aware that he would need to make space for a concealing mask. Upon arrival he selected with some contemplation a porcelain specimen painted a crude white which has through multiple uses faded in purity. With figured of flying prey and a face Trente could not know skirting the rim, it seemed bold and so he carefully applied it to his head using the white satin draw strings to tie to simply. These ornaments played across his otherwise simple outfit with elegant and more than slightly pretentious flare. He was aware of the statement it made to others as he prepared for the night, and how many of the citizens would find his attire without a certain element of savoirfaire. This laid far from a worry in his mind, for he has confidence that an equal amount to the small minded and judgmental sailors in attendance would be a portion of his audience that understood that true graceful etiquette was found not in the drab mundane and horribly traditional styles of pseudo-prevalterian fashion, but in a truly inspired spark of fresh inspiration. This of course, was his style.

Valo was not the only young man attempting an air of grace, though despite his appearance Trente could no truthfully claim the title of a young man, he harnessed along side this fact an advantage. His age had given him time to refine his coordination, and so with trained step and proud demeanor he entered and paused, silently catching the eyes of several acquaintances and strangers alike in the crowd. He was far from famous in the city, but he had announced himself and his Association to the entire hall the year before. A time none present would ever forget. His mask could not hide the recognition on their faces. Was he a reminder of that travesty, that unrest, or was he a reprieve? He assumed the citizens had mixed feelings.

These eyes all shifted, a moment later, and Trente knew that his speech last season would no long be the topic of discussion. No, of course not.

With a simple, yet truthfully unsettling and ill fit black mask contorting his appearance into that of a snarling wolf, a child stepped from the hallway posterior to Trente. The miniature form stood awkwardly draped in a fine fur cloak20+gm, the heavy hood still drawn up upon his head from the cold. Delicate exposed hands grasped at the closing, trying to hold the heat in.

Trente allowed those that could not know of the child to absorb the fact, then he proceeded into the room toward the refreshments. This year, however, he did not transverse the room unhindered as a contrast. Associate members engaged him, treating him with more prestige then he perhaps had earned, for which Trente gave no resistance.

He got to know the individuals who he had never met in person, and made a general show of the camaraderie of the group. Much as he noted the wave guard uniforms gathering in another corner of the floor.