Gathering: Masquerade Ball

[concierge]

A large sign placed prominently in the Nexus lobby reads:

The Nexus Hotel
proudly presents the
MARDI GRAS MASQUERADE BALL

Event Location
Nexus Dining Hall
8 PM - 2 AM

Masquerade dress recommended, but not required for all guests

The Dining Hall's central table and chairs had been removed to create a dance floor wide enough to accommodate fanciful masquerade costumes. On one end had been placed a long bar providing free drinks, and on the other a small chamber orchestra providing the music for dancing. The entire room was bedecked in gold bunting and twinkling candlelight, and masks were available for those guests who hadn't brought their own.

Comments

[temperamentalsteel]

There was a peculiar novelty in attending a masque as a guest rather than standing at the edges in his regalia, on alert for assassins, bombs, or some other mischief. Tonight, he was here as d'Artagnan only, not as a guard or Musketeer, and so he delighted in a glass of wine whilst wearing a leather mask stamped with the pattern of leaves. It was only a token attempt at disguise as the mask only covered his cheeks and forehead, but d'Artagnan had found a matching cape that hung down to his hips and rippled appropriately as he moved.

Strange as this hotel might be, on evenings like this, d'Artagnan thought it must not be so bad.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos does not have a mask, given that he finds the whole purpose silly and pointless. He is, however, pleased with the availability of free drinks. Athos has never had trouble affording them, but the concept of them being given away is a pleasure. It is in such a drunk state that he finds d'Artagnan, holding one hand out to the nearest wall for balance as he approaches the boy, only swaying somewhat.

"I see you have found your way to the party," he notes. "And as yourself, even."

[temperamentalsteel]

"And you've found your way to the drinks," d'Artagnan observed, careful of Athos' swaying gait. Depending on how deeply he'd gotten into his cups, Athos might prove intractable and in deed of a bucket for dousing his own head.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos raises the bottle of wine without saying a word and drinks straight from the neck without defending his actions or saying anything about them. He wonders why this is surprising to d'Artagnan, but doesn't say anything about that either. "It's a good Aramis isn't here," he says to change the topic. "Or we'd be stuffed in at mass before chasing him away from women."

[nebaritralk]

Chiana had been working on a dress for just this sort of event, and she was glad for the occasion to wear it. It was black, hooded, and for once did not emphasise her cleavage. She wore it with dark leggings and her usual flat boots, although she had for once left her gloves in her room. She had grabbed a simple mask at the entrance; she hadn't known she'd need one, and she was glad for the freebie.

Of course, as soon as she arrived, she made a beeline for the drinks buffet.

[praiseandglory]

Masques weren't exactly Porthos's usual scene. He was much more at ease in raucous taverns than anywhere courtly. But of course he'd attended his fair share, although never as anything but a Musketeer. That was how he showed up that night, dressed in full Musketeer regalia, pauldron on his shoulder, sword at his hip, and blue cloak across his shoulders - but no hat. He had found a mask that matched his cloak in the ones provided for the guests, and as soon as he had secured a glass of wine, he looked around for his friends.

[armedagainstlove]

It so happens that masques are one of Athos' favoured things in that he despises them, but the liquor is always freely flowing on these evenings. It's not difficult to find Porthos in such a din, but perhaps it might be a touch problematic in that he's beyond the usual level of tipsiness that he maintains. He manages not to stumble as he finds Porthos (Athos is sans masque, given that he does not believe in such things), but does not find that problematic.

"You're easy to spot, despite the mask," he informs Porthos. "It suits your cloak, however."

[praiseandglory]

"Um," comes the noise of surprise at the fact that Athos would be remarking on what Porthos was wearing. "Thank you," he adds with an amused frown and a confused half-smile. Not that confused; it's easy to lay the blame for that at the feet of the culprit, the very beverage contained in the glass Porthos is bringing to his own lips. "You've partaken of the wine."

What he means is: a lot, as is Athos's custom.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos raises his brow in response, given that he imagines it would be more of a shock had he not. He is still standing and for the most part is still steady, so he sees no reason as to why he shouldn't be partaking. "Yes," he finally agrees, and quite a lot of it, to his great delight. "Not the best I've ever had, but far more suitable than some in Paris," he says with slow consideration.

[the_dawnster]

Porthos is here at the masque and so is Dawn. She isn't going to presume that he remembers some random girl he'd met outside close to the gardens. But she remembers him in all of his uniqueness. It isn't everyday that she runs across someone of time and manner like Porthos is.

She sidles up beside him and just stands there for a bit, mask in place with her hair pulled into a side braid. She has a pretty dress on and killer shoes that will probably come off eventually because what are heels.

"Well don't you look spiffy." She says. Full Musketeer regalia? Yes, spiffy.

[praiseandglory]

It takes Porthos a minute to place the voice and what he can see of the face behind the mask, after he's done wondering what spiffy might mean. That helps, actually; the young woman had been particularly difficult to understand at times.

"Mademoiselle Dawn," he greets her with a smile, and a half bow, once he recognises her. "I hope spiffy's a good thing."

[the_dawnster]

"Spiffy is a more copacetic way of saying you look hot." She says blatantly with a nod. "So yeah, spiffy is good."

She can't help the large smile that creeps onto her lips as he uses the title 'mademoiselle'. It just makes her much happier than it should. Really, Dawn was generally a pretty easily amused individual. It didn't take much. And Porthos calling her 'Mademoiselle Dawn' was just one of those things she would probably never get over.

"Settling in okay? How've you been?" She asks.

[tooktheblack]

Jon had learned about this particular holiday during his stay on the island. Mardi Gras was one of the magical parties where food and drink were unending and anything could be obtained - but only until midnight. He was eager to see if that would be the case here in the Nexus and he dressed appropriately - in a dark suit and a mask with a wolf's face. Only appropriate.

One of the first tables he went to had drinks and he picked one that resembled the hard cider that Robb so liked to brew.

[the_dawnster]

Dawn has been standing across the room for awhile staring at Jon. Yes, she's knows it's rude to stare and it isn't really that she's ogling him mostly. She's just trying to decide what is mask might be. Fox, wolf, dog, sloth... okay, that last one was stretching it a bit. But nevertheless, Jon is being watched. Sorry, Jon.

It takes a lot of talking herself into it before Dawn works up the bravery to confront him and just ask. She's all dressed up for the night. Her mask that of a butterfly.

"Hi. So, uhm... you're a fox." She only realizes how that might sound after it's out of her mouth. Then she instantly backpedals, her porcelain features getting redder and redder by the second.. "I mean... not like hot. That wasn't a come on, it was just... you know. A fox, like the animal."

[tooktheblack]

"It was meant to be a wolf," Jon said, touching the edges of his mask lightly. "I thought that would be appropriate, considering the sigil of my father's house. Do you really think it looks like a fox instead?"

Judging from how the woman colored, Jon thought perhaps she had another meaning but he could not quite determine what that meaning was.

[the_dawnster]

"Ohhhh!" Dawn says with a nod, her eyes wide and scrutinizing as she looks over the mask again in a new light. Sure, just the mask. That's all she's looking at. But given the truth of it, she can see it's a wolf now. "I see it now. Definitely a wolf."

Not a fox. Way to embarrass yourself, Dawn. Good job. "So the sigil of your house, huh? That's all... purposeful and profound." Her reasoning for choosing a butterfly was nothing so great as his.

[safeashouses]

Mardi Gras wasn't something I was ever familiar with back home. I was too young before the world went all to shit and I didn't live in New Orleans besides. But Nick was born and raised in New Orleans and I felt like I owed it to him to embrace the lifestyle, even if it was only for a night.

Besides, it was kind of fun to dress up in an actual dress and mask and feel feminine for a little while. I was a hard worker and a runner - athletic and strong came to mind but feminine? Hardly ever.

[silverandcold]

Elsa still found crowds made her nervous, but every passing day that she spent at the hotel--especially with Anna present--lessened her fear. Where she might have hidden from Shrove Tuesday celebrations in the past, tonight she let herself be bold in the guise of a fairy. Even though she wore a mask, Elsa was certain that her pale blonde hair would give her away to her friends, but she found it didn't matter.

The whole point of this place was that she'd learned to be herself, even in fancy dress.

[twicefrozen]

"Elsa, you look beautiful." Anna keeps her voice low in case Elsa wanted her costume to be a secret but there's no hiding that this is her sister - even if it's in a way that Anna has never seen her before.

For her part, she has on a green and gold mask that she thinks looks nice with her hair. She hopes.

[silverandcold]

Elsa laughed, soft and delighted, just because she could. Every day that she saw Anna happy and free was a day that made Elsa breathe a little easier and trust herself more.

"You too," she said, reaching out to tuck a loose curl away from Anna's face. "Green's always been your color." Whenever she'd peeked out into the hallway, Anna had always seemed to wear green. "It sets off your hair." Especially with that little streak gone.

[of_mirkwood]

"Vanya onna."

Legolas was taken aback by how simply beautiful Elsa was in her chosen costume and while she did not look anything like her usual self, there was no mistaking that fair hair for anyone else. He had attended a masque before back in his own home but it seemed different here in the Nexus - a different energy.

He'd donned a blue and silver tunic and a silver circlet for the occasion, court wear at its finest, and paired them with a blue and silver mask to match.

"Forgive me, I find it difficult to speak Common when I am so overcome. My own tongue comes to me first."

[silverandcold]

Elsa was very glad for the mask because it helped cover up the blush that was rising to her cheeks. Legolas looked similarly grand in some of Elsa's favorite colors and she couldn't help her smile, curtseying as wide as her skirt allowed.

"Overcome by what?" she asked, just a little shy and cautious. "You look like someone out of a fairy story. The handsome prince, maybe."

[phrynefisher]

Gold. Gold was the shade and theme of the hour.

While it was a pity she had not been able to acquire a new costume for the masquerade, her tailor being hardly within reach at the moment, it was hardly the first time she had improvised. Not to mention, surely the others in the hotel would excuse her for replaying a gown already used at an earlier affair. The dress was a glittering, shimmering gold concoction that caught the light with every movement, and one she delighted in wearing while dancing out of a love of that very effect.

She'd idled only a moment over the offering of masks before using a gilded filigree piece to tie on, willing enough to forsake her planned effect at least enough to take up the spirit of the evening. The spirit, right along with a glass of champagne once she'd tied on her mask and gone wandering through that massive, gorgeous hall.

"Now," she told the person nearest to her conversationally, "Isn't this just delightful?"

[praiseandglory]

"It's something alright," Porthos agreed, with a smile for the scantily clad lady. He'd learned, since coming here, that ladies tended to dress in all manners of outrageous outfits, but that it was perfectly acceptable where and when they were from.

Not that he had anything against scantily clad ladies. On the contrary.

"I'm Porthos," he introduced himself, giving her a half bow. "Of the King's Musketeers."

[phrynefisher]

The advantage of her height, she had learned, was that there were few men she could not meet the eyes of evenly. If, that was, her eyes didn't wander elsewhere first. Hers might have gotten sidetracked from the start with the man she'd addressed if not for the rather pleasing smile he gave her in reply. There was the smile, of course, and the striking set of his features in that first glance, and then there was the note of the fact that she would need to lift her chin just a little to look him in the eye.

He was big and he was broad and, my, wasn't that scar across his eye something that leant him a rakish air the pull of his smile did nothing to dissipate.

"A Musketeer?" she echoed, watching him bow and easily deciding she could get used to that sort of greeting. "Would that be for tonight, or do you mean to be one every night?" If her smile was more than a little impish and her eyes lingered on him more directly than was strictly polite, well, that was a shame. Wasn't it? "Phryne," she replied, smile still in place as she held out her hand. "Of the adventurer's society, if I have to claim an allegiance."