wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 2, SCENE 1

[libraryassistants]

Who: Readers and Actors, everyone who is invited (and those who are not).
What: The event of the century, the Umbra Ball, is about to begin.
When: The night of the ball itself, and a slice of the morning after. [ooc timeline: Feb 6th - 19th]
Where: The city of Montica and the Umbra Mansion.
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers.


Waxing Gibbous Moon

The sun begins to set, and the city of Montica buzzes in anticipation. Vendors close their stalls early - the consensus being that there is no point in running a night market tonight. The streets empty, houses and shops shuttered as eager folk stream up to the mansion.

A few industrious salespeople can be found on the way up to the mansion, selling masks and accessories for any last-minute needs. There is a rumour filtering through the people that a dress code is being strictly enforced, and the clan are supplying masks of silver for anyone who does not bring their own - a concept that delights some and stirs trepidation in others.

The Umbra Mansion almost glows above the city, light spilling from its open doors onto its perfectly manicured lawns and drive. After the sun sets, the metal shutters on the windows are lifted and the curtains are drawn back; and the night sky, in its star-studded glory, paints a picturesque view for the party-goers inside.

The strings of a waltz ring clearly, echoing out into the streets in joyful invitation. Not everyone will be allowed in - some will remain out here, rejected by the doorstaff or content to create their own festivities.

[The Masquerade]

For those who make the cut, the masquerade itself is staffed by humans and vampires and is separated into 2 distinct parties.

The first, for the ‘common’ folk. Those without formal invitations, who are free to mingle and be awed. They are greeted at the doors to the main entry hall - doors that will remain open for the duration of the masquerade. Human doormen (and women) do cursory checks before bowing visitors through, doing their best to keep everyone in line. (No weapons, dress standards met, no obvious werewolves.) Anyone who hasn’t brought their own mask will be offered one here. Silver, of course, and the expectation is that you will wear it.

A pair of grand staircases awaits past the doors, framing a magnificent chandelier. Guarding each staircase is a well-dressed servant. They’re making no secret of their too-sharp teeth or the red tinting their irises, and to get upstairs you’ll have to present an invitation. Gilded in real silver, these invites are only for the elite or those favoured by the vampiric aristocracy. These stairs lead first to a mezzanine; one that encircles the grand ballroom below, framing the common people’s masquerade. Arched doorways connect the mezzanine further to the sprawl of the mansion - in particular, to the private sitting rooms where sensitive… ‘business’ can be conducted. So too does it connect to wide balconies that overlook the garden, providing entertainment for those above.

The downstairs ballroom, lined by this mezzanine, is where the band of musicians plays. Waitstaff roam the sides of the room, balancing trays of canapes and wine. The doors along one side of the ballroom have been opened, allowing attendees to slip away into the expansive garden.

[The Garden]

Intricate stonework lines paths through the gardens, weaving around precisely planned flowerbeds. Stone lanterns light the way along the paths, providing opportunities for self-guided strolls. There are many quiet areas to be found here; whether it’s in the shelter of a small gazebo surrounded by fragrant lavender, or on a bench nestled beneath an arch of wisteria.

But don’t get too comfortable in your perceived solitude. The balcony of the mezzanine overlooks these gardens almost in full - the risk of being seen is never zero.

Out here, in perfect view of those mezzanine balconies and completely accessible to those on the ground floor, is a raised platform that acts as a stage. Here it is planned for a performance from The Crystal Ermine Troupe to take place: ‘The Tin Soldier’s March, or the Tragedie of Ierico and his Harlequin.’ There is nothing stopping other would-be entertainers from taking to the stage when it is not in use - assuming, of course, that they are not put off by the dozens of sharp red eyes watching them from above.

[The Hedge Maze]

A large, complicated hedge maze sits centered in the garden; its width almost as vast as the mansion itself. Vines of moonflowers grow across it, almost seeming to glow in the moonlight. As the night goes on and the partygoers tire of dancing, they may find themselves filtering out here - where a sense of renewed excitement permeates the air.

There is a game that some vampires like to play. Its origins are obvious, but its modern iteration is - usually - a touch less gory than decades past.

It begins with a human. An eager competitor, a jibing friend, or a flustered lover. Someone who takes a head start into the maze, blood and adrenaline pumping as they race to find its centre before time is up.

And it then continues with the vampire who begins their pursuit through the thick hedges at the set time. Employing their senses to track their quarry, they seek to capture the human before they succeed in reaching the maze’s safe centre.

For some, this is a simple game played for fun. For others, it’s an opportunity to demonstrate their skills - for up on that balcony are the aristocracy. If one can prove their wit and skill, they may find themselves with offers for greater power than they currently possess.

[The Morning After]

As the sun begins to rise, the party winds down. The vampires begin to retire to their sun-secluded dens as the many coverings on the mansion windows are redrawn. There are some human guests that might stay a bit longer, but all visitors are ejected by the time that dawn truly breaks. The staff, however, still have clean-up ahead of them - and a few extra helpers certainly won’t be noticed. Any attempt to breach the vampire’s sleeping areas will draw attention, however; so best to keep to the mansion itself.

And while the ball has been underway… some werewolves have made some fun of their own.

[The day will continue in Log 3.]

[Info post here and most recent plotting post here!]

Comments

Claire Ryland > The Luna Purpure, Claire Ryefield, and The Blood Moon Troupe - Actor, and Actor

[keytarheroine]

I - The Play's The Thing - Shout out to the back, the lonely ones, at the end of the world now, their time has come.
A blonde woman who is very obviously not the redheaded Sara Iscandar is dressed in a tinkerer's smock with tools on her belt and a luxurious fake beard of the same blond as her hair - as a ravenblack haired woman who could not possibly be the famously green-haired Hannah Eldriver, with a mustache of the same black as the long hair she is NOT wearing in a ponytail, turns away a in dark military coat with epaulets.

Behind them, eyes closed, pretending to limpness, as a newly built clockwork harlequin, is Kara Churchland, who given her strawberry blond ponytail could not possibly be Claire Ryefield, waiting for her cue.

The woman playing Maester Ierico, who is not the Luna Gules let's pretend I always spelled it correctly without the I, okay? Okay. monologues:

Ierico's Lament

"Diligently digging for iron, my sire
Spent his life, til that coin was spent entire.
The mines did make of him a widower
And of his son, the orphan Ierico.
At his very grave I therefore did vow:
If I could set things right, I would learn how.
I learned the arts of forge and fired steel,
And how to set it spinning with a cogwheel,
And set her with armored plates and springs,
So she shrugged off the pits' infernal slings.
And accomplish with those iron gauntlets
What the strength of ten mortal men could not...

How long has Mankind waited for this day,
That one would take from Death his power to slay?
That no son would ever more have to say,
There lies my father, worked into his grave!"

At the end of the soliliquy, Claire twitches, as if dreaming and not inert.

It seems to be a story about two artificers, both obsessed with creating a race of clockworks: Maester Ierico would have them do dangerous or demanding jobs, but Maester Conkle would use them as the tin soldiers of the play's name - and Claire was playing Ierico's first creation, a latter day Galatea to his Pigmalion, the Clockwork Harlequin.

That it is called a tragedy implies it will end in blood, fire, and tears; with the death of Ierico and Conkle, and at least the dissolution of the Harlequin, if not her destruction.

2 - Interlude Mingling and Refreshments - What’s it like to be like you? What it’s like to be beautiful and true?
...this is hard work, hungry and thirsty, the makeup to make Claire look like a creature of tin and brass and steel is hot and she's glad of the ices and cordials and canapes. Hopefully the heavy clove and rose perfume she wears will mask the scent of a wolf on her. The moon is bright, but not yet full, thank the Gods.

And so, she mingles, trying to sniff out any other wolves or anyone she knows, well aware that she owes Sigrid Guidulf the explanation that Lady Amalia bid her give about the whereabouts of the mother they, in a sense, share...

3 - Music Requests - Join a band and play guitar, and play it loud it isn’t hard, being young is fun the second time around
Claire has her harp, and the rest of the party to do, and so she's busking as she's used to, taking requests. If you want to hear Shakespeare Does Flavor Foley that ditty about the German guy who' happy about the birdsong, don't ask about his ex, he's fine, he's fine one of the many songs in Claire's repertoire, you need only ask for something.

3 hope this works?

[angel_of_baal]

Sigwulf is out of place at the party. VERY out of place, but he had told his father he would attend to try to hopefully keep the tensions from the city outside into spilling over into this event.

He was not much of an authority figure, but he was the Guidulf second, and that carried some weight, at least.

It had been a great idea but the execution...less than great because he forgot how bad he was at large groups of people. So he gravitated to the familiar, partly because he knew her, and partly because listening to music meant not having to converse as much.

"Could you play something she liked?" No need to specify who 'she' was: his mother. Perhaps he could share some part of her through her musical taste.

Mingling

[terraboo]

Armin the Fool, for much of the party, is intentionally trying to cut Claire a fair bit of berth - not because she doesn't want to be seen around her, but as so neither interrupts the other's performances.

Fortunately, eventually, she catches the actress while she's getting some much-needed water.

"Doth the night serve thee well, fair harlequinadierette?"

Oh she's up to constructing words now. Can Laina get drunk? Or is she just very, very good at faking it?

2

[goodtobebad]

"I've never understood the thing with tragedies," Tony says nonchalantly, offering her a glass of punch. He's already got one of his own. He's slunk out from some shadow somewhere, keeping himself to the edges of the festivities, not making a spectacle. He didn't leave his employment on the best of terms with the Umbra family, but no one knows the grounds like he does, so it's not difficult for him to escape notice.

"Happy endings are more my style."

3

[codeswitchcraft]

"'What Is A Youth?'" Sigrid requests, when she has the chance to. (Someone else was playing the instrumental version of it earlier, when Claire might have spotted her dancing with Nero Umbra.)

OTA one very out of place werewolf

[angel_of_baal]

the Moon
The moon sure is mooning and he can already feel the call of the moon in his blood, and he knows the other werewolves can as well. It's why everyone's temper is so short, especially with the location of the planets in the zodiac.

It is a dangerous time. And he feels like a fool, knowing his brothers and sisters of the Fang and Claw are watching him as he crosses the market square, dressed in fancy dress--velvet breeches and a gold embroidered vest, the mask held loose in his hand, and two bone knives tucked, just in case, in his boots.

He could have brought the wooden weapons used against...their kind. He could have brought a vial of the special water they despise. But he was not, at heart, a killer, much to his father's eternal disappointment. He would fight, but avoid killing. And he hoped that his bone knives could stay sheathed. Unless someone tries something foolish....

Masquerade
They had let him enter, fearing, probably the repercussions of refusing the second child of the Guidulf family. He could feel more eyes upon him, curious, hostile, some mocking.

He's not trying to hide who or what he is--that would defeat the purpose and the message to other wolves who may have infiltrated this place. Still, he's glad for the cover of the wolf mask he wore, which covered most of his face, and hopefully most of the worried furrows of his brows.

Sigwulf holds a glass of wine without drinking it, giving it a cautious sniff. "Is this...just wine?" Because, you know, his hosts might prefer a, well, spiked beverage.

At another point, holding up the wall starts to feel conspicuous and hardly lets him see what's going on, so he reaches out a hand to whoever comes near. His father, if nothing else, had insisted he and his sister be taught manners. "Shall we dance?"

wildcard

((hit him up at any point, throw something at me! Or him, lol))

The Masquerade Wine

[terraboo]

"I mean, the alternative is that it's something that, if most swallow a lot of, would cause them to rather swiftly vomit."

Armin the Fool is probably someone Sigwulf's run into a time or two before. Remarks often pointed, always trying to be humorous.

"The condition of my tights is very pleased that it's not that sort of party, and that I'm pretty sure that sort of party doesn't exist. Also, vomitoriums are just places to exit, the idea that the highest of the Eldfolk literally vomited out food so they could eat more is fiction."

She's going into half-disconnected rambly thoughts trying to provoke a laugh or at least a bit of bafflement - which can be good for soothing some nerves. Notably, she seems disinterested in starting anything.

what up my liege (masquerade)

[unsheathedfromreality]

While he might have intended to dance with a stranger, the one Sigwulf reaches out to is very strange indeed -- clad all in enshrouding black, hooded and veiled so only the least flash of golden eyes is visible of their face, and decorated at wrist and ankle with costume gold bangles.

They also don't hesitate but a moment to take the heir's offered hand.

(Does Illarion know who this is outside the Story? Doubtful. But it's an opportunity to find out.)

"Gladly. You will teach me? I am foreign, to this place." The voice, at least, might be masculine -- high tenor, or low alto. All the black makes anything else about the person hard to tell.

Though they smell dead, though not like a vampire might -- unless some of Montica's vampires smell of ocean brine and new-shed tears.

Masquerade

[newmemorywhodis]

There's a bit of hesitation, before Loic nods. (And Sigwulf will know it is Loic. Even if Loic doesn't spend a lot of time a a human, Sigwulf will know their family's silent guardsman and his sister's friend enough to recognise him.)

The hand that grips Sigwulf's is tight, and there's a trace of anxiety in Loic's scent. At an event like this - lots of people, him having to be in human form - it seems that Loic is rather nervous.

It's a bit different from his usual calm, collected demeanour.

Masquerade

[lightsgift]

Cinthe is doing her best to be good company, while also mindful of her companion's duties and need for space. Still, in her peacock-themed finery she presents a very striking figure, and between carefully considered glasses of sparkling (white) wine, she's there close at hand to talk, observe, and, of course, to dance.

She doesn't mind the looks overly much, knowing very well that she's a mystery, and that she's on the arm of a rather...contentious figure in this particular circumstance. She's used to stares in her normal appearance, and she's not going to let it bother her.

Much.

So when Sigwulf offers his hand, she accepts it with a delicate flourish and a smile. "Of course. Since we're here, right?" Her lavender eyes behind the shiny, feathered mask scan the floor idly, judging the space, but the music playing suits her just fine and she steps lightly, easily into the sway of a simple waltz.

At some point in the night --

[ultimateedgehog]

It's been a good couple of hours, but the werewolf in the ballroom wasn't going to remain unaddressed forever. Shadow is going to blame Armin's distraction for his delay.

Sigwulf may feel the ominous aura before he actually sees the Lord Umbra. It may manifest as the heavy feeling of being watched, or like a sense of dread or foreboding prickling in the air. Whatever it feels like, it's the result of psychic pressure being leveraged in his direction; and as the Umbra are renowned for their psychic abilities, that in itself may be an early signal of whose attention he's caught.

But when Lord Umbra approaches, it's by his own two feet. No overt shows of power, no blatant misuse of shadows. He's pissed off, but he's a stickler for his own rules - and he won't be the one who starts a fight. No, instead Sigwulf is going to get the Montica Vampire Special: biting words and acidic glares, the weapons that Shadow has demanded his court arm themselves with in lieu of actual violence.

"You've made a brave choice tonight." He says curtly. His tone indicates he doesn't think it's brave so much as an obvious taunt, and his sharp eyes are critical as he looks over the man. Wolf. Man-Wolf. (Contentious mask aside, assessing the rest of his formalwear. Has Sigwulf dressed well for the ball?)

The Masquerade

[bashasasdemon]

Kai does not want to be here, but he is here all the same. His relationship with the vampire clans is... tenuous, but it exists, and to not show up would be much worse. So here he is, a fellow for Sigwulf in holding up the wall.

His own mask conceals his eyes but not his mouth, and from the lower half of his face alone Sigwulf can tell the man is looking at him with a mix of confusion and irritation. "No," he says flatly, not moving from his position against the wall with his arms crossed. (He does get points for boldness, at least- wearing a wolf mask to the vampire's party? Well, bold or stupid."

Nero (Nara'a) | Actor: Vampire Scion

[aetherweaver]

Before the Ball - limited to those in the Umbra household

Nero is anxious, more than he has been in his life or unlife. He isn't shaking, as much as he would like to - but he's clearly got a lot on his mind as he's flitting around, making sure all of the decorations are in place, the servants have their orders, those who need correcting are corrected.

All must be in place, because his sire is depending on it.

He stops occasionally to have a rest when it's insisted to him, but his mind is still clearly on the ball. He's never been to one before, so how is he supposed to know - forget it. He tries to put such thoughts from his mind as he continues to prepare, from early in the evening to just before the ball. He needs to get himself ready, as well.


The Masquerade

Having changed into a rather ornate jacket and handsome mask, Nero moves through the party, occasionally dipping down to the area of the common folk - but he spends much of his time up with those who have been specifically invited. They are the ones he needs to impress, after all. Those who have business with him will tell him, and he is occasionally pulled into a private sitting room by one representative of a clan or another.

He hates it. The only clan that need rule here is Umbra, and they know it. Trade agreements are more of his sire's thing, but there's plenty of reason to flatter the young heir, after all.

When he's not being dragged off for one reason or another he's... attempting to enjoy himself. It's rare that he gets to speak to so many different people from near and far, and there's plenty of people to speak to. Different voices, different dialects... all here for a ball that he put together.

He's got reason to be proud, and he tries to give himself room to feel it.


The Garden

Nero has little interest in the maze - he's got no one he has reason to hunt - but the garden paths allow a small respite. Small, despite him knowing he's being watched by the sharp eyes of those above, those with real power.

But the Umbra heir knows these paths, and knows them well. He knows what spots are hidden from view, if one is careful. How many times has he hidden himself in this place when he was panicked as a younger man? He could always be tracked down by those with better senses than himself at the time, but in the chaos of the ball he can allow himself a few moments to himself.

He breathes. Consciously, of course, but also metaphorically. He's done it, everyone has been having a good time. He's not seen a single thing out of place so far - which doesn't mean there isn't, but if it's not important enough to be brought to his attention it's probably fine, right? Right.

He's still listening, though - to the party, and to who might be wandering about.


Wildcard

[Nero's all over the party, so grab me on Discord or Plurk if you want something else!]

The Garden

[codeswitchcraft]

There is a girl in the garden with golden hair, dressed in a floaty white gown spangled with golden and silvery-grey stars. Her half-mask has more of those stars, as does her hairpiece. She's humming to herself a little, swaying to the music that those on the stage are playing, now that the play itself is over.

She turns and--

"Oh!" she says. "You startled me."

Laina Guthart > Armin The Fool - Actor, Jester

[terraboo]

[Quick Solo Scene-Setter]

It's showtime, Armin concludes. And she's got a lot of work to do, and so little time to do it. The Umbra Court's local fool cannot settle for anything less than maximum entertainment, cutting across class and kith.

First step, of course, is making sure her outfit is perect. Fortunately, she has most of what she needs for that already. (OOC: Custom art by ValkyriePyra) Freshly laundered, hat and poofs and tight in juuust the right spots to draw an extra kind of attention or two. One of the nicer parts of being a jester, is that with everyone above her, she can ignore standards of 'polite dress' basically freely.

Okay. Outfit's together. She rarely bothers with much makeup - she wants to be seen as a vamp, after all. Just a harmless one.

[Amidst The Setting Sun, Armin does a thing her player does at an actual IRL Renaissance Fair]

Even before the sun has fully set, there's shady spots. Armin the Fool knows them well, and regularly slips out among them. And on a day like this?"

"Greetings and hello! Hello and greetings, visitors, locals," Laina pauses a moment, glancing around, "and fine folk of the Umbra Court who art desperately clutching parasols as if they were pearls and got in this line by mistake!"

None were above Laina's mockery. A one-woman inversion festival was the most important part of her job. (Though on a night like this, she was going to be gentler toward Lord Umbra himself until exactly the correct moment.)

"I art Armin the Fool of the court, and given the revels and joy that exist within this party, I'd like to see thee in as quickly as possible!"

She mock looked around, shading her eyes with a hand, "Which is why I shouldst count the number of umbrellas, and guess how many of them belong not to people expecting rain today of all days, but to members of the court who should be taking the side entrance to thine right as thou face the manor!"

She unshades her eyes with a shrug. "Much harder to count are those with our special invitations, who should be going to the side entrance to thine LEFT as thou face the manor!"

Then, a deflated-sounding reminder, "And for the love of Montressor, if you're working the event this evening, get around back and get in already, sheesh."

Amd then it's time to promptly gallivant off from shadow to shadow to talk to the next segment of the line.... Or happily stop for whoever she happens to run into.

[The Masquerade Improper!]

Armin the Fool, obviously, had intensely planned her mask for the event proper to look hastily improvised. Sure, she had the purple and black going on a basic eye mask, but it had bits of cloth tied to it, looking almost more like the badly thought out mask of some common brigand.

With the two pointy cap. And much tighter leggings than anyone with untrained gams would ever dare consider. Again, it had to look like she was foolish enough that she forgot to get a mask until the very last moment before she slipped into the party.

Without actually getting in the way of her sliding around, a jape here at a blowhard, a bit of support for someone who could use a moment of confidence over there, occasionally talking up a snack that was underconsumed, or issuing more broad commentaries on whatever she saw - or broader observations about Montican society, which we all live in obviously! Well. Besides visitors. They're only living in it for a little bit until they scatter all and sundry after all!

[The Garden]

Of course, Armin dramatically speaks of fresh air and slips out to the garden every so often! Or to the balcony above.

On the right cue, she might even jump from the latter down to the former, rolling until she crashes into the wall of the hedge maze (so as not to hurt anyone or anything valuable), just to drop in on someone out of nowhere!

[The Hedge Maze]

... Or maybe you'll run into her tangled in the wall of the maze, looking every bit like she didn't plan to be there!

Of course, it is in fact planned - she knows how to walk atop the hedges safely - so if she is down near your level tangled up, it's every bit the plan - and she may have some special japes for those who say the wrong thing.

[Other]

Of course, with her going all and sundry, she could be found almost anywhere on the right cue. Or the most inconvenient moment you can plausibly think of. And at an event like this, there are a lot of inconvenient moments indeed...

The Garden

[newmemorywhodis]

Loic had been lurking in the garden, mostly as part of the ongoing to plan to Hang Around And Give Sigrid Moral Support.

But then, sudden movement! An attacker from above!

Loic rolls to the side, landing crouched down on all fours in a way that would be much more natural if he was in his preferred wolf form. He just barely manages not to bare his teeth, and really blow his cover.

...Oh. It's just the greeter, from the beginning of the masquerade. A few seconds later, Loic realises he shouldn't stay on all fours, and he quickly stands up. Shifts awkwardly, one arm reaching to to scratch the back of his head.

Mei Torioi > Amalia Hunter, The Rival, Werewolf Actor

[birdchasingecho]

sc. i -- A moment of Collusion (Claire, Sigrid, Sigwulf)
All a quiet, at first, as they pile into John Haycart.

"Now. Listen. As we arrive, you are stage-hands, until you can change and reach the dance-floor. The servants' entrance is an entrance, but one we must use carefully. And do try not to embarrass Lord Montica." Amalia's providing the cover and the way in, and, well. Favors made, favors exchanged. Amalia has a different charm to appear human-- a beautiful thing, of glass and sand, that glitters like a constellation, as well as a white gold pair of bracelets that sit upon her ungloved wrists. How odd, they are almost like shackles, merely missing their chains.

Lily, as well, sits, uncomfortably, in John Haycart. In truth, she's looking betwixt all and sundry, worried about the events of two nights past.

There are two costumes, as well-- the familiar of the Crystal Ermines' Argent, and one that evokes the night sky.

But, as they set up, Amalia helps the players into costumes and makeup, but her attention is partly absorbed, looking over at Lily performing the same purpose.

The tension could be cut with a knife. Another confrontation is brewing.

sc. ii-- A strange face at the party (Masquerade) [Lily]
And there she is, shining like the stars, in her charms and baubles, evinced in solid and shade. She is decked in black, with silver thread, marking herself as if the night sky. Dazzling, but hardly unusual, save for the color.

Her mask is green, but marked with those same silver dots, these sketched out in constellations bright. And what a scene she cuts!

She asks most anyone to dance, approaches them, bows, with a rogue's grin... and time on her side.

sc. iii-- Montica sleeps, yet trapped, inside clockwork, meant to make it breathe... (Gardens) [Amalia]
And as for who is left... She swallows what nerves she has, and bears the mask for Crystal Argent, and is swiftly re-reading her part while she waits.

Her hands shake.

The show must go on. It must. She has no other choice. And she will mingle amongst the others in the Garden, and do her level best to speak kindly.

zooms in here a)

[angel_of_baal]

"I mean no insult to the hosts of this place. Despite how...unusual my manner of entrance." Someone has to make sure the other wolves here behave. "What shall I carry?"

John Smith

[borntolove]

The Masquerade

With his watch shop ordered closed, he had no choice but to be social. So, off in went in a tux and bowtie and a snazzy looking mask. Smith is enjoying some wine near conversations. There have been more whispers of fighting between the wolves and vampires and he wonders how much is true.

"Excuse me I couldnt help but wonder..."

The Garden

He went to the Masquerade without a partner and found himself aimlessly wandering the garden. Staring up at the stars he asks, "Do you ever wonder if there's other life out there."

Maze

Wandering the maze alone he gets the feeling that he's maybe not so alone, "Hello? Anyone thar?"

the garden

[ohaiyo_isekai]

"Often," says a figure in a silver fox mask. "When you consider the age of the universe, there must be... though given that span, I think it more likely we'd find apes or angels, rather than men."

This may be the rumored new court mage, Lucas Azuresky. Many contradictory things are said about him: that he is newly turned, that he is an elder with frightening magic, that he can kill with the evil eye or with conjured flame, that he tires of battle and is here to learn healing arts.

Loic (Link) | Werewolf Actor

[newmemorywhodis]

i. Parties are akward
Loic was here mainly to support Sigrid, really. He'd spent more time shopping for her mask than his own, but he'd still managed to find a nice mask he liked, one in the shape of deep green leaves. The colour scheme continued in the rest of his outfit. (In fact, Loic was just a bit fancy. It was kind of nice, actually. It almost made up for the fact that he had to be in human for form this.)

Much of time, he's hanging somewhere vaguely near Sigrid. Close enough to provide moral support, but not so close that she'll feel like Loic's plastered to her side all evening. Much of the time, he sticks to the edges of the ballroom. And Loic can stand around stoically with the rest of them, but here, in human form in this fancy place, he just feels awkward in his own human skin.

So don't mind him, he's just going to be...here, being a wallflower.

ii. Until you discover the food, which is the best part
The night improves considerably when Loic discovers the refreshments.

The wine Loic ignores. He doesn't care for wine. The canapes, however, he devours. He devours a lot of them. Each time a server passes him by, he grabs multiple canapes and starts stuffing them into his mouth.

Eventually, the servers realise that he's eating most of their supplies. At which point Loic starts stalking them, like a wolf on the hunt.

iii. All supernaturals like to chase
This might be a vampire tradition. But Loic has found himself a spot to perch, crouched on top of a garden wall so he can see into the maze. He stares, intently, at the chase within.

Wolves like to chase too, after all. It's all part of the hunt.

...In fact, Loic's pretty sure they could do a better version of this. Maybe with a pack of wolves, all working together to stalk their prey. Or maybe if someone were to throw a stick. That would be great too. Yeah. Loic could go for a good stick chase.

For now, though, he'll watch the vampires with a stare that very much suggests he wouldn't mind joining in.

iii

[codeswitchcraft]

Loic doesn't need to speak aloud for Sigrid to guess what he's thinking.

"We ought to do one of our own," she tells him, when he returns from the wall to the garden proper. "Though we would need a better maze than what we have at home."

Shadow -> Actor (Lord Umbra)

[ultimateedgehog]

1 - Early evening
Lord Umbra does not get jitters. He does not feel nerves. To suggest such a thing would be insanity. (The fact that he's watching the sun set from the safety of a shadowed alcove, with his shoulders so tense around his ears, is surely normal behaviour.) A hunger gnaws at him, but the thought of drinking right now is repulsive in how irritating it is - there is just too much on his mind to humour the needs of an undead body.

The doors to his mansion will open shortly, and the thunder of hundreds of heartbeats will storm through the halls. It's something that would have been disastrous in his youth - surely heralding a veritable bloodbath that no human would have willingly entered into. That so many humans now look forward to this night is proof to Maria's memory that he's succeeding in following through with her wish. And it's evidence that will quiet some of the doubts growing in his mind - because however aggressive his clan have become to the wolves, it won't spill over to the humans. Centuries of doctrine will keep them from doing harm. There will be no lives exhausted; his people will be safe.

...He still pinches at the wrist of his glove, adjusting it needlessly. His clothing is pristine as ever, both it and his mask deliberate matches to what his heir will be wearing tonight. A signal of belonging that Shadow is - usually - wary of, but there are some visitors who need the reminder of Nero's station in Shadow's court; and foreigners to whom the tie should be made clear. For a slight against Nero is the same as an offence against the Lord, and a person should tread carefully if they're seeking to do either.

2 - The Mezzanine
Anonymity is something outside of Shadow's reach, so he doesn't try. Vampiric nobility greet him with bows of the head - false platitudes spilling from their lips. In return, his psychic prowess is readily demonstrated. Not a single person approaches him whose surface thoughts aren't skimmed, and he doesn't mean to be subtle or gentle about it; the amber glow to his eyes evident even from a distance.

He's also keeping a close eye on Nero, watching his heir's interactions with sharp intent. Not that he doesn't trust Nero to manage himself, but--

(If asked 'why' he feels the need to vet all of Nero's interactions, he wouldn't be able to explain it. It's a possessive sort of protectiveness, coiled up tight with a deep concern that is expressed the same way he always does - through control.)

He's absolutely going to need to be distracted if Nero's to get any sort of privacy tonight. Luckily, he's hyper-aware of anything that could conceivably go wrong. It won't take much to catch his attention. Move a vase out of place, pluck the petal from a flower, or bump into a piece of furniture - and Lord Umbra's glower will be upon you. Hopefully that was what you were going for?

3 - The balcony and hedge maze
Late into the night, it seems the Lord Umbra's shoulders have finally relaxed. He's stopped obsessively correcting minor details and the amber glow of his eyes has dimmed. His psychic powers still lightly skim for a person's intentions in his interactions, but it's not the forceful demonstration some would have received earlier in the evening.

It probably has a lot to do with the goblet that eventually found its way into his hands, and the slick metallic tang of blood coating his fangs. It's put him in a good enough mood that he's watching the players cajoling each-other into entering the maze; that signature glare of his toned down into an almost uninterested stare.

To anyone lingering on the balcony with him, he'll incline his head towards the maze - eyes flicking over to them.

"You should join them."

He wants the entertainment.

4 - The garden
Follow the garden path far enough and you'll find that it starts to lead up. Stone steps lead to a secluded bench, overlooking the distant chapel and graveyard that comprise Montica's precious hallowed ground. As the dawn starts to threaten the sky, Shadow can be found here; quiet as the sounds of revelry wind down from the mansion below, a long-stemmed flower turning in his fingers as he ruminates.

It's almost sunrise, but he's not making any sign of moving anytime soon. Vampires should be cautious - unless you feel like shadow-stepping away from the sun with him, you should probably have a different escape plan in place.

2

[terraboo]

Hey, Lord Umbra? Lord Umbra?

Armin the Fool maaaay, by about this time of night, have caught on to a certain going on with a certain scion of yours. And she's spotted an opportunity. And she's gonna try to make sure it can be taken.

She'd quietly a secluded point to Nero at some point. And now she just needed to keep Lord Umbra inside for another, oh, ten minutes.

She's also, it is worth noting, smart enough to not raise his ire - because that would provoke suspicion.

Or at least... Not provoke it DIRECTLY.

This unfortunately leaves her other options. Like looking at a particularly boisterous blowhard buffoon of a businessman, and...

"Art thou considering coupons, milord?"

Oh, he's had a few drinks. And Armin has apparently listened in, and that word was a sore spot for him - one that got several people laughing, and him fuming enough to...

"How DARE thee?!", he shouts, and takes a swing at her - not expecting her to duck, and promptly stumbling into a modestly valuable vase hard enough that it starts to tip...

And oh look, there's Lord Umbra. Either he notices early enough to balance the vase and tell the man off in a way that could go for a fair bit of time - enough to signal one or two others possibly... Ooooor the sound of it breaking right next to him will really set him off.

All while everyone else is laughing at Armin. None of them know about the added layer of motivation, after all. It's not like it's the first time she's deflated someone tonight.

Viktor | Vampire Actor

[scienceofthearcane]

The Masqurade

Viktor wouldn't much like being at any party, and he certainly wouldn't want to spend his entire night in the exclusive areas meant only for those who are higher up in the Umbra court. But since lord Umbra insisted he attend, Viktor protested by staying off the mezzanine entirely. Unfortunately, this meant that he was on the same floor as the ballroom, although he was doing his best not to be seen and leaning against a wall.

His costume was unrelieved white, cut so that it would give the impression of a flared dress when he was dancing, but since he had refused to dance thus far, that part was largely unseen. But as boring as his costume could be, his mask was anything but. It was a diaphanous silver and shaped like a butterfly. It highlighted his face and sharper features more than it would hide them with soft mesh over the eyes, rather than holes cut into the mask around them. The color was not an accident but a sharp comment on Viktor being of a lower class than the vampiric elite, despite the mask itself having a crown of gold.

The Garden

When Viktor grew heartily sick of being shown off like a prized exotic bird, he fled into the darkened garden. He wasn't supposed to leave the Umbra estate, but he had to get away from the stifling masquerade ball, so this was the best compromise he could think of.

The moon flowers were blooming, and their light scent perfumed the air. There was a fountain at the end of the garden path he had been walking on, so he sat down on the edge and looked into the pool of water. It reflected the Moon and a smattering of stars along with Viktor's masked face.

Maybe he could think up an excuse to stay away from the ball for the rest of the night? Just stay out in the garden so that no one would stare at him with either the loathing of the handful of werewolf aristocracy that was here or the complete dismissal by the vampires.

It wasn't so much that he had a problem with dancing, but it was being at the beck and call of the vampire elites who played their silly political games that he would end up being a pawn in, but they never missed a chance to remind him that he was not a member of their aristocracy either.

The Garden

[aetherweaver]

Nero spots Viktor walking around the garden, staring into the pool. He's aware that there are those watching the garden from above, but he steps near the man anyway. It doesn't really matter the rank of those in his court to him.

"... Too many people for you?" He keeps his voice quiet. He doesn't want to startle the other and he really does not want to draw attention from the elites above.

Cinthe | Reader

[lightsgift]

The Masquerade

Cinthe had planned to find entrance to the grand event as a performer, perhaps, winning her invitation by work, but fortune has smiled on her this turn and instead she is present on the arm of Sigwulf Guidulf. That means she can fully enjoy the party as a guest, and as is required for the ball, she's dressed for the part.

Long blonde hair is pinned up in an intricate coil atop her head, the better to accentuate the feathery, gold-accented peacock mask that covers the upper half of her face. She hasn't been shy about her choice of color or adornment, and the dress she wears is a similarly bright spray of gauzy, silky turquoise. Small, glittering gold fairie lights trail around her where she moves, an extra play of light and color that drift lazily in her orbit, and her scent is that of a human, tinged lightly with powdery floral perfume and a deeper waft of woodsmoke.

If she's going to be here, she's going to be at her best, and she moves across the downstairs ballroom with gliding grace. Sometimes at Sigwulf's side, but also exploring on her own, taking in the spectacle and helping herself to a glass or two of wine along with the offered nibbles. She's keeping her senses about her, but she's not one to pass up the offer of snacks, particularly fancy ones.

Her gaze falls occasionally on the blocked stairway to the mezzanine, as much wary as it is curious. Her smile in this company is pleasant but likewise careful. She's a stranger here still, and in some of those moments in between the laughing and the lights, there's uncertainty. There are a lot of very sharp teeth here, dressed up in good manners and party finery, and it may have occurred to her by now that she's in over her head. It's not a thought that strikes her often, but occasionally...

The Garden

Even though she's not working through the event, putting on appearances still takes energy, and after a while of mingling, dancing, and observing, Cinthe finds herself outside for a breath of night air. The garden- the entire estate, really- is lovely, as grand as she's ever seen, and after a bit of wandering she finds herself sitting on a bench backed by a trellis dripping with roses.

She's aware of the stage, and of the balcony above. But she's doing her best not to think about it, just now, the possibility of a watchful (hungry) audience. The little lights around her flicker and fade out as she settles, a bit of her facade released in a moment of rest.

Not for long, but a few minutes at least, breathing in the perfume of blooming flowers and green things. Just as she was taught at the temple. Breathe, hold, release. Calm like still water and vast, grassy fields. Even fire has its flow...She's just lost hers for a moment.

She's alone, and very far from home, in a strange and dangerous place. She hasn't really had a chance to deal with that yet, the enormity of it, and now, here, is when her vulnerability really hits her.

But she keeps breathing, smoothing her skirts with her hands, and after a moment opens her eyes again.

The garden

[newmemorywhodis]

As she opens her eyes, a quiet presence silently steps up beside her. But Loic hums softly, as he approaches, so she won't be startled.

He stands next to her, holding a little plate with a few canapes out to her. He looks at her with a question in his eyes - is she okay? Will some canapes help her feel better?

Sigrid Guildulf (Siobhan Greenwood) | Lead Actor: Werewolf Scion | OTA

[codeswitchcraft]

Waxing Gibbous Moon

It is not the full moon, but the full moon is coming. Like her brother, like all the other wolves, Sigrid feels the call of it in her blood.

But it is not the full moon yet.

Though she rode part of the way here with her brother and Amalia, she is no longer with them now. And she gives both Loic and her new friend Sumire one last quick, nervy smile before she approaches the Umbra Mansion, praying that Jadis' potion to disguise her as a human will last.

The Masquerade

Sigrid is not surprised that she is being allowed no further than the lower ballroom. After all, she is a party crasher. She scans the crowd, attempting to see if Lucas Azuresky is here. Even though she knows he has a woman back home, she did find him comely during their brief meeting at the playhouse.

Sigrid is dressed in a floaty white gown, spangled with stars in gold and silvery grey thread, with a half mask that carries a similar star motif and a headdress atop her crown of golden braids that completes the look. She is happy enough to nibble on the canapes that are brought to her and sip at her wine and she is willing to take to the dance floor with whoever asks her, but it is not all that long into the night before she sneaks off to the garden.

The Garden

Even with the bloodsuckers watching from above, there is something that relaxes in Sigrid when she escapes to the gardens. There is something comfortable about being in a space with greenery and grass. Wolves were not always meant to be on cobblestones and between brick walls.

She watches the show with the same kind of avid attention that she usually pays to these players, weeping at the tragic ending, and doesn't go back inside after it's finished, staying to listen to the other musicians and buskers who take the stage after.

You might find her in some isolated corner of the garden as the night wears on, humming to herself, and swaying to whatever music might be coming from the stage or the ballroom. She glances sometimes at the hedge maze with a thoughtful expression, but she does not go towards it. She is not such a fool.

the garden - shit, let's be Rosaline, I mean Mercutio

[ohaiyo_isekai]

The figure in the fox mask seems startled to see Sigrid, but he recovers quickly - and, given those fine curls of platinum blond under his lips, it's quite possible Sigrid has already recognized him as Lucas.

"I... you seem to be quite enjoying my lord Nero's party," he says. And then, apologetically, he says, "I did not deceive you when last we met, madimoiselle. I had not sought my current position until after speaking to you. Pray forget I mentioned anything about my employer."

Iren Suto | original | Reader

[ordainedbarkeep]

Iren was perfectly comfortable and at ease at a fancy ball. She had acquired a mask, and while her dress was nothing terribly special, a bit of soulfusing had created the illusion that it had a lot more form and ruffles than was actually present. More than her outfit it was her bearing that made her look like she belonged here. She swept through the crowd with the cast iron confidence that there was no POSSIBLE way anyone could question her right to be here.

-Masquerade 1-

Iren was actually a bartender, but that didn’t fit with her current persona, so she had come up with a cover story as an eccentric writer named “Lady Nova Aequilix”. All it had taken was one vampire noble feeling a little insecure. He had declared that of COURSE he was familiar with Lady Aequilix’s latest book and before she knew it she had an invitation to the upper floor.

The downside to this was that she had to frantically make up details about her “next book” to a pack of supernatural predators.

“Of course, I can’t spoil the whole thing right now,” she was saying, trying to cone up with an excuse to get somewhere where she didn’t feel like her neck was quite so exposed. “But let’s just say tonight’s discussion has given me some ideas. Shifted the writer’s block, if you will.”

The vampires looked pleased that their suggestions might be immortalized in writing and Iren took the chance to excuse herself to the balcony where she could calm down while watching the dancing downstairs.

-Masquerade 2-

Okay that was FAR too stressful. “Lady Nova Aequilix” retreated back down to the lower floor to spend time with the plebs, who she judged as less likely to try and eat her.

She had snagged a glass of sparkling wine (she normally preferred red, but couldn’t get herself to drink anything blood colored at a vampires’ ball) and was working through that when a waltz started up. She loved waltzes, and it had been far too long since she’d danced to one. Iren finished the glass and set it on a passing servant’s tray and made eye contact with whoever looked agreeable and curtsied.

“Could I have the pleasure of your next dance?”

-Gardens-

Several dances and several glasses later, Iren was feeling a bit overheated, so she headed outside to cool off. She wandered the gardens for a while before eventually gravitating towards the stage.

Iren sat down in the middle of act three and tried to follow along despite having missed the opening, but could make little headway on it.

After the play ended, Iren leaned toward her neighbor. “I’m sure that made more sense if you didn’t come in half way through.”she said, laughing at herself. “I think I picked up the general shape of it, but I couldn’t figure out who the old man was everyone was crying over in the finale.”

Everyone’s a literary critic.

[ohaiyo_isekai]

Oh. Oh that sounds like a cover story for a Reader gone horribly right.

The man (if he is one, given his pallor) in a fox mask and a familiar crimson mantle speaks in the voice of Hikaru Aozora.

…plus a French accent.

“Madimoiselle Aequilix? I am not familiar with your latest, but I believe we’ve met. Perhaps in the great library where we studied the plays of Shakespeare, and the novel Twilight?”

There was a lot of Shakespeare plays going on in the Library, and the Recommended Reading was indeed Twilight…

Rakia Amarga | Reader

[flantastic]

[The Masquerade]
Rakia is only here because he thinks something important might happen at such an event. He is trying to be responsible.

Being responsible sucks.

He's cleaned up nice, at least. Even found a mask that looks a bit like a stylized jellyfish, which privately amuses him. He's unfazed by the vampire guards manning those stairwells, and he will take a (mercifully) brief moment to very obviously size them up. He's not starting anything! He is merely...looking. Looking a little out of place because he is not anywhere close to rich or an aristocrat in real life, more like He's watching the other partygoers closely as well, but this is not aggressive. This is trying to make sure he's not sticking out like a sore thumb. It's not working as well as he'd hope.

[The Garden]
Rakia can tell he is being watched, and this too sucks. He's glad for the play, if for nothing else other than that it's something that effectively takes attention off of the partygoers and puts it onto the performers. Not that he cares about the play. He just cares about getting outside and getting out of that fancy house, and...is that a bench he sees?

It's a bench! This whole party sucks, he doesn't feel like paying full attention to the play, and so he is going to lie down and...well, truly napping under the circumstances would be stupid, but he can at least rest his eyes.

[The Hedge Maze]
Rakia is appalled. This is appalling. He is trying to take his cues from the crowd, but this is a disgusting display of power, as far as he is concerned. He knows he could throw any number of wrenches into the works--blowing any advantage of surprise he'd have in any fight he might find here afterwards--and he restrains himself from doing so. He's been called a Granute Hunter before, tasked with taking down Granutes out to harvest humans for use in Dark Confections...and would hunting vampires out trying to feed on humans really be so different? Consent seems to be present here, there's that. He might just look like an uneasy observer witnessing this for the first time, or he might be looking like he wants to join in. He slides a bit closer to one of the other observers, asking, "Do they do this sort of thing often?"

[ohaiyo_isekai]

"It's more popular with mortals than many would care to admit, mon ami," sighs someone in a fox mask with an oddly familiar voice, though that French accent is. It's something. "A bit of harmless fun, shaped like a real fear. Cathartic, I imagine, in the original sense of the word."

The person saying so is modestly tall, as per what Rakia ran into prior to the library, with a well-manicured mustache of platinum blonde, under the mask, above his unconcealed lips.

He pauses. "Pardon me," he says. "But am I mistaken, or did I see you in the great library watching The Tempest or perhaps Romeo and Juliet?"

...oh. This guy's a Reader.

Raidou Kuzunoha XIV | Reader | OTA | Will match format

[capital_asset]

I. Waxing Gibbous

Raidou feels the pull of the moon as much as any other werewolf, though he's very good at locking that sort of thing down. He's honestly a bit more concerned about the keeping the fear aura - another gift of the Ombrandanti - under tight control. No sense terrifying everyone around him while he's trying to glean any useful information.

He's still debating whether to attend the Masquerade. Logically, he thinks he probably should, but past experiences with them have made him a bit wary - possibly overly wary, but considering he walked away from one Masquerade with an Arcana Mark down his spine, he thinks he's entitled.

II. Masquerade

He does, of course, end up attending the Masquerade. He can't help but be a bit worried - he is still a werewolf, albeit a very different kind of one - but he forces those worries away for now, and simply strolls in like he belongs. He's gotten good at that. (Granted, it also helps that he's got several forms of magic, plus one irritated demon, at his disposal if he does get into trouble. But hopefully it won't come to that.)

He hasn't brought a mask of his own, so he picks up one of those on offer, a silver cat mask, donning it without incident; wraithwolves aren't weak to silver. His fear aura remains completely locked down, though he'll use it if he absolutely needs it. He could probably sneak up to the mezzanine, but for now he's content to stay on the commoners' floor and observe... not that he'd say no to an invitation, if one is offered.

III. Garden

Potential observers notwithstanding, the garden is actually somewhat soothing after spending so much time in the ballroom. Certainly it's less crowded.

He probably shouldn't be spending much time out here by himself, but he takes the opportunity anyway. He considers exploring the hedge maze, but decides against it for the time being. Maybe he'll come back sometime when there isn't a game in progress. For now, he simply walks the pathways in the gardens, occasionally humming to himself as he goes. And if some of the blossoms unfurl themselves and turn towards him as he passes... no, they don't.

IV. Wildcard

[Anything goes?]

II

[ohaiyo_isekai]

“Ah, monsieur Kuzunoha, welcome. So good to see a fellow willworker.”

While his face is concealed by a take on a traditional kitsune half-mask wrought from silver, that plummy nigh-monotone drawl and the assumed French are unmistakably Hikaru.

He raises a glass of ginger punch with ice.

“Cheers to lord Nero Umbra,” he says. “I can recommend anything not served on silver, those are… for more rarified tastes than mortal. I don’t think you could handle our strongest potions, Adventurer.”

A joke that Deedee had confused the proprietor of Yomi with, before showing them the sketch on a borrowed smartphone.

Charlie | Actor - human | OTA (Late in because of IRL)

[lady_lichfield]

The Commoner's ball

Harriet had ensured that Charlie was well turned out for the ball. All except the mask. The mask Harriet had purchased for her was lovely and expensive.. but not silver. Charlie hadn't known it had to be silver or she would have argued more strongly that such a ball was not a place for one such as her. But Harriet insisted, so when she was given the silver mask Charlie compromised. She set the required silver mask over her face and then affixed the mask Harriet bought her to her coifed hair so that she had a face in front and in the back as well.

Not from her dress would her status as a commoner be discerned. Harriet had spent way too much on a lovely baby blue gown with gold trim and white lace. It had far too many petticoats for Charlie's liking, and she hated wearing the corset under. But there was a small private thrill to the feel of the silk, the rustle of the underskirts, and even the odd balance of the bustle. She truly did feel like a proper lady.

And she had borrowed Harriet's jewelry as well for the eve. Somehow her refusing to let her Lady spend so much to buy her jewelry turned into her borrowing a small fortune to wear about neck and ears and wrists and fingers. She didn't even understand the point to the delicate rings, as they were hidden under her gloves. She was nervous wearing so much jewelry, fairly certain that the earbobs alone were worth more than she herself was. But she felt glad of all the bits of finery when she saw the other guests. And glad of the proper high neck of the dress when she spotted the fangs of some of them.

She'd never have dared come close in her urchin days. Even before that, she might have aspired at best to getting a job helping clean up after. But now she was here as grand and as fine as any. She fanned herself with the small silk fan as she watched people dance and mingle. She was enjoying being there, but none of that meant that she wished to dance. She was quite pleased to be a spectator; trying to figure out how one ate the offered treats without soiling one's gloves.

That didn't mean someone might not mistake her fro someone else and ask her to dance. Frankly, Charlie still saw herself as a boy dressed up some days, after so many years when passing as a boy saved her life. So she never thought herself pretty enough to attract attention, and didn't really think about how all that could actually be seen of her was her ears, the sides of her face, and part of her arms. Her shape wasn't even her own between the bustle and the hated corset. And her hair was hidden under the double mask. So even if others did agree she wasn't pretty - though she was - who could tell under all the finery? She did lift the mask slightly to try and eat, but so far that was mostly a lost cause, as she really didn't want to risk soiling dress or gloves.

Even so, she was having a grand time indeed.

The Garden

Eventually, Charlie would have wandered into the gardens, having given up on eating. It amazed her how much her life had changed that she could pass by readily available food. But then, going outside was part of that self control. She was afraid she'd weaken and take off the blasted gloves and mask if she stayed any longer amongst those temptations. So outside for air she went.

She was aware she was being watched, of course. But then she took that as presumed that at any point someone could be watching her. Even though the fear no longer held her as it once did, she doubted that caution would ever fully desert her.

She wandered the gardens, watching others as she was certain she was being watched. And she wondered if her father had been any part of helping to plan for all this. Probably not. But all the same, she was keeping her eye on everyone as best she could. Given her druthers, she'd never see the man again. And hopefully he wouldn't recognize her in all this finery even if he was here...