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

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."

[aetherweaver]

He raises his hands apologetically, waving her off a little. "It's fine, it's fine. I apologize for skulking -"

Nero stops, staring at her. She's... radiant, bright in a way that he is dark. The sun, which he hasn't seen for decades. His eyes go wide, and he tries to calm himself. What is it that makes him feel this way, like his heart is beating for the first time in thirty years?

"I... ah. I don't believe we are acquainted. I am Nero Umbra." A name most all here know by reputation if not sight. He puts a hand to his chest and bows slightly. "Are you enjoying the party?"

[codeswitchcraft]

"Nero... Umbra?" the girl says, tasting the name like she is not entirely sure she likes it. Her eyes are wide and blue beneath her glittering mask. She dips into a curtsey in return to his bow.

"No," she says as she rises. "We would not be. And I am, yes, very much so. It is very different than the affairs I am used to. I am Sigrid," she adds, almost as an afterthought.

[aetherweaver]

"Sigrid. What a lovely name, if I may be so bold." He steps towards her, then stops. No. Patience. Has he not learned enough? But oh, how he is itching, how those blue eyes captivate him.

The comment gets a smile out of him, though. His fangs are there, but he feels... more free than he has in a while. His voice isn't loud, out of fear of people hearing them - but... but...

She's a mortal, he knows that from the eyes and lack of obvious fangs when she speaks, but even still... even still he feels his heart swell at every word she says. "I take it you and yours are not quite so... formal? I imagine not many are, besides us..." But he barely remembers a life without it, without servants and manors and all sorts of wondrous things. "Lady Sigrid... I do hope you continue to have a good time here. It is... well, much of it is my own doing. The work of many hands, however - I would not wish to discount them."

Prior to the Event

[terraboo]

Well, one option for Nero's nervousness about the ball could be asking someone he knows for a fact has done at least a couple of these before, and who probably won't dare embarrass him in front of his father.

Unless his father would find it really. REALLY funny.

Meaning she's never dared try before so surely not tonight of all nights.

Seriously, though, Armin the Fool, after another round of line barking, slips in, and sees him fretting about.

"O wondrous scion, methinks you could use some scintillating conversation."

[aetherweaver]

He looks over at Armin and his shoulders sag slightly, tension draining out of it. He knows Armin's quite a bit older than him, though he's never asked how old. But Armin is one of the few people who he feels comfortable letting down his guard a little bit, even as he knows the Fool reports to his sire.

"Perhaps. I feel a bit out of practice, I suppose." He turns to face her more fully and rubs at his face, red eyes glancing down. "I know I've been trained in court manners, but many here are multiple times both my ages." He's afraid, but he's doing his best.

[terraboo]

"Fortunately, you've a few advantages many of those here lack. The power of rank can draw much forgiveness. Some may think this a chance to break your rank, sure... But that's where I come in. Or quite a few others who would prefer to see you succeed."

A bit of a chuckle. "Of course, there's more to it. My largest concern right now, would be your sheer nervousness. That is more likely to cause trouble than any lack of practice. Please do remember, we can still breathe, and it still helps."

Nero's success isn't necessarily her own... But she still wants it to happen regardless.

"You are the worthy scion of Clan Umbra. Carry yourself with the right mote of confidence, and you can force even your enemies to let you, oh what do the humans say? 'Fake it 'till you make it.'"

[aetherweaver]

"... I do try." It does remind him of his younger days, where he was nervous but did not have the entire clan's expectations on his shoulders. He tries to take a deep breath, letting the air cycle in and out. "I suspect the anxiety will be a bit less when things are underway... court manners are a mask we've both worn for long enough."

It's just that Armin's are much less mannerly than his own. He's aware of her quick mind - and he appreciates it. "I do remember that saying. It was something that was told to me quite often back then." He straightens up and adjusts his jacket, looking a little bit more calm. "... Our lord will hopefully not have to do too much tonight. I know many will demand his attention..." Unless they get redirected to him.

"... You do think I have a chance of pulling this off successfully, then?"

garden, probably

[goodtobebad]

Tony's not exactly welcome at the big parties, but he knows the grounds quite well, having been a gardener here for a long time. Which might explain why he melts out of the shadows to address the Heir.

"You don't look nearly as tired as you probably are," he comments mildly, perching on the edge of a nearby bench. Tony never looks truly comfortable, but he's doing his best not to appear like a deer in the headlights, ready to jump at the slightest hint of aggression.

He's got no beef with the Umbra Heir. Not really.

[aetherweaver]

His mouth goes into a line - yes, he remembers Tony. He probably shouldn't be here, but... well. He's not in a mood to kick someone out unless they're causing trouble.

"That's the idea, yes." He rolls his eyes slightly, a bit childish. But it's fine, he's not actually upset. "... You've been well, then?" He doesn't wish for anyone to be hurt, not really...

[goodtobebad]

You've been well? What a question. He's heartbroken, drinks himself into a stupor most nights, and the only things really keeping him going are the feeling of rich, dark earth on his hands, and occasionally helping someone get out of this whole mess, and out of town.

He doesn't extend himself the same grace.

"Oh, sure, fine," he says, voice incredibly dry. "No one's beaten me up in a dark alley in weeks. And you?"

[aetherweaver]

Look, he's not dead, so that counts as well for someone in his position. "... You know, I am aware you've fallen out of favor, but that does not mean that I cannot arrange for things to happen to those who are attempting to injure you."

His voice is a little quiet - he'd never agreed with Tony's removal from favor himself. "And for those times where people do dare to hurt you, I have heard of places where you can find solace... though I assume you know those better than I." He's familiar enough with the neutral territory and aware that there's an entire group of people who consider themselves neutral... but time has never allowed him to know it too deeply.

masquerade -- hope this is cool?

[angel_of_baal]

It would be rude to attend a party at the Umbran palace without at least making himself known to the host family.

He's dressed in all black, wolf mask not at all hiding who he is, his hair flowing from the back like a wolf's mane.

The smile he gives is genuine, because he can see from the other's body language that he is just as uncomfortable here. "I bring you greetings of peace from Clan Guidulf." Can they both be done with the formalities?

all good!

[aetherweaver]

The wolf mask doesn't bother him - there are a few here who wear it ironically. But when Sigwulf says that, his eyes widen and he moves closer to the other.

"I see. ... Not a name I think you wish to throw around here, however." He's glad that he's in an area where there's fewer people. "... I was worried some of you would show up. You are not safe here, you know this?"

[angel_of_baal]

"Have no worry from me. I come here to hopefully ensure that my clan does not start any violence here." That's the point of him being here. And, possibly, keeping his sister safe.

"I can protect myself, but I would rather it not come to it."

Pre-ball Magic Lesson

[ohaiyo_isekai]

“You will do well, with how you have prepared. Breathe, milord.”

It had become a bit of a running joke for Lucas to remind him, in his evocation lessons.

Lucas wasn’t his real name, of course. He had admitted that to Lord Umbra when questioned: it was a nom de guerre adopted to throw whoever turned him and keep that mystery sire off the scent of those he fought back to back with in life.

He was secretive, this Lucas Azuresky, but one thing was not in question: he respected Nero and Lord Umbra, and he was on their side.

The reminder to breathe wasn’t for Nero’s nerves, but for his Breath. The energy Lucas knew his evocations shaped, guided by wand, word, and will.

And speaking of the wand…

“You have the shield bracelet? Remember, magnetic wards can only turn metal, and only ferrous metal at that.”

He had gifted him a bracelet of interlocking scales, as from a dragon, to channel a magnetic repulsion spell through - a ward against blades and bolts.

[aetherweaver]

"I do have it." He lifts his wrist, the bracelet secured around it. His hand goes to his chest, taking a deep breath.

He's not sure how well he's doing in these lessons - he's able to create a small shield most times, though it flickers. "Are you sure?"

It's a joke - or it's phrased as one, at least. "Let's see." He closes his eyes and lets the energy flow through him - unfamiliar, though not so unlike reaching out with his mind. He lets the shield take form, flickering as he tries again. He peeks one eye open and - "Damn it."

[ohaiyo_isekai]

“Better. Even an imperfect shield will deflect - turn a fatal blow to a graze. Try on my mark.”

Hikaru holds up a small iron coin made for this purpose, or to be magically magnetized.

“Ready?”

Before the ball - (let's hide our anxieties with Sire!)

[ultimateedgehog]

Shadow's not worried at all. (He is. Nero is his first and only heir. Shadow has never before needed an entire society to accept someone else as his equal, and he knows just how gruesome some vampiric lines of succession can become. He will not allow other clans to enforce or expect that of Nero, so tonight must establish him firmly and without doubt as Shadow's most trusted and competent right hand.)

Everything will be perfect, Shadow assures himself. This is Nero's first demonstration of his control to an audience wider than just Montica’s upper echelons. And it will. go. as. planned.

Standing before his heir in their own preparation room, critically eyeing the angle of Nero's lapel before reaching out to adjust it - he can't see it himself after all, blasted mirrors - Shadow does feel... assured. The mantra he's been repeating to himself feels more like reality: Tonight will be a success.

"Leave any concerns behind. Clan Umbra are bold in our actions; you will remember this, and act accordingly."

Though the words are sharply edged, the tone is... quiet. The words are meant for reassurance but to an unfamiliar ear, sounds more like a scolding or an order. Such is his way.

yaaaaaaaaay!

[aetherweaver]

He does not move when his sire tugs at his lapel. He's aware that even if it was fine, correcting him will do no good.

"Yes, sir." He doesn't take it as a scolding. He knows his sire by now. "And we will make it known that we have control over our domain. None will doubt us." Us, not him. They'll stand together - and falling isn't an option.

He waits for a moment and then puts a hand on the other's arm. "Everything has been taken care of. There is no need to worry."

[ultimateedgehog]

Shadow's paranoia is nothing new. The need for perfection is even less so. Nero bears the expectations that come from both as gracefully as ever.

And so he inclines his head - a small nod, acceptance. Nero's words are assuring, his shoulders easing - and the hand on Shadow's arm causes him to cease what is, admittedly, the useless tweaking of already-smooth fabric.

"You are ready." In appearance, in preparation, in ability to assert his place as Shadow's heir. It's so strange - there is part of him that can't stop seeing the Nero of 20-odd years ago, still young and human and someone to be protected. He's learned so much, has proven his capability over and over -- and yet, still, Shadow finds himself hesitant to leave Nero to face Montica's populace on his own. (A modern Reader might accuse him of being a 'helicopter parent', and they'd be absolutely right.)

"They will expect demonstrations," he says in lieu of acknowledging any of his conflicting thoughts. Taking a step back from Nero, he adjusts his own coat; once again smoothing the fabric needlessly. Trying not to feel the strange lack of weight on his side where his fencing rapier would normally be. "You should address any challenges as you see fit. Before the night is through, all of Montica will recognise your position and pay the respect that you are due."

The Masquerade; later on maybe?

[bashasasdemon]

Kai, as promised, does show for the Masquerade, though he spends most of his time hiding against the wall, people watching and trying not to hate every second. He mask fits the bill, at least, and he does have nice clothing to wear, though he prefers a different style to what's in fashion, his shirt and jacket almost tunic length and flowing. Still, no one can deny he looks good and that's what matters- putting in the effort.

He doesn't want to bother Nero early on in the evening, waiting until the man's had a chance to do initial rounds and settle in, see that everything is in fat going well. It at least doesn't have to be kept under wraps that they've spoken; most people would make a point to greet the host. "Told you it'd work out," he says, giving a little nudge to Nero's elbow.

[aetherweaver]

Nero is in a good mood - he's met someone quite nice, but... he doesn't want to talk about it. He can't - his father will tell him to not give in to distractions. He looks over at Kai and rolls his eyes at the nudge. "I know, I know." He nudges back a little bit and chuckles.

"Have you been doing all right?"

[bashasasdemon]

"Well enough." He doesn't like this kind of thing, but he's not going to bring that up right now. "You look happy." He assume it's just because this is going off so well. It seems that way from the lower chambers here, at least- he has no idea how it's going behind closed doors.