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unfinishedlibrary2026-02-07 12:18 pm
libraryassistants) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2026-02-07 12:18 pm
Entry tags:
- blade runner: kd6-3.7,
- doctor who: the tenth doctor,
- ffxiv: nara'a sunvara,
- good omens: crowley,
- legend of zelda botw: link,
- maidensong magica: claire ryland,
- original: iren suto,
- sonic the hedgehog (film): shadow,
- the rising world: kaiisteron,
- the wonders of mundus: hikaru aozora,
- the wonders of mundus: laina guthart,
- the wonders of mundus: siobahn greenwood,
- ~moonlit rivals
wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 2, SCENE 1
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 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.
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.
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.
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!]
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!]
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
"I suppose we are not, my lord," she says, and her accent is that of someone of high birth even if she smells and seems mortal. "And I have seen some of that work. Your players... they were friends, once, of my mother's. It truly was an experience to watch them here, in such a place that I might otherwise have no chance to see."
She smiles, softly. "I am surprised you are not inside where all the dancing is."
no subject
The remark about dancing though... "I - well. It is probably expected that I do, and yet... I needed to get away from all of their eyes." His gaze flicks in the direction of the balcony, hidden from them at the moment due to the placement of the bushes and trees. He looks back at her and shrugs one shoulder. "Many of them are there to see me fall, should they have a chance to cause it. But you... I get the sense that you are not one of them."
Cautiously, he reaches out a hand, palm up. It's cold, but hopefully not terribly so with the gloves. "We can still hear the music from here. Would you... care to dance with me? And do not be afraid if you do not know the steps. I can teach you... or if you step on my feet, it won't bother me. I've stepped on my own enough times."
no subject
After a long moment of hesitation, she takes his gloved hand in her own. "Please," she says, softly. "Do not worry that I do not know the steps. I have been taught to dance. And I should like to with you."
no subject
He steps forward and puts his other hand on her waist, listening as the music turns towards a waltz. He starts moving, confident that she'll move with him.
"It is strange, dancing with someone who I haven't known for a very long time. And yet... I think that it is good for me, no? I do not get out enough, as much as I would like to..."
no subject
no subject
Oh. Oh no. His eyes go wide. His grip tightens slightly, before he relaxes. They came in peace. They came to a party, and they will be treated as guests so long as they don't overstay their welcome. If he were human his breath would be hitching, but as it is he isn't subject to such rules.
He does lower his voice even more, trying to focus on what she's saying. Her father as well... "My own took me in when I was young. We are not family by mortal blood, but that matters little." He was created into what he is now by his father, but even before that he was still as good as family. "But I imagine he is not what most would consider a... kind father. I know his heart is good, but he simply..."
Well. He shouldn't speak of Maria to an outsider. "He has his reasons for acting as he does. As does Master Guildulf, I imagine?" He raises an eyebrow.