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

[angel_of_baal]

"Protect. Only." He will not attack. First, it would be illogical to start trouble in the heart of the enemy's own kingdom. "There is too much hostility between our kinds." It's getting in the way of the quiet life of astronomy that he wants. Such a hassle. And he won't say it, but his father's position is not as solid as the Umbrans seem to think.

"I would rather you view my presence as an attempt to honor your family, if not an attempt to guarantee peace." It's not much, but it's sincere. It was an attempt, if misguided, to acknowledge the power of the Umbran clan, by coming as a guest, if not honored.

[aetherweaver]

"There is." That, he cannot and will not deny. "And I do appreciate it - I only worry for your safety. This is -"

There are too many eyes here. He gestures for Sigwulf to follow him towards one of the private rooms. It's not strange for him to do so - he's done it several times tonight already. "Come with me. We should not speak of business out here." His voice raises a little, so that it will be heard he will be unavailable for a brief time.

[angel_of_baal]

"Your concern is appreciated." It's no light statement. To him it's proof that though they might be rivals in the city, they need not be enemies. There was something rational and good in them both.

He hoped the other would see the same in him: that he was more than the feral snappings of some of the pups outside.

Part of him wonders if this is a trap, but without trust, he tells himself, there can be no solution to the slow tearing apart of the city, the slow nibbling of both factions to duels and needless death. "Lead the way."

[aetherweaver]

He leads the other into a dark sitting room, all reds and blacks. The room itself is dark - most of them have little need for light. He closes the door and shifts the curtain slightly so there's a bit of light, out of consideration for his guest. There are a few plush couches and chairs set in a rough circle, and Nero falls into one of the chairs with an audible sigh.

Maybe it's a strange noise for a vampire to make, given his lack of breath, but it's a habit.

"I don't know how you received an invitation, and it's likely better I not ask." If Sigwulf had stated his full name to ask for an invitation... the Guidufs are not exactly unknown to them, as much as the Umbra are not unknown to those on the other side of town. "... Know that while I find some of your methods -" Distasteful? Barbaric? "- questionable, I have no desire to see such things tear the town apart. Would that we could convince our sires of the same."

He's already tired, and he knew there would be werewolves here, but... "There are those who have instructions to turn your kind and kin out by their ears. For the love of all that is holy and unholy to both of us, please keep your nature a secret. I've no desire to turn this place into a brawl or worse." And he'd be expected to make sure it is finished, even should it not be his place to initiate it. "Do not tell me how many of your people are here - the less I know the more safe they are. You are... aware of my sire's gifts, yes?"

[angel_of_baal]

He's sure the dimness is not some sort of trick: the Umbrans despising bright light was apparently no mere myth or affectation. Sigwulf is unsure if he should stand or sit--his father always commanded him to stand when talking to him, until ordered to sit, but he moved to perch, gently, on a chair.

He snuck in with the actors but he will keep his quiet about that, so as not to endanger them, merely tilting his head and shrugging his shoulders as though that was not important. In the scheme of things, it wasn't.

His hackles rise even as he sees Nero struggling for a less barbed word. "We could say the same of your methods, so perhaps we could consider that point a wash." His kind, he considered, hunted fairly, with the old methods, where prey had a chance to run and escape. Nothing like the maze in the gardens below. "We each act according to the natures given us, let that truth stand between us."

[aetherweaver]

The discomfort is noted. "Please be at ease. I am not my sire, despite my status. I do not demand you stay at attention." And perhaps he could have put the point better, but there it is. They do take volunteers - the maze is an old custom, nothing more. But he can't expect them to know, much as he's aware he does not know all of their methods.

"Listen to my words then, if you will. It is not well known, but there are those among the neutral zone who have known me to be there, from time to time. Neither of our sires know this, I suspect - nor should they. But I do not demand obeisance, not to the degree my Lord does. I have no desire to, only enough to keep the other clans in line. Their methods are even more barbaric - I have heard some places where they hunt prey widely, sowing terror. I have no desire for such things."

He looks Sigwulf over, folding his hands onto his knees. "Hear me, Sigwulf Guiduf. I was taken in to this house, I was not born to it. I owe everything to it, including my name. I desire peace, as much as I can move my sire towards it - but I dare not make my actions overt. He is... troubled, I fear. Much of it I will not speak of - and even more of it I do not know. Should something move him to act in a negative way, he will act swiftly and efficiently, and I will have no standing to stop him. No right to do so, nor ability. And he is my father in all ways that matter. His desires should be my desires."

Should. And for the most part are, except...

[angel_of_baal]

Sigwulf gives a soft laugh. "I think your father and mine have more in common than either would want to realize." Because just about everything Nero is saying is true for Roberte.

"The other packs are the same--they do not see as we do, the need for stability. They push for change, for more territory. They do not understand compromise. My father, at least, and my family, does. I am here tonight because I fear they will attempt to cause trouble here and I would hope my presence would dissuade them. It was a risk, but one that the peace of the city is worth." At least he thinks so.

"I do not think there will ever be true peace between our families, with our fathers...as they are." Roberte, exacting, unmoving, set in his ways. But his ways had kept the family, and the various packs, in line. His ways were worth something. "But the future cannot be a copy of the past. The stars disallow it."

[aetherweaver]

"I see." His reasoning is sound, even if the mere idea of werewolves here is giving him a headache. "I don't know about the stars, as gorgeous as they are. But I know that the future must be better than the past. We must find a way to bring the two into some form of peace. More formally than... whatever the mess we have currently is."

A peaceful mess, but unstable. One false move could bring the opposing forces of vampires and werewolves to blows, never mind what sort of infighting is taking place in each of the factions already. "Though I dare not think of what the city would be like without my father." Could he hold everyone together? He's not sure. He needs maybe another century, but do they have that long? Lord Umbra is powerful, but they're never totally safe.

In which I radically unfuck my fuckup lol

[angel_of_baal]

"I only hope your side is not without the internal tensions of mine." Is he spilling pack secrets here? He imagines not. The Umbrans have plenty of ears on the ground, daywalkers and night: the other packs vying for supremacy is no secret.

"The stars speak of upheaval in the immediate future for the city--in love and war. They do not foretell disaster, that I can see, but...radical change." That he hopes can get steered to the good.

whoosh, nothing happened.

[aetherweaver]

"It has its issues, yes. We are not the only clan around, of course - there are others who would wish to rule this city in our stead. We can keep them at bay, and we must - for the city would be much worse off than it is if they did take power."

The stars? He's not sure he's ever heard the stars speak... though he's aware that there are some who practice strange magics that he could never comprehend. "I imagine the stars were not specific, otherwise you would tell me." Or he would be made to be told, either way. "... Regardless, it is good to know this. It feels as if we are all at a tipping point, where things could slide one way or another."

you are so kind to let me fix it!

[angel_of_baal]

"The same is true of our kind. Whatever you may think of my pack, we are the best hope for a future of safety. We hunt with rules. We respect territory." Including Umbran territory.

"Others do not seem to want a future other than one ruled by blood and fang." The Umbrans might think Sigwulf's family has only a veneer of civilization, but at least they have that much.

"Please understand it is as I said: I came here not as a show of dominance, but as an attempt to keep the peace, to keep my own kind in line."

[aetherweaver]

"Good. I am glad. The blood that is spilled should be done so by choice, not by fang." He lets his hands fall to his sides. "Our houses, even opposed - we do have our own reasons for our actions. Our respective factions have very fragile measures of peace, from what I understand."

Then there's the neutral zone... "I do wish we could stop the random scuffles... but I fear doing so will only create more tension that will bubble over into violence."

[angel_of_baal]

"Fangs can protect as well as harm." He hates the idea that so many in Montica have, of his kind as unruly, good only to tear down, to be violent.

"We have been doing what we can to control the younger pups, but some of their sires resent my father, and nurse their old injuries as insults." And then they raise packs of youngsters, steeped in resentment about battles they never fought. "My father does not," And this is perhaps a shameful thing to admit but he'd rather admit it than make the other think he does not care, "invite me into his counsel about that. Sigrid would know more."

[aetherweaver]

"... Of course." Even if he still thinks they're more brutal than they need be. It would be indelicate to point that out, however.

Even so... "We have done what we can to quash the uprisings from other clans - but we can only directly discipline those that are of our House. Putting political pressure on the others is... much more difficult. Generally I am allowed to some of the political meetings, but the more delicate ones are not always ones I am invited into." And as much as he's the person his sire seems to trust more than anyone, he doesn't know his whole mind, even after all these years.