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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!]
Rakia Amarga | Reader
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 likeHe'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?"
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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.
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"One of these days I will explain why I adopted a 'Gallente' accent and why I pretend to be from 'the Beauforte,' but not here," Hikaru Aozora says. "For now, Lucas Azuresky, of Clan Tremere, at thy service."
He raises a goblet of something dark red and viscous, as if in salute.
"And I just found out I can write in my journal such that it will show up in every other Reader's, so I'll keep us informed. What have you found out, Rakia?"
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Look, if he's going to judge Hikaru's shitty accent, he's going to judge his own shitty cover story. It's only fair.
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He shudders.
"I can tell you that I was right. Nero and Sigrid danced under the moonlight and charmed each other. And that's a relief. Thank Flamma that's done with. Now all we need is for that not to be fatal."
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"So what do we do in order to make sure that isn't fatal?"
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He snakes his fingers under his mask to pinch the bridge of his nose, readjusting it when he's done. "But Lord Umbra has forbidden me from teaching the trick to Sigrid or indeed any other wolf. Which is... frustrating. And that wouldn't be proof against silver in any case."
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[The Garden]
Well. Is someone yet harried, but somehow calm. The night drags on towards the height of the moon, and it may be she feels it, just a touch. For a moment, she lets Rakia rest, before clearing her throat.
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For is she not a shadow of her former self?
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