Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Official Masquerade Topic - Winter 2020

Oh!! From the way he’s jumping up and down, he’s pretty excited! He even holds out his paintbrush like a sword—do lions have swords? This one does!

He does slow down a little though, a little sheepish. Is she sure? What about the invitation?

The Sword folded his hands behind his back and tried to stand a little straighter. It wouldn't do to sulk at this magical place. He heard a voice from behind him and glanced back towards Alfred. "'Tis a time-keeper, lord," he said, his green eyes returning to the softly glowing bloom. The enchantment still had a few hours left--there was still time left for him to find the Sun.

Upon witnessing the way their host graciously tried to redistribute a favor, the falcon carefully set aside his glass. That cobalt parcel was secured to a hip, bound by the golden rope which kept it drawn shut. He was inwardly grateful that the other's attempt enabled him to avoid any awkwardness. The stranger was still mulling over the matter of the soiree itself when another mystery resurfaced: that of the very tiny thing which had been bolting across the gala's ground. He was certain that was it, scooting beneath a bowl some ways away, though the hostess herself had already spied it. With the loose engagement of one reading an excellent book, he watched with a mesmerized mien. Of all things, it was a wonderfully small, perfectly charming puppet. It moved in a way unbefitting a mechanism; there was no stiffness to the smallest partygoer, but in fact something organic about the way it was smashing an invitation against its own face. It seemed to be asking the same question the falcon had been wondering for some time: how, and why, had the invites reached them? Perhaps some mysteries were best left unsolved, and the investigative bird would be left with this inexplicable memory, like a dream from one's childhood. One new tidbit he had discovered was among the few certainties- that he did not care for brandy. With many eyes upon the hostess, or directed at her most mysterious rose, the falcon deftly dumped the contents of his cup into a nearby potted plant. One trouble solved.

The Duchess does not seem to understand the implied question about the invitation, simply saying, "Oh, now that you're past the guards you can set that aside. You are most welcome here," and extends a hand as a flat platform for the puppet to step onto. "And on my shoulder!"

As the Sword and Alfred gaze on the rose, another petal falls from it -- but gazing so long at the magic thing produces a warm, almost drunken feeling, and strange, fleeting urges to dance, to leap, to grab hold of the rose and never let the feeling leave...

He scratches the back of his head, a little more than confused. Was the invitation not lost then? Maybe the person threw it away? The lady seemed to think it was his though...

He shrugs, folding it up and tucking it neatly between the pages of his sketchbook-turned-backpack. Just in case.

Besides, there was another quest at hand! He carefully steps on to her hand, and he’s a little nervous from the height at first. He’ll be okay as soon as he ‘takes a seat’ though!

"A time-keeper?" Alfred repeated, looking at the rose confusedly, though no one could tell with his cumbersome mask. He also blushed at the title "Lord", but that also didn't show. His eyes briefly lingered on the man, trying to see his face behind his covering and looking away before he caught wise. "I didn't know such a thing existed in this world." He studied the anomaly a few seconds more before a feeling of glee and euphoric elation seemed to take hold of him. What was in that wine? Perhaps he drank more than he thought.

"What if I..." His words fell from him as if he were in a daze. With his eyes in a trance-like state, he reached a hand out and would touch the orb, trying to grab the flower if nothing happened beyond that.

*he walks in looking around he was wearing a plain white mask and black suit as he look around grabbing a drink.He watch everyone trying to stay away from people.*

Gyr was the sort who appreciated invitations to parties, but when the time came to mix and mingle, he was far more likely to be found socializing with the host's cat, dog, or other pettable pet. Thus far, though he had largely enjoyed playing the part of a silent spectator, he did not have the pleasure of finding any animals. Instead he had given a glass of brandy to a plant. Yet many had left and roamed back into the event. Perhaps it was safe to explore the estate...? Surely, if there was anywhere he wasn't welcome to tread, a door would be locked or a guard would be present. On muted steps, the inquisitive guest excused himself from the gathering to wander for a time.

Carefully, she raises Look to her shoulder and sees that he gets settled there. "Now, our first task, little one, is to--" She had been turning toward the Gyrfalcon, but whirls abruptly, the smile vanishing from her face. She moves in a blur, almost appearing next to Alfred, her hand reaching out to grip his wrist like an iron vice. "I understand," she says solemnly, her eyes a pool of unending black. "The desire for winter festivities to last forever. But you mustn't get too close to the fire, lest it burn you. Do you understand?"

Alfred was successfully, and fiercely, pulled from his trance and flinched as someone grabbed his arm like a tight rope. It was the duchess herself! Alfred blinked, his first reaction having been violence, though he was glad he could stop himself. His mind profusely thanked his new feelings of giddy glee. He nodded his head briskly when she asked if he understood, wishing she would just stop touching him already. "I understand," he said, backing up his nodding.

The Duchess turns her eyes toward the Sword. "You, sir, are a protector, and now I charge you to protect this man from himself. The rose calls to him. Who knows what other festive urges he may find himself over indulging in for the rest of the night?" As her eyes flick back toward Alfred, they resume their normal golden appearance, the pupils once again a normal size, and she releases his hand.

The Sword felt his woes melting away in the warm light of the rose, and a dopey smile soon curled his lip. It was a warmth as alluring as the light of the sun, wasn't it ... ? He was snapped from his trance when Alfred reached for it, and was stopped by their host. The fire could burn you, she said. It was a sobering thought. The sun had burned him, too. "I ... I could use some w-wine," he muttered, not knowing the Mari Lwyd had absconded with it. But then he was charged with a task. "O-oh, aye, my lady," the Sword stammered, bowing deeply. "Of course."

He’s very excited to hear the first task, but the sudden turn throws him off—luckily, not too literally, as he does grab tight in time. But the sudden seriousness of the situation has him concerned, first for the lady, then for the strange man.

He then looks to the Sword—a fellow protector! He’s not brave enough to stand on his kind ride’s shoulder, but he gives him a small salute in solidarity.

*he look over at the duchess his eyes were green as he bow his head he didnt really show he was a prince and he kept it that way he wanted be treated equally like everyone else as he watch everyone around him.He tried go in the corner and stay away from people he was afraid of certain things*

Alfred would be unaware that he was looking at the host as if she were an alien--and hell, maybe she was!--and thinking how strange it was for her to act so brashly. She not only acted differently, she looked differently too. Scary, even. He had to be the one to upset her, didn’t he? And for what? He looked at the rose again, and again it started to magnetize him with beauty most rare. No. He shook his head, ridding himself of it’s pull and looking back to the duchess again. She still had his arm. He could feel his pulse in his temples and he worked to push whatever was riling him up down. He wished he couldn’t smell her.

When she gave the other rose onlooker the orders, Alfred looked at him like a sad, pitiful dog. That too was mostly hidden, but it was all over his eyes. The truth of it was, he did not understand what she had meant about the flower. Last forever? Get burned.? And why could he no longer be trusted?! He only tried to touch it once. He frowned looking back to the host again before she released his arm, which he immediately drew to his chest, rubbing his wrist like a pouty child.

((Sorry, y'all. Lost track of time and had things to do. I'm trying to catch up as best as I can.))

Aspen had a few treats and a drink in him, but he was having a blast-despite the snow cloud. He danced, talked to a few people, looked outside at the moonlight...it was something an ice mage like him could ever dream of. He then noticed other people interacting with each other, and he sighed. Aspen started feeling a bit worn out from all the excitement and snow that was around him. He walked inside and sat down on a chair near one of the tables, by the dancefloor. He looked around once more as he stuffed another treat into his mouth. If only Miracle was here to see this, he thought to himself as he remembered his sister. Aspen looked down at the floor, took off his mask for a second, and wiped his face.

"Very good." says the Duchess to the Sword. "And you," she says to Alfred, "In return for your new guardian's assistance this evening, are to help him in his quest to find the Sun. This is only fair, as I'm sure you'll agree." It does not appear to be a question, just a statement of fact. The way things must be balanced. Her smile returns, as if nothing at all has happened. "Where did you last see this Sun of yours?"

She casts a glance toward Hanabil, crooking a finger to invite him closer if he wished to involve himself.

"The sun??" Alfred asked, incredulously. He didn't think he would be so loud in a crowd, but he also felt as if he were on drugs. He quickly looked at The Sword, eyes as bewildered as they could muster, and asked, "Go to sleep and you'll find the sun soon enough!"

The Dragoness had remained silently observing for a while, interested in the tiny being that had taken up residence on the Duchess' shoulder. Her calm observation turned to mild concern as she realized by the hostess' startled behavior that something was amiss. Her gaze followed the woman to where the white, time-keeping rose was displayed, watching the events that unfolded before realizing one of the two people observing the magical flower was the Sword, the man she'd met when she first arrived.

He, along with the Duchess, her small companion, and a being who seemed to have been reprimanded by the host; the Dragoness considered approaching, if only because she knew two of the group--barely--but instead held back, uncertain as to whether or not any of it was her business and continuing to watch with a thoughtful eye.