Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Official Masquerade Topic - Winter 2020

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.