The Beaumont Ball [Player Event][CLOSED]

[El]

Suddenly - as if manifesting into being overnight! - an overwhelming multitude of identical posters have appeared all over Hyrule! In every stable, every major settlement, sometimes even nailed to lonesome Hudson Construction posts in the middle of nowhere, trapped inside window shutters, appearing on laundry lines and peeping out of your grandma's savings jar...? There's even a front-page feature on it in the latest edition of the Lucky Clover Gazette! Though perhaps you were given the honour of a personal invite instead: its sky-blue envelope discovered upon your windowsill or amongst your belongings. The same Beaumont family crest (of a mountain framed by beautiful curling clouds) stamped into its gold, wax seal crowns also the many public posters.

Framed by gilded borders, and written upon large swathes of thick vellum, the elegant calligraphy reads as follows:

★MAGICAL MASQUERADE★
~ A Beaumont Ball ~

Calling one and all to the Beaumont Ball! A celebration of prosperous new beginnings and opportunity!

With the reconstruction of Castle Town, the Beaumonts have decided to open the doors of their brand new estate not for a simple housewarming party but for a grand masquerade ball! All are welcome, regardless of race or background! This is a time for festivity and celebrations, for crafting magical memories and perhaps even an opportunity to see your personal dreams realised... if you're lucky enough to have your wish plucked from the 'Wishing Well'.

Let your creativity run wild with your own personal interpretation of the 'Magical' theme and come dressed to impress! (Will YOU be crowned the Queen/King of the Ball?!) Dance to your hearts' content and feast upon a banquet of ample, free food, all to the tunes of talented musicians throughout. Perhaps you'll even win something from the Remarkable Raffle?

Purse feeling a little too light for the affair...? Intimidated by the thought of acquiring or tailoring an outfit? Fear not! Above all else the Beaumonts request that you bring yourselves, costume or nay, raffle ticket or nay: what matters most is that you show up and enjoy all the night has to offer! After all it wouldn't be a Ball without you all~★

The celebration will begin at sunset and last until the dawn of the next day, for a full night of dreams and magic!

~ Held on the First Full Moon of Spring, at the Beaumont Estate, North-Eastern Castle Town ~

(Entry subject to available space)

Remarkable Raffle tickets can be purchased for 5 rupees each on the night of the event. (Limited to one per person.) All funds raised will be matched by the Beaumont family and donated in their entirety to fund local orphanages and schools. The prizes are as follows:

• 1st PRIZE: A 'Blupee Paw Pendant'. A unique, magical artifact that glows with sparkling, silvery-blue power. Can be worn as a necklace or bracelet. Comes upon a beaded gold chain and features a sealed locket in the shape of a stylised Blupee paw. Enchanted with a mystical magic, this pretty but elegant piece of jewellery is said to shield its wearer from certain death. Unfortunately this spell can only trigger once, after which its protection shall perish. Fortunately it shall still have its uses as a good luck charm! Whispers say it'll attract auspicious monetary fortune...
• 2nd PRIZE: 2-years of investment to either boom your business into greater heights of success or kickstart your dream venture (business and financial advisors included, along with ample networking opportunities and cash injections) OR a fully-paid, sponsored scholarship for the Academy of Magic (including accommodation, study materials and a monthly living allowance)
• 3rd PRIZE: An all-inclusive week-long trip to the newly built Goflam's Secret Hot Spring Resort (covering up to 5 people for an entirely private vacation - premises are fully rented! Travel expenses, food, drink and extra luxuries for your comfort included) OR a cash sum of 3,000 rupees.

(All prizes listed above can be gifted to a loved one or friend of the winner's choice.)

The King and Queen of the Magical Masquerade shall be crowned with exquisite, bejewelled diadems upon the conclusion of the Midnight Dance and a personal wish - each - granted! (Terms and conditions of reasonable feasibility applied.) They shall also have the honour of blindly drawing a wish from the Wishing Well - filled, free-of-charge by the Ball's attendees. (Selected wishes shall be honoured post-Ball due to the likely preparation required.)
        Candidates MUST be in costume in order to qualify. The King shall be nominated by popular vote. The Queen shall be chosen by Ciel Beaumont herself. (In the spirit of fairness, all Beaumonts, Royals and Champions are automatically prohibited from earning either title. NOTE: Gender is irrelevant to selection. Anyone can be King or Queen regardless of chosen pronouns.)

Player Info

As the poster itself mentions, all are welcome! I have no max or minimum character limit in mind, but I will be closing the 'event doors' to any new attendees once the first round of posting has concluded.

Your character(s) may attend for the ball itself, or even be a part of providing the festivities! (Whether that's as a hired hand in the kitchen, a performer, part of the security or more.) The 'Remarkable Raffle' prizes will be randomly distributed to attendees (who have mentioned in their posts owning/buying a ticket) via an online generator towards the very end of the event. While even players who don't participate in the event at all can take part in the King vote once the poll opens!

This Player-Ran Event by yours truly shall begin on the 18th April, kickstarted by a post I shall make setting the scene. (If you have any further questions feel free to contact me on Discord!)

[close]

[El]

Event Post

As the sun began its ambling descent, painting the sky in silken swathes of colour, stars, eager and abundant, began to twinkle in its darkest hues. A scattering of birds soared across the broad expanse, momentarily eclipsed by the looming silhouette of Hyrule Castle. But no longer was it the only notable structure in this head of the region, the seedlings of a town reborn already reaching proud new heights of towering stone and shimmering slate. Once a symbol of Hyrule's darkest hours, aswirl with ghastly gloom, now the Castle burned alight with the fire of the sun's last rays - the jewel in the crown of hope renewed.

Yet, as scenic as the sky and its horizons were, the people below it were far too absorbed in much more immediate excitements. The grand, silvered gates of the Beaumont Estate were bustling with activity, a long and yet still growing line of brilliantly costumed visitors collecting with growing impatience. As they fiddled with the folds of their garments, sharing excited whispers and giggling amongst themselves, finally the time came.

The last searing shard of sunset faded. Dusk settled. Down sunk the heavy, velvet curtains of a newborn night.

A hush of silence fell across the crowd.

Anticipation bubbled.

Then, a tiny voice giddily cried out, as a small boy upon his father's shoulders pointed up at the sky, "Look, Daddy!!! LOOK! A BUNNY!!!"

And so there was! A little - no giant! - Blupee was bounding through the darkness atop the Beaumont mansion, as if hopping upon the scant clouds themselves! Illuminated paws found purchase upon fine wisps of unspun cotton, one blinking frame at a time, leaving dazzling explosions of sparkles in its wake.

No, this was no real Blupee: these were fireworks. A sequence of overlapping flashes and blooms. A stop-motion animation exploding in carefully engineered quiet before fizzling into the darkness of memory.

But, even as the illusion was shattered with the dawn of realisation upon many of its wiser onlookers, the spectacle was still exactly that - and magical. Onwards the fantastical creature leapt, until the glittering stars at its tail-end unfurled and expanded into elaborate blossoms. One flower became several, then several became many, overlapping petals and twirling stems filling the sky with an elaborate, shimmering lacework. Painted with explosive powder was a glacial blue and brilliant gold bouquet, twinkling with animated glamour. It was the perfect announcement of welcome, an enchanting banner strewn across the crown of the Beaumont Estate gates as its proud silver steel yawned open.

Waiting on the other side were lines of stylishly clad staff, their sleek uniform of blues and crisp whites punctuated with pearly masks tall with golden-budded ears - and fluffy tails upon their backsides?! Warm, but professional, they swiftly brought order to the chaos of excitement that awaited them, filtering the guests into one long organised queue. Stamps of entry were pressed upon the back of every visitors' hand: the symbol of a little blue fairy in Luminous Stone ink. (Though they assured many a guest - upon noticing some distress - that the concoction was easily washable with a good, soapy scrub!)

Into those same bewildered hands a slate and-... chalk? were then passed - one set for every attendee. Only the slate wasn't slate at all, but a palm-sized, metallic plate moulded into the shape of a rupee. And the chalk didn't crumble like chalk! It was smooth - almost waxy - sharpened to a fine point, and to a discerning eye, contained the same Luminous Stone ink as their fairy stamp.

Many swiftly noted how the colours of their 'slates' differed too, and there quickly began a game amongst the younger members of the crowd as they bargained with each other to exchange one jewelled hue for another: just in case that rich red or regal purple were of higher value than the pretty greens. And if you had gold? You'd be in high demand for sure! ...Whether the colour of your rupee slate ACTUALLY mattered or not was yet to be seen. If at all.

Either way, the queue was funnelled in a gradual trickle to the courtyard proper. A beautiful garden to many, no doubt, though it was young still and in the midst of growing. Greenery was abundant, rich with countless clusters of budding flowers, the grass lush and the foliage unfettered. It was trimmed, yes, and there was an organised intention, but for the most part the garden held a very wild yet elegant quality, welcoming even weeds in moderation to the thriving little ecosystems. Vines had begun climbing their trellises. Replanted trees stood tall even in their youth. Occasionally you'd spy the drooping bell of a Blue Nightshade or the fresh bloom of a Swift Violet - the first few blossoms to brave the luscious enclosures.

Through it all wove an irregular mosaic of pale flagstone, the paths generously decorated with long garden benches. The ornate ironwork of tall garden lamps were paired also with an accessory tied about their branching necks: pearlescent conch shells of some description which hummed with echoed music. The tune was a gentle one, but no lullaby, instead full of ebbing waves of delighted, sprightly rhythm spun from an array of different instruments and every family therein. It was delicate. Whimsical. Layered. Building. A song of fantastical anticipation that twinkled and chimed alongside the growing expanse of stars and their rising full moon.

"Please make sure to record your wish upon your slate, signed with your name." Reminded the servants as the attendees made their way through the garden. White-gloved hands directed stray lost souls back upon the intended paths, curious children ushered into the company of their equally distracted parents and roadblocks of admiration - or squabbling slate-traders - cordially dispersed. "Then throw it into the Wishing Well's basin! It is right up ahead."

Of course the 'Wishing Well' was no unassuming structure. A far cry from some humble collection of cobbled stone and aged wooden frame, the well was in fact no well at all! For in the very centre of the courtyard instead stood a majestic, towering fountain. Its rushing waters glittered with light - and magic? Its inner base shimmered with opal rainbow hues. Each tier of sculpted marble was constructed of large, overlapping petals, swirling with framing filigree. And upon it all - as if crowning a cake - there danced a bejewelled Zora of foreign origin.

She pranced and twirled, chimed and jingled. A long gossamer veil hid her eyes, but even 'blind' she was the epitome of grace, balancing as if upon the strands of music itself. Costume, membrane wings protruded from her back, aflutter, and from her swirling fins of blurring colour scattered glowing motes of golden light. Light which, upon escaping the entrancing spectacle, was dispersed into the garden proper, birthing sparkling fairies. These little mechanical creatures wandered amongst the guests, fluttering past wide eyes and occasionally finding rest.

"Wishes should be cast into the basin of the fountain please!" Another servant reminded. "The ballroom doors shall open shortly."

In the meantime refreshments were bountiful. Settled upon a bench? Caught admiring the garden? Still deliberating what to scribble on your slate? A silver platter would be presented whenever it felt apt, an array of colourful drinks offered to idle mouths. "Perhaps you'd care for a Goron Spiced Ale, ma'am?"
"Perchance a Noble Pursuit?"
"A cloudy Golden Apple Juice for the young lady?"
Or maybe you'd spy the frosted glass of a Wildberry and Hydromelon slushie crushed with Ice Fruit, or a lightly salted 'Monster Cocoa' if you were feeling more adventurous. There was even a creamy, rich liqueur on offer by the name of 'Chateau Romani'. A little something for everyone! And of course, fret not if you declined originally and felt the sting of regret shortly after: many other waiting staff stood to the side, at the ready with a full platter of their own.

Yet, for all the merriment... do be careful not to cause trouble.

You might not see them just yet - unless your eyes are sharp and your mind clear of distraction - but in the shadows there stood horned silhouettes. They did not move. Did they even breathe? Nonetheless they were there, and they were countless, spears in hand or hand upon sheathe.

★~ THE BEAUMONT BALL EVENT HAS NOW BEGUN ~★

An Event Post to progress the story will be posted every two to three weeks.
There will likely be three to five rounds of these 'official' posts in total, the last of which will end the event.

[Rex Draco]

It didn't take long for the first guest to arrive.

He wore a great blue cloak over his shoulders that ran all the way down to the floor and would kick up against his heels as he walked. It was a deep cobalt blue and the hood was lined with a flaxen trim that, under the moonlight, made the male's skin almost glow. Beneath the hooded mantle was a ribbed cuirass of armor that seemed akin to the plates of a dodongo's belly scales. They were a silver-white that had a matte finish giving them a dull, non-reflective surface. He wore a pair of loose sarouel trousers that were deep cerulean blue. It contrasted against the black, leather gaiters he wore over his shins which seemed to guard a hefty pair of black boots. Beneath the cuirass one could see the white blouse that was worn by the man, though it seemed stained a faint blue as it mirrored the colors of the surrounding cloak.

Atop his head he wore a wide-brimmed, leather petasos that was black in color. It shrouded his eyes from view and gave him a noble countenance as one would only be able to see the man's sharp chin and deep frown. Whoever it was, did not appear to be Hylian in any way as in the stead of peach or chestnut colored skin the fellow had a coat of fine, blue scales that seemed edges with a translucent sea-green color. Around his neck he wore a multitude of glittering, ebony necklaces, akin to what sorcerers of olde were once known to wear. These raven lavaliere were carved into squared shapes all chiseled with lines inlaid into its design. At the center of one of the necklaces was a deep-green stone filled with a swirling wind. Whenever one looked into the gem it seemed to move...

he was dressed like a Wizzrobe, or so it seemed.

Upon receiving the stamp on the back of his gloved hand the man looked down to observe the sigil. He couldn't help but click his teeth at the sight of it, seemingly disappointed in it only being some luminous ink. He pulled the blue gloves back down over his hand and made sure his fingers were fully covered. If not for the male's blue scales and the head-fin hanging behind the petasos one would have easily mistaken him for a Hylian at first glance. His costume would be obvious to those told stories as children of Witches and Sorcerers who traveled from town to town telling fortunes and casting away a plague of toads from the local well. Some stories were more haunting than others, but more times than naught the tales spoke of their affinity to aide troubled citizens in their time of need.

To any other Zora his markings were unrecognizable, to any Hylian he was straight out of an old tome. For Goron there was perhaps a feeling of apprehension, but only for the oldest of stones whose grudges from the past were difficult to forget. When he received his rupee-shaped tablet the aquatic visitor looked down at the empty board. His covered fingers brushed over the grey-black surface, the chalk clutched into his curled thumb. They were expected to write down a wish, something they most desired. He pressed the writing instrument between his fingers before pressing the chalk's tip to the board.

In finely tuned motions the man scrawled words upon the surface, the elegant script illegible to the most uneducated. It was an old way of writing that was all but abandoned these days for sigils and runes, but he still remembered how to use the connected letters and flowing symbols. They had once served a purpose in the old magic, but had long since been forgotten. When it came to inscribing his name, he hesitated. Beneath the darkness of the cap's brim his glowing eyes trembled. He pressed down more firmly, dredging the courage from the depths of his soul. HIs hand swirled up and curled down before fully drawing out the name.

But no one would remember it, there was no one left.

Discarding the chalk he would take another look at the board.

"How reminiscent..." He observed the deep blue board, turning it about as he pondered. Setting aside his thoughts he moved to throw it into the well's basin.

He looked up to the gem encrusted statue, its luxurious design reminding him of himself, in a way. He touched his gloved finger to his chin, crooked mouth parting as he exhaled. The razor sharp fangs that filled his mouth were that of a predatory shark and hardly the sharp, fish-eating protrusions of usual Zora. It was as if the man hunted much larger prey... After tossing it aside he would look around. There were so many foods he didn't recognize. It was like being placed onto a foreign land. Hydromelons, glistening glasses of golden beverages and dark, sweet smelling drinks as hot as the steams from Death Mountain.

He would step towards the appetizing melon drink. As if he had not seen water in centuries the wizard picked up the frosted glass before taking a spoon. Digging the silvery utensil into the icy confectionery, the man scooped up a spoonful before sliding it into his open mouth, taking care not to bite down on the delicate silverware as to not scratch nor bend it. He had, instead, placed it on the edge of his serrated spears and dipped it back. When the arctic cold treat touched his tongue he was struck with a shiver. As it slid back he was delighted by a savor he had never before consumed. 

"Who made such a thing...?" It was an utter mystery to him. What kind of treat was it and what sort of food made such a flavour?

[Chaosome]

It was an awe inspiring display to say the least, the Beaumonts were clearly sparing no expense to make certain that the Ball was a spectacle to be remembered. Though while all eyes were skyward, watching the fantastical display illuminating the early evening sky, slow steady footfalls carried a tall and somewhat imposing silhouette down the stone streets, talon tipped tread ticking and tapping in a regimented rhythm. Around corners and through darkened alleyways where the shadows lingered and lengthened in the last liminal light of day, casting a veil over the figure as he drew nearer the gathering. A Rito of some persuasion, long of limb and broad of shoulder, but something about the frame seemed... off. The angles were wrong and parts that should be limber seemed stiff and stilted in their movements.

When the fireworks blossomed in the sky and flooded the streets with light, it soon became apparent why.

The Rito's golden eyes glistened in the fading flickering light, but so too did the darkly nacreous, black-and-magenta substance that ran up from his shoulder and across his neck, resting around his right eye. Black spiraled spikes jutted out from behind the Rito's right shoulder through holes in the otherwise immaculately kept though old looking robe of blue and gold, the breast of which carried an odd and ancient seeming emblem sewn into it. Down along his right arm the substance continued, wrapping around the limb until it reached his feathered hand, the digits pointed, almost claw like in appearance. On the back of his palm a dark eye peered around seemingly at random and within his grasp he carried a staff that measured nearly as tall as he was. While whatever substance covered him didn't seem to move, it looked as though it was reaching up from his touch to try and reach a glowing yellow crystal embedded in the gnarled head of the staff. The wooden staff clicked along the stones in time with his steps. The man's left leg, which was fully covered by the dark matter that trailed down from beneath the tattered bottom of the robes, was tipped in vicious looking talons while his right was unaffected.

To the trained eye it would become clear that the man's garments were explicitly tailored to appear ancient and torn and that the Malice that clung to his body and staff were merely expertly crafted prosthetics. To the untrained eyes however the Rito was a frightening reminder of the terrors that had plagued Hyrule for so long. No small measure of gasps and horrified gazes fell upon him as he pressed forward and came to a stop at the back of the queue leading to Beaumont Manor. Many stood in stock still silence, others clung closer together in huddled worrie, some whispered among themselves. A young girl clinging to her mother's dress stared up at the towering Rito from a distance, the only pair of lingering eyes to catch his attention. The bird's head tilted in her direction, eyes peering at her with an inscrutable indifference, with a brief smile and nod of his head he greeted her before turning his gaze back forward. This momentary gesture caused a proverbial sigh of relief to release the tension in the crowd. A costume, nothing more.

With the brief surge of panic subsiding, the chatter soon picked back up and the queue continued forward and so too did the Rito. When he reached the front of the line, the man was met with yet more shocked stares, but for a mercy the staff clearly earned their keep and composed themselves quickly when he held his left hand out to be stamped. "H-here you are, sir." one of the staff said, holding out glittering golden rupee-slate for the Rito. "You need simply record a wish upon the slate, sign your name, and place it within the Wishing Well up ahead."

The Rito took the offered slate and chalk, looking it over for a moment before nodding his head. "My thanks, and a good evening to you." he responded cordially before moving along to let the line continue. Taking a moment to pause and purchase a ticket for the raffle, the Rito soon came to rest at the fountain. Carefully he placed the slate down on the edge and knelt down to write upon it with his free hand, an eloquent and scrawling script, before tossing it into the water with the rest. The prizes one and all were interesting in their own right, but the chance of a wish certainly piqued his curiosity. From whence did they spring? Monetary or magical? What were the limitations if the latter? He supposed the only way to find out was if he were to win. A game of chance as it were. How interesting the outcome could be...

[AmJanky]

Collin/Axel/Ashley

The mask he wore, a phantom's once, reduced to nothing but a tale to scare the young Gerudo vai into behaving. A tale of old, of one such time there was a voe of their blood. That hadn't happened in so long even they had started wondering if it would ever happen again.

He looked around, bored, moving along to the throng of the queue. No grand entrance, not standing out. Safe for the mask he wore he looked rather common, no high thread-count in the fabrics, no elaborate lace or fancy embroideries, no dazzling colours. Mostly browns safe for a long blue coat and a pair of gray riding boots.

Having spotted no one acquainted, he let his hand get stamped after which a slate got pushed into his grasp. He nodded politely and moved along. Surely there were people present he would know? He could always introduce himself to someone he didn't, but that was for later concern. Looking at the Beaumont seal that slowly started to glow.

Having entered the courtyard proper, greeted by many a platter with even more drinks, he grabbed the nearest bubbly and let his gaze roam further. His pupils caught the light in the shadowed recesses of his mask, shining a similar colour to the phantom said to once have donned it. They peered around beyond the opulence and rehearsed drama going on in the courtyard, towards the shadows wherein he found a line of shadowy figures standing at the ready.

"Sentries." He softly cooed into his drink. Why so many, to what purpose, he wondered. Were the Beaumonts simply scared of mischief or were there secrets to be kept from prying eyes? "One has to wonder in this day and age, are they man or machine?"

A glimmer caught his eye then, speaking of man or machine, the first familiar face. Wearing what could only be described as a form fitting bodysuit. Mostly a muted royal blue, a giant red mark of the Sheikah across the chest and his hair twisted into a bun. All that was setting him apart from looking like any other Sheikah ninja was an arm that didn't quite belong with the look, but it certainly belonged to the man that bore it. With a skip to his step and picking up a second glass filled with bubbles, he closed in on the taller Sheikah pressing the glass into human hand, looking up all too smarmily.

"My dear Axel, I half expected you to show up as a guardian."
"Not funny, Collin," the face mask that came with the traditional Sheikah look shielding the world from his smile, though not from his cocked eyebrow "I half expected you to wear a vai Gerudo garb."
"Wow!" Collin exclaimed, pretending to be offended, but continued a little peeved. "Yeah, I really missed a chance there. The thing is, I'm surprised to see a proper Sheikah here, bun and all."
"It's called satire." Axel lowered the mask and took a drink from the glass he was handed.
"I doubt you dare tell your parents that. But we're not here for such business." Collin threw his arms wide and gestured at all of the things to be seen, drinks to be drunk and wishes to be made. "Look at this place, it has been a while since Hyrule's known parties like this. By the way, you got a blue one, wanna trade for my red?"

"I got a blue one for you." The third entry to the conversation used the slate he got pressed into his hands earlier as a makeshift fan and two different coloured eyes looked expectantly over the rim. Collin's lack of elegance, not to mention elaborate lace and fancy embroideries, was a complete opposite to what just introduced himself to them. All lace, all puffed sleeves, all silks.

"Ashley?"
"Hi Axel!"
"Two out of three practice kids!" Collin exclaimed excitedly, landing an arm around the both of them and giving a squeeze, "Now where's your sister?"

[El]

?

There was one waiter who was unlike the rest, albeit in a manner so subtle it was all but lost amongst the high tides of magic the evening already possessed. Drowned out. Outshone. His own sparkle dulled amongst the sea of stars and swirling colours. Yet he still shimmered nonetheless, the favoured son of moonlight who waded through his mother's adoring caress with grace lithe and steps light. He was as familiar with the darkness as he was with manoeuvring great crowds with ease.

A cool night breeze set his cropped waves of glacial-blue aflutter. And while the servant uniform was already flattering in its tailored cuts and trim lines, this young man wore it with a confidence all his own: slender but lean, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist he was its perfect model. There was a luminous sheen to his skin that felt almost ethereal. A decadent gold in the shadowed eyes of his Blupee mask, one mirrored - in just a slither of a shard - in a peek of jewellery over the lip of his high-collar and silken cravat.

Nonetheless, he was but a waiter.

Finishing his original duties at the gate, he collected a laden silver tray from one of his idling colleagues. There was a reluctance there initially - a tightness to her eyes - until in those same dark greens a recognition sparked and she nodded politely, acquiescing.

The tray was heavier than he had imagined. Eugh.

Fighting the flicker of strain that toyed with his lips - if only to maintain his pride - he adjusted the balance of his new load to find something more comfortable. There was an art to its hold, he quickly realised, and in glancing over other examples he quickly absorbed the subtler details that needed to be applied. Good enough. Without further delay he stepped back into the crowds, a self-assured elegance to his every stride and shiny-shoed turn.

First his eyes went towards Raemi as she performed as delightfully as he had expected upon the crown of the Great Fairy themed fountain. So absorbed was she in her role she did not even notice the golden eyes which examined her, appreciating every twisting detail and stroke of painted ink as it dispersed into the ether. Alas, she was not what he was here for: her role was predetermined, there would be no variables in her actions until the ballroom doors yawned open.

So then the waiter's attention swept across the great throngs of colourful guests. He moved amongst them to absorb their gossiping whispers, the delighted titters of naughty jokes or snide remarks, and glanced towards their coloured slates at wishes mid-scribe. A little girl full of frills and pastel hues brushed past him. A mechanical fairy momentarily settled upon his shoulder. And within almost no time at all - blurred as the minutes did one into another - the waiter found himself before a blushing lady as she reached for one of his beverages.

He smiled sweetly at the deepening colour upon her cheeks, his crimson eyelashes lowering with sultry suggestion-.... Only to feel a harsh glare in his peripheral vision. Ah. Another lady. A scowling lady - a proud Gerudo at that, decked out in full armour. Her painted lips strained over her gritted teeth and as she raised a hand to adjust her veil the waiter noticed yet another detail. Aha. HA! The ring upon her finger! The same ring his blushing customer also wore.

The waiter gave a nod of apology and silently excused himself from her company: though not before the Gerudo seized herself a tumbler glass of hard liquor. Do not laugh, he had to remind himself, chiding the chuckle that tickled his throat. He heard the warrior quaff the drink in one fell swoop - to the voiced shock of her partner.

Next... the waiter began to look more closely at a select few individuals. There was a cluster forming up ahead: a trio that met with sparring jabs and quirky smiles, familiarity evident in the comfort of their interactions. The waiter did not recognise two of the men though the third - a spectacularly laced and frilled fellow - inspired a wide, pleased smile. For a moment he considered teasing Ashley with a brush of the shoulder and a duplicitous wink but, no, no there was something else which caught his eye instead: a scaled Wizzrobe.

Without pausing in his stroll so as not to attract undue attention, the waiter observed the guest enjoy an iced berry treat. The wind carried to his perked ears a bemused compliment and with it sparked within the 'Hylian' an idea. For a brief flutter of a moment, his golden eyes flashed towards a feathered fellow evidently infected with Malice. He smirked. Time for action.

Towards another colleague the blue-haired man then waded, under the pretence of off-loading some of his tray's burdens and exchanging certain glasses for others. But as he did so the busied hand softly clinked against the frosted glass of a slushie. Then the silken fingers spun an invisible circle, dotted with a slitted eye and motioned towards the direction of the striking Rito. With a surreptitious sidewards glance, the other waiter nodded in understanding.

And so off the two waiters strode. One - his coworker - a freckled but dapper redhead, moved towards Arcade. While the original, moonchild waiter approached instead Sinnie. In almost perfect, synchronised grace the two bowed their heads and offered each a fresh glass of Wildberry and Hydromelon slushie. The motion was swiftly followed by a silent, explanatory gesture of their head in the other individuals' direction,

That man there-
 That fellow there-
   -would like you
     -to have
       -this drink.

It was a lie. But a bold and confident lie. (At least on the half of the blue-haired waiter.)

Maybe these two individuals - the Rito and Zora - already knew each other. Or maybe this would be their first acquaintance? Maybe it was an AWFUL idea to inspire this meeting in the first place, but curiosity was one of this waiter's most deadly sins. You see, he had sensed within them both a most intriguing undercurrent: a mysterious disturbance of keen intellect that lurked beneath lake waters too still to trust. They moved in a way which betrayed something deeper - something secret. Delicious, alluring, dark, dark secrets.

He liked that. He wanted to see more. Besides, what fun was a ball if you were alone for it all?

Of course, there was always the likely chance he'd let fantasies cloud his judgement and he'd misunderstood their characters entirely! But then that was just life, wasn't it? What fun was there in letting fleeting ideas pass and die, when instead one could act upon them and spark a potentially entertaining interaction.

Or not.

The two waiters patiently smiled as they waited, the offered icy treats twinkling upon their proffered trays.

[LuckyBlackCat]

Wishes. Wonder. Hope. For a long time, such things had been the stuff of children's stories. Now, Alyson dared believe they were just as palpable as the blue slate she dropped into the flower-petalled fountain. Shimmers danced across the rippling water, not just reflections of the moonlight, but a testament to the magic that permeated the grounds of the estate, of a kind she hadn't seen before.

And yet something about celebrations rang hollow, as if the whimsy were liable to shatter and fade just like the pyrotechnic illusions above. As if to take part would be to lose herself in a naive dream. Even her choice of costume seemed laughably childish.

In the corner of her vision, lace and ruffles flounced, along with a flash of teal hair. Putting on her characteristic grin, Alyson sprinted to where Ashley chatted with ninja-costumed Axel and a blue-haired man they both seemed to know. "Heyyy! Looking great everyone!" Now wasn't the time for negativity. Now was the time to showcase Ashley's tailoring skills.

She gave Ashley a gentle punch on the shoulder, just above the older guy's arm. "Let's see who can outdo the other on the frill front! Of course, you win either way, since it's your design and all." To Axel and Collin, the statement would undoubtedly sound baffling. Her bronze-coloured jacket and trousers, as well as her verdigris waistcoat over an off-white shirt, were more fitted than her usual attire, yet plain and unembellished - or so they seemed to the untrained eye.

"Feyranger Of Wind Form Activate!"

She reached into an inner pocket. With a theatrical sweep of her hand, she sent a flurry of paper confetti in the shapes and colours of Akkala leaves swirling around her on a stream of wind. Twirling like a dancer, she surreptitiously brushed her fingers against hidden seams and fastenings. The mechanisms Ashley had worked in sprung into motion, blue-green ribbons and layers of white ruffles fluttering as they burst forth from her coat. A frilled necktie unfolded at the collar of her shirt, revealing a malachite brooch. Tiny beads glittered all over the copious trimmings.

Lowering a mask with built-in goggles over her face, the frames the same colour as the bows and waistcoat, she pressed a button on the forehead. Feather-shaped extensions spread out at the sides. She drew what looked to be an ordinary wooden stick from her belt, which at the push of a switch, similarly sprouted small turquoise-toned wings from a compartment at the tip. The mask and wand were creations of her own, but she owed the rest to Ashley.

"Just as the breeze blows aside the clouds, I, Feyranger of Wind, will sweep away all evil from this land!" It was in the most overdramatic voice she could put on that she spoke, placing her feet far apart, holding the wand high.

Feyrangers. Children's tales passed down from a time long ago, of heroic young girls empowered by Great Fairies or similar beings to carry out their will, fighting evil and restoring hope. Not that Alyson could imagine actually battling or adventuring in such impractical gear, but they were fun stories nonetheless. For a short while, back then, they'd even allowed her and other youths in the community to envision a world where joy and justice could prevail.

"By the power of the skies above, I will..." She trailed off, noticing how the performance had gone awry. Many of the paper leaves had settled all over the guys' costumes, especially Ashley's as they clung to the frills. "Uhh, I will fix that little blunder! Sorry about that!" Whipping up a gentler breeze with a flick of her fingers, she began to blow away the confetti.


From beside the fountain, a lute's melody intertwined with the layers of the tune piped from a multitude of conch shells.

As Raemi danced, casting an entrancing display of motes from her membranes, Carmine strummed. In any other situation, he'd resent being stuck playing almost literal second fiddle while someone else took centre stage, but this performance would give Raemi the confidence boost she needed. Occasionally, he'd raise his head high and give a proud smile to those who lingered around the well, nodding to the rhythm, enjoying the duo's show after having submitted their wishes to the water. "Don't forget your Remarkable Raffle tickets!" he'd remind them. "Get the most out of tonight's miracles!"

His own ticket sat in a pouch at his belt - an indigo belt rather than his usual red one, to match the vibrantly coloured and patterned tunic he wore. Blue-purple stripes and rows of crimson triangles banded the white fabric, trimmed with golden edges. Around his legs were brass anklets latticed in a criss-crossing design, and above his beak sat an indigo and white mask in the shape of a cetacean's tailfin. It all clashed hard, especially with the vermilion feathers on his face and chest, but that was the point. To anyone unfamiliar with mythology, the wildly contrasting motifs would most likely look as if the outfit had been made under the influence of an illicit substance. Those who'd seen artwork and heard descriptions of a certain magical creature sung of in a ballad, however, would recognise them.

A ballad that spoke of dreams and illusions, of their fleeting nature. Given the phantasmagorical imagery all around the estate and its gardens, courtesy of the fireworks, the costumes, and Raemi's dance, what could be more fitting?

[Emily]

She had seen the giant blupee in the sky from outside the estate. Who could have missed such a thing? Despite her anxiety about being late- someone had told her such a thing would be looked upon favourably, as long as she wasn't too late, but she couldn't help feeling worried. After all, what was too late?- she had stopped in the middle of the tree-lined path and stared upward. The moment was magical, which was fitting given the night's theme. The massive rabbit, made of light and magic running around the sky, surely nothing like that had ever been done before. Or, if it had, she was going to lose her mind because the breadth of the world was much wider than she had been led to believe. 

Upon arriving, the sheer number of people, the finery in which they were dressed, and the spectacle of the ball caused her blood pressure to rise. Everyone was dressed so elegantly, even those who had gone all in on the night's theme. After receiving the magic- was it magic? It glowed like magic- stamp on the back of her hand and a pretty green slate, she looked around. And felt herself on the verge of an anxiety attack. After all, Ariadne had never been to anything like this before, due to the whole being raised in a barn thing.

 She had been running late to the night's events because she was trying to make the costume work. Far from the normal, somewhat-casual vibe she always aspired to put out, Ariadne was dressed in what appeared at first glance to be a nice suit. Double-breasted, it was well-fitted, allowed to drape in the right ways, but wasn't super tailored. She couldn't afford that, even with the 200 rupee windfall. And, given what she was planning on doing to it for a magic-themed party, she didn't want to ruin something good. So, while she had ordered something from the guy who had nearly fainted during the Yuletide festival, it wasn't this particular suit. So the still-relatively-nice suit, with a bright green jacket and trousers, and a golden-brown shirt underneath. Around her neck, as well as the waist of the jacket, dried herbs extended like a strange floral necklace and skirt, sage and rosemary, yarrow and lavender. Pouches of seeds and tinctures of potion bases were slotted all around her person. Despite how new it was, the suit looked scuffed and rough. Her hair, if anything even more red than it normally was, stuck out like crazy in all directions. Strands of hair wrapped around two small antlers that stuck up from her head. And finally, her eyes. One a bright gold, the other a deep red.

"What are you?" someone had voiced their curiosity when she entered the estate grounds. She couldn't blame them for wondering, she had actually wondered herself. At length. There wasn't anything in particular she called this, or thought of this. It was like another version of herself, some weird magical connection made long ago, and far away. Between the costuming, the makeup, and the bits of magic potion required to maintain the entire getup, she hoped people would be impressed. But not, like, intimidated or afraid. That would be unfortunate.

"Swamp wizard," had come to mind. Like some weird hag who would split her time looking for perfect mushrooms in the middle of a forested labyrinth and take people on a gondola ride through the marshy mess where she lived. "Someone who makes weird potions and helps people escape from those who are trying to find them."

"How imaginative! That's wonderful!" the response made her feel better about all the effort that had gone into this costume, though it also gave her a strange feeling of... homesickness? That was strange- this was the closest to home she had been in a year, surely if it hadn't hit by now in a dozen different places on the eastern half of the continent, it wouldn't start here. After making sure to buy a raffle ticket for five rupees, she quietly wrote a wish onto the slate and tossed it into the 'wishing well'. She stood there for a moment, just watching the fountain, wondering how people could make so many different, wonderful structures.


Sable found it incredibly kind to be invited to work the bar at this event. A beautiful, perfumed envelope had been delivered to the Roost one morning, containing a letter in which the invitation was written in the most familiar-looking script. While she couldn't be entirely sure where it had come from, there were a few ideas, and upon accepting she had more or less received confirmation. After everything that had happened that night, it seemed water was well and firmly under the bridge. Which was a relief- she hadn't wanted the bridge above that water to be burnt.

She was working a small, pop-up bar in the courtyard, amidst the flagstones and benches and surrounded on the sides and back by trees. There was a more substantial setup inside, but this was more than appropriate for the circumstances. Occasionally someone would come up to her and request a drink directly, but most of her work was going to supplying trays of different drinks. And, having been encouraged to be creative, she had worked some alchemical magic to make the drinks truly special.

If Sable was seen by anyone who knew her, she was quite certain they wouldn't recognise her. She, too, had gone all out to create a memorable and notable impression on the guests. A powerful magical glamour hid her plumage and replaced it instead with something from legend- tales of half-Rito creatures who hailed from the ocean. People who looked almost Hylian, but with beaks where their noses and mouths would go, and with wings that appeared as normal hands when they weren't needed. Her pale, white-gold appearance gave the slightest impression of the peafowl she always had been, but much more reserved. Her slight frame was held within a suggestive-but-tasteful red dress. Blonde hair hung in loose ringlets to frame her face, golden eyes above a regal beak. Around her left eye, a circular tattoo slowly spun.

The smaller form helped, oddly enough, with the more dexterous requirements of fast-paced bartending for an event like this. Sable found herself finally understanding the appeal of fingers. Fingers! They could grip so many things. How delightful. And it allowed people to see the most fun part of the glamour- the afterimage. Occasionally, when she moved, Sable left behind a ghost of herself, repeating the same actions and movements less than a second behind her. The effect was almost hypnotic, dreamlike.

In fact, when the occasional patron asked what she was going for with the look, she would say exactly that, with the suggestion of a smile. "A dream."

[LuckyBlackCat]

In the corners of walls and hedges, the horned silhouettes stood motionless.

Peering through a mask in the shape of multi-leafed Brightbloom fronds fanning outwards, Claria watched the row of figures she'd be assisting with security. Despite their statue-like stillness as their midnight black armour blended in with the shadows, the guards gripped spears and sword hilts, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of trouble.

She stood back so as not to draw attention to them, returning to the floral fountain where she'd cast her green slate. The soldiers stuck to lightless areas for a reason, and she wasn't going to give away their presence with her luminosity, or the conspicious accessories that made use of such. Armlets styled after Lightroots, carved from golden-brown moulted sea creature chitin and scored with a scale pattern, snaked up to her elbows. Set into the twisting fixtures were domes of clear quartz resembling the marvellous flora's bulbs, positioned over the bioluminescent spots on her forearms.

The point wasn't to have company anyway. The point was to stand watch. It wasn't like looking in from the outside was anything new, especially at large gatherings. Besides, drinks had started going round, served from waiters' platters and from the pop-up bar. The combination of magic and alcohol often led to chaos.

Even so, she looked over as familiar tufts of red hair caught her eye. Her stern expression mellowed. "Ariadne! That's quite the impressive hedge witch look you have going on there." Her friend's appearance could best be summed up as "wild", all earthy tones and dried herbs. She wouldn't look out of place in a woodland hut, brewing potions from foraged mushrooms. Claria's gaze shifted towards the antler-shaped head accessories, the striking red and gold colours of her eyes that seemed to be a glamour of some kind. "Or would that be more of a nature spirit theme?"

She couldn't help it. Her stoic demeanour cracked like the shell of a Brightbloom seed bursting into flower, a smile breaking over her face. Dammit, she'd missed Ariadne's presence in Zora's Domain, as much as she wished her well on her travels around Hyrule, even though they'd kept in touch via letters whenever possible. "Either way, it's good to see you again."


The many pouches attached to Micah's belt and apron rattled with rocks as he entered the grounds. He stared up at the grand estate, mouth open. It was typical for Gorons to revel in their celebrations and feasts, complete with pyrotechnic displays, but he'd never seen anything quite like this. How did the organisers get that giant blue rabbit to leap around the sky in a trail of sparks? And he'd known the event would draw people in from every part of the land, yet the sheer size of the crowds weaving their way through the garden caught him by surprise nonetheless.

His legs tensed as he fought the urge to back away. Holding up the queue wouldn't be a great way to start the event. With a deep breath, he inched forward. He could do this. All he had to do was get through the next few hours as a kitchen assistant, amidst chefs to the nobility, and somehow not make a complete and utter minecart wreck of it.

Ah, who was he kidding?

"Welcome, sir." A Hylian servant in a crisp suit pressed a fairy-shaped stamp into the back of his hand. Well, it was too late to back out now. Studying the tiny glowing mark, Micah furrowed his eyebrows. Would the ink get on the food? How many times would he have to get the stamp redone if he accidentally washed it off in the kitchen?

"What would you be?" The servant tilted his head. "Dragon?"

"Uh..." Micah adjusted his crested, scaled mask. Compared to everyone else, it was clear he'd arrived much too informally dressed, in his usual attire aside from the meager facial accessory. "Dodongo, actually. Mythical lizard that lives in volcanoes and, umm, eats a lot." Ok, that sounded nowhere near as impressive as a dragon. Maybe he shouldn't have corrected the young man.

"I see. Well, here you go." Micah found a small metal slate, resembling a red rupee, pushed into his grip along with a writing implement. "Please record your wish on this slate, sign it with your name, and throw it in the Wishing Well up ahead."

Micah blinked down at the tablet in his palm. "Uh thanks!" He shuffled aside to let others pass through, his other hand on the back of his head as he grew pensive. Was this just some kind of festival game? Or did he really have a chance to make a wish?

[Rex Draco]

The robed man finished the icy treat and placed the empty bowl down onto the buffet's surface. The spoon clattered against the glass with a soft clink. He made sure to set the piece down softly in order to diminish the possibility of creating a racket with the delicate glass. He was handline fine eating ware, not instruments. It was something he had to remind himself as he was used to handling the more durable plates of taverns and inns. He reached out, his forearms becoming exposed as the sleeves pulled back when he outstretched his limbs. His wrists clasped in fuschia bracelets that had such a vivid sheen they could be mistaken for metal, but they were shined stone. Petrified remnants of ancient forest only found at the bottom of the sea. He reached up and pulled back his cowl, exposing a thin veil of skin. The membrane was connected to his head fin, which hung low against the middle of his back, very unlike common headfin that were stiff and stood braced on the skill with firm cartilage.

The head fin was speckled with red spots, tracing down from beneath the veil to the tip of the fin. At the end of the fin was a soft, rose-gold colored bracelet, slightly lighter in hue when compared to the bracelets. Now that his head was exposed it was clear that he had two tones of blue on his scaled skin. The top of his head appeared a lighter, egg-blue while the head fin was a deeper cerulean. Still with the mask on his face it was impossible to determine who the man was. His identity was shielded by his mask. It had no eye holes, but instead two slits that were curved up like arching hills. The 'mouth' portion of the mask was carved to resemble a grin with the face itself two, dark, alternating shades of blue.

He had removed his hood to better sense his surroundings. While the hood served as cover for his disguise it was also important for him to deafen the 'noisiness' of the environment. Though it was a quiet evening there were many bodies that swirled about this unknown 'pond' and stirred every never ending on his skin. Very little of his body remained uncovered for this very reason. Any normal person gave off energy, but the size of that field depended on their presence, but that delved too deeply into nonsense that was not worth explaining to he resisted the urge to step away from the approaching man-servant.

He looked down at the proffered treat. A second helping. While his stomach was quite empty from the trip, he didn't readily desire it to be filled with sweet appetizers rather than the savory entree. The temptation was apparent though as he eyed the icy mix. He had never before partook in such a delectable dessert, but his tastes in foodstuff was quite limited to begin with. He has a strict diet as a result of years of habit and a limited palate as such. When the waiting hand caught his gaze, the man summarily turned his eyes down to the treat and glanced behind him at another that Zora had never before seen. In fact he had never seen a figure such as they. Tall, feathered and a hooked nose that was more beak than snoot. He couldn't help but press his gloved finger to his masked lips. Of course he had not removed the mask to eat and had only slid the spoon behind the cover, so one could be forgiven for thinking that this was his own grin etched in the wooden veneer.

He observed the Rito with a side eye. It wasn't hard to do with his sharp and narrow gaze. He was a tall figure and while the feathered fellow was on par with most Zora, the aquatic academic was a mere six feet, barely catching the bar for his kind. His 'diminutive' figure made him unthreatening in most cases and downright laughable in others. He couldn't compete with his kind in weight class nor athleticism, but where they could outpace him in water, he could leave them behind on land. One could never tell though as the fish had an amble to his gait that was quite common for the water-dwelling, amphibious fish.

It was being suggested by the waiter that the Rito had been the one to send another treat his way. But he took one look at the man, mindful of the effort put in the outlandish outfit. He could feel his brow arch ever so slightly. The mask was tight enough against his face that when his muscles moved and twitched it was quite easy to remain aware of his less than desirable responses. Sometimes one couldn't help but make the 'eck' face.

Which is exactly the face he made.

If the Rito wanted to flirt with him, trying to go through his stomach was the fastest way to the bad!end. The robed Zora raised his hand to the waiter. "No thank you." His voice was low, yet spoken with a soft, ringing tenor that was somewhere between a crow's bay and a cat's glowering growl. "--ahum, not my type." He motioned his hand, unsure if the bird even spoke a common tongue. "What are you even trying to be?" He had been trying all this time to discern the bird's fit, but it escaped him entirely.

The male looked foreign and that costume only made Arcade even more bizarre.

[Chaosome]

Arcade was what one could presume to be pleased by the fact that he was not the only one who decided to put any amount of effort into their chosen costume this evening. He had expected far more drift wood masks and grandparents clothes and jewelry being bandied about as if it were the latest and greatest. But for a mercy there would actually be some question as to who would win the mock monarchy. It would be so incredibly dull had he strolled in and won so easily, far too predictable.

Speaking of predictable, it wasn't long before a waiter approached. It never failed in situations like this, it was their job after all: keep the ambling partygoers placated with drinks and snacks so that whenever a main course eventually arrived they'd not be eaten out of house and home. Aside from that, the right drink in the right hands would often loosen lips for the nigh life sustaining gossip that the high society so often craved. Truth be told that selfsame gossip often fascinated Arcade himself. Not from a busybody's sort of standard, no it had more to do with a fascination on what made people tick. What drove them to certain actions and what certain actions would in turn drive them to do were word to come out. Cause and effect was so delightful.

Glancing down politely at the waiter, Arcade tilted his head ever so slightly, though not in confusion. It let his eyes trail and track over to where the waiter had a pointed. A Zora, blue in scale with bits of red breaking the pattern like blood drops on water. Diminutive, but clearly carried himself in a way that let him think he was taller than he was. Emotional stilts crafted to try and proverbially set oneself higher than those around them, they were a fish that clearly was accustomed to respect whether it was earned or not. His costume, clearly based upon Wizzrobes all but confirmed his suspicious that the man was himself a spellcaster of some measure. What's more something about him seemed... Archaic. Anachronistic even.

The Rito's gaze trailed back down to the drink the waiter had offered and graciously took it in hand. "Oh we all know that's not true." he began, making sure he held a bemused tone, lest the waiter think he was wroth. "One of the oldest conversation starters there is. Perhaps had your college withdrawn sooner from the stranger I'd have been more easily convinced." A wink, added on to indicate jest and amusement. "I'm certain that the gentleman figured it out quite readily as we-"

"--ahum, not my type."

"Or perhaps not." Perhaps he overestimated the Zora's observational skills. A pity that. With one last polite nod of acknowledgement to the waiter, and a knowing glance across the way to the other, Arcade turned his attention downward to the Wizzora. "The waiters of the wealthy do so love their little practical jokes." he said glancing at the drink in his hand as he held it up, looking at it glisten in the light before taking a drink. "Drinks sent to strangers to spark conversation. It often works one way or another it seems." Arcade's staff tapped on the ground as he turned bodily to face the Zora. Every eye on his costume moving to do the same.

Up this close to the bird, one could see the intricate detail work put in to making sure the costume was as accurate as possible. They eyes twitched and followed along with whatever Arcade looked at, the masses occasionally pulsing with 'life' when the Rito moved. The only thing missing was the spreading, dripping ooze that Malice had. Elsewise it was no wonder some guests had thought it to be real... "There are ancient tales of a sect of Royal Hylian mages in some dusty tomes dating back prior to the Calamity. Piecemeal descriptions painted a well enough picture to put together what I can only presume is a fairly accurate representation of their attire. Fairy tales, perhaps, it's difficult to say without being able to ask Her Highness." he motioned towards the 'tainted' parts of his costume before taking another long drink. "The rest is conjecture for what I can only imagine was their... unfortunate fate." Arcade looked over the Zora once more. "A wizzrobe, I presume?"

[Sav'saaba]

It must have been the fifth or even sixth time that Mabel had rolled the skin of her wrist between a thumb and finger until it smarted, but like every time before, the sea of splendid silks and majestic masks she found herself engulfed by proved to not be a scene on the lid of a sleeper's eye.

Somehow, an invitation extended by her brother's mysterious benefactor had spirited Mabel away into a world of wealth and opulence that she had only dared dream of when she had still been stuck in the Hateno mud - the lone rich thing there.
She looked as much part of the fairytale as the wonderful characters of fantastical plumage and pedigree engaged in chatter around her, she thought.

Ashley had disregarded Mabel's protest to his idea of dressing in identical ensembles, like they would when their mom still picked their outfits for them. That was some fifteen years ago at least, when the twins had looked more similar to one another than they did now. However, Mabel had to concede -with some reluctance- that he was right: she just didn't see the vision. Not until it was actually on her. Once again, her twin had diverted her expectations, and had even made a concession to her balking with a consideration to his designs to set them apart just a smidge: the colour scheme of her outfit was different to that of her brother's. Ash was the best.

Loose and wavy, Mabel's hair cascaded down her back, and in it glimmered numerous hairpins in the shape of small stars of finely-wrought silver. The cut of the straight neckline of the bodice was a bit lower than she would usually pick out herself, but it accentuated the curve of her neck and the delicate silver choker around it.

A lot about Mabel was silver tonight, but not the slate that had been handed to her. There had been a slight and unvoiced disappointment with the humble green sitting between her grasp, but she had soon recovered from that childish notion. As if the colour meant anything! ...It didn't, did it?
And even if it did, it still didn't, really. The things she would wish for were obviously loftier than the tried and tired I want untold riches or even that of The Hero of Hyrule refuses every commoner's advances, may he succumb to mine!

No, Mabel would wish for things that were hard to put into concrete terms, much less actualise. Something more holistic. Or so she told herself.

Dinraal strike her down, Ashley needed to see this sugar-work blupee sitting on the rim of the glass as decoration. The young mage had no idea what the pale blue, lambent drink itself was, and how much -or little- of it would get you proper wasted, but she didn't care. She had to have it. And if she knew her twin, so did he. Surely Mabel could ask the lady in the bird costume at the pop-up bar about the specifics of the drink when the bartender would be less busy?

Fragile as if made from blown glass, the little blupee decoration looked simply spectacular, as it even had tiny sugar antlers on its tiny sugar head. No way was she going to consume such a piece of art.

Where had Ashley run off to? Apart from her brother, she had only come across one other familiar face so far, but that person* had brought a friend. Mabel had told them she would return to them later, as Ashley would want to say hi to them as well.

Mabel weaved through the esteemed guests, carefully sidestepping when needed to prevent the precious libations from spilling over, or Hylia forbid, melt the sugary idol, the silk demi-train of her outfit trailing after her.

Her ginger conduct of conveyance had almost been all for naught, so surprised was she at the sight of her very own Unkalin and, wait, was that... Axel?! Oh gosh, she had not seen him in person in forever, but that stealthy garb wasn't fooling anyone, because that arm stood out like a sore... arm. As the cherry on top, Alyson was there as well, looking every part the magical heroine that Mabel had always thought she was. Mabel had tried to sneak the pieces that Alyson had gifted her this past Yuletide, but Ashley wasn't having any of it, yammering on about how it wouldn't fit his coordination. Still, they were a precious keepsake to her and she would wear them whenever she could, not in the least because they reminded her of her friend and the good times they had shared in Hateno.
"Right here!" she called out in response to her uncle, stifling the laughter bubbling up in her throat at Alyson's confetti going everywhere it shouldn't have. She cheekily imagined the lads were going to find that in obscure places for weeks to come. 

"I would have brought more drinks," she joked, while she offloaded them on Ashley and picked a piece of confetti out of his hair. She really needed to hug these people, and uncle Lin in particular. It had been a while since she had last been able to. "It's great to see you!" she squealed excitedly, and moved in for the kill embrace.

Sorry, Axel. No escape.

*bringing in more characters once things have moved into the ballroom because, when the clock struck two I had to call it a day last night. Feel free to tell me not to! I know I am cheating. ;n;

[El]

Event Post

Amusement glittered in the glacial-waiter's eyes. Yet, he bowed his head: acquiesced. Gleam did his teeth in a crescent-moon glimmer when his attention was caught by the other fellow across the way. Heh. Despite the rejection he'd been met with, in truth he hadn't failed at all really, had he? Contentment crinkled his golden gaze.

Alas, whatever delight he was sure to then indulge in was then quickly squashed by a realisation. Visibly his ears pricked, a pause freezing his mirth as the acknowledgement sunk in: the music had changed, the broadcasted tunes having taken a sudden turn, dipping from a crescendo into a trill of descension. The signal. Damn. Sparing no effort to mask his sigh of disappointment - his eavesdropping interrupted! - the waiter withdrew. His colleague did the same, though they departed in opposite directions.

Past the grand Wishing Well fountain, the blue-haired fellow waded, slinking through the gathered crowds and nimbly depositing his tray upon another servant's hands. The Zora dancer who crowned the gushing waters had slowed along with the background tempos, her hypnotic swirls falling into a gradual stillness like a flower recoiling within its bud. Raemi was thoroughly wrapped up in her own silk and fins by the time the waiter breezed past her.

It was a gradual sort of silence though. A steady pulse of emptiness which crept up on its listeners, building in their ears until that one little pause in a conversation, a punctuating clink of a glass, a lull after a laugh, suddenly exposed the void. The music was gone. The strung shells upon their lantern posts were still. Naught but the tinkle of fluttering fairy contraptions and an evening breeze through emerald leaves now filled the air - a hollow shell of a lullaby in comparison to what was. Silence.

A hush of anticipation - nay, perhaps even dread? - shuffled through the crowd. A moment of trepidation shared. But there was little horror to be found in the shimmer of movement which was soon spied, as the fairies from before began to emerge from all their settled crevices and roosted branches. Back towards their original birthing spot they danced. Then past it they continued. Strings upon strings of glowing motes of light and their sparkles collecting upon the grand doors of the Beaumont Estate ballroom. It was pretty at first, but then quite quickly became blinding. One after another they piled. One on top of the other they clung. Their radiance bloomed until it flooded, and just as it seemed to reach the limits of its luminosity, blinding all onlookers with a building orb of light set to explode, that little boy's voice from before screamed:

"NOT THE BUNNY!!!" He cried, but he clapped his hands over his eyes.

He never did see what happened to a golden-collared Blupee as it abruptly appeared only to leap into the light. But then, no-one did. A flash of white beamed far and wide, absorbing the creature in mid-pounce, tufts of mystic blue and all.

A breath and settled heartbeat later... the silence after the darkening calm revealed a grand hall: the ballroom doors wide open.

The little boy looked on the brink of tears, but much to his father's relief a nearby waiter swiftly leaned down and whispered some assurances: no harm had befallen the creature. Indeed, even the fairy constructs themselves seemed to have vanished without trace! A keener eye would note that the motes of 'glowing dust' through which the crowds then passed were in fact remnants of the explosion, but to more innocent minds they were just the end of a magic spell.

Nonetheless, the past was already passed!

Onwards a handful of waiters moved, ushering the attendees deeper into the Estate proper so that the true centrestage of the Beaumont Ball could commence! At first it didn't seem like ANY building could truly fit every eager body which swarmed inside, yet to many a fellow's amazement such concerns were quickly abolished.

The hall was grand - as one should expect by now! Much like the pathways outside, the floors were pearlescent and marbled white, spreading far and wide in all directions. Elegant columns held up high a ceiling which itself appeared limitless, its insurmountable depths obscured by swirling mists of midnight blues and purples. It was fragranced, a sharp nose would note, though subtly so: small, masterfully hidden incense devices emitted an alchemical concoction born of Puffshroom essence and swift violet dyes. From these dark clouds were strung a whole array of 'stars', delicately blown glass sculptures filled with shards of sparkling topaz - their celestial bodies held aloft by the shadows of painted octo balloons. At first the arrangement appeared clumsy - haphazard - but any self-respecting astrologist (or tradition-keeping Sheikah) could easily tell that the arrangements were those of constellations.

Nonetheless, down from these mystical heights flowed great swathes of silken banners, joining the columns and framing each section of dignified architecture. Treated with Hateno dyes to emulate the rich gradients of a springtime night, these 'slices of sky' effectively cut off two expansive banquet tables which lined either side of the ballroom. The tablecloths were overwhelmed with a bountiful flood of foods, each palette and preference catered to no matter the race or age. While alongside them were many a plush armchair or cushioned bench, to offer respite for weary feet. (Those with anxious bladders quickly spied lavatories also! Two distant corridors on the far end of the ballroom were manned by servants at the ready to escort any desperate souls to the signposted retreats.)

Up, straight ahead, was then the foot of a grandoise, forking staircase. It's splitting pathways rose up to meet overlooking balconies of upper hallways whose carpeted expanses were filled with colourful varieties of musicians. A trio of eager Goron drummers pounded away. A group of tattooed Zora strummed at their fishbone guitars. Harmonic Rito whistled into wind instruments and chirped out delightful vocal harmonies. While in another area - manned and conducted by a bespectacled diminutive figure who was either seven or seventy - stood a collection of high, HIGH wooden stools possessed with an empty air within which string instruments floated! Ghosts perhaps? ...Or maybe those little forest creatures from your childhood storybooks.

Regardless, as much as there was to see - to smell, to sample, to taste and enjoy - at the centre of the staircase awaited the Beaumont family, eager to address their guests. Both the Count and Countess were present, alongside their son, little Arthur Beaumont. (...Though Ciel was nowhere to be seen?)

It was immediately clear to many what the enamored couple had come dressed as, their hair powdered white and set into elaborate styles around large horns, and shimmering scales adorning their figures. The Countess had chosen Dinraal, the fiery luminosity of orange accents complimenting her own red eyes and confident, tanned figure. While the Count had likewise chosen Farosh, a wide and genial grin upon his lips matching the exuberant electric yellows. Arthur-... Arthur was something altogether very different though. Barely himself at all anymore his slight and youthful body had been absorbed by a homemade construction of-... blocks? It was a geometric suit of some sort, adorned with golden foil plating and jade paint - the very human joints which peaked out between each cube thoroughly stained with teal. A Flux Construct, the well-educated would realise.

"Welcome, one and all!" The Countess bellowed, delight as bright in her eyes as it was loud in the voice which echoed off the decorated walls. Yet even as she addressed the collecting crowd a few steps below her, her arm remained curled - adoringly - around the warm muscles of her towering husband. "My deepest gratitude for your attendance tonight! A night which I sincerely hope will live on in your dreams as a treasured memory - and the start of ambitions realised."

She paused then, for just a moment, her excitement and adoration evident as she scanned the colourful crowds: the ranks filled with faces both new and familiar. "Please do not forget to cast your slates into the Wishing Well before the dawn of the Midnight Dance - as its waters will reject any submission thereafter. Though rest assured if you have not already, the courtyard shall remain open to all current attendees for the remainder of the ball! Lest you fancy a breath of fresh air if naught else."

"Raffle tickets are also available for purchase from any of our brilliant staff," the Count chimed in, nodding towards a few fellows who lined the walls.

"Though no pressure to indulge in either, of course." The Countess giggled. "What matters most of all is that you simply enjoy this night of festivities! I very much look forward to admiring all of your costumes up close and perhaps even sharing a drink or a dance with those willing to accept my company."

"IF I let her out of my grasp, that is." The Count playfully balked.

"Oh you~!" The countess hid her blushing smile behind a scaled glove while to one side little Arthur squirmed with disgust. It was remarkable really, how obvious his discomfort was despite how well he was masked. "That aside, I suppose it is now time to dance, no?" She barely managed between chimes of delighted laughter, "Then let us take the first steps! My love-?"

"My darling-"

Sliding her hand down into his palm, the Countess collected the fanned tail of her dress upon her spare arm and began the descent down the grand marbled steps. The crowds parted to make way for the couple, the ballroom floor opening up to lay it bare for its original purpose. A beam of light - cast from Hylia knows where - shone down upon the duo, highlighting them for all to see and admire. (Though none of their finery shone as brightly as their adoration for one another.) Then of course came the strings, the building melody, the thrum of sprightly melodies and INTO a bounding dance the Beaumont couple pranced and spun: all expectations of an elegant waltz quickly shattered by the playful jaunt which instead erupted.

Of course people were at first reluctant to join in, whether from fear of dulling their shine and taking away from the moment, or simply because they were trying to hold back their laughter. Either way the Beaumont staff had expected such reluctance and were soon on the case of encouraging other couples and clusters of families to join in on the merriment. In no time at all, the highlighting beam faded and the ballroom floor was aflood with swirling fabrics of every beautiful colour, giggles and squeals adding to the merriment of the live music which boomed into cheerful exuberance from above and around.

The shells within the courtyard echoed these same tunes, alive once more with music now that the initial climax of anticipation had been and gone. In the distant background the courtyard gates closed, a selection of guards once hidden emerging at both their inner and outer walls. Any current guest may leave at any time, but no more would be accepted inside.

★~ The Beaumont Ball is now in full swing! ~★
I'm expecting at least two more 'rounds' of just dancing / festivities / mingling, so feel free to celebrate without pressure! The last official dance of the night will be the Midnight Dance, but that'll be announced in two Event Posts from now.

[El]

Raemi

As the crowds lulled - the tides withdrawing - a sentience returned to Raemi, a waking wash of startling cold that drew her consciousness up to the surface. Her performance was finished. The job was done. Her audience had largely dispersed.

Shuddering out a sharp inhale, hesitantly the Zora peeked open her eyes, squinting through the haze of her glittering, gossamer veil. The garden was dark and the lights low, but there he was and with his familiar silhouette - and the warm strings he still plucked - her initial alarm of clarity was swiftly soothed. He'd stayed with her, this whole time. ...Clearly he'd restrained himself too.

A bittersweet but grateful smile settled on Raemi's visible lips. She knew how much he loved the limelight - adored it. The fact that he'd allowed her to bask within its luminosity, this entire time, said a lot. Moon Above, if she wasn't so worried about any grime getting on his magnificent outfit she'd SQUEEZE him right up in the biggest of soppy hugs! Right there and then!

"T-thank you... Carmie."

Oh. Her voice was shaking. W-wait. No. Oh Gods!!! It wasn't just her voice! Catching herself mid-fall from grace, Raemi trembled her way down off the towering podium of marble, limbs weak and numb. They shuddered below her command - every unsteady moment and heart-jerking slip announced with tinkling chimes of her jewellery - but she managed nonetheless, squinting under the exertion of great care: mind the waters, careful of the engravings, DON'T leave any scrapes.

But woah... So many wishes! A whole rainbow of colours glowed from the basin of the fountain she'd just left as she glanced back at it, the dry stone floor of pavement cool against her bare feet.

...But THAT many slates meant that just as many people had seen her dance.

........

A hard swallow bit back a sudden rush of acidic bile. She clutched a hand to her chest as her heart throbbed. Her pulse was thundering.

She wanted to ask Carmine if she'd done well. How was it? How did people receive it? Did they even perceive her at all...? Did any linger or-...? But, well... she knew better than to give voice to any of those concerns. Instead she drew in a laboured gasp and took it slow, pacing a meditative breath to try and calm her spirit. Her Rito companion was a darling, but she couldn't help but feel like sometimes he protected her from the truth. Passionately so.

"...That means we've completed our commission, right? Or-..." She shot a sidewards glance at Carmine, unsure of what expression to wear. "Are you going to take Lady Beaumont's offer of joining the other musicians inside? Even I recognised some of their names."

[LuckyBlackCat]

Once he'd strummed the last few tremulous notes of the song, Carmine looked up over his shoulder. In the absence of the fairies' glow, he could see little more than shapes and silhouettes, tints of colour made visible only by the fountain's shimmer, the soft garden lamps, and the moonlight as the indigo of the night sky deepened towards black. Still, he noticed the shudders running through Raemi's limbs and making her membranes flutter as she staggered down over the marble tiers. The same shivers that wracked her body before and after many a performance.

"T-thank you... Carmie."

"No problem!" Gripping the neck of his lute with one wing, Carmine held out the other, ready to catch her should she stumble. "An event like this isn't complete without a fairy fountain." Luckily, Raemi retained her balance, but gasped and held a hand to her chest as she surveyed the sheer number of slates glinting from the water. Knowing her, she'd probably had her eyes closed behind the blindfold the entire time, unaware of the crowds that had lingered and watched, other than from the telltale splashing sounds of submitted wishes. Although most of the gathering filed towards the estate following its grand opening display, a few people remained by the podium, clapping and cheering over the others' chatter.

"And a thank you to all of you too! From both of us!" With a rush of pride, Carmine bowed deep. He knew who the real star of the show was, though, and if anything was going to bolster Raemi's confidence, this would be it.

When the bejewelled Zora brought herself to speak, it was to ask if their their task was complete, and if he'd be taking up the next one. "You finished it with literal flying colours," Carmine replied with a grin. "And yep! I'd recognise the sound of those fishbone guitars anywhere." Despite the self-assured front he put up, his own heart beat harder and faster than the drums of the piped symphony. He willed his pinions to stop trembling. He wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but he understood Raemi's stage fright all too well. Especially tonight.

With a deep breath, he stepped forward, only for his talon to catch against his lute case, upturning it. Rupees left inside by spectators scattered and clinked all over stone tiles. "Ah! I meant to do that!" Steadying himself, Carmine forced a chuckle and crouched down. "Got to divvy these up after all!" Of course, it would probably be best to do so inside, where visibility would be higher.