The Beaumont Ball [Player Event][CLOSED]

[Rex Draco]

The man listened, his hands clasped in front of him. The tattered ends of the cowl fluttered in the wind, his long head-fin protruded from the back of the hood and was probably the brightest color on his person aside from the green gem that hung from his neck. The flat, matte surface of the ebony squares appeared carved, and if one observed more closely one would be able to see some kind of writing bore into the black surface of the necklaces, but it was so tightly packed it was easily mistaken for the ridges of the points. His posture was slightly slouched, adding to the imposing air of the costume. The robed Zora raised his gloved hand, pressing his fingers against his concealed face. The wry smirk curling on his features were hidden by the cloth and leather. The wide brim of petasos seemed to unnaturally darken his face, in that one could not pierce it to discern his identity. His chin moved as his jaw instinctively clenched.

The bird's words were familiar. They were much like the words he carried in his youth. It was a dismissive, almost dark denial, of one's own cruelty as one viewed their actions as a chance to observe the forefront of society's corruption through an unbiased lens. That was him once, a long time ago.

A time he has long forgotten...

He held out his hand. "A sentient Calamity." His voice coldly rumbled with amusement. "I must say it is quite the opportunity to meet one. It is too bad we are to conceal ourselves for the purposes of these festivities or I would have requested your name, something I am rarely wont to do." Of course the Rito needn't take his hand, it was merely a coded custom learned from Hylians he couldn't quite shake, even after all these years.

Afterwards he brushed his gloved hands down the front of his robes with a dulled sense of urgency. Crossing his hands in front of him, the Zora leaned forward slightly. Though he couldn't get a sense of the bird's identity, he definitely wanted to peer into his magical competence. Whether he could gauge the bird's skill or not was wholly circumstantial. He wasn't sure if the Goddess' Blessing even had any bearing in this time, or if she was completely forgotten by the stampeding worms that seemed to exist in this time. One his icy treats were done the man debated on picking up drinks. This era was full of unusually tasty things, but it was difficult to pick on just one. He heard there were drinks available, but he had been sober for millenia and didn't want to betray the promises he made to his late wife. His gaze drifted to the side, followed by his head before he leveled with his stiff shoulders, slouch aside. He wasn't fond of bright lights so had to resist taking a step back in search of shelter. He wasn't going to find much in an open ballroom. Grumbling the wizard tugged at the lip of his hood, making sure his eyes were perfectly shrouded.

"...how gauche." What ever was he looking at? Regardless of what it was he wouldn't have offered his hands in any case. That was reserved for the most elusive of prey. The man watched as the reporter jumped from topic to topic. He was gladdened to say that not everything has changed despite the flow of time. He followed her gaze, wondering what had her a titter. He then spotted it as well. "Well, well — who would have thought she'd show up....?"

[Chaosome]

Arcade had to admit that he was pleased to have found at least marginally engaging conversation at this little soiree. Without holding a much longer discussion with the Zora, he couldn't say that the man was an intellectual equal to himself, it was however clear that at the very least he appeared to be a step above the common dredges of pseudo intellectual rabble that he was so often cursed with entertaining conversations with. It was a rather... refreshing change of pace one might go so far as to say.

A feathered brow arched slightly and a small smirk played at Arcade's features with the Zora offered a hand. He extended his own malice-free hand and gave a firm shake for an appropriate length of time — 1.7 seconds — before withdrawing with a little nod. "From even this brief conversation, it seems reasonable to believe that certain topics that pique our interests overlap. And so it's equally reasonable to assume that we will run into one another again in some place and time." Variables always made for fascinating shake ups within any experiment, and this Zora seemed as if he was a walking variable. Was Arcade a calamity? Perhaps. But something told him this Zora could very well be one himself, should he so choose...

Some people were open books, some only showed a few pages. Arcade was... difficult to get a read on. He clearly held himself with collected and confident air, but it didn't seem to be arrogance. His roving eyes scanned the guests of the room, but didn't seem as if it was with cold calculation. He showed little in the way of overt emotions beyond a slight smile or a pondering furrow of the brow. To say he was unreadable wasn't entirely accurate, but it would certainly take time to read between the lines.

When a flash filled the two's vision, Arcade didn't even flinch, only blinking for a moment when his pupils dilated and returned to their normal size, that golden gaze trailing over to the source of the light with a bemused smirk. "Ahh. The author of the Rumour Mill too, if memory serves. Charmed." the 'mage' replied, dipping his head in greeting in lieu of shaking the Hylian's hand. As Traysi began to ask for an interview, she not only cut her question off but Arcade's reply. Interest piqued, the man followed the trail of the woman's hand. For a brief moment one might notice the Rito's pupils dilate and constrict swiftly before he let out a soft chuckle into his free hand. "Well, far be it from Her Highness to miss an opportunity to partake in an event seemingly designed to lift spirits. Optimism seems to be one of her two most constant companions." he mused as he glanced around, finally spotting where the Queen herself was loo- Is that?... What was the swordsman wearing... The Rito furrowed his brow and cupped a hand to his beak in silent contemplation for a moment before shaking his head. "Ahem. As for the request for an interview, I cannot speak for my acquaintance here, but I myself would not object, depending on the content of the interview in question. However it seems that someone a touch more... famous has caught your attention. So perhaps after you've had the chance to speak with the Queen, mm?"

[Emily]

Stories were a beautiful concept. By nature creative conjurations pulled from the ether by some individual or collective, stories aimed to relate something meaningful. In their construction, indeed often in the specific narrative related, they were unique. But they were simultaneously a reflection of the creator or creators. Every important cultural touchstone, every traumatic or triumphant event, was imprinted upon them, context and symbolism between each word, every character. Castle Town, likewise, had its own unique, but also derivative, story. Tarrey Town had preceded it as a planned settlement pulled from the ground fully formed. But even Tarrey Town had been constructed around the whims and skills of those who were recruited to live there. Castle Town, meanwhile, had been planned and built without any idea of the population that would one day populate it.

Inspired by their success in Tarrey Town, the Hudson Construction Company had used their learned skills in planning to outline the city perfectly. Residential areas, commercial districts, parks and food-growing areas were placed next to one another holistically, need supplanting spontaneity. Castle Town had required the cooperation of many different people, weeks of hard work to establish connections and figure out logistics, supply chains expanding outside the city, new customer bases from the locals. They planned around the pre-existing merchant paths, incentivising travelling merchants from all races to stop in the city with stalls that only began to cost if used for a certain amount of days per month. Icehouses placed not only where they were most accessible for deliveries, but also for easy access to the markets and homes inside the city.

Sable watched on with a growing sense of pride in her heart. After all that time, all that effort, here they were celebrating their success as a community. A community without shared history, shared traditions, with no ties to one another, just the hope that those things would come in time. A city of true believers; after all, who else would choose to live in a place where evil had literally burst from the ground twice in the past century?

As the dance entered full swing, Sable was also happy to see that her own business began spinning up. There had been a couple people in the garden, near the tail end of the festivities when they seemed to believe it was their last chance to grab something. Of course, they had been entirely correct, but not in the way they thought. She had chosen a few drinks to be garden party exclusives, and a few others to be exclusive to the dance hall, with most overlapping between the two locations. She believed the dance would begin the process of people approaching in earnest, and fortune seemed to be favouring her now, as multiple avenues were being used to approach her. From one side, a familiar Zora flanked by an unfamiliar Hylian, from the other another unfamiliar Hylian, and an absolute unit of a horse peeking around a corner.

First up, the Zora... Claria? She hoped she remembered the name correctly. It was a skill she'd been developing ever since she'd started as a bartender, but it was still occasionally difficult if she'd only met the person once or twice. In those cases, she usually refrained from using it, as there was nothing more embarrassing than using the wrong name for someone who might in turn remember yours. And there was absolutely no recognition of the other, though her costume seemed quite extensive. "... they look like pretty creative concoctions," was all she picked up of their conversation as they approached.

The Hylian seemed uncomfortable. Anxious, to be more precise. Like there was a lot going on behind those glowing eyes, like there was a very tight self-control to keep it back there. The Zora, conversely, seemed to be entirely calm. This was a notable situation given their previous interaction, should this actually be the same Claria and not some other Zora who also glowed. That stormy night had suggested to the Rito that Claria had some very specific, but very strong, triggers. Something about that sent up the smallest warning signal in the back of her mind. An unknowable discomfort. Still, Sable buried a preening smile as the Hylian responded. "They're really quite pretty, aren't they? I love the elemental themes."

"That's very kind of you to say," she responded, finally revealing the final step in her glamour. Sable had attempted to recreate a vision she had seen in a dream, sketching it in a notebook in the false dawn with foggy, groggy eyes and a quickly deteriorating memory of what she had seen. It had mostly required basic illusion magic- even the afterimage was at best intermediate. But to complete the dreamlike appearance, she had applied layers to her voice, as if multiple versions of her were speaking in unison. Furthermore, while the soundwaves rippled out like normal, they masked her voice until they reached a surface, creating an effect as if her voice came from inside the heads of those people in earshot. Or at least, that was how it was supposed to work, it was by far the most difficult part of the glamour to construct. She didn't understand sound magic nearly as much as she did sight and taste. The Hylian's eyes widened, in turn surprising Sable. They had already looked so wide, she assumed they couldn't get much larger than that. "Please, try anything you'd- "

Shock like a lightning bolt ran through her, raising the down on the back of her neck and causing her to stand straight. A jolt of recognition burned through her mind, blood rushing through her ears like distant thunder. Even as the memory of specifically what had been happening at the Roost that night passed through her mind, she saw the Zora freeze up, her eyes stuck to the Thunderstorm before being torn away. "-like."

Sable attempted to hide the electric drinks from sight with a mixture of deftness and grace, or at least as much grace as she was able to muster in the moment. The version of her that had existed in the dream was not someone who would do something like this, but she couldn't just let someone experience fear at her bar. Of course, Sable's immediate instinct was to explain it away, talk about how yes, the drink did have some electricity, but to have anything more than a tiny shock would be irresponsible in a drink and most of the visual was itself illusion, but she knew too well what it was to have a sight-based fear. You couldn't reason things like that away, there was no logic, no stability. As the Thunderstorms were gently pushed out of sight, a broad wooden sign moved in front of them, she caught the Hylian's gaze, softening considerably from their previously alerted state. The Hylian mouthed a silent 'Thank You.' A strange sight, Sable thought, to see gratitude coming from those firey eyes.

"I'll have... I think I'll try the Blupee. The non-alcoholic one." Claria, having pulled herself together, seemed to loosen up a bit. That was a good sign. The Hylian looked at the drinks as if for the first time, though her eyes notedly avoided the space where the thunderstorm had been. Sable wondered if she would have tried that if her friend wasn't as reactive to electricity. "I'd like to try Naydra's Wisdom," came the voice, a calm masquing something otherwise quite young. "The cold's never bothered me anyway."

"Excellent choices, both of you. Over here are the non-alcoholic drinks," Sable said, moving and gesturing toward a specific section of the bar. "And here... is your Blupee!" She picked up a glass and handed the drink directly to Claria. As the Zora grabbed the stem of the glass, the little 'ears' wiggled. "If you need anything else, I will be here. As for you," she turned to the Hylian, "many brave adventurers have taken on the challenge of Naydra's Wisdom."

Just as she had practiced, the long preparation for this night. "Have you hiked to the peak of Mount Lanayru?" Have you braved the storms, the snow, the ice?

"It's funny you ask that." As the Hylian laughed, her outfit shuddered, releasing the sound of hundreds of leaves brushing against one another. The movement seemed to amplify the laugh; something about it reminded Sable of... home? The almost childlike nature of it almost seemed layered like her own voice, as if she had travelled back in time to laugh over and over. The patron elbowed Claria with no small amount of conspiracy in her actions. There was a natural mischievousness in the Hylian's actions, something that reflected well in the attire. This was no mere wizard hermit brewing potions in a swamp, this was much more. She bit down on her natural curiosity, allowing her customer to respond.  "Just over a year ago, Claria and I hiked the entire approach to Zora's Domain. While I was there, she even helped me climb up to Shatterback Point."

"A feat that takes no small amount of courage." Sable stifled a grin, enjoying the challenge. "But a Ploymus cliff climbed does not a Lanayru summit make."

The Hylian looked amused, pausing a moment before responding with a totally neutral comment. "True. No, I haven't been to the peak of Mount Lanayru."

She... backed down? Sable hoped she didn't appear as crestfallen as she felt. Why, after all of the creepy effects and boisterous responses, was the Hylian holding back? When she had gamed this out beforehand, there had been plenty of silly back and forth, people playing into the grandeur and almost mythopoetic nature of the hall they stood in. Everyone was an extra version of themselves tonight. Perhaps she had miscalculated. Steeling herself, Sable picked up the drink and handed it to the sprite. "Then I wish you luck, fair traveller. This drink is made with the finest ice and snow Lanayru has to offer. It is not for the faint of heart." She watched as the pair walked over to the side, out of the way of the bar. She wondered at that costume. Why did it feel so familiar?

"These are amazing" Somehow perfectly timed, Sable was pulled from her thoughts by a new arrival. She turned to see yet another Hylian, having finally made the leap from eyeing the bar to approaching it. Unlike the first two patrons, this one was clearly already feeling herself. She was wearing a magnificently avant-guard costume, at least in the sense that it was difficult for Sable to immediately understand. There were spikes, there were jewels, there were some giant shoulder pieces. Every time she moved her arms there was noise- was this a theme tonight? And of course, there was a butt-cape. "You make these? My mom brews some funky-looking elixirs, but I've never seen a thunderstorm in a flute."

Sable was immediately disarmed by the young woman's giggle. No matter how the first interaction went, she should try her best for everyone. And no matter what the lady wanted, she could always slip in a non-alcoholic version, call it her requisite hourly good deed. Reaching deep within herself to call forth all the pomp and circumstance that anyone could hope for, Sable leaned into her glamour, causing a light illusory snow to hang in the air around them. With the mid-air glitter frozen in place, she responded, voice echoing in the mind of her newest target. "You have approached a great and powerful mage indeed, young one! The art I provide, that I have dedicated my entire being to, is the magic, the splendour, of bartending. While all great bartenders, chemists and potioneers can create funky elixirs, it is only the true elite among us who can conjure the very elements themselves into cups of varying sizes! And tonight, only the best for you."

"Which... which should I pick?" The young Hylian was clearly taken aback by what she had seen. Understandable, understandable. She didn't have the same combative spark the other did, but undivided awe was also a perfectly acceptable response.

"Anything you want," she replied, presenting a discreetly non-alcoholic version of every type of drink in front of her. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell you what, take a sip of all of them and tell me what you like most. And if you're ever interested in seeing more of what I can do, my name is-"

"...Sable?!"

And so the Rito realised that someone had been sneaky, approaching the bar while she had been focused on providing an entertaining presentation. She laughed upon seeing Alyson, of all people, standing there. "That timing was too perfect to be an accident. You did that on purpose."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sable saw the evening's coworker approaching. "I have to check on something, but you simply must tell me what gave it away, I was so sure I was incognito tonight. Looking incredible, by the way. Be right back." And with that, she turned to the horse man at the far end of the bar.

It was truly amusing to see so large a man dress as so slender a horse. Every time she had seen him that evening, Gao had looked completely terrified, either shy or wishing he wasn't there. But she had taken a liking to messing with him, just in case it made him squirm even more. She leaned over the bar toward him and looked first to the side, then back. "Hey there, handsome. Fancy meeting you in a place like this."

True to form, Gao was flustered beyond belief, though it seemed more a result of the assembled patronage than anything she could do to him. "Sorry for the interruption, Ma'am. Could I make a request...? I'm after a large platter of... hmm, palette-cleansers. If you need any extra ingredients or help in general, let me know though. The last thing I want is to overwork you if things are already too busy as well."

"No trouble at all, I should have everything I need. Unless..." one final push, surely something would work, "you're requesting I join you in the storeroom. Otherwise, I can have you a platter in about ten minutes, if I understand your request correctly."

Leaving him to chew on that possibility for a moment, Sable turned back to the court she held. She quickly returned to the other two, winking at Alyson before addressing her bug friend. "Anything jumping out to you yet? It's all free, pinky promise."

[LuckyBlackCat]

It was with an inaudible sigh of relief that Claria watched the bartender hide the sparking drinks from view. The weight of trying to ignore the traumatic reminder left her shoulders, only for another burden to settle on them - that of shame. Had her unease, and its source, been that obvious? Even if the bartender knew that most Zora were at least somewhat wary around electricity, they rarely reacted as she did. Especially not over a mere few fizzles.

Her lights flickered ever so slightly beneath the gemstone domes. It was all she could do to maintain eye contact with the bartender as she accepted the Blupee, doing her best to pretend she hadn't just made herself seem a prize wuss over literal storms in cups. Ariadne wouldn't judge, the bartender had been understanding about it, and it was unlikely anyone else had even noticed, but still, that psychological chink in her armour would always be a sore spot unless she managed to get the fuck over it.

"Thank you." The other special effects, at least, had a whimsical charm to them, the ear-like thistle sprigs wiggling in the pastel blue liquid. Claria took a sip, savouring the nutty sweetness of palm fruit, popular with her kind as Lurelin traders knew.

The bartender took Ariadne's request as cue to delve into jokey banter, the subtle echo to her voice amplifying the dramatic effect. Casual chatter like this wasn't usually the kind of thing Claria took part in, but it would be a distraction from the cringe-making moment just now, and Ariadne's cheer proved infectious, the elbow nudge and mention of last year's events bringing back fond memories. She recalled the lengthy hikes around the Lanayru mountains, stress dissipating like ocean mist for both of them, the apprentice healer's awestruck gaze as she'd taken in the scenery - the waterfalls, the monuments, the intricate sculpture of the departed Princess Mipha gleaming in the sun.

"The very same cliff the Hero of Hyrule once famously climbed," Claria chimed in, picking up where Ariadne left off. Her posture, previously stiff as if she'd been primed to spring into action if necessary, relaxed a fraction. "Minus the Lynel to vanquish, but even so."

She moved to the side, making space for the newest customer. The urge to back away and disappear into the crowd hadn't quite faded, but blending in wasn't exactly her strong point. "Speaking of travels, how's life in Kakariko been treating you lately?" she asked. Going by the letters, Ariadne seemed to be settling in there much better than she had in Zora's Domain, even if the tangents indicated tiredness.

A name, uttered in astonishment, caught her attention. "Sable?"

Sable... Where had she heard that name before? Before she had time to think on it, she whirled around at the crystalline cacophony of glass shattering. She drew one foot back, going into battle stance on reflex. No ruckus had broken out, thankfully, just a minor mishap involving a flustered waiter and several dropped glasses. And a bunch of jeering youths who had nothing better to watch, despite the sights and sounds that filled the hall. "I see you have no concept of culture, if that's your idea of entertainment," she grumbled at them.


"I have to check on something, but you simply must tell me what gave it away, I was so sure I was incognito tonight. Looking incredible, by the way. Be right back."

Alyson's mischievous grin spread wider. Trust Sable to put up a show with her mastery of illusion magic, and to make good use of all those gifts of sky island fruits. "That flair for the dramatic and those colourful concoctions?" she replied. "Quite the distinctive blend, rather like the cocktails themselves."

She skittered aside as shards of glass sprayed all over the tiles like shrapnel from a Zonai time bomb. Her smile froze into a rictus at the mortified Goron server scrambling to gather up the mess. "Ehhh, my bad! Therefore, my responsibility! Leave it to the Feyranger of Wind!" With a nervous chuckle bubbling up from her lips, she grabbed some napkins from the bar to protect her fingers, and set to work gathering the fragments onto the trays.

The lizard-masked Goron, with his huge hands, managed to scoop up most of the debris, but Alyson grabbed what she could, using her wand like a broom to sweep slivers out of the cracks between the tiles. As she worked, she glanced over her shoulder at Sable's question.

"Hmmm..." Her eyes flicked over the board listing the drinks, standard and elementally-themed alike. Normally, she'd go with a good old Tabantha beer, or a Goron spiced ale, a popular choice at evening work parties courtesy of all the Yunobo Co staff present. Yet one particular beverage did jump out at her. Why not try something new - and thematically fitting - tonight?

"What else but Farosh's Wind?"

[El]

GAO

All the way to the tips of his ears, 'Malanya' felt his face burn red. And so the horse snorted - of all things! Not in mockery. Nor in amusement. Rather it was a noise born of struggle, squeezed out between the vices of astonished bafflement and frustration in an echoed muffle against his wooden mask. Far from ending, Sable's teasing games only appeared to be escalating as the night wore on.

...-join you in the storeroom.

...

The sudden surge of hot blood put too many images into his head far too quickly. Ngh. His throat bulged as he surreptitiously cleared it - or well, tried to. It was more of a strangled cough. A jerked shake of his head didn't help much either really.

As much as Gao attempted to present himself as a considerate gentleman in society at large, in truth he was anything but. His temper was fierce. His patience strained. His spirit volatile. When he ate, he feasted. When he fought, he slaughtered. When he loved-...

...That was too dangerous a game to partake in. Romantically or physically. For numerous reasons.

Sable was playing with him and more than just once now Gao had been on the brink of baring his teeth, but somehow she always seemed to know where the line was, stopping JUST before he judged it too far. Thankfully this time a raucous crash of a distraction aided in clearing his mind. It wasn't quite so fortunate for the distressed Goron at the centre of it all though.

"Shit. Micah! Are you OK?!"

Swiftly turning on-heel he rushed to the cook's side, though his panic was quickly thwarted by a helpful guest. One whose voice he recognised nonetheless! Bolson Engineer by day, Feyranger of Wind by night, eh? How incredibly endearing: the children back in Lurelin would've been delighted to see her costume.

Alyson had skillfully swept up the shards Micah's more robust hands had missed, but now Gao swooped in tearing off a loose accessory textile from his garb. He snagged a half-empty drink from a member of the jeering peanut gallery Claria had just scolded and - ignoring his aghast shock - emptied it over the fabric. Now that it was suitably wet it could help grab any errant, tiny specks of glass. Not everyone tonight was wearing shoes.

"We should probably put up a warning sign while this is drying," Gao muttered below his breath. The make-do rag seemed to have mopped everything up spick and span, but now the beautiful marble gleamed with an entirely different danger. And honestly it could do with a proper clean: as delicious as Sable's beautiful concoctions no doubt were, he highly doubted they'd dry like water. "Think you could go grab one for me?" He looked back up to Micah, while Alyson found her evening resumed in the distraction of ordering drinks overhead. (Thankfully. As much as he appreciated her assistance, she was a guest at this event.) "Pretty sure they said during the briefing there was a whole bunch stocked in the right wing storeroom, just past the kitchen. Next to the cleaning supplies."

But Gao paused then, giving the Goron another - more attentive - scan. Even if there were no visible wounds on the friend's tough hide, his soft heart was another matter. Shaken and deflated: it crushed the Sheikah to see his evening take such a turn. The kitchen work was tough enough as is."Unless you need a minute, mate." He added, his smile unseen but no doubt felt as he placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I could go grab it instead? I could probably do with nabbing a few other bits anyway."

Namely a hearty serving of hot cocoa or something for the poor guy - he'd whiffed some during his kitchen peek. There was a chance the head chef would take issue. But then Gao would just punch his lights out. Issue solved.

"Take a breather, yeah?"

[AmJanky]

Collin | Axel

"The blame wholly falls on me for escalating that situation and yet she takes it out on you..." Collin contemplated, but shrugged after a second's thought. "Well, if she wants that to be her evening, be my guest." It wasn't the Zora he'd sought to call out, it was the rather daft Sheikahn boy he'd once laid his life on the line for.
"You're such an ass." Axel grunted, he wouldn't give Collin the satisfaction of knowing exactly what had been implied, but he'd still voice his discontent. Even when he knew there was very little point, not with this guy, anyway.
"I'm sorry, I just thought that saying 'nice catch' would be even more inappropriate." Though his eyes were following the dancing figures on the floor, Collin knew in what fashion the red eyes frowned at him and the way Axel would fold his arms. It wasn't at all the first time he tried to get under the Sheikah's skin, they'd been having little spats like this since Axel was a - rather petulant - teen.
"Sure. Because that was all that was about..." Axel was well aware what games Collin played with him and the intended purpose had been made clear at a way earlier stage; it was simply to suffer the consequences of any action and to learn from them. And if there was ever tomfoolery to be found out, Collin would find out, and it would be used against him.
"Should there be anything else?" The phantom mask's eyes once again gleamed orange as he quipped back confused and innocent, it was almost believable, "Something I missed?" Unheard of.

The two hadn't exactly hit it off from the start, neither of them had wanted to get to know one another at the time. The undercurrent of that undercooled start to their acquaintance did mean there was very little they wouldn't accuse each other of. But there was an honesty to that that both of them very much appreciated.

After a couple more seconds Collin looked away from where his gaze had gleefully stuck on the dancefloor. Reminiscing, maybe, day-dreaming, for sure.
His eventually asking "Why are you still here?" was met with a confused glance from the Sheikah. "Look, you're cute," Collin clarified, "but very daft, 'Xel. But if you want that to be your evening, be my guest."
"I'm not sure I follow." Driving a nail into the daft, like the Sheikahn youth - admittedly more youthful at the time - once had into his ear.
"You should follow, have a dance, break some ice." A wicked little grin showed under the mask. "Hylia forbid you get out there."
After a bit of spluttering and wanting to say something in defiance but coming up short, Axel gave up, "Anything better than staying here and getting scolded by you." Shaking his head and letting his arms sag out of their fold.
"I'm sorry for the lack of slipper." Collin bowed gracefully and left Axel to his own device - or with, both worked in Axel's case. "Just make sure you're home before midnight."
"You're not my fairy godmother." Axel replied with a chuckle, not looking back as he made his way through the dancing people.

Ashley | Collin

And so Ashley went from having a girl on both arms to nothing. He'd lost Alyson to finding an acquaintance running the bar and Mabel to a drink at the bar.
Which meant that he was without distractions, which also meant he was left to his own thoughts, which also meant that his thoughts were starting to get very loud, which also meant that the night's music was starting to sound very far away indeed.
Which also meant that the last few weeks of working on dresses was not just gently tapping on his shoulder, it was wrapping proverbial yards of fabric around his throat.
A warm flush crept around his cheeks and wasn't just the bustling warmth of the party. He slowly started to feel as though he had to breathe through layers and layers of satin, sequined tulle and linens. To counteract the warmth he flapped some cool air towards himself with the slate he still held.

He just wished- perhaps with a little too much theatrics, given the lonely situation, he looked at the rupee slate he had absentmindedly started using as a fan - he could make a wish.

Ashley was still looking from the rupee slate in his hand towards the fountain where it should go, when a rather bulky Malanya stepped over the rim. He found a welcome distraction in the form that dragged his eyes to follow, but when Malanya found a creature that seemed to have hoisted itself out of the depths into a green leotard, he recoiled and quickly diverted his attention back to the rupee slate and fountain.
He wasn't even remotely tempted to pry into their conversation hearing the lilting whine the clad in green abomination produced.

He should make that wish.


From where Collin had set off to finally grab himself the drink he'd promised himself a while ago, he found his nephew. Standing rather forlornly at the fountain, scribbling something rather secretively onto the rupee slate. While not his usual shindig, Ashley could be the life of a party - that he wasn't, meant something had him bothered.

"Heya." Collin wasn't even loud, but Ashley nearly jumped out of his breeches and let out a brief yelp that would have shattered the bar's multicoloured glasses if they had been closer and then hastily threw his rupee-slate into the fountain. "What's got you so jumpy?"
"Oh, you know... Things and stuff, you know." Ashley's voice hadn't really lost the high pitch, he hadn't bothered to breathe in after the exclamation.
"I don't, please breathe."
"Weeeell - those things still haven't really made any difference to the night, but I don't know, I might have overdone the last few weeks with all the things I have been doing and making and maybe I shouldn't have bit off more than I could chew but I thought I was doing very well -up to a point, to be completely honest- but there just, when the door opened, with the speech - good speech, though, loving the dragon theme and their little boy is just so cute - but then I thought there'd be the -ah- ...a thing ... not just more fireworks and the speech and the dancefloor opening, and, well, you know, that means there's gonna be more-"
"Ashley! Breathe." Collin only caught half of the ramble, but did understand that if Ashley kept going, he'd soon be on the floor and those last few weeks really would catch up. Another thing that stood out was, "More what?"
"Nothing more!" Ashley had slapped his hands over his mouth and only opened them briefly to speak though, "I just assume."
"Should I be worried?" Collin pulled the phantom mask up to his forehead, one for being able to look at his nephew unimpeded by shadows, two because - despite asking if he should - he did get genuinely worried when Ashley rambled.
"No." But that didn't mean Ashley wasn't. "Not at all."
"I assume your wish is for these things and stuff to go well?" He didn't venture to ask what these things and stuff would entail and just assumed it was to do with the poor tailor's choice of workload.
Ashley let out in a sigh, and let his body sag out of the nervousness before just shrugging. Even if pressed he wouldn't tell, anyway. "Kinda, I guess." He could only hope to see the Beaumont he'd been expecting to see when the gates opened.
"Wanna use mine for some extra assurance?" Collin held out the very slate that started the evening in Ashley's hands anyway, "On one condition; you gotta make it to that dancefloor."

Collin | Mabel

After the brief interjection to reassure Ashley and have him make use of the second slate, Collin finally made it to the bar. Where the Feyranger of Wind, a rather buff Malanya and a dragon-looking goron were sweeping up the spills of a platter full of glassware. He dodged around the disaster area, figuring that situation was rather handled, to zone in on mischief to be had.
He found his niece still staring at the many drinks, unable to make a choice while the bartender expectantly, in bated patience, awaited her answer.

What had been a figure blurring in and out of his peripheral vision in the background, became a figure blurring in and out of the focus of his vision. The blonde Rito bartender struck a familiarity he couldn't quite place. Even her being Rito was a question - she had the tell-tale beak, but was much smaller and far more Hylian in the rest of her features. Ghostly after images trailing after her as if she was simultaneously sped up and slowed down, it was ethereal to look at.
While he pondered the question of perhaps having worked for her at some point or another was when she caught his stare. He lowered the mask back over his face and gave her a smile and a wink while swooping up two drinks and placing a red one in Mabel's hands. All that could wait, the bartender was obviously on the clock, and one less indecisive customer wasn't gonna hurt the growing queue in front of her bar.

"Can I borrow you for a second?" He didn't waste time waiting for an answer and looped his arm through Mabel's. If he'd given her a choice she'd have another debate with herself and might have gone for a safer option - he didn't give her that. He never really had, the girl had shown potential from a young age and he was the one to introduce her to unsafe things. Supervised, of course, her mom would have his guts for garters if anything were to actually happen.
As he led Mabel away he did leave a lingering look over his shoulder at the blond, he was sure he'd remember someone like that. He had to shrug it off and turned his attention back to Mabel, "Don't look now, but wanna watch possible calamity unfold?"

Mabel didn't turn to him but rather scanned the room for sources of this 'possible calamity'. Just like he'd taught her to do when they had been out scouting for monsters, following where she was looking he noticed where her trailing gaze stopped; at a Rito and a Zora having a conversation. Seems the Riot-genome weren't the only ones looking at the fiends as inspiration for their costuming, "Loving how prepared you are; that's not calamity, that's malice."
"Is there a difference?"
"About eight years and another incarnation of a demon king. You know we don't get fun stuff in Hyrule."

Ashley

Get on that dancefloor, he says, it's just a dance, he says. With the weeks worth of cutting out fabric on the floor and sitting in a worse than bokoblin's posture to get all the stitching as neat as he could - more often than not by candle light. Ashley wasn't exactly feeling in the best of shapes physically.
But - he figured - it was as best a way as any to shake out some muscle-aches and cramps. He shook out the nerves some more - feeling mentally strengthened by the wishes he made. He waved to get Alyson's attention who had just taken a drink from the bar and pointed at the floor. "Better finish that drink. We're going dancing, luv!"
And, after some thought, added with a big grin, "Do you still have some glitter left?"

Axel

It didn't take at all long to find the shimmering Zora. She was moving along the throng of people, they didn't exactly seem to step aside for her as much as she was moving around and about them like a flowing stream.

And oh, by the dragons, what was he going to say to her? He didn't dare start with another apology, though she really did deserve another apology. Which didn't make it a shut up and dance with me kind of moment, either. Ha, like he'd possess the bravado, anyway. No, he'd just have to muster up the courage.

He stepped up to her and offered a hand.
"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot - a horrible thing to do when it comes to dancing, I guess..." He shook his head to get out of his tangent-prone thoughts, "But anyway, I'll have that dance, if you're still willing."

[El]

RAEMI

Ah. There he was.

It hadn't been her conscious intention to seek him out, and yet how naturally her eyes were drawn to him. The confident poise. The vibrant colours of his smart costume. The effortlessly comfortable smile. His beautiful vermillion plumage was puffed up proud as he strummed away at his lute, seamlessly at home in this brand new environment and all its unfamiliar faces.

Raemi had worried once that he might struggle to soften his own voice amongst a choir of so many others, where harmony - not individuality - was paramount. But clearly she'd been concerned for nothing. Despite the spirited strength of Carmie's personality, he was far from unprofessional.

What a truly admirable guy.

The forced smile plastered across Raemi's face softened into something far warmer - more genuine. Proud. As did the frost that had bloomed within her chest begin to crackle and melt. She had waded through the swirling, waltzing crowds in an absent daze, seeking only distance in her swift and silent-panic of an escape. Somewhere in the midst of that her aching heart had sought out her one true friend. Her beacon of strength. She'd found him. But now she'd halted. The world around her came crashing back in, a clamour of festive noise and curdling colour flooding her reawakened senses all at once.

One word - one feeling - rose above it all:
Regret.

...She had been too curt hadn't she? Too presumptuous. Oh, Raemi, why do you always think the worst of strangers? Especially-... the opposite sex. She knew not everyone was the same, and that prejudice stung no matter who held it as arms, regardless of how much of a victim you thought you were. Yet, when witnessed often enough behaviour paints patterns, patterns that you react to rather than see through, to what they truly were.

Maybe her assumption HAD been correct, but Raemi was still annoyed at herself for so quickly becoming defensive.

She sighed.

Albeit it was a sigh swiftly followed by a resigned smile. What was done was done, and the night was to continue on. Carmine was up there tearing the night up with dashing bravado; she'd do well to follow his example, so they could share excited gossip come tomorrow and gush about the memories for many more months to come.

Though she had to wonder what that pink-haired fox was up to... He had taken a seat directly behind her friend and yet she hadn't spied any instrument on his person...? Was that even allowed? Why had no-one stopped him? Not even the guards seemed fussed! He better not cause Carmie any trou-!!

An extended hand jolted her from her thoughts. Her heart leapt. Her fins flared. Immediately alarmed, she feared she had gotten in some stranger's way and was about to rush out an automatic apology when her eyes saw who the hand belonged to.

Her face began to burn.

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot - a horrible thing to do when it comes to dancing, I guess..." The familiar Sheikah began. Though no sooner had his words begun to wander did he hastily add, with firm conviction, "But anyway, I'll have that dance, if you're still willing."

And his blue-haired companion...? Raemi's gaze was already scanning the bustling crowds for the skull-mask, though to little avail. Even if he was still present it was tough to find anyone amongst all these bodies and their swirling tides. Regardless... she fancied the man sounded sincere. No. She decided he was sincere. There was a resolute look in his eyes, but it wasn't one of obnoxious swagger, muddled as it was by a shadow of uncertainty.

Cute.

Her lips pursed behind the thin mask of her veil, desperately trying to hide the silly grin that threatened to overtake her entire expression. "With our shared penchant for bad jokes?" She quipped. "How could I possibly refuse."

With a giggle that overflowed at last, she slid her hand upon his. That little thrill of electricity was there again, sparking through her nerves in a brief tremor of her fins. While the flutter-winged fairies tittered and keke'd in her belly she suddenly realised something rather important, "Assuming-... you don't mind me taking the lead?" Timidly she peeked at him, trying her best to read his expression through the masquerade.

Though perhaps words weren't doing the notion justice... Maybe a small sample would better - more honestly - suffice? A little demonstration.

She gently tightened her grasp on his and - if there was no resistance to be had - would take the fleeting moment of silence as temporary permission: she didn't tug him into her space, so much as he was pulled towards her. A tender grasp of stirred gravity. A drifting, unseen wave that caught him in its flow. With it she too was altered, her fins and costume wings unfurling to the golden chime of the many bells and beads that adorned the Zora's form. The whispered breeze brought with it a warm fragrance of sundelion and electric safflina: the ink of her garden performance washed, but not entirely cleansed of its stain. Yet, the stirring grasp was far from strong enough to rob a man of his autonomy. It'd only guide his movements should he allow it.

Raemi perked an inquiring eyebrow, the bejewelled membranes cresting her brow aglitter with nervous excitement. "I think you'd enjoy it? ...Maybe."

[Emily]

"Speaking of travels, how's life in Kakariko been treating you?"

Ariadne took a breath, and then a drink, stalling for a moment to collect her thoughts before answering. While Claria may not have intended the question as a big one- it was, in fact, a completely normal small-talk question- Ariadne found it a bit difficult to answer. While she might not have been all over Hyrule, she had studied now in and lived in three very different areas of Hyrule, learning from Rito, Zora, and Sheikah. She couldn't make herself approach her experience of Kakariko objectively, just compared against a general expectation of what life should be like, how life should be treating her. Instead, she found her thoughts cycling through what it was like to live in the Tabantha Snowfields, learning from the Rito, living in Zora's Domain and learning from the Zora, and now living in the fertile Necluda valley with the Sheikah. As she thought, her eyes flicked from one spot to another- a tic she'd had from childhood, but one that was exceptionally prevalent with the glowing eyes of her costume.

"Shockingly well," she finally said. And it was true. "You know how every mountain around the Domain is cold? I mean, not as cold as Hebra, sure, but the mountains are quite tall and apart from the summer there's usually some snow? I climbed one of the cliffs during my day off- oh, that's another thing, the Sheikah give me days off every week, which has been good for keeping me from going mad. I climbed one of the cliffs near Kakariko and when I got to the top, it was just a plateau, right? And it was just grass and trees, with this lovely breeze carrying the humidity from the Hylia river and the wetlands.

"The Sheikah-" Ariadne was interrupted by a huge clattering sound, glasses shattering and scattering across the floor. She looked over at what had happened, found a Goron who sounded oddly familiar- was all of Hyrule just 20 people recycled over and over? Surely not, she had met tons of people in the Domain and Kakariko she had never seen elsewhere- and quickly realised it was the guy who had been selling some snack foods when they were at the winter festival in Hateno only a few months earlier. The poor guy didn't seem to be doing much better now than he was before. She made to step in and help clean up some of the mess, but was overtaken by multiple people. Even Claria rebuked the people standing around laughing at the accident. As nobody seemed to be injured, Ariadne could do little but offer a sympathetic smile to the Goron and stay out of the way.


"That flair for the dramatic and those colourful concoctions? Quite the distinctive blend, rather like the cocktails themselves."

Sable shrugged, a sly smile betraying her amusement at the situation. A smile, by the way, a smile as in something only normally conveyed in the eyes and the plumage, but now possible due to the strange configuration of beak placement. It wasn't just an illusion for the sake of portraying something strange and alien to the party, but also something she had studied for. A glamour required the ability to control more than just magic, but also to test and train and study and work on in the mirror when nobody was showing up at the pub due to that unfortunate incident with a temporarily-dead Rito. "That checks out. When given the opportunity, I simply couldn't resist doing something dramatic."

Her eyes caught those of a blue-haired, goateed man who seemed to have been staring before she had even been aware of his presence. He was standing near enough to the bug girl to imply familiarity, but far enough away that he was likely caught off guard by Sable's costume. Which was, in its own way, gratifying, as she had truly put so much work into this. As she caught his gaze, she felt a strange sensation wash over her. Familiarity? No, she had definitely never met this person before. And yet there was something there. What a truly odd moment, and one that didn't last more than a millisecond, as he conspiratorially winked, pulled the mask down, grabbed some drinks and the bug lady, and whisked them all off back to the party.

She stood for a moment, lost in her thoughts. An odd, somewhat electric experience to have in this of all places. As she idled, her afterimages moved away from her and began restocking some of the drinks, taking advantage of the freed-up mental bandwidth of losing the exterior senses and looking inward.

"bwaaa bwa bwa Farosh's Wind?"

Sable blinked. Eyes darted to the side, then to the other. Then she blinked again, eyes finally focusing. She picked up a Farosh's Wind, jostled the glass slightly to show off the reflective, sparkly greens and yellows in the glass, and handed it across to the Feyranger. By the time she had completed this mostly-automatic response, she was fully back from wherever she had went. A dream state, perhaps. "Here you go, darling," she responded as her after-images returned to their mother to once again imitate her determined movements.

[Sav'saaba]

Mabel

Like a rather bold fairy godmother, her uncle had interrupted her libation deliberation by making a choice for her and spirited her away, back to the ball. Mabel needed that sometimes.

At Collin's directions, her attention had been swerved from an unfortunate accident involving a Goron and a handful of other guests, to, as her uncle put it, perhaps another wreck waiting to happen. That sounded a little harsh to the uninitiated, but she knew Collin had only used that description in playful jest. She exchanged a look with Collin, and her mouth quirked with amusement. It was a bit of an open secret to her family members that she had been crushing hard on Axel once upon a time.

That Zora was simply captivating. Mabel recognized her as the same one who had been dancing atop the fountain - Oh, Goddess, she still had not filled in her slate!
What would she even wish for, anyway? She and her twin had never known any kind of hardship - their parents had made certain of that.
It was for a reason that mom and dad had chosen to leave behind the squad and settle down in the quiet, safe region of Hateno, after all. The biggest problem that Mabel had to deal with in her life was picking out what to wear the next day. Not in the least because of items magically going missing from her wardrobe on the regular.

There were many who were not as lucky in life as she was. She had no right to covet, not really.
If there was anything she would wish for, it would be for the happiness of her family and friends, and of those who were less fortunate than herself. In good conscience, she could not write something down, and so she gifted the green rupee slate to a passing member of staff.
Working, on a night like this, instead of being pampered with fancy drinks and delicacies and getting to dance with a handsome stranger? That person needed a wish way more than she did.

When Mabel's attention shifted back to the dance floor, Axel had just proffered the Zora lady a hand, and that invitation did not go refused.

"Uncle Collin, if I can't find a dance partner by midnight, will you dance with me instead? I'd ask Ashley but knowing him, he's waltzing as we speak," she said quietly as she fumbled with the hem of a sleeve before taking a sip of the drink Collin had pushed into her hand at the bar. It was definitely not a virgin one.
"You can lead, I don't really know any of the steps. And stuff..."

Something green and red and predatory emerged in the periphery, a cloud of cloying cologne wafting in its wake.

"EXCUSE me, miss, mister? Would you be interested in purchasing tickets for the raffle, hmmm?" it said in its sing-song voice.

Moments later, Mabel was proud owner of a handful of tickets, to share with both her uncle and brother. And Axel, if he decided to not be a jerk.

[LuckyBlackCat]

Given the mockery that had instantly risen up, it surprised Micah that others jumped in to help just as quickly. The girl he'd nearly crashed into set about helping him clean using her costume wand to sweep up tiny shards in tile seams he didn't have the finesse to reach. A luminous Zora reprimanded the group who'd laughed at his misfortune. What he really hadn't expected, however, was for someone he knew to intervene.

"Shit. Micah! Are you OK?!"

At the concerned rumble of a voice, he looked up. "Gao?" The Sheikah's face was obscured behind a striped brown and magenta horse mask, but Micah recognised the network of pocked and jagged scars criss-crossing his torso, the friendly growl, the warm red eyes. "Y-Yeah... Just should've looked where I was going is all."

Right away, Gao pitched in with the clean-up, prompting a loud "Oi!" from one of the jeering onlookers as he plucked the drink from his hand, soaked a spare piece of cloth from his costume, and mopped up the remaining fragments. "Thanks, both of you." He looked from the Hylian woman to Gao, his lopsided smile stiff at the corners. If only he'd been more careful, the girl wouldn't have blamed herself, and he wouldn't have needlessly gone and worried Gao.

He nodded as Gao asked him to grab a sign. "Yeah, I'd better dispose of all this anyway," he replied, glancing at the tray piled with shattered glass. He made to stand, only for Gao to offer to grab the sign instead, with a firm yet comforting hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but... This has already taken a chunk of time out of your evening."

As he spoke, though, he recalled the Sheikah's insistence on doing as much as possible for others the last two times they'd met, his obvious discomfort at the notion of anyone putting themselves out for him even slightly. Even if there had to be a reason for this, if he was going to go out of his way to look out for others, he more than deserved to be looked out for in turn. Yet would Gao take the turning down of the offer the wrong way? Was Micah doing more harm than good... again?

With a drawn-out sigh, he stood. "Only if you're sure it's no trouble."


One of the youths sneered at Claria. "And I see you have no sense of humour- Oi!" The smirk vanished from his face as a particularly rugged Malanya she hadn't recognised behind the mask until the Goron had addressed him - Gao - swiped the drink from his hand. "Give that back!" The guy turned his affronted stare to her. "Make him give it back, will ya?"

Claria remained stony-faced. "Since you're enjoying the show so much, be grateful for the audience participation opportunity," she replied, gesturing towards Gao as he made good use of the drink to mop up the mess.

For all the grumbles and glares from the crowd, they stayed put, thankfully not quite foolish enough to cause a ruckus in front of security staff. Shifting her attention to those more worthy of it, Claria let a little smile soften her features as she looked from Gao to Ariadne. "So the three of us end up crossing paths yet again." First at Woodland Stable, then at the Yuletide Festival, and now here. How many more times, she wondered, would these impromptu meetings reoccur?

And on the subject of impromptu meetings... It hit her like a sudden bitter taste where she remembered the name Sable from. Oh no. No no no no no... If this was the same bartender as the one she'd met in a certain pub, Claria hadn't exactly made the best first impression. Assuming Sable remembered her - and that fiasco of an evening wasn't one anyone would forget in a hurry - the response to the sparking drinks would surely have reminded the bartender of how a mere turn of the weather had reduced her to a complete and utter wreck. Sable had been respectful about it, but still... The blood rose to Claria's face, colouring the white scales.

She shuffled back a step, both to give the clean-up crew some space and to conceal her unease. After sipping her beverage, attempting to ground herself in the present with the sweetness, she turned to Ariadne once more.

"And yes... I recall Kakariko Village does indeed have some soothing scenery." Now this was one of the many things she respected about Ariadne - her in-depth, honest responses instead of the expected platitudes. "Again, climbing to new heights in more ways that one? And it sounds like you're fitting in pretty well there."

As much as she'd missed Ariadne back at the Domain, the letters brought reassurance that the apprentice healer had found somewhere she could be much happier, somewhere that gave her a better sense of belonging.


Once the floor was clean, save for the drink now smeared across it, Alyson rose and tucked the wand away at her belt. "Nah, I should've watched where other people were going." She scanned the tiles once more for any errant slivers that could find their way into a bare talon or flipper - making a sudden stop in front of a bar hadn't been the greatest of moves, and this was much more her responsiblity than the Goron's.

With a soft breath of relief when she found none, she turned to Sable, who appeared... strangely startled at her request, eyes flicking from side to side before focusing, as if she'd just awoken from a dream. Distracted by other customers queuing up, possibly? In any case, Sable was quick to grant the request, passing her the colourful cocktail. Alyson held it up to the light, watching green and yellow sparkles swirl through the liquid as if carried on a miniature whirlwind, reflecting turquoise and gold.

"Something dramatic including this? And that makes two of us." She struck another Feyranger pose, feet parted, glass held high. The drink probably ruined the family-friendly aesthetic, but oh well. A gentle breeze ruffled the frills and ribbons of Ashley's handiwork. "To Castle Town!"

And there was the tailor in question, calling out to her as she took a sip of the tangy tropical fruit blend. "Oh hey again! Everything alright?" She didn't blame him for needing some air after the metric ton of work he'd been dealing with. She rolled her shoulders, also feeling the lingering effects of nigh-endless labour. "Sounds good! First, though, how about those tickets?"

She scanned the crowd. Immediately, she noticed the green-and-red-clad bundle of enthusiasm proudly advertising his wares, of which Mabel purchased several. "Looks like you might already have one." With a teasing grin, Alyson lowered her voice. "If you haven't gotten on her last nerve lately."

Stepping away from the bar, she reached into one of her coat pockets. "And a Feyranger can never have too much glitter!" She flung a handful of autumn-hued confetti high above her head, making it swirl on a stream of wind, covering her drink as the imitation leaves rained down all over her. "There, that makes things fair now!"

She downed another mouthful of the beverage before heading towards the dancefloor, the warmth of the alcohol blunting that sense of wrongness in the back of her mind. This was just some harmless, silly fun with friends to celebrate how the kingdom was bouncing back. It wouldn't be an insult to those who'd suffered during the Calamity, or to those who continued to suffer from its aftereffects. It wouldn't...

"Anyway, let's make a move!"

[El]

GAO

Gao's broad shoulders slumped, his heart aching at the Goron's habitually self-deprecating assurances and refusals. How easily Micah could intimidate and overpower any sort of threat or snubbery, and yet he was always so quick to bow his head and make himself small at the slightest mishap. As if he didn't deserve the space he occupied. The Sheikah felt his teeth grit.

"No paycheck is more valuable than a friend's wellbeing," He growled, though it certainly held no bite - only a comforting, gravelly rumble. "Go take a pew on the side: I'll deal with the rest, yeah?" It wasn't actually a question. Gao stood straight afterwards, slapping the cook's coarse shoulder with another firm pat as he did so - as if to punctuate the statement.

From behind him he caught wind of Claria's voice, carried over the bustle of the jolly crowds by the close proximity they'd ended up in. She was remarking on their chance meeting - thrice now. He smirked at her indisputable observation. Whichever Goddess ruled over Fate, they certainly enjoyed their patterns, didn't they? It seemed it was for the better though. As apprehensive as he'd been about being noticed in his-... current occupation and its bold attire, it wasn't tough to see just how close a bond the Zora had formed with her Hylian charge. A true friendship had bloomed. Gao's smirk softened into a heartfelt smile. Time really moved fast, huh.

Of course all of that was obscured though, masked as he was! And there was little time to make any further conversation either, as he spied - from the corner of his eye - the telltale twinkle of Naydra's crowning, brightest star: the tip of its horn was pulsing. That was the signal. As the Sheikah's gaze shifted from the constellation up above, he noticed a collection of Wizzrobe-clad mages had also emerged within the gaps of the musicians' balconies, their black-gloved hands readying wands of pale, warped wood. A few of the artists themselves exchanged knowing looks. The music began to oh so subtly shift.

"I'll be back before you know it." With one last nod towards Micah and a deeper, more lingering greeting nod towards Claria and Ariadne, Malanya swiftly strode through the crowds back to work. There was much to do and even more to achieve afterwards!

Despite his admittedly rather hectic itinerary, Gao made good on his promises however. It wasn't long before he returned with a mop and an eye-catching sign: the polished wood painted an alarming red and depicting a shocked, exclaiming globe of a fairy upon both sides. The remainder of the mess was quickly dealt with and safely marked. And above all, a goron-spiced tankard of hot cocoa was delivered into Micah's wide paws - whether he liked it or not!

"I've had a word with the head chef," Gao informed during his fleeting return, golden bangles clattering as he handed over the steaming drink. "You're all good to take another few minutes before returning to the kitchen, alright? Take it easy, bud. Tonight isn't a punishment, it's an opportunity and I know damn well you're fully capable of seizing it by the horns."

Should - or when - Micah returned to his post, the boss in charge was-... different. Changed. The bristles and agitated snark from before had instead softened into gratitude and an attitude that was a little too... ingratiating to be called merely polite. No more was he shunned or brushed aside. There were no more snapping retorts or yelling over his questions. On the contrary - should he accept - Micah was given plenty of opportunities for some hands-on learning with the other cooks, rather than being lumped with even more miscellaneous tasks. And they were all very pleasant about it. Remarkably so.

It was unclear exactly what Malanya had done. But it was nonetheless obvious that he'd had a lasting, memorable impact on the kitchen's staff during his brief visit.

He'd be visiting them in their dreams tonight.

Event Post

It began with the tiniest of details.

It crept in, like frost cobwebbing across a windowpane. Subtle. Patient. Building and biding its time. For the keen of ear - and the undistracted - it came first in a shift of the colourful orchestra's strings. The first time it could be mistaken for a simple slip-up: a tired finger pressing upon the wrong note. But more beats were missed. The melody began to warp. Pitches were bent and scales were mixed across all and every instrument, until a once jovial song was possessed by a bizarre distortion. One that wasn't quite right. It was trying - fighting - but failing.

Then the chandeliers began to quake. The countless stars that decorated the obscured night sky of the grand ceiling stuttered. A cold breeze ruffled the swooping, silken banners. A tremor belowfoot tickled at heels and boots, scales and talons, and all the while a darkness brewed in the deepest corners of the ballroom.

A little boy dressed in all green with a pointed hat and white tights, was just about to remark to his gang of friends and their cake-covered mitts how weird it was that his shadow appeared to be moving when-

The lights went out.

Darkness.

Time was given to the longest of pauses, but the horned sentinels several guests had spotted as the Ball's main security force were nowhere to be seen - nor heard.

Then there came a laugh: a LOUD, operatic booming laugh, dramatically villainous in its flavour and flamboyantly melodic as it echoed and bounced from every wall and polished surface, reverberating through the silverware and humming through the champagne flutes. It marked the true beginning of a storm. One which revived with a shrill wail the pained strings and the panicked beating of drums - erratic but fierce and building. Layer upon layer the orchestra was restored in full force, but now it described in horrifying poetry a story of danger and poison and tragedy.

As a dimmed light returned to the twinkling stars and the tall candelabras below, the illumination revealed a myriad of swooping shadows. They spun through the vast ballroom. Swirled below tablecloths, past billowing dresses and colourful capes. Raced up high in dashing spirals, curling around columns and bouncing between roosts. All the while the laughter continued, the source eventually identifiable by the pulsing flash of a sparkling figure who at one second stood there, then here, then in a blink right over there - or right behind you.

Prancing with lithe agility despite the heels, the sparkling dragon appeared to teleport with every bouncing step of her dance, her slender figure and its decorating crystals aglow with an ominous, symbolic purple. They blurred with her speed, leaving streaks of poisoned taint in her wake. But still she laughed and she pranced and she danced. Manic. In her corrupted elegance she consumed the ballroom in chaos of her own making, striking up illusions of blizzard gales with each swoop of a gloved hand, and kicking up tides of crystalising shadow that broke across guests' feet.

But fear not! A hero was afoot!

Or so said the dramatic shift of the orchestra, with a mighty boom of a horn and the flair of energised guitar chords. With a beckoning trill from up above a gleaming, gold fox pounced, three lush tails in tow and his sword unsheathed! He landed with crouched guile but wasted no time in engaging his flamboyant adversary. The fiend would be slayed! The deity purified! She dodged and spun and they wove and spiralled, dragon and fox engaged in a tumultuous show of conflict. Evade as she did, taunt as she would, the hero kept up his chase, close at her heel.

The chaotically beautiful choreography was punctuated by unpredictable flashes of light: when his sword connected with her form, shards of shattered scales would burst and fizzle into the ether. Glitter left damp traces upon the marble floor. Scraps of lustrous fabric bled dripping rivers of black. Naydra was tattered and she was breaking, but still she boomed out her operatic laugh, warped and twisted and fervent until-

-The blade sliced open her bared back.

She fell.

Collapsed right into the Keaton's quickly catching arm.

As she laid within his embrace, resting upon the warmth of his golden fur, the rest of her malice melted away. Illuminated trickles of magic swept across her spine, over naked arms and glittering shoulders, stocking-clad thighs and decorated ankles: each one a scar, a mark of the fox's blade. The rivers pooled below the pair, agleam with a light so bright and stark it was unclear when exactly the myriad of rupees appeared or from where. They were simply there. And Naydra was freed, her glacial dress fresh with crisp whites and striking hues of blue. Bountiful volumes of cyan ringlets cascaded free.

The Keaton champion smirked down at her, sheathing his blade with his spare hand. Ciel smirked back, the silken scarf tied about her slender neck still drooping all the way down to the floor.

"BRAVO!!!" Exclaimed the Count and Countess. They had retreated to the lowest steps of the grand staircase, and begun the first of the raucous applause that soon erupted. In tides of infectious delight the rest of the ballroom soon followed, their claps a closing chorus for the swooping bows that Ciel and her guest then spun into, low and graceful, to finish the act.

"AND THAT-!" Count Beaumont continued, raising a glass of Dinraal's Flame - its swirling magma jostled and agleam with golden glitter, "Marks the beginning of our last official dance of the night: THE MIDNIGHT DANCE!"

"Get your votes at the ready, gentlefolk," Chimed in the Countess, snaking her arm through her husband's burly bicep. She raised a glass of her own, though her grin shone far brighter than the light which struck upon it. "Once this dance reaches its conclusion, popular vote will crown the KING of the ball!"

"And the Queen shall be crowned by our dearest CiCi herself." The father added, motioning down towards the purified Naydra who only now was straightening upright with a proud and cunning smile.

"Choose wisely, friends, for this night's monarchy will have the delight of choosing a dream from the Wishing Well, as well as the opportunity to materialise their own!"

"But for now-!" The Count and Countess clinked their glasses and chuckled, doe-eyed with mirth and love. "HAVE FUN!!!"

And so resumed the music proper, though now the tune was more sultry and suave. And the light, though also returned, held fast to its more subdued hues of mysterious purples and now warmed oranges.

CIEL

She wasn't the only one who had the gall to portray Malice. Ha!

Ciel's eyes crinkled into gleaming shards of humour, despite the shadows the feathery, frosted 'lashes of her mask drowned them in. Yes, she remembered this one. At the time - in her original guise as a shapeshifted waiter - she had chosen to approach his robed companion, (how delightful to see that the two had been conversing ever since!), but now it was the Royal Mage's turn. This one would get a more formal introduction.

Well, of sorts.

Stepping aside as two Blupee-masked staff members hurried into the middle of the dancefloor - cane-mounted Octorok balloons sucking clean up all the spilled debris, rupees and all - Ciel strode with horned delight directly towards Arcade. She didn't say anything. Truthfully, she couldn't really. But nor did she try.

Instead she extended a gloved hand, the palm faced upwards in open invitation. The quirk of her eyebrow may have been hidden, but the questioning curl of her glossed lips was not.

A dance, mayhaps?

GAO

After collecting a platter of courtesy drinks, Malanya had begun doing the rounds at the perimeter of the ballroom. While many other members of staff had been tasked with collecting the guest's votes for the night's King, he too had been enlisted to 'lead the charge', so to speak.

Besides, after seeing Tingle giddily prancing away to the backroom with armfuls of purchased raffle tickets, he was beginning to feel the tickling burn of competitive spirit. That energetic middle-aged man and his incredibly tight rubber pants had proven oddly motivating after all. Gao may not have gotten to remind people of their rupee-slates, but he would prove useful this time around!

...It was however still a little embarrassing to stand like this before Mabel of all people though. He could still feel the determined chill of her imprisonment... The ardently concerned insistence. See the bright eyes and blushing cheeks. Feel the comforting warmth-...

Gao cleared his throat, his liquor-red gaze shifting between both the young woman and her companion. Judging by his equally colourful hair and a shared resemblance of features, he suspected the two were related somehow. But that was neither here nor there.

"Are you prepared to cast your vote for the Best Dressed 'King', Miss and Mister?" He offered up a half-emptied tray of palette-cleansers, ignoring the rumbling bass of a growl which had crept into his voice. Some people's voices got shrill when they were nervous. Gao's went the other way.

"Or should I return later?"

ARTHUR

"A smoothie please, pretty miss!" Called out a small but very memorable figure as it approached Sable's bar. Despite being encumbered by his ornate, geometric suit, he had made sure to keep his little hands free and nimble to snatch all manner of tasty treats on this fine night. Now they clasped onto the polished edge of the counter - just beside a glowie Zora and her witchy friend - his shadowed but curious eyes peeping over the edge. The shelves back there were full of all sorts of things! Bottles of this and that, of every size and colour! And the lady herself was-... Was. Whatever she was, it was a spectacle worthy of open adoration.

The current song was giving him the big ick, the mood of the night having taken a turn that made his skin crawl. EUGHK. He figured it was best to let the adults have their time to play and seize this opportunity to indulge while they were distracted and unable to supervise! (Ignorant as he was to the forever watchful gaze of all informed staff. Yet he was permitted ample freedom in his choices tonight, so long as they weren't harmful.)

"A biiiiiiiig one!" Arthur elaborated, splaying his arms out wide. Despite the noble enunciation, he still had all the energy and enraptured delight for life of a well-loved child. "With your best flavours, please miss! Those ones there - in the fanciest bottles!"

Meanwhile, in the background - 'subtle' as always - Treasure Octorok reporter Traysi was still on the job, adjusting the lens of her marvellous contraption to grab a good shot of the scene.

She'd lost Her Highness and her Knight amongst the crowds and had gotten tired of staff 'coincidentally' blocking her at every turn to capture them in their dazzling Gerudo garbs. Arthur was a far easier target, and readers always enjoyed a bit of sweetness. So she slunk down low amongst the stools and table-legs, tentacles drooping around a glinting lens as it awaited a prime shot. The lady behind the bar was cutting a striking figure too!

[Rex Draco]

After talking to the reporter, the sorcerer slid away, sinking back into the shadows of the surroundings. It wasn't as if he was trying to hide, but instead he wanted to take a moment and observe things as they were. After all it was quite a step for him to take from slumber to sorries, suddenly steeped in social interactions, despite his hidden visage. He proposed to himself that it was an ample opportunity to get to know the ins and outs of society as it was now. How far had it changed from the strict divisions of nobility and commoners? Were they a wholly communist society that shared and shared alike, living off the equal share of crops or meat? He doubted it since the presence of monarchies in the three great kingdoms still remained.

Who was let into events such as these painted a picture of hierarchies and brought to light the divisions set upon people, even if the beneficiaries might be more ready to disregard titles and trade. For even if the Beaumonts lauded their workers and treated their servants like kin: that wasn't to say the visitors did the same. It was hard for him to tell, due to covered faces, just who was a rich noble that had bought their outfit from a tailor suffered with overwork for such an event, and who had been commoners who spent months preparing for the day of. The outfits were all relatively well done and none seemed plagued by the usual dismay of an untrained hand such as loose stitches or lopsided seams. But his goal wasn't just to learn about the people — it was to find their leaders.

He had spotted the damn woman when the reporter was talking to him, but now, now where had she gone? The so-called, self-proclaimed, Queen of Hyrule was galavanting around in Gerudo traditional dress. He felt a little annoyed, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Before he was ale to fully begin his search: it seems there had been an accident on the dancefloor that cleared much of it out for the time being, though many still remained. A spill? He continued to look around, hardly moving beyond the languid stride of a landbound jellyfish. There was a call across the halls that caused the lumbering lamprey to raise his head slightly, the edge of his cowl shrouding his features still. Votes? He wondered if this game of being crowned would have any meaning were there no kings and queens ruining society as a whole? 

"Where did that woman go...?" His lips pulled back over his razor sharp jaws, lamenting having missed his chance. He wasted so much time with small talk, but he would be remiss to be seen as unsociable... "Has Zelda already departed?" He murmured to himself.

He would proceed to the voting space. Here he hoped not only to vote for his own fantastic sense of fashion, he wanted to see if that woman somehow made her way here in order to vote for her own, inappropriate costume, or had tried to slink away from that nosy reporter.

[Chaosome]

Arcade eventually found himself left to his own observations once more. Traysi had wandered off in search of Zelda, and the berobed Zora had meandered off on his own whims too. Just as well, he wasn't here to socialize in particular. Rubbing elbows with nobles hardly stoked the fires of intellectual pursuit. Granted, in this day and age nobility was hardly commonplace as per title, but many still held the insipid, vapid, and self-congratulatory air that many nobles so loved. It was tiring. However what he knew of the Beaumont family at least painted them with a glimmer of interest for the Rito... or at least one member in particular did, anyway. Such an endless source of rumours was bound to...

A pause. Squinting around the ballroom. The music had shifted, ever so slightly at first, discordant notes and trembling chords. Not mistakes, but intentional shifts in tone, both musically and atmospherically. A show was about to begin. The rumbling of the chandeliers came in waves, the faux stars flickering and blinking out as slowly but surely darkness grew around the ballroom before finally the light was snuffed out.

The silence that followed stretched on for a moment. One long enough to put just the appropriate amount of unease across the majority of the crowd before a peal of operatic laughter broke the tense silence and the show began. The music spun back up with a frantic and shuddering strings and quaking drums. A wordless story told through its cacophony. Then the lights returned one by one, that laughter bouncing hither and yon as some figure pranced and bounced its way swiftly and silently through the crowd. Arcade could have sworn he felt breath on his neck for a brief moment.

Eventually the lights rose enough that the figure was visable. Streaks of purple and shadow trailing in her wake, the costume work was, well, a work of art. An immaculately put together rendition of the once Corrupted Naydra. Truly fascinating subject in and of themselves those dragons, Arcade knew his limitations as far as test subjects went though, and alas the trio was out of that realm. So many questions left unanswered: What was their diet? Did they sleep as they flew or had they nests? Do they respond to any external stimuli?... Could they be controlled?

But Arcade hadn't the time to get lost in thought and calculations, a show was afoot. One may not think it, but the Rito was rather fond of theater. First showings were often the best, it was interesting to see just how things would pan out in certain situations, it was like being able to run experiments indirectly. Second showings were rarely quite as interest but still held variables that kept his attention, new actors, adjusted props, perhaps malfunctions they had to deal with? Frivolous glimpse into the mortal psyche, perhaps, but data points none the less.

This little play of course held a predictable pattern, it was based on real life, after all. The young swordsman freeing a majestic dragon from the clutches of darkness. Were it not true Arcade would find it a rather heavy handed allegory. In a way it still was. Regardless though, the showmanship that the Keaton-themed champion and the Lady Ciel showed were nigh flawless. So when applause came, even Arcade tamped down his staff upon the floor.

With the little show at its end and the announcement of the final dance called, Arcade had intended to turn his attention back elsewhere, making a mental note to slip away and cast a vote before the evening was over. There were quite a number of well put together costumes, though he'd of course be putting a vote in for himself. But that train of thought was derailed by 'Naydra's' approach. Highly unexpected in and of itself, but the inquisitive extension of her hand hadn't even entered calculations.

A brief veil of surprise passed over Arcade's features before being replaced with a polite smile and bow. "Why it would be my honour, Lady Beaumont. A moment." before taking her hand, Arcade had to free his other. With his uncovered hand he'd tap a small hidden switch upon the staff in the other, some of the 'Malice' retracting away into a hidden chamber on the rod, freeing his hand with ease. Once it was, he'd place the staff upon his back and gently take Ciel's outstretched hand.

Unexpected though it was, one must always be ready for any outcome, foreseen or otherwise. Which did, in fact, include ballroom dancing, as Lady Cici would soon find that the bird was quite the experienced dance partner...

[Emily]

She smiled warmly at Alyson. Sweet, gentle Alyson, always friendly and ready to work on things. Raising a drink of her own, a tall, thin glass filled with what looked like Dinraal's Flame, but with a ring of dark clouds (smoke?) circling the exterior about three-quarters of the way up, Sable responded. "To Castle Town." When she took a sip, one could almost see the afterimage of a long-necked dragon reflected in the glass.

Alyson turned after that, chatting with the other guests, and Sable returned to making the requested spell-cleansers. It was an easy enough recipe- mostly water by way of splashfruit, with some blupee tears, a little broth made from vegetables gathered in the Deku Forest. Water was great at cleansing the body of things that were already in it, while the other ingredients were basic fey ingredients, allowing the magical aura within and without the body to become destabilised for a moment. And that was where the final ingredient came in. She prepared multiple champagne flutes on a tray for Gao to take away. Before pouring the concoction, she sprinkled some dust into each glass. Ground Lynel horn. A powerful ingredient, extremely expensive in large amounts, but for a few dozen glasses she needed maybe a tenth of what one horn could produce. The power of the Lynel helped to elevate the brew. Some apple and wildberry juice mixed in helped with the flavour.

While she was certain the staff had been let in on the night's events, Sable wasn't precisely staff. She had been contracted out as a local business-owner to participate in the ball, preparing products. The Beaumonts were paying her- they were in fact paying her far more than her asking rate would have been- but she didn't have free access to the secrets and locations involved in their manor, certainly not in the same way that even a horse-drawn fixer or caterer or security would be. There was no reason for the bartender to be informed of anything outside the general theme and tenor of the event, to prepare appropriate drinks, and to be told about the primary locations where guests would be shepherded.

And yet she had made assumptions. Some hadn't paid off, but might throughout the evening.

As the shadows began closing in, however, Sable hid a satisfied smirk. Her slender hand reached up to the ruby hanging from her neck. She pressed with her thumbnail, leaving the slightest impression in the stone. As her own shadow began to shiver beneath her, her afterimages began to shift as well, beginning to dim and shimmer as if hallucinations in the desert.

The lights went out completely. When they returned, Sable and her afterimages had become different entirely, though only for a flash of recognition before returning to what they had already been. Sable's eyes were twice as large, and red instead of gold, with the rotating tattoo around one of the eyes now portraying a series of blades, taking up half of her face. She had extremely sharp teeth protruding from her mouth, and claws where her nails had once been, and parts of her body had been replaced with eyes. Behind her, her afterimages were fully shadowed, three to each side. The first resembled first a Hylian/Sheikah shape with streaks of light falling from his eyes like running mascara. Opposite was the shape of a bulky Zora with some sort of growth from its forehead, and sparkles like stars all over its body. A third was a small, feminine shape who appeared to be the same kind of Rito as Sable presented herself to be, with long hair shining in red. Next to the Zora stood a tall, thin Hylian or Sheikah figure with a flowing gown, wild hair, and what seemed to be a blindfold. Furthest from Sable, next to the red-haired Rito, stood a male Hylian figure holding some sort of stringed instrument, while furthest on the other side was another male Hylian figure with blue shining hair, this one wielding some manner of possibly Zonai, possibly Sheikah projectile weapon.

And then they were back to normal, as was she. They all applauded the victory of the Keaton over the Dragon, and the subsequent announcements. And, in all fairness, it was quite the show. She was no illusion master, but Sable could see a lot of the little touches put on the performance, and was highly impressed. She had a lot to learn if she wanted to match this sort of show.

"A smoothie please, pretty miss!" came the call, and immediately Sable was glad her shadow form was only designed to last a brief second. Hopefully this child hadn't seen anything that would leave him scarred. She leaned on the bar to listen to him continue. ""A biiiiiiiig one! With your best flavours, please miss! Those ones there - in the fanciest bottles!"

"For such a noble fusion construct, anything!" Sable made a show of it, grabbing a bottle here and there, stopping one of her afterimages when it attempted to pour something into the glass. She ground up ice from a tray to the side and placed it into a cup while first one, then two afterimages grabbed various bottles (all, of course, from what had been requested) and, in the end... "Tada!" she said, presenting a large strawberry and vanilla smoothie with bits of lemon peel in the mix and some blueberries along the top of the glass. Her afterimages celebrated, holding their arms up and silently cheering. If Arthur watched it, he would see little illusory fusion constructs hitting one another like they were fighting in the blue-and-red swirled expanse, but neither would ever get the upper hand.

"So the three of us end up crossing paths yet again."

Ariadne had been a little lost in the situation around them, and didn't really recognise Gao until Claria had pointed out the situation. She gaped. "No way-" and then he ran away! Galloped! "-it no, come back," she declared. She watched until Malanya come again disappeared into the back. DID HE WORK HERE?

"I-" she heard what Claria was saying, but got stuck thinking back to that first day where they had all met. "Claria, I... I think I accidentally made Gao think he's a horse. I told him once that I had grown up in the stables and that he smelled like horses after it rains.

"Uh, but, yeah! No, you should absolutely come and visit some time. It's nice and cool there in the valley, and there's a stream running through, and everyone's really nice. There's this girl I've been-" she froze. Fortunately her appearance was all manner of hidden, so she couldn't be given away by blushing, but she still didn't know how to proceed with that sentence.