The Beaumont Ball [Player Event][CLOSED]

[LuckyBlackCat]

Micah nodded back, shuffling away from the mess as he watched Gao disappear into the crowd. As insistent as the Sheikah had been that he take a rest, Micah couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that he was imposing on an already overworked fellow staff member. And what if his dawdling irked the head chef? What if the boss took out his frustration not just on him, but on the rest of the cooks? How would he even explain this whole fiasco?

So lost was he in thoughts of what to say, and of worst case scenarios, that the huge tankard of steaming hot cocoa he found promptly pushed into his hands took him by surprise. "Oh!" Already, the warmth and the spiced aroma began to soothe him. "Smells great! You didn't have to, but... Again, thank you for everything!"

His eyebrows arched as Gao informed him he had permission to take a quick break. Between the sheer workload and the boss' complete lack of patience, that was just as unexpected as the cocoa. Gao had to have quite the knack for negotiation. Either that or his jovial presence simply put people at ease.

"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."

A subtle smile tugged at Micah's mouth. "Will do. As in, will do both."

Sipping the beverage, savouring its comforting heat, Micah turned towards the balcony as Gao resumed his duties. Already, the music began to distort, Wizzrobe-costumed figures gathering and raising their wands to summon forth special effects. Whatever his Sheikahn friend had done, did this mean he'd have time to watch the upcoming show he'd been told about?


Although Carmine kept up the rhythm his deft pinions coaxed from the strings, at the whisper behind him, he spared a glance over his shoulder. A Sheikah clad in a golden fox costume sat directly behind him, dual swords at his waist, three black-tipped tails draped over the stool, a crafty glint in his scarlet eyes. Had Carmine not been in the know, the air of quiet cunning the man projected would have been somewhat unsettling, but he gave the fox a conspiratorial nod before turning his attention back to the ballroom.

The plan was underway.

His gaze travelled back to Raemi, who despite the initial blunder, had mustered the confidence to grip the hand of the white-haired youth who'd returned, even finding it in herself to gently pull him forward and guide him into the beginning of a dance. Her fins flared wide, those mesmerising colours on full display. The corners of Carmine's eyes pulled into a smile. Warmth rose through him at the sight of her casting her worries aside, enjoying the evening and the company of a dance partner - along with the faintest tinge of something bittersweet. What, exactly? Not that he cared to examine it. She was happy, and that was what mattered.

He focused instead on the cue the fox's appearance had provided. Every so often, he'd slip in a delayed beat, a note a fraction too high or too low, a minor chord instead of the expected major. The melody distorted into an eerie ambiance as the other musicians all around did the same. A tremor ran through the floor along with the vibrations from the orchestra. A chill gust picked up. Shadows shifted and slithered in the corners.

Moments later, the hall plunged into darkness, preceding a theatrically sinister laugh that rang through the entirety of the space. The show had begun in earnest.

And what a show it was. Speeding up his strumming to a frantic pace, Carmine watched the newly-restored light reveal shadows flitting around in all directions like a swarm of Keese, heralding the arrival of the performance's star. A third dragon, crystals glistening with the purple taint of corruption all along her black costume, waltzed and spun past the guests, cackling as she left illusions of raging snowstorms in her wake. Carmine's elation soured for a second. As impressive as the effect was, he'd seen enough of those to last a lifetime.

That wasn't the only thing making his talons curl. The key moment was about to begin. A moment that would be crucial to get exactly right. As soon as the horn blared, Carmine launched into a much more upbeat tempo befitting of a hero's dramatic entrance, making sure it melded seamlessly with the frenetic swell of the music all around. Never before had he poured so much passion and energy into his playing as when the fox sped past him in a blur of gold, leaping from the balcony and launching into the dance of combat. Light erupted with every sword strike against the dragon's crystalline form, contrasting with bursts of dark scale fragments, until the final blow sent her slumping into his arms. Streams of sparkles from each "wound" washed away the Malice, leaving her in a pristine white dress adorned with brilliant cyan gems.

Naydra was purified.

Applause filled the ballroom. Carmine puffed up his chest. He'd done it. He'd successfully contributed to something as grand as tonight's epic tale. He held in a chuckle as he imagined how his brothers would respond if only they knew. The last of his jitters trickled away like the dragon's taint as he used the pause to stretch the cramps out of his wingtips, before starting on the slower melody that would accompany the night's final dance.


When the lights winked out and confused murmurs filled the room, Claria maintained her composure. She, along with the other security staff, had been briefed as to the night's event. Sadly, their duties meant they wouldn't get to fully enjoy it in the same way as everyone else. There was no telling whether someone would take advantage of the distraction to cause trouble. She snaked her tail over her shoulder, stretching an arm out in front of her, brightening her lights just enough to watch for any unusual movement. The fins over her earholes lifted. She spread her feet wide, one firmly placed in front of the other, as she kept alert for vibrations in the ground other than what could be expected.

Slowly, the darkness lifted to reveal the opening dance, but Claria's senses remained finely tuned. Her attention shifted away from the corrupted dragon, no matter how commanding her presence, towards another seemingly Malice-infested likeness so lifelike her instincts kicked in, her torso subtly swivelling, her back leg bending as if she braced herself for combat. Sable had gone all out with her glamour. Not only had the bartender taken on a demonic appearance, eyes covering much of her clawed, fanged form, blade tattoos rotating over one side of her face, her afterimages no longer reflected her, but displayed a multitude of silhouettes. A Rito much like herself, several Hylians and Sheikah sporting unusual clothing and gear... and a Zora whose body glittered with luminous patches, similar to Claria's own.

Less than a second later, Sable and the afterimages reverted. Claria studied her a moment longer. Had that been a reference to... something she wasn't aware of? A folktale of some kind?

As the main spectacle unfolded, Claria kept scanning the ballroom, although she caught snippets of the mock battle. An awe-inspiring one at that, between the choreographed swordplay and the expertly crafted illusions. One didn't grow up in Zora's Domain without developing at least some appreciation for dance, theatre, poetry, and other such art forms. Even if the culture of perfectionism surrounding them wore on her nerves, and she personally found that the simpler and less polished arts went underappreciated despite having just as much merit, an elaborate display like this one was certainly something to admire.

A round of applause went up at Naydra's simultaneous saving and defeat. Claria tapped her fingers against her glass, a much more subdued response than that of the rest of the crowd, but still one that made her appreciation clear. Once it died down, she sidled closer to Sable. "I couldn't help noticing that show of your own you put on. That form you took... and those silhouettes. Did they represent anyone in particular?" Out of all of them, it had been the glowing Zora who'd intrigued her the most. Did Sable have ties to her people?

"Claria, I..." Ariadne's bewildered voice drew Claria's attention back. Her friend had... made Gao think he was a horse? A rarely-heard sound rumbled in her throat. A shade of a laugh. Yes, the three had met for the first time at a stable. Yes, she recalled Gao had smelled rather ripe, but so would anyone who'd travelled long-distance on foot in warm weather. Had the initial meeting stuck with him? Or did he frequent stables on a regular basis?

She leaned in as Ariadne continued, her features softening further at the apprentice's newfound happiness. "I'm glad for you. That you found the friendly community you deserve. As for visiting, I'm sure I can arrange something sometime soon. When would..."

It was just Ariadne's luck that the kid from the Yuletide festival - Ciel's brother - immediately took interest and inquired further, his cubic costume clanking with his approach. Claria folded her arms. "That," she made clear, "is for Ariadne to tell on her own terms." However, her lips remained quirked at the corners. What was it about children that was so aggravating yet endearing at the same time? "Although if you are up for letting on more..." Her eyes glinted as they flicked towards Ariadne. "I'd be interested to hear it."

[Emily]

"I couldn't help noticing that show of your own you put on. That form you took... and those silhouettes. Did they represent anyone in particular?"

Pale golden eyes settled on Claria. For a moment, a profound weariness only acquired through prolonged hardship reflected in those eyes, before they refocused on the scene in front of her, on the pleasant, helpful Zora she had only met in unfortunate circumstances before this one. The Zora who seemed so easily to connect with others despite carrying her own problems, her own traumatic memories and circumstances. Enviable. Sable wasn't entirely certain how best to formulate a way to talk about these things, the best way to convey.

She took a breath. The tattoo spun. "Yes," she began. An unbidden, almost embarrassed smile appeared. "I admit, I didn't expect anyone would see it. I occasionally... I guess you could say I pay respects to things that happened a long time ago. All of my shadows were real people, though until a few moments ago I feared they might be lost entirely except in my memory.

"I imagine you're curious about the Zora? It's funny, other than appearance, you don't seem to be anything alike. He-" she paused, as the red-haired Hylian seemed to have some minor crisis, splitting both the young Beaumont's and Claria's attention away from her. She looked to her afterimages, knowing them all by name, even if they themselves were but pale imitations of those they had briefly represented. Under her breath, she finished the sentence. "He was viciously cruel."

She smirked at the admission of budding affection, or was it more, between the Hylian and some girl in Kakariko Village. It seemed to be an eternal cycle, didn't it? Childish minds turning toward noble ambition, young love becoming deep affection. She looked at the smooth, glassy surface of a one of the drinks on the bar. The clear water's surface reflects growth, if only one listens and reflects.

Turning to fix up some of the drinks, she watched the proceedings out of the corner of her eye. The young Beaumont was so forward, the young Zora so chivalrous. Ariadne, as she was called, seemed too inexperienced for her age, even as young as she was. Or maybe that was just the lens through which she had been forced to see the world.

Even now, she saw the Hylian's face turn approximately the same shade of red as her hair. The bubbling panic, the lack of confidence. She began to wonder if there would be any response at all, even as Claria expressed her own interest in the tea.

"I don't know!" the young woman exclaimed. Sable smirked. What was the term? Disaster lesbian? "There hasn't been any k-kissing or anything-" Ooh, how scandalous, a stutter! "like that. We just, we hang out at her house or go on walks and we talk a lot. I don't even know if she likes me like that, it's probably nothing. But yeah, you know, it's cool. It'd be great for you to come out to Kakariko and hang out and see what it's like. There's lots of really good food out there as well."

Sable drained her own glass, grimaced at the heat and strength of the hard whiskey, the evoked flavours she had become so accustomed to mixing into her feelings of the past. She turned once more to look out at the assembled people, so similar yet so different from what she had expected from her life. It was amazing how someone could be surrounded by so many people, but feel so strangely isolated.

[Chaosome]

In another life, perhaps Arcade had been a nobleman himself, he clearly understood the little steps of high society. How everything, in its own way, was a test. Even something as simple as greetings or a dance was, on a certain level, a measuring of wits. How one could carry themselves in such situations spoke more than one would think about how they could carry themselves in business or in interpersonal connection. It was a science in and of itself, albeit one that held little savor to the Rito. It did, however, provide for an amusing diversion from his usual work from time to time.

Such as now.

Arcade kept his gaze even with the Lady Beaumont's, a small bemused smile of his own resting on his features. As expected of the nobles and the whimsical, the young woman was taking his measure. Not just within the dance that grew more fanciful as it stretched on, but with her gaze as well. The wordless question of 'who are you?' was not one that could simply be answered by name and station, nor would it be answered by elaborate footwork. No, that was for the convenience of proximity. The eyes were the window to one's soul, many said, and one could certainly read a lot from one's gaze. Whether it was true or purely poetry, it was a curiosity to Arcade. Something had drawn her to him.

What he knew of Lady Ciel Beaumont was not much. Passing rumours and hearsay that could very well be as true as they could be false. What he could easily believe is in the Lady's flights of fancy and wistful whims. Eccentricity was the flavour of many nobles, but not in the way of Ciel. And so it was easy enough to tell what she wasn't after. It wasn't purely a social visit, hardly a courting type, and while the man would hardly put it past her, he doubted it was merely to pull a prank upon someone — though in all likelihood, the little incident of drinks earlier in the night had her fingerprints all over it.

No, he wagered, it was was something more simple, more primal. Something that the two disparate souls shared in relative common. She wanted to know. Something about him caught her interest for the moment. What it was however eluded him. Perhaps it was just as mysterious to her as it was to him. But what the young woman could glean from the Rito's gaze was much, if the soul could truly be seen thusly. Even still, the bird's golden gaze sparkled with curiosity that belayed his even manners, just as she was trying to understand what made Arcade tick, he was doing the same to her.

A spin, during which Arcade clasped her hand tighter to not let her fall, where his thumb brushed the back of her hand. She was warm, not in the way that a person normally was, but in the way water on a spring day was. A twirl that pulled her back into his arms, dipping down dramatically with their chests close enough that it was simple to feel one another's heartbeat. Steady, rhythmic, but with no irregularity despite the feverish performance before and the daring dance now. Now he was curious. Now he was wondering 'who are you?'.

As Ciel pulled close once more, at the tale end of their dance, something else became all the more apparent to him. The thrum of magic, something Arcade knew all too well thanks to his work, didn't so much dance around the woman as it did flow like a river. From curious to fascinating. No longer simply a preponderance of 'who' but now of 'what' as well. Arcade's gaze pinched up as he smiled. "A most enlightening dance, your Ladyship. I wonder what aught you've learned from this little conversation. I would be most delighted to have a follow up when time permits. But it seems you've grown weary from your exertions, and while I would not deign to sway you one way or another, should you desire a break before you're inevitably required for the festivities once more, perhaps now would be as good of a time as any?"

No matter how many questions and theories he had to test in his head, Arcade knew there was a time and a place. He didn't doubt that their paths would cross again at some point, she had piqued his interest now, after all.

[LuckyBlackCat]

Although Claria gave Ariadne a subtle knowing smile, she didn't press any further, flustered and crimson-faced as her friend already was. "I'll gladly come along and visit as soon as is best for both of us," she replied. During that one brief stay there for Depths purposes, she'd been mostly focused on Zonai Survey Team matters, but this would be a chance to truly appreciate the place and all it had to offer, as well as witness how well Ariadne was fitting in. "That way you'll be the one showing me around. Is there any time in the near future that would work for you?"

While it heartened her that Ariadne's experiences brought her joy, it appeared many of Sable's had not, a soul-deep exhaustion flickering through the Rito's whimsical facade, telling of the kind of loss and letdown that wore at a person over the years like water at a rock. Yet Sable wished to hold on to them, revive them even if only for the briefest of moments. Claria recalled a similar illusory effect she'd witnessed back in Lanayru, rasping words from the painted lips of the one who'd conjured scenes from a time long gone by. I am sure you, Claria, know perhaps better than most that the past does not simply stay in the past. We carry it with us, always."

Sable, it seemed, also knew that better than most.

"Someone once said that it's important to acknowledge the past... that it serves as our foundations," Claria told her. As uncomfortable as the idea of it not being so easy to cast aside had made her back then, as much as she'd pushed back, she supposed it had more than a grain of truth to it, for better or for worse.

"And I'll admit, I did wonder about the Zora." She sipped from the flute, cautious of delving too deep into a painful subject for Sable. She held out her free arm, the spots beneath the crystal accessories flaring for a second. "A given, considering the markings. Can't say he's anyone I recognise though, and don't blame you if you'd rather not say much about him. He doesn't sound worth it anyway."

The way Sable had spoken of the figures in the shadows... Were they even still around? Were they lost to time, or simply lost to her? People did have a tendency to drift apart, or reveal less than pleasant sides of themselves.

What Claria could relate to most of all was the bartender's palpable isolation in a crowd, looking out over the merriment and mingling yet not quite part of it, the counter a barrier between her and the others. They'd both taken on jobs here that made such unavoidable, but something about Sable's weary gaze at the ballroom's occupants hinted her to be just as accustomed to that as she was.

"Until a few moments ago..." Claria repeated. "If you don't mind saying, what did you mean by that? Did something give you the idea?"