The Queens Ball (Samheen 24)

[saskia]

The lights are dim, flickery, soft, like thousands of candles light the huge ballroom.

The wall are alternately covered with large mirrors and brightly colored carpets. From the painted ceiling little plump winged babies look down at you, coloured birds fly through soft clouds, and strange animals stare at you from behind exotic trees.

The music is soft, just beyond your hearing, more like a faint drumming in your body then really music.
Still, there are people dancing, their bright dresses sparkling and whirling, both men and women dressed formally, but very rich in colour. Jewels spark, fans flutter, high heeled shoes softly click on the polished wooden floor.

The whole scene is one big whirl of colour and style, of soft velvet and waving feathers, of pretty ladies and handsome gentlemen dancing, walking moving....


Still, there is a sense of tension in the large room, a sense of apprehension, like the crowd is waiting for something, like the party has not really begun, cannot begin until this particular thing has happened.
The murmur of voices is soft, like a small brook, you can not distinguish the different voices, but you can feel the general suspense in it....

[Guest]

Another Ball.

And this one better than most. It was curious that, in the waking world, Hector Anzilo, Lord Chancellor of the Empire of the Seven Isles, was customarily seen sleeping and working in the Citadel itself...the palace of the Citadel, a place that so many considered the ultimate seat of power in the known world. They often enough bowed and scraped at his feet, partially due to the position he held for the Caesar, and partially due to his own rather brutal, legendary reputation...the reputation of rage...that seemed to proceed him everywhere he went. But to the Chancellor, the Citadel was nothing but a drafty old fortress, and his office was little more than a great stack of papers. And a broken desk, he reminded himself, smiling at the memory of Sosa crushing his desk with her great sword.

What made this eveningtide...or gravetide? he could not be sure...so very interesting was that on this particular night, he had not slept in the Citadel Palace. He had in fact moved silently into the Burpin Dragon, a very common and almost lowly inn in the heart of the Citadel. The move had meant very little to the Lord Chancellor...he was a very practical, sensible man and he had little difficulty adapting to more rough surroundings...but if there were any moments he should dream about great parties...great Balls of a clearly political undercurrent...it certainly seemed inappropriate from the bed of a rather common travelling inn such as the Dragon.

And yet he was here. And he was fine, presented in a way he could never quite master in his waking life. His coat was buttoned and wrinkle free, his lace billowing and lively, his hat angled and free of lint or scar...and he wore a hat, a social tradition that the waking Hector Anzilo often disregarded in favor of displaying his short, wild, black hair that, without exception, always appeared disheveled and unkept mere flickers after he washed and combed it in the morningtide. His coat was one not quite like anything he truly owned...a lovely affair of silver embroidered over a lighter gray...and his smokey trousers were tipped with black boots that were actually polished to a fine, reflective surface, a situation that he did not routinely enjoy. All told, Hector was presented in a way he would love to always be seen, but had hot enough social skill or tact to properly maintain. In his waking life, Hector was a very sloppy and almost ragged man...and nothing could hide his more severe, almost stern face, the face of a harsh predator.

It was also curious that Hector would dream of some great Ball like this. Considered something of a social risk, the man left hushed rumors and tales of his savage brutality wherever he went, his spiteful, direct words often lacking in tact or subtlety, a reputation he only sought to support and build over the yahren. While he did not consider such Balls to be wastes of time...too many important affairs of state were often enough decided at such things...he was not a common sight among the social elite of the Empire.

Curiously, Hector found himself checking over his presentation one more time. He could feel the sense of anticipation in the air...a sense that affected him as well, giving him to insure his appearance was appropriate and his lace was in place. Something was about to happen, and with the curiosity that he knew both as the temporary Caesar of the Seven Isles as well as a humble, dreaming man in the upper rooms of the Burpin Dragon, he waited, refusing any refreshment as he watched the crowds with keen interest.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Her dress was pink, in soft layers of organza, mixing the different hues as if it was a whisper, and naturally stood out wide to all sides, even more so than in real life, the wooden contraption taking on a life of its own as it swayed softly with her steps, moving throught the crowds and giving semi-apologetic smiles when she bumped into people.

With a careful hand white embroidery had been added to her gown that suggested swirls of energy in a delicate pattern that touched the hems, the neckline, and her cuffs. A a ribbon of the same pink had been woven into her intricate hairdo that gathered up her hair into an impossible height, a full bloom of curls. A scattering of pink diamonds graced her dusky neck.

Rosalie defly circulated through the courtiers that had gathered this eveningtide, softly talking to a few people left and right without saying much at all. She could almost taste the tension in the room. Was it a pleasant apprehension of things to come? Did she sense a certain worry?

[Syrawenn]

Birds glazed over.
Branches stilled.
Chirping turned to instruments.

This was a different kind of forest altogether.

Hands encountered soft fabrics in hues of green and turquois, creating the image of still waters or perhaps a morningsky. A small, agile body was caught in a stiff contraption. Brown hair fell down her lean face in lazy curls, the one blond strand emphasized by a small trickle of unidentified glimmers.

Seagreen eyes grew big as the girl realized she had not grown but somehow managed to stay erect in the most unpractical, high heeled shoes she had ever encountered.

You...have...GOT...to be kidding!

If it had not been for the look on her face -which held the middle between astonishment and anger- Syrawenn might have fitted perfectly in the picture this room represented.

Not again!

She clapped a hand to her mouth before some profanity left it, only to discover she was holding a fan in the exact same colours as her dress.

Oh man! That thing goes first!

One step towards a corner to ditch the fan and the girl changed her mind, missing the shoe entirely and ending up with the most ridiculous waggle in her life.

Shoes go first!

Shuffling back to the relative safety of the wall the youngster tried very hard to ditch the shoes before anyone would notice. Whatever the occasion, she did not plan on breaking her neck just because curtesy demanded it!

[Guest]

Tinally watched the many people passing by not without interest, but still found little amusement in tonights ball. The tension was so thick it could be almost cut with a knife...

Bored with all the same familiar faces she rose from her seat to take a little look around and straighten the wrinkless on her dress. She was wearing light blue and purple tones something not unusual for her, as the colors marked out her perfect pale skin and went in contrast with her dark brown eyes. But she was not wearing a dress... The outfit was something between a wizards short free hoodless robes that reached only down to her knees but combined with a tight corset to outline her tiny waist. She was also waring baggy pants the kind to remind you of the terra incognita and the desert, and gold colored boots that reached half way up to her knees. The material that it was all maid of had a some sort of odd pearl glow effect, and the outfit itself was richly decorated with saphire, diamonds and gold. A large saphire amulet hang around her neck on a long thick golden chain and a sorcerers staff with a saphire on top was in her hand.

Looking around he ball room once more, Tinally ran her fingers through her long golden hair to get it back in place. And at that very moment she came to notice Lo Rosso wearing pink with what seemed to a be a tower of a hair stile of curls on in her hair.

For some reasons the courtiers preferred to step aside as Tinally passed, trying not to get in her way and Tinally easily maid her way through the crowd.

“ Good evening Rosalie. Nice to see you here.” Said Tinally glancing at Lo Rossos friends whom she had be talking with, but ignoring them completely from that point on. Witch the didn’t seem to mind, as they quickly looked down as their eyes meat Tinallys.

“ How long do you think it will take for the atmosphere to erupt? I’me getting a bit tired of waiting, especially not knowing what to expect. Any thoughts on the matter?” Tinallys lifted an eye brow taking a moment to measure the size of her pink dress or rather the skirts. They seemed enormous.

[Guest]

Suddenly she was strolling through an entirely unfamiliar place, not that that was entirely unusual recently. Yet this was different. It was a chamber, like she had never seen before. This was certainly not Taquar, but it was intriguing. L’esuinn strolled about the edge of the dancers, watching them move and wondering at the quietness of the music.

Feeling the swirl of fabric about her ankles, the shy Adhiel looked down to discover that she wore a gown of pale green silk that matched her eyes. The skirts were full, in the western court style, and the bodice was bejewelled with emeralds. Her hair too was styled in the foreign fashion, pilled high upon her head in a mass of pale gold curls, and held in place with emerald-tipped hair pins. Matching emerald earrings dangled from the lobes of her delicately pointed ears. Short puffed sleeves and a deep portrait neckline revealed an abundance of her pale ivory skin. She had never worn, nor even dreamt of owning such a gown before.

The atmosphere of anticipation made her hesitate more than usual to make eye contact with anyone, but L’esuinn was not going to pass up the opportunity to take in the unique sights.

[Barrett]

Barrett moved hesitantly into the hall, dressed in his trademark black. For this occasion the cuffs and neck of his doublet were trimmed with blood-red feathers. A multitude of small crystals had been sewn into the fabric in an intricate pattern. He carried a thin, delicate walking stick topped off with a single crystal ball. A quick look in one of the mirrors gave him reason to start: the skin of his face and neck hung a bit more loosely than he recalled and there were perhaps more wrinkles than were normal for a man in middling years. Most disconcerting was the wig - a great, complex pile of curls dyed red to match the Thothos feathers at his cuffs and throat.

Then the movement of the crowd caught him up. Caught up in a dance for a few brief burns. His movements were graceful but the control came with a throbbing pain in his joints. When opportunity permitted, he glided off of the dancing area... and almost tripped over a young woman who appeared to be struggling with her clothes.

"My dear girl," he addressed Syrawenn, "I am certain that you will find any number of eligible courtiers willing to assist you in disrobing - in a more appropriate place."

[Finley Ward]

An unreal shifting of images, ideas half-thought and half-formed, the confused knowing of dreaming - where everything is strange but everything is familiar, and right, and natural.

And then the images wavered, and parted, and became... more solid. It was a musty feeling, like being dragged through old velvet curtains into a surreal consciousness - Finn shook his head roughly in a vain attempt to clear the haze as it settled, and found himself uncertain.

Where the hell am I...?

He took in the surrounding through narrowed dark eyes, aware that despite the strangeness, the jumbled haze of movement and colour, he felt no sense of rising unease. He felt... itchy...? What...?

To his great surprise, he was... and it was unnerving at best, despite the feeling of complete calm that overwhelmed him... he was dressed in some ludicrous get up befitting some sort of lord. A dark, smoky grey jacket in some rich-smelling material, matching trousers, and lace - itchy lace - at the collar of a pristine white shirt. Shoes so clean and shiny he was surprised they didn't come with some sort of health warning, bouncing the light like they did. And... AND! He ran his fingers tentatively through his usually unruly mop of reddish hair, clean hair! ...and shorter, too... fuck! - I feel like a... a felon trapped in the body of a fop...

He mentally filed all this under "deeply suspicious", and, scratching his neck idly, considered tearing off the damned lace as he took in the rest of the room.

A ball then... and I'm....? what, the victim of some elaborate hoax? ....no. It's a dream Finley, you idiot. You only have yourself to blame.

[Syrawenn]

"Damn, rotten, netherforsaken BUGHEELS!" Syrawenn muttered, the last word a bit harder than she intended while the girl tried to slip out of the leg-breaking shoes.

A voice from the side made her jerk up. "Whoha!" Looking at the older, shiny-clothed man she made a face. "Ehrm...I wasn't gonna undress. I'd be mad to do that in a room full of weirdo's, no offense...unless you happen to carry a spare set of breeches or somethin?" She looked at Barrett imploringly.

"Nah, guess not at a party like this, eh? Don't worry, I won't upset the delicate ladies by taking everything off." She shrugged. "If you'll just help me get rid of these anklebiters, I'll be quite happy."

Finally she kicked one of the shoes loose. It flew unto the dancefloor.

"Woops." the brownhaired girl grinned and happily chatted on. "Come on, help me with the other one before it accidentily knocks off a whig. I ain't caring about eligible or not. I'm just not eligible for these heels. I promise I'll behave after that...unless others make a pain of themselves. Say, are you the organiser of this party?"

Big, grey-green eyes stared at Barrett. "Did I offend you?"

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie turned to face Lady Tinally... only to notice that the woman was wearing breeches, with some wizard's robe, covered in a multitude of glitters that drowned the eyes and made Rosalie want to close hers. What an appaling outfit. No sense of style at all. Surely someone must have told her this is not the appropriate attire for a ball. My Dominicus, what kind of people do you make me work with? Hiding a grimace Rosalie gave Tinally a friendly, warm smile. Perhaps she wants to indicate she's a mage? That would certainly explain her presence in the Western Delegation. It was a thing to ponder.

"Why, milady, I have no clue. I've been circulating around the room to find out what precisely will be the order of the eveningtide. I fear we shall have to wait like everybody else," Rosalie said with an artful shrug. The room was filled with strangers, save for the Lord Chancellor. At first she had not recognized him. He looked so well dressed, so.. neat. Better avoid the Chancellor, Rosalie chided herself, You are in enough trouble as it is.

Rosalie's gaze swept through the room, idely noting that red seemed to be the favorite color among the gentlemen. She rose her glass of champagne to a redhaired lord that carried a look of horror on his face as if he didn't know how fast to find the exit. Perhaps he's as appalled by the dress sense of some as I am.

When she turned back to Tinally she noticed the lady's eyebrow and the glance at her gown. This is what we call fashion in the Mouth, milady, Rosalie thought nastily giving the woman another warm smile "Yes, the waiting is becoming unbearable, I agree. There are so many other things that we both have to do. Perhaps we should both circulate once again, and find the information?" She leaned in closer to Tinally and whispered "Do you see that man over there? It is Lord Chancellor Anzilo, technically in charge of the entire Empire until there is a new Ceasar. Perhaps you should strike up a conversation with the man, while I check out that redheaded lord over there."

With a nod to Tinally Rosalie wandered off, till she found herself in front of Finley. She dropped into a deep curtsy, the pink dress easily covering enough space for several men as it caressed the floor, extending her hand to be kissed. "Milord, forgive me for my forwardness, but I just had to introduce myself," Rosalie breathed in a clear Mouth accent "My name is Rosalie Lo Russo."

[Ashtallion Urdil]

The Sorcerer entered the ballroom, golden eyes sweeping over those already present, some seemed familiar faces, one in particular. Barrett. Thank the Father! A friendly face!, despite exhibiting an air of confidence, the adhiel mage was experiencing turmoil inside. At best he avoided social functions, however this was one he could not, no matter how much he prayed.

Ashtallion wore his dress robe. The upper half was fitted to him, the lower half looser so to allow freedom of movement. A dazzling white, seeming to give off its own radiance, and stiched with patterns of gold and silver threading, sparkling in the light provided. A silver sash held the robes together at his waist. Golden blonde hair fell to his shoulders, straight and smooth, bright eyes taking in every detail. It was clear he was a mage, or at least perhaps a priest, few other men wore a robe to such formal occasions, and Ashtallion enjoyed the cliche of a wizard dressed in robes. Normally the adhiel would be wearing the Pelegrim around his waist, however the sight of a sword at a Ball was not something others would appreciated most likely.

Barrett was talking to a young woman, and so Asht stayed on the fringes of the dancing crowd, wandering aimlessly amongst the strangers, listening to the soft murmerings. Indeed the Hall had an odd feeling about it.

He waited until Barrett saw him before making a move to join the scholar and priest.

[saskia]

OOC: How nice of you to turn up at my little party !
I especially want to welcome Ashtallion, who should know better.....
(remember that nice sorcerer, in the lovely forest ???)



IC:
The music grows louder, a slow, stately waltz. It grows to a crescendo...then...

Silence

All heads turn to the large, golden doors at the far side of the room, the crowd seems to hold its breath, like one single being, eyes star, not daring to flicker. Necks are being stretched, and (oh, horror) an occasional toe is trod on !

After a few heartbeats, the silence (and the breathlessness) becomes uncomfortable. The guest start to shift, fiddle with their things, whisper...


Nothing


Again the music plays the same tune, even louder, as if to attract some extra attention, and again sudden silence...

The scene repeats itself, with even more apprehension.




Suddenly Syrawenn feels hands tugging her sleeves.
"There you are! Why are you in here? Where are your shoes? Come , quick!"
A....she looked again....It really was a...what was it ?
Something, Someone about her size, dressed in fur, no actually having fur was pulling her along. Out of the room, and quickly through a hallway.
Her shoes had made their way into its..paws?..



On the other side of the ball-room, a tall, bearded old men seemed to appear out of nothingness beside Hector. Grabbing him by his arm and pulling him along.
"You know better then to pull stunts like this. You know all your actions will have consequences, don't you?"

And before Hector could do anything he was whisked along the same hallway. Someone pulled his clothes straight, combed his hair and pinched his cheeks.

Then the music played the now familiar tune one more time, the doors opened, they received a gentle push, and...again entered the ballroom.



In the mean time...The Other Guests noticed the tension growing even worse, until...

Finally

The music flared for the last time
The doors opened
A trumpet sounded
And a nice white rabbit in red livery announced

"All bow to the King and Queen"

And, as ordered, all courtiers fell to one knee to salute the gracious royal couple:
King Hector and Queen Syrawenn

[Barrett]

Barrett finally realized just how young the woman really was.
And why should that be so unusual at such an event. Some families do well for themselves by trying for an early match.

Oddly enough, the old man found himself bending to help the girl with her wretched shoe.
Why she's gone and ruined it almost.
After all, one never knew when one might need a favor in return. And she really was a lovely child.

As he bent to assist Syrawenn with her remaining shoe, the entrance music came to a swell.
Have to help her quickly lest we draw too much attention.
He stood up to see... nothing.

The fanfare repeated, also to be followed by nothing.
Well! Honestly, I don't know what to think.

"Here, my dear. Let's solve your little wardrobe crisis..."

A sharp pain caused him to bend lower and shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the young lady was nowhere to be seen. Wondering why anyone would bother playing such a joke on him, Barrett straightened up just in time for the next fanfare and... the punchline.

Recognition. It had been a most cruel joke. Obviously somebody thought he was losing value as an advisor and might be made better use of as a jester.

As he knelt, he found that the rage at being so ridiculed had warmed his joints a bit. They didn't feel quite so frail anymore.

[Ashtallion Urdil]

He had fallen to one knee as everyone else had, though he felt incredibly ackward. Never had the adhiel knelt to anyone save the Ceasar, and there was something in him that railed against the very idea of him, a Battle Sorcerer, commanding powerful forces, had to kneel to another Mortal being. But still, he quietly raged, an unusual trait for the mage and one that was occuring more and more often recently. Looking at the 'King and Queen', he found the face of Queen oddly familiar... and of course, it was the young woman Barrett had been speaking with.

Yet again, confusion reigned.

One question that suddenly came to him, how long did he had to remain on one knee? Not to mention it was uncomfortable, he simply did not know what the appropriate time was, or did he wait until they had all been acknowledged by their Majesties. This evening need not be tedious, I can make it interesting for myself I suppose. Perhaps Barrett will make the event more intellectually inspiring....., he sighed mentally before once again glancing to the 'Royal Couple'.

[Gwayne of Vendeling]

Confusion galore, Gwayne thought that he was in a forest. Or not ?

He realised that this should be one of those odd dreams. But the surroundings where like he had never seen before. It scared the adhiel, he felt .............. strangely out of place. Sweat started to flow freely on his back.

He started to imagine thinks he thought, there where people here ...... and he even heard the voice of Syrawenn.... complaining about something it seemed.

If this was a test of the Goddess, it was surely a strange one. He took a deep breath and waited......time would tell, as always.

Still in the back of his mind he was planning a escape route, he could just not imagine one.

[Syrawenn]

"Ooooh, thank you so much!" She almost squealed in delight as her foot popped out of the imprisoning shoe. The other followed shortly and the girl was about to hug Barrett fiercely for his help when she was rudely interrupted by....something furry?

"Wha? Quick? Huh? Where?" Came the unintelligable reply while the youngster was hurried along by the hand. The hallway was completely unknown to her, as was the furry creature pulling her along. At least the shoes were off, or she would not even have been able to move as fast as they did.

"Where are you taking me? What's going on?" She insisted, too baffled to really object to the tugging, yet the next she knew the tug turned into a push, straight into the ballroom again.

Trumpets sounded, people were announced and just when the girl thought it could not get any weird, the names registered.

King Hector and Queen Syrawenn!

"SCUSE ME?" Syrawenn turned around to find the guilty furball, but found only kneeling people and an unknown consort, which did little to comfort the dumbfounded girl.

Here she was, the center of attention, appearantly married to a complete stranger...barefoot.

Oh boy. This is not real. This can't be real.

She looked over the crowd, desperately seeking familiar faces, but the adrenalin kept her from taking a close look. Instead the girl turned back to the stranger next to him.

A man.
An unknown man.
Married.
Her man?

Syrawenn surpressed a gag-reflex and poked Hector. "Hey, you're playing the king, do something!"

[Finley Ward]

The girl raising a glass in your direction, Finley, pay attention... He stopped pulling at the scratchy lace long enough to acknowledge her with a curt nod, trying to rearrange his expression to show something other than grim distaste. Of course, his eyes took her in her form in a sweeping glance - what incredible hair... and all that pink.... not bad looker, though, for a.... nnngh. She's coming over.

He hid his initial reaction - which was mainly mild irritation at this incredible charade - mentally took a deep breath and reassured himself, ...it's a game, it's just a game like the others you play... except this time you didn't have time for mental preparation. And there's no mark...., and managed a strained smile as she dropped into a deep curtsy, her great pink skirts sweeping the floor in a way that would make chambermaids everywhere stifle laughter, if the floor had actually been anything other than spotless. The proffered hand made him hesitate for perhaps a moment too long, and then he focussed sharply, fuck it, took it, kissed it gently and offered his most charming smile.

"You just had to introduce yourself...? Might I say the pleasure is all mine, Madam Lo Russo?" He inclined his head at a respectful angle, and added by way of introduction, "Edwin Montague..."

And might have continued, had the music not suddenly swelled to a crescendo, and a hush fallen upon the crowd. Finley paused, aware of the tension in the crowd, and as it broke and silence became muttering, he murmured softly to the lady beside him, "Any idea what the occasion is...? I wasn't expecting..." The music interrupted him again and he fell silent, the ebb and flow of sound and tension uncomfortable enough to keep his silence and attention for moments more.

And a white rabbit in red livery appeared. Finn started, his expression bewildered, and then, reassuring himself that it was a dream - that these things happened - he regained his composure and found himself falling to one knee in salute. Much to his displeasure.

...curiouser and curiouser...

[Rosalie Marcada]

"Enchante, signor Montague" Rosalie said in her low sultry voice that had been an accident of youth, slowly withdrawing her gloved hand and wondering why he hesitated for just a flicker too long. His accent sounded imperial and yet the name was vaguely western. She looked up with her amber eyes inspecting his bright red hair. Not very western that, and it did indeed clash horribly with her pink hazy dream. Yet, you know the essentials of etiquette. Can't be an Imperial savage then, can you? she thought approvingly.

Just rising out of the curtsy to find out more about this intriguing lord, Rosalie found herself down to the floor again as the King and the Queen were announced, her wide organza gown washing into "Edwin Montague". When she saw who the couple was she gasped, and thus missed all the rabits and other animals that attended to the party. Hector Anzilo.. the king? When pigs can fly!

[Guest]

The musical fanfare captured her attention, and L’esuinn, like the other guests, turned toward the great doors. Then nothing happened.

Once more the musical cue and once more nothing. This was a truly odd place.

Finally, the third flourish of notes, and this time something did happen. L’esuinn knelt with the other guests, as if compelled to do so by some unseen force. A royal pair entered; both unknown to the Elfess. Yet it was the white rabbit in livery that caught her interest.

A white rabbit as an Herald? What manner of place was this?

[Guest]

King?!?

Hector Anzilo bit his lip as all eyes turned to confusion. He was pretty accustomed to attention, of course...he often drew stares when he went out...but this was different. These people had no idea who he was, and they didn't respect him as the Pitbull of the Citadel.

And there's a Queen?

"Ah...." Hector's voice was very accustomed to command. He routinely addressed the Advisory Council, which was not unlike commanding the attentions of a room full of six yahren olds. And now he found himself in a room full of perfect strangers...that he ruled...with a Queen...to whom he was married...and alot of eyes upon them both, if indeed they were recognized...and it would have been very strange if he would not have been recognized by anyone from the Empire of the Seven Isles.

Sadly, Hector didn't know who the queen was...until her SCUSE ME? reached his ears. And there she was...lovely! But didn't I see her struggling with her shoes? smirked Hector, staring over at her and trying to appear disinterested and casual. He wasn't...Hector was easily more intimidated by the presence of that one, enigmatic Queen than any hundred unknown courtiers...but he tried to appear as such anyway.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" began Hector, his voice something that might reach the far corners of the ballroom....and perhaps well beyond it. Glancing once at the furry herald, Anzilo smiled and continued. "Please be welcome as...Royal Guests. Musicians!" he ordered, to fill the hall with ballroom sound that might fill in the blank silences that riddled conversation in this rather diverse and clearly surprised crowd.

[Alexandrya L`handriel]

Alexandrya could hardly contain the glee from seeing the white rabbit in red livery make an announcement. She started to make her way quickly to where the rabbit was but was made to bow before some king and queen she did not even know. She tried to stand up and go after the rabbit once again, Come here sir rabbit. How soft you look... She thought to herself.

She did not even realise what she was wearing. She was wrapped in a delicate dress that looked to be woven together by a spider as the "webbing" hugged each curve scandalously. Skin shone through with the netting and the dress looked nothing like what existed in this world but only in a play or someone's wild imagination. Her hair was down around her shoulders in riotous silvery-white curls interwoven with tiny twinkling jewels that looked to be similar to morning dew. A black cloak upon her shoulders as if to give her warmth but it seemed to finish this interesting little costume as it also sparkled with tiny crystals that caught the light like a starry night. Her outfit had a very sharp contrast. Black and white. She shucked all formalites as she took her silken white gloves off to catch the rabbit. She really doubted that she knew anyone and did not bother to mingle just yet, her goal to catch that rabbit. What do rabbits like?

[Gavin Tylvan]

OOC: I just have to be in this one after such a start. Hope you don't mind.

IC:
Once more Gavin found himself in an unfamiliar position. He did not know where he was a moment before, but now he was kneeling as the herald announced King and Queen.

His head shot up as he heard the Queen's name and quickly came back once more. His hand came to his mouth quickly trying to stifle a giggle. Then the King spoke and Gavin straightened himself with once again impassive face.

Unlike most men around he wore clothes of a different style. Dark blue velvet breeches paired with pure white hoses and perfect shoes. It felt a bit awkward without the boots, but he wore shoes before.

Silk tunic with long puffed up sleeves adorned his chest. It was emerald green and sleeves were embroidered with silver thread in swirling pattern that ran along the length of his arm. What distinguished him was a tabard he wore. It was black and upon it embroidered in silver and gold was the symbol of Duke of Dort. A thin line of semi-precious stones ran about a hand width away around the edge. The tabard was held in place with a polished black belt held in place by a silver clasp.

As he stood up, his eyes searched the room, but went back to the 'Queen' every so often. There were several guest that seemed vaguely familiar, but only Syrawenn he knew for sure. Still, he decided to move through the crowd a bit and see if someone recognized him. He was never at a ball, and it would be better to play it safe.

[Syrawenn]

With a surprised smile the girl looked at Hector sideways. The man actually knew how to address a crowd! Suddenly the situation was looking up again. Another poke in the man's side and she whispered: "Nicely done! If I didn't know any better, I'd think this was real...which it isn't, right? I mean...we aren't really married, are we?"

There was something hopeful about her tone of voice while the restless eyes searched the crowd for any signs of what was going on. One head jerked up, grinning eyes meeting hers.

What the...Gavin! Almost Syrawenn jumped into the crowd to hug the big man she KNEW she had met before. It just wasn't entirely clear when and why.

"Of course this is totally nuts...standing here without shoes on a ball that's supposed to be mine...what's the occasion, you reckon? Heyyyy hold on! It's my ball!"

A mischievous glint entered Syrawenn's eyes as she looked from her bare feet to the crowd and back.

Oh yeah...whoever is behind this, is in for a surprise.

She scraped her throat in a way she expected an older, royal person to do to ask for attention: "Before you go dancing and being merry...I have decided that tonight's ball will be barefoot!"

Wiggling her toes from under the hugely inefficient dress the girl waited for reactions, surveying the crowd with amused eyes. Were they going to follow the new rules or were they going to choose a new queen? Either way this might be fun.

"Psst, furry, I wanna speak to that guy over there." She pointed at Gavin. "Could you get him here for me?" Her voice almost trembled with surpressed giggles. Such coincidence to meet a familiar face here! What fun they could have, knowing this all to be utter nonsense!

Contrary to what the girl had always heard about kings and queens, she atually was amused!

[Ashtallion Urdil]

Apparently, the 'Queen' herself was just as confused as the guests were. The adhiel supressed a smile, one which faded anyway as she annouced it was her desire for everyone to be barefoot. I will do no such thing!, he waited at any rate to see whether or not the other guests would follow suit.

The white rabbit intrigued him greatly, in a most comical way rather than a studious one. However it was just one more thing adding to the sheer..... aburdness and confusion of the evening. If anything it would prove interesting, and something he was not likely to forget, unfortunately. Rising, Asht looked around once more for Barrett, the priest was the closest thing to reality for the mage, and he needed a return to reason. Spotting the man, Ashtallion meandered his way over, hoping not to appear rude or interupting anything.

" Barrett, a pleasure to see you again, and I must admit a welcomed relief. ", he smiled openly, glancing once more to the Royal persons.

[Finley Ward]

Finn listened the 'King' and 'Queen' speak with little enthusiasm, still wondering idly what the hell he was doing here, and if there were any possible profits could be drawn from the situation. No necessarily monetary, of course... But if this is just a dream, it's bloody irrelevant what I do here. - there's nothing to be gained from it. Buut... if it doesn't matter what I do... that could be... liberating... And for the first time a genuine smile crossed his face - he looked sideways at Rosalie in a contemplative way, as if sizing her up, but was interrupted in his thoughts by the Queen herself - insisting rather breathlessly that everyone go barefoot.

Barefoot? uhhh.... oh-kay.... Finn didn't register surprise, but simply stepped on the heel of one of his overly shiny shoes, kicking it off. The other quickly followed suit, and he flexed his toes, enjoying the feeling of air between them, and shoved his fists into his jacket pockets casually. Another sideways glance at Rosalie, a slightly amused smirk on his face,
"Could I offer you a hand, Madam Lo Russo? ...with your shoes, I mean...?" And then held out an arm for her to lean on, should she so desire.