"My dear, sweet divine Jacqueline, as I live and breathe !! " his expression melts from worry to a spellbinding fascination. her twirling, the serious dance moves and her dress were all, absolutely to die for. "Your dress is drop dreadfully gorgeous. How on earth were you able to possess such a--" he was about to ask her where the frock had come from, but then he is surprised once more to hear that she's captured the heart of a very fortunate gentlemen. he clasps his hands in delight, a smile brimming from ear to ear. how magnanimously merry he would be to meet the boyfriend of his own beautiful daughter. "I'm not surprised Jean doesn't like him," he leans in as if he's exchanging a very important piece of gossip. "Jean doesn't like anyone aside from your mother !!" and that reminds him, " Oh Jacqueline I wish your mother could see you now. You look just like her, twins, I swear it !! A pair of beautiful venus fly traps ready to ensnare the hearts of this wonderful dance. You make us so very proud !! " he pulls his darling into a strong embrace, and polishes his affection with a kiss upon her cheek. "I'd die to meet your new gentlemen caller. Please, tell me he'll have a dance with us !!! "

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭. // closed event starter for @axdently

⸻ Jacqueline Asinastra swayed to the bewitching rhythm of the masquerade ball, her laughter bubbling with a carefree joy she rarely wore. The enchanted food had cast its spell, and she, like everyone else in the grand hall, was caught in it's euphoric embrace. Her once heavy heart felt light, and the horrors of the past weeks seemed like distance memories on their way out the door.

Amid the glittering masks and swirling gowns, she spotted her father, Jack, standing across the room. Without a second thought, she broke into an exuberant dance, performing the dougie with a flair that drew the attention of those around her. With a wide, radiant smile, she pulled her father into an enthusiastic hug (did one of his bones just pop out), twirling around before asking, "Dad, do you like my dress?"

Her giggles were infectious as she leaned in, placing a playful finger over her lips. "My new boyfriend got it for me, shhhhhhhhh-" she whispered conspiratorially, her voice mischievous. "Jean doesn't like him, but I don't care what he thinks, and I think you will." Her behavior was a stark departure from her usual self, but tonight, she was lost in the enchantment of the ball.

she is beside herself. lady seraphim's cheeks hadn't blushed this shade of pink in quite some time. she could blame it on the lack of breath in her lungs. this is, of course, due to the incessant giggles that continue to spill from her mouth. her dance partner is amusing. honesty, as if she'd taken a saline dripping potion of truth, comes fourth in a curt answer first, "I suppose..." as her voice trails off she begins to see tiny stars floating above her head. after the spin she comes face to face with Dominique, and unbridled sentences of candor resume. "I don't know." another hauntingly melodic slew of giggles float between them upon her baited breath. "We'll never know, since no one ever tells me no." it is very likely that Seraphim would have broken down in a tantrum, stomping her feet, cursing the other woman, and crying. the triple crown of meltdowns would be bet upon by those who know her, in fact.

A wicked smile crept up her lips, almost a moment too late at the sight of a bright pink bloom over those cheeks. It felt like Domi was being witness to something forbidden. Sinful, even, as the usual pale features that would only change color when they were the crimson hue of feral anger. The image of Lady Seraphim, grin wide, voice eager, begging to dance with her, or she'll die. Domi kept repeating the scene in her head, fearful that if she didn't, she wouldn't remember it for centuries on end after this. And it was imperative that she did. She hummed, amused, pressing her dance partner closer to her, their bodies precariously close in proximity, though not yet improperly so.

"You're clearly beside yourself. You wouldn't know the difference between begging and giving and ultimatum. Tell me. What would you have done if I said no? Pout? Scream? Would you have said please?" Her voice was low, just enough so that she would be the only one hearing her, a volume learned after decades of experience in ball rooms amongst the gossiping noble cattle of onlookers. "It's also rude to try and silence your dance partner." She obliged, however, stepping back to give Sif some space before gently holding her hand and pulling it above her head to spin her as requested.

repeating the full order with a nod, he smiles. then after paying the cashier dollar phils for his purchase, he places the change ( a spare couple of coins and two dollars ) into the tip jar. watching, he carefully makes sure that the slice of carrot cake is with his other items. he then turns and smiles with a matter-of-fact air in his stance, "Children, one for each of them if they finish their dinner without bickering. I suspect their other father is planning a nice pot of soup..." he could busy the other, talk her ear off, about the happy family he's finally settled into, but he doesn't wish to be rude. he spends short time fishing the paperbag housing the carrot cake, and then extends the dessert to his new acquaintance. "Thank you for your service, by the way. I know a slice of carrot cake isn't much, but perhaps it'll make your day a little better? "

A moment of fluster passes the brunette's face. Her anger melting into slack-jawed disbelief if only for a second before her jaw tightens back up. The sudden kindness is not lost on her despite the appearance she puts up. There have always been few moments of generosity in the world she has lived in, except for when it came to her former partner.

Judas needn't look at the menu he obscures from vision before answering, "just a slice of carrot cake." A gruff nod at the stranger who offered to paid. It is the only form of thanks she seems able to muster amid sunken and judgemental eyes. However, it is laughable how her frustration has slipped into an uncomfortable stillness.

"What do you need cake pops for?" Judgement lingers in her voice as she tries to ponder up an image of why anyone would purchase spherical sugar, as though she was not doing something similar.

"Huh." he answers almost immediately, turning in the direction of the voice. Skeeter is used to being shouted at and bossed around by individuals shorter than him. given his goofy stature and basketball muscles ( which have long since grown a bit flaccid due to the lack of practice on the court ) you'd figure he had enough brawn and bravery to defend himself. truth be told the giant oaf rather likes being told what to do. a nod bounces his chin up and down one time, and then he screws the top cap of the lemony limey mountain brew ( dew to humans ) and awaits for more directions. "Well... go on then." he shrugs. black bags sag under his eyes, and his mouth hangs slightly agape, "Can't tell you where you need to go without you telling me the place you're supposed to be." he chuckles to himself, "How the hell am I supposed to know where you work?"

open start for: @cagliostrostart

— location: middle of the street

No matter how long liv stared at that map, things didn't make sense. She kept a face like "Who the hell still reads maps, WHY a map?" Well, maybe living in a big city had those things, It hadn't been long since she'd moved from her small, snow-covered town and now she was having to deal with confusing streets and huge neighborhoods, perhaps the address of her future work, the music store, would fall from the sky?

She waited patiently for a pleasant-looking soul to pass by so she could start a conversation and bingo. "YOU! You look like someone who lives here, can you help me? I need to get to my future job and I don't know the address. I mean, I know, but I don't know how to get there and I don't want to be fired without even having started and I don't want to read a map. Will you help me or not? Please?"

warmth. that's what he feels when she's by his side. it's not overbearing and it doesn't outshine. it's not the kind of warmth that burns when he's too close. it's just right. it calms his nerves, and makes him feel secure, and it makes him want to be that security- that which he'd always aimed for even before he became a retired homicide detective. though she has a power charm and magnetism of her own, he only wishes to preserve it and let it grow, because the world deserves her warmth. he can only but smile at her words. he's so lucky to have her and verbal sentiments fail at expressing so. so instead his eyes linger softly as they bear into hers. perhaps in their own language she knows...

nodding at her reminders he lays trust within her. "It's just so hard to know that I'm finally in the same room as her. It feels like it's been ages since I've seen her." he takes a forlorn sigh. "I hope cleaning myself up is enough to impress her." a soft chuckle emits from his tight lined lips. "That's easy for you to say." he speaks with honesty, "This is all your design, you know." he explains, "I must give credit where credit is due." eyes would be remiss if they hadn't scanned the dress of a forest spirit of his dreams. her attire had left him speechless the moment she fluttered into his doorway. "You clean up well, too mi querida."

⸻ Lenora's warm smile met Benny's gaze as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "First things first," she said, her tone affections, "your tie looks much better now. Second of all, you aren't hopeless, you just needed a little guidance, and that's why I'm here."

As the other attendants moved through the dazzling ballroom, Lenora stayed close beside Benny. She knew that neither of them were particularly comfortable in such bustling settings. Some might call them recluses, but they both found solace in the quiet of their homes and the embrace of nature. Still, Lenora was thankful to be there beside Benny, offering support not just for him, but for Elia as well. In a way, Elia felt like a daughter of her own.

Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, Lenora spoke softly, "You just have to trust her, e ipo. You know she loves you more than anyone else in the world, even more than herself. When the time is right, you just have to trust that she'll come to you." In an effort to lighten to mood, she added, "And, you know, I think what's going to impress her the most will be seeing you in something other than your usual flannel. You clean up well, Mr. Barraza."

she didn't see it at first! she is quick to blame it on her pregnancy brain. leaning over to duck under the table takes all of her might, but she steadies herself on her knees for a moment, and gives up soon after. much to her doctor's circumspection, she doesn't push too far in her searching but thankfully the young man finally procures the creature. she cheers him on, an uproarious applause given freely. "You've wrestled that thing to it's wits!" she takes a cautious step forward, "Now how do we make sure it doesn't cause any more ruckus? Hm? We can't have this little guy go freely !"

There was a soft thump under the table as Tristan very unsurprisingly hit his head, though he didn't exactly feel much, as his blood alcohol level did that funny little thing where pain would become but a distant relative to his brain. Which was, coincidentally, also how he got most of his tattoos done back in his early-twenties. Those were a wild couple of years, for sure. He needed a moment to crawl out from under the table, getting stuck in the tablecloth and pulling it along with him, the clatter of the plates and glasses atop it making him stop and have to recalculate his next moves, but eventually, he was free, taking a deep breath of the stale air of the ball room. The dialect of the woman brought him right back to Kardia, and a happy, dumb little smile stretched over his lips right away. "It's a mirage element. Harder to catch than a greased-up porxie at the Kardian village fair!"

words have never cut so deeply and Pax doesn't believe they ever will. insulting him is one thing, but when the gods are involved, that's when his resolve breaks. there is a slash in his face where his broken smile once was, and now his expression is of nothing but disdain. saddened, helpless disdain. the candor of which the other speaks is appalling, and Pax could act with paltry and turn the other cheek, but instead of his better judgement he fights back. or tries to. "You are a demon." is all that his voice gives flight. he chews and gnaws his teeth until they feel as if gums begin to bleed, but words do not save him. he is no hero and he can't, despite how much he wishes to, fight back. "I suppose it takes a cruel one to know cruelty. True cruelty is speaking blasphemy in such a wide open space. How can you stand there with honor and utter those words?"

the Divine Goddess wasn't his own face of worship, but he'd rather stand in the fire and take those lashings for her. but a martyr means nothing to a non-believer. "All Gods and Goddesses work in mysterious ways, and I'd never fall prey to your manipulations and cold words."

his demeanor shakes, and his core vibrates as his breathing hitches in his chest. "You're wrong. Our Goddess is not cruel, she is merciful, and loving and wise, and holds our lives in her hands and anoints us with grace daily. She doesn't abandon ! Her love is vast, but you close yourself off with these cruelties."

“Then you have nothing," he said. Alvie laughed in the man's face. Like the pious rows of bowed heads at the shrine, faith itself revolted him. He believed it nothing more than a prettier word for trained helplessness. The sight of this sweet, meek man who looked greener about the gils by the very second did little to sway his opinion otherwise.

"Me? I wouldn’t have groveled at the feet of some absent deity,” he said. The Cursed Blood looks into his chalice, with the air of dismissal someone inspecting their nails mid-conversation tend to do. “Where is your goddess, hm? Where is she for the men turned to stone in Orre? For some Port Alvarnan mother whose baby dissolves into seafoam tonight? Where is she, my dear?” 

Where was your goddess when I still had a heart? Why hadn’t she saved the starry-eyed me who believed such miracles were possible? These were the real questions he wanted answers to. If she were so indifferent to the passage of time and had not realized her blessing came when he was a husk of his former self, then she were incompetent. If it had been on purpose, to hear his silent screams for three hundred years, then she was a crueler mistress than The Boundary.

"Your goddess is cruel," he says. Alvie cocks his head, and when he smiles again he's sure to show his fangs.

"She has abandoned you, left you to the wolves."

Kyle Todd was about to stand there and continue to argue with Danny about how bunnies live in holes in the ground instead of on the ground, and technically some live in cages too. he was about to open his mouth and continue to blame the ordeal on the one in the chandelier, because no one just blinks and then teleports feet above the ground. no, danny had traveled up there with his drunken ass and it was his fault and it was his own problem-- finding a way down, but down down down down came Danny, and Todd's drink goes splashing about. the horse shade isn't great with magic, and he sure isn't built with muscles. he closes his eyes, which is very counterproductive given the ask hollered down at him. Todd squeezes on the rabbit's paw key chain on his belt loops, and holds out his arms. except-- he doesn't catch.

the first thing he feels upon him is a splattering of his diet pepsi vodka, then it's the crash. two boys litter the floor, and a chandelier above squeaks... "Ow..." Kyle rubs his head. "Fuck." he lays there hurt all over. "That went well..." ( it didn't )

"Bunnies live on Earth, ain't they?!" It was like all the contents of his belly sucked themselves back into their original place and the dizziness was replaced by his pure, undeniable aggressive defensiveness. Just as it was meant to be! Alright, so maybe the clothes he chose for the night weren't exactly on theme, nor did he even have a mask on, but when did being wrong ever stopped him from doing something? "What d'ya mean how? I blinked! Oh." Maybe he should just blink right back down. He didn't think about that. He closed his eyes, cheeks puffed out as he concentrated really hard, the alcohol in his system making it harder to use his powers. Which is how he ended up a few feet in the air above Kyle.

"Ah! Catch me!" Came a high-pitched yelp out of him before he started falling rapidly.

"JOSIE, WHY ARE YOU ARGUING WITH ME WHEN I'M HAVING A MELTDOWN." she is sweating from the brow, tiny beads of perspiration take their time dripping. she feels like she's gotten her hands on an edible, and a bad one from the clamoring in her guts. or maybe there was a dairy byproduct she'd swallowed. THINK QUICK ARE EGGS DAIRY? she grips the tablecloth in a clenched fist. "I'M NOT. I haven't taken anything !" she feels the room lurch in a half spin, and then it lurches the complete opposite direction. then again, "Oh JOSIE WHAT IF I AM HIGH?!?!" her squawking continues, like a disgruntled pelican. "This is going to be so embarrassing for us !"

and then she sees it, one of those RATS shimmering. the mirage skits into view, and then vanishes again. "Don't you dare GASLIGHT ME ! I know you saw that little piece of shit!" she looks to her left, and scans for a sleek and well maintained sharp bobcut. "MIN. GET YOUR GUN."

She holds back a scathing scold as she eyes Charlotte down her drink in one, taking a deep breath and counting to five in her head. Her annoyed expression snaps back into position when her eyes flick open and she turns them back to that eldest Alimjan, a little affronted at the review of her intended outfit. "It's vintage embroidered Kardace silk" she sniffed dismissively, her pride taking a hit "it would have fit the theme perfectly with my mask and shoes. If anything i'd say this horrific dress fits it less." Her eyes move along Charlottes figure as she speaks of her discomforts, brow contorting into an expression of mixed disgust and aghast. She leans in closer and grabs her sisters arm roughly "Charlotte, are you seriously high?" she scoffs and rolls her eyes in disbelief "you couldn't just take one night off? The whole of the city is watching closely tonight!" The lawyer takes her hand off the others arm and moves a curt step away, still speaking in harsh, hushed tones "if you do something stupid tonight, I don't think i'll be able to get you out of it, like I have on previous occasions." The implication cuts deep, and her annoyed gaze lingers for a few moments before she looks away, too disappointed to keep it on her sibling.

the French accent grates in her ears-- the Head of House Fraser deplores the French, and the de Sables are of no exception. she finds their mannerisms rude, insulting to the tightly wound pristine doll she was meant to be. French accents alone were hard to understand, and the French typically knew nothing of loyalty. but Lady Seraphim, with a stiff posture, elects to not pay too much mind to it. to Domi's touch she is coerced into relaxation, and falls into the steps of a beautiful waltz- her following where the other is leading. and for some unfathomable reason, she's found herself in the most joyous and elated mood, cheeks flush a roaring pink hue as a giggle slips through her lips. "Beg?" she shakes her head slowly. "Don't be incredulous. That wasn't begging." she takes a moment to think about her rephrasing. "It was an ultimatum, and you fell for it."

there isn't a moment in her thirty two years of living that she remembers the light feeling at the heels of her feet, nor can she pull her head out of its twisting and turning and yearning for more dancing. she doesn't know what is forcing this lapse in judgement and allowing the other to pull her towards the dance floor, but she speaks "Hush," it was meant for her racing mind too. "It's rude to call your dance partner odd. Let me have my fun, and spin me."

The piece of meringue in Dominique's hand fell back on the plate, along with a grimace of disgust behind her mask. How mortals enjoyed playing with their food, dressing them up and making them look pretty was eerily similar to her family's own choice of entertainment before they would feast. Though, she rather disliked how some of her family members would relish in their dinner running away from them. Domi herself would decide against all that hard work. A quiet evening and a glass full of her favorite crimson colored snack sounded much more appetizing than a sweaty, crying, noisy victim.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she'd barely even noticed a particular set of eyes on her. To be fair, she was used to being ogled like some beast outside of its cage. The wide grin of the head of house Fraser is most unexpected, however. As is the sudden forwardness of asking her to dance. Nevertheless Domi takes the opportunity to squash her boredom, and her arm swings around Lady Sif's waist with the ease of centuries of etiquette behind her, while her other hand takes her newfound dance partner's own, pulling her away into a casual waltz.

"I will do as I please." She replies, her eyes behind her mask studying the other woman's unusual smile. "Out of all the people here, you elected to beg for a dance with me? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were making advances toward me. But I do. And you're acting... odd."

he can't help but correct, "They're four feet, cargos. Gabs. Four." he holds up four fingers. "And don't tell me to go fuck myself. Chill." his hand flies to the knees of his cargos that are littering the floor and mopping dust bunnies from their corners of leg chairs and lion footed tables. he hikes them up, so that he doesn't trip again. he couldn't go on making himself look like a fool again. "Be nice." he says with his nostrils flared.

she's on the run once more-- and this time he thinks he's going to let her go. he weighs the options, before scanning the table for one of those cream cheese pastries. he shovels two at a time in his mouth, and chews angrily. she was right. they are fucking good. the anger in his eyes suppresses momentarily as the eyes roll to the back of his head. "I DO LIKE THEM." he shouts after her. "SO THERE." plucking up two more, he continues to chew with his mouth full.

Dark eyes take in the food on the table, the plate in her hand being filled with little morsels as she plucks them from their piles and places them delicately onto their receptacle. A few items she puts directly into her mouth and chews down immediately, still ignoring her boyfriend until he physically grabs hold of her and spins her round to face him. The fact he can't understand the reason for her anger, only causes it to flare up more viciously, his clueless puppy dog eyes as he begs for her forgiveness. "So, you ignore every nice thing I've done for you today" she begins, an accusatory finger poking into his chest sharply "you avoid the outfit I send you so you don't make a fucking fool out of yourself at this, quite frankly, high profile event and you take every single fucking step to make yourself- and by extension me, the laughing stock of the most pivotal event in the entirety of my fucking life." she scoffs and her hand balls into a fist, curling back to rest at her own chest "I tried so hard to make this go smoothly, to make sure we'd have a good night, and you decide to throw it all out to turn up in 3 foot long cargos? Go fuck yourself Skeet." She turns on her heel and storms away a few steps before pausing and looking over her shoulder at him "by the way- the little cream cheese pastries are really fucking nice and I know you'd like them a lot." With that she sticks her nose in the air and strides off away from him to clear her head and eat her plate of food in peace.

her voice vibrates against his chest to match the beating of his heart. "Ma Chérie, Mon Cœur !!! " he holds her close even still- hands in hands as he beams at the shining star of his life. "No, no, my love. You're a marvel of nature, and your mere presence is a work of art that would paint the ceilings and hallways of the highest cathedral !! " he plants a kiss against the knuckles of her hands, so cold and so delicate as they clasp onto his for dear life. "How could I enjoy myself while you're away? It is torture, absolute torture to be without you." he laments with a soft sigh, "I could never enjoy a grand ball without my forever dance partner. Will you sway with me in the moonlight? My bones crave it so ! " hopefully this time, they'd all stay intact ! "I promise the children are behaving and the spiderlings love to watch our love grow," though he's unsure if those millions of little eyes are still watching their mother and father in their rendezvous. "You are not trembling in fear, are you? You know my love with protect you against the wrath of evil should it be near."

Her children and her beloved had tried to convince the elusive lady of spiders out of her sanctuary in the Wildwoods, promising her the night of a thousand joys at that masquerade ball. However, Myrad Asinastra was at her heart- a recluse, the thought of hundreds of people sharing such a small space with her was enough to send her into a spiral. She assures her son that she no longer suffers from such anxieties, that the memories of that pitchfork wielding mob are in the distant past, but it's all a carefully weaved lie. She recalls how her heart pounded so hard she feared it would tear from her chest as she'd darted from shadow to shadow in the busy streets of the city to be by his bedside when he had taken ill, how the crowds had made her head spin, how she'd felt like her legs would crumble beneath her any second. She knew that attending such an event, would likely be the end of her. The shade had been quietly weaving, a beam of moonlight illuminating the room from above as the manipulated the spidersilk with deft fingers, creating a delicate handkerchief as a gift for a dear friend when her spiderlings had emerged, chattering excitedly and tugging at her clothes, her hair, some even tapping at the porcelain of her skin in their haste to get her to follow them. Astra lays down her project and climbs out of the window to follow along after them, their enthusiastic whispers bringing a smile to her lips. She's a little apprehensive when they get to the border of the city, but the spiderlings seem to carry her with them and she continues before she sees him shining in the night before her. She closes the space between them with light steps, allowing herself to be enveloped in those outspread arms. "Mon amour" she sighs contentedly into his chest "I don't theenk I am quite dressed for ze occasion" she takes a step back, hands drifting down his arms til they interlock with his own "'av you been enjoying yourself?"

@ofthcshvdes //  before you left your spores ( 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟎𝟎𝟐 )

"Thankfully they aren't lickshrooms." he says this because lickshrooms are known for their toxic saliva that can terminally paralyze others. instead he senses a dance fever- a hallucinogenic spiking of the food. hopefully it wouldn't be the case of spreading disease, otherwise he'd be subjected to working after hours. he continues to grab specimens, a gloved hand intrudes the formal wear he'd shown up in. and in the magical disappearing briefcase he has, he continues to set those samples of cakes and tarts. only after shutting the case closed, Han Jae Song, fixes the glasses at his nose, and he peers into his champagne. "I wouldn't eat anything, if I were you, but the drinks are very pleasant" he's looking after Val, his almost husbands, well, he didn't quite know how to put it- his rival, his coworker, his friend. "But now that you've provided lookout for me, I'm at your service. I suspect there is a valuable piece of treasure we are to find in these hallways?" he gives her a mischievous smirk.

it takes him a while to register what has happened to him. eyes grow wide and a "Gabs don't--" turns into the most graceful fall he'd ever had the luxury of having. he stares at the ceiling mid-slip and their time together flashes before his eyes. a blurred supercut of every kiss, every embrace, every argument and break up turned make up warms his heart. he doesn't have time to process that he was no longer on cloud nine. "Wait. Where are you--?" he's a mess on the floor, and he slips over his long cargo pants ( and over-shot thought again ) before chasing after her. "WILL YOU JUST LISTEN PLEASE?"

pulling at her shoulder he begs for a face to face conversation. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do whatever pissed you off." he clings to those memories from before. he wishes they had more of those good times, but he wonders if it's all his fault? is he destined to fuck up forever? not if he can help it"I just wanna... like you know? Be with you." he takes a pause. "The stilts were too much, weren't they?" he irritatingly scoffs at himself. "I should have known that your ma would be here. I bet she thinks I look so stupid."

There's an irritated glance of disbelief up at him as he requests her assistance getting down, she's torn between telling him to fuck off, ignoring him or simply throwing her champagne glass at his face. There's another glance at that glass plucked neatly from the loop of fabric and her expression turns horrified, eyes locking on the visage of her mother across the room who's dressed in vibrant red and chatting with some dignitaries and hasn't noticed their exchange yet. "No" she replies, venom in her voice as she glares up at him "I wson't give you a hand." She steps round him and takes a sip of her champagne, glancing down at the disgusting pants he'd decided to wear. "I'll give you a foot though" there's a viciously sweet smile directed up at him before she swipes her leg out at the stilt closest to her, dragging it back with a little help from her magic and toppling him forwards, down onto that champagne tower. There's no satisfying crash of glass, no wave of spilt champagne, it's as though the organisers have thought of everything. It's like Skeeter lands on a pillow soft blow up imitation of glasses, he almost bounces off them and glides down to the floor almost gracefully. She scowls once more and turns to stomp off towards the buffet, eager to ignore him for the rest of the night.

she'd gotten into some cream puffs, and that was the end of it. after the young man with the stilts had effectively ruined her own "CARRIE WHITE" second entrance, Lottie had taken to a LOT of wine, and a LOT of cream puffs, which were not settling well in her stomach. "That for me?" she reaches for the glass of wine, and it slides down the gullet in one full sweep. "Josie. Stop. You can't wear a pantsuit to a masquerade it goes against the laws of A THEME. YOU WOULDN'T WEAR A PAIR OF YEEZYS TO THE MET, WOULD YOU?"

Charlotte Degraves is going cross-eyed with madness as she takes the compliment in. "I can't fucking BREATHE in here Jose- My leg won't stop shaking and my heart keeps beating fast, and if I don't stop eating, then I'm sure I'm gonna throw up." she takes a deep breath, "And I think this place is just as in infested as that one New Years party we went to. I saw HUMAN SIZED RATS. WHERE IS MIN WITH HER GUN?!" when she hiccups, a string of snot descends from her nose. "I'm scared."

@axdently || Josefine & Lottie - an ostentatious affair

it was generous of the organisers to allow an open bar, however Josefine wouldn't be indulging too heavily in the drinks. She had set herself a strict limit of three glasses of wine with water in between, however she knew to expect less discipline from those pseudo siblings of hers. She offers a polite smile at the masked bartender from beneath her own glittering golden cat mask, picking up the two glasses of wine and moving back to join the eldest of her adopted kin. "This outfit is so uncomfortable" she complains when she joins Charlotte and passes her glass of wine over "I don't understand why Dorothy was so offended when she saw my original outfit- it's vintage for goddess' sake! She usually salivates over the silks in my wardrobe." The lawyer tuts under her breath and lifts her glass to painted lips, taking a small sip and scanning the room, taking in the outfits of the other attendees. "I must say- your ensemble is one of the most extravagant" she means it as a full compliment, eyeing the young man in cargo pants on stilts who's striding around the room with a slightly judgemental eye.

@babygirlhq // The French are glad to die for love ( 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟎𝟎𝟐 )

arriving on the arms of one of her trusted male advisors, she’s been ridiculed and incessantly prodded by the idea of courtship. the head of house Fraser has kept those smiles etched in marble and hidden those disappointing eye rolls behind that flowery mask for far too long. and finally after losing the man she was rumored to be dating, she finds herself in the corner of the ballroom, looking for something to eat. there weren’t any of her favorites- pickled plums, nor rice wine, but she’d made do with her selection. a tea cake and a flute of champagne fill her up until she thinks she's seeing double.

two dominique de sades materialize in front of her, and she has to do a double take. blinking lashes flutter under her mask as her throat collapses around the last bit of her libation. the sight alone should intensify the hatred for the french--regular Lady Seraphim would have done horrible things in the face of the De Sade, ( like emptying her leftovers upon her dress, or dumping champagne over her hair ) instead a set of crescent eyes and a wide grin greet her, "You'll do." she nods. "Dance with me or I'll die." it must have been the affects of the cake. "Just do no speaking. I can't stand to hear your voice."

@ofthcshvdes // LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN... ( 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟎𝟎𝟐 )

"Where is she, my lovely spiderlings, where? !!! " he has summoned her by a million sets of eight little legs. he scans the darkness for his beloved, looking outwardly, and hoping the catch her silk silhouette. the corsage on his lapel is still in tact, the one she'd gifted him with a smile before he left to watch over their children. the gloomy, and glittery eyes of Jack Skellington beseech the woman of his dreams. he aches with anticipation for he remembers that his favorite image of her is when the moonlight above them shines bright. he calls once for her, "My dearest Myrad !! Come find me !! "

and then she emerges from darkness and shadows cascade upon her. the materializing silk dress glows so bright, but not brighter than those forlorn yet beautifully tragic irises. he peers into the eyes of his soul's counterpart, and holds his arms open-meeting her in the middle. "I apologize for summoning you, but I wished to see you. Everyone is dressed in their best, but all I could focus on your haunting in the corner of my mind !! "