For the most part the evening was turning into a lot of fun. Be nice if it would last, but luck wasn't on his side. Realising he was moving too close to a conversation he didn't want to have, he quickly looked around for an out. Winter was standing there, that could work. "Ok please do me a favour and pretend we are having a very important conversation, so that I don't have to have an uncomfortable conversation with my ex... one that dislikes me".

@notxhansel

He supposed he could admire his parents cunning. Make it look like they were trying to rehabilitate him, when in reality they had just thrown him into a prison cell and left him there. Now instead he was forced to attend this ball, it was unlikely anyone would noticed that his hands were bound behind his back.

He had at least managed to get away from his family for a few moments, taken a little refuge in the gardens. He supposed it just looked like he was standing with his hands behind his back, not that he was forced to. "You know it's unusual to sneak up behind an unarmed man" he said, becoming aware of footsteps behind him.

@lvndersbloom

"This might end badly" he mused, not something he really should be saying aloud but they were friends and he could justify his point of view easily enough. "I mean, I've seen it at the bar plenty of times. A lot of people drink at the same time, and it usually ends with at least one person in tears" and the masks were making people act unusually anyway, perhaps he should have stayed home.

@fairytalebound

For most it might seem like a stupid idea. So many people with power, and he was a pirate with several bounties on his head, or at least his name did anyway. However the bonus of having a reputation that left no prisoners, was that no one could claim what he looked like, and event like this, seemed silly to miss out over the small detail of being a wanted man.

Looking at the tall statue he was aware of someone standing nearby. Interesting. "Would you say this thing is solid gold? Plenty would kill for it if it was".

@fairytalebound

"Ask most of Wonderland, she's the one most of them are scared of. Fear is a good way to keep people down" it almost worked on him. Sure he spent most of his time completely terrified, but he still had to help his friends, had to stop them from loosing their heads. She would take it that far, he knew that too well. "Did he do something?" oh he didn't need that, trying to do damage control was exhausting on a good day. "My day? My day is the same as any other day. Woke up... realised I was late, ran here. Then the Queen was playing croquet... probably a good thing you arrived after that" he did know their opinion on the way the Queen played after all. He didn't disagree, he had almost been taken out by a hedgehog earlier.

“ she's a queen, ” cheshire corrects the rabbit. “ not some invincible perpetual monarch. why none of her soldiers have staged a revolution yet, i really wonder. ” probably because none of them are creative enough for it — how denizens of wonderland turned out so dull is a mystery the cat has yet to solve. “ hm, you could be right. he does have a knack for that, ” they say with an eyeroll. “ now. tell me about your day, else i shall simply die of boredom. then you'd really be in a pickle. ”

"I would know if it wasn't" he kept an eye on any of his assets, they both knew the situation, and if she did try and break it then it wouldn't end well... for her. He could get out of it easily enough, some fake concern and worry. Well some of his image was fake at the end of the day. "Good girl" patronising, yes, needed, probably not. "You should work on your fake smile sweetheart, anyone would think you didn't want to talk to me" she didn't, he knew that.

starter for damian radna of @violentdelightstheseviolentends. featuring viviane myricks at the emerald city art gallery fundraiser.

"don't worry, mr. mayor. my nose is as clean as a whistle, so." a labored smile noway hides the pressures of the image enforced by his hand, a refined troublemaker and her diligent savior. if viviane put a foot out of line with damian present, there would be reparations. . . and after all the progress she had made, the lengths she had gone through to distance herself from his name, she would not risk it. for a night, she could behave. she could appease him, play the part. it's nothing she hadn't done before (and would likely do again). "it's apple juice. . . of the sparkling variety, if you must know."

It was odd, during her life she had probably been in this room thousands of times, and yet done like this she didn't recognise it. It was beautifully done, something she was unsure if they'd ever be able to repeat. "Wonder where they got the inspiration from. Only masquerade story I can think of, is that Edgar Allen Poe one... I hope it isn't based on that" she added with a soft laugh. "Oh, good question" one she hadn't thought that much about. All of this was just for the night, after this she'd likely never consider them again. "They are all very beautiful. Though I can't help but think some people seem to believe it makes them completely unrecognisable and they can do whatever they wish" that felt more dangerous.

in  a  way  wearing  the  masks  was  freeing,   jack  bore  an  almost  unfamiliar  smile  upon  his  face  at  her  response—  not  quite  as  small  as  the  one  he'd  wear  when  greeting  costumers  at  the  floral  shop.  tonight  was  a  night  of  unravelling  mysteries,  or  at  least,  the  beginnings  of  such  spindles  coming  undone.  he'd  have  to  admit,  the  emotions  in  the  ball  were  a  strange  kind  of  tense,  but  not  uncomfortable.  it  was  as  if  many  faces  were  far  away,   obscured  not  just  by  the  masquerade  masks,   but  by  flickering  emotions  as  well.   "  yeah  ...  they  really  did  the  place  up.  looks  good.  "  from  the  dance  floor  to  the  various  tables  strewn  about  for  chatting  and  the  consuming  of  hors  d'oeuvre,   everything  about  the  gallery  seemed  to  change  for  the  night;  mystifying,  really.   "  how  do  you  feel  about  the  masks?  thought  it  was  strange  at  first,   though  i  think  i'm  coming  to  like  it  now.  "

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, though really he isn’t all that sure. A woman like that surely had to come from somewhere didn’t they? Then again the only woman he really spoke to these days was Helen, and mostly because she’d just keep banging on his door until he opened it. Otherwise he just tended to stay to himself, not wanting to cause any problems.

Though he also supposed he was the worst person to talk to about this in some regards. His relationship with Helen had been fake, a way to keep their parents off their backs. Other than a few flings, there had never been anyone. It might be seen as a lonely way to live, but he was used to his loneliness. With anger like his, he wasn’t a catch, and he least had found a way to keep it from ever hurting anyone. Wasn’t that all that mattered now?

At the question he shrugged, “I don’t know enough about dreams to know if that’s true or not. I mean, most of mine are full of talking furniture” it wasn’t a lie. It was omitting that there was a girl always in his dreams, but the furniture part was true. Beautiful pieces as well, not ones in his home, or that he’d seen anywhere else, that was something he never understood.

However there was also the reality that it wasn’t the only thing from his dreams he wasn’t mentioning. Some nights, the worst nights, he was on top a castle roof and Gaston was trying to kill him. What did that say about him? None of it made any sense. If he said any of that to Victoria he was sure she’d tell him he was afraid the other man would betray him, but that had never been the case. There was no one else in the world he trusted as much as him. And really if Gaston had wanted to ruin his life, he could have arrested him for the fire. It was just a bad dream, that was all, it had to be all.

That question though? How did he answer that question? If the answer was yes, didn’t that mean the phantom girl of his own dreams was real? He’d never considered that, it seemed too ridiculous and it was just easier to believe there was something wrong with him. But then saying that suggested he might think there was something wrong with Gaston, and he didn’t believe that either. There was still that one difference though, the girl in his dreams was a phantom figure with no appearance. Perhaps that would be enough. “I think anything is possible.

𝙶𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙽 𝙱𝙾𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚃 ⤐ @violentdelightstheseviolentends ( 𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙺 𝙱𝙰𝚈  )

✧  .   "𝙸  𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳  𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁  𝙷𝙴𝚁,"  gaston  assures  his  friend  with  a  sharp  look.  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  he  attempts  to  settle  back  into  the  couch  more  comfortably  once  more.  try  as  he  might,  though,  this  thought  process  isn't  some  pesky  insect  he  can  just  wave  off.  this  has  consumed  much  more  of  his  waking  time  lately  than  he'd  ever  admit.   cenk's  words  quiet  him  again,  falling  into  a  thoughtful  daze.  truthfully,  he'd  been  so  fixated  on  trying  to  discern  the  nature  of  the  dreams,  or  even  the  source.  he'd  never  considered  that  this  might  be  a  real  person,  not  in  a  serious  way,  much  less  someone  he  was  liable  to  run  into  on  the  street.  "i'd  never  considered  that,"  he  murmurs,  hazel  eyes  boring  a  hole  into  the  floor.   he  blinks  himself  back  into  his  body,  and  eyes  focus  on  cenk  once  more.  the  idea  had  occurred  to  him  before,  but  he  had  discarded  it  just  as  quickly,  thinking  it  wishful  thinking.  fantasy  and  imagination  were  never  rewarded  in  his  childhood  home.  but  hearing  cenk  validate  that  little  shred  of  hope  which  had  stuck  in  the  garbage  disposal  --  --    --  --  "i  suppose  i  would  --  pursue  her.  why  else  would  i  be  having  these  dreams  if  we  weren't  meant  to  be  together?"  it's  the  only  thing  that  makes  any  sense  to  him.  the  thought  of  being  in  love  is  intoxicating  to  him.  however,  it's  still  only  that  --  the  idea  of  being  in  love.  in  both  lives,  gaston  has  had  the  odd  love  affair,  particularly  in  youth.  and  he's  loved  many  of  them.  the  few  people  in  his  inner  circle,  he  loves  very  deeply.  in  his  own  way,  of  course.  but  gaston  has  never  been  in  love.  the  closest  relationship  he  has  is  with  --  --    --  --  light  eyes  wander  back  to  the  man  sitting  opposite  him.  tenderly,  still  half  lost  in  thought,  he  traces  cenk's  shape.  eyes  linger  on  eyes,  lips,  shoulders,  hands.  absently,  the  corners  of  his  mouth  curl  with  fondness.  two  boys  became  inseparable  close  in  their  ruined  childhoods,  bonded  forever,  made  to  wear  the  same  iron  mask  of  infallible  strength.  but  they  could  be  soft  with  each  other,  in  the  quiet  and  dark  moments  when  it  seemed  as  though  the  whole  world  stood  still  in  their  absence.  this  is  what  tenderness  feels  like,  he  thinks  in  this  moment.  this  ferocious  warmth.  if  i  know  love,  it  feels  like  this.   "do  you  think  it's  possible?  that  --  the  girl,  that  she's  real,  i  mean."

"Life is pain" he replied without thinking too much about it. A feeling of deja vu washing over him, one he couldn't explain. He was sure it was something he'd said before, he could just prush it off as that. He sighed softly, it was something he could expect. "No, the opposite" cruel to be kind he supposed, perhaps pushing it a little, but he had to try something. Honestly, he had been pretty sure Cillian would call his bluff. "You know the thing about rock bottom, the only way to go is up. Besides, everyone is wearing masks, no one will even know who you are" and that seemed fun in itself. Albeit also a little dangerous, long as he didn't flirt with one of his exes, then again he might do that anyway.

𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽 𝚁𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂 ⤐ @violentdelightstheseviolentends ( 𝙻𝚄𝙸𝚉 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚉 )

✧  .   "𝙵𝚄𝙽."   𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚃𝚂  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳  𝙾𝚄𝚃  𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷  𝙰  𝚂𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵,   his  tone  dripping  with  poisonous  disdain.   "you  mock  my  pain."   ciaran  takes  another  sip  of  his  drink,  bleary  eyes  staring  sightlessly  ahead  at  the  swirling  mass  of  fabric  and  sweaty  bodies.   "por  qué  estoy  aquí,  luiz?"   he  asks  miserably  after  a  silent  moment.  "do  you  hate  me  so  much,  to  put  me  through  this?"  the  deep  wound  of  a  victim  complex  shines  in  his  wide dark eyes.  "everywhere  i  look,  all  i  see  are  reminders  of  just  how  far  i've  fallen."  he  swallows  hard,   and  the  rum  stings  the  back  of  his  throat,   behind  his  eyes.

Luis groaned at the statement, "I thought I had. I've apologised like twenty times, and yet everytime he just starts yelling at me. I really can't handle that until I've had my coffee" alright he had messed up, he knew that, but he just wanted it to be over. Least it was someone he knew, maybe not very well but it was something. "That doesn't seem fair, I've already interrupted your morning, I don't want to steal your food as well" that really did seem like it would be pushing his luck. To be fair, he did that on a daily basis anyway, but normally only with people he was close enough to that he knew he could get away with it.

𝙴𝚂𝙼𝙴 𝙺𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙾𝚁 ⤐ @violentdelightstheseviolentends ( 𝙻𝚄𝙸𝚉 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚉 )

✧  .   "𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴  𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝚃𝙾  𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴  𝚃𝙾  𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙻  𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈." she  chastises  luiz  calmly  without  even  looking  up  from  her  breakfast.  esme  seemingly  has  one  of  those  faces  that  causes  people  to  readily  confide  in  her.  the  music  shop  and  dance  studio  share  a  lot  of  customers,  and  the  overlap  leads  to  small  talk,  inevitably.   dark  eyes  flick  up  to  her  unexpected  companion  —   truthfully,  glad  of  the  company.  this  was  a  bit  of  exposure  therapy,  and  around  when  her  food  finally  came  out,   the  anxiety  and  regret  starting  kicking  in  —  and  she  raises  her  english  muffin  to  her  lips.  "i  don't  mind,  though.   stay  as  long  as  you  like."  she  pushes  a  dish  towards  him.  "help  yourself."

Well he couldn't argue with that, it was a little odd almost. "It might just be this room, I doubt there's a lot of access to the rest of the castle tonight" though he was tempted to try. That might just be testing his luck, there was plenty in this room alone. It was a fair enough question he supposed, "I could argue that it is curiosity, but probably obvious that isn't the case" but he wasn't sure that telling the truth was the sensible way to go in this instance. "Love... I'm not able to meet with my beloved very often, but tonight has given me an opportunity to do that".

𝐟𝐭  .   robin hood   (   @violentdelightstheseviolentends   )

"   i   just   think   it   rather   cold.   i   enjoy   colours   across   my   home,   and   there   is   only   one   here.   "   midas   could   likely   feed   his   kingdom   thrice   over   for   years   by   selling   his   palace   alone.   she   knows   this,   she   does,   but   only   keeps   it   at   the   back   of   her   mind.   but   she   remembers   little   of   poverty   -   remembers   only   charming   adventures   on   her   father's   part,   making   her   squeal   with   laughter   as   his   inventions   charmed   them   so.   belle   cannot   say   they   are   without   compassion   -   but   their   selfishness   means   they   easily   find   ways   to   not   care.   "   but if   you   believe   that,   why   come?   surely   you   must not be enjoying yourself.   "

"You know you can tell me to shut up at any point, right?" he knew himself too well, knew he went into babble mode far too easily. "Huh, going to need to remember that one, might actually get some of the needed caffeine" and then his brain might work faster, and he'd have even weirder dreams, so end up more tired than he'd been before... oh he had a headache coming on. "Mindful-what?"

yusuf needs a moment to process the info-dump that leo delivers. “ yeah, they do that. dunno why, exactly, but my guess would be it's cheaper and they can get more people through the shop. but in your case, it would work perfectly to prevent you getting distracted. ” he shrugs. “ just a thought, though. i know i'd prefer it over some stupid shit like mindfulness. ”

The silence seemed to say a lot, but she really didn't want to push it. If Julie wanted to talk, she would. But for now it was easier to wait, let her decide if she actually wanted to explain what was going on or not. Besides, she looked so tired, she might just slip off to sleep, and it did look like she needed it. At the statement, she tilted her head a little. Did she have any right to think anyone was crazy right now? She doubted it. "I doubt I'll think that. What's going on?" she couldn't promise it, but really if it had her this upset than something serious had to be bothering her, and she couldn't deny that she was worried.

Julie nodded, making her way into the familiar living room and curling up on the couch. She rested her head on the arm of the sofa, a yawn escaping her as her body attempted to seize the rare opportunity to rest, even for the most brief moment. She jolted up as her friend entered the room, rubbing her eyes as she awoke from her near-nap state. "Thanks," she smiled, reaching for the mug and taking the handle gently into her hand. She brought the mug up to her mouth, resting the brim of the cup against her bottom lip and blowing on the surface of the hot chocolate. She did this for a long while - the room silent except for the sound of her breath making contact with the liquid - before she finally looked up at her friend, taking a sip of the drink before offering her a half-hearted smile. "I can talk, but you'll probably think I'm crazy."

Well she laughed, or at least hid the fact she was laughing. That had to at least be something didn't it? "I'm not trying to make it harder, I'm just saying this probably draws more attention" though he wasn't sure anything he said actually would be taken the way he meant it to be. That was exhausting in itself.

Perhaps if they'd been walking next to each other, he'd have seen her reaction, but like this he only heard her speak. That didn't seem right, not with the amount of anger she seemed to have towards him. Well he knew he had some things during their break up he now regretted, but then hadn't she as well? It would have been easy to ignore it, but it did sound genuine. Odd. Part of him wanted to actually ask, somehow get to the bottom of all of this, but it didn't seem like that was something that could happen today, instead just left with more questions than answers. And then there was the coffee shop. "Alright, your usual?"

A sharp breath of air exhaled from her nose as Helen tried to stifle her laughter, the woman forcing herself to clear her throat in order to cover what was a barely audible chuckle. Even though he infuriated her, he seemed to retain his magical ability to always crack even her worst moods. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that - even if his sarcasm was undeniably funny - instead rolling her eyes once more as he offered yet another sarcastic one-liner. "It's better than the alternative," she stated, narrowing her eyes in a feeble attempt to glare daggers into the back of his head, "and this is bad enough as is, you don't need to keep trying to make it harder."

It was in that moment that Helen decided she would remain silent until they got to the coffee shop. Everything he said either infuriated her, hurt her or frustrated her, and she was sick of participating in his twisted idea of entertaining banter. Plus, bickering was getting them nowhere, and it wasn't making her feel any better to stoop to his level. That was, however, until his next response. Her face twisted - her brows furrowing, a frown painting itself onto her lips, her eyes pained - and she sighed, shaking her head. "I don't hate you," her voice was low, soft, genuine. She could feel a tear prickling at the corner of her eye, her unbothered demeanor threatening to break, but she quickly swallowed her pain, lifting her chin and picking up the pace as they neared the coffee shop's front entrance. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. We're here."

It wasn't the first time he'd been called over to the dance studio because of the instruments. He didn't mind delivering them, it was a nice place, and it was nice to see music being used in a way that created more art. He knew a lot of the time they'd just use recorded music, but that felt sad in itself. Though he suppose when it came to music, he was a bit of a snob. He hadn't really been expecting someone else to be watching, though without paying a lot of attention, it looked like she was a teacher or something. He wasn't really focused, more with just dropping off the instruments. Putting them down carefully so they wouldn't get damaged.

Hearing her speak he looked over. She was right though, they were talented. At her question he listened for a music, "sounds like Prokofiev’s Dance of the Knights to me" a very tined version, but he recognsed it. "Might not be their favourite, but might mean they're practising Romeo and Juliet routines, they are pretty infamous".

＊   open starter  /  glass slippers dance studio.

wide doe-eyes observe silently through the large windows of the studio with a simple fascination,  always having been so enamoured by the intense talent of ballet and the ballerinas that she watches now  —  but never having been quite confident enough to pursue it herself,  despite her papa’s encouragement.     soft,  wonderous expression shifts into one of a slight and gentle frown at the thought ;     corinne’s life had been so completely thrown off track when she lost her father the past year,  it was still a deeply tender wound to think about him.     one she was still struggling to live with.     but she was trying,  pushing herself into her studies and being the very best she could be,  for him.

“  they’re so lovely…  ”     corinne voices out loud,  to no audience in particular,  completely caught in her own world for the moment.     the little songbird had grown quite familiar with not being heard,  yet speaking out to nobody but the belief that her angel might hear her was enough for her.     “  i wonder if they have a favourite piece of music to dance to…   perhaps i could learn it for them.  ”

"It's not that" he replied, "I don't really give a crap if you're doing it or not. But a lot of this town is corrupt. I'm more worried they see you as an easy target to pin any crimes on, guilty or not" it's what they did to him, they just couldn't find the evidence. If he had things his way, no one ever would. But that didn't mean he wanted anyone else to live like that. Maybe they were committing crimes they shouldn't be, but everyone had their reasons.

He sighed softly, he didn't really ever admit to what he did, that would be as good as a confession. But in this situation there seemed little point hiding it, especially as he knew they had the key. "You know I can pick locks right? That's why I've never taken the key, I don't need it" well that and he didn't want them to track it back to him. The places he couldn't break into, rarely worth the effort for his purposes. "Mmm that's my motive, but you're the one who stole it, what do you want to do with it?"

if jinyu wasn’t too careful they would roll their eyes enough times that the damn things would fall from the sockets.     what an idiot they had been,  thinking that maybe archer could be somebody cool to look up to  —  an ally against the quiet lull of calmness in this town.     but no,  he was seemingly just as cautious about the system as everybody else was.     well not jinyu.

“  hah,  you think i care if they hate me?  ”     it’s all an act,  as she bears her teeth as if he were a threat to them,  but one they had perfected over the years of constantly being seen as too much trouble for their worth.     one family had even named them the devil’s child because she had lashed out too far yet again,  but she had returned to dangerous friends back at the care home,  people who knew how to have fun and be the delinquents others so often automatically assumed of them.     might as well prove them right if they were going to judge anyway.     their hand digs into the deep pocket of dirty dungarees,  retrieving a little silver key and dangling it before him like a well won prize.     “  we could do anything with this,  archer.     it opens so many doors,  imagine all the good you could do if you just grew a fucking spine !  ”