Open Chronicles The Valenntenian Masquerade Festival

[Ethir]

Ethir could have laughed with relief, when Quacey took her hands and said it was a blessing. She could not help her smile as she nodded.

It was a spot of brightness in her bleak outlook. A chance to have a change of pace. It was still early, and she knew anything could happen, but she found her hope lifting. Besides, it would keep Quacey with her for even longer.

"I don't want to lose it..." like I did the first one.

She did not pull her grip from Quacey's, and forced herself to meet his gaze behind his mask with her own.

Quacey

 

[Lyta]

Lyta found her smile growing as the story went on. It was hard to imagine him in a dancers classroom, but then perhaps the lessons had stayed with him more than he realised. She thought of the way he had demonstrated movements, how he carried himself and walked. A soldier yes, but perhaps there was his mothers dancing boy there too.

"You are doing very well for a swordsman," she offered politely instead of pointing out his flare for the dramatic on a training field. "Brom can manage barely more than a two step shuffle back and forth. I managed to convince him to dance on my 16th Name Day," she said the last bit in a conspirators whisper, eyes dancing with childish delight.

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A brief nod, to welcome the apology, and a wave of the hand, to dismiss any ill feeling that may have lingered in the attendant's mind.

What was offered would do.

While the set from which Stella made ready her brew, glimmered and gleamed with all the promise of the stars, refracted and traced across the dips and divots in the abalone coat.

That a pearl dragon snaked about the pot's width caught the Shaman's eye all the more.

Stella's words broke the warm silence that brewed between them. Words as measured as a careful pour. His eyes rose to regard hers, and he bowed his head in respect to her humility.

"So brewed in a vessel shaped by Tenmoku's own hands," he opened his eyes and smiled. "I would not be surprised if even the furthest leaf, took in the flavors of the Golden Turtle's lands,"

He would wait. His own pot, thick and simple, held in the heat all the more. Needed more time to cool to the perfect temperature.

 

[Mabbon Dreierg]

Konstantin's words had a hint of prophesy to them. And foreboding. 'Are you sure?' Mabbon asked, not wanting to see a good man kept down. 'Kaira's a most excellent dancer, and though I'd like nothing more than to keep her all to myself, I'm more than willing to lend her to you for a dance or two,' he grinned, shook his head.

Oh well.

'Have a good one, Kon, and thank you!' Arm in arm, he led Kaira away towards the dancefloor, leaving the Guardian of Power to his own devices. 'Well, this wasn't how I envisioned my night going,' he sighed, smiled as he caught the look in Kaira's eye. 'What?! I didn't!'

Sure you didn't, he heard his own voice reply. The Stone liked doing that, taking what was his and turning it to its own purposes. Manipulative, selfish, Dark as was its wont. Some days, Mabbon despised the role he had taken up, stubbornly ignorant of what it entailed. A battle for another day, he told himself.

'Anyhow, now that you've stolen me away from Kon, are we going to dance?' He paused to gaze into her eyes. Her lips were there for the taking, but he managed to restrain himself. Barely. 'Rather, would you like to?'

Kaira Yehven

 

[Mikko Cendrillon]

Mikko laughed, "Oh ho! I would have loved to see how Brom would dance now." The grin that pulled at his lips took on a smugness, something he could tuck away for later and bring up when Ser Brom next lost a round of darts against the Cendrillon lad. "He'd probably be watching me right now, insisting I am standing too close to you."

How was it so easy to smile in her presence? His cheeks had used to hurt and twitch when he kept a smile, but nowadays, when he got the chance to spend time with Lyta, they had begun to hurt less.

"You know, I hope Jasmine sees me dancing with you. She's here tonight, but insisted on seeing the port first. There are boats and ships offering to ride out passengers into the sea, and get a good look at Valenntenia all lit up. I bet she is painting something right now..." Lyta would recall that Mikko had an artistic flair about him, but his youngest sibling too took up the creative medium.

 

[Kaira Yehven]

Oh, crickets!

They were alone again, and the crowd felt as if they were falling away to the edges of her mind. "One more dance." She breathed out, smiling softly and placing her hands where they needed to be to join the song midway through it's romantic melodies. The quartet sounded beautiful, and soft, and that was how they began to move.

"I am glad this is how the night has gone." Eyes, she felt eyes upon them as they moved seamlessly with the other dancing couples. "And I cannot wait to hear what your mother will have to say about that kiss."

She was grinning now. Kaira had been walking on clouds, comforted by the fluttering of her own heart when they had spoken to the new Guardian of Light. She had been flushed and giddy when speaking to Konstantin, all because the half orc dancing with her had graced her with a kiss. The Faith Guardian could swear by the Ancients her lips still tingled with his kiss, or perhaps they were wishing for his to warm her own again.

"I am my most happiest than I have been in a really long time, Mabbon. Thank you." Her dark hazel eyes glistened slightly behind her golden mask, but tears would not fall. "I think I should have left my Stone in the Tower... there are so many present, I can feel it." A sheepish chuckle, a guilty one. The Stone of Faith took so much from it's Guardian, who would be the conduit of feeling the faith of the people, to put them at ease, and Kaira had been doing that thus far. The evening still was going, and will go until dawn no doubt, but Kaira was tiring faster.

"One more dance with you." She said, determined to spend as much time in the night with him.

Mabbon Dreierg

 

[Roki]

Roki stared at the smear left on the ground. The way the many legs left behind the boot twitched and scratched and crilly crawled across the nothing that met them.

Golden eyes blinked behind the pale painted mask of the monkey. Slow and careful, as if to close his eyes to quickly to the light that flooded them would be a disservice to the life that had been lost.

A small thing. Almost nothing. But a life none the less.

His eyes came open, and up again. And there the fox's gaze met his once more. Near colorless, save for those hues born of the light that danced around them, traced across the glassy lens of her eyes.

"A secret?" he parroted. Looked left. Then right. Came back to the fox, who seemed to eat all sounds around her. Smile clear in his eyes. "Sure," he smirked behind his mask. "I can keep secret,"

Noi

 

[Hruugen]

Slowly, as Hruugen was drawn down the gallery by each new piece he began to hear the subtle and meaningful conversation of two souls speaking in lyrical harmony.
It was impolite to eavesdrop, this he knew of course but they were so earnest, so honest and he thought it so beautiful. Surrounded by art, CREATING it. Letting it float through the air and dissipate into the stone.
It felt so deliberately intimate that one of them had to be the Guardian of Wisdom and the other a skilled artist in their own right.

Not wishing to intrude, he allowed them their sacred moment and quietly left the Gallery. There would be time enough without interrupting this important time.

It was the reserved way of the 36th Temple to allow the living their life. His place, he was taught, was among those for whom life had stopped, both the living and the dead. To comfort and encourage and to lay at peace and protect.
Curiously he found himself smiling as he descended the stairwell that lead to the gallery. He greeted the guard at the foot of the stair and passed on to a quiet place along the city's promenade.

Perhaps there was a not so intimate exchange he could join.

Hazanko Miya
Stella

 

[Stella]

A brief nod, to welcome the apology, and a wave of the hand, to dismiss any ill feeling that may have lingered in the attendant's mind.

What was offered would do.

While the set from which Stella made ready her brew, glimmered and gleamed with all the promise of the stars, refracted and traced across the dips and divots in the abalone coat.

That a pearl dragon snaked about the pot's width caught the Shaman's eye all the more.

Stella's words broke the warm silence that brewed between them. Words as measured as a careful pour. His eyes rose to regard hers, and he bowed his head in respect to her humility.

"So brewed in a vessel shaped by Tenmoku's own hands," he opened his eyes and smiled. "I would not be surprised if even the furthest leaf, took in the flavors of the Golden Turtle's lands,"

He would wait. His own pot, thick and simple, held in the heat all the more. Needed more time to cool to the perfect temperature.

The Golden Turtle. A sense of whimsy took over her expression for a few moments as she began the practiced movements of the art of making tea. Such ceremony long ago learned and perfected, never yet forgotten but admittedly fallen out of regular use.

How often did she treat another to tea? How often did they know the art of taking tea enough to appreciate such a set? How many would recognize the origin of the pottery? The meaning? The value? Know the culture behind it?

So rare, that Stella could not recall having shared it with anyone else and for a moment the Guardian's heart tightened over an emotion she could not name. Her brow pinched faintly over a strained smile, "I have been blessed with such generosity before," Stella replied gently, thinking as well that she could detect the lingering essence of Sonshan in her tea when using the pearl dragon set.

Graceful, delicate hands carefully poured hot water over loose leaf and into the first catch basin.

"But you did not come to Valenntenia for tea from your homelands..." crisp blues glanced at the man and his silver scars, asking the question that her words did not. Why was he here?

 

[Quacey]

The words offered to him in response was a knife to his heart. A desire to not lose the child one he understood all too well. The lose of family, of one's own blood, was more devastating than could be properly expressed. An experience he had gone through with his own mother and had nearly seen him rot away by choice. An experience mirrored by the utter failure that was his first time indulging his domain's call.

But there would be no room for sorrow here. Not with this.

Quacey stopped holding her hands and instead wrapped his arms around Ethir. She was pulled into an embrace and softly held there. He did not worry about anything other than letting her know she and their child would be safe. No room for sorrow.

After a time he said softly, "Would you like to watch other women trample all over men's toes or would you rather partake in the activity yourself again?"

A slight smirk was upon his lips.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir couldn't tell what she saw flicker across Quacey's expression, but when he dropped her hands she thought she had done something wrong. She wasn't worried for long however, because instead Quacey wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a solid embrace. Her face was half-buried in his chest and the edges of her mask dug into her face, but she did not mind.

Eventually when he pulled back, Ethir looked up at him and wondered vaguely why he hadn't kissed her too. She quickly shook off the thought as he spoke, mischief that he likely knew peeved Ethir coloring his words.

"I'm a quick learner, and I didn't step on your toes for the last half of the song," she replied indignantly, doing a mediocre job of scolding Quacey.

"I promise I won't step on your toes again," she added, returning her hands to his.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Her mood seemed to return back to her defiance. Good. It was comforting when she was so willing to stab him for the slightest thing. More fitting for what he knew of her. Meek and timid was not what Ethir was about. If it was then she never would have left him and never would have freed herself the way she had when he found her. If they were having a child together that was the kind of mother he would wish for his offspring.

A skeptical look came over his eyes. "I forgive you in advance for breaking your promise Ethir. Now let us rejoin the merriment while we can."

Quacey held onto her hands and shift so he was escorting her properly back to the dance floor. Already he was taking into account certain changes to their travel schedule and how often they would need certain kinds of breaks. It was only going to get harder as days turned into days from this point on.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir swatted at him before he led them back onto the dance floor as a new song began. She could tell he was thinking about what was to happen in the future, and she knew despite everything that Quacey would take care of her.

While he was thinking about the future, she put all her focus and effort into not stepping on Quacey's toes. She was a quick learner and had had three years of grace trained into her, and she managed, with intent focus, to not step on his toes the entire time.

When the song ended she grinned up at him triumphantly.

"See?"

Quacey

 

[Hazanko Miya]

To see the wisps of white curl about as the drink gained its color. How they rose, a veil of mysteries through which truth danced betwixt the twists and spirals so thin, no mortal hand could hope to stitch.

"No," he replied with a soft smile. Easy, where hers was tight. "Oddly enough, I came to get away from such familiar spells," his eyes met hers, with nary a hint of shame. For he was a Shaman. Mistborne.

Secrets were things kept, too deep to cause worry. And half truths turned tongues just as well, when strung with care.

"Yet, I would be remiss to say that I found little more than solitude amidst the festivities, and bad habits to keep me company," a warm curl on his lip. More truth than not, as the aroma of the Valenntenian brew began to fill the air. "Till our paths cross, Stella,"

Stella