Winter Masquerade ~ !

Hey everyone, this is where the masquerade will start. The dance is winter themed - so when considering your costumes try to add some icy or winter-ish touch to it. I'm going to ask everyone to post as guests, giving a name to their character in disguise. When the dance ends up ending at whenever it ends you can post once more with a list of the characters, who you think the character is and who it belongs too. That or the list of characters and who you think was writing. For example:

Blah blah - Daniel
Blah blah Blah- Martina
Blahess Blah - Dion

Author: Seren.

Now, onto the lay out of the ballroom.
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The ballroom floor is covered with fake snow, the only space being in the middle of the room so people have room to dance. The tables near the buffet table are decorated in a winter theme with mistletoe used as a centerpiece in most of the tables. The walls in the ballroom give off low lighting so as to have a fire light affect. The ceiling of the ballroom occasionally sparkles and twinkles from the stars in it - the brightest amount of light coming from the bar so the bartenders are able to see what they are doing. There is a stage set up with a live band near the the front of the space to dance, and the stage is the first thing you notice upon entering the ballroom.

Chione stood outside the door to the ballroom, preparing herself for whatever might lie ahead. She straightened herself out, making sure her mask was secure and her hair held fast.
She had been planning something rather different, but at least she'd come up with another idea.
She was dressed in a style reminiscent of antiquity, dark hair coiled up on her head and held with a wide grip. Her himation- for that was the only way to describe it- was mostly white, but faded down to pale blue near the bottom with white patterns that looked like snow-flakes. Her mask matched this design except it was all blue bar the flakes.
Chione had remembered spray-on snow, and had covered herself in that too. She thought the name suited her now; it did mean "snow", and this was always how Chione had thought of the mythical goddess.
She knew that her stature made her very distinctive, but she doubted anyone would see through this. It was so rare to see her in a dress (including weird Eastern-European dresses) that even Chione herself had a hard time accepting the turn of events.
She pushed open the door and walked inside. The scene took the air out of her lungs. This was not what she had been expecting. She wasn't too sure what she had been expecting, but this had to be better, just by default.
Chione was clearly among the first here, and most of the others seemed to be bartenders, musicians, or the like. There were a few students, but the hall still looked, and felt, very empty.
She took a few steps in, noting her surroundings. Chione certainly hadn't planned to be among the first ones here, and she didn't really know what she should start by doing. She didn't want to just start dancing like a loner, and it would be a little presumptuous to go in at the food straight off the mark.
Chione sighed and wandered over to the edge of the hall, waiting for more people to arrive. Maybe she'd just follow the lead of the next few people who came in; at least she wouldn't stand out then.

Could there be anything so antithetical to the unyielding cold of winter as the warmth of a fire?

The girl had been at a loss for costume ideas. Days spent trying to come up with something suitable yielded nothing but frustration. In fact, she had considered not attending when she had a peculiar stroke of luck.

A full-face mask hung on her door one morning. When she first spotted it, she was a tad insulted. Somebody had a mask, but it was the wrong theme, so they thought they'd bum it off on her? It was a peculiar sort of thing, of a material quite unknown to her. Not quite transparent, but with a depth that bespoke more than glass or simple paper mache. On, it was completely different.

It had a series of ribbons hidden under layers of fabric, presumably to secure it for wear. However, one of the ribbons contained a clue from the mystery donor. It read, "in the dead of winter, there's only cold/ the wood, the air, the sky is old./ death without, gnawing hunger and bite/ desperation mounts with declining light./ faced with chill, and frost, the silent snow,/ where, oh where, does the wretched man go?"

That clue took her longer than she dared admit to decipher. When she was about to give up and throw in the towel, inspiration struck. With the masquerade drawing close, she had to do some serious searching to complete the costume.

The rest was constructed from bits from the remnants bins in fabric stores, garments discovered in thrift shops, what little she had that would match, and a brief stop at the home improvement place.

Her dress was made of layers upon layers of gauzy fabric (styled to match the fabric that had been attached to the mask), sewn together in such a way that they would flutter out irregularly if she moved or walked. The sleeves extended beyond her fingertips, which were encased in sooty leather gloves. All the colors of flame were represented in her dress, which gave her a womanly shape without being too indicative of the person wearing it.

Her boots were encased in bits of brick and brick dust, anchoring the costume and adding to the sensation that she was a specific type of fire. They were sturdy and heel-less, of course.

The coup-de-grace was the mask, of course. It was nice off, but it transformed her when she put it on. It created an effect of her person flickering in and out, going invisible in places even as others seemed to glow brighter. The final effect was that the air above her head shimmered as though she were actually giving off heat.

Hearthfire glided into the ballroom and immediately felt inadequate compared to the decorations. She stifled the urge to slouch and determined her options. She could either wander around aimlessly until the crowds came in and eased the tension a little, or she could go talk to other students. It wouldn't have felt so daunting if she knew for certain whether she recognized the others, or if this were just a mind-trick.

She made a decision immediately. Fire was pretty direct, so she should be too. The girl made her way over to another female, one who was dressed like... snow? That was probably it, given the artistic application of spray-snow on her person. Hearthfire stood next to her and said in a whisper, "You look beautiful. Have you been here long?"

The whisper served two purposes. First, it was like the hiss of fire. Second, it disguised her voice.

she walked in, one-two
gliding like water down a pane, or flesh down a wolf's gullet
or blood down a ritual knife

Everything about her was ethereal, from the plain white mask with soulless slashes for eyes and mouth, to the way her white hair (maybe a wig?) had been teased to float behind her in a cloud. There were spikes worked into it, so like icicles that it seemed as though they could melt if she wandered too close to the fire.

The dress clung close to her curvacious form, glimmering subtly cold light. It was lined with fur and artistically covered her arms and shoulders and flowed out to the ground in yards of cloth at the hem. The fabric swirled up her neck and was festooned with glimmering bits of semiprecious stones (all colorless, like ice). What parts of her skin that showed were covered in pale makeup with a hint of shimmer.

Most striking, however, was the staff, splashed with blood red paint and ornamented with feathers and beads that were carved to look like agonized human faces.

At her heels was a man taller than she. His face was covered from the bridge of the nose down with a thick cloth and the rest of his skin had been painted with war colors. He wore a hood made to look like a dreadwolf's head and pelt, and this hood extended down his back. His clothes were also of pelts, and his shoes were wrapped so. He had a spear, held carelessly at his side as though he'd forgotten it.

His dark eyes scanned the crowd, but he only moved when the Witch moved and he stayed close to her.

In tandem, they moved to the bar. There, they stood and did not order anything.

The masquerade had attracted more students than she expected. The ballroom had been transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with snow. Even the band was, admittedly, wonderful. They had been the first thing she noticed as she entered the ballroom, and had smiled at how pleasantly surprised she was. It had taken a lot of pushing, but she had been goaded into going. It couldn’t really be that bad, right?

The dress she had decided on was a mermaid style dress, fanning out at her feet and clinging to the rest of her. The gold coloring shone against her pale skin, making the soft rhinestones on the sweetheart neckline stand out even more. The dress darkened to a deep black, dappled with champagne –colored rhinestones. The lights of the ballroom caught on the soft shimmers throughout the dress, making it shine every time she moved. Her hair had been a challenge; she wasn’t sure if she should pile it up or leave it down. In the end she had decided on keeping it down and taming her natural hair so soft curls framed her face.

Her mask was older, beautifully crafted by a generation that had much more appreciation of formal dances. Made of paper mache and hardened over time, it covered most of her face, reaching over her forehead and completely covering her nose. The nose swooped into a soft snout, with a gold-painted nose at the end. White was painted softly around the nose, giving the effects of a muzzle. Gold swirls and designs enunciated the outlines of a fox’s cheek-tufts; a darker shade of gold helped the swoops stand out and added more shimmer to the mask. The holes for her green eyes were long, accentuated to make the wearer’s own eyes appear more catlike. Ears finished the mask, gold replacing the usual white at the top of the ears, with a soft, worn pink on the inside.

The mask itself was enchanted, and changed her hair into a fiery orange, riddled with high and low-lights to make her hair rival that of a fox. She was very satisfied with the outcome of her whole outfit, and was confident that people would not recognize her. She didn’t recognize anyone else when she had walked in. Everyone seemed to be keeping their distance from each other; there weren’t many people there yet. She walked to the bar and simply ordered water. The night would determine if she would need to order anything else. There was a couple near her and she gave them a nod of indifferent acknowledgement.

Specter irritatingly rubbed her eye as she entered through the entrance doors of the ballroom. The place’s décor was absolutely superb in her opinion; the lighting was the first thing that caught her eye. As well it was teeming with people, although they seemed to gravitate away from the center of the room which was also the dance floor she presumed. She was going to dance, but perhaps a bit later when things livened up a bit more. If nothing she would feel forced to be the one to begin it all.

After she had passed through the doors into the room she quickly moved herself toward a nearby wall to take in her surroundings a bit more before she went further within. The main reason behind this action was to get a better look at what her options were.

Specter’s apparel was of the dress variety. The lower half of her dress was large and fairly puffy with it protruding out near the length of her shoulders. The fabric of the lower half appeared to be a soft white cotton which almost looked blanket-like. At the left side of the waist of her dress was a small bronze broach with a little emerald emblem at the core of it. From the waist up to her neck was a thin beige fabric that wrapped quite snuggly to her body. There was a sort of snowflake design to the torso part of her dress with three rows of two snowflakes stretching from her neck line to her hips. The snowflakes gave off a radiant white when put into the light otherwise they were just barely visible. Wrapped around her shoulder line was a large furry scarf like article of cloth, but it was much thicker than an ordinary scarf. It almost looked like she was wearing the fur of a white animal except without any animalistic features. It covered the upper half of her chest and it is fastened down onto the dress by a broach that is similar to the one on her waist. The tops of her shoulders are exposed as are her arm with the exception of a small bracelet on her wrist which shares the same attributes as the broaches. The dress only appears to be these fabrics, but does not feel like the before mentioned fabrics as it is largely an illusion.

Specter also wore a white thinly fabricated mask that hid most of the upper half of her face and stops at the halfway point on the bridge of her nose. It does not have too much design to it. It is smooth and mostly dense material.

The bars seemed relatively busy, so she didn’t bother to attempt to get a drink. She eyed the crowds of people instead and began to approach the crowds. Perhaps she would find someone of interest within the large cluster of people.

A more splendid mask could not have existed. The flavor was pink, with embellished designs in gold filigree. His suit matched, even the wing tipped heels. Yes he was wearing pumps. Yes he was fabulous. What was more, was that he had lost a few pounds since he started living a more active lifestyle and so the gold buttons on his pale pink vest weren't straining. Pink had taken care to iron his dress pants so that the crease was symmetrical and was glad that the outfit popped, rather than looking gaudy, but that would have been fun anyway. It wasn't often that he could dress with a little bit of wild spice.

He stood by the bar, drinking a virgin daiquiri, and trying not to get poked by the blue umbrella. Not worried about being recognizer or not, he wondered if his friend would feel the same, and scanned the room. The girls looked fantastic, all of them, and he was pleased to see how well this shindig was turning out. With an easy slide, he wiggled a little to the music as the band struck up it's first song. Pink flirted with the bartender and wondered if the glorious mask was giving him a step towards bravery, or if it was the sugar in his drink. Or maybe it was the fact that his vision was slightly blurred.

When Ice Witch and Wolf came to the bar, he passed pleasantries. “What fantastic outfits! Really just fierce!” He examined the staff the man had, tilting his head around so he could see over the rim of his eye slots. They seemed confident with themselves and Pink's eyes slid over to the door where two girls were standing a bit more isolated than everyone else.

He paraded himself towards the girls by the door, feeling very joyful and festive. Like a pearl fresh on an oyster's tongue. He thought that the gold walking stick added a nice bit of flair. He bowed dramatically to Hearthfire and Chione. “Absolutely wonderful to see you here! Everyone's outfits are stunning. I'll have to ask that young lady how she made her hair look like fire!” He waved a pale gold handkerchief at Specter, who was standing at a little distance from them. “Over here! A party is all about mingling!” Then Pink turned back to the other two girls. “What inspired you're outfits? How are you finding the party so far?”

This had been an opportunity to show off his physic. Of course he had cleared it with the headmistress, but Satyr was quite pleased with his costume. It was a little bit like Mr. Tumnus, well, a lot like it. His pants were bell bottoms, on the brim they were tailored to a little triangles. The small trail of fuss below his navel was almost hidden because of the design. His boots were shiny, heavy and polished. It helped with his balance, and kept him a little less obvious. If he had with him what he normally did, people would know him right away. He was shirtless, but had a green and silver scarf with a silver broach pinned at his neck.

The mask, had been discovered by Satyr's friend, while searching for his own pink atrociousness. Satyr had looked it up on the sly and purchased it. He didn't want Pink to notice him, and that's why he had splurged on the books. It was a full mask with a frosted face and a painted nose and a bronze goatee and curly hair made out of the same material, so that it all looked like glass. The goatish ears were also tipped with color, and the horns were detailed and spun with thick detail. There was a garnish of vines woven into the false hair and trailed down the left side of the mask.

Satyr had come in behind the girl with the fluffy, cotton dress and furry scarf, but his eyes were on someone else. The foxy lady by the bar...he knew that backside from anywhere. He strolled towards her, tall and elegant, and tightened his pecs. Satyr did feel a little exposed, but that was because he was without his normal wear, and was standing with better posture. “Such animal passion in your outfit,” he whispered in her ear, placing a hand on the small of her back, before moving to take the open space beside her. He wasn't worried about the open affection. No one would know him, but still the hand was brief against her. “You might make the others jealous.”

The drowned man wandered into the ballroom, barefoot, jacket-less, and seemingly submerged in water. His long, dark hair floated, weightless around his head, his clothes limply swishing around his rangy form.

Illusion, of course. It was also illusion that altered the light around him, making it seem like he was submerged in frigid water, waves on the surface altering the opacity from moment to moment in random patterns and forms. The last part of the illusion was the ring glimmering constantly ahead of him. Wherever he moved, it was constantly out of reach, glinting gold light.

The garb was clearly from the industrial revolution. The shirt was loose in the sleeves and constrained in the chest by a simple waistcoat of a dull black with embellished designs at the pockets and hems. The embellishment was subtle, though, tasteful in the face of the rather morbid theme. His breeches were just below the knee and not too tight. Finally, a cravat around his neck completed the outfit (as it was meant to be completed- the lack of jacket or boots would have otherwise been odd).

He did wear a mask, but it was not anything particularly special. It depicted the upper half of a youthful face, partially blue with cold (an effect replicated with makeup on his nose, jaw, and mouth). A trustworthy face, handsome in the way that faces touched by recent troubles and amended by recent joy could be.

The Hunter moved to and fro for a moment, deciding where he needed to be. The movement merely added to the sense that he was lost, dead and confused by it. A man in pink had addressed two of the ladies present. The fox had been accompanied by the satyr who'd entered before him.

Still, there was no shortage of ladies who were standing aloof. He wandered over to a young lady with a furry scarf and a snowflake design to the dress. When he stood before her, he bowed mutely. A look of annoyance briefly crossed his face and he reached for the ring. It was, still, beyond his reach, and he waved a hand in dismissal at it before returning his attention to the girl.

He smiled, an unexpected and unlikely expression for a person in such a garb. Waving a hand at the dance floor, he wordlessly asked if the lady would like to join him in a dance. There was something patently wrong with the idea that he would dance with a girl dressed thusly, but he wasn't really interested in standing around and there would be no lack of women dressed in icy themes.

Felidae brushed his hair back out of his eyes, but it quickly fell down again. He'd done the best he could to keep it out of his face, including using a heck of a lot of hair-gell, but the difference was barely noticeable at all.

He doubted anyone who knew him wouldn't be able to tell who he was despite his efforts. It wouldn't take long for them to notice his accent.

Felidae was dressed as a white bengal tiger. He wasn't sure how it was particularly wintry, but it had to be better than dressing up in bright shades. He had a pair of white cat's ears on a band on the top of his head and a limp tail sewn onto the back of his stripy black-and-white fluffy onesie. The sleeves covered quite a lot of his hands. His mask was mostly white, apart from a few dark streaks across his cheeks and forehead. It only hid the parts of his face from the tip of his nose up to his hair-line, and it had large holes around his black eyes. He was also carrying a matching black shoulder-bag.

Felidae walked into the ballroom, and looked around. There sure were a lot of girls here. Still. He wanted to get to know more people from this, and the only way he could do that was by social interaction. His eyes flicked around, picking out a couple who were standing on their own. He didn't recognize them, but he couldn't really expect to given that they were masked.

Felidae walked over to the bar, and stood next to Ice Witch and Wolf. He raised one half-covered hand in a clear sign of greeting.
"Hi."


(OoC.; Okay, for some reason I can't help thinking of this; www.youtube.com/watch?v=ln0QsYJ46Dk&list=PLEE2A37032ACFC385 . I'm not sure why...)

He wasn't really sure why he was here the first place, it wasn't really like him to go to flashy events like this. No matter, it was time for some sort of new start and this was the beginning. As he walked in, Tree shifted uncomfortably in the clothes that he wore. His suit was black and a tight fit, but nonetheless he was attempting to be social. Decorating his pants legs was what appeared to be bark from a tree, the bark itself was scattered and mostly on his legs for ease of sitting down. Coming from the toes of his shoes seemed to be a small little sprout with a leaf growing out of each one. Over his first black coat, was a coat of leaves with the occasional fleck of snow on it in the spirit of the winter theme.

The coat had sleeves that ended at his elbows and it's tail also ended at the back of his knees. Tree could have never made an outfit like this, instead he had gone to someone who... enchanted? This outfit for him. It had fit and worked in according to what he was thinking - it was just a lot more uncomfortable than he thought.

Finally, when it came to his mask - it was a full face one with dark green coloring and with vines hanging from the cheeks and chin giving the appearance of a beard. There was a tiny bit of a hole at the mouth so that he could breath, but otherwise the only thing you could see of the man's face was his eyes. Tree kind of liked it this way, his clothing was uncomfortable so at least his agonizing expressions wouldn't been seen with this mask. Upon finally finding himself near all the hustle and bustle as they would call it, Tree found his subject of interest very quickly - ignoring all other people for the time being Tree started to graze the table for any food of interest while sneaking a morsel in underneath his mask every now and then..

As soon as the news of a masquerade had reached her, she knew exactly what element her costume would revolve around. The issue had been finding a mask and dress that fit together as well as the ones she had imagined. In the end, it had only been two days before the ball when she found the mask that suited her dress perfectly.

She had been scouring the town, fretting over how little time she had, when she’d wandered into an out-of-place thrift store. After a few minutes of looking, with no luck, she was about to leave when she saw the mask dangling from a shelf. The owner had even given her a discount on it. The mask itself was of an ivory color, with small intricate designs laced throughout; on the right side of the mask was a large, fully bloomed red rose. A white ribbon hung near the bouquet, more decoration than a way to secure the mask. She had bought it without hesitation.

Her dress had been picked out the very week she heard about the masquerade. The bodice was the same white as the mask, embellished with silver beadwork. The real pride of the dress was the skirt. The material gathered together in soft ruffles that matched the rose’s bloom precisely, as did their shades. There was a slight train to the dress, nothing too long that people would trip over it, just enough to accentuate the dress’ floral look. Her eyes had focused on it almost immediately at the shop, and as soon as she tried it on, she knew it would be the perfect dress for her.

The Rose (a name she had easily decided on for the night) hadn’t had a hard time with hair or make up; her hair had been gathered to one side in a low, thick braid, the ribbon entwined in her hair. She had chosen wined eyeliner, mascara and a deep red lipstick as her make up for the night. Her dress was flashy enough; she didn’t need some big hairdo to go along with it.

Entering the ball, she was a bit dismayed at the fact that most people seemed to be there. She was never late, ever… Maybe she’d gotten the time mixed up? Ah well, she was there now, and that’s all that mattered. The Rose looked around, and gave a small, overly excited wave to The Fox at the bar, noticing somebody talk to her. It caught her attention briefly, but she was so taken in with the decorations that she decided not to pay too much attention. Most people seemed to be in their collective groups and, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what to do. She found a table not too far from other people and looked around, pleasantly observing everyone else having a good time.

(Okay, I’m going to assume everyone has posted/ doesn't mind slipping in between people.)

Chione looked up at Hearthfire as she approached, taking in the girl’s garb. It really was quite an impressive image, not even she would deny that.
Chione picked up easily on Hearthfire’s whispering. She realized now that this may be in her interests also, so as to disguise her voice, and bumped up her voice half an octave before speaking. That should be enough to do the job. It made her voice sound vaguely like the north wind, which was rather suiting.
“If you say so.” Chione didn't really want to admit that she looked better in a dress. She hated them, and the less people commented on it, the less opposition there was to her conviction on the inferiority of dresses. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t been here particularly long, maybe a minute or so. And, by the way, you look like… well, great.”
She turned her head as Pink walked over, noting the guy’s well…rather pink attire. Jeez, that brought a new level to bright. Chione was a little surprised it hadn't grabbed any more people’s attention. She was more sensitive to that kind of thing than most people; the shade actually made her eyes hurt and she doubted the others could boast that. Chione struggled not to avert her gaze; that would be the recipe for “dead give-away”.
She waited for him to finish speaking, and answered as honestly as she could.
“Ancient Greek myth. I mean, Chione, goddess of snow and ice…seems wintry enough to me.” Honestly, it hadn't taken very much thought at all to come up with this costume, and there was really no point hiding her idea; very few girls would go to a party dressed in what is essentially a brightly dyed bed-sheet without being dressed as a Roman or a Greek.
Chione shrugged, waiting for Hearthfire to answer the second question. She really wasn't too sure, as she had so small an amount of experience in this matter.

Hearthfire's persona was filled with the confidence of a strong blaze and that made it easier to deal with the lack of expression in her mask. Chione's compliment, and the general ones given by the man wearing a fabulous pink suit. When he bowed, she inclined her head in a similar gesture. The girl of flame did not trust herself to curtsey properly, nor did she think that it would be appropriate.

Her form flickered in and out as she stood there, and her movements only added to the illusion. In response to Pinky's first question, she waved a hand and whispered, "A bit of magic, a bit of fabric. Nothing that fantastic. Trust me." She elongated the s sound into a bit of a hiss. Her ts were like pops.

The band went into a bouncy, easy-to-dance-to version of "As Cold as Ice" by Foreigner, an appropriate choice given the theme. Hearthfire moved subtly to the beat of this as she listened to Chione answer the man in Pink. "If that's not wintry enough, then nobody will be wintry enough."

For her part, she had to shrug when it was her turn to spill about the inspiration for her costume. In the end, she went with the truth which felt a little stranger than fiction. "I was not going to come," she whispered, "because I was having a difficult time coming up with something. Then somebody left a mask on my door one morning and the rest fell into place."

That was all she wanted to say about that, so she moved on to the next question. "It seems like it will be fun, more so when there are more dancers on the floor. Right now, it feels as though everybody is measuring each other up." She tilted her head at the man. "What about you? What made you decide to crank the glam up to eleven?"

She was trying not to give in to a creeping self-doubt. So many girls had opted for classical-style dresses. What if she was just an oddball in her piecemeal costume? She cast a glance in the direction of a girl sitting by herself in a rose motif.

Ice Witch smiled at the compliment from behind her mask, an expression only visible briefly when the light caught her brown eyes behind the slits of her mask. She watched him flutter off to another group, and her silence was pensive.

Wolf's silence was merely stoic.

They were then approached by a young man wearing a Bengal Tiger costume. It did not reach the elegance of some of the other costumes, but it was refreshing to see somebody try something different. Not that animals were not being done (case in point: Fox, also at the bar), but the boy was different.

"Hello," she replied pleasantly enough. "Nice costume. You definitely belong here with us wild types on this side of the room." She gestured at Wolf, and Fox, and even at Satyr. Her accent was odd, but she was speaking clearly enough. Perhaps it was part of the act. She paused and asked, "What's in the bag?"

Wolf's lack of extraneous movement up until this point made the sudden restlessness he exhibited seem all the stranger indeed. The Witch touched his hand lightly and murmured, "Why don't you go enjoy a dance?" She looked around the room and nodded at the Rose. "Go enact Beauty and the Beast. Not literally. Ask her to dance."

He nodded, his originally stillness settling back into his person. Witch had the presence of mind to take his spear as he moved past her towards the girl.



When Wolf reached the girl's table, his manner was as rough as his voice. "Dance with me?" he asked directly. His eyes, virtually the only part of his face visible to others, did not stray from the girl's face.