(Untitled)

[discordare]

It's by the whim of a goddess that you awaken in a foreign place tonight. Perhaps you are a spirit or a deity, and you've come of your accord. Or perhaps you are a mortal, and it is only by her will that you've been invited. Spirited away to this magical place. Your gracious immortal host has provided you with two things: a mask-- ornate, jeweled,

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[last_man_down]

[ Heimdall has a rather colorful sort of mask on, and is somewhat wandering around, looking for the familiar and the unfamiliar.

Mortal he is not, but he still has no idea how he got here. ]

[aut_augur]

[Not a spirit, not a deity, but in between. The mask suits him well, does not have the same long beak as another bird's, is mostly reminiscent of a human's but is specked with feathers and flowers.

He has not been forced into a suit this time, recognizes the augurs robes and knows something larger than himself has occurred. Discord is not a patron of his, it makes him nervous, but he knows how to behave himself and moves quietly to one side to watch the dancing.]

[lagopa]

[ Beneath the mask, her anxious mannerisms and gentle movements could make her familiar to him. She senses the powers at work here-- smells Strife in the air, feels Discord's eyes-- and his familiar aura is comforting to her.

She approaches cautiously-- tentatively, hands folded in front of her. A hesitation, then she dips her head towards him. ]

Hello, Jast.

[aut_augur]

[He does recognize her, fair hair streaming out around her petite mask. It feels as if they are caught in the eye of a storm, huddled together waiting for the inevitable rush of chaos. Seeing her is comfort to him as well.]

Hello. Do you... know where we are?

[He is not entirely certain if this a dream or not, cannot follow the strings of magic without recoiling from the horrible sound they make at his touch. There is a twinge of pain in his eyes. No. Discord is not one of his patrons at all.]

[lagopa]

[ The chaos and darkness of their host seems discomforting to the fox spirit as well. She does not dare try to reach out to it or defy it. Her powers are nothing compared to that of any god or goddess-- especially not one whose magic seems so malicious.

She draws closer. As if to hide away from everyone but her friend. ]

An immortal has invited us into their realm.

[ A pause, then more softly: ] I do not like it here.

[packof_lies]

[Freddy's mask is just black, dips low over his full lips. He stands beneath the bird cage, staring up at the musician. The song always calls to him, he wants his guitar so he can play it too, but he doesn't. He just stands there, leaned against the bars, watching the jerk and pull of the violin bow.]

[ascoltare]

[Nico's half just wandering around aimlessly, having almost entirely forgot about his mask (save for when he occasionally reaches to run a hand through his hair and finds himself bruised on a horn instead,) when he sees Freddy. Kind of fascinated by how, well... Fascinated, by the violinist he seems. So he just slides over casually, big grin and all.]

Good, isn't it?

[packof_lies]

[Usually a composed sort of man, it isn't normal for Freddy to jerk in surprise and he stares at the other man wildly for a moment, dark eyes bright and unholy within the black of his mask, of his face. His lips purse and he takes him back under control.

He nods, glancing back at the violinist longingly before focusing on the man.]

Very good, some folks'd sell their soul to be able to play it that good.

[spectrumgod]

[A riot of colours and patterns, the only way to be louder would be to start singing at the top of her lungs. Not that she isn't tempted, but there's a certain sense of decorum to the hall. Whoever tugged her from her roost might be facing wrath, if not for the fact that she really, really enjoyed a good party. She takes a moment to peer at a mirror and examine the mask she was given, smiling as if at a private joke. Silver and avian, the point is not the long ibis beak of plague doctors, but a short curved hook more reminiscent of a raptor. The top edge vanishes into her bangs and the short, bright feathers poking out of her hair must be part of it. All just part of the costume, right?]

[Right?]

[Not that anyone else here seems 'normal'. But her own attentions are on the centerpiece. Somebody clearly wanted the apple to be looked at, so here she is, looking. Skirts hiked, she leans towards it with a grin on her face.]

To the fairest, mmm? Will there be some sort of judging?

[marguey]

[ She's not unfamiliar with the supernatural, nor is she a stranger to the whims of gods and goddesses. But the margay has never been one for formal gatherings, and the ivory ruffles of her dress have her rather unamused. Like a cat with a particularly tight collar on.

The spirit sits in one of the chairs by the wall, sitting rather unlady-like (not, of course, that anyone can tell with such an unnecessary skirt) with her knees apart and her arms resting on her thighs, leaning slightly forward. Underneath her mask, she's somewhere between annoyed and petulant. ]