Re: The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round Three: The Sable Masque
05-15-2012, 03:51 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
Embarrassment - and fear - filled Klendel's thoughts. Neither were feelings he particularly enjoyed. He had lost control of the situation, and he'd nearly paid for it with his life. That was embarrassing. But even worse, he'd been afraid. He inspired fear in others, not the opposite. He might have chuckled. First the glass in round one, then the loss of control in round two - it was as if this battle had a mind of its own, and was determined to teach him a lesson.
Klendel finally drew his attention to the environment around him. He was in a massive ballroom, possibly even larger than the opera house he'd just been taken out of. Fancy glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling above like bizarre fruit ripe for the picking, large wheels with spokes holding burning candles that let off far too much light to be altogether normal. Masked beings in extravagant outfits milled around the floor, socializing and sipping at drinks taken from platters that waiters and waitresses carried around tirelessly. An invisible cloud of petty fears and concerns permeated the room - Is my dress cut too low? Does this color match my eyes? What if I slip in these heels? - creating a mental fog that draped itself lovingly over Klendel, who was none the happier. He knew instantly what this was. It was a ball. Not simply a party, not merely a social gathering, but a ball.
Klendel hated balls. It was bad enough having to stand and socialize politely for hours on end, pretending to care about whatever the other party had to offer, but Klendel was a born liar; he could handle that. No, the true source of his dislike was the lighting. He cast his gaze up to the too-bright chandeliers, curling his lip. He was currently in the darkest part of the room that he could see, and he still felt their luminescence sapping his strength. Judging by the way the costumes he could see were glinting and flashing, the light in the brighter areas was strong enough that after a few hours underneath it he'd be having difficulty standing up under his own power. For a moment, he contemplated simply remaining in the dark corner where he was, but he knew that he could ill afford to be a sitting duck, and discarded the thought.
He found the masks to be quite unsettling. Not be design, but because everyone was wearing them, and many also wore outfits that could easily be disguises. He could be looking at one of the other contestants right now and not even know it. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he had been conferred the same advantage, and he looked down to see what he was clothed in. To his surprise, he found himself staring at what appeared to be twinkling clusters of stars set against the backdrop of space itself. The remarkable fabric reached down to his ankles, spreading out after his waist. Unlike most people, Klendel was not at all surprised to find himself wearing a dress - where he came from, it was a perfectly acceptable male outfit. He allowed himself some hope - perhaps his outfit would be an adequate disguise after all - but this was quickly destroyed as he felt at his mask and found it to be nothing more than a domino mask, concealing very little of his head itself. He knew that he'd still be perfectly recognizable were someone trying to look for him.
He gathered his wits about himself; he had to form a plan of some sort, or he'd be flying blind. While his first instinct was to assume that a ball as extravagant as this must be in honor of someone important, he knew he couldn't be sure. For all he knew, this could be standard for a small-time village ball; with nothing to compare it to, there was no way of telling. He also knew next to nothing about the building he was housed in, other than that it contained the room he was in right now. What if this time it was the strings section versus a brass band? Unlikely, he admitted, but one could never be too prepared. He decided his first course of action should be to figure out why the ball was being held; from there, he could deduce a good deal more about the ball itself.
He began looking closely at the guests - or rather, the connections between them. He was looking for a specific kind of social clique, with the right mix of mindless gossipers and yes men to have nothing to talk about but the party itself, and to be too timid to call out unrecognized latecomers. As he watched closely, the mob of partygoers began to change from an incomprehensible mass of exquisite costumes to eddies and currents, waves in the social sea. It was almost like he could hear her voice in his ear, whispering what to look for. Just like the first time. Klendel noted the familiar whirlpool of guests around popular figures, something he was only familiar with from the center, as well as the breaking waves formed by small groups on the outer edge of the scene, quietly expressing their disappointment with the turnout amongst each other. But what he was really looking for was a patch of calm water, where guests with nowhere else to go gathered, rarely leaving. He noted one, hesitated, then stepped into the light and strolled to it leisurely, mimicking the fluid gait he saw most of the other guests making. To add to his disguise of belonging, he picked a drink up from a passing counter and swallowed half of the liquid inside. The alcohol wouldn't affect him, but the emptier glass would hint that he hadn't just arrived.
To his relief, no one called him out as he walked to the group. To be fair, he reflected as he watched a guest sip its drink via its armpit, he was hardly the strangest creature present. He spent a few minutes on the outer edge of the group, politely sipping his drink, then, when several of the partygoers shifted at the same time in the right way and a crack appeared in the wall they'd formed around the most active talkers, Klendel edged himself in and got close enough to hear what was being gossiped about. From snippets he caught between heated conversations about fashion and which public official looked like he had the weirdest kinks, Klendel managed to figure out that he was at a king's coronation.
To his surprise, the discussion suddenly turned to him, as one of the active speakers noticed him for the first time. "Oh, you simply must tell me where you got that dress. You look absolutely stunning!" She shook her head sadly. "Such a shame you can't fill it out properly." Klendel opened and closed his mouth a few times in astonishment as his mind churned over what she was saying. Did she...think he was a woman? He prepared to tell her that she was wrong, but stopped himself as a plan began to form in his head.
A spectacularly terrible plan.
Embarrassment - and fear - filled Klendel's thoughts. Neither were feelings he particularly enjoyed. He had lost control of the situation, and he'd nearly paid for it with his life. That was embarrassing. But even worse, he'd been afraid. He inspired fear in others, not the opposite. He might have chuckled. First the glass in round one, then the loss of control in round two - it was as if this battle had a mind of its own, and was determined to teach him a lesson.
Klendel finally drew his attention to the environment around him. He was in a massive ballroom, possibly even larger than the opera house he'd just been taken out of. Fancy glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling above like bizarre fruit ripe for the picking, large wheels with spokes holding burning candles that let off far too much light to be altogether normal. Masked beings in extravagant outfits milled around the floor, socializing and sipping at drinks taken from platters that waiters and waitresses carried around tirelessly. An invisible cloud of petty fears and concerns permeated the room - Is my dress cut too low? Does this color match my eyes? What if I slip in these heels? - creating a mental fog that draped itself lovingly over Klendel, who was none the happier. He knew instantly what this was. It was a ball. Not simply a party, not merely a social gathering, but a ball.
Klendel hated balls. It was bad enough having to stand and socialize politely for hours on end, pretending to care about whatever the other party had to offer, but Klendel was a born liar; he could handle that. No, the true source of his dislike was the lighting. He cast his gaze up to the too-bright chandeliers, curling his lip. He was currently in the darkest part of the room that he could see, and he still felt their luminescence sapping his strength. Judging by the way the costumes he could see were glinting and flashing, the light in the brighter areas was strong enough that after a few hours underneath it he'd be having difficulty standing up under his own power. For a moment, he contemplated simply remaining in the dark corner where he was, but he knew that he could ill afford to be a sitting duck, and discarded the thought.
He found the masks to be quite unsettling. Not be design, but because everyone was wearing them, and many also wore outfits that could easily be disguises. He could be looking at one of the other contestants right now and not even know it. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he had been conferred the same advantage, and he looked down to see what he was clothed in. To his surprise, he found himself staring at what appeared to be twinkling clusters of stars set against the backdrop of space itself. The remarkable fabric reached down to his ankles, spreading out after his waist. Unlike most people, Klendel was not at all surprised to find himself wearing a dress - where he came from, it was a perfectly acceptable male outfit. He allowed himself some hope - perhaps his outfit would be an adequate disguise after all - but this was quickly destroyed as he felt at his mask and found it to be nothing more than a domino mask, concealing very little of his head itself. He knew that he'd still be perfectly recognizable were someone trying to look for him.
He gathered his wits about himself; he had to form a plan of some sort, or he'd be flying blind. While his first instinct was to assume that a ball as extravagant as this must be in honor of someone important, he knew he couldn't be sure. For all he knew, this could be standard for a small-time village ball; with nothing to compare it to, there was no way of telling. He also knew next to nothing about the building he was housed in, other than that it contained the room he was in right now. What if this time it was the strings section versus a brass band? Unlikely, he admitted, but one could never be too prepared. He decided his first course of action should be to figure out why the ball was being held; from there, he could deduce a good deal more about the ball itself.
He began looking closely at the guests - or rather, the connections between them. He was looking for a specific kind of social clique, with the right mix of mindless gossipers and yes men to have nothing to talk about but the party itself, and to be too timid to call out unrecognized latecomers. As he watched closely, the mob of partygoers began to change from an incomprehensible mass of exquisite costumes to eddies and currents, waves in the social sea. It was almost like he could hear her voice in his ear, whispering what to look for. Just like the first time. Klendel noted the familiar whirlpool of guests around popular figures, something he was only familiar with from the center, as well as the breaking waves formed by small groups on the outer edge of the scene, quietly expressing their disappointment with the turnout amongst each other. But what he was really looking for was a patch of calm water, where guests with nowhere else to go gathered, rarely leaving. He noted one, hesitated, then stepped into the light and strolled to it leisurely, mimicking the fluid gait he saw most of the other guests making. To add to his disguise of belonging, he picked a drink up from a passing counter and swallowed half of the liquid inside. The alcohol wouldn't affect him, but the emptier glass would hint that he hadn't just arrived.
To his relief, no one called him out as he walked to the group. To be fair, he reflected as he watched a guest sip its drink via its armpit, he was hardly the strangest creature present. He spent a few minutes on the outer edge of the group, politely sipping his drink, then, when several of the partygoers shifted at the same time in the right way and a crack appeared in the wall they'd formed around the most active talkers, Klendel edged himself in and got close enough to hear what was being gossiped about. From snippets he caught between heated conversations about fashion and which public official looked like he had the weirdest kinks, Klendel managed to figure out that he was at a king's coronation.
To his surprise, the discussion suddenly turned to him, as one of the active speakers noticed him for the first time. "Oh, you simply must tell me where you got that dress. You look absolutely stunning!" She shook her head sadly. "Such a shame you can't fill it out properly." Klendel opened and closed his mouth a few times in astonishment as his mind churned over what she was saying. Did she...think he was a woman? He prepared to tell her that she was wrong, but stopped himself as a plan began to form in his head.
A spectacularly terrible plan.
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