tragic_mask | Le Masquerade

[ooc: please go first to the Through the Door thread. Thanks.]

ETA: As of this thread, all new threads in the masquerade are now after midnight [the links below are now re-linked to after-midnight sub-threads]. React at your leisure.

The ballroom itself is a burst of dazzling light. Hanging from the vaulted ceiling are two gold-wrought chandeliers, both of which glow brightly over the occasion, and tall lanterns shine throughout the room.

The grand staircase descends with a flourish and opens onto the main ballroom. A balcony, which providing a clear view of the goings-on below, runs all the way around the edge of the room. It can be reached via any of the four spiral staircases in each corner of the ballroom.

Below, the wooden dance floor flickers gently in the light from above, and musicians in the side room play soft, classical music. Meg Giry, the dance mistress for tonight, is on the floor with a microphone in hand.

A low, wooden bar in the corner provides hors d’oeuvres and drinks to revelers; small tables for two sprinkle the area.

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"Nope," Parker says. "I told a pretty girl that I'd take her to this thing."

Innocent smile, "You wouldn't know where I could find her?"

Melpomene taps a finger against her chin, pretending to ponder.

"Should I?" There is a quick flash of teeth. "Lots of pretty girls here. Might be hard to find just one, particularly since they are so cleverly disguised."

"Oh," Parker says. "She's a lot prettier than the other girls here. And is probably jonesing for a cigarette at this point."

He puts a pack of cigarettes on the bar.

Glossed lips purse, and dark eyes flutter down.

"Think she'll fall for the bait?"

"Well," Parker shrugs. "It's my only hope. I put a lot of faith in it."

Melpomene laughs, pleasantly.

"Parker, you put your faith in the strangest things."

... but you could say that of anyone, really.

"Well, it's mine," Parker shrugs. "I can use it how I want. And I don't think you're a strange thing to put my faith into."

"Of course you can."

She considers him, head tilted (too much like a sparrow).

"I try to be trustworthy."

Parker grins, "See, now we're making progress."

He says, "Liking the party?"

"Oh, of course." She grins back at him.

"If only for the outrageous flirting that goes on because people think they can't be recognized beneath their masks."

A snicker, "Sadly, I can't flirt with you. You know my name."

He pretends to be sad.

She wrinkles her nose at him.

"I'm afraid that's true, sirrah."

Amused, "Do you want to flirt with me anyway?"

Mel puts a finger to her lips, like she's pondering.

"It's tempting. After all, I could be anyone beneath the mask."

"Oh, do it," Parker says. "Make me fall madly in love."

Melpomene's eyebrow quirks.

"Duly put on my to-do list," she says, and raises her glass to lips red like Sangria.

Parker shrugs.

"What a piece of work is man!" she quips, off his gesture.

Parker looks puzzled, "Who said that?"

"Hamlet. In that speech he was both admiring his race and expressing his disillusionment with it."

Then, sardonic: "Speaking as a jaded observer, I think he was a little optimistic."

"Optimistic? That humans are an ok species?" Parker glances at her.

"If you want to put it like that."

She makes a rueful face. "You know, this is why I have such a reputation for being cold-hearted and bitter. The historians are human, after all."

"How would you put it?" Parker asks.

"He forgets to mention how easily a century of life is wasted."

She shrugs, fluidly. "I don't blame him. No one wants to believe there is no purpose in anything."

Parker tilts his head, looking surprisingly bird like. "A dozen atheists would disagree."

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