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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"I can see that." They do-si-do, and she flashes a grin at him as they move up the line.

"I love this dance-- it allows for creativity," she says, as one masked man with long tail-coats twirls his partner enthusiastically past them and takes his place again.

He grinned as he spun, moving his feet and then took her hands.

"Creativity can be good."

And then he lifts her, not in a twirl, but up, three feet in the air.

Dancing on air, anyone?

Melpomene looks down at him with a laugh of pleasantly winded surprise.

After a moment, with air in her lungs and her feet on the ground, she raises an eyebrow at him from beneath her mask. "The boy's strong and creative."

He grins and dances with her, the movements fast or slow as the tune tells them. His grip is sure and steady, but not painful as he moves with her.

"Where'd you learn to dance?" she asks, genuinely curious. "You have good movement."

... but there's no time for an answer, because now they're at the top of the line, and it's time to promenade down the line to the rhythm of the violin and clapping hands.

He opens his mouth, then whirls away and dances, moving along.

he grins.

This is fun!

Melpomene would concur with that, laughing dizzily as they reach the end of the line all topsy-turvy. She smooths down her skirt and purses her lips at him.

"This is certainly good exercise," she says.

"Indeed! How do you fare, of fairest of the ladies?"

His grin under his mask is slightly roguish.

"Marvelous," she says. "It's a beautiful evening."

He grins at her. And his voice dips to a softness.

"And have you learned to relax, and take some joy here tonight?"

"These are always joyous occasions," she says, twisting it to mean anything, or nothing.

... and grasps his hands to draw him close, as the dance calls for, then recedes.

He eyes her and nods, catching that.

Hmmmm, this may require drastic efforts.

He follows the dance, watching her, and enjoying the moves.

She considers him with eyes glinting behind the mask.

"And how about you? Letting go of things that are gone?"

"Slowly but surely. And finding a future. Even as i still wonder about one question."

he grins as he dances away again, following the rhythm of the dance, then back.

As her skirts brush lightly past him in the do-si-do--

"And what question might that be, young sir?"

he chuckles.

"Twould be telling to tell and would ruin the question to mask it aforehand. The time is not yet right, milady."

And he dances, his hands at his hips as he whirls.

"Is it ever?" she says, in a philosophizing tone.

"Yes. It is almost time. "

Then he stops, as he music skips a beat, and he looks at her for a moment.

"Are you ready?"

Thehn he is dancing again as the music plays.

The violins fade and the wild dance is over. After a moment, a more somber song begins-- it's a waltz, of course.

"I'm always ready." She raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

And he bows to her.

"Then may I have this one more dance, milady?"

"I was hoping you'd ask," she says with a laugh. "Wouldn't want to be stranded just like that."

She puts one cool hand on his shoulder and grasps his hand with the other.

"So. Ready for what?"

He takes her hand and settles his other at her waist.

Then he grins.

"The time is almost here. For now, a dance is welcome. Especially with such an amazing partner."

Her lips (deep red, like good wine) curve up, teasing.

"Few ever seem to appreciate my wonder. I'm glad you do."

He smiles, plainly, watching.

"Perhaps they do not see you. I see more than a muse."

He moves with her, smoothly. Eyes, brilliant in tyhe eyes of the mask, watching her, show his admiration.

... but of course she can't see his eyes behind the mask-- that's the point, isn't it?

"Oh, really? Is there more to me than that?" she asks, feet moving to the one two three one two three of the orchestra.

Re: Dance Floor

withamagicword - 2006-08-13 09:31 (UTC) - Expand

tragic_mask - 2006-08-13 09:35 (UTC) - Expand

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