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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He chuckles. "My attention is not that difficult to attract."

"Oh? Are you the easily distractible type?" she inquires, eyebrow arched.

"Not unless I have something to concentrate on. Once my attention is caught, it tends to stay where it is."

"Well, I'm glad you have focus," she says.

"I think I may be the same way."

"It's amazing how much in common we have," he says, grinning.

"Oh, it is.

"Although you're not bitter and sadistic and jaded. Are you?" She eyes him.

He eyes back. "No, not really. Though I have been bitter and jaded at times. But I couldn't sustain that long. You write a song about it and get on with life."

"Well, who do you think inspires the songs in the first place?"

She laughs. "I mean, the good ones."

He quirks a smile at her. "The Celts have always loved their sad songs," he says quietly.

"Tragedy can be beautiful," she says.

"It can be," he agrees. "And without pain, you cannot know happiness."

She nods slowly, in agreement.

"The pain makes the happy moments that much sweeter."

"Most definitely," he says softly, as the music begins to wind down.

She flashes him a smile. "Glad to know we're on the same wavelength. I'm too poetic for most."

"Well, it is good to know the language of sorrow. It's a big part of life."

"Yes. Though many try to run away from it." There's a twinkle in her eye, despite her serious words.

"But most of them are out of shape."

He laughs. "I don't think it's possible to be fit enough to outrun sorrow."

Le Masquerade

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