sing, o muse

There's a girl. Lady. Or Fool? It's not easy to tell which. Perhaps she herself is not sure. She flounces, taking a step forward to peer over the balcony and then backs up, looking thoughtful.

Her pockets are filled with grapes. You make the conclusion.

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There's another girl. Definitely a lady, if her dress is any indication.

Said girl is enjoying the role of a lady, all polite and dignified. "Hello there." Said to the ladyfool.

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Whirls, hands folding suspiciously behind her back. She does not speak, though her voice has not been stolen (that would be silly) just dips a bow with her head, feathers flapping.

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The Intel agent part of her notices the hand-folding, but she dismisses it. Not on a mission, this is for fun.

Shalla returns the boy with a slight curtsy, grinning like an idiot behind her mask.

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Kaye's lips don't move, frozen as the mask she wears. But she skips aside, bells on her feet tinkling in unison and flicks a grape at Shalla; procured from some unseen pocket.

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Shalla goes: :O! Even though it can't be seen through the mask.

So much for pretending to be a dignified lady, because dignified ladies don't often grab thrown grapes and throw them back at the original thrower.

Shalla does, though.

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Kaye plucks the grape from the air with relative ease. One would think she was born to be circus performer though she has never before done such a thing.

Nimble pixie fingers, suddenly there are two, one after another shooting in Shalla's direction.

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Oh, see, now it's on.

Shalla deflects one and catches the other, but she smushes it accidentally. Ew.

Clearly this means she should throw the grape mush back at the ladyfool.

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:O! Deftly dodged. Kaye finally laughs, a high sweet sound with a hint of fae in it. Tonight everything is odd.

Magic will weave, they say.

"Lady." Swings a slender bow again, applauding her technique.

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Back to the dignified posture. Shalla nods, acknowledging the compliment and offering her own.

"And what should I call my attacker?" Not her real name, for that would spoil the fun.

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"Miss Mirror, if you please." Soft as ash, quick as wit; the reply comes.

"And the would-be juggler?"

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"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mirror." Small twirl. "And you can call me Qatya."

Lady Qatya has a nice ring to it, she thinks.

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He left to get some drinks, and ended up stopping by the balcony. Briefly watching the people below. A view he was very familiar with, and any opportunity to be higher than most he took.

Gentlemen or git, you make the call on the young man in dress robes wearing an elaborate dragon mask.

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The girl, dressed more like a boy. Easy to mistake with a loose tunic, gives a brief bow towards the gentleman sharing the balcony with her.

She looks oddly formal now, but as she straightens the corner of her mouth quirks.

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Indeed, so he bowed back. Could be anyone he supposed.

"Good evening."

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So could he. Easy to mistake when all are masked.

"Sir." The voice soft and lilting, but clearly that of a girl. There is something mocking, even in the way she says the word.

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Definitely caught the mocking tone, but there was traces of it in his tone in as well. He was rather gifted with imitating other voices when he was making fun, so if his tones suggested a certain Boy-Who-Lived(Won't-Be-Laid)...it's just coincedence, yes?

"Enjoying the view?"

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Not that Draco would know, but all her mannerisms, bows and sweeping courtliness were stolen from her knight.

No, hers no longer.

"I am." Her eyes flick over him and Kaye spins a grape in her pocket. She can be anything she wants tonight.

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Likewise in his case. Be anyone else. Somebody popular and well liked.

"Always liked being up high. Watching over everything below."

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"Up in the clouds nothing can hurt you." The mask tilts, staring at him briefly then swivelled to face the crowd.

"Except the sun."

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"Exactly," his own mask tilted back towards her for a moment.

"And well, just have to watch as you fly."

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