dualislogs | oh, we dance in misery

oh, we dance in misery

WHO: Open to all Dualizens!
WHAT: the Plague Memorial Masked Ball
WHERE: the Mayor's Mansion (central Dualis)
WHEN: the evening of November 16
WARNINGS: Visuals/discussion of disease and death in the setting. Anything else, please use appropriate warnings!

At 8 p.m. sharp, the lights inside and around the Mayor's Mansion turn up, and the doors are opened to the crowds that begin to trickle inside. All entrances are manned by Iterations, and all party-goers are scanned for both proper attire (formal and masked, mandatory) and weapons (absolutely forbidden) before being allowed entry.

Once inside, attendees are greeted to a spectacle of warmth and light and lavish decorations, all themed in white accented with gold and violet. Venture into the ballroom, and you'll see intricately carved ice sculptures in various representations of death, all laden with garlands of marigolds and violet chrysanthemums. At one end of the room, a rotating cast of musicians plays soft music in differing arrangements of strings and piano. Long tables at the other end of the ballroom are piled high with punch fountains and platters of delicious party foods, and a few bar stations serve beverages of the more adult variety to those of age.

Outside the main ballroom are seven smaller rooms, for more intimate conversations and quiet recovery from the main gala (or just skulking like a brooding weirdo, if that's your thing). Six of the rooms are decorated in monochrome blue, purple, green, orange, white, or violet, and the seventh room is pitch black with red accents.

Throughout the night, the mayor herself winds in and out of the crowds, shadowed by a pair of bodyguards. She is all smiles, greeting people with a friendly handshake and effusive words of thanks for attending the ball, but she never stays in one place long enough for a true conversation. This is a celebration of life and a remembrance of the dead, after all - not the time or place for talks of business or politics.

Enjoy yourselves tonight, everyone! And remember - death eventually comes for everyone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I've never been in uncomfortable formal wear. But women's stuff? It looks pretty uncomfortable. But I did see one woman in a suit. That was pretty sharp."

But he does grin widely at the idea that he looks cool. That was the point. Plus the pink was meant to make him visible to one person in particular, so he was glad the effect was awesome. Well, those weren't her words, but he knew the sentiment had to be there somewhere under the surface.

"In some ways," he says after a moment, frowning, "it was easier with the company. They told me what to wear, where to go. And they told me I was doing it for a good cause. That I was helping people and saving the world. Lies, of course."

While he says this he moves forward, flopping down on the floor and patting a knee for her to put a foot on.

"You're not wondering how the guys at my barracks found out I was good at this?"

"Maybe I should have gone with a suit then." She shakes her head and chuckles. "I just took the first thing they said looked like it'd look good on me." Maybe there should have been a bit more consideration for it, but it's something she just wanted to get over and done with.

The chuckle she lets out next is laced with bitterness and regret. "Those selling points always end up being lies." It's a sentiment she's all too familiar with. Reeva had been the same. Pretty words about helping people, saving the mutant race, all that shit, and all of it just a bunch of lies. Or maybe not complete lies, just leaving out some of the more nasty details of what she planned on doing.

She shakes her head and then smirks as she puts her foot up on his knee. "Well, now that you've asked, I'm curious?"

Oh man, that tone of voice? Zack's not touching that topic. Not here and now at least. He files it away for later, though. This is a party, and parties should be fun, right?

"Well, Lorna, I think you look great," he assures her, his hands working over her feet firmly almost immediately. And yeah, he's got some level of skill with what he does. So there's that. Not, like, mind meltingly good, but still passable.

"I lost a bet," he starts to explain, and he grins while he does it. "About how many gyshal pickles I could eat in one sitting. This was my loss condition. I had to rub the feet of any guy in the barracks that wanted it whenever they wanted it that wouldn't, you know, cause mission problems. For a month. I got good at what I was doing."

"Appreciate the compliment," she smiles at him. The compliment is appreciated, as is the foot massage. She's got a few blisters forming already from walking horribly in heels. Thinking back it might have been wise to try to break them in a bit first. Oh well.

She lets out a burst of laughter at his explanation "Ouch. Must've gotten a lot of takers. And a lot of people that probably never let that go."

Oh man, blisters from so little work? Zack absolutely feels bad for her. As a soldier he knew that the absolute most important tool of war to take care of before anything else was your feet. Weapons mattered, material was important to consider. Armor and other gear should be looked to as well. But NOTHING mattered like your feet. If you can't stand, you can't fight.

"Tons of takers. It was a military, Lorna. Everyone ABSOLUTELY was going to take advantage of that. So I don't blame them at all. I'd probably have done the same thing. Well, once. Then I woulda let the guy off the hook. But I was known as 'Feets' for a while."

She shakes her head in amusement. "Feets, huh? Should I take it up?" There's a smirk on her face that she vaguely tries to hide. It's a big smirk though, so it's pretty hard to keep it back. At least he had a good attitude about it, was almost impressive. It makes her wonder what exactly it would take to bring this guy down.

"Please don't, or I might have to stop," he says, working her foot still in his hand. He doesn't mind helping out after all.

As for what it would take to bring him down? Well, there's definitely a quanta of bullets that can do it.

"I'd rather you called me Zack."

"Well, I don't want that," she laughs and at this point actually starts to relax slightly. It's weird, she knows basically nothing about this guy and yet he's got this weirdly comforting feeling to him. Maybe it's just how at ease he seems with everything going on.

"Guess I'll have to stick with Zack. Other one suits you better I think."

"See, that's a REALLY good way to lose massage privileges forever, suggesting that the other name is better." Zack laughs, but he doesn't stop working anyway. He's being nice here.

But she's got the point and she's relaxing and that's wonderful.

"You danced yet tonight?"

She puts a hand up in defeat. "Hey, you win. I'll never mention the name again." Will she actually keep to that? Probably not. But she's selfish and doesn't want him to stop yet.

"Haven't yet. Would you believe nobody has asked me?" Maybe it's the resting bitch face that scares them off. "What about you?"

Well, nicknames tend to come up at the worst time. Which is right and good and just. Let them come out of nowhere, okay?

"Nobody's asked you?" That's horrible," Zack says in shock. They've got to find her a dance partner. Except... "I, uh, I can't dance."

"Real shocking, I know. You'd think people would be flocking to ask," she replies with a chuckle. Honestly, she'd been almost grateful people hadn't. She was comfortable being anti-social off on her own, which might ruin the point of a party.

She raises her eyebrows at his admission. "You can't dance? Surprising."

Well, actually, he would be shocked to think that they weren't. A pretty, confident, awesome lady like this? How dare they not? If he wasn't here and spoken for, he'd definitely offer. Except, of course, the two left feet thing.

"Really, is it? I'm from a small town and never had a reason to learn. I'm a swordsman, not a ballerina."

"Didn't know you had to be a ballerina to dance. Guess that knocks me out of it too." She gives an amused smirk. Now she feels like he might just be making up excuses to not try dancing because he might be bad at it.

She takes the line so literally and he laughs, shaking his head.

"You're going to make me dance, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'd never do something like that. Though, I am suspicious about if you really can't dance." Maybe she is trying to hint at it. Just maybe. Or maybe she's just teasing him. Even she's not quite sure, mostly she's just going with it.

Well then. Zack finishes with one foot and offers her shoe back.

"Let me take my dress shoes off so if I trod on you, I don't hurt you. Then we try, in here."

Because he doesn't want to make a fool of himself everywhere.

She takes the shoes back and groans as she starts to put them back on. Again she's wondering why she agreed to take these as her shoes to wear for the night. Should have just stuck with her steel toed boots.

"Guess I can settle for that. If you're really that self-conscious."

"Yeah, in some was I am. I know I'm going to make a fool of myself," Zack admits with a shrug as he starts pulling his own dress shoes off.

"I have faith in you not making a complete fool of yourself," she flashes a quick grin. Maybe it'll go better than he thinks. Or it'll be an amusing dancing disaster.

"But most of a fool of myself is okay?" he teases. Once his shoes are off and set aside he stands and offers his hand. "Shall we?"

"Most of a fool is a give in," she teases right back as she takes his hand. "We shall. You lead though." Just because she wants to see how terrible this will actually be.

Well, he wasn't sure he much knew how to follow anyway, so leading would work. He considers her carefully and then sets his hands where he thought he saw people doing it on the dance floor. So one on her shoulder and one on her back. Oops, already a flub.

"Okay, let's do this."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

oh, we dance in misery

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