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.

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"Shouldn't I worry for a friend?" Rinoa's eyebrows raise as her smile lessens, though retains the same warmth. Perhaps he's too prideful for such a thing. He doesn't need her to worry, of course. To her, it's simply natural to do so. But she decides he probably doesn't need that driven home. Besides, when he continues, it's pretty easy to forget anything about worrying.

Or maybe it's that she's getting a better look at him. He's handsome. Still.

Wait. Did he just call her 'darling'? Rinoa's never had anyone call her that and after a moment's confusion, she decides it's probably a compliment. She'll have to think about it a little more deeply later. Maybe. Maybe not. Loki seems to enjoy provoking reaction from her, so maybe that's the reason for the address. "Please," she begins, unable to keep herself from turning pink. Thank Hyne for that mask she can hide behind. "It's just a dress. You'd probably look pretty great in it."

At his invitation, she tips her head. "You dance? Oh... I guess if you're a prince, that... would make sense. At least, all the princes I've read about had danced. At least once."

A friend. He'd had so few of them throughout his life it was still strange to hear someone describe themselves as such. What was more, she was something of a kindred spirit, with the sorcery and the judgement. It was a strange perspective, but he wasn't going to put too much thought into it. Far easier, after all, to simply enjoy the evening than to think too much on the implications beyond.

He laughs at her implication, and it's one that actually touches his eyes. "I likely would, but why would I steal your spotlight?" And he continues, with a nod, "I do. Do you?"

"My spotlight," she replies as she eyes him appreciatively. Shaking her head, she laughs. The only time she's ever wanted spotlight was when she was doing something for someone else. Timber pops into mind and its declaration of independence. Attempted declaration, anyway. And when she really thinks on it? Rinoa's never really asked for any kind of special attention.

...There's absolutely no reason that should start right now.

She realises he's asked her a question and snaps out of her thoughts, though it's more like they linger somewhere in a proverbial background. "Yeah," she finds her words again. "My father said it was expected of me." After a moment's pause, she continues, "He's the general of the military faction of where I'm from. I guess dancing and other like things are a requirement for living in that kind of world."

...Social politicking, she means, and there's plenty of it. Only one reason of many as to why she tried to leave home as quickly as she could. And her father's name behind with it.

"They are," and he adds a slight bob of his head to accentuate that particular bit of information. He leans in closer, though, almost conspiratorially, his expression one that heartily suggests he's going to share some sort of state secret with her. When he speaks, his voice is low, hushed. "A secret: I've also hated those feasts."

It isn't even an exaggeration or a claim to the contrary of truth. He'd always found the feasts to be flamboyant for no reason and seemingly in existence merely to impress the foreign dignitaries.

He takes her hand and begins to lead her out to the dance floor. "I take it your father didn't approve of your disapproval?"

He leans in and Rinoa can't help being on edge just a little bit. She lives with the guy, but it's not like they go invading each others' space on a regular basis. But what he says right into her ear makes her crack a smile. Who knows what that must look like to an outside party ~~like a jealous boyfriend that's spying on her~~. It's all so stuffy and haughty. Rinoa agrees more than she's even going to bother to say.

"That's because they're for rich people who think they're important and want to do everything they can to showcase just how important they are." She shakes her head in disapproval, "It's ridiculous. And you know, when they have those, they only ever talk about themselves—how they can improve things for themselves and their kind. Like there's no world that exists outside of them and their benefits." She's a revolutionary. She's a rebel. She's an activist, and maybe to some, a potential terrorist. It's hard not to get heated about that stuff.

When he asks about Caraway, however, she pauses rather abruptly, even as he takes her onto the floor. Is it her imagination, or does her hand tighten upon his? It probably does a little. "My father doesn't approve of much of anything I do." It's flatly delivered. Seems like nothing she's ever done has been what he wanted of her. What he expected of her. It's a bad scene to paint when she's supporting rebellion against something he operates.

"Well, in the case of visiting dignitaries, they're noblemen who desire to garner the most favor from the throne, but yes, the same sentiment applies."

So many stuffy men and women throughout the course of his life trying to get the attention of the princes in order to win favor with their father. So many disappointed when Loki, at least, gave them little in the way of praise.

He smiles at her response, through, looking over at the gentle squeeze of her hand. "Oh, my father never approved of me, either...or things I've done. Thankfully, their opinions are not the only ones to exist." Even if they are, seemingly, the most important.

Rinoa tries to recollect if she's really met anyone who could be classified as a dignitary or a nobleman. There's the president of Esthar, but he's... admittedly a very relaxed kind of guy. Not what she thinks of when she thinks of someone with title. Aside from her father and probably someone like the late President Deling, she can't seem to think of anyone who fits the bill. But then she's tried to avoid those types for a good chunk of her activist lifestyle (which admittedly hasn't been that long).

As Loki continues, she eyes him with a subtle respect. A familiarity. Once more, they have something in common. Maybe it's not just coincidence that they were paired together for residence. But it seems silly to try connecting fate or predestination to stuff like that. She shouldn't think it more than it is, really.

"Well, I think you're pretty cool," she begins somewhat dumbly. "It might not count for much, but at least it's there."

He laughs, grinning broadly as he watches her. A kindred spirit? Perhaps, but still mortal. He'd never had much of a connection with them. Something about this one kept his attention, though it may have been the inheritance of her power. It was actually difficult to say.

In truth, he was finding a friend, but he'd had so few, he didn't recognize it as such at least, not yet.

"I'm 'cool'? I suppose I should thank you for the compliment."

Rinoa mirrors him, an easy baring of teeth in reciprocation before she starts laughing. "I don't know what you're supposed to call a prince when you like them. Let me remind you that before you I'd never met a prince outside of a book. You're gonna have to educate me where I'm wrong." Without actually telling her that she's wrong because no matter how optimistic she might be, she still doesn't like hearing that kind of stuff. Evidently she too, is not infallible.

"I just mean that... I like you. I like your company. It's nice to have some friends here who aren't from my world." A pause. "Not that there's anything wrong with them, you know? Just that things get complicated and there's some history there, so you're a breath of fresh air and I need that. So uhm. Thanks. For being here and giving me a distraction."

If Loki had tried, he's fairly certain he couldn't have explained it better himself. That was it precisely. There was so much history with his family, friends, anyone from home, really. Here, with her, he could simply be Loki and that was enough. He chuckles, looking down for a brief moment before gently shaking his head.

"Loki will suffice. In fact I insist." He looked up again, meeting her eye with an easy smile. "Or friend. I'll also answer to that."

Loki will suffice, he says. Like it's really that simple. It's not. He's so down-to-earth. That's not what she expects from a prince. Not that she knows what to expect from a prince. Loki is really raising the bar, here.

"Aaaah, stop that," she replies with a laugh. "I'm getting embarrassed. I'll do my best, though. Just Loki. You don't like people being formal with you?"

"I don't like people assuming a required formality to honor a kingdom they've never heard of." He'd tried wearing the hat of a false ruler before, and he's since found it ill-fitting. "We have more important things to attend to than regency, wouldn't you agree?"

Rinoa pauses a moment and can't help but frown in slight. To her it seems like common sense to try to be a little more respectful, even when it comes to a kingdom she's never heard of. To be disrespectful is almost like saying just because she's never heard of it, it doesn't exist. And for many reasons that's close-minded and terrible behaviour.

"I guess you're ultimately right. I was just trying to make a good impression. Like you know, being a good friend and all of that. Part of being a good friend means trying to understand other people, especially when their traditions might be different from your own. At least, that's how it would be to me."

She finds herself smiling again, "But. What you want is important to me. So whatever will make you happy, Loki, is what I will do."

"Well, then, you should know that being a prince of Asgard does not necessarily mean you will be the king of Asgard. Also, Asgard was destroyed and I shall never see my world again." While his words should sound saddened, they're spoken more like someone who just commented on the weather, or stated the obvious fact of water being wet.

"Your friendship is enough." He had far too few friends of late and he welcomed it.

"Actually... Well, no. I guess you're right. Princes aren't the same things as kings," Rinoa replies after a moment's consideration. She has a mind to continue, but when Loki explains that his world has been destroyed, she abruptly stops. Is it possible to be a prince of... nothing? And she knows, at least for a sliver before she can compose herself, that her expression is catastrophically obvious. But that's her. She wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn't always think to hide things.

Or just isn't in the habit of doing so unless it's really dire.

She wants to ask. She desperately wants to, but... She somehow refrains. He probably likes humour more. Let him divulge to her on his terms. If he wants to tell her about it, he will, and she wholly believes that. "Wow, if you keep that up, you're gonna make me blush. And then people are gonna think you're flirting with me." And then he might get beat up.

He scoffs at her accurate observation, shaking his head. "Quite right, and more than you know." Even after everything, though the old wounds were indeed healing, it still stung to think of all the times he'd been lied to, all the times his father had every intention of making Thor his heir only to give him false hope.

He laughs, though, at her crestfallen expression. "Asgard is not a place. Asgard is her people. Father was adamant, and it...is truer than we ever knew. What of us remain will endure, and will rebuild."

And then that laugh turns into a suggestive smirk. "And if they believe that? What of it?"

Somehow she's not sure his explanation makes it any better, really. She doesn't know very much about how monarchies work, but books tend to imply that a ruler's power comes from the people, so without people to lead... can one even call themselves a ruler? She only lets her expression remain like so for some moments before her lips purse together.

"What of us remain will endure, and will rebuild."

At least he sounds confident. Rinoa suspects that's just simply the kind of person he is, though, quite likely the sort to feign it even if he doesn't wholly believe it. Fake it until one makes it, right?

Although the reaction to her evident teasing catches her by surprise. "...H-huh? What? Er. You're teasing me, right? You've gotta be. I think my friends might get a little overprotective. When I told them I wanted them to meet you, none of them seemed particularly interested. Well, maybe one. But the other two..." She frowns thoughtfully. "I think they just assume I'll get myself in trouble while getting to know people here."

Because her history seems to be riddled with poor choices.

He chuckles, a teasing tone to his voice. He has a few ideas as to who may take offense to their association, but he'll keep his guesses to himself at the moment. He does roll his shoulder in a slight shrug, though, not committing to either being serious or not and instead leave it up to interpretation.

"They wouldn't be wrong. Many tribes of men in my homeland consider me a god, you know. Of mayhem."

"God of Mayhem. First you're a prince and now you're a god."

Rinoa pauses and after a moment, dark eyebrows knit together thoughtfully. "Is it possible to be both?" And beyond that, what is it that she's ever thought when it comes to higher powers? Hyne, certainly. That's not even a myth. Just a plain, undisputed fact. But she suspects that's not really the same thing as a god.

...What does she believe in? Who does she believe in? Or does she simply believe in nothing but the power in her own hands?

"I've read books about unforgiving gods. If you're a god, what kind are you? Besides one who likes to cause mayhem."

"Can gods not have princes or kings?" He grins, laughing lightly. He was toying with her slightly of course. She had no knowledge of their existence, being from another universe. Somehow, that made it sweeter rather than more sour.

"Well, humans call me the god of mischief, of strife, of destruction and chaos, revolution, and fire." He rolls his shoulder in a shrug. "They also often blame me for any false step of their own. I can't influence another's actions...well...that isn't true, but I really don't care to most of the time." And he laughs. Is he serious? Who knows...

"I don't know. Can they?" Her eyebrows rise. She has no idea. That's obvious, though. Why should she know the technicalities between princes and kings and gods? Yet he doesn't seem to be put off by it. Perhaps he finds it charming.

He rattles off his titles and Rinoa can't help looking a mite impressed. He really does sound like he's from a book when he puts it like that. "Did you say that you were held responsible for stupid things other people have done? Right. Because no one wants to take responsibility for their mistakes. I guess it would be easier to blame a god. A prince. Anyone who isn't the person in question. You don't seem offended by this, though. In fact, you almost seem proud."

"What you perceive as gods are simply not human, Rinoa. Of course we have princes and kingdoms. Well, empires really."

He laughs. "Everyone wants to blame another for their shortcomings. Why not the trickster god? 'I didn't miss, it was Loki playing tricks'." He sighs, shaking his head. "My brother, though? Thor, God of Thunder and War. All the glory for my darling brother."

Rinoa... doesn't really know what she perceives as gods. When she really starts to think about it, she's not sure she's ever given much credence to celestial beings or supreme rulers. Especially after the whole becoming a sorceress thing... She believes in Hyne's power and it's possible she might not have if she didn't acquire it for herself. Inherit it, really. She never asked for this. She never really wanted this. She's still not exactly sure why she was the one chosen.

A spot of random fortune, evidently.

He's spoken of his brother before and it seems each time he does so, he does it with a hint of distaste. She has no siblings and possesses no ability to compare that kind of life to one where she's been an only child. Things may have been different if she did have a sister or a brother, but there's just no way to tell. Considering her family history has been complicated and largely dysfunctional, she can't help but think she'd want the opportunity to have a good familial relationship if it was available to her. (It's too late for her and her father, she's sure.)

"You don't get along with him?" she asks, looking a little sympathetic. "With Thor, I mean. You've mentioned him before."

You seem a little jealous, maybe.

"Quite the contrary...well, in the past, at the least." There was once a time when Loki and Thor had been the best of friends, even Loki will admit that. When they were boys, they got each other equally into and out of trouble, but in the back of Loki's mind, he'd always been competing with his older brother for the throne, and by association, for their father's love.

In the end, though, he'd learned the truth, if only a little too late: Thor had never seen the two of them at odds. Thor had never seen Loki as anything other than his little brother, sometimes a nuisance but always loved.

"We...grew apart, I suppose. He was chosen to rule our kingdom, and I found out I was adopted. I tried to take over the Earth." He waves a hand, smiling dismissively. "It's a rather long story, but needless to say, we've been at odds more often than not of late."

Then they were friends once. Or rather, on friendly terms, which isn't always the same thing. Rinoa may not always be good at 'making nice,' in spite of whatever attempts she makes, but she does understand there's a difference between making nice and actually being nice or thinking of another with a particular set of niceties in mind.

She suspects that she doesn't need to try applying that to Loki, of all people. He's older and while she doesn't subscribe to the newsletter that elders are necessarily wiser, just a few conversations with Loki and she's willing to agree that he is probably smarter and more worldly than she is.

"Oh, so you're not even..." They're not even actually related. Rinoa's expression falls before she can prevent it from doing any such thing. But after a moment's consideration, she reminds herself that he doesn't want her pity and she owes him better than that. In consequence, she straightens up, and the features of her face resume something akin to Rinoa Normalcy. "I see. That sounds hard. Do you sometimes wish he was here? I know it might be silly to think like that, but there's always that possibility that he'll show up here. If he did, maybe you guys would be able to rekindle something from your past. If it was what you wanted, anyway."

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