oh, we dance in misery

[headandhand]

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.

Comments

[cadiastands]

"Oh, good," Mira says, echoing the smile with a faint but genuine one of her own. "I blame the drinks. His drinks," she clarifies dryly, nodding in the direction of the reeling drunk she's just avoided.

[whosthemonsternow]

South's gaze follow the nod and fixes the drunk with a slight narrowing of her eyes, "I could break his fingers if you want, shouldn't be a rude ass no matter how much he's drank."

[cadiastands]

"That's...excessive," Mira demurs. "I appreciate the offer, but it's not worth disrupting the festivities over."

Not that she has a problem with disproportionate punishments for minor offenses, but that one would be a bit gauche.

[whosthemonsternow]

"Hey, I wasn't given stealth missions back home for no reason. I could easily slip him somewhere quiet and remove an entire limb." She nods, fancy party and nonsense dress or not, she'd do it.

[cadiastands]

"You're a soldier?" Mira changes the subject, both to keep the man's fingers intact and because she's genuinely interested. "I'm light infantry, myself."

They're not well enough acquainted--or acquainted at all--for Mira to feel comfortable asking why a fellow soldier would wear that impractical getup. Maybe if the conversation goes anywhere.

[whosthemonsternow]

South is entirely okay with the switch, she loves a chance to brag.

"Space Marine back home, joined the day I was legally allowed and been kicking ass every day since- well. Until coming here." She huffs with that, giving an eye roll, "I was lead to believe doing bodyguard duty for the Mayor would have some action but, nope. Just babysitting the old broad."

[cadiastands]

One of Mira's eyebrows goes up, but the mask hides it. The title must mean something different where South is from, because it's far too ludicrous a lie otherwise. She's very short for a Space Marine. And very chatty. And very female.

"You're from a time with space travel?" she asks. "That doesn't seem to be the norm here."

[whosthemonsternow]

"Space travel, space colonies, space station cities- you name it with space, and we've not only done it, but conquered it!" She boasts, shoulders lifting and back straightening with unnecessary pride, "Not a lot of people around here seem to have ever left their initial planet. I was born and raised far from Earth, and plenty of people were too, some even lived on space stations their whole lives. We're very advanced compared to most, apparently."

[cadiastands]

"I've never been to Terra myself," Mira says with a shrug. She's nowhere near important enough. "What millennium is it for you? So many people here seem to be from the third."

It must be before the Age of Strife, Mira thinks, trying to remember childhood history lessons, but that's still a good, what, 10,000 years? South is still calling Terra "Earth," so it's probably far back.

[whosthemonsternow]

"Yea, the third." She replies, a faint humored smile at the use of Terra. She knows the word, of course, and she's heard it tossed around a few times instead of "Earth", but. It was still funky, but hell, she likes hearing the woman say it.

Which, speaking of, "Oh, I'm South, by the way." She remembers to introduce herself, offering out a hand and another smile, a touch of cockiness to it because she still feels like hot shit talking about her oh so important life back home, "Agent South Dakota to be exact."

[cadiastands]

Mira accepts the handshake with a firm grip of her own. "Second Lieutenant Miranda Nero, 203rd Cadian regiment." You'd think she'd have stopped introducing herself like that by now, but you'd be wrong.

She doesn't react to South's name, because the Imperium is enormous and naming customs differ from world to world, or to her cockiness, because Mira is Cadian and could brag about more or less the same qualifications herself if she were so inclined.

[whosthemonsternow]

"Yeah, you got a shorter name?" She asks instead of seeing if she could get her to repeat it, as much as she'd like to hear the words in that voice again. She's awful but not that awful...right now.

She wouldn't have been surprised to hear a comment about her name, plenty of people have given her a weird look since it's a 'direction' or a 'state'. At least she would've taken it with a laugh, because it's a pretty lady.

[cadiastands]

"'Nero' is not a particularly long name," Mira says, only a little testy. Why do people keep making that joke?

[whosthemonsternow]

"Yea, true, but not a lot of people seem to like being called by their last names." She shrugs, offering the testy reply a lopsided smile.

[cadiastands]

"I don't mind." Civilians are weird and she refuses to be held responsible for their bad life choices, okay. "I don't expect everyone to go about calling me 'Lieutenant,'--" because she's realized they won't, not because she wouldn't prefer it if she thought she could get away with it "--but everyone here is far too familiar."

It's like you're not from a horribly stratified, classist dystopia or something.

[whosthemonsternow]

"I don't think very many here are military, all they know is being familiar, especially too familiar." She shrugs a bit, glancing around at all the people, "So just Nero, then?"