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

[sociallychallenged]

Well, if Loki should ever be so lucky to take someone under his wing, Hank is at least pretty damn sure he'll do better in being an adoptive father than most of the assholes out there. Pay forward his experiences to someone else's benefit. But that's a conversation for a less dour, more private, mood appropriate setting.

But the question actually makes Hank laugh genuinely, wide and broad. "Oh hell, no. The only artistic thing about me is what some psychologist might read into my sticky notes."

And it's true. Take any book of his, and there's stickers with kitschy and catty remarks, or his own scrawled, sarcastic post-it notes. The occasional prideful thing. A Detroit reminder, there's no sports teams he's attached to here but he has a few beers he's become fond of.

"Gotta love 'em for the differences, too." And be damn happy they're good at something you're not.

[morethanatrickster]

Gotta love 'em for the differences, too, he said, and made it sound so simple. For all their simplicity and short lifespans, humans were capable of a clarity of vision that often clouded that of longer lived races. Gods, he was starting to sound like his brother. He shook his head.

"I suppose it's necessary, yes, but enough talk of what is lost, yes?" His task done, and accepted for all appearances, Loki stood, looking back to his friend. "Care to join a quest for a drink?"

[sociallychallenged]

"Oh fuck yeah, I'm sick of fuckin' standing around. I might as well grab another before getting the hell out of here," Hank says. Just one more, though, so he doesn't go home completely shitfaced.

Honestly, he doesn't even realize he's encountered a problem over half of women in any western population have run into. Set things up and get pretty just so their date can end up too busy.

Every guy needs occasional slaps of empathy, though.