happilyeverbeginning | THE MASQUERADE MEME

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THE MASQUERADE MEME - 2023

You’re invited to a Masquerade
One night only, let yourself escape
Make your way as black cats serenade
You’re invited to a Mysterious Masquerade!

THE MASQUERADE MEME

In the simplest of terms, a masquerade is a masked dance, and that’s what this meme is all about! Pop on a simple domino mask that goes around the eyes or go with a full brand-new ensemble, gather in a gigantic ballroom, and let the music take you away. Though this trope is a tale as old as time, there’s many ways to go about it! You know the usual rules – pop a character with any preferences or leave it blank, and go for it! Mix and match prompts or make your own!

Royal Regalia

The royal family is throwing one hell of a shindig in order to get their prince/princess to find a worthy bride/groom, or maybe the lucky one is already hitched and celebrations are underway! Has Cinderella been invited to this ball or did she stumble in by accident? Maybe you’ll meet your one true love without realizing the crown comes with the mask!

Supernatural Sides

Get a taste of the macabre when all the monsters show up for this mash! Perhaps it’s a Vampires Only party with you as the special exception. (Or their dinner!) Are the witches and warlocks gathered to perform a special spell once every hundred years? Or you thought this was an ordinary humans-all ball, just to discover your elaborate costumes are taking over your own personality!

Criminal Caper

Bring this party to modern times with this take on Ocean’s 11! You (and maybe your gang!) are here to steal something or someone precious, and everyone has a role to play. Observe the crowd, blend into the crowd, or be the major distraction. On the flip side, you may be the eager detective trying to finally get the cuffs on your target. There could be a huge UST blow-up if criminal and copper wind up in a dance – especially if they don’t recognize each other!

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It isn't lost on Orym that Dorian keeps having to step back into the life and identity that he'd deliberately left behind. The halfling makes a note that one of these days, he will have to take the bard out somewhere fancy where he could just enjoy it as the person he is, not the person he used to believe he had to be.

For now though, they have their reasons to be here, the way that they are.

That doesn't mean Orym isn't paying attention to Dorian, to how on edge he seems. Especially when he jumps at the touch. "Yeah, good idea. There's a balcony... I could use a breather too."

He steps back and to the side just enough to gesture for Dorian to lead on so he can follow, behind and just to his right, where a good bodyguard would be.

With a slight nod, Dorian manages to hold his head high for long enough to cross the ballroom to get to the balcony doors.

Once he steps outside, though, away from all the judgmental eyes, his shoulders sag as he releases a deep sigh. He removes his mask to run a hand down his face, then grips the balcony railing as he leans heavily against it, his head hanging as he tries to focus on just breathing.

Orym lets the drapes that keep the balcony a rather private little alcove fall shut behind him, turning in time to see Dorian lean so heavily on the railing. He frowns and with a nimble leap, hops up on the railing beside the genasi. He balances there easily, setting a hand lightly against Dorian's head, fingers sifting gently through his hair.

"Hey, you've got this. And I've got you. Just breathe."

Though he doesn’t look up, he still nods a little as he leans into Orym’s touch.

“Y-Yeah…Yeah, I know. I’m fine.”

A bold lie, obviously. But they still have so much to do, and they were relying on him.

He can’t afford to not be fine.

"No you're not," Orym murmurs quietly, fingers continuing what he hopes is a soothing touch through Dorian's hair. "But you will be." He knows that Dorian would manage this, that they'll both pull it together.

They can afford a moment or two to breathe and gather themselves. Dorian had caught the eyes and attention of the people he needed to. Out here they were alone, the music from inside the only thing that really made its way to reach them.

"Dance with me, Dorian?"

Dorian sighs, closing his eyes as the touch does soothe him, even just a little bit.

“I have to be. We still have so much left to do.”

Though he doesn’t make any move to head back inside just yet, just enjoying the quiet with Orym aside from the bit of music they could hear from inside the dance hall.

The request has him blinking his eyes open again, and he glances at Orym in surprise.

“What?”

"Dance with me," he repeats, stepping back, more or less dancing along the railing, unworried about the rather steep fall over the outer edge. He holds out a hand towards him, a smile playing over his lips and green eyes dancing behind his mask.

He inclines his head towards the curtain. "We've got a little privacy. And besides, if anyone sees us, it'll give them something to talk about, right? Wouldn't be the first time a guard's fallen in love with the one he's protecting."

Watching Orym for a moment, Dorian eventually manages a weak chuckle. He seems unsure, though, his hand just shy of taking Orym’s as indecision keeps him frozen.

“Orym, I…I don’t think we really have time for this.”

The argument feels a bit weak, though, because more than anything he wants to. He didn’t have a chance to dance with Orym the last time they attended a ball, and it would be nice to let go for just a moment.

The problem, it seems, is that he’s having trouble letting go. That keeping the guise of Brontë is holding him back.

The fighter waits patiently. Well, more or less patiently. He keeps his hand extended, head canting to the side as he watches him. He thinks he can see it, the struggle in the other man's face.

"We have time for a dance. We've never danced together before."

A pause and he adds, quiet but earnest. "I want to dance with my boyfriend." With Dorian Storm, not Brontë Wyvernwind.

Dorian’s heart skips at the words; even with the time they’ve been together, there was still something that feels just as amazing about hearing it spoken now, as it had when they’d first confessed their feelings for each other. That Orym could feel the same way about him that he feels for the other man.

It’s enough that it allows him to finally shed that last layer of his Brontë persona, and he finally takes Orym’s hand.

“I would love to have a dance with my boyfriend.”

Orym brightens visibly as Dorian takes his hand, his fingers curling around the genasi's in turn, urging him closer. Like this, with the railing, he's right around Dorian's eye level. It may be a little strange to dance along the railing, but the halfling is certain they could make it work.

"Good. Because I've been thinking about it all night."

As he coaxes Dorian closer, into the posture of a dance, he adds, "I was getting a little cranky about everyone fawning over you. I mean, I get why, but..." But he's fighting a small possessive streak.

Dorian’s expression brightens a bit at that as well, as he steps closer to get into position. They can only step from side to side with Orym on the railing, but honestly it was still better than nothing.

“Have you really?”

He knows that extravagant events like this aren’t really Orym’s thing. So he can’t help feeling touched by the fact that Orym wanted to dance at all, and dancing with him meant so much.

Though he can’t help frowning a little as Orym admits how he feels about all the attention on him. “I know, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I definitely haven’t been enjoying it either.”

Especially because these people didn’t know him. They weren’t impressed with him, but with his name and his title. With what power or money they thought he had to throw around.

"Yeah. I have. And someday... maybe we come to one of these fancy things without having to play pretend, so everyone can see that how lucky I am to have such a handsome boyfriend on my arm." The fighter is, after all, very proud of the fact that Dorian is his, and that he's Dorian's. The bard is right, extravagant parties and equally fancy clothes are not his comfort zone exactly, but he knows Dorian likes it, and that is more than enough for him.

He shakes his head at the apology. "Nothing for you to apologize for. I'm sorry you got stuck playing bait again."

At least they have this, this small stolen moment to catch their breath and dance with one another to the music that spills out into their private balcony.

Even in the low light of the evening, Orym might notice the flush the lights up Dorian’s face, touched that the halfling would be willing to attend another one of these for no reason, other than he knew Dorian wanted to go.

That Orym would endure something like this just to make him happy was one of the many reasons he so loved this man.

He manages a small shrug in return. “You know I’m happy to help, however I can. I just…wish it didn’t always have to be this way, you know?” His steps slow in their movements as he glances off to the side. “Sometimes…I wonder if maybe I would be more help if I just stayed as Brontë…”

Orym reaches up to set a hand against the bard's cheek, to urge him to look back to him. He waits until Dorian meets his gaze once more before he shakes his head. "No way. We love you as the real you, the you we know. I love you, Dorian Storm. I especially like when you're happy, and you never seem happy like this."

Dorian deserves to be who he wants to be, not who he thinks he should be. And Orym means it. They all care about him, Bell's Hells, the Crown Keepers.

Dorian draws a breath as Orym lifts his gaze to meet his eyes once again, and he can’t help the conflicted expression that passes over his face.

“I love you too, Orym. That’s why I want to do what I can to help you and the others. And I just…think I could do more to help like this. If I had easier access to my family’s name and money all the time…wouldn’t it just make it easier for us to get into places?”

He sighs softly, his steps finally falling still as he rests his head on Orym’s shoulder. “And even with this person I’ve supposedly become…it’s still so easy to fall back into this role. To be Brontë again, even after being away from home for so long. What if I’ve just fooling myself with all this? What if all this time, I’ve just been running from the person I really am?”

"It might open doors," the halfling answers honestly enough, hand lingering against Dorian's face, touching lightly. "But so what? We open doors just fine on our own. And so does the sweet, charming bard we all love. I've seen your smile charm secrets out of people. I've felt it charm all sorts of thing out of me. Has since I met you."

And really, he still has no defense for it.

As their steps still, he wraps his arms around Dorian properly, fingers running through his hair. "I don't think Brontë and Dorian have to be so separate. Your past is always part of who you are, but it doesn't have to be all you are. You're you, who you're becoming every day. And you chose to leave the safe, sheltered space you grew up in, chose to step out into the world, chose to step up and help. With Opal and the others. With me, coming so far to help me track down leads. With the rest of us too, being with us to help, even when you're doing something that makes you uncomfortable. Someday, I'm going to get you to see yourself how I see you. That'll really be something."

Dorian releases a shaky sigh, closing his eyes as the feeling of Orym’s fingers sending a light tingle across his scalp.

“Mm…I don’t know. I’m worried about…losing myself the longer I’m here.” He shakes his head, drawing back from Orym a bit. “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just being overdramatic.”

He loosens his hold enough that Dorian back draw back, but doesn't really want to let him go entirely if he's given the choice.

A shake of his head. "Don't apologize. I know this is hard."

His expression is still a smile, but there's something that's almost worried in it around the edges.

"I'm not letting you get lost, not without getting found anyway." It is selfish of him, in its way, Orym thinks. After all, if Dorian gives up being Dorian, goes back to his family and the Silken Squall, and to being Brontë Wyvernwind and not Dorian storm, what place would there be for a little halfling Ashari with nothing to his name but his sword and shield?

Dorian at least stays close enough to remain in the circle of Orym’s arms, just pulls back enough to meet his eyes. He manages a smile in return, small and faint as it is.

“Honestly, you’re the only thing that’s kept me grounded all evening. It’s just been difficult, having to act like you’re nothing more than just some hired help. That I can barely look at you without worrying what all those other people think and risk blowing our cover. It hurts, being so close and having to act like we’re such worlds apart…but I can’t stand not having you beside me either.”

Something about that has Orym's heart simultaneously aching and fluttering. His expression turns almost sheepish at that, as if he feels bad at the relief that rushes through him hearing Dorian say it, that any worry he has about not fitting in to Dorian's life is unfounded.

A hand lifts to settle against Dorian's cheek, thumb caressing along the line of his cheekbone. He's beautiful, but that beauty is only a small fraction of why Orym adores him. "You and I know better, right? No matter what all those people in there think we are... you're my whole heart, Dorian."

He adds, thinking. "Really, it wouldn't blow our cover so much as stir up a lot of gossip, if you got caught having a secret, illicit tryst with your bodyguard. Might even help with the distraction..." And Orym looks like he's considering it.

Dorian’s eyes drift shut at the touch of that hand, and he turns into it as if starved for the gentle affection. “You’re mine as well. That’s why it’s been so hard, having to act otherwise.”

The words have Dorian opening his eyes again, laughing softly. “It certainly would put a lot of attention on me.” Which really has been the goal, getting eyes on him to draw their target’s notice.

"See? It's actually a pretty excellent plan."

With that he winds his arms around Dorian's shoulders and more or less hops into his arms -- or he hopes into his arms. He's going to wrap his legs around him too, so either way, have a halfling.

"And when we get back to the inn tonight, we're getting our own room. I am very eager to get you out of these clothes."

Dorian can’t help a surprised sound as he suddenly finds his arms full of halfling, and he secures his hold around him to make sure he doesn’t fall. Then he laughs, resting his forehead against Orym’s again.

“Mm…honestly, nothing would make me happier.”

Orym looks thrilled at that laughter, unwinding one arm from around Dorian's neck so he can brush his fingertips along the bard's cheek. He lifts his chin to catch those lips in a kiss.

"Good. Me too."

They could take it all off, the clothes and everything they symbolized, until it was just the two of them. And then Orym would remind Dorian of just how fully and completely he was wanted and loved.

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