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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

With a smile, the tension in his shoulders seem to ease more as he leans into that touch, returning the kiss while he can.

“I love you.”

"I know," Orym answers, a playful lilt to his voice before he continues, earnestly. "I love you too."

He leans his forehead to Dorian's once more, lingering in this quiet moment between the two of them. "Guess we should head back inside, huh? Maybe we can grab a drink."

Dorian snickers a little, bouncing Orym in his arms before slipping him a quick kiss.

He basks in the quiet moment between them, enjoying the halfling’s presence, until Orym suggests heading back inside. With an exaggerated sigh, he nods.

“I suppose we should,” he eventually replies, with all the put-upon petulance of his noble upbringing. With another quick kiss, he then slowly sets Orym on his feet. “I could probably use a drink to endure the rest of the night, honestly.”

The halfling laughs, a quiet sound mostly lost in the next moment with that kiss. Once he's on his feet, he nods. "You and me both."

He steps forward and moves to draw back the curtain that's kept them secreted away on the balcony this long, gesturing for Dorian to go ahead. Back into the fray they go.

As Orym parts the curtain, Dorian hesitates for a moment, releasing a slow breath to keep himself steady. Then, tossing the loose hair over his shoulder, he lifts his head as he once again takes on the persona of an important noble, stepping back into the hall.

He can feel a few eyes watching him, but he does his best not to be obvious as he glances around, trying to see who was paying attention.

Orym falls into step at Dorian's side, a step behind, and he takes the moment to look around. Their absence has been noticed it seems, but the murmurs and whispers seem to mostly be interested more than anything else. Good.

What he doesn't notice are the eyes watching him with a bit too much interest, because that's not something he's looking for. "I'll get us both a drink, my lord." Because really, they both could use one. A quick, perfectly polite bow with a quicker but far less polite and more playful little smile before he turned to head off.

Dorian does his best to listen to the surrounding whispers, trying to catch them on the wind that gently drifts around him. So far things seem to be going as expected.

When Orym offers to get a drink, he gives a brief nod but says nothing, as if it’s to be expected. And he tries to follow Orym amongst the crowd for a while, but soon is pulled into a conversation with someone he knows he’s not going to remember, wanting to discuss some political thing that he could care less about.

Orym makes certain to keep an eye on Dorian even as he heads to get the drinks he's promised. So far it seems as if things are continuing to go to plan. The halfling isn't going to chance something happening to the other man though. Not an option.

What he hasn't even considered is that in this strange little charade they have going on, that somehow he's become a target. That's how they get the drop on him, how for one moment he's starting his way back towards Dorian and in the next, the two glasses are hitting the ground and shattering -- the only sound or commotion. It's a well executed grab. Orym finds himself abruptly surrounded, outnumbered. And it's subtle, in the middle of the crowd. A sharp blow to his stomach that steals the air from his lungs. He can't call out in time, and then a spell follows, and the halfling finds himself slipping straight out of consciousness, and he's spirited away.

It’s difficult to hear the shattering glass among the noise of the party, but it does draw some of the crowd’s attention, including Dorian’s. Nothing seems immediately out of place, though, as servants are already rushing in to clean up the mess.

As he glances around, though, he realizes that he doesn’t see Orym anywhere. Confusion turns into worry as he scans the ballroom, but there is no sign of the halfing anywhere.

Panic starts to rise in his chest, and he quickly excuses himself as he moves through the crowd, hoping Imogen is still holding a connection with him to see if she or the others saw anything.

THE MASQUERADE MEME - 2023

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