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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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.

Imogen is there in his mind, but no one has eyes on Orym. That sends up a wave of worry. This was not part of the plan, clearly, but it's not something they can exactly ignore. Orym isn't the type to disappear mid mission, especially not when his part of the mission is making certain that Dorian is safe. Something has gone wrong.

As he's working his way through the crowd, Dorian will find himself met with someone deliberately stepping in his way. "Lord Wyvernwind, a moment?" And then, before Dorian could protest or brush past. "I have a message for you."

Dorian can’t help cursing to himself when Imogen confirms that no one knows what happened to Orym. He asks her to see if Chetney would be able to pick up his scent and for everyone to keep a lookout as he continues moving through the crowd.

And he berates himself that he hadn’t prepared for this. They had decided to present him as Brontë to put attention on him, but he should have considered that it could possibly make Orym a target too. How could he have been so stupid?

He’s heading to meet the others when a figure sudden steps in front of him. And he’s about to move around him when the words has him hesitating despite his impatience.

“…a message?”

Imogen assures Dorian that Chet will help and the group breaks into action as much as they can. Some of them are still caught up in the roles that they're playing for this particular mission. The frustration and concern in her tone is clear, even if she's trying to sound calm for Dorian's sake.

The messenger nods and holds out a folded piece of parchment. Once Dorian has taken it, the messenger bows and slips back into the crowd.

When Dorian opens the letter he'll find a short, simple note. 'Brontë Wyvernwind. If you want to see your little lover alive again, you'll meet us in the back gardens within the hour. Come alone or the only thing you'll find is his body.'

Dorian starts as the messenger slips away, but he can’t stop him from disappearing into the crowd. With another muttered curse, he looks at the parchment in his hands, hesitating for just a moment before finally unfolding it to read its contents.

And it’s honestly exactly as he expected, just as he feared. And despite having an idea that this is where it was all heading, he still can’t help the way his heart drops into his stomach, the edges of the parchment wrinkling where he grips it too tight.

Crumpling up the message, holding it in one angry fist, he calls out to Imogen again as he hurries to find the others. He certainly will be going to meet these people alone, he isn’t going to risk Orym for anything. But they have little time to come up with a plan, and he isn’t about to go in unprepared either.

Not with Orym’s life on the line.

Once he’s able to meet with the rest of the group and let them know what’s happening, there isn’t a lot of time before he has to head to the gardens, looking around for any sign of Orym or who might have taken him.

Orym is not out quite as long as his abductors had hoped, and there is a moment where the whole kidnapping and extortion plan almost fall to pieces. He overhears them talking, hears about their plans to get the access they need to the Silken Squall one way or another, even if they have to murder the Secondsun and put an impostor in his place. That's enough to stir him the rest of the way from magically induced sleep. No fucking way is he allowing that to happen. He spares a moment to snag the sending stone from his pocket, to activate it and reach out to Dorian in an urgent, whisper.

'You have to get out of here! They're after you and your family. Run! I'll find you once I-- ah!' The message ends abruptly in a cry of pain as the stone goes clattering to the floor, and Orym squares up to fight.

The halfling fighter might not have his weapons thanks to the rules of the ball, but that doesn't make him defenseless. He takes down two of his captors before reinforcements come and he finds himself entirely outnumbered.

His kidnappers are not so unarmed, and the tide turns too quickly. Orym finds himself bleeding and half broken on the floor. His captors honestly aren't entire sure whether or not he's even alive, but they still bind his hands and feet for good measure, stuff the small body into a chest and that's what Dorian will find when makes it to the prearranged meeting place in the garden -- a well dressed human perched on a stone bench beside a wooden trunk, sipping at what's left of a glass of wine.

The relief Dorian feels when the Sending Stone lights up and he hears Orym’s voice is short-lived when the message is abruptly cut off. Gripping the stone tightly in his hand, he finishes making the plans with the rest of Bells Hells before heading to the garden.

With an invisible Pâté following him nearby, Dorian steps into the garden and finds the man at the stone bench and eyes the wooden trunk.

Nails bite into his palms as he clenches his fists, trying to keep his voice level as he speaks, “As you requested, I’m here. Where’s Orym?”

He can only hope the others can find the rest of the group that he’s sure is hidden around the garden and take care of them. He just needs to keep this man’s attention on him for a while.

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THE MASQUERADE MEME - 2023

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