2024-12-27 - Winter Ball: The Arrival

A body of almost all black strides up towards the red carpet, every feature obscured by a mostly uniform black fabric that clings tightly to his form. There are wisps of barely there fabric that cling along the periphery, giving the impression that rather than having true borders, the shape simply drifts out into nothingness.

Where the color appears is in the mask itself. If such a thing can be called a mask.

While the man's face is obscured and covered in that same breathable black fabric, upon his head rests a mask, upside down. Cast in a bone colored white, the mask is upside down, a figure of a smiling skull, which tapers down, or up in this case, to a neck, and then a set of shoulders. An entire body clad in a white formal suit runs up from the top of the man's head. And as he moves, so too does the mask. Or helmet. Or other body.

As his left leg steps forward, the right leg of the figure above him moves in the same direction. As he raises his right and to have, the left arm of the figure about shifts awkwardly but in some respects following that wave.

Those standing behind him will see, faint but visible, wires running down along the arms and legs of the mask above, connecting into the black suit of the man below it.

After a few moments of making simple gestures that were repeated by the figure above him, the Shadow stries into the dance as "the body casting the shadow" walks on the air, a perfect mirror reflection of the costumed man.

Perhaps a little overboard for just a masquerade, but this is Tank we are talking about.

Ty and Lennox enter together.

Ty steps inside the grand entrance hall looking like a ball of sunshine in contrast to the person who’s hand he’s holding. There’s a bit of nervous energy buzzing around him, as seen in the way he’s bouncing on the heels of his black dress shoes. Sucking in a breath, he holds it, then looks up at Lennox.

He’s scared.

But in the outfit department? Killing it. Ty’s in a very well tailored gold suit with silver swirls of embroidery on it. There are glittery beads and crystals sewn in as well, giving it a bit of a sparkle when he catches the light just right. A black shirt under the jacket adds some contrast, the top three buttons of which have been left undone for drama. The trousers match the jacket. Golden. Shiny. Bright.

As for the actual mask— it’s of the domino variety, in gold with silver embellishments that match Ty’s jacket. The eye holes are generously proportioned and leave plenty of space to actually see who’s in there, which may defeat the purpose of MYSTERY but oh well. If one can’t tell it’s Ty from the moppy brown hair and below average height, they probably just haven’t met him before.

He lets out that held breath in one big whoosh.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Lennox looks like the night in comparison to the ball of sunshine at his side, whose fingers are laced with his own as he lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of Ty's. He can feel the nervous energy radiating from him. Lennox, on the other hand, has that kind of cool detachment and sly sidelong smile that he employs with skill at the Spider Walk. He's steady, and gives Ty a moment before they step onto the red carpet.

He's dressed in a black formal jacket with gold embellishments along the shoulders and down the front, a bit more at the cuffs for a little added drama. Beneath, a black silk shirt with added gold embroidery that give a kind of military-esque closure, the top similarly unbuttoned, giving him room to breathe. No fancy neckwear to be found. His trousers are black as are his shoes, just a faint hint of that gold embellishment down the outside of each pant leg, fitted to his lean tall figure. His mask is a black domino affair with similar gold swirls, blue eyes gleaming from behind it.

Leaning in, he murmurs against Ty's ear, "Drinks. Then a dance. It's going to be a fantastic night."

This was probably the most elegant affair that Avery had ever had the pleasure of attending. Her very first masquarde to be sure. Sure, she'd been to black tie events and put on formal wear for one reason or another. But this? This had a red carpet with photographers. Feeling like a celebrity, it needed the perfect dress. To say that she was excited was an understatement. It had taken her weeks to track down a dress that she thought would be suitable enough for something this glamorous.

The dress was white with diamond-like rhinestones that caught the light of the flashes from the camera. The mask was the same color as her white dress, intricate diamond-like stones outlined her eyebrows and forehead like a crown. You couldn't see the shoes when she was standing still, but when she moved? Those things caught the light just as much as her dress did.

Dramatic was the theme of the night for her and her thick black cat-eye eyeliner and bold red lips that contrasted the stark white of her outfit was just that. Dramatic. Dark left down in old Hollywood style waved curls.

Standing with a dazzling smile she posed for photographs before she went right inside to start a fabulous night.

Rosemary walks along the red carpet, likely living out her princess fairytale dream with a dress in a cocktail gown that absolutely cannot get ruined because it has to be returned the next day. The frost blue number is silk and chiffon with a sleeveless bodice and subtly flared skirt, trimmed all over in silver and beads. Matching, but detached, quarter sleeves are reversed, covering her lower arms and bottom half of her forearms, leaving her shoulders exposed. The mask is a simple, but elegantly matching affair. She's even managed to procure a mostly matching pair of princess heels.

Her hair is done up in a tight bun, just a few blond strands strategically hanging down to from the right side of face, a glittery, frost blue rose hair pin becoming a focal point. She flashes a beaming smile for the camera when it's photograph time. She doesn't spend much time in front of the camera, far too eager to get into the Masquerade itself and see what sort of mischief awaits.

10 Minutes Later

A confident blonde twirls onto the red carpet, dressed exactly like Rosemary, right down to the hair piece and painted nails. It gives the photographer half a second of pause before they continue on snapping photos and she ventures into the venue to see how the night unfolds.

Aisley steps onto the red carpet with an air of confidence, the black and blue accent ensembleshe'd chosen for the night creating a bold silhouette of her body. The fitted bodice with intricate embroidery hugs her frame, elegance as she moves with grace in very tall stiletto shoes.

The wonderful thing about a masquarde is the element of mystery and anonymity that the masks provide. No one knew who anyone was. When you were still only a few months into being here, you did not know hardly anyone, but tonight? Tonight offered a chance. A unique opportunity to invent yourself, meet new people, and make unexpected connections in an elegant and enchanting setting.

Never having loved having her photo taken, Aisley rushed past the part where pictures were being taken and right into the main event room.

Robin is one of several without the funds for a ticket but that's not stopped him from going in his own way; through the tunnels up into the kitchen area and moving things like he's suddenly helpful. He's not dressed for the ball, he's never setting foot on the red carpet as he's pretty certain that's what the hidden service fees cover.

As it's still winter in Michigan there are layers. He unshoulders his messenger bag with the RATM patch on it as he heads up the back stairs to the offices and storage rooms until he comes by the audio room where there's also some projector controls for the lights and such. It's like a little skybox to watch the dance from; the music all around the venue carried in the walls. Like an insect in the walls he watches. The sketchbook of 5x7 index cards comes out as does a can of Dr. Pepper and a thingie of Pringles which are always better in December for some reason.

A couple of the techs wander past who get a lift of a hand to wave and he waves back. The magic is bigger this year than last year bringing his expression to look like a kid watching the snow come down in time for Santa, but now it's people, some he knows, in magnificent details. There's a text to Eddie noting only: we're going to need to compare pics later. Right now he gets to watch lovely people have a lovely time which isn't so bad when you have access to the kitchen to sneak snacks.

Perhaps with some fake confidence and roughly hewn poise, Gabriel steps out onto the red carpet. Their outfit took a lot of internet searching and tailoring to get just right, but they seem very pleased with it.

Shoulder pads help cut an imposing silhouette as the white fabric flows downwards from a high collar and past Gabe’s chest to make a sort of cape out of the long-sleeved top coat. The tunic underneath looks more like a dressy blazer, also in white, that pairs well with matching skinny trousers. There’s a wafer thin slice of lace peeking up from under the tunic’s collar, which corresponds with Gabriel’s half mask made of the same material. The mask spikes up at the top like a crown and curves at odd angles, more avant-garde in the way it covers their right eye completely. White patent leather Chelsea boots round out the look.

Their blonde hair is also tousled back nicely with a few strands left out to frame their face. They pose silently for photographs then make a beeline for the food table.

Erika may be new to the staff of Spellbound but she heard about the ball and had come semi-prepared. She arrives at the ball wearing an extremely dark blue traditional Norwegian bunad and footwear.

The foundation of the bunad is a pristine white linen, blouse (or skjorte) with starched cuffs at the end of the long sleeves and a moderate, upright starched collar. At the neck two decorative bangles in the shape of purple heather flowers made of small flakes of sapphire and moonstone set in silver.

Over the blouse is a bodiced skirt made of a coarse, dense wool fabric dyed an extremely dark blue with embroidered flower patters in seemingly every color of the rainbow, although green and red are the primary colors. Despite the weight of the fabric the skirt flows around her as she walks - or later dances.

Although she's a new face those with excellent memories might remember her as a one-time tourist in February of this year and people may have seen her arriving at the park, in Michigan or even Boston where her flight from Norway landed in the US. She walks in confidently and unmasked but her naturally blonde hair is darkened by her Changeling magic to be a natural-seeming raven black for the ball.

Have there been balls before? If so Kellin was at those too, so he may just know how all this works. He is not thrilled at all the camera flashes as pictures are taken of those that came before him, those that are behind him, and himself of course. He does his best not to scowl, and will put on at least a half smile for a camera or two.

He is dressed, from the waist up in a formal dove gray suit, complete with ascot tie, waistcoat, and a furred sporran. The waist down is a kilt in the MacDonnell clan tartan, knee high socks with the garters, and dress shoes that match the suit. Scottish formal wear, if you will.

Kellin doesn't waste much time on the red carpet or with getting his picture taken, a few pics and he is heading into the venue to go mingle or something.

Black pools around a pair of golden laced heels, wrapping around slender legs, as Artemisia makes her way into the ball in a gown right off Chanel's 92 runway show. Only, the wearer has recreated from painstaking work in bits and pieces to look like the original with a few additional elements, from the chains that drape over the dramatic figure of the dress dangle little charms, crystals, and beads. Her fluff of blonde hair has been slicked back with the chains that hang from her mask woven back into her hair, a pair of black lace gloves added in the place of dramatic gold bracelets adding a delicacy that suits the wearer. The drape of her skirt in one hand, Artemisia steps carefully in a pair of platform heels, trying desperately not to trip.

One thing can be said for Sadie Mitchell: she does not lack confidence.

She arrives alone, in no way hindered by the pale gold heels peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress. The dress itself is long, a wash of blush and amber beneath a play of flowers that begins in texture at the bodice and transitions from there to a print of falling petals on silky fabric. A skinny gold belt of velvet ribbon tightens it at her waist. It has a slight train that she tends to with care to avoid stepping on it, and when it's her turn on the red carpet she arranges it just so. Her makeup is subtle but glowy beneath her mask, fresh as the floral she wears, just 'there' enough to show up in photos without looking too put-on in person, and her hair is swept up away from her face and pinned in intricate braids with a wreath of gold.

After a couple of poses, she grins and carries on towards the party itself.

It had take some bribery from co-workers to get Delilah Moore to don a dress and a mask... and to be honest, her current slapdash ensemble suits her! A frothy little number with a matching mask, obscuring the chaos gremlin's playful dark gaze. See, she would be CRUSHING the frost pixie vibe if she...

... if she didn't opt to complete her ensemble with a pair of Converse high tops. Seriously. But again.. it bloody suits her. She ambles in, very clearly having gone stag for the occasion.

Even if she does feel a bit discombobulated, often tugging at the neckline of the dress, Delilah is brimming with compliments for others. She gives the red carpet photo-op a lick and a promise, and once the camera does what it has to do she takes a breath.. shoulders up, huff, shoulders down.

"OK.. arright." Inhale, "Time to party."

While Layla has plenty of her own issues, confidence certainly isn't one of them, either (something she shares with Sadie).

The raven-haired woman arrives with Mireille on her arm, grinning giddily the whole way in. Her dress is in a traditional Kurdish style, white with some pink, while also possessing a bit of modern flair. Delicate pink flowers are embroidered across the entire dress and translucent sleeves, textured and three-dimensional. Subtler, dark leaves and stems stretch across the garment, a contrast to the softer colors. A sparkly white belt cinches at the waist, just hinting at her fit form underneath. Her thick black hair falls long and loose down her back, matching the dark eyeliner she wears. Soft pink eyeliner matches the shade of her dress, while her lips are painted dark and bold. Her heels are a bright white, taking her to nearly six feet in height.

Underneath her white lacy mask, her dark eyes glitter as they go inside.

Who, exactly, did Miriam and Benedict call in a favor with in the costuming department? It should come as no surprise that they rolled up extra AF.

Miriam's ballgown is crafted from layers of silk, chiffon, and shimmering organza in a gradient of fiery hues—deep crimson at the bodice, blending into molten orange, and cascading into golden yellow at the hem. The silhouette is a dramatic, with a fitted corset bodice that flares into a full skirt.

The corset features an off-the-shoulder neckline with delicate, flame-shaped lace detailing that extends onto the décolletage and is adorned with intricate beadwork and embroidery that mimic dancing flames, using crystals and sequins in shades of ruby, amber, and gold. The sleeves are sheer, flowing chiffon that trails like smoke with every movement.

Subtle LED lights are discreetly embedded within the fabric folds of the skirt, giving the illusion of flickering embers as the wearer moves. The voluminous skirt flows like liquid fire, with asymmetric panels designed to resemble licking flames.

She wears an ornate mask crafted from gilded metalwork, shaped like phoenix feathers, with red and orange gemstones and filigree patterns.

Her hair is styled into a cascading half-up, half-down design, evoking the flowing movement of flames. The upper section is intricately twisted and braided into flame-like patterns, secured at the crown with golden hairpins shaped like phoenix feathers in the same style as the mask.

Loose curls tumble down the back in Auburn waves, with strands strategically highlighted in copper and gold tones to catch the light and shimmer like embers. A few delicate curls frame her face, softening the overall look. A golden hairpiece shaped like a flame crown rests atop the head, subtly blending into the hairstyle. A light mist of shimmer spray finishes the style, because life is not complete without a bit of glitter.

At Miriam's side is Benedict, in a Victorian-inspired suit designed to both perfectly complement the fiery masquerade gown she's wearing, while offering a sharp contrast in theme.

His outfit features a fitted coat in a soft, shimmering frost-blue velvet with silver embroidery that swirls across the fabric in patterns that bring to mind frost crystals growing across glass. The coat also features silver buttons and crystal accents dotted across it that catch the light like frozen dew. Underneath the coat is a crisp white shirt with a high, ruffled collar peeking through a waistcoat in pale silver satin, patterend with subtle snowflurries. Flashes of LED lighting evokes the look of snowflakes caught in glimmering moonlight, built into the jacket and waistcoat.

The accompanying trousers are slim-cut and tailored, made from a deep midnight blue material with a slight shimmer that mimics the look of ice on a darkened night. Polished black boots that lace up to the knee completes the main components of the look.

Of course, given that it's a masquerade ball, he is also wearing a mask made of delicate silver filigree and adorned with tiny gemstones, shaped to resemble swirling ice patterns. Atop his lightly styled curls is an ice-frosted crown of jagged edges, and white gloves add the final refined touch to the look, proving once and for all that Benedict is not actually allergic to color.

Theo steps onto the red carpet, the sharp tailoring of his black and silver suit catching the light at every angle.The intricate silver embroidery on the jacket’s collar and cuffs gleams subtly, contrasting with the crisp white of his dress shirt underneath. His black and silver vest, mirroring the suit's design, hugs his frame perfectly, while the delicate knot and ruffle at the front of his shirt adds a hint of elegance to the look.

His hazel eyes shine through the sleek metallic silver domino mask. The mask adds an air of mystery, but to anyone who knows him, the warmth and sparkle in his gaze give him away immediately. His polished black dress shoes glint under the lights, completing the ensemble. Theo's messy hair has been styled just enough to keep its natural, effortlessly charming appeal, giving yet another clue to his identity.

He has Esme on his arm and is smiling at her before they enter the ballroom, truly. He is also glancing back because Jett is right behind them.

Esme practically sweeps onto the red carpet in a floor length black gown The intricate lace detailing on the sleeves and bodice create a gothically elegant design while adding depth to the dark fabric. The fitted silhouette highlights her graceful figure, while the voluminous skirt cascades down in soft, layered waves which sway with each and every step. And this is a rarity for the Ice Princess, but she does wear heels to this glamorous event--black heels with a similar lacy embroidery to match the gown.

Her face is partially concealed by a glittering black mask that enhances her allure, the delicate design framing her expressive blue eyes, while her hair is softly curled into voluminous waves that cascade down her shoulder. The top section of her hair is gently swept back and secured by a jeweled pin, adding height and structure while keeping her face open and framed by soft tendrils.

She looks incredibly excited to be walking the red carpet, to having her pictures taken when so decked out so extravagantly. With Theo by her side, they look like quite the stunning pair. Smiling at Jett as she watches what it is he's doing.

Black dominates the runway after the brilliant pair before him.

A young man featuring a top hat, frock coat, vest, slacks, cravat, gloves, and polished heeled black boots comes strolling in with unshakeable confidence; all with gothic steampunk black with gold accent aesthetics. It could be he looks straight out of the Midway or right off someone's anime cover. His black hair tapers out below the top hat, hiding the ends of the black domino mask with scrollwork embroidered accents. His face is really the only part of him that is visible, giving away the pale complexion and the dark brown eyes lined in guy liner with smoky shadow and thick mascara. Otherwise every part of him seems to be wrapped elegantly in black, like a shadow pressed over his form. A black cravat tightens around his collar and hides his neckline, while the frock coat jacket, somewhat militant in style, is open and shows off the black vest underneath, with gold or brass studs lining the lapels. On the frock itself there are four ribbings on each side, interrupted by gold circular accents, while steampunk cogs decorate the upper shoulder like war metals. The back of the jacket has long tails and seems to have more of the ribbing detail with all sorts of dangling junky bits on it to make him seem like he's come straight out of a steampunk workshop. The jacket itself is snug, the shoulders slightly puffy, with a vest underneath that is a smidge on the charcoal side is closed with gold buttons, and delicate chains disappearing into the sides with more steampunk jewelry accents. The slacks are formal, held up with a belt that has a hand made belt, also with more dangly chains falling off of it. The slacks cover the tactical boot that has several buckles from mid foot all the way up, adding more to the punk vibe which the slacks tend to take away.

The young man arrives on the heels of other friends but opts to have his own moment on that red carpet! He paid money for this and he is dang well going to spend those precious few minutes filling up the camera lens! TYVM. He has the nerve to do some fancy posing to the photographers, including tipping his hat forward with his hand up to the brim or taking it off and giving a swaggering bow. If he's encouraged to spend more time there he will the opportunity to look ominous or straight up like a cocky villain. He's not quite six foot but that top hat and thick boot heels make him get there, a point that he seems to exasperate with the sharpness of his posture and sticking out of his chest, or holding the lapels for those flashed photography.

His lips pull to one side in a smirk before he presses onward to catch up with the two that went before him.

There is a flash of night, a fluttering of capes, and the distinctive click, click, click of a well measured and confident gait making its way to the red carpet.

With a whirl towards the camera that lets the cape catch air and linger behind just as the long flowing black hair does, Neville turns to regard the cameras. Presumably revealing which side he believes is his best, the left side of Neville's face is covered by a chalky white porcelain mask with deeply inlaid channels painted back, and emphasis added to the natural contours of his face to accentuate the shadows. The other side of his face is clean shaven, clean complexion contrasting with the rough visage of the mask. It bends around his lips, allowing his full expressive mouth to be seen, perhaps a conceit to allow for ease of drinking and eating. It is a part, after all.

Beneath the cape is a lush black velvet Victorian suit, precisely tailed to fit his form to utter perfection. A cravat of brilliant white silk lays nestled as his neck, the only splash of anything other than black or dulled silver filigree in the ensemble. Black leather boots with a hard English sole are the source of the clicking as he walks, the meticulous movements of the classically trained actor designed to invoke a sense of that old English aristocracy. Or French, in this case. He's played them both, much to his parents chagrin.

His face remains fixed as the cameras flash, but his eyes move, to ensure that at least some of the photos will bear some sense of the menacing if slightly hopeful glare of this Phantom, before he whirls again sending the cape to trail behind him as he clicks his way forward and into the Masquerade itself.

Lights? Cameras? The potential for action? Declan is there. It doesn't take much to get him excited about the prospect of a party, regardless of the type. As someone somewhat frugal with his salary, these are the types of things that he's willing to go all out for. Especially when a new friend expresses some interest in wanting to go as well. So why not make as much of a spectacle as possible?

Declan is dressed in a well-fitted, ornate suit that blends a bit of antiquated elegance and present-day pop. Of course, he has a mask as well. So there's plausible deniability should 'he' do anything. Plus, he has an alibi along with him. Sure, there are plenty of pictures to be taken of him, but he makes damn well certain that the star of the show is Farah, who's close at his side for this event.

That usual light-hearted nature certain shines through the dark attire, smiling almost constantly as he looks at the various sights and costumes. This will be a night to remember and he does his very best to make sure he's remembered in all the best ways for others as well.

Much as Avery had appeared with a white diamond-like suit and matching mask, Bam arrives in contrast, a mask that appears to be inlaid with some form of artificial obsidian. His suit is cut tight to his frame, which may reveal a surprisingly lean and athletic figure to the man that most usually only see in loose fitting shirts and jeans.

He pauses in his arrival despite coming at Avery's arm to allow her to move forward, and have her time upon the red carpet, uninterrupted. He has been to such events before, and even if it were not that he had no positive memories of those occasions, he still would wish Avery to have her own moment to dazzle.

Waiting until she had displayed that brilliant smile to all and starts to make her way into the dance, Bam crosses the region quickly, pausing not for photos nor even glancing in their direction, seemingly eager to catch up to Avery as the two of them head into the Masquerade.,

Eddie is used to being behind the camera, not in front of it. He stands awkwardly in a white tuxedo with pale gray lapels and silver accoutrements, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat down his spine. He does ignore the buzz of his phone in his pocket, reaching up to adjust the silver mask that curls from the left side of his chin to his right cheek to his left temple in a filigreed crescent moon.

The photographer tries to block out the flashes around him as he walks up the red carpet, slightly turned toward the vision in gold at his side. Leaning his head as close as he can behind her mask and only bumping masks slightly, he murmurs something softly there and then straightens up again, a very dry smile on lips just above the curve of the moon's crescent. He turns slightly this way and that, reflecting the brighter light of his golden companion.

That companion is luminous beside Eddie in a gown of fine gossamer that seems to flow around her like captured sunlight—all shades of gold and yellow, accented in sunspot black; its skirt trails behind her as she strides in slouchy black suede boots beside her lunar companion. Despite the winter chill, swathes of Leon's tawny freckled skin are on display, each inch dusted in gold powder; her lips are a burnished black, like a burn, and the strawberry blush in the hollow of her cheeks only emphasizes the embodiment of the Sun she tries to capture. She wears a half-mask crowned in rippling sun rays, the edges blackened to give the illusion of sunlight against the dark of space.

When the Moon leans in toward her, she smiles gently at the words whispered against the shell of her ear. She leans back just enough so her hazel eyes meet his own dark gaze, and then she shakes her head with amusement. She hooks her arm gently with his, holding him close against her glittering frame, but not a smear of gold dust is left on his immaculate white tux.

Together, the Sun and Moon continue their walk into the Ball.

Diana adjusts her golden mask over her ice-blue eyes before facing the photographers. She navigates the step and repeat like a seasoned pro. She knows her best angles and works them for the photographers, adjusting the train of her glittering gown ahead of each flash. The gown is a work of art, golden fabric adorned with thousands of glass beads that catch the light like a galaxy of shimmering stardust. The silhouette is tailor made for her with a deep v in the front and corset work in the back that work in tandem to show off her narrow waist. The shoes, though difficult to see, are simple strappy golden heels that elongate her lines, but only in a subtle way that doesn't take away from the rest of the look.

With her photos done, she accepts an offered glass of champagne and heads inside.

Jasper steps onto the red carpet alongside the other guests, his back straight and shoulders square. True to form, he's veered away from the traditional fashion choices tonight, though his relaxed demeanour and broad smile suggest no regrets about the decision.

Tonight, he's chosen a burgundy velvet blazer, its intricate floral embroidery etched into the fabric. Beneath it, a loose white linen shirt with an open collar and subtle embroidery softens the look. Fitted black trousers emphasise his lean frame, while polished leather boots - worn just enough to show that these are perhaps regularly worn - complete the look. The accessories punctuate the bohemian style: a copper and black mask with swirling patterns over his face, a thin leather belt with an ornate buckle and layered silver rings that catch the light. Around his neck, a trio of necklaces can be seen: a delicate silver chain, a small medallion and a leather cord holding an unremarkable onyx charm.

With a casual nod to the photographers, Jasper adjusts his blazer as he moves toward the grand staircase leading into the ballroom. "...if there was ever a fish out of water..." As he ascends, his fingers rake through his hair. A steadying breath is taken.

Trace and Angelo arrive to the ball together.

Trace is dressed in a dark red and black brocade jacket over a black shirt with a black silken bow tie at his throat, a little bit of black tie combined with a sort of modern ballroom. His trousers and shoes are a matching black and his mask a slightly larger than domino affair with silver filigree across it. His hair is styled in a way that looks intentionally mussed and he appears in good cheer as he steps onto the red carpet.

He flashes a grin to the pirate next to him and says, "Usually I dread these kind of things. It hits different when you don't have to be there. Got a preference where to head first?"

Angelo is living proof that sometimes you cannot take the pirate out of the boy as he shows up with Trace. He's worn a black velvet frock coat with slats for the wings; it has gold filigree and embellishments over a black on black brocade shirt open to the 4th button, black leather pants and knee height buckled boots with slight heel to them to bridge the height gap. He's always had a rather devil-may-care look about him and his hair, likewise, is no exception.

A hand falls on the back of Trace's shoulder surveying the carpet, and having the decency not to go rogue and start grandstanding. The grin warms in return, turning to pose with Trace for the camera loving this moment. "Usually I kinda do, but I've always found a way to make it fun, and you're impossible to not have fun around." There's a pause, "Nothing's terribly flammable right now...right?"

Considering the offer he steers Trace's attention to the floor and then around, "First we dance, and then find a drink, and then find where the best trouble is. It'll be great!"

One Scarlett Nash has only been around the park for a few days, and while she's supposed to be lying low... that isn't really her style.

So she's making an appearance at this ball, wearing a very translucent dress with dark fabric, metal bracers, and long, sharp metallic finger-pieces. Her fiery, distinctive red hair is pulled back in a knot, with two strands framing her face. The dress's neckline is low and daring, baring much of her chest, and her makeup is striking - her face Is pale and her eyeliner is bold, her lips painted red.

She poses for the inevitable photographs, and then moves inside, heading immediately for the bar.

While most people have dressed up to the nines in formal attire, Enzo has taken a different approach with his ensemble; one that almost looks casual in its execution if not for the designer names that go with each piece or the man's confidence when he steps foot onto the red carpet. Wearing a white, loose-collared Oxford shirt, with an undone waistcoat, wide-legged navy trousers, and smart black leather shoes, he looks like he may have just stepped out from a cover of a romance novel.

His dark, tousled curls framing an intricatedly crafted black and white mask that conceals his eyes but do little to hide the light stubble along his chiseled jawline.

Fin arrives to the red carpet on Enzo's arm. She is all smiles, excited for the evening's festivities. "This feels like a dream," she murmurs. Her red hair, swept up into a classic chignon, looks somehow even brighter in contrast to her elegant, black and white gown and laser cut metallic mask. The lace-like mask does little to hide her identity to those who know her, but then, to truly hide, she'd have had to mask her hair as well.

Everything looks perfect, or does to Fin's perspective. She was treated to a day of pampering at the spa. Not only is she relaxed, her skin and makeup are flawless, her nails painted in a silver-tipped manicure. Even her toes, visible when she walks in black strappy heels, are painted in a clear coat. The gown she wears is a one-shouldered sheath that fits like a glove to the mid-thigh then drapes beautifully from there. The main structure is a white ilk, with a swath of black chiffon that rises up from the floor length hem on the right side, crossing over her chest to the left shoulder where it trails behind like a mini-train in the back. A rhinestone starburst rests at her right hip, enclosing the black banded sash that wraps around her waist.

They of course pause for photographs, Fin letting out a soft, slightly nervous sounding laugh. "I'm not usually on this side of the flashes," she whispers to Enzo before doing her best to pose artistically, as if she does this every day of her life; more Met Gala than prom pose. At least, that is her attempt. She has quite a looker on her arm and doesn't want to embarrass him.

Oh gawd, hopefully she's not too late!

With a tendency toward beach-bum fashion, Taylor doesn't usually do 'fancy,' let alone red carpet glamorous, and so the fanciness of the occasion may have been something she underestimated. The entire process of preparation, from putting on her dress (which she'd acquired through the help of some of the costuming people), to doing her make up, hair, everything? Well it all takes time, and well, maybe she should have given herself an extra hour. So there's a little hastiness as she makes her way in on the tail end of the group. Haste which comes with consequences: she makes it a a few long brisk strides and then nearly rolls her ankle, wobbling on the high-heels that go with her outfit. Yep, she's definitely out of her depth.

Still, the fact that it's a near miss rather than a complete face-plant means things aren't a total disaster, and in fact, seems to give her a bit of a rebound in confidence.

With that power-up on her side, she pauses briefly to tug at the top of the dress to make sure nothing is out of place, and then makes a relatively bold final approach up the stairs into the castle proper. The winter-y touches are fun, and she herself looks something like a creature of ice in her sparkling, strapless gown, encrusted with all manner of (presumably very fake costume-grade!) crystals in patterns that might be considered snowflake-like. Her look is otherwise minimalist, with her hair pulled back tightly and into an out-of sight bun, keeping her hair from her bare shoulders. Earrings match the dress, long dangling strands of more of the same crystal (icicles, perhaps?) and of course the entire thing is completed with a delicate mask, albeit one that does little to hide her features.

Onward!

Mireille Wright-Auclair was made for these sorts of dos: she does not necessarily burgeon with confidence, but her head is held high atop a swan's neck all-the-same, her direct blue gaze roving the venue admiringly. "Everything looks wondrous," The mild-mannered medic muses, "Everything and everyone. Especially yourself, Layla." Grin, "Thank you for inviting me along." Merry asides to the giddy, beaming performer upon whose arm she leans.

In the case of Mireille, the entirety of her willowy self is outfitted in a fetching black gown, emblazoned artfully with lace, that fits her like a glove. Honey-brown hair -- there's a LOT of it -- hangs in a wavy spill, though two large sprigs of dark feathers arise alongside her temples, affixed to her mask.

Once the photo op is done and over with, Merry pats her friend's elbow, "I am going to get a drink, do mingle and enjoy yourself. I'll find you in a bit!" And with that, Merry glides off into the elegantly festooned wonderland of the Queen's Castle.

Now, what about Farah Lee Dawson? Oh, Farah loves a party. But the parties SHE is accustomed to consist of tapping a keg in a barn and breaking out the fiddle. THIS... is fancy. THIS .. is a biiiiit out of her wheelhouse. The last time she went to a do like this, it was for her ill-fated wedding. (Which ... we won't speak on THAT one.)

ANYWAY! With a buddy like Declan, who is: A. Irish.. aren't Irish folk great at 'dos' ...? and B. outgoing .. the animal handler is feeling quite optimistic about how this night could pan out!

With her dark hair swept up into a hastily-done up-do that she either bribed her roomies to help her with, or her sister Astrid, Farah looks quite fetching in a ruby red dress that makes her fair skin glow, and her eyes all-the-more lambent in their mirth. No heels, though... nice, comfortable flats with delicate straps.. Farah should never be combined with heels. Craning her neck to see who is about, she pauses to make a silly face for the camera and turns to elbow Declan in the ribs, "Okay slugger, let us go forth and conquer!" Not really, she's just really excited for the occasion.

The key to crashing a party that you don't belong at is to look like you belong. This is a lesson Lavender Amador learned long ago and puts into practice on occasion.

This is one of those occasions.

She certainly couldn't afford a ticket. Yes, the Ball is for a good cause, but, isn't she a good cause too? Doesn't she deserve to see the magical wintry wonderfulness of the castle all decorated for the event?

She decided that yes, yes she does. She dons a winter white mini dress with barely-there straps, let's be honest, a barely there top of some floral appliques precariously keeping her outfit from becoming R rated. Her mask is a simple white harlequin mask you can find for cheap. The only other adornment is a white satin ribbon tied around her neck. She hid it all under a long puffer coat as she walked through the tunnels, weaving her way through the castle kitchen, and finding a spot to stash her coat.

She made her way into the ballroom itself, immediately standing there as if she had been there the whole time. Yeah, she missed the red carpet, but she'll snag a pic from one of the other photo ops later. Now, she just needs to get a drink or two and maybe be spun around the dance floor by someone fun and she'll call the night a win.

Livvie Vasylyk, Tourist

Livvie arrives at the masquerade in a whispy dress that's layered ruffled and made of dozens of sheer orange panels of fabric. It's beaded too, with embroidered sections, affixed to her body with a hidden corset overlaid in yet more layers. She takes up a good couple of feet in any direction, plus about four behind her for the train. Her shoulders are bare, pale shoulders dusted in golden glitter, and her hair's up in a messy twist, curly tendrils free. Though it's mostly pink, a good few orange sections have been clipped in, and she wears a gold filagree mask, about two dozen beaded chains hanging from it like a veil. It doesn't cover much of her face, and anyone who knows her will certainly recognize the mostly-pink hair first.

She carries a gold clutch in hand, far too small to be an issue, no matter what's inside it. She arrives alone, but wastes no time in going out to mingle, humming some vintage Gaga to herself.

Lala Coward

Lala arrives well into the ball, quite late, and changed at least once. She started the night in a silver gown, and a detour and some shenanigans later, she arrives in a black corset and shorts combination with a sheer skirt, long grey hair left down in wild curls slowly drooping into waves. And peppered with a few rainbow mini marshmallows.

She's wearing extremely high stilettos with little faux diamond bands, which puts her at over six feet. Six feet, sheer and shimmery and wearing mostly ink, she's opted for a nude lip, winged liner, and very little eyeshadow. A couple of marshmallows tumble from her hair and bounce off her foot. She glances down. "Fucks sake," she mutters, reaching for a passing tray to shoot a flute of champagne. And then she goes in search of the bar. There's always a bar. She only pauses to kick a couple of mini mallows behind a planter of fantasy flora.

She glances around to be sure no one saw that, then fucks off into the crowd.