'Twas the night of Masquerade, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,

This was in no small part due to the fact that Esmerelda May had spent the last few days systematically working her way through every nook, cranny, and other inappropriately named orifices in the palace and giving the disgruntled animal occupants the unceremonious boot. Every corridor shone like a glittering beacon, every tapestry was spotless and carefully hung, and every painting was perfectly straight (apart from the one with the broken hook; after careful consideration Esme had decided to leave a small sign noting that the painting was actually supposed to be wonky, as a form of modern art).

Though there had of course been an entire staffing of servants working alongside Madam May, she had pertinently ensured that she was keeping a hawk-like eye on an unreasonable number of them at all times, with the scope of vision that only housekeepers could perfect. Every slip up, error, or misplaced doily invited an earful of shrill squeaks that were far more intimidating than they should be, given the pitch of them and the small height of the woman herself.

All these measures, large and small, had brought this evening together near perfectly, and past the large double doors that led to the palace interior was a shrine to housekeeping in shimmering golden glory, and would be used as an example for cleaners and housewives for generations, eventually being written into a small and particularly uninteresting fairy tale of the sort that was consigned to an eternity on a dusty bookshelf after all the pretty pictures had been 'ooh'd and 'aah'd at.

Now, though, Esme was doing the one thing she hadn't had time for for weeks. Sitting down with a nice cup of tea and a biscuit in front of a nice warm fire in the servant's quarters. She would have to get up again soon, of course, for guests meant things would be broken, dirtied and displaced, but right now Esme was basking in the feeling of being done.

---

'Twas the night of masquerade, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,
The guests were all coming, all roused from their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads,

Sugar-plums were quite beside the point, really, thought Phillippe - though he wasn't really sure why he had thought it, as sugar-plums hadn't been mentioned at all as far as he could tell, but he thought it all the same - no, right now the savoury courses were brewing and roasting away in their various pots, pans and ovens. The sugary desserts were either already done, or a matter for once the rest was ready. As the head chef of the palace, Phillippe had been given the glorious task of preparing the banquet that would be served partway through the ball - and he was truly shining with pride at the assembly of meats, vegetables and breads that simmered and baked before him in the grand kitchen, while cooks and assistants bustled about their own miniature tasks.

"Cedric! Turn that over! No, using the spatula you fool!"

"Don't forget to keep the soup stirring, Florence darling. Alice, stop distracting her and get back to chopping those onions!"

"Who is looking after this pot?! It's bubbling over! Hurry, hurry! Eric, if I catch you neglecting your cooking to chase after that servant girl one more time I'll be showing you the door!"

Despite the snapping, growling, and various other dogging utterances Phillippe directed toward his cooks, he was in a wonderful mood, and flopped down into his 'chef's throne' - a large and well sat in armchair located at the end of the kitchen - with a delighted grin. Everything was coming together! Everything was...

---

'Twas the night of masquerade, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,
The guests were all coming, all roused from their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads,
And Esme in her chair, and Masteure in his cap, had just settled down for a short summer nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, they sprang from their chairs to see what was the matter!

'...Everything was going according to plan!' echoed Lucia, with a far less jolly tone to her thoughts. The sound of the first arriving carriages was carrying from the courtyard and into the palace, even as the elegantly clad woman glided down the marble staircase in the hall and toward the door, accompanied by an assortment of entirely unnecessary servants who may as well have been carrying neon signs pointing to the lady in question that read 'I am rich, you should do what I say'.

A political smile was set firmly on Lucia's lips, the kind of smile that doesn't quite reach the eyes, but gets close enough that you can't quite tell that it doesn't unless you look far more closely than is proper unless you happen to be her husband; and in that case you would be rather too dead for your opinion to matter much.

As the double doors swung open to let in the night air, Lucia directed her smile toward the first guests, spreading her arms in an entirely earnest manner, not remotely suggestive of the wicked plotting that was going on within her mind. Were she not far too classy for such things, Lucia would certainly have placed her hands together in a tried and tested evil manner, and said "Excellent..." in a sinister manner. But she was far too classy, and so she simply said it in her head, where all none-classy things should stay.

Amelia sighed. Another party. Joy to the world. looking around, she headed torwads where her parents said it should be, although she wasn't to eager to come. She forced a smile as she saw the house and headed for it..

A Slim figure escaped from the shadows, and made it's way towards the party. Elizabeth Wondered to herself 'I hope They don't mind me joining?'grinning widly. She had heard about the party from a distant friend of the family. Her silver eyes glowing a bit as she came to the door, a green light shinning dimly underneath her shirt. A deep sigh escaped from her lips as she ringed the door bell. She stood there a deep red colored satin dress on- looking as if painted on. Though a black trench coat covered most of it, she looked over to the window, noticing movement inside.

Aiyo skipped happily down the cobblestone street, towards the party. She had on her gold sequined mask- Covering her eyes, and the top of her nose. Her succulent lips were uncovered, though donned in red lipstick. As she came upon the door, she saw a girl, in a black trenchcoat standing at the door. Aiyo's head tilted, a smile spread across her face. Without a second thought, she bounded up beside the girl, and knocked rather loudly against the floor.

Elizabeth turned as the girl approauched her. "Hello there." She muttered, pulling her coat closer to her as a breeze blew by. "I am Eliza, and you are?" She asks. Awaiting for someone answer the door. Her silver eyes shining in the moon's light.

"I'm Aiyo McEvelyn," said Aiyo McEvelyn. Aiyo laughed.
"Are you cold? It feels rather warm out here."
Aiyo turned her head to Eliza, eying her with a friendly grin as she waited for the door to open.

She smiled "Ahh, well I am used to much, much, much warmer tempature." She told her, though she was lieing, How was she to find out? "Are you a friend of the family's?" She asks watching the window once more, hoping someone will answer.

Ryder stood in the shadows as everyone chit chatted with each other. Not being a real people person, he just played with a ball of lightning. Having entered the hall in rush that came with the first wave of partiers. He watched the crowd flux around the dance floor.

Ryder stood in the shadows as everyone chit chatted with each other. Not being a real people person, he just played with a ball of lightning. Having entered the hall in rush that came with the first wave of partiers. He watched the crowd flux around the dance floor.