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located in The Masquerade Ball, a part of Misguided Ghosts: A Promise, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Masquerade Ball



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It is common to react with wide eyes, open mouth, and tense muscles when something beautiful approaches. When something strange, unknown, mysterious and mythical shows itself. When all the colors in the world converge into a single space and then explode into yours, all you can do is stand there. That is the normal thing, for normal people, to do. It’s like the autonomous action of blinking when something’s in your eye. Your body is moved emotionally, or physically, to whatever it sees and can’t help but express it outwardly somehow. The universal sign being wide, doe-eyes.

Mariella is completely abstract and definitely abnormal. When he came walking through the open doors, the curtains rustling at their ends from his breeze, she saw something white, a hint of silver, and a rainbow of different colors. Not that he was trailing a rainbow like some unicorn, mind you. No, it wasn’t all fantasy and faeire-like. What she saw was the negative, floating in the clear liquids. Red, then yellow, then more colors layering ontop of more colors until all she saw was that image. Still. Perfect. Angular and yet totally loose. All limbs and then grace. How he easily lifted his body over the railing and onto the ground just on the other side. Ella felt herself envying his pants and sensible shoes. Perhaps she could have come here dressed as a man. Would she have gotten away with it? Perhaps. But of course, a woman going to a masquerade as a man was just unheard of.

As he stood there, Mariella did the abnormal thing and just watched him for the seconds before he turned and noticed her. He watched the moon and she studied how it shined off his hair, off the edge of his glasses, and how the shadow under his jaw was sharp and distinct. Without thinking, her hands came up, index fingers and thumbs creating a box around his visage.

Don’t move. Let me get my camera. That would have been a normal reaction for her. The lighting was splendid and the specimen was more than superb. She wanted that picture, that moment trapped in her world for eternity.

But he noticed her. He turned and the moment, not lost, had been missed. She really should have brought her camera.

“No apologies needed. I’m sorry, actually,” she started, realizing that she was about to keep talking before thinking it over, “I wanted to take your picture just now and I do not have my camera.” And the award for creepiest guest goes to…! Her cheeks blushed rapidly and she shook her head. “I mean! Just… It’s that… Well, you looked very contemplative and you have a great body… I mean!” Oh God… this was just irritatingly wrong. Everything that came out of her mouth was idiotic. It was no wonder to herself that she hated speaking with people. Just point and click. Those were her words to the world. She cleared her throat and looked away from him, suddenly unable to meet his dark eyes.

“What I mean to say is, the moment was perfect and it deserved a photograph. That’s all.” No, that wasn’t all, but that’s all she felt right saying anymore. Mariella really wished she was the girl from that song. Glue her lips together. Stop talking because it obviously did her no good.

Mike couldn’t help but watch her go. She danced when she walked, even. It wasn’t that he was instantly falling in love, though he wouldn’t have minded really, especially if she were game, just that he could appreciate a woman in all aspects. He was still male and he still loved their bodies. A few people got caught between them and he lost sight of her figure swaying to a seat for a small break. Too bad she didn’t want something to eat. No worries. Mike would grab a quick bite, get a fresh drink and be right back at her side for the next dance. Tango. She was fiery. He liked that.

He’d turned on his heel made only a few steps then slowed. Something was coming toward him. Mike was by no means a psychic. He couldn’t feel presences of the dead or the living. His little brothers and sisters could sneak up on him the easiest. Michaelis was pretty much oblivious to his surroundings and being on a constant buzz from alcohol never really helped.

But this was different. It was a force that would not be ignored. It was hot and angry and it burned at his shoulders. A hand, strong, forceful, filled with intentions Mike didn’t want to know about, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The connection was explosive. The taste of blood was instant and he felt the left side of his head go numb. The hearing was blocked for a moment and he inhaled some of the blood that seeped from the cheek that had busted against his molars.

At first, Mike only cared about the pain, not the gasping guests or the wide eyes behind masques. All he could do was gingerly touched the cheek where he’d been clocked. Swelling would be almost instantaneous, bruising well on its heels. He couldn't close his mouth because the inside was so tender when his teeth brushed the flesh he groaned in pain. Finally, he looked up and saw the face of his assaulter. Those eyes were harboring some kind of hatred, a pain he’d only seen as an outside observer. Mike had made sure to never be on the receiving end of this kind of anger. It looked like all his caution had not paid off.

Who in the hell was this asshole? Now Mike was starting to get a little angry. No matter that the way the assailant looked like he could kill Mike at any given moment, he had no right punching him in the jaw like that!

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mike mumbled, straightening up and meeting the stranger’s eyes. He wouldn’t hit back. Mostly because he wanted to know what the fight was about before they continued on with this foray. His father may have been a drunken loser for the first crucial years of a young boy’s life, but at least he’d taught him how to fight before he got into high school.