Log In

"These balls are celebrations of Fantasty. Is it any wonder why we so delight in wearing masks. Still, there is some benefit to a night of anonymity. With the absense of individuals, we can better see some of the people. Did you see the peacock? He has a splendid tail, and a gifted man's wages in every frond." She looked at Suzerain in his raiment of black and white. "And look how many people defer to him, though they may or may not know what profane truths lie behind his mask. How many peacocks do you know, Suzerain?"

"Point taken," Suzerain grunts from behind his mask. "And not a metaphor I particularly wish to dissemble at the moment." He sighs, looking around at all the revelers. "It is fascinating what becomes revealed in this collective anonymity, though. It shall be... interesting to see what else is brought to light."

"I am curious to see what people expect might be brought to light, if anything, beyond who managed to squish themselves into what manner of guady costume." Winter was certainly less gracefull with her speech just now than she had been, and took off her fur cloak to leave pooled just behind her on the bench where she and Suzerain sat.

"This, I think" she held up her sword, "I think I shall keep."

"Are you skilled with that, my dear? I dare say, it looks rather ornate. No, no, I'd not care to taste its edge, thank you all the same. I've never been one for such savage implements. Leave such things to our slaves and their brutish ways, no?" Suzerain remains sitting, though he has leaned forward intently, hands resting on his knees.

"In the state many people choose to keep their slaves it's a wonder they can put up a fight at all." She looks Suzerain directly in the eye. "I keep this weapon for myself."