Masquerade Mingle

[thespaceopera]

[The night has finally come--the Gravity Rush is nearly upon us! What normally serves as a large performance hall has been gutted, emptied of its boring furniture and rigged up into a fantastical mismatch of technology and old culture. No matter where you go tonight, you're encouraged to move around, dance, play games, whatever helps you sleep in late tomorrow morning.

If you aren't one for scurrying around a ballroom all night, there's always plenty of people-watching to do. After all, so many people are wearing extravagant costumes and elaborate masks. How can you even tell who is who? Get lost in a crowd of sequins, chatter with a sun and a moon, or try to beat the guy in the monster-mask at a game of cards. Meet your friends or make some new ones--this masquerade party has begun!]


[[ooc: All sections are up now, have fun! A related ooc post is HERE for any questions or plotting you'd like to do.]]

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Susan Pevensie

[gentlearcher]

[As soon as Susan steps into the main ballroom, a subtle shift happens in her posture. She knows this. It’s in her blood, in her bones. She moves with the music even as she steps from group to group. She wears the same dress she wore upon her arrival, but found some comfort in her mask. She didn’t have to be of England or of Narnia - none of it mattered, they were all aliens on this planet anyway. She didn’t have to decide who she was, behind the mask. She could just be - and sometimes, she found herself acting as a different Susan as she stepped from one group of locals to the next. It’s too ingrained in her in this environment to try and make sure that everyone was comfortable, having a good time. She’d feel even more lost without it.

She doesn’t stay in each group long and only rarely will she agree to dance with a stranger - before moving on. Strangely enough, she is enjoying herself.

...more strangely, a little later on in the night, she starts feeling guilty about enjoying herself, and begins to fade into the background, watching the dancing from the wall.]

[helluva_pilot]

[Well, Poe recognizes the dress, so the mask isn't much of an obstacle. He's looking particularly dashing himself and feeling very good because of it.]

Hi, Susan! Good to see you again.

[gentlearcher]

[Susan turns when she hears her name, her smile slipping for the slightest moment when she recognizes that man from the Marsiva. Poe. She didn't particularly like to think of that time, but he had been kind. She could manage another smile for that.]

Ah, yes, hello. Are you enjoying yourself tonight?

[helluva_pilot]

[He sees the expression, but he's not going to make it a thing.]

Yeah, having a hell of a good time. Haven't gotten to go to a party like this... ever. How about you?

[gentlearcher]

It's been some time. [Thousands of years... one.] It's nice to see so many people enjoying themselves. I'd have thought that was harder to do, in a planet like this.

[helluva_pilot]

People seem to make the best of wherever they are, so long as they've got some hope. And it's always nice to have something to celebrate.

[gentlearcher]

I confess I find the nature of this celebration somewhat illusive. [She glances around.] I know it's something to do with the smog, but I think I missed exactly what.

[helluva_pilot]

Yeah... I'm not too clear on it either.

But the snacks are pretty good. [He's never been one to turn down a party even if he has no idea what's going on.]

[gentlearcher]

[Snacks. Boys. A quick flash of a smile.]

So it seems you've landed on your feet then. I'm glad of it.

[helluva_pilot]

Yeah, it's not bad. The ships aren't exactly what I'm used to from home, but they're pretty close. And I've got a... friend here, so I'm not just lost.

Mostly feel guilty about not being home and fighting the good fight, you know? The longer this lasts, the harder it is to pretend I'm just on some weird shore leave.

[gentlearcher]

[Her brow furrows slightly.] You're a soldier?

[precedented]

[ He approaches her, with his quiet grace, though he keeps himself a certain distance away. ]

Do you want to fade away?

[gentlearcher]

[Susan abruptly gives Leto the full weight of her attention:] I beg your pardon?

[That question strikes more than a few uncomfortable chords, better to see the whole of it.]

[precedented]

[ A little more gentle, like talking to a wounded animal. ]

Do you want to fade away?

[gentlearcher]

[There were too many answers to that question, and none of which she was entirely certain.

And he didn't clarify, so she asks:] Why do you ask?

[precedented]

I worry.

[ Not a full answer, but he can't give much more. He leans against the wall. ]

And I think it would be an empty world without Susan Pevensie.

[gentlearcher]

[Why on Earth would he worry? She barely knew him.

The familiarity of his words washed over her, and there was such a comfort to her lonely heart that she wants to fall right back into it -- but it wasn't true. He'd known a version of her, once, but she didn't know him.

So, courtly words, and she responds with a courtly smile, ignoring the comfort/affront of familiarity.]

You shouldn't worry. We are at a masquerade, after all. This is the last sort of party for any worries.

[precedented]

Worries tend to crop up, regardless.

[ Though he doesn't look worried whatsoever. Though his manner was sincere, his posture is relaxed and calm, like nothing in the world could possibly alarm him. ]

The idea of masks was an intriguing way to forget them though.

[gentlearcher]

Or hide them, at least. [She smiles a little and inclines her head towards his mask, and maybe it's because he consistently throws her off balance, she doesn't hold back the playful baited question that she might otherwise think too rude to say:] Who are you pretending to be today?

[precedented]

Today? Today I am Leto, heir to the the dynasty. The prince of prophets and fools.

[ There are other, grander titles. The Lion of the Atreides is one, but he wouldn't do that to her. He finds himself constantly holding back his true nature.

It would hurt to have her hate him, he thinks to himself and tastes the truth-sense of it. He is no stranger to it but he would prefer to avoid such an outcome. ]

[gentlearcher]

[There was something very sad about that, but it is a party and it wasn't too long (it was forever ago) that she was the hostess at masques like this, and seeing people truly smile at them was one of her forever joys.

Her gaze was drawn for a moment to the wormskin, not covered by his mask. Susan has seen far stranger things, fawns and centaurs and dryads and she had danced with them all. She doesn't wonder at it too much, knowing him to be as alien to her as she is (should be) to him, but she does wonder at it, briefly, before returning her gaze to his bright (bright) blue eyes. And she smiles at him, a true in the wryness of the expression, one needed only because she attacked when caught off guard..] At least you know who your mask is. I haven't quite figured mine out yet.

[precedented]

You have time.

[ Time enough to explore other options, other avenues. It is important for her to know that, but it is not Leto's place. ]

A mask need not be one thing only.

[gentlearcher]

[It seems in this place, time was what she had the most of.]

Wouldn't that make it 'masks'? [Still with a faint smile.]

[precedented]

Not necessarily, since a mask leaves us open to outside interpretation. Most likely, they will not see the prince or the fool. Most likely, they only see a man with fabulous dancing skills.

[gentlearcher]

[Her smile deepens for an instant, the increase of an angle of the curl of one side of her lips before the outward sign of amusement is wrangled back into politeness.]

And one so modest.