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.]]

Comments

[neversets]

I'm loud, painfully honest and a complete open book with my life and emotions. I am the exact definition of a terrible spy.

[ecclesiophobic]

[The exact opposite of him, as well. Darkholmes lie, tell half-truths to their friends and elaborate stories to their enemies. They also have fun, like dancing tonight with a man whose smile reminds Kurt of people and times long gone.]

But the very picture of a good distraction. Send you in the front while I slip in another way. [He starts to say something else when one of his booted feet slip; barely, and he's compensated for it almost immediately. But Kurt's drank enough, and is unaccustomed enough to his feet slipping at all that his tail automatically winds around Apollo's waist to steady himself. Kurt doesn't notice, aiming a thunderous scowl down at his own feet.] I hate these fucking boots.

[neversets]

continued here