MASQUERADE PARTY

[masqueradeparty]

[the day of the party has arrived!

right around dinnertime, fairies will try to round up every single character and gesture, lead, or pull them towards the courtyard. there, the miniature castle has finally been completed! there are fairy lights and beautiful singing all around you, and it looks like there's some kind of a party going on in the castle, but...

...but it's still so tiny. how could you possibly get in there? it would be hard just to get your hand through the front door!

but the fairies will persist, and as soon as a character steps into the fairy ring...

they find themselves in the ballroom.

this post has been forward-dated to tonight, of course, so mingle in the comment sections and have a fun time with the different rooms.]

SECTION LINKS FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE:
• The Ballroom
• Side Rooms
• The Garden
• The Altar

Comments

[samson]

[He snorts, nuzzling his be-masked face into her neck. Maybe he's had a little to drink, too.]

Why.

[molotov]

You scared me.

[samson]

Don't tell me you don't like being scared.

[molotov]

I hate it.

[She's almost whining when she says it.]

[samson]

[He snorts again, letting go of her to sit down next to her, handing over his cigarette.]

Then why'd you marry me? I don't scare you?

[molotov]

[She takes it and sucks down a large part of it.]

Nyet, you are like one of my bears. Soft and nice.

[samson]

[He rolls his eyes, leaning against her and lighting another cigarette for himself.]

I'm supposed to scare you.

[molotov]

Never.

[samson]

Why not? You know what I can do.

[molotov]

You would never do it to me. You love me.

[samson]

So? You'd do it to me.

[molotov]

Not anymore.

[She sighs and then nuzzles against the side of his face.]

[samson]

[He blinks once, then again, keeping still as he tries to uncover any sarcasm or trickery in her voice. But she's too drunk for that, so he turns to look at her instead, holding the side of her face and inclining his head toward her.]

For real? You're being serious.

[molotov]

[She makes a little whiny noise when he turns, because it means she can't nuzzle anymore!]

Da, uh-huh.

[samson]

[Watching his thumb as he absently traces it along her lower lip, Brock leans in more to press his forehead to hers.]

When did that happen?

[molotov]

Back then. Before we got married.

[samson]

At home?

[molotov]

Nyet, here.

[samson]

[He stops touching her lip to play with her hair, though he's still staring at her mouth.]

When?

[molotov]

I can't remember. Just one morning, I did not want to anymore. I would hate you sometimes and then I didn't.

[There's some slur to her words.]

[samson]

You don't hate me anymore?

[molotov]

Nyet. Not even when I am so mad at you I cannot see.

[samson]

How can you get that mad without hating me?

[molotov]

Because I love you more.

[samson]

[He slides his hand around to hold the back of her head, putting his cigarette out on the side of the bench.]

Tell me how much you love me.