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Palace Longest Night Masque, 1186 Pt. 1

Find below, and the next post, the longest night transcriptions from the palace fete. Enjoy!


The party is in full swing, has been for some time. Costumes, masques, feathers, jewels, ribbons and all manner of finery abound in the spectacle that is the longest night. Servants circle bearing trays of food for many to nibble upon, the other trays are filled with small glass flutes that contain the enjoyment of the evening and key phrase. Joie. The sweet and burning liquid from the flowers in the camaline range. Floating oil lamps cast thier light, music spread across the room as people dance, mingle, sit or speak with one another on this Longest Night.

Coming off the dance floor, the ocean curtsy's to her partner then looks about her. She plucks a glass of Joie from a passing tray and holds the tiny flute in her hands as if contemplating what exactly to do this evening.

Jingle-jingle. A sleek female cat saunters into the ballroom. Dressed completely in black velvet and leather, with tiny silver bells tied at neck, wrists and feet, she heralds her arrival with the tinkling sound of the bells. Her eyes take in the room and as a servant passes by with a tray of joie, a pale paw reaches out to take a glass.

If any couple is bound to spark rumor and controversy this Longest Night, it is the raven-haired pair that next enters the ballroom. Their pace is slow and august, the young lady's hand bestowed on the crook of her escort's muscular arm. As they approach, anyone would be able to pick out their thoroughly Kusheline features among the crowd, even despite their golden and silver masks, respectively. By way of their costumes, it becomes obvious that the couple has come dressed as the legendary knight Lancelot and his star-crossed lover Lady Guinevere, her hand stolen from the mythical King Arthur.

For her part, the young lady is, indeed, a sight beautiful enough to make kings fall. The legendary queen-consort is dressed in a stunning gown of ivory silk that might have been inspired by the Terre d'Ange-that-lies-beyond, with long, sheer sleeves and gently flowing gossamer skirts, with golden slippers peeking out from beneath. A gilded satin bodice is fitted against her petite torso from chest to hip and laced with golden ribbon, placed just so to accentuate the curves there invitingly. Her shining raven locks are worn voluminous and wavy about her shoulders, an exquisite crown crafted of gold and topaz placed atop her head. About her neck is a small raven claw charm wrought of diamonds and onyx, suspended between her breasts by a fine golden chain. Though a gold-leaf gilded mask hides most of her face, bright grey eyes are visible beneath, and her apricot Cupid's-bow lips are curved in a perpetual knowing smile.
 
Tonight the legend of Sir Lancelot Du Lac, right hand of King Arthur, Conqueror of the Dulorous Guard and Queen Guinevere alike, walks cooling among the d'Angeline people, his handsome face masked in silver. The man is graced with a slender build, but one implying tremendous durability. His dark hair is well-hidden beneath a chain-mail coif, furthering his disguise. Only his eyes give him away: the shade is darker than pitch, and seem to reflect more wisdom than one his age should possess. He is clad in silver chain-mail, and a golden surcoat bearing the mythical crest of Camelot. It is the armor of a Knight, though obviously costume by design, yet the dark-hilted Gladius sheathed at his side is a fine blade, and fit for a true warrior's hand. He carries himself boldly and confidently and always appears at ease, though he seldom truly celebrates. This Longest Night, he's made an exception. He appears to be an experienced warrior and traveler; in fact, all aspects of his carriage and body bespeak a military pedigree. Only the adornment of Queen Guinevere on his arm states anything to the contrary.

The ocean pauses at the entrance of cat, followed by the princess and knight. A rais of brows behind the leather mask. She lifts her small glass up to the trio since the cat had picked up a glass as well. "Joie to you, this longest night my lord and Ladies" Intoned to the trio.

Black Cat sips from her glass of joie and slinks around the edge of the crowd, her sharp and curious gaze taking in all she passes. Here and there, her head tilts as if trying to figure out who one might be behind their mask. As she walks, her tail sways and little bells jingle. When the Ocean-themed woman raises her glass, she does so, as well and nods in agreement. "Joie to you all." she murmurs.

Sir Lancelot plucks a glass, affording it to his lady before seeking his own. He nods delightedly, raising the flute and countering the toast. "And to you Master's daughter. Joie." He flashes his most charming smiles, motion to the well done costumes, here and there. His dark eyes sparkle with admiration. Such lovely creatures his fellow D'Angeline's.

Receiving the glass of joie with a warm smile from her Knight, the Lady's grey eyes sparkle behind her gilded mask, taking in the uninhibited revelry of a fete for what seems to be the very first time. She affords the lovely Ocean a little bow, the gossamer of her sleeves glistening with the movement. "Joie," she accedes happily, putting the little glass to apricot-colored lips and indulging.

"You have all missed the Butterfly over there, toppling over from the jackal" The ocean indicates the down butterfly and the menehket Jackal tending her "Who stepped upon the trailing edge of her wings" She takes a moment or two to soak in the image of the three costumes. "My lady feline, I can tell who you are, but my lord and lady pair I do not. Might you enlighten?" The older ocean speaks.

"We are but a pair of star crossed lovers," the Knight explains. "My Queen," he motions to Guinevere, "fell prey to the charm of her King's First Knight." With that he bows sweepingly to the lady of the Sea. "To be said truth, we are fiction from Alba. A sensual fairytale of love, lust and betrayal. I am Sir Lancelot and thus my Lady Queen Guinevere," he introduces.

Black Cat tilts her head to the side again, regarding the Ocean woman silently for a moment. "How disappointing I am that I am so transparent, Milady." she says rather dryly, before downing the contents of her joie in one gulp.

With the revelry already well under way, guests begin to gossip amongst themselves about what manner of spectacle will accompany the arrival of the King to the fete - and whether it might be the Queen or his Maitresse that decorates his arm. When the monarch does make his appearance an hour or two into the fete, it's impossible to miss him - on his brow is a cruel and twisted iron crown, and his costuming is done in ebony and crimson, lending the garb a sanguine effect. He wields a leather lash in one hand, which he arches through the air with a loud **SNAP** to draw attention his way. Turning, and extending one hand, a second figure enters behind him - she is dressed in a confection of violent organza and emanates with her beauty, a chillingly serene counterpart to the King's austere costuming. She moves forward, setting her hand in his, and then the pair turn to face the gathered assemblage of guests. A servant comes forward with a tray, and they both accept slender glasses of liqueur. "Joie to you all on the Longest Night," proclaims the King, downing his drink in a single swallow - the toast is echoed by other guests throughout the hall, and cheers erupt. Then the musicians play on, and everyone settles back into the festivities joyfully.

The ocean turns her gaze to the Cat. "Transparent, perhaps, but a beautiful costume none the less my lady. As are all those who are in attendance tonight. The bells I think were a good touch" There's a nod for the Knight, but the entrace of the royal pair prove to be distraction. Up goes the Ocean's glass when the King toasts, in her own frothy silk salute.

The shining Knight turns his dark eye on the Cat. "I wouldn't say so my mysterious friend. The scholars of the Tiberian Empire term you Panthera pardus. A dangerous and sneaky cat." He smiles drolly, turning towards the King and downing his Joie in a smooth gulp.

The violet clad beauty leans in to bestow the King with a kiss, the taste of joie lingering on her lips as she steps back. From beneath the shimmering mask the edges of lips curl into a smile, and she turns then to face the crowd, examining the costumed forms with apparently curiosity.

Regarding the velvety Feline's comment with a wry but amicable smile, Guinevere returns her attention to the topic at hand. "Star-crossed, indeed," the raven-haired woman adds, "As most fairytale loves tend to be." At the entrance of the King, however, the lady goes silent, watching as the royal pair moves into the ballroom. The whip the regent wields coaxes a little chuckle from her unexpectedly, and she joins the rest of the room in murmuring approval of her serene ensemble. At last, the toast is made, and the gilded princess raises her glass in turn, downing the rest of her joie in tandem with the King.

Black Cat shrugs a shoulder at the Ocean. "Oh, I know, Milady." she replies. "Just how lovely indeed my costume is. Else I would not have chosen it. However, I do commend you for knowing my idenity so quickly, when I only spoke four words aloud, and quietly at that." Her lips form a small half smile before she turns to the Knight and gives a playful chuckle, raising her hand into a fist and giving it a little shake to make her bell jangle. "Dangerous and sneaky indeed." she says to him. If she was to say anything more, it is halted by the arrival of the King and Queen. She immediately slinks down into a graceful curtsy for them.

The ocean blinks at the woman and waves it off. "If I knew my lady, who you were, I'd still call it a lovely costume" But like that, whatever confusion the older woman is having is washed away as she places down the used glass and plucks another as she greets a passing robin to compliment the costume.

Black Cat rises from her respectful curtsy to peer once more at Ocean, appearing confused, as well. "Pardon me, Milady, but I was sure that just a moment ago, you confessed to knowing my idenity, hence my saying I must be so transparent. Are you now saying, Milady Ocean, that you do not know whom I am beneath my mask?" She seems genuinely curious of such and as she awaits the other woman's reply, she plucks another glass of joie from a passing tray.

"When I had spoken transparent my lady" The ocean answers. "I had been referring to your costume. Feline. I apologize if you thought I was slighting you in any form. I was not. Might I suggest we restart our introduction and carry on?" The ocean offers, taking another glass of Joie and passes it to the Feline. "I am, the Ocean, at sunset. You are?"

Moving to one side to make way for a courtier dressed as a emperor of Tiberium, Guinevere stands on the tip-toes of her golden slipper, fancying she sees a few familiar faces. The smile on her face is endless, as she obviously enjoys the opportunity to gaze upon others without her idenity being realized. Stopping a young attendant to steal a pair of glasses for herself and Lancelot, the Lady affords the two women nearby a cordial bow of her head before grasping her escort's shoulder and pressing him playfully in the direction of the monarch. "I think it's time we said hello."

Black Cat shrugs again and downs her joie in one gulp, but waves away the offer of another glass. "As you like." she says to tOcean. "Pleased to meet you, Milady Ocean. I am the Black Cat." At that, she sticks out one leg, making the bells on that shoe hangle, and then once more, she extends her fist, pointed downward, shaking it to make that bell twinkle as well.

Emerging from a crowd of revelers gathered near the door, a Serpentine woman moves with slow strides, the low lights of the evening shimmering against the dramatic cut of her black gown. Much like the snake she embodies this evening, her every step seems to hold beneath it a hiss, her carriage sleek and confident. At her throat gleams jewels most impressive, they themselves recognizable instantly by those in the know, even if she is not.

"I believe you to be the Daughter of the Master of Straights," The Knight glances from the Cat to the Ocean "If that is what you are madam," he looks back, dark eyes fixing on the darkly dress woman "and you my feline friend. A panther. House cats don't carry themselves with your air." He chuckles, lightly patting his Queen's hand. "As to the truth of either of you I have no clue," he states. "Joie," then he shifts to escort Guinevere where she deems.

The ocean laughs, deep and throaty. "Not the daughter of the master of the straights. Not in the least. I am the ocean, or some might say in the city states, asherat herself. But thank you sir knight, you should tend to your lady love. Perhaps the lovely feline might aquiesce to joining me as we make our way to your same destination" The ocean offers. There's a glance though to the new entrant. "I have not seen that out in ages' She murmurs.

Black Cat inclines her masked face to the Knight and gives a throaty purr. "Yes, but does a panter well bells, Sir Knight?" She greens and passes her grin to his Lady, before turning back to Ocean. "I would be pleased to follow you." she says to her, before her eyes then follow the other other woman's, over to the Serpent and the pendant she wears.

After a while, the Scourge King takes his leave of the violet-garbed Queen, wandering adrift through the hall and returning greetings from guests as he does so. Ultimately it's the Serpent's side he gravitates to, and he even greets her with a kiss to the neck, adorned by a set of opulent ruby gemstones.

The Serpent seems to smile as King puts lips to neck, red lips visible beneath the dark mask. "Careful, Majesty. Serpents bite." The low tones of her voice are familiar enough, as is her cool confidence as she snakes an arm up to wrap around his neck. With hidden eyes she searches the group, most notably those who seem to have already noticed her. "Joie" is her whisper, to everyone and no-one in particular.

The Splurge King makes his way through the group of people, wielding his scepter of authoritah. Powerful indeed, the cream and sprinkle drollops mark his passing left and right, clearing the crowd in front of him like the old yeshuite tale of that old man parting the sea. "Good evening!" he announces merrily, masked kiss set upon whoever decides to stand their ground. He's splurging allright.

Pulling the Knight along behind, Lady Guinevere presses her way through the packed ballroom, brazenly meeting masked gazes as she passes. It is near the center of the hall that she finds her destination, having finally made her way into the King's immediate presence. Approaching him and his serpent with her knight no doubt flanking her, the raven-haired woman affords the scarlet-clad regent a bow, though perhaps not with as much obeisance as others might. "Your Majesty," she addresses him, her voice still cool and calculating, though it is warmed slightly by joie.

The comment draws an amused chuckle from the Scourge King, whose palm finds her cheek. He whispers something low against her ear, cupping her face to him until they are approached by a pair of costumed revelers. Of the two, it's the man who the monarch's interest is drawn to. "Good evening," he says, seemingly to them both but more to the Lancelot, who receives an inclination of Bastien's head.

The cupcake ruler and his fancy entrance capture the brief attention of the Violet, who smiles, amused. She drifts through the crowd without particular direction, her eyes lifting to study those around her as if intent on finding something in particular. When that fails, she pauses to greet guests quietly instead, soft wishes of joie offered to those who would hear them.

Black Cat 's attention is drawn to the new arrival. The man dressed as...what is he exactly? Sloth? Gluttony? Her eyes lower over his costumed form, taking note of his white boots and raising slowly, lingering over the various food stains and bits of spinkles, up to his crown of..."Elua." she breahes quietly. "Is that..yeast adorning his head?" she asks to no one particular. However, she does step forward and gives her wrist a little jingle as she bows to this Monarch. "Joie to you, Good King!" she greets him.

Sir Lancelot follows his ladies lead. "My King," he offers politely, bowing. A hint of Military training in his gate. Beneath the silver mask his dark eyes shift restlessly from costume to costume. "Your Majesty might rest assured tonights fete is spectacular. There is no place in all of Elua, I would rather be." He smiles his most charming smile, stepping aside for another guest to greet the King.

It's not quite standing ground so much as getting in the splurge's path and not realizing it. The cat speaks and neomie turns at the perfect time for the kiss to be placed on the oceans own blue lips. A faint remark of suprise and if perhaps a moment or two of a kiss back. "I do believe it is" once she pulls back, as the feline greets the king.

Before the costumed knight has opportunity to move away, the King leans in his direction and utters some quiet observation or another, in a comment too low to be heard over the din of revelry. Afterward, he returns his attention to the Serpentine beauty at his side, lending her his arm wordlessly.

"Mmm, I agree. The night is still young indeed." The Serpent whispers back to the King, not quite quietly enough to not be heard. She slides her arm over his and allows him to lead her where he will, though the words. "I only have one...do you think they'll let you in?" linger on teasingly.

There is a smile as the Splurge parts from the ocean, somewhat cleaner on its wake as some of the stains from his attire get 'washed' upon the foam and shift of the water above. The unsceptered arm slides to take hold of the silver-haired beauty, and holds her to himself even as she starts to pull back. The Feline is greeted with a mock purr, followed by a raise of the sceptre to press briefly upon the curtseing cat's shoulder. "Joie to you, in this longest night" he announces, near laughing at the look. "Say nothing, you /must/ be after the cream."

The charming smile and his stepping aside for another guest to greet the King, doesn't change. Not after receiving the short pleasantry from his Majesty. If anything he smiles brighter, his hearty voice rising in laughter. "Joie to you too sire," he echoes from behind the guests that now separate them. beneath his silver mask he looks about for the Lady Guinevere, whom he's accidentally lost among the lovely costumes.

Amid the merrymaking, the King and his companion manage to weave their way out of the hall, moving slowly amongst the revelers until eventually, if one were to attempt to seek them out, they might find it could no longer be done. They seem to strike out for the fete on Mont Nuit, if their conversation of swapped teases is any indication.

Black Cat 's lips twitch at Splurge's comment. "Well, Your Majesty certainly has an abundance of it, hmm?" she notes, eyeing his costume pointedly. But, being as she was right next to Neomie and close enough to him that he touches her with his sceptre, she is also close enough to get a whiff of the scent that clings to him. Sweetness. Maybe too much for her, what with the yeast and bits of food and all. She seems to suddenly swallow quite convulsively and even takes a step back, giving an almost inaudible little whimper.

Affording a brief grey-eyed gaze to the King's sinuous company from behind her golden domino, Guinevere settles her stare back on Bastien, watching without any hint of amusement the exchange between himself and the Knight to her left. Elegant dark brows furrowing behind her mask and lips seeming to purse briefly beneath it, the topaz-crowned woman removes herself from tightly-pressed group silently. When she spies Lancelot seemingly gazing about for her, the Lady's hand slips between two peers to touch his elbow briefly, heavy with chainmail, letting him know where she is, if it is, indeed, her he seeks out among the crowd.

The ocean just reaches up, a pull on the ear of the splurge and in turn, some of the white stuff from the top. A smile spreads across her face. "I haven't smelled that in ages... " And she licks her finger of the white shavings that come off. "Not yeast my lady feline. It's Cocunu.... Are you well my lady" The ocean's voice filled with concern even as she notes the departure of the king and serpent.

Before the Serpent is quite from the room, she casts a glance over her shoulder, taking in the chattering group and the somewhat green looking cat. Its hard to tell beneath the mask what expression her eyes hold. Amusement, calculation, indifference? Either way, there isn't long to tell, and suddenly she's lost in the crowd.

It must be, for the that Queen he looks. At her touch, the Knight presses his way through to her, easily taking her hand in his and slipping the second around her waist. Now to dance. The musicians play a lively enough tune, why not oblige them? He spins his Lady, with graceful strides. A smile worn for all to see as he begins to sway with her. "Joie," he shouts! Nearing the place where Felines, Cake and sea water meet.

"I feel I'm going to be food before the night is over" the Splurge remarks, eyes flickering from behind his mask. "But The Sea's taste is perfect, and she can tell just what it is I wear. Perhaps she is deserving of another taste, hm?" Only when she asks about the Cat's retreat does he turn to watch her, eyes narrowing slightly from behind the slits of his mask. "Is Milady all right?" As if to reassure himself he moves forward towards her. Closer.

Black Cat swallows again but turns to Ocean and forces a smile. "Oh, quite well, Milady." she assures, even giving her wrist a little jingle to bely any thought to otherwise. "Coconut, you say, hmm?" And now she forces her eyes back to the Gluttonous Monarch. "Must be that scent, mixed with all the joie I have consumed, huh?" A little laugh is given but then the man is moving closer. With his sweet stench.

Although Guinevere obliges the Knight's insistence for a dance, she doesn't appear at all pleased with the prospect. In fact, she doesn't appear pleased at all, period. It seems the exchange (or lack of) with the King has soured her mood. She moves in tandem with Lancelot, however, following the smooth motions, albeit reluctantly. Her free hand rests on his shoulder, firmly grasping the mail there, as she glances back and forth between her escort and the three sticky and sickly courtiers nearby.

The ocean just looks between the pair, before her gaze catches the violet. "Ahh look we have a lurker. Perhaps if you might douse her with some of your sugar, she might become a sugared violet yes? A delicious treat"

Its easy to lose a shy violet in the crowd. What with the shrinking and all. But in case anyone recalls the presence of a particular one off to the sides of the crowd, they might note her taking a glass of joie off of a passing tray and thanking the servant who offered it. A few various animals, assorted fictional royalty, and the occasional deity mingle nearby her, exchanging quiet words now and then.

Sir Lancelot stops with the changing of tunes. Allowing Guinevere and himself a moment to catch there breath. He appears jolly, perhaps due to joie? It is flowing freely at this point. He has the opportunity now to see Splurge's costume and he gives him reason to laugh once more. His unending smile is shot to his Lady, and he motions she should look the clever disguise over as well.

"A honeyed violet" the Splurge says with a surge to the side and towards the indicated flower. "Is a delicacy in many countries abroad" He smiles as he considers the challenge, which seems to set him just slightly away from the greenish-looking cat. What? It's contagious?. He drags the ocean with him forward, smiling in the direction of the others. "Come and let's see!." The approach slows as he gets there, a smile forming upon the Splurge's lips. "What say you, will she fly with the wind or stick to her roots?"
Long distance to Violet: Ocean hug "it's okay

Black Cat breathes a sigh of relief as the Ocean distracts the Splurge away from her. She takes a few deep breaths, filling her nostrils with air not sweetened by the man's various foodstuffs. Another servant appears, offering her another glass of joie, but declines and slinks her way over towards the exit. Here and there, she gives a polite nod or a tinkling laugh and jingle of her bells to those she stops and chats to.

"A honeyed violet" the Knight calls out. "My lord is a well traveled man indeed." He chuckles grabbing to glasses of joie off a passing tray.

With the dance at hand finally done, the fictional Queen appears to be trying to regather her wits. Running a quick hand through her volumninous dark locks, Guinevere reaches over the head of a courtier nearby to grab another glass of joie off a passing tray-- her fourth of the evening. Downing it in one swift motion, she returns her attention to Lancelot, whose uninhibited and uncharacteristic revelry is beginning to unnerve her visibly. In a half-amused attempt to satisfy the man's request, the petite woman turns to settle her gaze on the aforementioned king of confections, her brows furrowing.

'Good eve my lady feline! Joie to you!" To the departing cat as the ocean becomes the tide and is carried along towards the shrinking violet. A glance to the fictional queen and knight before he is curtsying to the VIolet. "I confes my lady violet that the confection beside me instends to sugar you" The older woman cautions. "Do nto do so without a fight"

It takes a moment or two for the violet to notice the King of Sweets and his surrounding entourage, though when she does amusement registers below her pale mask. At the ocean's greeting she tilts her head, perhaps registering curiosity. "What makes him assume that I am not sweet enough as is?"

The Splurge king grins at the Knight's call, reaching to near-lift his crown (though he fails to, mind you, it is more a gesture than an act) and offer him a half nod of recognition. "I do Try" he remarks, grinning broadly in acceptance. The black cat is followed after that, with eyes rather than feet, but the pastry king remains in the ballroom himself, returning his attention a second later to the violet's reply to Ocean's warning. "I am never content with assuming, thus I must test those assumptions when challenged. What shall it be, a challenge of taste?" He grins "I wager, tonight, I am sweeter than thee"

Black Cat actually isn;t leaving. She just slinks over to the exit, where the cool draft from the Hall beyond can reach her senses. She remains in the Ballroom but does not leave her perch for the moment.

Pale lips curl slightly as the Violet smiles, considering the question only briefly. "I fear no such wagers, and am confident that I can match you in sweetness and more. Test as you like, you will not find this Violet too shy for it."

"Where's a Bryony when you need one" The ocean looks to the knight and fake queen. "Come, you will help me judge who is the sweeter, yes?" Drawing the two forward with waves of her hand. A few nobles around them in various costumes and states of sobriety are cheering
Sir Lancelot lingers around with his Lady, watching The Splurge king and Violet from behind his silver mask. He grins, obviously enjoying the fete to its fullest. He may not even make it to Mont Nuit. "Of course," the Knight calls, tugging at his attractive and queenly counterpart.

Challenge issued and taken, the Faux-King smiles to himself as he turns to the Violet's side. "We should allow those around us to taste, and taste true then," he replies, winking to Ocean just once. "I shall leave the manner of the tasting for each to decide, of course, and we'll taste last." An eyebrow lifts to the shrinking flower, which causes the fluffy crown to tilt dangerously for a moment.

Black Cat 's lips curve upwards as she watches the interaction between the group, amused, it seems. However, she does take her leave now, slinking out silently and stealthily while everyone else is occupied.

With only the briefest of hesitations the Violet nods, her demeanor charming beneath her mask. "Very well then. Does the wager have a prize besides honor that we should bear in mind? The title of the Sweetest might be enough for me."

"I suggest the stakes be fun for all," Sir Lancelot says, sipping another glass of Joie. "Perhaps something fair to the event too. The Loser will unmask?" he glances around, dark eyes behind his silver disguise seeking the approval of his peers.

It's with obvious though reluctance that Camelot's queen follows the Knight to watch the spectacle. At this point, and in her slightly-inebriated state, she would be happier going back to her own chambers than watching the various blatant displays of intimacy and foolishness between courtiers. Slipping into the small circle of nobles debating sweetness, the raven-haired beauty perches herself silently at Lancelot's side, arms crossed lightly before her... but only until an attendant passes by with another offering of joie.
Dove has arrived.

"Hear hear sir Knight. The loose shall unmask" The ocean declares. "Who is it who wishes to taste first. The taste being the Lady violet and and then the ... plurge king?" A gesture with her hand wich sendes the hem of her dress fluttering and the "waves" crashing against her neck.

"Ah, the shame, to be both loser and unmasked for all to see." The Splurge King seems to be fond of the idea, nevertheless, because he says so with a smile. "I think I like it, so, and we can leave the monetary gains to Bryony. One at a time, you first" he gestures to the one who issued the wager terms. (That is, the knight-prince-stuff) On an aside he looks to the ocean, considering, "Purge indeed, I think the cat would most definitely agree with you at this point."

The Violet smiles again, the tilt to her head causing fabric flowers to sparkle. "It seems a fair enough price for a fair enough wager. Thank you, gentle Knight, for your fine suggestion."

Better late than never... Fashionably late... Whatever kind of 'late' it may be, late the couple entering the Ballroom is. Accompanied by a male courtesan dressed as a rabbit is a stunning vision in the mask of a dove and a white gown thin as gossamer that floats about her like mist, seeming to barely conceal what lays beneath, as though if one but looked hard enough, those mists would part. This isn't actually the case, but the illusion remains there. Rather than holding the arm of his companion, the rabbit instead has hold of a silver chain attached to a white collar about her throat, stamped with vines that hold the purple flowers of House Valerian. Dark eyes peer out from behind her feathered mask, taking in the assembled revelers.

Sir Lancelot notes his approval to both. He detaches himself from the lovely Guinevere, casting a backward glance at her. Some silent exchange between the pair. He slowly makes his way around Violet, looking her up and down. His dark eyes visible, yet unreadable behind the silver mask, hand linked behind his back. After a full circle, he stops in front of her. Then as easily as walking he pulls in close and presses his lips against hers, his gate both slow and steady. Tonight the right costume was worn, because he kisses the woman in a fairytale style that most only wright about. It lasts a moment longer the necessary, all things considered. For now we can blame the Joie. Lancelot takes a deep breath and clears his throat. "Well..." are the only words he'll offer at the moment.

Well. Maybe Neomie's had a few too many glasses of Joie. She had meant to say another word, but it stands the way as it is. And the ocean grins when Lancelot advances. "Sire Knight. Your verdict?"

The Violet is taken off guard at first, but the kiss is met as kisses ought be, and with something beyond a courtier's skill at that. By the time he pulls away she is breathless, licking the taste of joie off her lips with a slowly deliberate motion.

Downing what appears to be the fifth... no, sixth?... glass of fiery liquor, Lady Guinevere returns her attention to the ante at hand, pursing her apricot-hued lips into a pout. Things were proving to become more interesting, especially when the Confectionary King suggests Lancelot be the first to taste. A muscle in her jaw flexes visibly, but for her part, the fictional queen says nothing, and watches the knight advance and claim the kiss that anyone might have expected.

The splurge king tightens his grasp on the Ocean, "Not yet, Madame. Let's just wait until everyone has decided before they give their opinion, yes?" No undue influence in here. He does watch the kiss, though, seeming thoroughly amused at the choice. "Well, yes, That is exactly what I was talking about." However the prince's companion may take the gesture only makes his smile grow. A little.

"In a moment my Lady Ocean. I must be fair." Now on to the Splurge King. Sir Lancelot regards the man in the same way, considering all the different morsels that are available. He reaches out for something, but stops himself, thinking better of it. Instead he completes the full circle. There are so many options. Truly the costume maker was clever to conceive this. He looks the man square in the eyes and tosses up his hands, "There are just too many treats M'Lord." His clasps his hands on both sides of the man's face and gives him a wet kiss on the lips. It doesn't last, for when its over his stumbles back laughing.

Lifting her head to murmur something to her companion, the white Dove gestures towards the game at hand and is led forward with a slight tug upon her chain. The pair approach the circle of onlookers and join it, the dove's head cocking to one side in a very bird-like fashion indeed, the movements she makes causing the dress to billow and swirl around her. "How interesting," she can be heard to murmur, traces of a faint Aragonian accent tinging her voice.

"Fair is fair" The ocean answers, a giddy smile for the kisses, a wink to the violet. "Now, perhap someone might find some paper and charcoal yes, so that the knight can write his answer down, and the Lady queen can take her turn now, at finding who is the sweetest" The oceans instructs.

The splurge king waits for the Knight person to decide, eyes remained well poised... well, until his face is taken of course. There is a second of held breath the moment intentions become obvious, though from threat to action there is not enough time to decline the attention. It is quick indeed, and if the splurge's factions darken at all that is fully covered by his mask. That, and the sharp poke of cream-sprinkled scepter to the laughing knight's shoulder. "Joie indeed, someone has had enough" there is more than a little humor on the sound, really.

What looks to be a donkey runs off to fetch what the Ocean requests and with uptmost haste. Can't let it stop the game that is happening here.

Ah, another glass of joie down the hatch. At this pace, someone might have to carry Guinevere out of the ballroom within the hour. Setting her empty glass back on the tray from whence it came, the Lady's grey gaze settles on the sticky king across the small circle of revelers at mention of her turn to taste. She almost declines, though thinks of better of it as she glances at the actual Queen in turn. Stepping into the middle of the circle, she makes her way first to the man, evaluating him, her gossamer skirts shifting and shimmering, nearly transparent, so as to show off the slender quality of her legs. She comes close, closer still, to the man, her gilded half-domino mere inches from his own, her sweet breath no doubt landing against his chin. Guinevere moves to stand on her tip-toes, and with the lightest brush of her lips against his chin, she instead plucks a violet grape from his crown, and slips it between her lips, piercing the sweet fruit easily with her teeth.

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