───𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘.

Masquerade [Technoblade]

Starring : Sir Billium from the tales of the SMP

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I hear there's a special guest tonight."

You turn to look at the suave voice, a wispy sound floating through the air to grace your ears. The woman regards you with a tilt of her head, a narrowing of her sepia eyes, a thin smirk upon her pomegranate lips. Her tawny tresses fall to the side on her shoulder as she raises a champagne flute towards you.

"Cheers," you murmur as you hold up your identical glass and knock the rim of it to hers. You lean on the balcony rail and stare out over the party guests, tugging at your masquerade mask with lax hands and tightening the strap that keeps it close to your face and around your head.

"Some say it's Sir Billium."

You almost choke on the sparkling wine as you stare at your friend. "The Sir Billium? What does he want?"

"Don't ask me why he's at your party. People just come."

"Do the bouncers here not check the invitation list? I need better security control. I sure as hell didn't invite him." You scowl as you bit your lip, staring out over the crowd of guests on the floor below the two of you on the balcony.

A sea of muted, tasteful dresses – swatches of evergreen, frost, cantaloupe, blush, sapphire, merlot – seeps in with the salt-and-pepper crowd of tuxedos. Only visible are the crowns of their heads – blonde, ginger, brunette, black – and the masks they carry with them, all matching their respective dresses or tuxes. They mill about the room, creating polite conversation with each other in lowered voices as their eyes wander the vaulted ceilings and sleek wood-paneled floors. A few couples decide to dance in time to the live music, their steps graceful and reserved as they waltz.

Outside, the classic blue is smeared with vermilion paint, tinges of deep orange and saffron tainting the elongated fingers of soft clouds. It paints the depths of the river running adjacent to the ballroom a bloody red, the reflections of the bridge and bank dancing and shimmering in the failing light.

"Hey," you whisper, nudging Vesper with your elbow. "That guy hasn't stopped staring at me." You tilt your champagne glass at the man below while watching the bubbles rise in the pale golden drink in your glass. Selecting a canapé from the porcelain platter a passing waiter carries, you pop it into your mouth and chew thoughtfully before looking back down – only to see that he had disappeared.

"He's coming up the stairs," she mutters, knocking back her champagne before depositing the empty container on a waiter's tray and picking up another full glass. Her eyes narrow over the rim of her cup at the approaching figure sauntering over. "Keep your mask up and don't make eye contact. Let's see what he wants." She takes a sip of the chardonnay, leaving a vermillion stain on the crystal.

Looking through the arch windows, the sky is tinted a deep indigo, faint dabs of cotton candy pink and pastel blue clinging to the final vestiges of light. A small expanse of black dotted with flickering stars is visible through a gap in the cloud sheathing ; the moon hangs precariously in the sky, a pale circle casting an off-white light on its surrounding area. The chandeliers overhead flicker on, their soft golden glow illuminating the area and casting fairy lighting upon all the guests.

"Hello there" his smooth, baritone voice rings out, cutting through the thick veil of music separating us from the rest of the guests. "Might I have this dance?" He bows elegantly and extends a hand to you in an open invitation.

His golden and black mask sits low on his nose, catching the twinkling lights shining overhead.  The glimmering lights of the diamond chandelier overhead illuminate his features and his lips, pulled into his trademark erudite smile. The male casts his gaze at you, his fringe of brown falling over his diamond-studded disguise.