Rain. He remembered what rain felt like, how it curled around one's skin and cooled the soul. He remembered what stars looked like, how they smiled in the sky, how they felt to the touch. How they tasted.

He remembered a kingdom bustling with colour and life, how the grass was green and how each flower sung with the stories of the forest. How they captured the hearts and minds of his subject with their beauty, though occasionally just capturing them to sait their vanity. He remembered each crystal little heart, fluttering with life in the palm of his hand. How he'd breathed the world into their eyes and saw them light up with wonder.

Wonder. He remembered each wicked dagger twisting through the bodies of the now long-dead. Such a brutal method of adorning his world with magic, but it worked. If only he'd known. Perhaps as time whistled by he'd grown soft, preferring the slow drain of life to the brutal taking of it. He remembered what it was like, in the vague recesses of history, to be savage. To be covered in the blood of the Given, to run free in conscious worlds and to have wild eyes to see through.



Valden stood on the balcony of his palace, alone in pitch darkness. There were no stars and there was no rain. No wild creatures ran through his pristine streets.

In the city below him, occasionally he'd see a few pricks of colour among the black. Sometimes his statuesque subjects would open their bright eyes, and see the world was dead, and dull a little before they slept again...

A horn sounded in distant lands. It crept passed lonely buildings and through winding alleys, it crept up to the Palace. A soft sigh of a sound at first, reverberating off each surface, growing louder till it was deafening to behold. Till the whole city buckled under the weight of it's call.

His fingers gripped the rails as he leaned over the side and stared into a dark horizon - one that, as he peered closer, was painted with the Blood Mark from the neighboring kingdom. A challenge. A tithe. His eyes widened.

A response: a resounding chorus of sweet voices, sweeter then honey, a choir of beautiful maidens adding to the demands of the horn. Far in the distance to the east the sky was painted by the blue Siren Sigil.

Valden's hands were white. Surely if he gripped the rail any harder it would break.

There was no time. A tithe had come. The first in many years. A hunt! A quest!

A human. A human.

With a flurry of movement and not a sound Valden spun on his heels and entered the depths of his beautiful white and gold palace. With a flick of his wrist the rooms and corridors were filled with light; the last of his magic. He went to his throne room, and there he sounded the call. The room was vast and fitted with pillars, a large ornate circular design carved into the woodwork on the floor. It was huge; and here he stood. Here he replied: He would come for a Tithe. He would win the heart of a human.

The chiming of bells filled his kingdom and those awake rejoiced. They turned their heads to the sky and were bathed in the light of the golden-orange mark emblazed above the Capital, above the Palace.

The Call of Clockwork. Life would begin again. The challenge had been accepted.

It could have been a set out of a sleazy, low budget film. Dingy yellow light fixtures, no doubt part of a long gone era, barely managing to illuminate the cramped interior; patched stools and chairs; wobbling tables; booths that had stuffing coming out of ripped cushions and were scarred with hundreds of cigarette burns; a floor crusted with so much grime that no one bothered to attempt cleaning it. A place that was not only steeped in the stench of smoke, beer, and sweat, but despair, anger, and bitterness.

As soon as she'd stepped through the door six months ago, two thoughts had run through Skylar's mind;

First, that there was no way this was an actual, functioning business in a position to hire anyone.

Second, it had happened, she'd finally hit the bottom of the barrel.

Perhaps even lower than that. It hadn't taken more than a couple weeks to figure out that mysterious meetings held in the back room were most likely the main reason Earl managed to stay open. It was unsettling to realize she worked somewhere that was probably a front for some drug ring, or something equally dangerous and illegal, but for the moment she had no other choice.
There were only three kinds of people that came to this place; Regulars that had been coming here forever and were too dispirited to spend a few minutes of effort to find somewhere better to go; Those who were already too drunk and had been thrown out of every other bar to care where they ended up, and those with shadowy purposes and dealings.

"Another."

A slurred demand followed the sharp sound of a glass hitting the rough, scarred surface of the counter, startling Skylar out of her thoughts and back to the present. He didn't even look up as his glass was refilled, head swaying from side to side as he muttered to himself, lost in a haze of foggy memories and fresh pains that the drink was failing to make disappear.
She'd tried to convince him to go home hours ago but it had done no good, so she left him where he was, handing off the task list to Maggie and going to gather her things. On one hand she was looking forward to going home after a long shift. On the other she wasn't exactly keen on going out into the cold evening.

Night fell early in the midst of winter, earlier still when the sky became clogged with dark, low hanging clouds that cut off the pale winter sun. This evening the skies had opened, raining down upon the city sheets of freezing sleet that pelted against the windows with a sullen persistence.
Drafts of sharp air seeped in around the entryway, a taste of what it would be once she stepped outside.

"You be careful out there now."

"I will, thanks Pete. Have a good night." A soft smile curved her lips as Skylar bid the bent old gentleman goodbye. Everyone said he was nothing more than a hobo that took advantage of her good nature. Sure, they both pretended he came in for a warm place to sit and a steaming cup of free coffee, but that wasn't the real reason he came night after night and they both knew it. Whether it was because she reminded him of someone from his past, or it was simply because she always had a friendly greeting and a smile for him, Old Pete had taken a shine to the young redhead. He'd taken it upon himself to check on her as often as he could, making sure she was doing alright and wasn't caught up in something she oughtn't be.
"See you tomorrow Pete," Tucking the ends of her scarf into her coat Skylar gave his arm a gentle pat before bracing herself and stepping out the door, shuddering involuntarily as a gust of freezing wind slammed into her body.

The sleet of earlier had turned into fluffy clouds of snow, innocent blankets of white fuzz concealing a dangerous sheet of black ice that was to cause many an accidents before the night was through.
While she didn't relish the thought of walking, Skylar knew the bus lines had most likely been shut down due to the weather and she wasn't going to hang around the bus drop to find out for sure.
A ten minute walk turned into a thirty minute shuffle as she painstakingly made her way back to the apartment building, hands tucked into pockets, head bent against the wind in an effort to escape as much of a chill as possible.

"Oh!"

She had almost made it home unscathed when a particularly nasty patch of ice and a gust of wind joined forces to sweep her feet out from underneath her.
"Are you okay? Here, let me help you."
Out of nowhere there was a pair of strong, steady hands helping her off the ground, and Skylar was just about to express thanks when she glanced up, the words dying before they could be spoken, a knot forming in her throat as she took a step back, breaking the steadying hold the man had had on her elbow. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather rippled down her spine as he watched her retreat to the steps.
"Thank you, I'm quite alright, just a bit of clumsiness."

She waited until he'd given a nod and walked away before entering the building, chilled fingers unable to punch the code in fast enough for her liking. Blood pounded in her ears as she slammed the door, giving it a rather frantic jiggle to make certain it had actually closed and locked properly.
It was ridiculous. Surely she was just being paranoid and he was being a decent sort of person to lend a hand. But she couldn't manage to completely convince herself of it, hands still trembling as they unlocked the door of her tiny apartment.
Maybe he'd realize she had recognized him and disappear. Maybe he'd be more careful. Maybe it wasn't even him.

All she wanted was an apartment full of light to drive the shadows away, a cup of hot cocoa to drive the chills away, and a mindless movie to chase irrational thoughts back to the little box they'd escaped from. But when a flip of a switch failed to create even a spark, a clear sign that the storm had effectively fried the buildings electricity, Skylar knew none of it was going to happen, and she now faced a night filled with nothing but darkness and her own restless thoughts.

Valden's throneroom was filled with the resonant tones of chiming bells, underlaid by the almost indistinguishable chatter of grinding clockwork. The circular symbol beneath his feet groaned and curled awake, curled panels of wood slipping away. Valden spun as the contraption woke up from it's long sleep, still in impecable condition. The ornate circle disentangled itself piece by piece effortlessly, revealing a stone staircase that descended into an eerie blue light.

Valden's eyes twinkled with dull mirth, the softest, near invisible smile touching his mouth. Could he be capable of happiness? Perhaps not. Watching one's beloved subjects slowly cease to function is no jolly matter. Who knows how many years Valden had stood on that empty balcony, looking out into an empty world.



He descended the steps at a brisk yet effortless pace, curling with the staircase as it descended into the depths of the castle. The light glowed with each turn, until Valden was standing in a cold stone chamber. In the center of this vast room sat a simple pool atop a stepped pedestal, or perhaps it was a fountain. The water glowed with that eerie blue light, still as a picture, and as undisturbed as Valden's citizens. Unlike them, however, it almost seemed... serene. Peaceful.

His footsteps echoed around this empty place as he approached it, the light catching the ornate embroidery in his clothes and bathing his face. A long, slender finger disturbed the surface, sending out a pulse of ripples that allowed a single bead to form and drop to the floor beneath.

It smashed across the floor like glass, each tiny piece forsaking gravity and flying up into the sky. A wind caught Valden's hair as the water in the pool itself began to rise in little drops, each and every one refracted with the picture of a face. A soul. His kingdom's hope.

Valden climbed atop the water's surface, walking along it as easily as if it were the stones beneath his feet previously. The little lights danced for him, they told him stories in a hundred indistinct little voices.
And then one shone through.

A soft rustle of rich fabric brushing against the polished floor broke the silence in the room as Skylar spun in a slow circle, head twisted over her shoulder to check the back of her dress in order to make certain everything was smooth and in place. She had spent weeks searching for the perfect dress, and when she'd seen the vintage gown in the window of a tiny boutique she knew it was perfect.
Tiny sparks of light winked and flashed as hundreds of small crystals caught the light, swirling among the patterns of the applique and spilling down the skirt to create a subtle shimmering effect that somewhat resembled frost patterns.
She had put in quite the effort to look nothing like herself, and now, as she studied her Skylar couldn't help feeling like a different creature entirely.
Of course, that was the whole point. They weren't invited or probably even welcome at the Mid-Winter Ball, and if their plan was to be successful they had to look as posh and elegant as anyone else down there.

"You ready?" Another rustle of silk as Belinda exited the bathroom, eyes already flashing with excitement that Skylar wholeheartedly shared.

Snatching up the delicate, creamy mask laying on the vanity Skylar tied it into place, took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Let's do this."

---

---

It was all Skylar could think of as she stepped through the glass doors into the ritzy banquet hall that had been turned into a ballroom for the evening. No, not a ballroom, a magical place of silvery light, festive music, and a host of people that were no longer who they were, but who they had always dreamed of being.

Glistening chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting golden light throughout the room and spilling out the tall, curving windows. From a distance it had looked like a golden snow globe, glistening and intriguing with the idea of what might lay within once the snow settled after being shaken. But in this case the snow was outside, and all the warmth and richness captured inside the dome.
Belinda's hand gently grasped Skylar's arm, guiding her out of the doorway before someone took careful notice of them. The plan was to sneak in undetected, not cause an entrance scene that prompted the types of questions they would fail to answer properly.

"I'm going to see if I can find Louis before he disappears again," Belinda told her, brushing a bit of hair off the edge of her dusty blue mask. Effortlessly lifting a goblet of sparkling liquid from a passing waiter she handed it to Skylar with a mischievous grin, "Sip on that until I get back, and remember, tonight is for us!"

Tonight was for them. A daring, indulgent treat that they had decided to do one night two months ago, when they realized that Christmas would soon be here and neither of them had any special plans of their own. No family. No parties. No other friends that wouldn't be visiting their own families.
It was then that they had found the announcement for the Mid-Winter Ball, tucked in the pages of a fashion catalog. They had ooh-ed and ah-ed over it before wistfully declaring that the thirteen hundred dollar price tag for an 'invitation' was far beyond them.

And then Belinda had had her brilliant idea.

She knew a friend, who knew a friend, who somehow had connections with the brother of an acquaintance . . . or something like that anyway, Skylar never could keep it straight. What it boiled down to, though, was that if they could find costumes good enough to fit in, and show up late enough that no one would notice a couple extra people slipping in, this acquaintances brother could sneak them in with a pretty good chance of not being detected.



Even now Skylar had a few faint twinges of guilt as she mingled amongst the other immaculately costumed party goers, smiling and nodding when anyone glanced up to see who was in the vicinity. But it was very, very faint, and she consoled herself with the fact that they would not be staying for the supper. What harm was it if they came to dance and see how the upper class spent their time during the holidays, as long as they weren't taking someone's seat and devouring a meal that cost more than a month of rent?

A slight smile curled the corners of her mouth as she took a sip of the delightfully sweet, carbonated beverage, staring out the window and down the hill toward a pretty little ice rink. Soft bits of fluffy snow drifted through the air, caught in a dance of their own as miniature people spun and twirled on the ice. So this was how the other half lived. High above and looking down, content to watch the rest of the world while comfortably nestled in their luxury. She highly doubted half of them knew how to appreciate it as much as they should.

"Would you care to dance?"

A deep, resonating voice cut through her thoughts, a blurred figure appearing in the reflection of the glass. Even his bow was smooth and elegant, a gloved hand outstretched in a relaxed manner, waiting for her to either accept or decline, eyes shadowed behind a gilt mask of pewter grey.

Setting her glass on the windowsill and giving the ice rink one last look, Skylar accepted his proffered hand, eyes aglow with the possibilities of the evening.

"I would love to."

The air was cool against the back of his neck but Velden hardly noticed. The glitzy lights of the human world, trying so desperately to be elegant - and in truth, perhaps managing in their eyes - burned at him with a lack of subtlety that spoke of electric gizmos and wires with no soul or heart. He thought back to his own home, where magic imbued lanterns with a gentle force that seemed to glow and hum all by itself.

Even better, he thought of Ceres' Kingdom, the Queen of Stars and Ruler of the Kingdom of Sirens, a place where light had it's own sentience and magic. One could not beat starlight for subtlety, power or romance, and Velden himself could not deny that such an enchanting land was a million leagues ahead of this place's masquerade of beauty. All kingdoms were strange, but there were good reasons why Velden refused to step foot in the others. Good reasons. Dangerous reasons.

Even a kingdom of beauty had it's dark secrets, as all magical realms did.

Still, as he scanned the door thinking of the vapid thoughts of humans, He knew true beauty was here. The soul kind, the type of purity and strength that could power a world. One unique enough, apparently, that all his shards had called for her in one unified voice. He could sense it, his prey, flitting between the withering souls of the uppercrust in a vintage dress bought from a quaint boutique that few knew about.


"Nothing against my handywork, is it?" purred a soft voice painted with the colours of the night sky from beside him. Velden did not move, but his gaze flicked towards the enchanting creature with deep distain. She'd opted for an eleborate dress that to most would seem reminiscent of petals - but to Velden, who knew her, he was sure she had hand plucked them from her kingdom and imbued them with magic to preserve and give the illusion of textile. Their quickfire conversation went thusly so.

"I was not expecting company." came Velden's deep, resonant reply, but he gave her her arm and the pair began to climb the stone steps to the entrancehall.

"Why, you seem unhappy to see me."

"This visage is not beffitting of you, Ceres."

"Please, call me Cosette."

"That name is not befitting of you either, Cosette."

"She's quite the looker, isn't she?" The phrase cut through Valden's irritability. It was a rare thing to see him so tightmouthed.

They'd handed their forged invitations in and swept through the doorway galliently, ignoring the swathes of people to both let their gaze drift onto the young girl with the cream mask. The two of them stared for a moment, but Valden did not voice his inner thoughts.

"It is hardly relevant."

"Really now?" she sweeped around him and his eyes followed, lifting his hand as if their arms were swans and she was beckoning for a dance, but instead the pair drifted to one corner so they could talk freely. "My dear," she said with a smile that spoke of a happy love life to the humans in this room, "Don't deny it, you've always had a soft spot for the pretty ones."

She leaned in as her arms wrapped around his neck, her cool breath flirting with his ear as he caught a waft of her subtle scent. "A bit kinky, don't you think? Do you like it better when you're grinding a dagger through their heart? Does their blood taste all the sweeter against your lips? You are a vile, nasty man, Mister Valden, and don't I know it better then anyone else."

Valden was by all accounts a patient man, and chivalrous - well, at least while masquerading as a human, at least - but Ceres had a way of tormenting him that drove thorns between where his sense and aggression should be.

He grabbed her wrist, then, pressing his cheek against hers so she could hear him all the better.

"May I remind you, my lady, for that is what you are supposed to be tonight, that while you are under the confides of the human world I can rip you apart piece from piece without consequence. I really do think that for a winter ball, there isn't enough red - don't you agree, Cosette?" his grip tightened, a flash of ferocity entering his usually guarded eyes. Ceres' pretty expression hardened for but a moment.

A soft series of laughs escaped her lips and she lightly batted his arm, as his grip softened to take her hand and the two flitted towards the dance floor. "He does so jest! Darling, this is hardly the time or place." of course, no human could of heard their argument, bar the body language.

So we were playing that game? "Well, I do hope you'll think about my proposition. I do consider it quite delightful."
He enjoyed seeing that brief moment of annoyance seep into her fake smile.

""Well, I do hope you'll keep what I think in mind. Do remember that life is short, and there's more then one player in the game."

That took him aback. In truth he had not expected to see Ceres here at all, and the way she'd said that had unnerved him. She seemed to delight in it, he could tell.

"Relax, dear. I have buisness to conduct elsewhere." Her eyes flitted from Velden's prize and then away to the rest of the room with soft eyes that spoke of a predatory nature. "There are plenty of prospective contacts here for growth in my buinsess. I do however hope you'll remember our little contract. It can be a pain, but every venture is a joint venture, you know." and with that she melted into the crowd to go ruin someone else's day - or for these poor mortals, lift up their lives and then brutally smash them into smithereens.

Velden stood with his arms folded behind his back, a stony point in a sea of dancers. Ceres' cryptic words spelled beware in his mind, but he could not place the missing detail he needed to complete the equation. There was something he had forgotten.

Blast! Either way he had hoped to keep his Tithe out of politics. Everything had just got far more complicated that he had planned. Of course, it had been so long that Velden had taken a tithe that of course the other kingdoms would take note.

He turned on his heels, a purposefully designed walk to look casual but be anything but, as he approached his prize and ward. How could she possibly know of the danger she was in? He'd have to be extra careful to protect her from Ceres... though of course - he was getting ahead of himself.

She could always shun his offer, deny herself entry to the magical world. In truth if Velden had her best interests at heart he'd never had approached her in the first place, for doing so was to set in motion a destiny that could only lead to her demise. As it was now, he thought only of her safety as a mean to his kingdom's end - protecting her from Ceres was one thing, but how could he be so blind as to not realise she also needed protection from himself?

A wanton thought he could not even conceive to dismiss.


His voice cut through the hubbub and low chatter of the room, the music faded for a moment as the pair stood near side by side, his hand outstretched in confident expectancy. Perhaps she thought her life was normal, uneventful, another blip in the big city.That she was just another life in a sea of other uneventful lives. She could not be more wrong.


clink went the glass as it was placed aside and a soft hand was placed in his gloved one.

He whisked her away onto the dance floor as her words rung in his ears and brought a soft smile to his lips:

"I would love to."

Music and golden light swirled about them in a gauzy haze as the orchestra spun an intricate waltz into being, the richness and elegance of tones pairing beautifully with the subtle sound of silks whispering against the marbled floor.
Conversation amongst the mingling crowd hushed, inexplicably reluctant to interrupt the beauty of the music and the dance, content to put aside meaningless words and observe the enchanting scene as it was painted before them, couples spinning and weaving in pursuit of invisible guides.

As a strong guiding arm curved around her waist Skylar's eyes drifted closed and she breathed the music in, feeling it seep through every part of her being and allowing her subconscious to respond, quieting the inner voice that demanded to be in charge and instead allowing herself to yield to her partner's every move.
It was one of the hardest lessons a person had to learn, and though she might have trouble trusting other people to lead in day to day situations, this was one area Skylar excelled at it. After many failures she had finally understood that to truly complement and give life to the pure, untainted nature of any dance, to tell a story and to move as one being instead of two, she had to yield to the wishes and guidance of her partner. Poignant drama was very different from the jarring conflict that was brought on by an unspoken fight for control. One brought breathless exhilaration, the other only managed to create ugliness and twisted interpretation.

A soft breath escaped her lips as silvery-green eyes fluttered open once more, their steps matching with such accurate, fluid precision it was as though they had followed this melody many times before.
He moved unlike any other she'd seen, so graceful and powerful, an air of assured authority and not even a hint of a misstep.
She had a brief, fleeting urge to glance down just to make certain his feet were in fact touching the floor and not skimming above it, but she couldn't, having instead become captivated by the eyes that still hid faintly behind the slanting shadow of his mask.

Light and shadow played together in a dance of their own, effectively concealing the expression within the depths of his gaze. All tricks of light and the intended purpose of a night of such mystery.
Even so she felt there was more to him than a businessman or investor dressing up for an evening of intrigue and lavish displays. There was a subtle intensity she could feel resonating from somewhere deep inside him. In the way he held himself. The way he moved. Even the way his gloved fingers curled lightly around her hand.


A person felt wondrously daring when their mundane existence was hidden with whim and fancy, tucked away behind glittering masks and false personas.
Still, she had to admit even the falseness of his assumed guise seemed to compliment him in a strange way. He fit this atmosphere, as though he was far more suited to this setting than he would be in the ordinary day to day happenings of life.



In the normal world, if they had passed each other in the street there was a good probability that they would not have given each other a second glance. But here, swathed in the glamour of the evening they could be whoever they wanted, enjoying the company of complete strangers with an intimacy that held no strings and no consequences, for at the end of the night they would all part ways and most likely never see each other again.

They had drifted into another waltz before either of them spoke, lost in their own thoughts or simply enjoying the dance and what the evening might bring.

"You dance divinely," It was not a compliment Skylar had ever expressed, but then she had never danced with one so accomplished before, and felt the need to give due recognition. No doubt he had spent long hard hours perfecting his technique. Either that or he was one of the rare few who were born with such a gift.
"In this day and age so many things are becoming a lost art form, it is refreshing to see some of them have not died off entirely yet."
She felt horribly formal and out of character, but it wasn't the easiest thing to start up a conversation with a complete stranger, even if you were supposed to be pretending to be someone else yourself. Plus, a little voice in the back of her mind kept whispering she must be careful or she would give herself away as the fraud she was and be thrown out in due course.
What fun would that be when the evening had only just begun?

A few seconds later their personal space, and any following conversation, was invaded as another couple misjudged their distance and crashed into Skylar and the tall gentleman before either could correct their path.
The rest of the revelers spun around them, undisturbed by the ordeal and simply widening their steps to avoid any chance of becoming entangled in the mess.

"Bloody rotten form! You aren't the only two rotters in the whole bloody room, watch where you're going!"
A string of irritated words, punctured with a painfully fake British accent, began to stream from the bearded man as he scraped himself off the floor, neck flushing red with an instant, unreasonable wave of anger toward a situation that had been his own fault.
His words were crisp enough, and he did not yet give off the stench of over indulgence, but it was clear by the vaguely glassy expression in his eyes that the man had already had one too many of the complimentary beverages offered in the refreshment area. His partner was left to pick herself up, and once she'd brushed a few wrinkles from her gown she slipped off to find someone more genteel to spend the evening with, shooting a look of disgust at his back before disappearing into the crowd without a word to any of them.

He seemed content to blast the pair with unreasonable accusations, but when no apology was forthcoming and he began advancing on them with unpredictable intentions, Skylar subconsciously drifted closer to her partner. Not so close they were touching, but close enough that her body was partially shielded by his left shoulder. He owed her no protection, but it was an instantaneous reaction any woman would have employed under the circumstances.

They eased through the sweetness of flutes and bathed in the warm resound of the cello, spinning under chandeliers that tinkled with sparkling light, marbled floors pristinely preserving each movement as if in a storybook lost to times of lore. The hubbub of conversation ebbed away as the moment engulfed them, and he found himself absorbed in the rustling of her dress and the rhythm of her heartbeat. He found himself curious absorbed in her unusually bright eyes, and for the briefest of moments - or perhaps it had been longer?- Valden forgot to exist and submerged himself in them.

"You dance divinely." her voice called to him through his revelry and it was a long moment before he returned to the room, with it's orchestra and hubbub of hidden creatures dressed in fine silks and chiffons.


He emerged into the hall from wherever faraway place the dance had taken him, somewhere distant and formless that he'd found beyond the silver secrets of her eyes. Somehow her presence soothed him, in a way that sulking as a stoney statue for a few thousand years hadn't.

Hmm. Valden steeled himself. A fascinating case indeed - this human was unique in a way that undoubtedly would aid his kingdom greatly. She would have to be handled... carefully.

"In this day and age so many things are becoming a lost art form, it is refreshing to see some of them have not died off entirely yet."

"You sound world-weary, my dear. In truth I find it most surprising that a jewel such as yourself should hide in a world such as this." He mused, his voice deep and rhythmic in a way that spoke of brewing storms and sleeping giants. Valden peered at her intently with his violet-blue eyes, as if by sheer force of will the mystery surrounding her would reveal itself to him. There was an intensity to his gaze that was lost in this time, an extinct blend that only could be found as echoes and remnents lingering on the edges of folktales and century-old romances.

There was a flash of instinct and suddenly he spun on his feet lightning quick, curling his body around hers and taking the force as two mortals careered into their dance.

"Bloody rotten form! You aren't the only two rotters in the whole bloody room, watch where you're going!"
Threat.

Valden had been very good with danger, once. He'd liked the bitter, poignent taste of it. How it hummed through one's vein and bade one closer, reeling one in with it's intoxicating whispers that spoke in tones of honeysuckle and mirth. The crazed, savage dance that happened on the edge of the blade, on the razorthin edge between sanity and madness, that was where Valden had spent alot of time. Back in the old days.

But this, this human, stood before him, jepordizing his mission, daring to stand against him. Weak-willed and filled with booze, this creature genuinely believed he stood on par with the man before him. It would have been laughable, if it weren't so insulting. And it'd be insulting, if it weren't so excruciatingly pathetic.

"Please excuse me for a moment, dear lady." and his words were measured but genuinely warm.

To her, anyway.

Valden removed his hands gently from his partner and turned towards their assailent, his back to her. His posture was strong, his face the picture of deep remorse, his hands palms-up in supposed surrender.


Each word dripped an unplacable poison, the kind that made this red-faced drunkard's blood run cold, the kind that made the hairs on his neck stand on end. It was the kind of panic that could not be placed, an instinct more feral that conscious, a deep-seated mechanism from a time before memory. It was the kind of fear that brooded on the edges of the unknown, that made children cry in their cots, and it pierced each word like a bullet through glass but thrice as deadly.

The biggest mistake the man made was looking in the King's eyes, of course. He was frozen in a turbulent sea of bluish purple that bade no escape, and he felt his soul shrivelling in his chest as something immeasurably dark jumped forth between their gazes and probed through his being with fingers of ice.

Meanwhile, Valden's nose twitched in utter disgust. Just as he'd thought, the man had no substance. His soul was as thin as paper and twice as brittle, Valden purred past stories of clogged arteries, dying livers, ruined marriages and mounting debt. He curled around what little substance he could find, and toyed briefly with the idea of crippling it right then and there, letting this pathetic excuse for a living bag of meat crumple to the floor right in the middle of this lovely farce.

...But that would hardly help Valden's cause, and he would surely loose the little lamb he'd come all this way to uncover. Frankly, the mortal was so repugnant that he didn't want the trouble. Being in here any longer then necessary was a payment unworthy of such an insect.

But how to use this wasted life to his advantage?

The whole invisible exchange had taken less then a slither of a second. Valden placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, a vice-grip that shot through the man's torso and helped his bravery leek out his toes. He was petrified, shaken to the core, and yet for all his internal troubles - not even a battle of wills had taken place - no one around him, not one, would notice Valden's torturous methods. As far as anyone was concerned, he just tapped him in the shoulder after presenting an apology.

"But my dear fellow," he purred, "While I do appreciate your discontent, how about an apology for the lady? I hardly think such language is appropriate - by all accounts you've spoken quite out of turn to a damsel such as she. You will find her innocent in this exchange, for as you are aware, it is the gentleman's responsibility to lead the dance. The blame falls to me alone." The man's soul shivered, the predator curled around it like a vice, and Valden broke his gaze to steer him, ever so delicately, towards his lady before releasing his grip.

If darkness talked it whispered in voices unheard: don't fuck this up, might have been an appropriate translation as the thorn in this man's being was poised to crush him. It spun slowly in his heart.

"Yes... Well.. Uhrm. No harm no foul, and all that. Bloody floor's slippery as anything, I suspect the cleaner-"

"Pardon?" Valden pressured with a patience that weathered centuries. The thorn turned in warning. The King had to admire his committment to the farce - what sort of being puts pride before survival? Only a human could manage something so strange.
The bearded gent was sweating now. He cleared his throat. "You know it may have been my fault. Sorry."

"My apologies, milady." corrected Valden.

"My apologies, milady."

Valden relinquished his prisoner, and no sooner had he done so the man scurried off to the bathroom and out of sight. The King watched him go with a lackadaisical attitude reminiscent of a cat with a mouse.

He was going to die anyway, of course. Transgressions must be punished - and for some reason he was really irked by the mortal speaking to his prey like that.

The tall gentleman shook his head, turning a warm, gentle smile to his recent aquiantance. "I really do apologise for the people here. I am sure a lady of your tastes is used to much more regal environments."

It felt as if hundreds of eyes were fastened on the trio, even though the dance continued around them, seemingly oblivious to the confrontation, faltering only slightly at the disturbance.
Skylar would have almost preferred that her dance partner didn't even give the man the time of day, for she felt unexplicably vulnerable as soon as he stepped away to face the blustering offender. A cool draft seeped from the panes of the windows, flirting briefly with the coy flames of hundreds of candles before winding its way through swirling gowns and polished shoes, rippling gently against the young woman's skirt and breathing an uncomfortable chill down her neck.
Wrapping an arm about herself Skylar resisted the urge to glance behind her, not wanting to know how many eyes truly were fixated on them. Nor if there would be a flash of recognition behind any of the masked revelers, for the feeling was familiar and a sudden clenching in the pit of her stomach warned her to be on guard.

Yet there was nothing there. Nothing to be afraid of.
Light, laughter, and music swelled to fill the opulent space, chasing away any shadows that dared lurk in the corners, abandoning dreary thoughts to skulk outdoors in the darkness until an end would finally arrive and the party goers must return the way they had come, inevitably claiming their particular sort of dreariness once more.
Even so, in the midst of such gaiety, a place where there should be no room for anything other than lightheartedness and good intentions, there was something lurking still.
Perhaps just the shortcomings of man in general, too fixed in their ways and problems to be able to fully enjoy a trouble free evening.

"My apologies, milady."

The forced words were enough to distract from an onslaught of unreasonable paranoia, and Skylar silently dipped her head in acceptance, wondering vaguely at the sudden change of demeanor that had come over the man.
His blustering quite suddenly replaced by an intensely uncomfortable expression that overflowed until even his appearance became altered. Though not the tallest man he managed to become shorter still, body curling inward in an uncomfortable, clenched manner. Beads of sweat clung to his whiskers, a pallid shade replaced the flush of anger and alcohol, and bloodshot eyes darted everywhere but toward the tall man that directed him.
His mannerisms echoed that of a petulant child, repentant against his will, yet at the same moment a cornered animal terrified by what blocked any possible route of escape.

Truth be told the entire situation was somewhat puzzling. Any men she knew wouldn't have gone to the trouble of forcing a rather public apology. In fact, they were more likely to toss heated words of their own until someone threw a physical blow, thereupon blowing everything into even greater proportions until no one knew what had started the brawl in the first place.
Not that she was typically in the presence of upstanding gentleman, that is. Perhaps this was how true gentry went about settling things.

Yet, as she observed her dance partner watch the man scurry away, she wasn't quite so sure. The feeling of before ghosted past once more, that he strangely belonged in this setting far more than any other person in the room, yet he didn't quite belong here in this time. His entire air was so very different of anyone she had met.
It went beyond the event.

Beyond the mask.

Beyond his mysterious eyes.

When she realized she had been staring, and he had returned his attention toward her, Skylar's fingers brushed against her mask in a slight motion, as though she had simply been readjusting it and hadn't just spent the last few moments studying him.
A bubble of laughter escaped the young woman at the gentleman's statement. Not because anyone else would think it was amusing, but because it was, in a sad twist of fact, the exact sort of environment she was used to.
Realizing she was coming dangerously close to ruining the contrived guise of elegance that had been donned for the evening, Skylar stuck with the ruse, brushing away the comment with a delicate flip of her hand and giving a gentle shake of her head.

"Ah, but is that not one of the perks to being part of a privileged social class? So that one may act as brusque and uncouth as they like and not be held responsible for it?" She shrugged slightly, biting the corner of her lip as she became momentarily lost in thought.
"At least . . . that is what many apparently seem to believe." Her eyes followed the path the other man had taken, a look of pity flowing across her features for the space of a mere second.
"But then there are those who are simply too lost to realize their behavior is less than exemplary. Not everyone knows how to cope with the results of the life they have made for themselves. Not that it excuses them from such tasteless displays, but I try not to judge too harshly, there are so many things that could cause such behavior."
She had seen so many examples of such erratic behavior, as well as some of the stories behind them that Skylar had learned, for the most part, it wasn't fair to pass judgment before one knew the whole story. Besides, she was the last person that should be passing judgment on anyone for making bad decisions. She'd made her fair share of them, and one day she might turn around and find herself in the self same position.

"But it has passed, and now we may return to the evening as it ought to be," Returning to the present she slid a gloved hand through the crook of his elbow and turned attentions back toward the gaiety of their surroundings.

The current waltz had ended and a change was taking place upon the floor. Waterfalls of thinnest gold silk poured from the middle circle of the ceiling, rippling softly to hang just above the floor, every breath of air catching it up for the briefest of seconds.
Lights dimmed slowly until the sole source of light came from the enchanting mixture of golden candlelight and pale, silvery moonlight. Hushed tones of cellos began to hum a haunting melody, joined by the liquid tones of a single harp as the silken ropes stirred once more.
They began to spin and float through the air as a slender figure descended from above, twirling and gliding effortlessly in a dance above the floor.

A story unfolded as the music faded into the background, the aerial dancer drawing every eye in her breathtaking performance. It took several moments, for the movements were subtle, but with a glimmer of light and a dramatic flair to the haunting tone, the audience finally noticed that a second figure had joined the first.
He danced beneath her with an equal amount of grace and dexterity, but every time his hands reached to grasp the slender ropes a twitch of her hand would carry it beyond his reach. So they danced, in perfect sync and rhythm, but yet separate.

So captivated by the performance Skylar almost missed it; the flutter of a white napkin.
The moment was not frozen in time and space, and not everyone was held in awe, servers gliding silently behind the scenes and efficiently carrying out preparations for the supper that was to follow shortly.
A twinge of disappointment tainted the beauty of the dance, and Skylar was no longer able to lose herself in the moment, for she knew it was all coming to a swift end.
The evening would, no doubt, carry on far into the night. But she wouldn't be here to see just how long.

They had solemnly agreed to specific terms.
If they were going to sneak into such an important event both Skylar and Belinda knew it would be vital to leave just as covertly, lest they be found out and discover just what unpleasant consequences might come of their rash plan.
Once the schedule of events had been discovered it had been poured over until every detail had been thoroughly examined. If they had managed to get in and not observed, their evening would only last until just before the call to dine.
Even if they managed to escape detection it would do them no good at supper, for every single setting was labelled with meticulously lettered place cards.

Not a single one that happened to bear their names, that was a certainty.

Still pretending to enjoy the performance Skylar began to scan the crowd in her peripheral vision, searching for a dusty blue lace mask and a mischievous smirk.