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A cute little girl with blond pig-tails and freckles handed Corellia, Celledor, and Cathy (laughs at the C's) each a flier/invitation to the masquerade party. The name of the hostess was simply stated as, "The Queen of Hearts," being the hostess didn't want anyone placing the party as a function associated with the AA...and for the most part keep her involvement hidden. Food was guaranteed to be available, along with drink and entertainment, and for those who could not find their own mask, a basic mask would be handed out free of charge. Date or groups of anykind were discouraged, the ideal desire being that no one would know who anyone else was, or at least not right away. (massive creative dressup is always encouraged).

The little girl screamed, and then dissolved instantly into sand, dissapearing into the wind. The pile of fliers blew through the street, for anyone to pick up.

Arthur grinned. "I guess the big, flashing neon sign is what gave it away." He said. "You go on in. The AoS... well, it's glory days are over. With Ora dead, the leadership has just gone to the dogs."

Corellia looked surprised. "Masquerade? There be one a'come upon us? I should like that. Mayhap ye find a mask to liken't thy face, Celledor. I mayhap be'en not the seein' type, yet... ye seem discomfort of folk. Mayhap'n be a mask to shroud ye, help it? I, aye, I like'n to the dress." She looked excited.

Corellia, for anyone who's forgotten, wears whatever scraps of clothing she can find. These days, they tend to be worn jeans and tanktops.

"Perhaps..."

He glanced down at himself, becoming painfully aware that he had no clothes other than the ones he was wearing now- and they were in all sorts of disrepair. The last area he'd been where he was sure of the sanitation had been the little cafe where he'd met Corellia, and that place was beyond reach since his deposit here.

"...Maybe some of these old buildings have clothes in them."

Celledor did the same, venturing off on his own into another nearby house. When that house was fruitless, he ventured off to another- gathering what useful bits he could as he came across them. After visiting about five seperate houses, he had enough clothes that were both intact and to his liking (Which meant solid white or solid black) to form a passable outfit.

The only masks he was able to find were the porcelain sort meant for decorative purposes, most of which were broken now.

Undeterred, he scouted out a pair of scissors and some thread, and then whistled out an open window to his avian companion.

"Tegan, I need feathers."

"Use your own feathers- I need mine."

"Give."

The bird mumbled something about being unfair, and began to pluck feathers that were close to the end of their existence along his wings and tail, as well as whatever he could reach on his chest and back.

Celledor wasted no time in generating a bird-like mask from the collected feathers, some found bits of cloth as a base, and a few strings of glass beads he'd found in a jewelery box- plus a blackened piece of bent plastic that he was able to fashion into a beak after chipping off some of the remnants around the edges. He finished it with a band of black elastic to keep it affixed to his head.

It wasn't the of the highest quality, but it covered his face and was would probably be passable as something either professionally or custom made.

Thank the gods for artistically inclined sisters.

He tested it to make sure that it fit and would stay in place, and upon gazing into an old mirror, was a bit disturbed by the fact that it looked quite dark.

No matter. Nothing to brighten it up with short of raiding a kiddies room for glitter and glue.

It was getting late- the sun had ceased coming through the window at some point while he crafted his mask and raided the houses for clothing. Now properly dressed and with masquerade requirements adorned, he rummaged through a few more closets in his current location until he uncovered a black long-coat. The bedroom he found it in appeared to have belonged to a male teenager, most likely either a gothic or emo. The coat had a bit of disrepair set to it, but with the general knowledge that night was usually cold when compared to daylight, he took it anyway.

He returned to the streets in search of Corellia and Cathy.

He looked relieved.

Even Tegan hobbling along behind him and Mari in his shirt seemed keen on the idea- not that the mouse hadn't been asleep for the better part of the trip.

"...Sleep sounds nice..."

Way to go and make yourself look like a moron.