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The ball was just getting started, the lords, ladies and the lucky commoners already mingling with one another. And in this crowd, Amryx was trying to find where Olivia had ran off to once more. It was very easy to lose someone in the crowd, and she was surprised she couldn't even pick Ment out. She guessed it had something to do with the fact he wasn't wearing a dress.

"Olivia! Stop running off like that!" Amryx called out, panting and leaning against the wall. "I can't run in heels! Especially cheap ones like these!" She gasped, wishing for a chair. Once she had recovered, Amryx had a look around to get her bearings in case Olivia ran off again.

Looking at Ment running around in his almost-normal attire made her realize that she was missing someone important.

"... OH MY GOD! WHERE'S ADRIAN?!"

---
"Stupid wench," Adrian grumbled, getting himself some punch.

The flinch made Alchemist pause and she blinked once, before withdrawing her hand and offering a sheepish smile in apology. Seconds later, though, she was as distracted as her companion by the cry of alarm, standing up straight once more and searching for the source.

"What havoc be wrought now?" she murmured, tilting her head and wishing her heels gave her just a bit more height to see over the crowd. "It almost seems too soon for trouble to have begun..."

s**t! He was late! Well… he knew he was going to be late but goddamn! not this late! He was like a teenaged girl getting ready for her prom; apparently it takes longer than a few minutes. Walking there didn’t help the whole time issue either, but he was more presentable without his hunk of s**t on four wheels than with. And so he walked the chilly curb, dancing his way from puddle to puddle unable to forgive himself if he ruined his leather riding shoes. They were so beautiful and so expensive! He had to pawn off heirlooms just for them bad boys! He didn’t even want to speculate the interest the rest of his costume would reach after this one night. The wire wings he had ordered were exorbitant, probably from all the birds they had to kill to make them.

So there he was, decked out for a masquerade, walking there, huffing ferociously to finish his cigarette before he reached the mansion. He was waiting for someone to drive by and gawk or shout or throw something at him. Hell, he would have done it. Unwilling to stamp out the butt of his cancer stick with his squeaky clean boots, he simply flicked it onto the road and pulled down his mask which cost him his other damn arm. (It was a black lacquered mask that sat on the bridge of his nose and stopped right above his lips. It had a long beak of a bird of prey with bizarre and extended canines along the edge, dressed with two pairs of ram horns that curled over his skull and around his ears.) Yeah, he wouldn’t be spending anymore money on trivial things like eating and paying bills for awhile.

But he was having fun, which he rarely allowed himself and the occasion called for the best even if his credit cared said neigh. Speaking of which, he pulled out the ticket that had been generously bestowed upon him by a… well... friend of a friend he supposed. And he saw that a few still loitered about outside. Which made him feel a little better. Fashionably late he supposed. Pressing his long ears against his skull out of nervous habit, he stepped as formally as he could to the grand entrance (he didn’t know homes could be built so bloody huge!) and with a tight, closed-mouth grin (too self-conscious to flash a toothy grin) presented his ticket in front of a lovely lady at the door (wondering where her inhibitions lied after a few drinks) with a gloved hand.

Shyer turned her gaze away from the woman she'd watched enter. As strange as it sounded even to herself, the large and exquisite party seemed so dull, and yet it teemed with the same life and craze of a fizzing champagne bottle. It was a pleasure to the senses, that she would not deny. The lights, sounds, music, atmosphere, the various mingled fragrances of food and perfume ( Though she was not to know some of this was the cause of scent children. ), the constant push of exotic fabrics against ones skin at every turn. Not to mention the tables piled high with food she had yet to try but would most certainly make a point of doing so. And of course the usual fact that she detested meeting people's eyes became a gift and she tried to at every chance so as to remember their brilliant and colourful masks. No, she would not deny how pleasing it was to partake in such an event.

But for every positive they added to the one large negative. This was that she knew no one here, alone and feeling awkward among so many prying eyes. Neither did they seem so keen to say hello either though, rather just stare and smile which isn't always that comforting when the smile comes from a man with the mask of a crocodile or a woman as a fish. In fact the more she stared the more creepy it became, and she wished she herself had worn something to cover up her features more. The dress felt to tight and the absence of sleeves un-nerving. She wanted to try and find the ladies room to escape the feeling of being so alone and out in the open, sit in a corner and sip at a glass of something and smile timidly while wishing she had more never to go out and say hello. Hmm, this was beginning to sound more like her high school dances the more she thought about it.

However her gut one out of the desire and her feet turned towards the punch bowl, often having to mutter an 'excuse me' or a 'pardon me, can I please get through?' in rapid bursts while parting lines of three or five people who were all having a splendid time. all the while her mind just kept repeating how she should at least try and say hi, see the other woman standing over there? Yeah just wave. Nothing, obviously her brain and feet had two very different ideas and what she should and shouldn't do tonight.

Of course this sudden course of action changed in literally seconds when she looked behind her in a response to a scream which had rung far to close and still resonated in her ear. Did women have to be so high pitched? A shudder passed through her before she managed to spot the commotion of a flustered woman getting up off the floor stuttering something, her eyes darting towards the same punch shyer had her eyes on. Only now there was a piece of paper floating along the top of it being stained a red color. Well at least this was enough to get her moving away from the wall. Scooping the now soggy ticket out using the punch ladle and draining it by decanting she shook it to stop the drips and looked with a small amount of amusement in her eyes.

"Looking for something, " she looked down at the ticket, "Abigale?"

She was late. AGAIN. Kyoko felt so...STUPID! The green haired girl had already given Kyuubi the ticket that showed he'd be with her, and now she was LATE! Kyoko sighed as she slowed down near the entrance to the masquerade, adjusting her costume. She needed to get a better time sense. She swore it was a hereditary thing, though. Her father was just as bad. The lithe girl presented her ticket, and let the people at the door know that her date had either already arrived, or that he was running late, like herself. She gave them Kyuubi's name, and went in.

Kyoko had retained her 'punkish'-ness...but was also more elegant with it. Her bright green hair was still as ragged as ever, but it was tamed slightly by the black 'gunner' hat on her head. A dark green velvet 'doll' shirt with flouncy sleeves and white lace trim, black gloves, a black knee-length skirt that flared out and had a few lace petticoats underneath it, bright green stockings, and black boots with white ribbon trim. Covering her face was a black mask that left only her eyes and part of her mouth visible. She thought it was fun. Others found it quite annoying.

She stayed near to the nearest refreshment area. Everyone eventually made their way there, so it was her best bet on being able to find Kyuubi. Kyoko's jaw dropped at the assortment of food and drink. This was stuff her father brought home during HOLIDAYS! And...and there was tons of it, not the meager leftovers her father caught before they were thrown out. She immediately went after a few fruit-kabobs and a glass of punch, and settled in for a wait. So many new people abounded in the area and-Oh gods! One of the stuffy women she and Nyoko had run into when they had met passed by. Kyoko slunk back, glaring intensely. To say she disliked most 'stuffed shirts' was an understatement.

Menelie, having arrived (fashionably!) late to the ball, looks around for someone to talk to. She feels awkwardly out-of-place, but hopes to have a good time anyway. She adjusts her halo (she'd discovered the need for a mask, but couldn't find one, so she'd opted for the face-eating halo) and proceeds to hold up a wall. This isn't her normal style, but it was hard to just force yourself into a community.

Sati was on her game tonight, the wealthy merchant making her way through the crowd like a peacock, proud and poised. Well, at least on the outside; on the inside she was tired, dizzy, overwhelmed by the crowd, and desperately hoping no one would ask her to dance, as inevitably happened. She wasn't the belle of the ball; she was rather plain looking on her own, but with her jeweled sari, fancy henna, and heavy bracelets, she did put out an impressive image, the picture of a rich, exotic trader. But she had new customers to make today. That's it, Sati: smile and nod, you're selling merchandise with every friend you make.

The children running about were an easy place to start; Sati liked telling them stories and they liked her. She stopped one running past with a hand light on his shoulder, and handed him a tiny glass marble, smiling as his eyes shone with glee. Soon there was a small group of kids seated around her, begging for stories, and she regaled them with the tale of The Cat Who Became a Queen, an old Tamil folktale.

"There once was a King who had no sons, and unbeknownst to him, his wife was barren. But they had a lady-cat, a beautiful, glossy animal who gave birth to many healthy kittens. So the Queen told the King that she gave birth to a daughter, even though she didn't, and hid the cat away, telling her husband that their child must not be seen until she was married.

The cat was moved by the Queen's plight, and prayed to Parvati, wife of the god Shiva. And Parvati answered..."

Hopefully they'd pass her glossy business cards onto their parents. Even more, hopefully the children would drive off anyone who'd ask her to dance.

A trial of white smoke slowly seeped out of his mouth, and vanished in thin air as soon as he let out a heavy sigh on it. There was a relaxing aura about this place that made him lazy. The young man leaned against the well decorated wall, eyes focused on the crowd that was happily dancing in front of him.

He was taking a break. After having danced with numourous ladies and chatted with them, complimenting them in everyway, he felt a little exhausted. Crystal had disappeared on him some while ago, and he figured she was likely to be in the crowd, holding hands with some other masked man. The thought made his shiver a little, but he brushed it away almost instantly, replacing it with the thought of the shy but pleased smiles of the many ladies he had met. All in good measures, he thought, they were equally beautiful, and like the masks they were wearing, he'd admire them for once, and then would go on.

He strolled back and forth, circling the ballroom and inspecting the decorations and architechture of the mansion. For someone who had been harshly trainned, the young man was not impressed by this place. He wondered how much bigger his mother's ballroom was...and he remembered how he often got lost in it whenever there was a ball. He never truely took part in any of them until he turned 14, when his mother started beating him over the head for experiences in the public. He had developed great skills, especially with the ladies, yet he had never felt comfortable in any ballrooms...especially when he was all by himself. It reminded him of that horrible place she'd throw him into whenever he did something wrong...something that had displeased her.

To dispell that unplesant thought, the young man instead focused on the crowd, passing charming smiles to ladies (and gentlmen) who happened to look over at him. Perhaps he should start dancing with someone again?