do the stars gaze back

cece. 26. occasional writer & roleplayer. former admin. tired grad student. blog under construction.

[cece1x1]

[ albus & avery ]​

     avery had spent the last several months preparing for nights like this - though one could say she’d spent her entire life in preparation, learning the ways of this world since the moment she’d first drawn breath. her mother had seen fit to ensure her only daughter would be well prepared to enter society - they were puceys, and the pucey family could not be seen to be anything less than perfect. with her elder brother quite resistant to making a suitable marriage any time soon, pansy pucey was determined to see at least one of her children make a happy match. so here she stood, fresh from a successful presentation before the queen herself, at her very first ball as a young lady of marriageable age.

     she must give the duke and duchess of wolvesly their due - the masked faces that surrounded her added an air of mystery to the night. it all felt quite magical, and avery could not help but enjoy the freedom anonimity brought her. she was not foolish enough to let herself get too carried away by it - her mother’s sharp eyes would catch any mistakes, masked or not - but surely she was allowed to have some fun. she wanted to dance, to see what all the fuss was about - and if she might meet a nice young man in the process, then all the better for it. the prospect of marriage may have been daunting, but this part, where she was finally allowed to experience the world that had so long been denied her, made it almost seem worth it.

      embroidered green vines twined over the pale green silk of her mask and dress both, as if she were some kind of wood fairy, her dark hair curled up into an elaborate style. her mother was - avery glanced around, realising she’d lost sight of lady pucey, a slight frown settling upon her face. perhaps it was easier than she’d realised, to become lost in this crowd of hidden faces. she swallowed her nerves, trying to appear unbothered by being temporarily abandoned. her mother would return soon enough, and if not - it was not as if there was any danger in this crowded ballroom.

    then she paused. it happened quite suddenly - one moment she was standing alone, and the next there was a young gentleman approaching her, and it was as if all her mother’s coaching fell from her mind. what was she supposed to do, to say? why had she not practiced this more? her worries almost made her miss his question. but there could be no mistaking it - he was asking her to dance! ‘ oh - oh, of course, that would be lovely! ‘ avery replied, then wondered if that was the proper way to accept such a proposal. where was her mother, to remind her of her manners? oh, never mind her mother. she was wearing a mask ; this man did not even know who she was, so what did it matter if her manners were less than perfect?

He'd never had an eye for fashion, but after travelling and seeing the dress of so many cultures, Al had grown to appreciate the intricate details that Lily and their mother spent so much time fussing over. As his eyes roamed over the girl's dress, the vines calling memories of leaves and uncut trees and nights camping alone in the forest. It was a dress straight from Shakespeare: a true midsummer night's dream. Or, at least, he was sure that's what the other ladies must be thinking.

Whoever she was, it was to be a mystery to him, just as the fact that she was dancing with the new Duke of Carneath would have to remain a secret from her. Maybe someone would know her—Lily or his mother. Her willingness to dance with him without knowing his name or his station or even his face must speak highly to the woman before him. The surprise in the masked lady's voice took him aback; surely others would have been clamoring to dance with her in all her splendor. Any man with eyes would be drawn to her.

The straight-forward earnestness of the answer brought a smile to his lips. She was a debutante, maybe. Had this been anything but her first season, the answer would have been practiced, coy. A girl like this would never make it through her first season unwed, of that much Al was certain. She would be engaged in no time. But first, if he could figure out who she was, he would ask her to dance again at the next ball, this time unmasked. Surely sharing the first dance with a duke would bring eyes to her and make her that much more desirable to the eligible bachelors of London. Not that she would need any help to find a husband.

He shook off the hint of sadness that crept up on him at the thought and held out a gloved hand to her just as the music began to turn into something a little more upbeat. "I must warn you, I may be a little out of practice. But I don't think dancing is something one can truly forget."

[cece1x1]

If there was one thing Al had not missed on his travels, it was the balls. James, his older brother, had always been one for a party of any type, even the lavish balls were an opportunity for fun, but Al had never seen the appeal. Maybe he’d been too young to appreciate it, too overlooked. What he’d give now for that anonymity. The few times he’d left the house, eyes had followed him everywhere, gossip about his new title swirling after him like wake from a boat. The masks were the only reason he’d agreed to come tonight. That, and Lily’s begging. The first ball of the London season, her debutante season, wasn’t something to be missed. Especially not by London’s newest duke. The ball was a marked difference from the stuffy one he’d last attended at the Duke of Wolvesley’s house when he’d been the young second son of a duke and the old Wolvesley had been alive. The new Duke and Duchess had added a flair: a masquerade ball added intrigue. Who knew what partners were to be found when their identity was a mystery. Lily had been immediately asked to dance by one of Wolvesley’s brothers, leaving Al alone—both his parents and James had dispersed into the crowd, mingling and looking out for the future Countess of Croilton, whoever she may be—or avoiding her, in James’s case.

The green of the girl’s dress stood out against the crowd, catching Al’s eye. She was beautiful. Something about her was familiar, even if he couldn’t quite place a finger on it. He’d been gone so long, he wasn’t sure he’d have recognized some of the peers he’d left behind. He waited a moment to see if anyone would approach her, not wanted to waste her time dancing with someone who wasn’t looking for a wife, but quickly changed his mind and made his way through the crowd. One dance wouldn’t hurt. “Excuse me. May I have this dance?”

@puceyavery​

[cece1x1]

( aidan & kat )

Phoenix Circus was cracked open, doors unlatched and the contents of countless apartments on display for the sole purpose of a party. Of course they’d been given the option to participate and of course Kat and Anna had agreed. Their door had been one of the first to fling open this evening, their take on Woodstock open to the public… or at least their neighbors.

Kat had been in the kitchen pouring herself another glass of wine, a bottle that she’d tucked away between the pots and pans. Sacred. The punch bowl was perfectly tasty, as were the cans of various ciders and seltzers cluttering their fridge, but wine fit the mood for the moment. Specifically a nice magically chilled rose. As the glass filled, Kat watched from the corner of her eye as someone new snuck on in.

Not difficult to miss: dark clothes in a crowd of rainbow and glitter.

“Excuse me,” she called out, stepping into their what-could-barely-be-called-a-hallway with a hand on her hip and her head cocked, “but you look like you haven’t paid the entry-fee. Can’t be having that, nope, no sir. Sooo…” Kat hummed, dragging out her vowels as she walked up behind him, drawing closer to their body-painting station. “I suggest you walk that pretty arse back over here. If you know what’s good for you.” ( @cecewrites​ & @cece1x1​ )

If he was being completely honest, Aidan had half-assed his approach to the party, big time. He’d rationalized it away; between training and sleeping, who had the time? Besides, a boring apartment would be his ticket into the party without the risk of strangers snooping through his shit. A chalk line on the floor in the shape of a body, some blood red punch and broken glass candy in bowls, and a healthy draping of caution tape wherever it had landed after Aidan threw it was all it took to turn his apartment into a crime scene. 

It probably should have been concerning how easy a sell it was, but Aidan had basked in the work, dropping onto the couch. throwing his feet up onto the coffee table, and breaking out  a bottle of the finest booze he had shoved away in his cupboard. Sure enough, within the first hour of the party, a whopping two people had dropped by, both making hasty retreats. It was exactly what he’d wanted. The only problem? Aidan was bored as shit.

Why he’d picked Anna’s apartment, he couldn’t have said. He’d sent a silent wish up to whatever deity was listening that Kat and only Kat would be home and slipped into the apartment. He stuck out like a sore thumb and, sure enough, she noticed him within seconds. The vague threat of an entry fee had Aidan chuckling; he turned to look and the smile dropped. Body painting. You gotta be kidding. 

One look back at Kat overrode the hesitation.

The grin on her face was putting one back on Aidan’s and with a eye roll he turned to her. “You know, it’d be a shame to get kicked out of such a colourful party. But. I have conditions.” He paused, dragging it out for a moment too long just to tease Kat. “You have to do the honours. My artistic skills begin and end at music.”