#chapter v.

[spiritvalist]

OPPOSITE — @billxbarker​ the ballroom, spring equinox ball

Magdalena twirled, smiling pleasantly at her partner and tilting her head back, briefly closing her eyes and relishing the tinge of dizziness brought on by the swirling blackness as she lost herself to the tide of the dance. She opened her eyes, and her smile briefly widened into a joyful grin at the muddled vision of the ceiling that soon melted into the visage of her partner’s smiling face as she faced them once more.

She couldn’t recall the last time she had lost herself to raucous revelry in such a manner, and despite all her doubts and reservations about the ball, she was grateful that it provided her with an opportunity to drift away like this. Almost as though the dance was echoing the trail of her thoughts, a shift in the music ushered a switch in partners and soon sent Magdalena fluttering away. A hand clasped hers and she readily gripped it, turning around to face her newfound partner with a smile -- only for her heart to abruptly lurch up and launch itself at her teeth, right behind her swiftly faltering lips. She found herself caught in Bill’s arms.

Her steps never wavered, her body compensating for the betrayal of her heart and carrying her through the motions of its own volition, keeping her precious composure outwardly intact. Magdalena lowered her gaze to Bill’s throat, fingers shuffling inside the grip of his hand and across his shoulder in what could easily be perceived as a flustered manner -- if it weren’t for her, thankfully, unfazed expression. Or at least the way it remained unfazed until it inevitably fissured with aggravation. A small scowl tugged at her brow, and in a tone of irritation so mellow it could have been mistaken for fondness, she muttered, “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

[spiritvalist]

OPPOSITE — @eleanorewhittock​ the main hall, spring equinox ball

Itching for a reprieve after spending a long time dancing and carousing in the ballroom, Magdalena ventured back into the main hall, immediately making a beeline for the open buffet. She stopped in front of the long, brimming table, eyeing the wide assortment of delicacies and refreshments. Mr. Ashton certainly hadn’t spared any expense; a suspiciously magnanimous display for an event aimed at strangers, regardless of whether that applied to Mr. Ashton’s relationship with the crowds as a whole, or to the relationship of the guests amongst themselves. It would make sense if the gathering was limited to a specific class or community, but there seemed to be no such commonality among those around her -- they seemed to have been plucked at random from all corners of the city and given this gift with no apparent purpose nor preamble.

She didn’t trust it at all. Yet she could do nothing but bide her time and wait for whatever revelations the night was meant to rouse. Curbing a sigh, Magdalena continued to survey the table, leaning in towards the person standing next to her after drawing their attention with a gentle tap on the arm. “Have you tried anything yet? Forgive me, but I would just like to know what’s good and go for it right away. I can’t be bothered to try things.”

Chuckling, she finally looked at her companion -- only for the lightness of her expression to abruptly grow taut, her eyes sharpening as she recognized Eleanore from Muiris’ seance. The woman whose ghost had sung her an eerie, blood-curdling lullaby; the woman whom Bill had appeared to care for and comfort. A curdling mixture of shame and self-directed bitterness burned its way up her throat as she looked away. She swallowed uneasily, resisting the urge to cross her arms against her chest. It was too late to walk away; she had already initiated conversation, and now she had no choice but to see it through.

[spiritvalist]

OPPOSITE — @theundertakcr the main hall, spring equinox ball

Even though it had only been an hour or two since her arrival, Magdalena was diligently waiting for the other shoe to drop; for the bubble of revelry to burst and for the haze of indulgence to catch flame, ushering Mr. Ashton’s artful illusion into decisive implosion and laying its hidden core bare. Yet when it finally happened, it wasn’t in the way Magdalena expected, nor in a way that exposed the true purpose of ball like she had been anticipating.

She sensed an emerging presence from beyond the veil, distinct from all the ones that she had already grasped. It brushed past her senses in a cold, ill-boding trickle, drifting and circling in a free roam that set it apart from the other spirits who, stagnant as they were, seemed to be anchored to objects or individuals within the hall. It unnerved Magdalena to sense it swiftly drifting out of reach, certain as she was of its malignant intent and instinctively suspicious that its abrupt arrival might be linked to the ball somehow.

Aware that many of her friends and acquaintances were present, Magdalena scouted for a familiar face around her; sighing with relief when she laid eyes upon Rahat. She approached them, announcing her presence by gently gripping their elbow. “Rahat... ” She called as she stepped before them so they would face each other, lips parting around a request for their aid that momentarily got derailed once she noted their attire. “Look at you. You clean up nicely. I can’t tell if I’m surprised or not.” She teased with a smile as she trailed her gaze down their form. But then that frigid presence brushed past her again, and her expression sobered, head turning briefly in the spirit’s direction. “I’ve sensed a presence,” She declared as she looked back at them. “I feel that it’s up to no good and I can’t help but wonder if it’s linked to Mr. Ashton somehow.”

[spiritvalist]

OPPOSITE — @aproperdandy the poisonous garden, spring equinox ball

Standing the way she was, hip cocked, hand clasping a champagne flute while the other propped up her chin, posture still with rapt attention, one would think Magdalena was appraising a piece of artwork rather than the barred gates of a prohibited area. Yet it intrigued her to no end; like every other aspect of the ball, this garden was surely there for a reason. Not to mention that if Mr. Ashton truly wished for it to be avoided, he most likely wouldn’t have allowed it to be advertized the way it currently was, with its looming, blatantly unlocked gates, ornamented name plaque, and crowning jewel in the form of a rather appealing skull-speckled hazard sign. It felt like a joke at the expense of overly inquisitive guests such as herself. It also felt like something that she was most definitely hyper-analyzing in her current tipsy state.

With her guard having inadvertently been lowered by time, indulgence, and extraordinarily typical proceedings, Magdalena’s perspective had devolved into the same frivolity and narrow-mindedness of her fellow guests, and she couldn’t quite be bothered to berate herself for it at the moment. Looking around, she was surprised to find a man who appeared to be embodying her exact state of mind; surveying the garden precisely as she had been doing a foot or so away. Pleased by the sight, she approached him; stopping by his side and tipping her chin at the gates with a smirk. “Are you also tempted to test just how poisonous it actually is?”