#maskedprompt

[bloodandbella-blog]

Bella's Southern Quirks || I know I'm bad news...

I thought of Angels choking on their Halos Get them drunk on rose water see how dirty I can get them, pulling out their fragile teeth and clip their tiny wings...

There was something just so delightfully sinful about a masquerade. Maybe it was the luxurious feel of it all, the ballgowns and the masks and those beautiful Dior shoes that she'd finally get to wear in public. She was not a romantic girl by nature, far from it actually, and to propose that she felt the glimmer of excitement because she felt the romance of the whole situation was preposterous. So when one of the nameless girls on the team suggested it, Bella hadn't missed when she threw a white hot curling pin straight into the side of her neck. The pin would leave a dark russet mark on her skin for the days and because they all had to attend the ball looking unified and united as one, she wouldn't be excused. As if Bella would have let her walk away otherwise.

Tonight she felt particularly cruel and she wouldn't try to contain it one bit. The same way her dress couldn't contain her perky breasts, she was happy letting all the evilness of her decisions and choices reign over her. That would make sure that she would have an incredible night. On the other hand, someone else most likely wouldn't. But did she care? Not in the slightest.

On came the silky elbow length gloves, followed by a ring with  diamond the size of a small raisin, just sparkly enough to gather attention, but simple enough to remain tasteful. Sure Bella adored attention, the same way the stage called for lights she loved the limelight, but she had enough sense and class to know when to stop and when to go. Her neck remained free of jewelry, but a pair of dangling obsidian stones were strung from each ear, just barely grazing the tops of her shoulders. They reflected darkness when they moved––And if that wasn't possible then hers sure as hell didn't know that.

Below her dress, red as wine and rich as crushed velvet, she shifted in her lingerie, feeling the fabric rub against her skin as she slid her shoes on. The outfit was now coming together and if given the chance Bella would have gladly fucked herself right there and then.

In what felt like mere moments, she was ready, and waiting for her limousine to arrive. Until the sleek, black stretch pulled up outside, she had been running her fingers across her chest, marveling in all her exquisite beauty and wondering just how anyone would be willful enough to stir trouble when even she couldn't keep her eyes off herself.

Hopefully, there would be one idiotic person who would be stupid enough to mess with her despite her ravaging good looks. She had to count on that to make the night.. Interesting. If not.. Well, there was always Jake.

[rhiannonfindley]

meet me in the pale moonlight | prompt #1

There were covered faces everywhere. Left and right, no matter where she turned. Rhiannon was overwhelmed by the amount of people surrounding her. She felt as if she was back in the water, with everyone crowded together and her, feeling like the outcast. The feeling of being the fish out of water had become something Rhiannon had now become accustomed too. The feeling hurt, it left a pang in her heart, but she could hide it better. The only way it ever really lifted was when she was Adriana. But where was Adriana? 

Picking up a glass of a red coloured drink from a tray that was floating through the crowd, Rhiannon shook her head to herself. She wouldn't dwell on her insecure feeling and her fears. Now wasn't the time for that. She had come to this Masquerade Ball for two reasons, and two reasons alone. One, The Siren Times had assigned the interns to report on the event so that it could be featured in the next issue and Rhiannon, as always, was striving to come out on top. Two, Adriana had said she was going and wanted Rhiannon to accompany her.

Squeezing through the crowd, putting her drink over the heads of others so it wouldn't spill completely, Rhiannon found herself outside of the mass crowd and on the sidelines. She was in the breathing space. Looking around, she tried to see if she could spot Adriana amongst the crowd. She had become quite good at this, and it surprised her as a while ago, she had never noticed Adriana then all of a sudden, she was everywhere she looked. 

Except now. She figured that her girlfriend would be late, but it still made her anxious. Rhiannon was always the more punctual one out of the two, and it frustrated when Adriana would take hours and hours to show up or get ready. Taking a sip of her drink, Rhiannon makes her way towards an open ceiling to floor door that leads out of a balcony. Some fresh air should do her some good right? 

Walking right up to the balcony, Rhiannon has a view of the entrance seeing people pile out of big and small cars alike as the moon shone down on her. She sets her glass down on the balcony, letting out a deep sigh. The event was night, real lavish, but nothing intrigued her about it. She wasn't used to fancy, that the amount at the ball overwhelmed her. Most of the Shipwreckers didn't attend as they thought it was a joke, and made fun of Rhiannon for attending but she tried to convince them that it was for the paper. Other than Isla and Isadora, who she had seen earlier, she didn't really know anyone. 

Looking down at a pair of headlights that just pulled up, Rhiannon expected a couple, probably an old man and a young girl who were already drunk, to stumble out but that wasn't it. Instead, a pair of legs slid out to expose fair skin from a slit in the girl's dress. Rhiannon was in awe when she saw the girl emerge from the car. It was Adriana and Adriana was stunning. Almost knocking over her drink, Rhiannon leans over the balcony a bit more to see if she could get her girl's attention. When it didn't work, she whipped out her phone, she texted her where she was before slipping her phone away and smiling to herself.

Maybe tonight was going to be a good night after all.

[victoriabouvierarchive-blog]

mother dearest ✧ self-para

Tagging: Victoria Bouvier

Subject: Masquerade Ball

Timeframe: Hours before the party

Raffle Number: 62

Victoria stumbled into her house, dirty and her hair mangled, her curled waves disheveled. Her brown eyes were glazed and red, burning evidence of heavy drinking. She had spent the better half of the day drinking and Victoria had enjoyed herself... perhaps a little too much. The once electrifying alcohol now slowed her, the fire in her soul dimming. 

Victoria half-stumbled, half-dragged herself into her house, wanting to sober up before getting ready for the Masquerade. She loved masquerades as they excited her. It was a party where Victoria was her true self... A human with a devilish mask. The small puppy she had rescued a few days earlier yapped happily and she gave him a small pat before walking down the hall. With her blurred vision, Victoria wasn't completely aware of where she was going and found herself walking in the direction of a place that, when sober, she completely avoided at all costs― Her father's study. It was odd because she had meant to go to her room but she also made no effort to change course. Instead, Victoria held onto the wall for support before finally being able to grab ahold of the door handles. In one swift movement, she pushed the doors open and was greeted with the scent of old books. At the center of her glossed vision was her father's chair. Standing in the doorway, Victoria took a shaky breath and closed her eyes― her foot stepping inside the room.

Victoria hesitantly walked in, her movements slow as if the floor would give out underneath her. It'd been a month since she last went inside the room and years since her father had been there to greet her. The sadness that overcame her heart as she walked in was enough to sober her mind. No amount of alcohol, drugs, or happiness could outweigh the devastating loss she felt. She approached the beautiful wooden desk, her fingers grazing the detailed carvings. A fleeting smile found its way on her lips as she remembered how her father would talk about how it was made by the best wood carvers in Italy. He had spent a fortune on the desk and cared for it as though it were made of diamonds... Victoria carefully moved away from the desk, afraid of the memories, and towards the small shelves behind it that were filled with her father's favorite books. Her hand skimmed the titles before dropping them to her side. She couldn't. Heaving a sigh, she pulled out her father's chair, crawling into it. She leaned her head against the back of the leather chair, hoping that if she tried hard enough she could pretend it was her father's chest and she was six. A tear slowly leaked out of her eye as her hoping was in vain and her mind refused to let her forget he was gone if even for a moment. Silent tears made their way down her cheeks as she pulled herself up, deciding the pain was too great to bear. Gently tucking in the chair, she moved away― wiping the harder falling tears away.

After everything, Victoria was human. She pleaded with the darkness that surrounded her each time she fell down, begging it to leave her be. However, crashing and breaking wasn't a foreign thing for her. It happened much too often when she was alone. Demon blood or not, Victoria held onto her humanity, clutching it as though it were a security blanket. Her demon side might allow her to take on the world and more but her humanity gave her a sense of morality and purity. It was the only thing that reminded her she wasn't a monster... As she turned to look back once more, Victoria was met by a beautiful young girl, sitting in her father's chair― wails leaving her shaking body. It took Victoria a moment to realize that it was her she was seeing from the day her father died. Victoria watched her crumble before her eyes, however, there was something that still shone. Something that was hardly visible in Victoria now... Victoria stood for a moment, gazing in awe and heartbreak before heaving a breath, turning around... and walking out. She closed the doors behind her― Her humanity left locked inside.

Victoria stood outside the hallway before proceeding to lay down on the floor. It was something Victoria had done as her father had gotten sicker and sicker. She would face the door and listen to him, making sure he didn't cough too hard nor he suddenly stopped shuffling. She could still remember the feeling of her heart stopping when he coughed. It terrified her. Because of that, Victoria would often stay there until she fell asleep. Eventually, her father would open the door and although fragile and weak, would carry her to her room. Now, she faced the door of her father's study and listened, knowing there would be no coughing, no shuffling and no one to carry her to bed. 

Victoria woke up a few hours later, sober and aching. She glanced around before remembering her surroundings and what she had done mere hours earlier. Just like that, Victoria changed. Her demeanor turned cold and untouchable. Heaving herself up, she walked away from the hallway without a second glance, her expression stoic and unaffected. There would be no goodness tonight. That part of her was silently burning in her father's study. Tonight Victoria's pain would unleash her demonic self without hesitation. Hell was on its way into her heart and there would be no turning back. Victoria walked upstairs slowly, maliciousness in every step. No soul. No heart. No thoughts. No memories. Nothing but evil for tonight, oh tonight, Victoria would be her mother...

[rooviola]

masked ♔ self para

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." o.w.

Growing up on the streets didn't lend very many opportunities to attend parties.

Andrew wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to get used to parties like this. They were all the same; dim, golden lighting to give a dreamy aura to the room. Gold and silver decorations only enhanced the idea that everyone there could easily be pocketing a thousand dollars at any given time. Men in tuxes and women in dresses with several feet-long trains and dazzling earrings and jewelry stood around the ballroom; a congregation towards the middle of the dancefloor and sparse little wallflowers hanging around the edge holding glasses halfway full with crimson liquids. Even the looks on the townspeople's faces- right down to the last flirtatious smirk on every other man's lips and the coy smile of the remaining women.

They were all the same, completely and utterly predictable to every last dangling decoration, and yet Andrew still couldn't get a handle on what to do with himself. What to wear was the first problem. He never had anything formal enough that wasn't restricting to him. He hated fancy clothing, it made him feel like he was wearing a shell instead of fabric. Luckily, he owned several suits for work, whenever he needed to make appearances at JMT. They were only dug up on few occasions and for nights like this. Nicest thing he could find was a maroon tweed jacket and pleated black pants, which he wore cuffed over deep brown oxfords. Even the shoes, however casual they were, felt restricting on his usually bare feet.

The next decision was wear to stand. Did he want to stick to the edge, be quiet, and not draw attention to himself? Or did he want to do what he would love to do, move towards the center of it all to dance? Andrew never claimed to be the best with manners, but in situations like this, he couldn't help but feel hyperaware of everything he was doing. Where he put his hands, the expression on his face, how the fabric of his jacket fell over his torso. Everything. 

He was glad Lou was there. The presence of someone he knew was just as out of place as him was somewhat comforting. It set him at ease having her next to him as he walked through the entryway, his muscles relaxing slightly as he weaved his way through the crowd and towards the edge of the room. It was comforting, also, that he was wearing a mask. Hardly recognizable to anyone who didn't know the curve of his lips or the tattoos that were still visible from the edges of his clothes.

He leaned against the wall, watching the men and women twirling around the center of the room and the people surrounding him, talking and the punch bowl and decorations. He took it all in, every last detail, trying to make sense of it all, trying to determine his next move.

[louainsworth]

Miserable At Best | Prompt #4

But I guess That I can live without you but, Without you I'll be miserable at best.

[ezra-smythe]

the masked knight || quirk #4

Ezra's fingers were itching to begin, as he sat on the piano stool waiting for the okay from the Snows. He had been asked to play for the ball tonight, and even if no one knew who he was, he was willing to share his music. It wouldn't bring him any publicity at all, but he was used to playing just for the joy of it. He felt alive whenever he performed, and tonight would be no different. Besides, he didn't have enough money to get into the ball himself, and he did want to experience the night. The rich and the beautiful of Barton Hollow were often the most interesting, he had found.

Told to take over about an hour after the ball began, Ezra was determined to snoop around until then. The mask, however tight and annoying, kept his face hidden from everyone around him, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn't know if anyone would approve of him being there, and the only person he really wanted to see was Lola. He imagined she would've loved something like this, and loved dressing up. She would've found an elaborate dress at a resale shop or on the sales rack at a nicer boutique, and maybe even decorated her own mask for the occasion. He could see it now, her hair piled on top of her head in a fancy updo, and a smile gracing her lips as she stepped inside. Things seemed to always lead him back to her ghost.

Shaking the sad thought from his head, he started to play. His fingers played a delicate melody, starting off with a song that had no words. The crowd seemed to fall almost silent, or maybe that was just his imagination. He wasn't sure exactly how to separate his dreams from reality any longer. Though he didn't know if that was a bad thing. It certainly kept him happier.

After a while, he had gotten lost in the music. So lost that Ezra  barely felt the hand on his shoulder, reminding him that there was yet another talented musician waiting to play. Told he could take a break, he smiled graciously and bowed towards the audience. As a few of the polite people clapped, he took a deep breath and headed off into the crowds. It was time for a drink, to make his head stop spinning so damn much.

{Raffle Number: #63}

[tamsynyoungbloods]

the stars died so you could be here today

The stars weren’t shining the night of the ball. But it didn’t matter. After all, Tamsyn mused as she spun around the dance floor, switching from partner to partner without discrimination or care, I’m shining for them. 

Her dress flared as she twirled, sequins reflecting the light in a myriad of colors that stood out against the dark fabric. She was not a mere star tonight. No, she was a galaxy in and of itself. 

She threw her head back laughing as a stranger lifted her up. She wondered offhandedly if he could feel his energy--his life, his soul--flowing into her from where his calloused hands carefully gripped her slim waist as if she were delicate, breakable. 

And who needs the stars when they have me?

(Raffle Number: #24)

[madelineainsworth]

Commedia dell'arte | Masked.

There wasn’t a word for it, for what Madeline felt as she stood by the entrance of the new hospital, watching the throng of people as they flowed in and out of the building. She was no longer a human, but rather a Molotov cocktail of emotion that, the longer she stood there, the closer she came to exploding. Part of her longed to rush forward, to allow herself to be swallowed by the sea of bodies and succumb to the excitement that rippled beneath her skin. Oh how fabulous it would be, to lose herself in the night, to forget all the pain and darkness that ruled her life, to truly enjoy the evening for once. And she could easily do it, hidden behind the golden mask that moulded around her facial features and matched her floor length champagne gown. All she had to do was take her other mask off.

However desperately she tried, the other mask wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t let her rush forward and announce to the world that the real Madeline Ainsworth had arrived. Because really, she didn’t want to take it off. Taking it off meant laying bare every lie and every sin she’d ever committed, meant revealing herself as a fraud, meant that the guilt would seize control again and she wasn’t ready for that. Madeline knew it would have been easier to simply stay at home and curl up on the couch with a film and glass of wine – and until lunch time that same day, those had been her exact intentions.

It had been twenty odd years since she’d done anything like this – it had been nearly impossible with a child, and so she forewent it, and then by the time Autumn was old enough to attend and enjoy it, Madeline’s evening was spent in a corner, watching and worrying – and the idea of it intimidated her, it just didn’t feel right. But then she found the dress, hanging in the back of her wardrobe, tags still attached, and realistically, when would she get another chance to wear it?

Madeline took a deep breath and stepped into the crowd, allowing the ebb and flow of coloured material to guide her. A nervous grin spread across her face as she handed over her ticket and checked in her coat, advancing onwards. Slowly she edged around the room, careful not to bump into anyone as she moved towards her desired destination.

“Bourbon, neat,” Madeline called to the bartender, leaning on the makeshift bar as he passed her a glass. She took a sip. If she was going to do this, then she would need a little help. Just one, to calm her nerves. Madeline took a bigger sip.