But with nothing but silence ricocheting off the walls, Griffith found his confidence starting to slip. The shoes he’d worn to the masquerade were stylish and gave off the aristocratic air he’d become all too good at emulating, but once he’d closed the doors, he’d nearly torn the strap pulling them off.
A masquerade gives Griffith the perfect opportunity to let the mask slip.
(Explicit, for @gyodragon and @berserkexchanges)
The chilly night air wrapped around him, a welcome reprieve from the nearly suffocating heat of the ballroom. He closed his eyes and braced his hands on the stone, taking the first deep breath of the evening.
As a boy, he would spend evenings watching the last rays of sunlight caress the castle from the roof of his small house. Now, with the castle behind him and the sun before him, the view from above felt even lonelier than the one below.
“Admiring your kingdom?” a familiar voice said behind him, and he turned to see Guts braced against one of the pillars, the feathers on his hat ruffling in the breeze.
Griffith offered him a thin smile. “I thought you were scouting out security in the ballroom,” he replied, one hand coming up to fidget with the mask. “I suppose you got the information you were looking for?”