#acomasque14

In his efforts to get as far away from Zelda as possible, Link had lost sight of Malon in the crowd.  It wasn’t until he found her, standing idly near the food tables, that the first shot rang out above the noise.  Link nearly jumped out of his skin, moving to grasp Malon’s hand to pull her closer to him as disorder ensued.  Suddenly, the crowd came to a standstill and Link was able to see through the gaps in the partygoers.

A masked man in black he did not recognize stood with a Gerudo woman he later recognized as Jasdaë, the princess held tightly in the man’s grasp.  Link’s stomach dropped when he caught sight of the gun in his hands.  His heart pounding in his chest, he watched with bated breath as the man gave an ominous speech, his words resounding off the walls of the now silent ballroom.  There was a power in his words that Link found himself strangely drawn to, a sort of pull he couldn’t ignore.

Do not serve a false king.

The shots rang out again, and suddenly the princess was thrown to the floor and the panicked dancers were scattering every which way.  Link instinctively wrapped an arm around Malon’s waist, pulling her tightly against him; if they were getting out of here, they were getting out of here together, goddesses be damned.

Despite how much James didn't want to attend the masque, it didn't turn out to be as terrible as he anticipated. Granted, his date spent the majority of the time dancing with other men but.... Nevertheless.

He sipped his drink (fifth one that night. Whoops) and leaned against a nearby wall casually, scoping out the crowd to see if he could spot Jasdaë anywhere in the mix. She didn't seem to be with the dancers at all... where had she gone off to, then? 

A sudden commotion towards the front of the room caught his attention. It looked like some bloke had a... Gun, holy shit. Someone had a gun to the princess's head. James hurriedly looked around for Jas to make sure she was okay. He caught sight of her red curls fairly quickly due to them being right next to the man holding the princess hostage.

Sweet fucking hell.

She said she wouldn't do anything illegal that night! They had PLANS, dammit--

Oh gods.

People saw him come to the masque with her. With a wanted criminal who was currently yelling at knights to keep their distance. James downed his drink and decided it was best to... keep his mask on from now on. And the hood up. Yeah. Shit.

Some knights wheeled the king out to speak with the bloke with the gun, who instead went into some incoherent speech. What an accent. Maybe he was just too far off Probably that. Whatever. Who was that fucker, anyways? Holding hostages with Jasdaë... What a fucking mess.

Suddenly a shot went off, then a chandelier crashed to the floor and James did his very best not to drop with it (and his stomach). There was what looked like a fight that ensued, but he was much too far to see past the crowd. It seemed too risky to join in on the clamor, despite everything in him screaming to go check on Jas. Something was wrong. What if she was hurt? Gods, what a mess.

However, the clamor quickly came to an end. James stood on his toes to try and see what had happened, but it was no use. Did they kill them? Was Jas alright? Unable to withhold himself any further, James started to push through the crowd.

Only to get yanked back out.

"AUGH-- Fuckin' hell what in the--" He tore away from the stranger's grasp and turned to see that rude tailor that Jasdaë took him to the other week. "Must you use such vulgar language?" The fellow hissed, rolling his eyes. He had his nose crinkled again. Like he did the entirety of James's fitting. Did he really smell that terrible?

"Have you seen--"

"Not now," Guinnein interrupted and grabbed onto the boy's cloak again, then snapped his fingers. James was overcome with a sudden feeling of complete emptiness-- and not emotionally, either. It felt like someone sucked all his guts right out from his mouth. Terrible. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and distract himself, but the empty feeling was gone as quickly as it came and it honestly felt like he exploded for a moment.

The pistol bounced in its holster at Azrael’s hip, concealed beneath his cloak.  He eyed the crowd warily, searching for someone of enough importance to draw the king out of whatever hole he’d climbed into.

Of course, he knew exactly who was the most viable option – but he wanted to ignore the possibility of her being here, after their recent encounter.

There was the most awful sinking feeling in his chest when he caught sight of an all too familiar head of white blonde curls, falling heavily down a young woman’s back as she danced with some other young gentleman.  There was a smile upon her face as he spun her, and suddenly Azrael felt very much like the villain to have to break the two of them apart.

How fitting.

Grimacing as his teeth elongated and a low, guttural growl escaped his throat, Azrael raised the pistol above his head.  There were a few shocked gasps as the dancers around him realized what he was holding, the gasps escalating into screams as he fired one deafening shot to one of the ceiling chandeliers.  Chaos ensued quickly; the party guests ran in every which direction to escape the chandelier, now hanging perilously and simply waiting to fall on some unsuspecting civilian.  Seizing the opportunity, Azrael reached forward to grab the now startled princess, spinning her around and pinning her against him.

Amidst the sea of faces, Azrael was certain he would not find the particular young woman he was searching for.  She had neglected to share with him what she would be wearing tonight, and he had a feeling simply searching for a head of red hair would result in a highly problematic situation.

And yet, finding her proved rather effortless.  He first noticed a head of scarlet curls swaying with the flow of the music, attached to a willowy figure whose prowess on the dance floor far outmatched her dance partner’s meagre skill.  When Azrael saw what she was wearing, he smiled; naturally you would show up to the ballroom dressed so innocently, a leanbh.

He cut his way through the crowd gracefully though not without insistence, gently grasping Jasdaë by her waist and tugging her from her dance partner.  He silenced any remark the other man might have been about to make with a finger pressed to his lips, spinning Jasdaë around to face him.  Her reptilian mask highlighted the bone structure in her face, making her simultaneously beautiful and deadly.

Ah. Well. As well as ever, I suppose. You look good, Jax. I’m glad you’re here.

Thank you, my tailor friend insisted on dressing me. Which is the reason I look presentable.

Oh, you're so kind.

The clattering tremor that ran through the earth sent a chill down Link’s spine, the thunder of hooves against the cobblestones deafening.  A girl cried out, in terror perhaps or maybe she was in pain, clinging to the woman who rode the horse behind her.  Their forms were strange to him, almost shapeless and without definition.  Only a pair of wide, violet eyes were clear to Link where he stood, and they grew smaller and smaller as the girl and the rider headed further away atop the horse.

Link stood in a field, the sky dark with storm clouds above him.  He felt small here and knew that he was a child in this dream, this memory, but he did not remember being here.

The sound of horse hooves faded only to be replaced by another chorus of galloping, louder and more ominous in their tone.  Riding the massive black stallion that entered Link's field of vision was the hulking form of a man composed entirely of shadow, tendrils of inky darkness leaking into the air around him like tongues of fire.  A terrible fear gripped Link then, and his heart fluttered like a dying, erratic bird in his ribcage as the shadowy figure reached for him, a horrid wailing the only sound in Link’s ears…