#boundlesschaos

[ SNEAK ] - The Goddess Tower was a no-go before, but with flashy distractions at a high and visibility at a low, now is a better opportunity than you will get the rest of the night. The monastery staff have promised a very unforgiving punishment for those caught in forbidden grounds, but that only goes for those caught, right?

It's a time of mystery and wonder. Moving pictures brought to life through a magic equally wonderful and curious, hosted in rooms along a hallway lit a soft blue. Niamh would have her time to see how this magic works, but now, while so many had taken their seats?

There were other places to explore, first.

She knows of the tower, how it had been given far more security to keep the attendees out. They say that it's to prevent couples from sneaking up there to do who-knows-what, but Niamh believes there has to be a deeper meaning behind it.

So, as the lights dim, and the curtains are drawn, she uses the darkness to creep towards the stairs. She keeps her footsteps light and fleeting, a phantom that wanders in the dark...

That spots another in the limited lighting.

No words are exchanged, yet when her eyes meet the person before her, they say all that they need to.

Are you heading up there, too?

Nanna had not meant to be caught.

The ballroom’s glow had long faded behind her into softened blue haze, swallowed by corridors left dim beneath the evening’s distractions. Somewhere far below, laughter still drifted through the monastery like lantern smoke, but up here the air felt hushed—held still beneath the weight of secrecy.

A staircase forbidden often became irresistible by virtue of the word alone. Some rumored it to grant a wish. Others rumored it to bind lovers together forever.

Her heels scarcely made a sound against the stone as she ascended toward the tower, one careful hand gathered lightly at her skirts to keep the fabric from whispering too loudly in the dark. Then—

Movement.

Nanna stilled immediately.

Moonlight spilled faintly across another figure standing several steps below the landing, silvering familiar features into something almost ghostlike. Recognition came first in the eyes.

Niamh.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Nanna’s gaze flicked upward toward the tower doors, then back to her old friend. The silence between them folded naturally into understanding, into the sort of companionship that did not need to be announced aloud to exist.

A small breath escaped her—not quite laughter, but close. Her smile softened as her vision adjusted to the dark. Wordlessly, her hand slid up to rest an orchid in Niamh's hair.

Across the theater, there is laughter that arises whenever the characters make a funny quip. Some of it is met with more of a chuckle than others - but one person in the crowd hasn't laughed at all. She's focused. Almost a little too focused, as she watches the performance go on...

And then, when the shows calls for an intermission, she glances over to the person seated next to her. "When....is the cue to speak up?" She asks. To laugh? It's an odd question, but she seems genuine about it.

Forsyth has a sense of humor, unlike what some people may think. He laughs strongly and freely when it strikes him, and it has struck him several times over this comedic moving picture! It's just...not quite his scene, perhaps. The dialogue feels inauthentic, and the laughter from the crowd synchronizing with laughter in the reproduction does not help matters.

He is weighing whether to leave early or stick it out when the woman sitting next to him poses aloud a question he's been pondering. That elicits a chuckle from him, the most genuine since he took his seat.

"I've wondered that myself, my friend." Forsyth may not have an easy answer for her, but it seems fate has brought two kindred spirits in this together. "I believe we are supposed to recognize the jokes as they happen. They sometimes provide us with laughter within the replicated soundscape, which I believe is meant to prompt a similar reaction?"

The person seated to the right of Forsyth looks at him like he has two heads before getting up to refill their aerated corn, but Forsyth pays them no heed. Finally, there's someone who gets it.

[ CORN ] A new strain of corn has been bred in Bergliez with a curious trait—it pops when exposed to heat, becoming light and fluffy! Help yourself to a bag; it’s a little bland on its own, but you get the feeling you could find something to spice it up.

"The way the shape changes is so fascinating, no matter how many times I see it happen."

Kurt rolls an unpopped kernel around in the palm of his hand. The kernel is hard, round, and a light golden; a far cry from the fluffy and white final product. If he concentrates just the tiniest bit of fire magic to his fingers, then—

—POP!

The kernel pops up into the air and when it lands back in his palm, it has bloomed like a flower.

"I can't help but think they look like tiny flowers." Kurt pulls a white rose from his bouquet as a point of comparison. "It looks a bit like a tiny rose, don't you think? Haha, maybe a little misshapen, but it's that subtle variation I find so interesting."

Mark probably needed to pace himself with the snacks. He desperately wanted to try all of them, but he knew his eyes were bigger than his stomach. He had never been much of a big eater. Stuffing his face too quickly would mean he didn't have room to sample everything he'd like to, and that would be a tragedy with so much on offer. Even something as small as these little sweet buns would probably be better off cut in half, just enough to sample them without taking up too much room. It would be a shame to just waste the other half, though...

Oh, there was someone else at the snack table, and she was clearly eyeing the sweet buns as well. How convenient. She certainly made herself easy to notice with that stunning outfit of hers. Black and white was a simple and classic color scheme, but it was an effective one; the contrast of light and dark made for an excellent visual. That mask of hers gave her an air of mystique, of intrigue. Whoever she was, she definitely knew how to make an appearance. Hopefully she wasn't too cool for someone like Mark to bother.

A masked woman looks over the assortment of unlabeled candy that Panette had been trying to figure out the gist of, startling her as she made her presence known. Panette had heard the flavours can be awful, and whilst she usually has no issue just changing straight into whatever culinary experiences she can, trying to discern the bad ones from the good ones has had her at a standstill.

Which is why, despite the fright, she is grateful for her offer of trying the candy together. She needs to just do it now and face the consequences later, whatever they may be.

“I would be most amenable to that; now that we have made a vow, there shall be no chickening out from me.” With that being said, she grabs a few of the candies; one is too small an amount to properly test, of course.

Popping the first one into her mouth, she immediately grimaces and swallows as soon as she bites down on it.

“That one tasted like what I would imagine expired fish to taste like.”

She takes another one, and once again grimaces, though her brows furrow a bit more.

“Alas, that one is similar, surprisingly.”Another one tested, same result. Fourth one, again.

“I am trying one last candy, before I simply conclude they all taste like rotten fish and I have been duped by rumours and gossip.”

Popping the last candy into her mouth, she bites down. Her expression goes neutral.

“Ah.”

She calmly bites the candy, before turning to her masked acquaintance.

“The good news is that indeed, they have several different flavours. The bad news is that I have just eaten something that tastes like dog food.” She purses her lips in a tight line, exhales air through her nose in frustration, and then erupts into a fit of laughter.

She spots someone of the knights. Seasoned with training, or at least, the appearance suggests so.

"You..." she always had a habit of just, showing up. Doesn't help that the mask makes her a tad unnerving, either. "...I'm looking for someone to practice with..."

She has a lance with her, it seems. "Who can help with that...?" She briefly looks to the weapon of choice, and then to the other. Wordlessly, her eyes read: or, could that be you?

This tea party is an interesting idea, forcing monastery residents to interact with people outside their general social circles. It feels a little silly to sit at this fancy table set-up in full armor, but it's supposed to be a natural meet-and-greet, yes? No reason to dress any differently than normal.

"Oh! Hello." Is this woman his latest partner? There's neither hide nor hair of the coordinators, but it doesn't matter. She's someone he hasn't spoken to, so the goal is being met regardless. Come to think of it, has he ever seen her around...? "Certainly! There tend to be instructors who can assign you a sparring partner, but many knights are more than willing to help, themselves."

A quick glance past her. Forsyth's assigned partner doesn't seem to be on the way right now. He rises to his feet, plucking his lance from where it leans against the table. A grin meets the masked woman's silent invitation, the challenge accepted with decidedly unmuted enthusiasm.

And the staff. There's so many people trying to keep folks out of certain areas. For good reason? Maybe. She figures that there has to be some expensive treasure, or something that can be broken with a single touch. Things that she doesn't care too much for, when it comes to searching for the unusual and unknown. Though, wait, actually, sometimes the things that go for high prices can be relics and the like...

After studying one particular room, where she has slipped past the staff to view the massive, antique painting that spanned an entire wall of the room, she slides back out, no staff to come and yell at her. She appears to have snuck about witness free - or, wait, no, maybe not.

The girl who she meets eyes with is...familiar, in some ways. She can't place who right away, but it lets any unease slide. So, instead of bounding away, she heads on over, putting a finger by her lips to make a small shhhhh sound.

For good measure, she offers her starfish charm.

A massive, sprawling mansion that kept itself tidy enough to mask its age? A labyrinthine collection of rooms she can explore for one night and one night only? What else could this be but a wonderful chance adventure?

She does not have to enjoy all of it in mischief and mystery, though; Maria is quite satisfied from the very beginning when she wanders, hands clasped behind her back, through abundantly decorated rooms decorated solely to display. Were it less opulent it could be mistaken for some sort of museum rather than a nobleman's manor. That it isn't does not detract from her enjoyment, at least.

But at some point between leisurely strolling through the rooms and throwing bright smiles at passers by, the little princess realizes that it is just her, the treasures and the works of art, and the sparse candles dimly lighting each room. Not a single other soul in sight. She pauses in her step, leaning forward and back and craning her neck to peer through doorways for any sign of -- well, anyone. It isn't like she's been sneaking, either; every smile she'd offered had been met in kind and left her to her merry way.

Hmm... A fingertip placed against her lips, the littlest princess of Macedon decides to embrace the mischief she's wandered into, every creaking floorboard (though there are surprisingly few!) turned from a fleeting curiosity to a villain in tonight's story. It's as she's just finished testing one such rare floorboard with the point of her shoe that she glances up.

--another person! In the time it takes her lashes to flutter a flurry of blinks, the other has already crossed the room, signaling her to keep her quiet. Obediently, Maria nods, though where her lips are silent, the color in her eyes is loud. It shimmers and shines, the only speck of sunset left in the dark night, peering from between two points of the little starfish as Maria holds it up to her eye. She turns it once; she turns it twice.

How curious, that holding a starfish against the night sky should turn it into the ocean floor!

It is her turn to beckon the stranger, shuffling a step to the side to make room for her. Of all the sights in this endless mansion, this is perhaps the least expensive, the most mundane -- but it is the junction of their paths, and it is where she finds her joy.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Maria mouths, a fist pressing to her lips soon after to hold her giggles in place. Yet when she opens it, it is to drop a pearl into the other's palm. She smiles a moment longer, and then:

"But there could be other mysteries out there, too..."

Like treasure, maybe. But eyes tell that maybe that's not all she thinks about, too.

As she finally managed to leave the main avenue, Minerva found herself in a very relaxing place, all that walking actually did her some good: a very small and distinctive cabana was located not so farm from the main area of the ball, but that was where Minerva finally found some peace… and a friend too.

“Fishes, for sure” she paused, listening to her, while picking the glass of wine that rested on a small table beside her chair, “But like you said, I’m sure there are other mysterious objects too, down in the abyss” she sipped from her glass, her gaze was fixated on the horizon: it was evening by now, the sun was almost set, but the shore shone beautifully like some precious treasures rich of gold and gems.

“Maybe our charms come from there?” she shifted back her gaze, staring at the starfish décor that Niamh owned. “And maybe there are more”