Festivities
She’s painting her face, and at the moment, is drawing rather angular paint into the vague shape of lips. It’s sharp, as are all of the most striking angles of her outfit. She decided to go as a harlequin of sorts, this year. She’s got diamonds around her eyes that drag down nearly to the drawn out corners of her lips, and she has a needle and thread set out for the evening. A harlequin is, after all, intended to be silent. ...Not that she has ever bothered to enforce that with that favorite champion of hers. She doubts he would even complain. Or question her. Joemar really did turn out so well, after she got in that head of his... He’s such a gentleman... Honest, too. Unlike that other ‘champion’. She only kept him from death for the sake of seeing what would happen. It was rather boring. The warlock handles change too well, and it would be such a shame to tear him apart. ...She does have part of that soul of his, though, if the whim strikes. She picks up the needle, pursing her lips lightly so it’s easier to get started. Part of her wonders how she and Kahek will portray themselves at the party... There’s the theories for siblings, cousins, parent and child, lovers... It doesn’t seem to occur to many that they could simply be good friends. Which only makes it that much more fun to tamper with perceptions. Another part of her almost wants to summon the archfae again... See what he thinks about her costume. He could probably use a bit of an esteem lift, too... He’s fallen back into the first person every now and then, so something is clearly very wrong. It was probably just the false champion, in all seriousness, but it won’t hurt to ask. She may have laughed at Amnes’s proper death, but... If she lost her haggard man, she would mourn. She does so love her pet, after all. She reaches the edge of her lips and continues along, following the painted lips up her cheeks and back along, past the end of the thread and to the other side. All arranged so she can have a long bow hanging from the middle of her smile. The red is a beautiful contrast to the white and black of the rest of her face... She is glad that she’s kept all of the lacing red. Nothing else, of course. The strings are all for aesthetics, after all. The ribbons holding her hair in its twin braids trailing down her back. The lacing along her spine, from the base of the skull and holding her top tight to her back, all the way down to her hips, where the top falls into the tails. The lacing similarly fastening her boots to her legs and gloves to her arms. After last year, she does not intend to wake up without her some piece of her costume. All she has in her gallery from last year’s ballerina is a hair ribbon and a single shoe. And a phone number that she hasn’t bothered to call.
She stands and steps back from the mirror. Oh, the ichor does look so nice with the thread. And here she was, worrying she’d have to wash it and re-paint. The handmaid was right... She looks wonderful. ...Maybe El’Roqir will give the woman some time back to her own realm. Let her check in on her family or something, if she wants. Well... The goddess waves her hand, turning red eyes to the door long enough for two more harlequins to arrive. Kahek, in his matching (and, naturally, inverted) costume, and Joemar, in his outfit. Oh, how she adores them both. It’s just... delicious. It is a shame that Kahek couldn’t talk his champion into coming... But she’s not going to bring that up. He fell for a mortal, and so is keeping her and her husband alive. In all fairness, El’Roqir would gladly extend Joemar’s life if he asked for it. Not that he would... And that knowledge just makes him that much easier to adore.
Speaking of that wonderful man... The archfae’s nose is very nearly to his knees, which just has the goddess touching her chest. He is just... Precious.
“Would the Lady and Lord like company to their event for the evening?”
Of course, neither of them can verbally answer, but she knows she doesn’t need to. All she needs to do is snap and hold out an arm for him to come along and link his own arm through. Her godly companion mirrors it on her other side, and they are stepping out the doors. ...It’s doubtful that any of them will remember anything that happens until dawn, so it’s best to enjoy it while they can. Who knows, Haggard might get a new mask from things. If he’s willing to replace his old one, that is. ...She’ll have a mortal of some sort offer it to him. That way he doesn’t feel obligated to accept.
