#toaball2022

In prior years, you had to rely on your own memories to recall the events of each ball (however well that went considering, well, the overarching situation…). Tonight, the Projectionist is determined to make that a thing of the past. In her pursuit to bring light magic to its true potential, she has developed a new invention: the photo-artifex! Magic and lenses work together to imprint light onto paper, creating a lasting black-and-white image of whatever it sees.

The machines themselves are less than portable, but there are several to take advantage of tonight. Most are set up in what she calls a “theater” kind of environment: one photo-artifex pointed at a background, with a table of props set up nearby for people to use in their “photos”. The wide space allows for multiple people to be in the photo at the same time, perfect for groups! For couples, however, the Projectionist insists that you try her “artifex-box”, a booth that fits only two people but allows each patron to take home a string of multiple photos.

Take a picture! Strike a pose!

[ Back hug ] - For the photo, the sender embraces the receiver from behind.

[ Bunny ears ] - The sender sneakily puts up two fingers behind the receiver’s head, making them look like they have bunny ears.

[ Cheek ] - The sender kisses the receiver on the cheek for a cute photo.

[ Dance ] - For the photo, the sender and receiver pose in a way that suggests they are in the middle of a dance.

[ Glamour ] - The sender struts their stuff, posing their body in… “interesting”, angular ways that show off their outfit.

[ Jump ] - For the photo, the sender and receiver try to time their jump so that the photo-artifex captures them in mid-air. Might take a few tries…

[ Laugh ] - Laughing makes for a natural smile, and so the sender tries to make the receiver laugh for the photo.

[ Lift ] - For the photo, the sender boldly lifts the receiver up in their arms. Whether or not they can hold them long enough for the photo may be another story…

[ Muscle ] - For the photo, the sender and receiver pull back their sleeves to show off their rippling biceps.

[ Secret ] - The sender leans in close to the receiver and hides their lips from the photo-artifex, suggesting a kiss between the two. Whether or not the sender actually does…

[ Smooch ] - The sender kisses the receiver on the lips for a romantic photo.

[ Spell ] - The sender and the receiver put their hands up in the air, posing in a way that spells out a word.

And any other pose you can think of!

Take a look at the props:

[ Unicorn ] - Unfortunately, no horses are allowed in the ballroom. The Projectionist has thoughtfully prepared a stuffed horse for prop purposes, sturdy enough for one small child to sit on without fearing for their life. A single horn adorns its forehead.

[ Meow ] - Headbands adorned with two cat ears, perfect for hissy felines in human suits.

[ Tinted Glasses ] - Oversized glasses with dark lenses and colorful frames. A little silly-looking.

[ 1180 Glasses ] - Oversized glasses with unique frames formed in the shape of the year “1180”.

[ Arrow ] - A blank white sign in the shape of an arrow pointing to your left. You can write all sorts of things on it, from “Best Girlfriend Ever” to “I’m With Stupid”.

even with all that had happened with his son, sigurd would not let his plan to go to waste. he'd thought of it a few days ago— had even already bought the rings— he couldn't let nerves or anxiety stop him from trying now.

the only problem was that he was not sure how arvis would react. he needed someone to confide in for such a thing but.. he wasn't sure who to go to. no one around them was truly supportive of their relationship and there was no way he could simply ask arvis after what happened with seliph.

"thank you for the dance, miss." sigurd bows his head politely as he parts ways with the nameless noble he'd just been dancing with, passing her off to another noble partner. he needed to be alone to think about it, perhaps. just as that thought passes through his head he looks up and spots her.

deirdre— and for once she is alone. with the way the ballroom chandeliers illuminate her presence she looks like even more of a goddess than usual. sigurd glances around to make sure truly there was no one around to take her away from him before approaching her.

"deirdre!" he calls out to his wife, gently shoving his way through the crowd to get to her by the banquet table. a light flush makes its way to his face as he looks down at her in an almost stunned silence.

no matter what changed, her beauty would always be the same. she would always resemble a goddess through and through. "i haven't really been able to talk with you until now." he starts with a sheepish smile. ".. could i see you in private for a moment?"

Silva has heard a lot of rumors on her journey to get as far away from Dahna, as far away from Jugdral, as she possibly can with nothing to her name but a passion for dance and a pretty face. Turns out the distance is quite far if someone is willing enough. She hears about a place called the Abyss in a place called Gareg Mach. It's a place people go when they don't want to be found. For people running. People like Silvia.

When she arrives there's talk a buzz of a White Heron Cup. It's a dance competition and Silvia perks up considerably. Competitions yield prizes and prizes are usually gold or at least able to be sold. Her belly grumbles as she thinks about it. The dancer can't remember the last time she had a hot meal. Or a cold one.

Of course, it's not that kind of competition. Some kind of fancy frilly event for the school's bougie students and faculty. Silvia deflates to the point that her pigtails droop and stands at a distance far enough from the ballroom that she can hide in the shadows but close enough that she can hear the music playing. Music always reminds her of him. She never had music in her until the day they first met. Without him it won't ever be the same again.

Silvia kicks the snowy ground with a sandaled foot. It's freezing but she doesn't care enough to notice.

@verseandrhyme​ OK BUT ARE THEY GOING TO SPIT IT OUT??? (continued from here)

Another. The thought of it is a little embarrassing, but also... well, to be honest, there’s a part of him that wouldn’t mind another. Welcome it, even. But Mitama turns away before he can respond to what she said, insisting on dessert. “So early? You sound like Lysithea!” 

She’s flirting with him, is she? Two can play that game. “But yeah, let’s check it out. I could eat a little something. With little hesitation, Claude links arms with her, trying not to focus too hard on how warm her touch is. “Chilly outside, isn’t it? I’m hoping for something hot to drink.”

The buffet tables have some food set out for those already feeling peckish–nothing heavy, but certainly dishes to satisfy a sweet tooth. Sweet buns, saghert-and-cream, scones with fruit preserves to spread over them... yeah, nothing that Claude really wants to eat. As he tries to search for something a little less sweet, his eyes meet another’s: a Fódlan student staring intently at the two of them. She averts her eyes when he catches her, but it doesn’t stop her from continuing to look and consult a nearby friend. 

Claude can’t say he didn’t expect this. House leaders and future heads of state always grab attention and stir gossip among the people. He’s been a curiosity of the court since birth, it’s nothing that he’s not used to, much less bothered by. But what about Mitama?

Somewhere, somehow, it happened.

A frigid breeze brushes against cobbled brick, offering a refreshing chill to the faithful.

The Goddess Tower: a place for solemn reflection. Many a student come to this special location to have their wishes granted. Some yearn for eternal love with their partners, others for success in their careers, and for a select few, that wish is simply happiness. But our young prince (king? it’s complicated) Lewyn wants to ask for something a little more complicated.

Strange reunions had become part of his daily life at The Officers Academy, but something about the Ethereal Ball brings about more confusion than he bargained for. It seems that anyone--past, present, or future--is capable of showing up here unannounced. Lewyn can only make light of this fact for so long; putting on a happy-go-lucky demeanor in the face of frustrating questions takes a toll on him. And so, worn from tricky conversation, he grows desperate. Lewyn seeks the guidance of the almighty ones, in the hopes that they can provide some explanation as to why all of Jugdral seems to be congregating in one foreign academy. 

Alone and kneeling, he clasps his hands together. Lewyn’s no saint, so don’t get used to this image. His eyes shut and he concentrates on his desire, speaking out to the empty room so that the echoes may carry his voice to the divine, “Forseti, goddess--or whoever--I don’t ask for much. But just this once, I’ve got a request for ya. I know I ain’t exactly been the best me I can be, so I promise I’ll try a little harder if you grant this wish: for once, I ask that you give me more answers than questions. Send me a sign or something; tell me what I’m meant to do here.”

“Show me for what reason, or which person, you’ve sent me on this journey for...”

Head in the clouds and walking on air among the excitement of the ball, Deirdre is not exactly paying much attention to where she is going. Even with the horrific first meeting of her beloved husband and her darling son, she is still managing to get swept away in the romantic atmosphere of the evening. It is almost impossible not to! The hall is decorated beautifully and staff and students alike are dressed in their finest attire. It is like walking through a dream!

She feels as though she is floating when, suddenly, she runs into another person and is brought back down to earth. "Oh, forgive me! I did not--" She stops when she looks up and sees the face of this stranger. He is taller, more stoic, and hardened by time and war but she immediately knows who this is. He had only been a teenage boy the last time she saw him. She handed him her baby and promised she would be careful and return before he realized she had gone. She refused to listen to any warnings or protests against her leaving. And then she never returned.

"Shannan?" Emotion cracks her voice and she can feel her hands shaking with either excitement or fear. "Oh, Shannan!" She wants so desperately to embrace him. He had been like a son to her and Lord Sigurd and she loved him so very deeply. Since reuniting with Seliph and Ayra's twins, she knows just how important he and Oifey both had been in raising her actual son. She owes him everything.

"Shannan, my darling, I must beg your forgiveness! I wanted to come back. I was always going to return to you." Deirdre is crying now, overcome by so many emotions. "I swear I will not leave again. I am here now. We are together again."