ꜱ1ᴇ5　　red carpet

Derek didn't know what possessed him, but he found himself at another one of the mayor's events. Though he'd taken pride in winning worst dress two times in a row, he was confident that he would get first place this time around. For the longest, he was debating whether to come in his an invisible costume to cause a bit of chaos, but he decided against it, not wanting to show his assets off for free. It had been a while since he'd last contacted his angelic friend and he wasn't sure if the angel wanted to see him. But Derek wanted to see him. He /needed/ to see him. And this party was the perfect time to do it. If youngmi didn't want to see him, he didn't have to. Derek would cover his face. The angel would never know it was him under all of this hair and wrapped in a white bedsheet.

He floated through all photographers and everyone posing in front of the cameras, only appearing as a speck of dust or "orbs" as most called them. Like in the past,  Derek didn't care for pictures. There was only one reason he came here tonight.

Fang was just throwing himself forward with the costume he chose for the party. He found he didn’t look bad in a suit and tie, as opposed to his usual casual and occasionally well loved clothing. He knew Sterling was going to be beautiful, as always, and found that he didn’t want to dress poorly for them. Partners deserved a good image, after all! At first, he’d considered turning down the invitation and spending some quiet time by himself. It’d been a while since he’d picked up a book or played a game. But it would be no fair to make them go by themselves. Fang always hated seeing Sterling upset, he wanted to make his pretty dragon happy. So he turned up at the gang’s beach house, hands in pockets as he waited for his partner. He held their hand on the red carpet, though for the most part let them do as they pleased. Fang was trying to avoid too much attention. He didn’t think Mortem would be looking for him, but it was best to be safe, always. Thinking he’d given them the slip and nobody would look for him was a little too good to believe, as much as he had little reason to distrust their new leader. He was in a better place now, and silently refused to never let himself fall into the grasp of anything as monstrous as Mortem again.

After having their photo taken together, in which Fang went for a grin, he was ready to slip in to the party and survive the night.

While Sterling was absolutely the type of person to show up in lingerie and a pair of ears and a tail and call it a costume, the idea of being Howl had pulled them back from it. Howl was perfect for them. Already they were tall, pretty, and had black hair the perfect length. Sterling was partial to black-haired Howl over the blonde one, but that was likely due to their decision a couple of months back to dye their golden locks black.

The costume itself was rather simple. Well-fitting pants, a puffy-sleeved white shirt, Howl's iconic jacket/caplet, his earring, and pointed shoes with a slight heel. It hadn't taken long for Sterling to get dressed, but he looked good. Deciding they made a beautiful Howl, the dragon left their bedroom and Vos's home to meet Fang so they could leave together.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: baby doll - lovelyz

Ceren was wrapped in strips of linen that had taken a ridiculous amount of time to put on and secure. He'd stained them the night before, turning white cloth into browning material that looked as though it was aging. Under the linen he was shirtless, and he was wearing a pair of black shorts for the sake of modesty, but for the most part, he supposed that he made a convincing mummy.

Akaedi had taken one look at him and snorted, more out of amusement than anything. The entire reasoning for Ceren wearing the mummy costume was because it covered his chest ("tiddies", he could practically hear Kallistae saying) and his original costume, a lifeguard, had not. Ceren was half-afraid the mermaid was going to whip out darts and start trying to throw them at his chest again if he wore the lifeguard costume.

So he was a mummy. He could have gone with something else, like a doctor, but... well, wasn't the point of dressing up to look like something you /weren't/? As the Mayor seemed to have taken quite literally, with the angel costume Ceren had heard rumors of. Ceren could have dressed up as a warrior, given his refusal to fight or take up a weapon, but this would work. The living dead. An interesting concept.

Ceren had even practiced the mummy walk, which he demonstrated as he shuffled across the red carpet. He could hear Kallistae's laughter as she watched him, clearly entertained by the doctor's antics. Striking a silly pose for his picture, Ceren then shuffled inside the venue, ready to enjoy the party.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: queen of disaster - lana del rey

Avra was responsible for the costumes that the twins were wearing. After hours of pleading with his brother to cooperate with him, Areti had agreed to dress up as royalty with his brother—Areti had dragged his golden armor out of his closet and made a cape, and Avra had made himself a dress. The smaller twin was smug as he ran his hands down the front of his skirt, making sure that it fell the right way, and looked at Kallios, sprawled on his bed as she usually was when he was about to leave.

"What do you think, Kallios?" the nymph asked. He touched the exposed area of his torso, and then moved his fingers to the semi-translucent fabric over his chest. It wasn't as risque as he could have gone, but it had still made Areti shake his head at him—Avra thought the dress was rather fetching. It gave him the illusion of having more curves to his build than he actually did.

His panther, for her part, merely rolled over onto her back and made a /mrr/ noise, head tilted so she could stare at him despite being upside down. It made Avra laugh to see her, stepping up the stairs to his loft bed so he could scratch under her chin before he finally stepped back down and lifted the circlet off of the counter, nestling it amid his hair. It was the final touch of his look, the crown that gave way that his costume was intended to be a prince. Not a princess, just a prince in a dress.

As he shut the door of his cabin behind him, Avra inhaled the forest air and closed his eyes so he could take a moment to listen to the sounds of the forest. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, insects made noise from their hiding places. With a smile in place, Avra opened his eyes, gathered his skirts and stepped down from the porch, bare feet landing in the grass and fallen leaves that surrounded his home. His skirt dragged behind him as he walked, undoubtedly gathering leaves and twigs and curious insects as the nymph padded through the forest and toward the city. This was typical—this was how Avra always arrived to Ziminiar's events. After more than a decade, people stopped whispering about it.

Through the city the smaller of the twins went, greeting those that he frequently saw on the way to one of Ziminiar's events. He walked the same path each time, passing the same merchants and shops, and so he was fairly well known. He stopped for a moment to chat with a woman who was a mother now, took a moment to hold her baby and coo at him, and then went on his merry way.

He and Areti would meet up within the venue, because they hadn't planned to arrive together. Avra made a beeline for Akaedi when he saw him arriving at the same time, and made sure to poke fun at his boss for not putting together an actual costume before separating from the mildly annoyed merman and walking the carpet, smiling for the cameras and stopping to compliment the doorman's new hat before he skipped inside to get his picture taken.

Then he was inside the ballroom, scanning the crowd for someone he knew or someone whose costume looked interesting enough to spark his curiosity.

Halloween has always been one of Autumn's favourite holidays, which comes on second place after Christmas-- or maybe Black Friday. Anyways, this year, she decided to put on a y twist to one of the famous villain character-- The Riddler. She checks herself in the mirror on the palm of her hand a few times before stepping into the place where the event took place. Going on the red carpet, the cameras flashing definitely blinded her sight a little but she kept herself grounded. After adjusting her sight for a few seconds, finally she is able to give the camera men some poses for the costume competition. Ending the pose with a blow of a kiss, Autumn made her way to the end of the scarlet carpet to look around for any familiar faces,holding her matching clutch in her hands.

If there was one thing Youngmi could get behind, it was dressing up to look pretty for a party. He loved seeing the variety of costumes people could come up with. There was creativity in the air, rather than any worry or fear. It was a nice change. He hoped it lasted, doubtful as it was. After beating around the idea of asking someone to come with him to the party, he decided against it, because if fate was in his favour they’d meet there again, and Youngmi would be able to demand dances. At first, the archangel had even been lost in what did wear. He considered a dress, considered many different Halloween costumes, but at last he settled on a Disney princess.

The carpet didn’t bother him so much this time, though he was going alone. He’d died soon after the last party- but didn’t plan on going for a second round with death. This time would be much better.

"Over here. No. Wait. Get my good side."

Pratu smiled cheekily into the camera, eyes playful, chin lifted so that the highlighter on the tip of her nose could catch the light. The female vampire knew she was adorable and good looking and she didn't bother hiding it. It'd been a long time since she had a chance to go out and she missed the attention, so she was going to make use of this and bask in the spotlight as much as she wanted.

"Okay okay, let me see."

She mumbled, snatching the camera away from one of the photographers and scrolled through the photos, shaking her head in disapproval.

"What the is this? Again. Do it again. But from this angle. You lot are useless."

She threw the camera back and settled into another pose, pursing her lips. The people around her grumbled and ushered her to move forward, nudging her towards the entrance. She hissed softly and rolled her eyes before walking up to the photographer once more and grabbing the camera.

"I'll be borrowing this and taking my own photos then. You don't mind, do you?"

She didn't wait for an answer before strutting her way through the doors.

This was lovely! There had been no surprise when a young crow had landed upon his bar counter to offer him an invitation. The creature had been gently shooed off, so that he could read in peace. Already, he thought up ideas. He’d been told he’d make a y doctor once- it was better than nothing, he’d go for it! Even if the person had been ridiculously drunk intoxicated at the time. The holiday was all just a bit of fun, wasn’t it? To boost the moral of the people! Understanding what he did about war, Ivory was all too aware that some of the ‘warriors’ in the city could do with some moral boosting. He’d get out of the bar, have a few drinks, and enjoy himself like he was back home again.

…only not. No tables were to be broken. No limbs broken. This was a nice, charming party.

Shaking off his thoughts of a rowdy party, Ivory set off towards the foyer, steps comfortable and relaxed. The eyes of the public didn’t bother him. He’d have a lovely time out for the evening.

With eyes glowing with a dangerous glee, Zale Cirillo faced the red carpet. For the last party, he’d been attempting to hunt down his enemy, to end him as swiftly and mercilessly as possible. He had failed. Though, in a way, he was glad, because he was going to see the look on Enyo- no, Eden’s face when the water elemental pitched up in a costume designed to attack one person and one person only. In his past life, Zale had had the glory of slaying the snake beast, only to be murdered in revenge by her spawn. And now, even if he couldn’t quite plunge a blade through the gorgon and watch the life drain from him until death, he could see the look of rage he received by dressing as his mother.

Completely and utterly delighted with the purely ed up intentions behind the carefully done makeup and serpentine headband, he flashed white teeth and waved, even bowing as his name was called and he reached the foyer. Oh, he was having too much fun. Far too much fun. And he was only just getting started.

Jianhong had paused when he received an invitation to the party. It was the second time in a row that he had for these gatherings - the previous one had seemed calm enough, so what was the harm in another? He’d have the opportunity to, under the watchful supervision of the Yavetz family, spend some time with the librarian again. The only problem had been a costume. He didn’t enjoy dressing up much, and was much more accustomed to casual, or at the most, formal wear. He wanted to make an effort though, for the sake of his image if he was to attend a costume party.

So, with careful proposition of a few ideas, he’d roped his precious librarian into a couples costume. The wig was slightly uncomfortable on his head, certainly not something he was used to, but he’d insisted on his hair remaining short after his failure to protect his beloved in the August attacks. Jianhong wouldn’t budge on it - it was his duty to protect the beautiful dragon, and he hadn’t been able to. There would be no second chances, and the damage was done. All the nymph could do was offer his help and fuss over everything, no matter how capable he knew Haolan was.

Prickling under the eyes of the people and distantly aware that he was being described as eye candy by some daring reporter for the somewhat regal appearance the carefully done makeup gave his expression, he offered Haolan his arm, the one without the dark glove, as it felt wrong to offer the one he loved anything but himself, so that they could walk together through the flashing lights and have their picture taken in the foyer, where they could become one with the rest of the guests and savour their evening of hopefully peace.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: lost my way - sickick

Amine isn't so sure why he's taken the invitation to the mayor's latest party. Mortem is still weak, fighting amongst themselves like starving dogs over a scrap of meat, while Amine sits back and lets them. At first, the grief had left Amine unable to feel anything beyond rage and sorrow over the loss of his sister. When he finally clawed his way out of that stage, Amine found himself—uncaring. Let them fight. Let them kill each other, for all he cares. Amine will rebuild Mortem, and he'll rebuild it the way he wants it, rather than the way his /mother/ had ran it.

After all, it had been the way Colette Reivana handled Mortem that had been the death of Beau Reivana in the long run. Amine hates his mother even more in her death, for she brought about the destruction of the only person he ever /actually/ cared about.

Amine could have dressed as a corpse, and it would have been apt. He feels like little more than one, sometimes. But instead, he chose a costume that the Amine before Beau's death would have chosen—something any human would know. A Disney princess. He'd put on a dress and used it as the excuse to wear makeup, covering the dark circles under his eyes and cleaning up his generally wild appearance. The wig covered his dark hair, and when he tried out a smile, it actually seemed believable.

He can't afford to be Amine Reivana the useless idiot anymore. Now that Amine is the leader of Mortem, and former members of Mortem with the capability to expose him are scattered throughout the city, Amine can't afford Mortem making any /mistakes/, either. Hence, it is convenient that they're fighting amongst themselves, while they make the mistake of believing their leader to be useless.

...Except for Kiara, but Amine knows she is much smarter than she had let on when his mother was in charge. Amine also knows that she's dangerous—not just to others in Mortem, but to him as well. If she shows any signs of betraying him, Amine will have to get rid of her.

But, in the meantime, the leader of Mortem is forming a plan, and for the night, he will socialize with strangers under the guise of who he is known as to the public—the model from Paris—but while he will maintain that he is an airhead, Amine will have to be careful.

He's very aware that the game has become much more dangerous.

He made it that way, with his own actions. Amine took a risk when he gave the Dream Guard's second-in-command information about his mother and Mortem. Amine knows that Klahan's smart enough to have realized that Amine was more than just someone who had information. As of yet, however, no one has come to eliminate him as well.

The survivor of the Reivanas. Amine shouldn't even be alive, much less stepping out of a car at a public event that his sister cannot come to, because she's dead—vanished—Amine knows that Beau is dead. If she were alive, she would have found a way to tell him, no matter the circumstance.

Amine is alone, and his smile as he walks to the hotel entrance is the smile that used to fool Colette Reivana into believing he was the perfect son.

It's a smile that can hide the worst evils.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: doom - calivania

Shuangmei had not been expecting to receive an invitation to the mayor's costume party—following such a silly human tradition, what on earth was the demon thinking—but there he was. Guiying slumbered in her tiny dragon form, safely tucked away in a pocket inside one of his sleeves that was designed specifically for her. He was unwilling to part from her for even one night and after he had dressed and changed his hair color with a spell that would wear off by morning, Shuangmei had put her carefully inside of her pocket so she could accompany him.

White and blue was such a strange combination for Shuangmei to be wearing. Most often, he dressed himself in reds or whites without color—the robes as white as fresh-fallen snow and hair the color of old, bleached bone was a stark contrast to his day-to-day appearance. The half-dragon had never seen himself like this and wasn't sure if he liked the image that it painted.

Ah, well. What was one night in costume in order to learn more about those of the city, specifically those who were considered the upper echelon of society? Shuangmei would, perhaps, locate the remnants of that terrible family at the celebration, and then his work in this city could come to a close and he could move on through the world.

The journey down from the mountain took less time than it would have for a mortal. Despite the loss of his wings, Shuangmei had the magic of flight and glided through the air until he was close enough to civilization that he chose to walk instead.

If asked what his costume was, Shuangmei would answer simply that he was a winter deity, although the truth was closer to a specific god of his homeland—before, of course, that place had crumbled away into nothing and had been forgotten by time. It was for the best that Shuangmei did not share much information about himself or his manner of dress.

Shuangmei had been many places and done many things in the world, but he spent most of his time trying to lay low and so he was unaccustomed to the concept of the 'red carpet'. He watched what those before him did—when they started walking, where they went—and when it was his turn, he walked at a brisk pace and did not smile until he was in the entry of the building and stopped for a picture. Then he was free to enter and mingle with the other guests—and wait, and watch.

"No way, you're dressed as an angel too?" Atlas muttered to himself with a dramatic gasp. He made a noise and shook his head, staring at his murky green eyes in his reflection. The pixie adjusted the halo atop his head before clearing his throat and trying again. "Oh would you look at that? We match! You could say we're a match made in...heaven." Atlas snorted to himself and nodded once in approval at the line. If nothing else the very tall, very y demon mayor would give him one of those pretty smiles. He'd be happy with that.

Atlas puffed his cheeks out, leaning into the mirror to finish the design on his upper cheeks in white eyeliner that would match the two subtle white eyeliner wings he'd done. Some gold highlighter on his cheekbones, nose, and body shimmer lotion all over, and he was done. Atlas was more or less showing up in lingerie. His costume left little to the imagination, with his wings attached on a white leather harness that fastened around his chest, short white latex shorts with a white cloth knotted at one side of his hips to drape over the other, and his white fishnets that lead down to white combat boots. He was showing a lot of skin, but hopefully the attractive demon would enjoy it.

"Okay. How do I look?" Atlas whirled to look at his snakes, turtle, and alligator. Sir Reginald let out a low rumbling hiss, making the pixie beam. "You think so? I do too." One more adjustment to his halo and Atlas was out the door. The journey from the swamp to the city was far, but he didn't want to risk messing up his body harness by letting his very large wings free to fly. But if Ziminiar liked his costume, the dreadful exercise would be worth it.

When Atlas arrived and saw all the people he made a face. He was glad he didn't tell Monarch what his costume idea was, only telling his cousin that he'd be attending the party only for Ziminiar. Monarch insulted him or something but didn't seem too surprised. Atlas posed for the photo then told the photographer to /make sure/ that Ziminiar got a copy of it. Making sure to add in a threat of eating the photographer's first born if he didn't fulfill the promise, Atlas happily walked into the party and looked around for his own personal eye candy. Ziminiar was easy to spot so the pixie made a beeline.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: the phoenix - fall out boy

Kivari could have complained about how uncomfortable his costume was because it wasn't jeans and a t-shirt, but he'd saved the complaining because he was the one who had picked out the costume and he'd picked it out because, well, he'd successfully convinced Valor to dress up as a vampire hunter ("it's funny!"). Then he'd decided he was going to dress up as a vampire (it was perfect) and, well, he'd based the fashion somewhat around what he often saw Valor wearing.

He'd live through a little discomfort if it meant he got to drag Valor out of his library, which still terrified Kivari because everything—especially his vampire—was so /flammable/, and out into public to spend time together. Kivari didn't mind that they were a private couple, but sometimes he did want to go out and do fun things together.

This was supposed to be fun. Unfortunately, the summer festival was also supposed to be fun and it had been nothing short of a disaster and it had Kivari a little on edge, on high alert when he and Valor left together for the venue of the party. He hid it well, keeping up a steady stream of chatter about this and that, but he was watching everything around them. He wasn't going to allow anything to happen to either of them. Yes, that included himself. He was working on the /not dying/ thing, like he'd promised Valor.

Valor wasn't smiling for the picture, but Kivari was beaming before he dragged Valor into the noise and crowd of the party.

Another ball. Valor enjoyed balls back in his day, where he could dress in finery and sweep a handsome young woman across the floor to the slow singing of a string quartet. Though he had only ever danced with ladies as a social formality, he did enjoy the delicate, practiced motions of dance. Dance was an art albeit forgotten at places like this where forms rippled and clung like an autumn morning fog.

/The things I do for Kivari./ Valor sighed, the sound disrupting the careful quiet of his room. His reflection in the mirror was pallid, unchanging. A statue long on display in a dusty museum, sculpted by an unknown artist. Too beautiful to throw away, but plain enough to fail to capture attention. It was alright; Valor was only interested in the attention of one very special phoenix.

A phoenix who had convinced him to dress up. Valor could not recall in dressing up like this before in his life. Masquerades were common in his day, but it had been years. The vampire's icy fingers skimmed the brim of his hat, and the vampire's shoulders shook with another gentle sigh. Kivari would be coming as a vampire, so perhaps Valor could find amusement in the night yet.

Boots clicking softly on the worn wood of Valor's home, he turned his gas lamps off and headed into the foyer for his duster. It would complete the look, as would the holster that wrapped around his chest and settled on his hips, equipped with a vial of "holy" water and a cross. Valor had suggested a stake as a joke, but Kivari got pale so Valor dropped the idea. No doubt the phoenix would only think of the stories Valor told him of when he had a stake through his stomach. Better not to dig open trauma the phoenix felt guilty for not remembering.

One more sad look poured from honey eyes towards the vampire's tranquil library before he left the house and locked the door. Kivari was waiting for him, so the two left together, stopping on the red carpet for a photo that Valor didn't smile in.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: in flames - digital daggers

Eden's costume was something simple and random that he had grabbed off of the shelf of a store and bought without looking too far into it. Only once he brought the costume did he bother to research it some, learned that it was a video game character, and determined that it was an acceptable costume to wear.

As Ziminiar's best (only) friend and the head of law enforcement in the city, it was important for Eden to be at all of his events (Ziminiar was understanding about the May ball, and the press had thought Eden was already there, anyway) as a show of friendship and solidarity. Especially after Eden had heard about Reina punching Ziminiar in the captain's absence, because she thought he was involved. (The Guard's faith in their captain was /astounding/.) And so today, Eden was entering through the red carpet like everyone else, though unlike everyone else, he had a six-foot-long viper draped across his shoulders, behaving himself quite nicely as Eden walked along the red carpet. The viper, who called himself Slink, was none too happy about the flashes of cameras taking pictures along the way, but he was good, as he'd been promised raw eggs.

(Ziminiar kept snakey snacks around for Eden. The Captain of the Guard was never seen with a refreshment in hand because he snuck off once in a while to a secret place and enjoyed things polite company didn't consider food.)

"It'll be over before you know it," Eden promised Slink, as they entered the foyer. The photographer was accustomed to the Guard Captain arriving with snakes, and didn't react to the viper.

Hiroki had decided on his knight costume shortly after Basil telling him he planned on being a king. The tengu had wanted a matching couple costume as soon as he learned those were a thing, but he and Basil weren't exactly a couple...yet, anyway. He was working on it. In any case, being a queen was ruled out in case it would scare the dragon away or make him back off. Hiroki had worked hard to get to the point their relationship was at now and wasn't interested in taking any steps backwards.

Prince was Hiroki's second thought, but he didn't want Basil making any jokes about them being father and son. They had an age gap (that Hiroki paid no attention to) that Basil sometimes brought up as a way to try to make Hiroki change his mind about his feelings. It wouldn't work, but he wouldn't give the dragon the opportunity. So then the idea of a knight came to his mind. It was perfect! The king's personal guard. He was Basil's guard already, so it suited him well.

Hiroki ended up borrowing a suit of armor from a very pretty vampire who Basil said was the fire chicken's (whoever that was) boyfriend. The armor fit Hiroki well enough. Not perfect, but not dreadfully uncomfortable either. The most annoying thing was that he couldn't fly to the venue since the armor went over his back and left no room for his wings. He would probably take the chest piece off before leaving so he could fly, but for now it was alright.

The tengu stuck close to Basil, smiling brightly when their photo was taken before they headed into the throng of people inside. Grabbing for Basil's arm, Hiroki braced himself for the crowd of strangers.

Being extra. That was what Halloween was all about. Putting up ‘scary’ decorations and walking around all dressed up. For a long time, Basil hadn’t seen the point. He found the fluffy spider decorations adorable, not scary, and he didn’t see much point in dressing up for one night. But maybe old age was making him more open to these types of things. It was all a little bit of fun. Besides, maybe he liked it if he had Hiroki beside him, dressed up as his little knight in shining armour. He didn’t need protecting, but it was a lot more cute than fluffy spiders.

Cute enough for the dragon to spend all night teaching him how to care for different metals and armours.. and maybe even items made from a dragon’s hide, though it was frowned upon and disagreed with these days (listen, if nobody asked, nobody needed to know about the nature of some of the plating on his armour), even if what he was wearing was just borrowed. Basil had, after all, resorted to metal work as a profession when he first began living among humans. He’d made his own blades- blade, by hand. And even if what he was wearing had been in a box for a lot time, it was his duty to keep it well cared for!

He simply stared at his reflection in his bedroom’s single mirror for a long time, blinking at the unfamiliar figure. Everything fit perfectly still, though it wasn’t designed to be comfortable, it was more than bearable for a single evening. The dragon had already badgered Monarch like an excited child to do his makeup for him before he went to get changed. Finally, he placed the crown of intricately twisted wire, crystals and pretty fake flowers upon his head, beaming at the sight. He should’ve been a king. Why hadn’t he conquered an empire, instead of frying a few villages? He’d have made a wonderful king!

Delighted, King (for one night) Basil headed to the mayor’s party. The flashing lights and loud voices didn’t make the carpet his favourite place to be, but Vos’ mute dragon merely folded his hands behind his back when he heard his name, and walked beside Hiroki so that they could have their picture taken when they reached the foyer. Of course he’d have one taken with the little bird he’d grown fond of - not that anyone needed to know that - and then continued on, because the night was young, and he was ready for a nice peaceful party.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: regulars - allie x

It had taken Aurelio a lot of convincing to get Gisela to agree to let him wear the costume he'd picked out. The long wig was white, and the hat shadowed his face, changing the appearance of his features—that seemed to be the reason his mother had agreed in the end, but whatever, Aurelio was just glad he got to have some fun. It felt nice to have long hair again, even if it was a wig and it was only for one night.

He made fun of Caelius a little while they were waiting, because of course he did, but Aurelio knew that his older brother knew it was meant in good fun and that none of what he said was serious. Under the brim of his hat, while he was teasing Caelius, Aurelio was looking around—seeking any faces that might have been familiar—but then Caelius' name was called and Aurelio turned to face the front, reaching up to adjust his hat a little and tip it down just a little further.

Was he hiding? Maybe a little. Aurelio could feel someone watching him, and he didn't like being watched. He tried not to let his nerves show as he started across the carpet, the feeling of being watched not leaving him until he was nodding to the doorman and passing into the foyer for his picture with Caelius.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: bluebird - miranda lambert

Dressing up as a minion had been a moment of genius for Caelius. It was simple enough to do (aside from the yellow body paint), it was easily recognizable, and it was also warm—or it would have been, if Caelius was bothered by the cold. As it was, it was a cute costume and Caelius wasn't trying to win the costume contest; he just wanted to have fun.

His brother, however, kept calling his costume ridiculous to annoy him. A normal thing for Aurelio to do, sure, but sometimes Caelius just wanted to throttle him. He could tell Gisela was losing some of his patience in front of them, but they'd live—all three of them—because then their mother was stalking across the red carpet with a smile that made him look like he was barely holding himself back from stabbing someone. Well, oops.

At least there was no pushing and shoving as the brothers decided who was going next. Aurelio seemed very content to be the last one to cross the carpet—nerves, probably, since he and Caelius usually skipped all of Ziminiar's gatherings—which meant Caelius was the one who's name was called next.

He walked with a smile that was much less murderous than his mother's, and disappeared into the building to wait for Aurelio so they could take their picture together.

↳ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: illest - baker grace

Gisela hadn't even been planning on attending Ziminiar's party, but with an invitation in the mail and two boys pleading with him to go, he hadn't really been able to say no. If he was going to be honest—with himself, because he certainly wasn't going to admit it to the rest of the world—he had no idea what his costume was supposed to be. Caelius and Aurelio were the ones who had taken it upon themselves to find him something to wear, and Gisela hadn't argued when they'd presented him with their plan. With his blonde hair swept off of his forehead and spray-painted an icy blue-white, dark makeup applied to his eyes, Gisela looked like a completely different person.

He wasn't going to complain about that.

The look was completed by a black turtleneck and black jeans that he'd had in his closet—black jeans that Aurelio had gleefully attacked with a knife to bust out the knees—and a white jacket that had been painted with random words by his sons, who had argued about that while Gisela was mixing yellow body paint for Caelius' costume. He would have a fit if anything in his house was stained, so they were on the back patio by the pool for the things that had the potential to make a mess.

His fingers were still a little sore and red from scrubbing them until the yellow from helping Caelius get ready had come off, but he was sure no one would notice. No one would be looking that closely at his hands.

Both of his boys were standing behind him, arguing in heated whispers over who had a more ridiculous costume—Caelius, or the person who had dressed up in what seemed to be normal clothes—and Gisela could feel his infinite patience beginning to wane.

But, with a plastered-on smile that didn't reach his eyes, Gisela stepped forward when his name was called and started across the red carpet, already wanting to leave.