Masquerade de la Lune

-Welcome To The Chateau Of Anazai-

A massive twenty seven room estate lay within a mountain city. Its presence within its core looms over human and vampire kind a like. It was rumored that the family that lay within it, lay in bed with the devil. Devious in their business transactions the Anazai family ran that down like they were the mob. For centuries this family has avoided death since their coming in the late 1700 hundreds. Now apart of the myth and legend, the various house members had suddenly stopped venturing out and sudden flux in the human populance has the missing persons count on the rise.

The doors however would be open to the general public, as a red moon rises high into the sky, a Masquerade was called. Invitations were passed a week in advanced by human messenger’s. All races, all social status’s were invited. The invitations were simple, a time was placed and a simple dress code. Formal wear with a masquerade mask. What goals did the Anazai hold? The woman whom wishes nothing more than the annihilation of all races unlike her own, now welcomed them to a ball.

The lights were hung with the upmost care by the attendants for the night along the outer fridges of the ballroom. The room had been the main meeting chamber for all the covens but for the evening was converted. The foremost walls were lined with long windows that allowed the moonlight to shine in with its bloodied rays. An inner balcony held upon it row of chairs for each coven head that would be present for the event. Tonight would be a night to remember after all.

As guests started to pile in and mill around, the string orchestra started to play something low key and melancholy to simply set the mood. Waiters meandered through the tables that littered the walls, leaving the center open where many stood, conversing and waiting. Those gathered below were unaware of the harbinger that loomed above, eyes unforgiving glared down with a tale of upcoming genocide. A plan now set in motion awaited al the final pieces. An odd air hung in the air, “Its time…” came two words from Lirael’s lips as she pulled upon her face a mask of crimson and gold. Crimson and black feathered arched from the right to rest atop her silver and black hair. Six gold bead strands dangled down the same side, moving with each step. Her attire matched the mask though not fashioned in a dress but rather in an ankle length long coat over a vest and trousers. Pivoting lightly, the Pureblood moved down one of the twin staircases that fed into the ‘lobby’ before the double doors were pulled open.

So entered the Hostess and her entourage of True blood coven heads. Each house was represented by their leaders and their mates if they still lived. Lirael’s cane tapped along the carpet that lay within the very center up to the singular throne upon a pedestal. It was there she sat while the others fanned out to the left and right, her chin resting upon the crook of her thumb, watching for the time being. An announcement would be made shortly.

Zeiro had stood there behind Lorelei as she looked herself over in the vanity mirror, his hand cupped around his other wrist in front of him as he stood. An expressionless face was noticeable as he stared at her through the reflection in the mirror. After she had lost the robe, his eyes wandered over her body, taking in every little detail that he could before admiring the red dress that she adorned. It fit her perfectly in his opinion. His eyes immediately dropped to look over himself as well, wearing the suit she had so kindly picked out for him. Zeiro wasn't much for dressing formal. A heavy sigh escaped the Brujah's lips as Lorelei stood and smoothed his tie down. The touch sent a chill through his body, he didn't feel quite ready for a Masquerade. But alas, what Lorelei asked for, he would do no matter the cost.

He dipped his chin down as she spoke to him, trying to listen to her words, he nodded. He had no idea who this Lirael woman was, much less did he care to know. Why she chose to send them an invitation was beyond him. But the woman seemed to have known that he existed enough to do such a thing. He was curious to know how Lorelei knew here, but didn't ask because she was in such a hurry to leave. He followed her to the front door of the cottage, only to hesitated before stepping through the frame because the sun was still showing it's ugly face in the sky. But Lorelei pulled him along and he quickly got into the limo without a word... or a scratch.



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Bryce quickly stepped out of the limo right behind Mollie, nearly bumping into her. He scoffed, hands reaching up to the collar of his black jacket and tugging on it to straighten it out along his shoulders. He then ran his boney fingers through his hair to slick it back once more. He then buttoned up the jacket over his crimson red vest before stepping forward to take a look at the place. "Hmmph.." the noise came from his throat before snapping back to reality once the driver of the limo slammed the door shut behind him. "We're here because we were invited." he spoke, never taking his eyes off the front doors of the Chateau. He was in slight awe at how massive the place seemed to be up close. He took another look around slowly before pulling the masquerade mask from his back pocket. Leave it to Bryce to be wearing dark jeans and a formal jacket to a "party". The Delano tugged at string before slipping the mask of his eyes and pulling the string over the back of his head. The mask portrayed the devil himself. It was the same crimson red as his tie and vest.

Bryce turned to face Mollie a moment before slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. "Forget about all that, Baby. Lets not cause any problems tonight until we know what she is up to." his voice was low and stern. They had to wait on Chastity before he dared take a step inside for the first time. Bryce took another look around before glancing at the limo that had just pulled up behind theirs before the driver took off. Pathetic humans, always so afraid of the monsters. He let out a soft chuckle as he listened to the rubber screech along the concrete drive way. "We're not going home. Not yet...."

The Seneschal of the Vielle Clan idly twirled the ribbon pierced through one edge of the mask on its lap with studied leisure. A small furred head nestled against the crook of its neck before a tail slid up over the Seneschals right shoulder to flick away an unseen speck of dust from the still figures jacket. A pair of silvery-grey eyes stared straight ahead. The monkeys gaze was one of curious preoccupation while the small vampires regard carried an air of dreamy contemplation. Even seated the Seneschal was a curious figure; a four foot child upon first glance it was the first Seneschal to have ever been appointed to the Vielle Clan where a tournament had been held all the previous times a leader had been needed. So little was known about this Seneschal, in fact, that nearly none knew its name and instead called it by its title which few clans in these times made use of. And because the Vielle Clan was one of few whose lineage was untraceable to its vampire of origin, the Seneschal had the rare privilege of standing both inside and outside of vampire society...which really made it all the more infamous. An unknown creature from an unknown line.

Tonight this unknown creature wore its customary garb of black and purple in a long sumptuously detailed robe, a loose silk cravat and hat. That this night would see it admitted into a particularly exclusive ball had made little difference in the choices the small vampire made concerning dress and conveyance and indeed it would make little difference as the Seneschal often took the utmost care in how it presented itself. Now that the car was approaching the gates to the property hosting the Masquerade the vampire made the first motions of alertness glancing first out the window then to its bestial companion. The monkey slid swiftly down the front of the vampire to pluck the mask out of the Seneschals hands and offer it up towards the vampires face. The vampire tilted its head, seeming for a moment to all the world like a small child and just as vulnerable. When the monkey didn't budge the Seneschal drew a finger along the masks edge before taking hold of either string and settling it onto its face, graceful fingers making easy work of securing the ties.

The mask had the smooth proportions of a face and covered the Seneschals forehead before tapering off halfway down its cheeks. The nose of the mask however extended down at a swooped angle much like a crane or stork looking down. The silvery stare revealed by the masks eyeholes seemed pensive and somehow buoyed. There was an interesting time to be had here, it could feel it in the air. In truth, the air shivered with expectation and promise though the Seneschal couldn't tell just yet whether this was a promise of danger or not. Its instincts had never been wrong and even if they were unclear yet, the Seneschal wasn't really bothered.

"And so, into battle we go."

The Seneschals voice was as one would have expected, the high-pitched vocals of a young child yet this was at odds with the austere bite of its tone. Its head swiveled to face the seats directly opposite its own within the confines of the vehicle so he could address the pair seated there.

"Always at the ready.."

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"At the ready, Sire."

"As always, Mistress."

The reply had come from the two women who sat across from the Seneschal and its pet. Up to that moment they'd been as silent as the vampire and more inert. But while the Seneschal and its pets silence carried a thoughtful air there was something about the two women that reverberated with a vulturine vigilance. The color of their irises were too dark, the interior of their posh conveyance too dim to allow even that much to be gleaned. Their throats were garlanded by necklaces dripping pearls though where one wore black pearls, the other wore pearls of polished white. Their clothing was similar only in that they both wore brocaded corsets and skirts layered in first wispy then rich materials. They both, too, wore shrugs that lay flat along one shoulder only to wind around the other shoulder and explode into a confection of ruffles. And, unlike in accessory, their outfits differed not only in hue but in design. Their cheeks wore the barest hint of rouge, the only make-up either had applied.

Their dark hair and pale skin were made all the darker and paler for their outfits and the poorly lit confines of the car. An observor, even of the sharp-eyed vampire sort, would not have easily seen the minute differences in their features. The one on the left who had been the first to speak, adorned at least from the shoulders up in pure white carried the most obvious (at least to those sitting within the car at the moment) stamp of their difference. Beside her left eye ran tiny rivulets of raised skin that stretched from the corner of her left eye and spread apart and out before vanishing beneath her hairline. The marks were really only visible when she moved her hair out of the way and turned her profile up to the light so one could see the small shadows cast by them and even then there were those allegedly eagle-eyed witnesses who'd mistaken the scars for poorly applied make-up. She'd been amused then. There was no trace of mirth in her features as Amariel turned to face the woman next to her, a delicate eyebrow quirked into an arrogant arch.

"Our Lady thought we needed reminding?"

"Our Lord is mistaken."

Nodding at her seatmates frank reply Amariel glanced meaningfully at the Seneschal who merely nodded. Alone, each woman was a lethal and ingenious killing machine. Alone they would have still each ascended the ranks of the Vielle Clan with a speed to admire. Indeed, alone they might have conquered every hardship, tamed every enemy and destroyed all obstacles that they'd faced up to this moment together. Or so the King claimed. Seeing them together though, anyone would have agreed. Physical similarities aside, who would have thought to pair them together before seeing them in action? Amariel, clever with her hands and armed with a playful cruelty when dealing death wouldn't be expected to get along with Jaedalyne, the talented weapons-handler and ruthlessly efficient killer. Despite the mystery, the two divergent personalities harmonized so well that few could imagine them apart after seeing them in action as one entity. Amariel looked out her tinted window as they pulled up beside the great edifice where the ball was hosted, scanning their surroundings and taking note of visible guards, number of guests, clan colors and the like. Her mouth curved at something she saw but the change of expression was soon hidden behind her mask.

Here the almost identical similarities were repeated. Amariels mask was white, where Jaedalyne's was black, the surface covered in sworls of gold and diamond dust before the white of the mask gave way to what looked like a silver skeleton hand reaching down to curl and grasp onto her left jawline. Amariels mask was a sort of stylized crescent that left the right side of her face from the cheekbone down, revealed. The small horns along the forehead of the mask caught the faint light in the car and reflected it in a faint rainbow of silver and gold as the car came to a stop. She and Jaedalyne exited the vehicle through the latters' door and stood on either side so that the Seneschal could follow suit.

"After you, Mistress," Jaedalyne murmured, her voice a pleasant melody despite its businesslike tone.

"After you, Sire," Amariel spoke at the same time, her own voice almost too girly though there was something about her tone that would give anyone who heard it pause.

They had arrived.

Her eyes had remained blankly glued to the window of their car, watching the statuesque buildings pass along unfamiliar streets. A slight feeling of remorse plagued the blonde beauty, who stepped out of the car after her siblings. Bryce was business giving a lax explaination as to their being in the heart of enemy territory to a rather confused and defiant Mollie. She tried, in this situation, to remain calm and not snap at either of them. But tension was high within the Delano.

“Stop your incessant babble.” Came a stern tone from behind them. Unknown to either of them, she was the very reason they were there at that moment. Her form held within a simple dress of whites black and greys only matched the mask upon her face. Blues shifted between them. “I doubt she would do something so publicly. Not just for us three.”

A meeting prior to this event had Chastity sitting in that very estate, alone to spare her siblings the knowledge of them being found so quickly in the City. They were in enemy territory and unlike the time of war this was not ‘neutral’ ground in which they could strike. No. This was the City where Lirael. It was by no means, submission that Chastity had given. But rather an agreeance that would allow them a lapse of peace before fighting again. Three against countless others. Bryce, as strong as he was, would even have to know his place.

The Delano stepped around they embraced pair with a roll of her eyes and moved up the steps, presenting an invitation casually before slipping inside and to the ballroom. Before her loomed, Lirael, perched upon her throne. A sneer marred her painted lips in automatic distaste.

**

A violet ribbon lay around a slender neck, which was constantly the source of her fingers amusement. Moving it this way and that, twisting it between the appendages. Hair, slightly curled fell down Raeventh's back to her ribs. Her chest bound tightly in a black corseted top that laced up the elegant curve of her spine and fell into a long layered dress of the same hue; ballet flats were unseen presence under the length. A simple mask of black with blue gems lined upon the bottom stitching, lay over her face. And even in all this, she looked out of place.

What was she doing here? She’d gotten an invite but knew not the family that hosted nor of the City itself. The Eretik was not one for politics either, so all this was very new to her. Black fingerless gloves of lace held fast her palms that slid down her dresses skirt. Teal eyes shifted slowly after the vampires that walked past her with a small gathering in her wake, then widened. Turning after the woman, she could only watch her and hope that Lorelei would be there with her shortly. Nervousness gripped her very core making her stomach twitch with sickness that churned in its depth.

**

This whole event. For whatever reason, Azriel felt out of the loop. As if her mistress had set into motion a quiet game of chess involving some of the guests and Azriel was just another piece. She moved at her command. That was how it to be. No one was to speak ill of their Leader, no one was to question her decisions. Azriel escorted her father to his place and joined her half siblings off to the side of the main gathering. Her onyx eyes narrowed as she leaned to the side, whispering to the male to her right. “Look…” her chin twitched toward the trio that would enter. “Delano..” her eyes cut away to Marcus a moment then to the others. Some of these people were strangers to her. So how did Lirael know them?

Azriel role was in very many ways, scout and the ‘eyes and ears’ to the coven. Given her annoyingly cheery disposition, she was able to bled in with the idiots. Takes one to know one, right? “And there is another pureblood.” She spoke of Marcus. “I don’t know which house…”

A lengthy pause as she caught the arrival of the Seneschal. They knew of the clan, vaguely were the mutterings of myth shared amongst the children. Vielle. A name uttered with both excitement and fear for little was known. But every now and then, the leader would meet with the Anazai house. It was all secretive and Azriel yearned to be able sit in on one of those rare occasions. She watched as the Seneschal and two guard entered, curiosity perked.

**

Like pieces moved by invisible hand, the guests pilled in. After the last had arrived the main doors were shut and there was a lapse of which the party goers could converse. Lirael however failed to move from her throne. The hand not supporting her chin resting atop the cane that was upright at her side. The eyes of a predatory lacked the warmth of a proper hostess but such façades were not her forte. Each figure that stepped over the polished marble threshold was taken in visually for none blocked her sight. Very few of the attending did she know little about. Though all were welcomed, she knew who would show. In all there were a total of two hundred bodies in the ball room itself in just guests alone. The pureblood count was higher but they were milling around, coming and going as they pleased as they each had their own duties to attend too on this night.

In the seat of tyranny the pureblood leader sat motionless. It was as if something were building to aid in her darkening mood. Come Delano…Come Eretik…Come Half bloods. Come Sireless Ones. Each of them had a hidden reason for being called to this very spot. Lashes lowered into a squint, as the corner of her lips curled slightly upwards for the briefest of moments.

Lirael was pleased.

The mixing of soft octaves and deep timbres set a soft hum ringing in her ear canals, much like the irritating buzz of a bee yet it was nothing but a niggling bother in the background once she grew accustomed to the many mingling conversations. Plush lips tilted in a faint, friendly smile to the waiter as she took a single flute of champagne off of the silver platter the tailored-dressed male held upon the hand of splayed fingers. The flute was swirled round with the slow twirling of her wrist before it rose to painted lips; the slight sip of the bubbly liquid taking place before the flute lowered once again. From behind the mask, a set of steady chocolate eyes stared outwards; the watchful orbs rolling in their sockets as her gaze was flicked from one group of people to the other as she moved through the room.

A polite nod was given when needed or a quiet laugh to certain conversations although it was but one conversation that caught the young Noqturnus’s attention, strides shortening to a slow sashayed dawdle. ”The Delanos are here…” “Here? But them…Lirael…” “Yes…” A brow quirked in slight curiosity as her slow dawdle had led her past the two gossiping men. The next sip to be taken from the champagne was interrupted with the displeased grunt to stain the buzzing atmosphere. Skull swung round sharply, instinctive growl rolling through her chest with the faint insult to reach her no matter how hard the pair tried to keep it at a low whisper.

”…Half breeds..shouldn’t be here..” The faint nod from the male’s wife was to his words, yet a disgusted look was thrown BloodLust’s way with the faint growl to have been heard. Simmering down, BloodLust joined their conversation for a brief instant; sweet smile upon her lips, cheery yet icy glint to her eyes. “Tell me, good sir…why shouldn’t half-breeds be allowed here? Mingling with the likes of Purebloods?” Her gaze was set upon the taller male who looked down upon her with a rather astonishing stare, too baffled at her upfront question to answer although his wife did not hesitate. ”Simple." She said with a snobby shrug. ”Breeds should not mingle with other breeds. It is just not a humane thing to do. Blood is tainted and twisted. Poisoned.” The last word left in a hiss as the female looked down her nose upon the girl of two-breeds yet Lust merely took another sip of her champagne. How she would kill for a shot of whiskey right at that moment. A quiet chuckle shook her shoulders slightly. “Tell me, honey..how many half vampire-half draconic beings do you know?” ”None? That cross-breeding is just..just…unheard of.” “Tis your lucky day for you just met one. Cheers.” With giving the couple something new to bitch about, BloodLust moved on; infamous, amused smirk tearing at plush reddened lips.

Winding her way around the milling people, her empty flute was placed upon the tray of a passing waiter, another being picked up straight away. She’d definitely have to down a shot or two after this night. Caught up in silently cursing the champagne, BloodLust nearly walked past the shorter woman to have come to a standstill, a male and female in tow. The Delanos. It had to be and it was quite nice to be able to put the name to the faces. Unlike Mollie, BloodLust didn’t cower in front of Lirael yet met the woman’s gaze; a nod occupying the curious, awaiting stare. Tongue slipped free of its confinements to bathe crimson lips as Lust lent down slightly to Mollie. “She won’t bite…unless you are in reach of course.” A quiet chuckle followed her words as Lust stepped to the side of the people wanting to get past, her attention shifting back to those within the room, champagne flute lifting to lips once more.


Babbling Purebloods, sneering expressions upon uptight features; the thought and brief imaging caused the Duchess to snort softly, slightly upturned nose wrinkling in disgust as she placed the final snowy feather within the tumble of ringlets to fall from the raven abyss of the bun set upon her skull. Bare feet stayed planted upon the spring grass, the female refusing to taint her flesh with the likes of diseased earth when there was a Masquerade to crash…it’s host? A pureblood! Delightful. The young dove that she had coaxed to her now flopped lifeless within her hand after having had a heart attack, a result of being plucked of its feathers. The tiny creature was gracefully dumped upon the earth before Mercedes rose. Purebloods.. Burnt cocoa orbs rolled within their sockets as she adjusted the half-faced mask (ending just under a single eye) she had pulled out from under the dust of many years for this meagre event.

The accessory was of plain purple velvet; the colour of royalty yet the velvet was tainted with the tiny strands of silver satin to weave over it in an intricate pattern of swirls and waves. The satin ended with the velvet yet the silver continued with the delicate stroke of silver-sparkling paint around the exposed upper face that the mask did not cover; the silver strokes to lace rich olive flesh identical to that upon royal velvet. Snaking around the slender column of her neck was a single loose coil of sapphires, the largest and most licentious sitting just above the fair amount of cleavage that had been placed on display. Beneath that was not a corset yet pearly whiteness that had been wrapped upwards from her hips to her bosom only for the binding material to be coiled back downwards in another layer. Over that, the dress its self had met its lively mannequin. Like the strange binding, it was of snowflake white. The material clung to her figure before it fanned out in a ruffle of royal satin and silken white; the onslaught of material ending with the shocking Purple satin to trail down the back of the dress and end in a slight trail. Bare feet unable to be seen under the ruffles of white and purple.

Mercedes did not expect to see a single soul out front of the building and thus did not pause to do her usual sneering and quirking of a brow at strangers; Cinderella was late for the ball after all. Most gracefully, the Duchess ascended the steps yet her quick strides shortened and stuttered as the very first of her bare footed steps reached the inside of the building. Ruby painted lips were licked in delight, nostrils flaring with the sudden onslaught of emotions to wash over her. Tension was thick, a sliver of Fear wafting from most but flooding off certain individuals. Caught up in her inspection of the emotional buffet, the Empathic barely noticed the waiter to have drifted to her side till the polite, yet slightly unhappy voice interrupted her thoughts. “Champagne, madam?” Dainty hand rose to grasp the fragile flute, the female taking all but a tiny sip of it before moving on; a thank you certainly not required to a lowly waiter. Lirael was given a slight curious glance as she sat upon her ‘high ‘n’ mighty’ throne; The Duchess scoffed quietly without much of a second thought –of course- before she slipped into the crowd, fading into the throes of the Masquerade.

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