[AW] [EVENT] blood on the dance floor

[Fever]

The differences between the courts are staggering to Fever - the house of Vespera feels moist and soggy in the summer heat, the air here could suffocate you if you allow it - the climate is much different than the arid and dry chokehold of her home. In this cotton-candy atmosphere, where the twilight makes you sticky-sweet, and the stars are rivaled in their twinkling by a pestilence of fireflies, Fever arrives to a festival - a ball - that she honestly had no business to attend in the first place.

Yet, like the insects that made their home in this lush and lolling landscape, Fever was attracted to the warmth and lights of Dusk Court. Flocks of fancy patrons mingled in the courtyard and within the artful halls, dressed appropriately for such a grand and fine event; meanwhile, Fever was unaware of a dress code - although she did choose to certainly rise to the occasion. 

She was adorned with her regular fittings - jewelry and piercings a gilded display of gold that Solis himself would approve - and her mother's sheer face mask. In addition, she donned a veil that matches: it is sheer black and glitters like subtle starlight, it spills over her entire head, allowing the tines on her neck to break through. She wears it to provide even further protection as she is aware of the amount of nobles who usually litter these kinds of parties.

Attached to the last ivory quill in her crown-like spread, is a strand of diminutive jewels that are diamond like in nature and fitted into gold brackets; they ride the curve of her spine and connect to the bracelets that are always wrapped around the dock of her tail. 

Last, but not least, the wild lengths of her untamable tail have been intricately braided into three-strand twists, some of these braids adorned with gilded loc-clasps, and arranged in a large and complex bun. The hair that falls from her crest is braided in the same exotic fashion; while smelling of foreign spices that suggest tobacco and cardamom, this chai incense blend would give away her alien status to this court.

The music in the ballroom did not speak to Fever; usually she could not resist dancing as it was her second nature to display herself like a peacock, and yet, it felt stagnant while lovers and others smooched on their cheeks and spun around in circles. Besides, Fever knew better than to make a fool of herself in the midst of such exalted company - and heaven forbid, someone might recognize her from her days of servitude.

No thank you.

So instead, Fever sauntered to the balcony where a few spectators visited, admiring the skies, quietly speaking to one another. The mare stands with her back to the party, a look of unamusement on her obscured face as she wonders why she went through the trouble of attending. 

Perhaps she was just always on the hunt for trouble.

Perhaps she had a fickle, fleeting hope that she would find her mother amongst the beautifully decorated ladies.

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 tags: open to anyone!
"speaking"

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