Danse Macabre

[Maleficent]

March 20th, Palace of Agrabah, Night

The palace grounds were brilliantly lit with torches both magical and mundane. While there were braziers placed strategically for warmth and light around the floors, a majority of the illumination came from the faerie lights that bobbed and flitted above. 

Music played from the small groups of musicians that stood off to the sides unobtrusively. Different areas of the palace had different musicians and styles of music. In the larger, more open, and more common areas the musicians played livelier, baser music. Sounds of energy and merriment designed for the enjoyment of the crowd. Sounds of revelry. Deeper, more private areas of the palace had calmer music. A smooth atmosphere, designed more towards conversation and idle enjoyment rather than dancing and laughter.

 The common grounds were open to the general populace. Any and all were welcome to enjoy. From the lowliest street rat, to the highest sheikh. The celebration was just as much a party as it was a political statement. A glamorized message. Those who swore allegiance to the Legion flourished.

Word of the fall of the Freedom Fighters was spread to every person, to every ear. Those who resisted fell, those who stood with the Legion flourished. Eat and drink, revel in the spoils of the victorious.

Beyond the common grounds and ballrooms, deeper in the palace's recesses were more private soirees. These exclusive gatherings open to the upper echelons of society and the Legion's members. It was here that the queen held a more private court.

[Tabs]

Tabs didn’t usually dress up. At least, not any more than his uniform of a nice suit and tie went. He felt he was simply too busy for those sorts of things -- he did have people he wanted to please and thus rarely had much time to think of his own comfort. Extravagant lifestyles were for those he reported on, not for him. Besides, the Producer would certainly not approve of such boldfaced distractions from his duties.

So, one could only imagine the kind of confidence the otherworldly writer had to conjure to lock himself in his room for several hours on end with a handful of handmaidens to assemble his costume. Tabs emerged somewhat late wearing a rather eye-catching dress covered with drapes and silver sequins. It looked vaguely Victorian-inspired although with a modern unconventional twists, such as a rather large white feather ruff that almost gave the impression of a crown, and a peacock tail of feathers at the back of the dress. Tabs had also adorned himself with several gold and gemstone rings and a necklace.

Although it certainly was a big step for him to wear the thing in the first place, it was another entirely for him to own it. His face gave away some lack of certainty. Bejeweled claws met at his chest, tapping each other as they did when he was nervous.

Tabs managed to bring himself to the top of a stairwell. He stood for a while. It seemed like his legs were shaking. Maybe it was the heels? Hooves weren’t exactly made for such precarious footwear, especially not when you had three hooves you could barely walk on in the first place.

[Lindsay Curie]

What a frivolous act of pride.

Celebrating a “victory”, the called it. Oh, how they “flourished”. If this was going to happen every time this army cleaned up the mess of an already-dying army and claimed a rock in the middle of nowhere, there was going to be some regret with this arrangement.

And that’s not counting the direct assault not three weeks ago, apparently. Surgical and precise, a small group of assailants had gotten in, killed a vital link in the chain of command, and all escaped with their lives, despite being vastly outnumbered.

Golden gaze narrows. Absolutely ridiculous.

But, apparently this army’s leader was a stickler for one thing in particular: attendance. And thus, the Archivist threw on her best dress and came to this misguided celebration. Whether or not she’d owned this dress before today, though, is a mystery all it’s own.

A dark, almost bloody red thing, sleek and smooth to the point of nearly looking like liquid. High-necked and sleeveless, but with a cruelly-high slit cut into either side of the skirt, nearly up to the waist, the dress was a strange dance between professionalism and danger. One false move, and there could be a scandal. That is, if the creature had anything to hide in the first place. And considering she ran around bare-chested on a daily basis, it was a safe assumption that there wasn’t anything to be concerned about.

Thin arms cross in front of Lindsay’s chest, strange, levitating bangles making a sound akin to singing bowls as they nudge against one another. She would stay here long enough to be seen. Maybe grab some food. But then she was gone.

The rabble can get as inebriated as they please. There was work to be done.

[The Horned King]

The cooler nights of Agrabah suited the cloaked traveler as he entered the gates into the city. It had been a long road to walk since the region known as Germany, and this traveler did not care for pauses for food or rest. Arms folded into each other, the traveler rose up onto the stairway leading into the majestic palace.

Truly it was a marvel; not even the richest monarchs in all of Prydain could match this spectacle in opulence. A small chuckle only heard by himself fled his mouth. The riches and fortunes of all of Prydain had vanished like bits of ashes in the gales of time. Perhaps here, the traveler thought, I could find one with the power to find what I most desire...

Entering the wide doors, the cloaked wanderer made sure to conceal his face, to be revealed only when met by the one who had awoken him. Sensing that the more affluent and ranking members of this festival resided further within, the traveler elected to journey on. As he moved calmly through the palace halls, the traveler perceived the variety of strange and distinctive creatures that inhabited the lands since his...forced repose. 

Footsteps from behind. He was noticed.

"Excuse me! Sir! These rooms are for private parties held by the Sultana! You need her express permission to en-"

The watchman held speaking, mainly from the withered, corpse-like hand gripping his throat with a vice grip. "Excellent." A voice, hollow and raspy at the same time, echoed out of the depths of his cloak. "Tell me, doorman. This...Sultana. Is she a magi of unnatural and extraordinary power?"

The grip loosened for a moment. The guard whimpered softly in the affirmative. The grip then tightened, until the snapping of bone echoed down the lonely hallways. The corpse slunk to the floor. The traveler recomposed himself and slid his withered arm back into the long sleeve of his cloak. "Expendable. Now to find this "Sultana" and see if her magic is what brought me here..."

And so he continued his slow trek towards the room where the magical aura felt the strongest.

[Marius]

It had been ages since Marius had attended a ball. He was glad he had brought his best suit along his travels.

Leather-clad hands tied a golden yellow silk tie closer to his neck before smoothing down a crimson suit. He was going to enjoy the festivities as much as he could. A little fun wouldn't hurt.

He was making his way up the stairs when he came across Tabs waiting at the top.

"Ah... Tabs, was it? Lovely night tonight. It's definitely not what I expected, but even Blackbloods should relax once in a while. See you soon..."

Marius trailed off as he sensed something. Something... ancient.

His right arm was shaking as if in reaction to the presence of whatever had cast its shadow on the festivities.

Marius murmured to himself.

"No...no, that can't be right."

[Claude Frollo]

"Ah... A ball. Very elegant. Very opulent... And very foolish." Frollo thought to himself. Maleficent had set up to have a ball for the success of the legion in Africa. Good plan to one raise the morale of the troops we did have and to gather new ones. The ... More loaded of lady Maleficent's guests were a vast difference to the soldiers she has. Now while he agreed internally that this was a good plan, it was also a bad plan. This was a very bad plan.

We were in the middle of a war, and opening the palace to people not used to being here was a good way to be assassinated. After losing one person to such an attempt, he did not want to lose anymore. So, instead of enjoying the festivities, he stayed watch as a 'chaperone' and plain clothes guard. Should anyone try to make a pass tonight, they would pay dearly for it.

Frollo kept his distance from most of the guests and other soldiers but saw as Marius reacted to... Something? He was not sure.
"Something the matter?" Frollo said approaching him with a glass of water

[Tucker]

Tucker was never one for fancy dinners or party’s at Steven’s house those were few and far between. A simple bow tie was placed around his neck and he was told to greet the guests as they entered his house, giving them a cute look or being told to “beg” and the older shepherd always obeyed. That was years ago.

Tucker stares across the large floor room looking at his fellow soldiers now feeling out of place. He pads forward to mingle with the others soldiers, hopefully Chloe wasn’t here to screw things up.

[Dr. Facilier]

Nineteen days. Nineteen days since he had lost his best, his closest friend.

And perhaps, the only person that he had felt any iota of affection for. But he would never get the chance to show it, thanks to that damned king and his assassins.

A snarl spread across his face, pulling the skin taut as his hand gripped the orb that rested at the end of his cane, knuckles turning white. The orb nearly cracked from the sheer pressure, but he released it before he could do any real damage.

With a deep sigh, Facilier resigned himself to the altar that he had constructed for the Loa in his room, hidden behind a thick, violet curtain. The masks greeted him with their glowing eyes as they hung on the wall, quietly observing Facilier as he walked in.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to ask any favors of y'all." Facilier said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I'm up to my nose in debt to y'all already." he muttered, as he stood silently, offering up a prayer of sorts to the voodoo gods. And then just as suddenly as he had entered, he left, back into his room. He had absolutely no idea why he was attending this ball, but if Maleficent said he had to go, he had no other choice, grieving or not.

He changed into a slick black suit, complete with a white dress shirt and a violet bowtie. The outfit felt stuffy, and much more constricting than his normal clothes, but their dear leader had asked them to dress as formally as possible.

Facilier then made his way towards the ballroom, intending to snatch the first flute of wine that he could find. Gods knew he was going to need it if he was going to try to be "normal".

He spotted Tabs first, perched at the top of a staircase and dressed much more...fancier than he was. He had to give the strange alien some credit though. For being as tall as he was, Tabs certainly could pull off the look.

"Looks like you need a little bit of help goin' down those stairs." Facilier commented, holding back the slightest bit of a smile.

"We wouldn't want you to break your neck after all."

[Nasira]

The music played cheerfully over the murmur of a hundred drunken conversations, as on a fine day in hell. The bubbles from Nasira's second sparkling blueberry-pomegranate drink mildly tickled her nose as she sipped. The necromancer wore a form fitting, long-sleeved deep plum silk dress covered by a translucent, glittering shawl elegantly draped over her thin shoulders. Her long, shimmering black hair looked almost blue from the glow of the braziers and faerie lights.

Nasira looked as though she had been released from a dungeon into sunlight and fresh air. The Freedom Fighters had been taken off the map, Aladdin was gone and Jasmine was rotting in prison. She still had unfinished business with the Rogues, but she had all the time in the world to plot a gruesome comeuppance for Clopin Trouillefou. For once, she wanted to celebrate.

"No...no, that can't be right."

Well, so much for that. Nasira lowered her glass to give the red-headed ghazi a careful, measuring look. "What is it, Marius?"

[Thomas]

Thomas wore a sleeveless leather jerkin over a shapeless jacket. A doublet would have been more appropriate, but the jackets were too expensive and hard to come by in the Arabian Peninsula, so he had to brighten up his old clothes with a jerkin he had only worn once - at a funeral.

It was a tad embarrassing going to a lavish ball dressed as a pauper, but Thomas had no one to help him out financially, so the elites of the Blackblood Legion just had to put up with him looking a little shabby. Even if he did have the money, Thomas was not too keen on spending money on an outfit he would only get to wear sparingly. No, he was content to be a pigeon among swans and peacocks.

Unaware of the impending shitstorm, Thomas awkwardly loitered by a sizable pillar, looking for a familiar face.