fanfic – Page 10 – Longest Night Midwinter Masque

Video: A Quiet Moment – Cyrille nó Alyssum writes to a lover

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My dearest Amelie,

You do not know how much your letter warmed my heart and brought joy to these chilly nights. There is much happening in the Court and amongst us flowers but you will have heard all the gossip by now and you know I am not one to share other’s secrets but do know I have heard most of the current whispers as always. What you will not have heard about is my health. I am unwell and we do not yet know the cause so you do not need to worry about something too well known. Most days I am alright and am able to maintain my duties and loves as I wish and on the days I am not my darling Amarante steps in and helps care for me. I could not ask for a better Second. The rest of my news can keep until I see you on the Longest Night but I do beg of you that you keep me in your prayers to Eisheth.

With all my heart,

Cyrille nó Alyssum

Video: How to Get in Touch with Orchis

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A woman is lying face down on a bed, her back bare, a sheet covering her from the waist down. A man’s hands are massaging her bare from off-screen. Soft, romantic music plays in the background

The woman moans and sighs contentedly.

WOMAN: Have you got any protection?

She sighs

Camera pans up to the curtains in her room. The music stops, replaced by loud metallic screeching and banging noises.

The camera pans back down to the woman and man lying in bed, wearing full body personal protection equipment, including body suits, medical face masks, surgical hair coverings, plastic face shields, and nitrile gloves.

Man: (whispering) You got the stuff?

The woman opens a bottle of antibacterial hand gel and squirts some on their gloves. They rub the hand gel vigorously over the entire surface of the gloves. Soft, romantic music resumes.

Fade to: white text on black screen: Get your Masque on!

Fade to: the woman and man stand opposite each other on the bed. The man holds out a measuring stick and touches it to her chest. She shrugs.

Video: Welcome to Dahlia House

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I’m Jocaste nó Dahlia the Dowyane of Dahlia House. And I suppose you’re here because you want to learn more about us you want to understand more about what makes us feel very special.

Well, to understand us you need to understand that many of us come from other Houses, originated somewhere else. We were chosen for this House because we demonstrated an ability to lead; we demonstrated a bigger vision; we demonstrated a deeper understanding of the allure of power.

Now, our friends at Mandrake and Valerian definitely understand that. But we’re talking about political power. We’re talking about the ability to lead people…into movements, into abundance, and into fulfillment.

And in fact, a night at Dahlia House is simply a chance to be to have an audience with us, to be part of that environment of power crackling with electricity, crackling with anticipation, with tension or flirtation and courtly love. To have the opportunity to be noticed. And the opportunity to be chosen, among many.

Every adept in the Night Court, regardless of your House gets to choose their own patrons. But in Dahlia House, we have many patrons that we can choose from any given night, or we can choose none at all.

And that itself is satisfying that itself is the tease, and the play, and the intrigue, that we inspire.

For example, I should have been in Gentian House. I should have been a mystic and a seer – a dreamer of dreams. But I wanted to change the way that they approach things. And at the tender age of 10, I tried.

And that is how I got chosen for Dahlia. That is how I was fostered into leadership of this House. Because bringing out the best in our lovers and making them earn that opportunity to see the private “us”, to have that pedestal of acclaim and achievement is seductive in and of itself.

Who doesn’t want to take credit for a queen, inviting someone to her bed? A king, recognizing you in public, and giving you his favor?

We are no stranger to those who have been locked out at the court and their ambitions have been thwarted one way or another. They get to play out that fantasy with us to earn our attention. And it’s no mistake that we are often called upon to be advisors to the court.

So, House Dahlia will definitely surprise you. Yes, we hold our heads up high. Yes, we all have imaginary crowns on our heads. And you will want us all the more so for it.

Please enjoy this Longest Night’s Midwinter Masque, the biggest event in Terre d’Ange. We look forward to meeting you and seeing you show your worth.

Video: Petrea’s Offer

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PETREA NO CEREUS and MARCO DECIMUS, her lover, lie in bed in her private chambers after an intimate evening.

PETREA

I wish your time in the city were not so short. Your visits come far too rarely for my tastes. You scholars – how you do wander. It’s a wonder you visit me at all, what with you jaunting from one end of the world to the other.

MARCO

(chuckles)

You know that I always make my way to you, no matter where my travels take me, dearest.

How go your plans for the Midwinter Masque? I know from your letters that Aliksandria tasked you with the preparations.

PETREA

(groans)

MARCO (CONT’D)

You have concerns of the ball? Or is it this scandal you have written about that troubles you?

PETREA

Oh the ball, itself, will be spectacular. But I fear there shall be no joy for me on the Longest Night. You know the City of Elua loves nothing more than a scandal. And I hate nothing more than a scandal – so tiresome.

(annoyed)

The gossiping grows worse by the day. One can no longer avoid the rumor mongering. There is even a whisper that I am humiliated by the thought of another Second being chosen over me – when nothing could be further from the truth. It has gone too far. The foolish stories are on the lips of every person in every shop on every corner throughout the city, not to mention in every chamber of every House here on Mont Nuit.

(angrily)

There is literally no one I do not hate right now.

MARCO

(laughs, then his voice turns serious)

You seem less and less content each time I see you. And this..this seems too much for you.

He pauses briefly as if something has occurred to him.

MARCO (CONT’D)

(thoughtfully)

Would you ever consider leaving the Night Court?

PETREA

You mean retire? It is not…it is not done.

(sadly)

One does not retire for the simple fact that one is unhappy in one’s place and dislikes courtly gossip.

MARCO

No, no, of course not. But there are other reasons for leaving. Marriage, for example. Others who have made their marque have married and left the Night Court. Left the City. Left Terre d’Ange, even.

PETREA

(thinking out loud)

Marriage? Well, yes, that does happen. But who would I marry? I have dear friends, it is true, but not any who would agree to a marriage of convenience and certainly not any whom are not entangled in..oh.

She pauses as his meaning dawns on her

PETREA (CONT’D)

Oh.

She is silent for a moment, realizing what he is suggesting.

PETREA (CONT’D)

Are…are you proposing marriage?

MARCO

I am.

PETREA

But surely you wish to marry for love, and not simply to take pity on an unhappy woman.

MARCO

I do wish to marry for love. And I would be.

PETREA

Oh.

MARCO

I love you. I love you more than any words in the world can express. Why do you think I come back to you time and again?

PETREA

I thought you enjoyed my company. That I was a stop along your way back to Tiberium from…wherever it is you go.

MARCO

Well there is that, but you are so much more to me than that. Marry me. Come to Tiberium with me. I have a home there. Perhaps not quite as lavish as Cereus House…

PETREA

(laughs)

MARCO (CONT’D)

(his words coming faster)

..but it is comfortable. Let me take you away from here. Away from this life that you do not love. We could travel if you like. Let me show you the world. There is so much more than what you have seen and experienced here in the City. Or not. We don’t have to travel. We can stay in Tiberium. We can have children if you like. Or not. You can study at the university if you like. Or not, if you do not wish. It matters not.

(more gently)

All that matters is that you come home to me at the end of each day. Whatever you want, I will give you.

(quietly)

You can return as often as you like. Whenever you like. I know that there are people here that you love and could not bear to be separated from forever. I know that this is your favorite time of year, and I promise that we’ll always arrange any travels so that you’re here at Cereus House for the Midwinter Masque. What do you think?

Video: Odilia Gets The Letter

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SCENE: [ODILIA is looking out the window, pensive, worried, something weighing on her mind.]

ROSANNA: (offscreen) Odilia?

[ODILIA turns to look at ROSANNA waiting by the couch, she manages a smile]

ODILIA: Rosanna.

[ROSANNA knows her friend, she knows better than to believe the smile.]

ROSANNA: What is it?

[ODILIA crosses to the low table and hands ROSANNA the letter lying there.]

ROSANNA: The royal seal…

ODILIA: Read it.

[ODILIA sits at her couch and sips her wine, watching ROSANNA read. She sits slowly too as she reads aloud.]

ROSANNA: (reading aloud) “Dearest Odilia, In these uncertain times when I have more on my mind than ever, I find my thoughts turning to you more and more.”
(breaking off) Odilia, this seems personal…

ODILIA: Keep going.

ROSANNA: (reading aloud) “The loss of my beloved brother weighs heavily on me, nearly as heavily as that weight that I never thought to bear. As the nights grow longer, I have more time than ever to consider that which lays before me. Mon coeur, I long for your arms and for your advice as to what is next for me. For us. I must take the crown and my mother has warned me that the weight of it will change everything. I stand at the precipice of something new, knowing now more than ever I will need guidance. And so I have made a choice. The Longest Night celebrations will soon overtake the city but my heart is not in them. Instead, I will stand Cassiel’s Vigil through the night, praying for Elua’s guidance and blessing. I regret I cannot share the evening with you as I had wished but to that end I ask for your assistance. As I cannot attend the fete at Cereus House, go in my stead and speak with my voice and represent me among your peers and other guests-”
(breaking off) Odilia, this means something.

ODILIA: Yes, it does.

ROSANNA: Has he asked you to be….?

ODILIA: No. Not yet. I thought he might but then the plague and the loss of his brother…there was no time.

ROSANNA: (reading aloud) “I can trust this to no other for no other is the queen of my heart the way you are, no other knows my heart and mind the way you do. I have every faith in you and place my trust in you completely. I miss you and pray the spring will bring us together again. Yours ever devotedly, Gustav.”

[She sets the letter aside and looks at her friend. ODILIA is valiantly trying to keep her composure but ROSANNA knows her friend too well.]

ROSANNA: Are you alright?

[ODILIA stifles a laugh. ROSANNA takes her hand.]

ROSANNA: Are you ready for this?

ODILIA: I have to be.

Masque Prep Fanfic: Rosanna Baphinol nó Valerian

Almost from the moment the rumor began of an Official Consort to the Dauphin Mont Nuit had been aflame with questions. Supposedly said potential Consort was a close friend of hers, therefore to gossiping minds Rosanna just had to know all the details of how and why and when this affair had begun. Not that Rosanna would ever tell, of course. But with the future King choosing to shy away from the biggest party of the year, well the queries had started to arrive in more and more imaginative forms.

“A donation to the construction of a new shrine?” Rosanna rolled her eyes and continued to look over the collection of masks laid out for her inspection.

“So they say,” her Second replied with a shrug. Tryphosa made a note of who sent that letter and went back to sorting the growing stack of correspondence. “As though we need a new one. Besides, where would we put it? And in return for information on Lady Dahlia’s particular favorite gifts?”

“They are desperate to ingratiate themselves to her inner circle, if the rumors are true. As though I would give them anything.” She examined a mask covered in peacock feathers. “Besides, it’s more fun to watch them wriggle and guess.”

“Are you sure Mandrake didn’t bid for your marque?”

“Not at all. I just like the games of court and Odilia is giving them the spectator sport of their lives. A member of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers maybe becoming Royal Consort? And not a Cereus? It’s a scandal and I love a good scandal.” No, that mask wouldn’t do, she returned it to the pile and continued looking through the choices. One caught her eye, it was made up entirely of the most delicate, silver chains she had ever seen. silver chain masque It took both hands to hold it up properly, the metal glittering in the candlelight. Oh yes.

“Do you think he’ll be a good king?” Tryphosa leaned back on the settee, a lock of platinum hair falling becomingly across her face. Rosanna looked at her over her shoulder, studying her friend and Second. “What with his brother passing away so unexpectedly, the whole country turned on its head for months in mourning and gossip.”

“I admit I wasn’t ready when I had to take up being Dowayne,” she replied and held up the mask to her face. Even if her costume had been complete for some time she had yet to find just the right mask to complete her disguise. It all felt rather like a metaphor to life in court – any court. “My predecessor did leave quite suddenly, I thought I had more time to prepare for this. I imagine it was similar for him, on a far greater scale mind you.”

“But your family is, well,” Tryphosa waved her hand looking for just the right word to describe Rosanna’s huge family.

“Overbearing?”

“Rich is more what I was going for. Well connected is polite. They expected you to make Dowayne one day, so did you and never hid it.”

“True,” Rosanna gave a laugh. “But an assertive Valerian? It sounds like an oxymoron doesn’t it? But as the youngest in a brood I never wanted to end up in my siblings’ collective shadows, so I do not think I can be blamed for pushing ahead. No matter how impromptu my promotion came.”

“Maybe the Dauphin is like that too. He’s so sweet, from what I’ve heard, perhaps people underestimate him. Does your friend hint at any of that?”

“If I am not going to hand over pillow talk to a high paying patron why would I give it to you?”

Tryphosa threw a pillow and Rosanna just barely ducked in time.

“Resorting to violence? Now who belongs in Mandrake?”

To be completely honest the girlish play was soothing. Rosanna did know quite a lot, enough to worry her over just what sort of traps the court was placing for her friend and the Dahlia’s golden prince. Being born into the nobility herself, she knew just how vicious the landed class could be. But she had faith in the Precept, which she held steadfast in her heart, and that Blessed Elua would be watching over them all on this holy night. Such devoted thoughts were cut short by the touch of a flesh and blood hand on her shoulder, and Rosanna pulled herself together.

“Oh hush,” Tryphosa grinned despite not getting the gossip she desired. “Are you done picking your mask? We have a ball to get to.”

Read the story of our Masque here and submit your fanfic story.

Masque Prep Fanfic: Petrea nó Cereus

Petrea nó Cereus stood in front of the full length mirror as an adept of Eglantine House busied himself around her with fabric and bric-a-brac, sketching and stitching the beginnings of her costume for this year’s Midwinter Masque. She frowned at the mirror, unhappy with her reflection. She was getting on in the years, the beauty of her youth seeming to fade faster and faster every day. But wasn’t that almost the point of Cereus House – for one’s beauty to fade? How was that supposed to be something to be admired? Petrea sighed. How had she ever risen to Second of the most glorious and noble House of the Night Court with thoughts like that?

Outside the room, Petrea could hear adepts gossiping in low tones. Of course, no one could stop talking about the affair between the Dauphin and Odilia nó Dahlia, and certainly not in the Night Court. The mood in Cereus House seemed to be one of the biggest topics of discussion and whether or not the Prince choosing a Dahlia was seen as a slight to the oldest and most noble House. Petrea shook her head and absently stroked the Eglantine adept’s head. Did people really think that the Prince had purposely fallen in love with Odilia out of spite? The social politics of the Night Court – and noble Court, for that matter – drove her practically to madness at times. But gossip as thou wilt was practically a second tenet of the City, so she could not ignore it, lest she look foolish to her patrons and bring dishonor to her House.

Turning her thoughts back to the grand plans for the Masque, Petrea reminded herself to make sure her private invitations had been delivered. The position of Second did allow her certain privileges and she didn’t hesitate to take advantage of them when it suited her. It had been a difficult year and she planned to enjoy every moment of the Longest Night.

Read the story of our Masque here and submit your fanfic story.

Masque Prep Fanfic: Aliksandria nó Cereus

“I am Aliksandria nó Cereus, Dowayne of Cereus House.” I repeated this to myself again.

I looked around the hall at the members of the City Judiciary. The magistrate, the leaders of the trade guilds, and representatives of the nobility. I had been Dowayne for five years, and I still felt I was play acting at leadership. I could list the reasons I had been chosen to this role, the steps of the ladder I had climbed to reach this seat and, yet, I felt an imposter still. I feared I would always feel this way.

My predecessor had warned me about this part of the job. He had told me that the Night Court’s seat on the Judiciary was always in jeopardy and that the guild leaders would look for any way to oust us. He had also told me that this had been the way of it for hundreds of years, and that they have never succeeded. But I don’t think he could have prepared me for this.

The guild leaders had spent the bulk of this session railing about how the Night Court held unfair advantage by holding both the seat in the Judiciary and our seat on the Council of Religious Orders. In truth, it was a tired argument that I had heard since I was Dowayne’s Second, and had been old even then. They then shifted their argument to one of undue influence, again an oft used argument due to our history of giving counsel to members of the nobility, including house royal. This argument was, however, made more poignant due to the Dauphin’s current tryst with Odilia.

“We, the leaders of the trade guilds, put forth that while one or the other advantage might be overlooked, the occurrence of both cannot,” stated the leader of the silversmiths guild, a Monsieur Jacques Halceaux. “The trade guilds put forth that the Night Court must cease to give counsel and succor to the Scions of House Courcel, specifically and most urgently, ending the affair of the Dauphin and the adept of Dahlia House.”

The magistrate weighted the words carefully before turning to me: “How does the representative from the Court of the Night Blooming Flowers respond?”

I took a deep breath.

“I am Aliksandria nó Cereus, Dowayne of Cereus House,” I reminded myself.

“The Night Court is not in the practice of refusing to conduct business with members of noble houses so long as guild law is enforced and heresy does not occur. Furthermore, while I am a representative of the Night Court in this Judiciary, I am not its de facto leader and cannot dictate to other Dowaynes. As to the relationship between Odilia nó Dahlia and the Dauphin Gustav de la Courcel, it is not within the Night Court’s purview to sanction or forbid this union, as her marque has been made and he has reached his majority.”

This appeared to be the response Monseiur Halceaux had hoped for, as a triumphant smile flashed across his face. “If that is the Night Court’s response, than we put forth that its seat on the Judiciary is forfeit.”

The Magistrate raised his hand, “The leader of the silversmith’s guild is reminded that such an action would require a discretionary period and a vote by two thirds of the members of this body.” He then turned to me, “My Lady Dowayne, I recommend you bring this issue to your fellow Dowaynes and discuss amongst your guild how you wish to proceed. We await your final word on the matter when we reconvene after the Longest Night.”

The Longest Night.

scrollwork

Read the story of our Masque here and submit your fanfic story.

Masque Prep Fanfic: Eirini nó Gentian

“Stay still, Corinne,” Eirini nó Gentian tried to sound firm even through her smile as the young adept squirmed with excitement, “If I stab you with this hair pin, guess whose fault it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Corinne tried to sit still, “It’s just….my first Midwinter Masque! Eirini, I’m so excited!”

“I know,” the Dowayne said with a patient smile, remembering how excited she had been for her first Masque years ago. She secured the last part of the intricate hairstyle and shooed the girl away, “Go find Eva for final checks.”

The adept curtsied and left, closing the door to the Dowayne’s apartments silently behind her. Finally alone, finally with the time to prepare herself, Eirini nó Gentian sat behind her desk, poured herself a cup of tea, and took a moment to breathe. The awareness of the breath was the first thing Gentians learned upon arriving in the House, for it was the foundation of life and the basis for all meditation and trance-work. She breathed, in and out, and it was only too easy to close her eyes and sink into the meditative state she had been resisting all day. It was Midwinter, the shortest day of the year and the longest night. It was a tipping point between dark and light, winter into spring, night into day. It was a sacred and magical day. And there was much riding on this day and the Masque this night.

Eirini had heard the news, heard the gossip in her dreams and in the salon as well. The young Dauphin, the new Crown Prince Gustav de la Courcel, would be standing Cassiel’s Vigil tonight, not attending any of the fetes throughout the city, not in the Royal Palace and not in Cereus House. But lest his absence be considered an insult or offence, he had chosen a representative to send in his place. His Official Companion would be attending the fete at the Palace, playing nice with the court and courtiers. But to the Court of Night Blooming Flowers, the Dauphin had chosen to send a Dahlia. A deliberate slight? An innocent action? After the unrest and the loss that had gripped the nation at the beginning of the year and changed everything, there was too much riding on this night to risk entering Cereus House unprepared.

So Eirini reached for her deck. Six cards, arranged around the teapot still steaming on her desk. Six cards, turned over one at a time. Six cards, each whispering in her mind, trying to give their wisdom and warnings. The spread had become a vine, a single stalk with two unfurling branches, a single momentous choice with two potentials revealed.

Tarot Card Spread

The Wheel of Fortune and the Fool warned the Gentian about grand changes, changes that the country may not be fully prepared for. The right branch spiralled from the Lovers reversed into the upright Seven of Cups. Shallow intimacy and lack of deep and true connection that would lead to dreams impossible to achieve and a time of stagnation for Terre d’Ange. The left branch rose from the Fool, through the upright Two of Cups to end at the Devil reversed. Connection and communication and community would bring freedom and a Terre d’Ange in control of their own fate.

Eirini sat back in her chair. She reached for a flask from one of her desk drawers and spiked her tea. She would need it.

“Joie to us all,” she muttered.

Masque Prep Fanfic: Odilia nó Dahlia

This begins our fanfic series of our roleplaying characters preparing for the Masque. Read the story of our Masque here and submit your fanfic story.

“What are you afraid of?”

“What am I not afraid of?”

“Odilia.”

Odilia nó Dahlia turned from her vanity, turning from her reflection to look at the Dowayne standing behind her, “Jocaste, everything has changed. How am I supposed to do this? This wasn’t what I expected.”

“Odilia nó Dahlia,” Jocaste said, her silver and black hair gleaming in the lamplight, “You have done so well. You have brought pride and honour to this House. You have supplanted the Cereus as the rulers of the Night Court and you did it because of what you are. What are you, Odilia?”

“A Dahlia.”

“And our words?”

“Upright and Unbending.”

“You will do this. It’s just one more impossible thing and I have watched you eat the impossible for breakfast. There is a reason I chose you for my Second and it is because no matter your parentage, you were born to be here.” The Dowayne drew herself up to her full height and said, “You will enter that Masquerade at my side with your head held high because that is where you belong. And you will continue to do us proud. You charmed a prince, you can charm a ballroom just as easily. Now, set your hair, paint your face, and dress in your costume. It is the Longest Night Midwinter Masque and Dahlia will represent.”

The Dowayne closed the door to the Second’s apartments firmly behind her, already speaking to Aurelie waiting in the hall. Odilia exhaled and turned back in her chair to face herself in her mirror. Who was she fooling? She was as common as they come. Born to a jeweller off Rue Courcel, from a mother who was a painter. An artisan family. Dahlia had found her and raised her up to be a queen of her own little court, proud and fearless, confident in her power. But no matter all of that, her peasant heart still beat with common blood. And somehow she was supposed to be fit for a prince? The Crown Prince, no less.

She covered her face with her hands and dared to wish that he hadn’t come to her. She had been happy as the Second, content to lead the House and ready herself to move up to the Dowayne position when it was time. She was happy to give back to the House and the family that had educated her and trained her and shaped her to be part of a grand legacy of courtesans in Terre d’Ange. And then he had come. And he had chosen her. And he had been young and still learning himself and she had listened and given advice and he had followed it and he kept coming back and she had teased him; people will say we’re in love, and he had turned red and she had seen it in his eyes. And he had set the fashion, more nobles and courtiers were coming to Dahlia, coming to see what courtesan could have turned the prince’s head from mourning his older brother, coming to look at her and gossip about her.

She had heard the whispers. Heard the speculation. She knew there were bets on whether he would ask her to be his Official Consort, whether she would survive court, whether she would crack under the pressure. And then he had asked her to represent him, asked her to attend the Masque with his voice, in his place, and she had felt fear. What was she afraid of? She was at the edge of a precipice, staring into the unknown, terrified to take that step because what if she fell?

Then again, what if she flew? And those gossip-mongers, those blue-blooded nobles, those who were waiting for her to fall and fail, they didn’t know her. They didn’t know that the best way to get Odilia nó Dahlia to do something was to tell her she couldn’t.

She took a deep breath and picked up her dahlia necklace. How better to remind everyone at the Masque who she was than by wearing her flower with pride? She was Odilia, Second of Dahlia House, favoured by the Crown Prince Gustav de la Courcel. And her Dowayne, Jocaste nó Dahlia was right. She ate impossible for breakfast. She held her head high and clipped the necklace around her throat.