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Onzi carefully with drink in hand slowly makes his way out onto the dance floor and starts to slowly sway to the music. *looking slightly uncomfortable but warming up to the surroundings*

The Duchess nodded with deep approval at Aurelian's swaying performance, then gestured to her other guests. "Come, come, we must not let our good friend Aurelian Spore-Bearer dance alone! Who will join them?"

Then Tairloth was landing amongst the guests, and shortly thereafter a rather stunning display involving a platoon of soldiers setting up a banner and staircase in the clearing in the pine forest, so that the Lord General could enter the party in a very particular style. Her eyebrows were raised up in amusement at Aleksandr while he bowed, and as he rose, she reached to take his hand, subtly pressing a simple blue eye mask into it as she went to shake it. "Thank you, my dear. One does what one can. Now quickly, put on your mask before you spoil your lovely entrance by being caught out of the dress code. The emporer protects those who comply with policy, after all."

Her smile turned radiantly toward Cris then as the seasoned attendee approached. "Oh, I'm so glad that you could make it again. And my goodness, an honor to meet your child!" She turned, sinking down before the little girl. "It is magical, that's true," she agreed, nodding serenely. "And tell me, little ballerina, are you here to dance for us?"

Ess' pithy observation about rules had the Duchess nodding. The fae were known as wild tricksters, but they had their own rules that they loved and adhered to as if their very lives depended on it. "Too true, my dear," she agreed.

Seeing Onzi begin to sway, she nodded in slight appreciation, hoping that he would warm up even more as time went on.

There were about two things that Imp was as sure of as she was that the sun set in the West; One, pink was almost certainly her color; Two, there was no way that, at any time, in any place, someone had managed to sneak into her bag without her noticing, and place an envelope in there. She was good at what she did - not just the thievery, by the way - and people did not simply manage to rifle through her things without her notice... Yet, there it had been. The embossed edges were smooth under her fingertips as she searched the parchment for any sign of who had planted it, and yet she came back with nothing but the sense of a faint glimmer of magic, and a certainty that she, absolutely, without a doubt in her mind, needed to go to this masquerade.

So, first thing had been first; She needed an outfit. That was easily solved, sneaking into Thickett's borders and plundering a dress shop in the dead of night - to be fair, she had left gold on the counter, she wasn't a monster! And a dress like this wasn't something she could, in good conscience, simply steal; a deep, decadent fuchsia that caught the light in the most delightful way, the neckline daringly low cut, and the fabric clinging and flaring in all the right places. Her ex-girlfriend really didn't know what she was missing out on.

Mask next, easier than the dress thanks to Thickett's garish need to have masks for every single holiday, and Imp simply plucked a simple caprine one from a stall on her way out, black and carved from the wood of a darkwood tree. It would do the job of hiding her identity, not that she couldn't have simply changed her face to whatever she wanted in the first place. It was about the aesthetic, though, so she decorated it with silver stars, took care painting her nails and hooves the same color as her dress, and then it was time to follow the little thread of pull, the insistent tug behind her navel that she hadn't been able to shake all day. That was how she found herself here, at the edge of a clearing, hoofsteps nearly silent on the pine needle-strewn earth as she took in the scene before her.

The music, the lights, the promise of the best of everything. It was intoxicating. Her silver eyes, managing to catch the light even under her mask, took in every detail, cataloging, analyzing, searching for angles. The Duchess was the obvious power center, a vision in her finery. The rose, glowing under its glass dome. She could hear Avira's voice, in the back of her mind, warning about pretty baubles and powerful magic. Shut up, Avira. she thought, with more affection than anger, trotting around the outskirts of the party like a prowling cat. She didn't recognize half the things - people, probably - that were milling about, but a few of them looked… familiar. In shape, at least. Nary a hoof in sight, though. Freaky...

Alright. Game plan. Step one: Rob this place blind. There was no step two.

Imp smoothed down the front of her dress, plastered a smile on her face that may have had teeth like a lion, and strode into the thick of the gathering. Looking like she belonged was easy; Everyone was greeting the Duchess, and so she just had to move along the outskirts, execute a few passable curtsies, and then find her way to the champagne. Maybe dance.

Actually, definitely dance. There was a call to join the dance floor, an invitation she could never resist. Her dress swirled as she moved, a flash of vibrant fuchsia against the winter whites and blues, and her hooves tapped with quiet steps as she dipped through the party to get to the floor. See? She was so good at blending in, even without changing her face.

What a wondrous feeling it was to be dancing during such a magical and special event. Aurelian was getting completely lost in the motion and the music, half-seeing and half-feeling Onzi's presence and the subtle joining of swaying and bobbing motions from others.

It was unfortunate that Aurelian was too focused on the dancing to make the acquaintance of new guests, but there was plenty of time to meet them later. For now, they were not just dancing, but becoming one with the delightful notes dancing on the chilled air.

Their glow intensified, and before anyone even realized or could do anything about it, from the glow tiny flecks of glowing spores emerged from Aurelian's fungal body. They drifted, twirled and scattered across the venue, slow, unhurried, falling gently on the surrounding flora.

The most peculiar thing was that none of the spores would land on the unwilling. Perhaps it was because this was the Duchess's domain and there were invisible rules at play, or perhaps it was Aurelian's own magic transferred through the spores. Those who were touched by the Myconid's spores would experience a blissful kind of joy, perhaps giddiness, or just thankfulness. Most assuredly there was an urge to dance, and the rare individual might experience a very gentle and positive hallucination.

The entrance of Zechs Merquise was short, and simple, as the masked Lieutenant had entered, looking around as you do.

"I hope I'm not terribly late to this party."

Suddenly, two heavily armored knights land in front of the castle as if from a large leap, their helmets covering the entirety of their face. They carry white and gold banners with the image of a golden circle in the center. They blow a pair of trumpets before one bellows.
"MAKE WAY! FOR THE FATHER!"
Then, a flash of pure, honeyed gold light appears as someone seems to descend from the heavens. He wears white and gold vestments with a matching mask. Atop his head is some sort of mitre, and more white cloth covers his face, blocking out his entire visage. In his right hand, he carries a long scepter topped with a ring of pure gold. The entire thing seems to be longer than his entire body.
... Which isn't hard, because he is extremely short.
The boy seems to be of elementary school age if his height is to be accounted for, although the exact age is unclear. He stands tall (or as tall as he can) as the knights bow to him. He walks forwards and bows himself.
"Apologies if I am late, hostess." He says politely, although it sounds odd from his very squeaky, young voice. "I was... Busy."
He thinks back to how he was playing with a pair of dolls before this and simply forgot to check the time...

The moonlight was bright and brilliant as Silver walked up to the grand manor. She felt gittity as she grabbed the hand fulls of her dress and walked to the door. Music drifting in the which clam the butterflies flutteeing in her stomach.

She makes it inside in time to watch the Duchess reveal an enchanted white rose. She was memorized by it for a while, hoping to feel its magic. Then, silently looked around at the other guests.

Malachite watched as the spore-bearer swayed, eyes widening with admiration. He’d never seen a dance quite like it! After setting down his now empty cider, he took to the dance floor as well. Although the man was far from a seasoned dancer, he took advantage of one powerful emotion to put on a decent dance;

Confidence.

He did a solo waltz, not quite like any existing version of the dance, because this one was entirely improvised. He let the music guide his movements, moving rhythmically around the spore-bearer, in-sync with their swaying.

His movements, although maybe strange, were uplifted and made far more alluring by his extravagant clothing and unwavering confidence. A smile befell his lips as he found a sense of enjoyment in the dance.

As she landed, Tairloth ended up adjusting course to land next to the one person she actually recognized. "Long time no see, Cris!" She called out. "Hope a fashionista like you doesn't think my attire isn't too off-theme" As she sheepishly adjusted her cloak, feeling a bit self-conscious about having worn her usual reds and oranges to a Winter Masquerade.

The little fox girl smiled at the Duchess. "I'll learn to do magic too when I'm grown... and I hope I'll look pretty like you!" Then, as if she had suddenly remembered etiquette, she curtsied too, glancing at her mum for approval, which came in the form of a warm all-eyes smile and a soft caress on her shoulder.

But at the offer to dance, her eyes brightened. "Mama, can I?"

"You have been invited to", her mother softly replied.

Reassured, the foxling smiled at the Duchess, stood on her tiptoes, and began to whirl, swaying in tune with the music playing.

Onzi notices the Imp arrive and make her way to the dance floor slowly sliding up to the Imp he says "hello, I'm Onzi pleasure to make your acquaintance"

Thus far, the dance floor was occupied by very few, but Imp really couldn't help but be impressed by the giant, glowing... fungus, maybe? It looked like that. They were a presence, for sure, and she spared many a passing glance, a champagne flute suddenly appearing in her hand as if by magic (it wasn't, she snatched it from a tray she passed) as she slipped onto the floor herself. Very, very carefully avoiding the spores - she wasn't going to risk that, thank you - despite the way they already flittered away from her, anyway, she took a moment to observe, to get a feel for the beat. She didn't need them to know how to dance, after all; She had more rhythm in her little finger than most of the folks here did in their entire bodies. Sort of. Mind your own business at the dance classes her brother made her take so she stopped doing it like THAT.

A waltz. Not the kind of thing she'd normally dance to, but she had to play the part. Her steps were small at first, testing the wood under her hooves, getting the feel of it before she let the music take over. She started with a simple, three-step pattern, hooves clicking softly against the floor. At least someone else had joined in her time observing - some man with enough confidence for three people, it looked like. Bonnabella would like him, probably.

A shimmy here, a shake there, and - Someone was talking to her.

The first place she looked was, to no one's surprise, to the floor, in search of hooves, despite the fact that there was a distinct lack of horns on the stranger's head, and that was enough of an answer. Still no hooves. Regardless, she offered a smile, careful to keep her lips over the sharp point of her fangs, and dropped into a polite curtsy.

"Hello, Onzi. A pleasure. You can call me Imp." she said, straightening up and sipping from her flute; She did not stop the gentle sway she had found. Her eyes, silver and sharp, flickered over him, taking in every detail. "This is quite the party, isn't it? I'm almost afraid to ask how it all works."

Niskali approaches the bluffs at a brisk, businesslike pace, the cold kept at bay by his travel robes, his cloak, and his goddess's blessing. His face is covered by a cross between a mask and a helm, a representation of Her Eminence's visage cast in silver, and the rest of him by the thick cloth of his warpriest's garb: pure white with ice-blue trim, and the visage of the goddess also embroidered in silver on the back of both the robes and the cloak. He's continually aware of the weight of the secure case in one of the interior pockets of his clothing, resting between the thick fabric of his robe and the close-fitting suit of body armor under it.

With the ceremonially rather than operationally important nature of his visit, though he makes a swift, steady pace, Niskali lets the nostalgic sound of snow crunching under his clawed boots bring him memories of his earliest days in first the fleet and then the priesthood, tromping through the frigid wilderness around the goddess's citadel. Then, the site of event comes into view, with all the pomp, circumstance, and ceremony he could expect from the event in progress. That was fine by him, he would do what he did at parties hosted by the goddess: Blend into the scenery and keep an eye out for as long as he had to be there. He was little more than a courier and show of status this evening, and, if he could manage it, he would act like a courier. Arrive, deliver the goddess's gift ("A consideration from Winter to Winter," as she had explained), and leave politely and without trouble.

Arriving to the bluffs, the brass-scaled dragon-like priest makes a line toward not the hostess herself, but staff. Someone who looks adequately senior but not immediately busy, if possible, and who is unambiguously in the duchess's employment. He moves purposefully and quickly, but with an effort to avoid immediate attention. He's just another servant of a guest... only, one who was not in attendance.

If the fox girl wasn't too preoccupied, she might have noticed something tickling her other shoulder, specifically Piemyth who took advantage of Tairloth landing so close to fly down from Tairloth to investigate; they were already fairly familiar with Cris, her children not so much.

Ess let the larger arrivals pass her by. The trumpets, the banners, the brilliant flare of gold and proclamation. All of it mattered, yes, but not in this moment. Her attention settled instead on Silver Wrench.

She turned fully toward her, skirts whispering as she crossed the short distance from the edge of the gathering to where Silver stood near the manor doors. The bells at Ess’s wrist chimed once, a soft announcement meant for one person only. She slowed as she approached, ensuring she did not startle her, then stopped just within conversational distance.

Silver’s posture, the way her hands gathered the fabric of her dress, the quiet awe in her gaze. Ess saw it all. “It does that,” Ess said gently, her voice angled directly to Silver Wrench now, unmistakably hers. Her gaze followed Silver’s lingering look toward the enchanted rose before returning to her face. “This place. It makes the air feel fuller. Like it’s holding its breath the moment you step inside.”

A warm smile formed beneath Ess’s veil. “You look like someone who arrived with butterflies instead of plans,” she continued, tone soft and encouraging. “Which usually means the night has already noticed you.”

She gestured lightly, not demanding movement, only offering possibility. The glow of the dance floor. The laughter. The strange, joyful chaos blooming around them.

“I’m Ess,” she said, giving the name freely, as one might offer a hand rather than a title. “If you’d like a guide for the first few moments. Or just someone to stand with until the magic stops feeling quite so big.”

She remained there, fully present with Silver Wrench, unhurried and attentive, leaving the next step entirely in her hands. ✨

"Quite the party indeed, Imp. I myself am not completely sure how it all works. If I may ask what do you have in your flute? And you absolutely must try the cider it is divine"

The Duchess cast her welcoming glance toward Imp, but seeing how very busy she was blending, and more importantly, dancing, she simply contented herself with that smile and did not draw more attention to the satyr than she was already drawing to herself. She seemed to approve, however.

Almost absent mindedly, she pulled one white glove off of her hand, and reached with her bare skin to touch one of the spores that Aurelian had shed, closing her eyes as she felt the warmth and joy of it spread through her. She let out a soft, blessed sigh, and then swiftly drew her glvoe back on and sprung back into action hosting her party. "Of course you aren't late, my dear," she said to Zechs, beckoning him closer to the buffet table.

But goodness gracious, there were many folks being introduced by military guards this evening! "Nor are you late," she assured The Father, a smile of wry amusement on her face. "Have you met this little ballerina yet?" she added, gesturing The Father toward Cris' young daughter in the ballerina costume.

Sliver chuckled at little as she let go of her dress. She didn't even noticed she was still holding her dress. She looked up at Ess. "You aren't far from the truth. " She giggled. "I am not good at plans. I like to go the way the wind blows me." She tossed her hair a little. "I hope the night noticing me is a good thing.

As if sensing that they were needed, a liveried servant put down their tray of champagne flutes and sidled up to Niskali. "Can I help you, sir?"