Old faces mingled with new though all of them were hidden behind thin veils of leather and lace, satin and metal. Jaq had been more than familiar with more than a handful of the old having been invited to the masquerade annually for almost as many years as it had been running. Only a few years had he neglected to attend, absorbed by much more encompassing things that required his diligent attention. This year, too, he had received an invitation and had been the reason he had traveled to Vienna in the first place; the appearance of the Cirque there not long after was a purely coincidental but welcome event. What hadn't been quite as welcome but as equally a surprise had been the revelation that his runaway childe was signed on with the circus, and his presence changed Jaq's plans. His intentions for the Cirque had originally been to walk its paths and absorb its atmosphere, a simple satiation of a centuries-old curiosity, but with Zane's presence and Jaq's wrathful anger taking root once again, that passing interest turned into an obsession and the contract had been signed.
Upon arrival to the masquerade, however, Jaq had shelved his petty annoyances and burning obsessions with a determination that was admirable.
Hidden behind a mask of gold filigree lined with black velvet, Jaq spoke with old acquaintances some who recognized his voice and lamented their aging while cursing his youthfulness with half smiles and drunken eyes. Jaq had never been a man of excuses and to his credit, rarely lied. He manipulated the truth, but never once in his over seven hundred years had he ever told a bold face lie. He eventually grew bored with the aimless small talk of the unenterprising, and, with a moment spared to gently adjust the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, he bowed his head and excused himself from his present company.
Edging along the main floor, Jaq's eyes drifted across the crowd as he walked. No one in particular really caught his eye at first which was disappointing, and the air was thick with the smell of humans which only fed more into that dull ache of boredom. As he neared the opposite side of the grand hall, something different reached him and as it wasn't a familiar scent, he was all that much more intrigued.
"I would avoid their red," Jaq commented as he grew closer, his voice light and hushed as if what he spoke was a secret for only the two of them. "They have poor taste when it comes to wine." A gentle smile settled onto his features as he offered a hand to the woman. "Jacques," he offered as introduction.