InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Beam me up, Scotty!"

Clockwork (clockworkmaster) wrote in clockwork_rp,
@ 2008-06-08 05:53:00

Entry tags:

agito/akito::fangking, al::sealed_soul, allen::crownedclown, amaterasu::leap_b4_think, apollo::herrforehead, asuka::antabaka, badou::gunfag, batman::gotham_guardian, bruce::wayne_ceo, chidori::lightningloli, chris::not_my_age, cloud::chocobo_head, dante::devilishstyle, elise::just_smile, fuumei::hecatoncheire, hitsugaya::hitsugayataicho, jet::hawktail_rogue, kaname::nine-orchids, klavier::guiltylove, l::sugarstacker, lara::raidandpwn, matt::ministripes, mello::bitterrosary, miles::gearheadmiles, millay::festeprez, mitsuru::bandou, near::thehermit, nero::devilbringer, nightwing::flying_solo, rabi::49thalias, sano::fabulous_clock, shuro::boybandbait, sonic::lilbluehedgie, spitfire::flamingstylist, tres::gunmetalhound, vash::stampeded, vergil::neloangelo

Masquerade Log
Who: Everyone!
What: The Masquerade
Where: The ballroom
When: 5:00 PM to 5:00 AM
Why: Because it's Clockwork's birthday!
Warnings: Who the heck knows?

The ballroom doors open promptly at 5:00 PM, revealing a lavishly, but tastefully decorated ballroom. A balcony circles the room, lined with tables for the guests, as well as a small grand staircase that leads down from the double doors to the dance floor proper. No band is seen, but music echoes through the room nonetheless, all instrumental but also some very nontraditional pieces. The buffet takes up the opposite wall from doors on the first level, seeming to have something for everyone, but the centerpiece is the cake. Large enough to feed two generous portions to every resident of the building and still have some left over. Flavor dependant on who eats it. It is an exact replica of The Building and its surrounding property. The hands on the Clocktower are set to 12:00 and around the sides of the cake, in the same perfect, flowing calligraphy as the invitations, are written the names of every person that had been brought to the world since those first few characters. The ones that had come through that first summer a year ago written in gold; the ones that had since left in black; the ones that had taken their departing into their own hands in red; and the current residents in silver.

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	.:The Dance Floor:. clockworkmaster 2008-06-08 09:54 am UTC (link)
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bandou
2008-06-09 12:42 am UTC (link)

He didn't know why he came to that place, save that he'd made a promise to a beast, and he really wasn't the kind of boy who went back on his word. It was a matter of pride, they said, and he was the sort who had pride in abundance. No, he'd weather his storm as he said he would, just another masked youth amidst an ocean of grinning faces and flowing cloaks. He walked among them, that gauntlet of nameless masks and faceless people, winding his way through the moving labyrinth in search of (not anything familiar, familiarity had no bearing in this place) something to bide his time. He would not stay for the whole event, no. Do his time, find what he needed to find, and make his way back to the safety of his room. A simple plan, that.

It wasn't long before he found himself on the dance floor, and he paused on the edge of the space, just another figure in black looking on in hesitation, and he was grateful for the respite granted by his mask. None could see the uncertainty that glimmered in dark eyes.