Mag Paget, Shotgun Knight (clippedwing) wrote in emillion, |
Ari’s invitation had been a pleasant surprise, especially considering Mag’s uncertainty about the rest of the evening. Fergus seemed to be doing worse than ever, and Kiernan, the proud idiot, had refused to let her and Lav take care of the rent for him so he could stay home. And since he was in Emillion, she wasn’t about to let him stay at home—right now, the last thing he needed was to be by himself, thinking. She would drag him out later in the evening, but for now, she did her best not to worry about him. It didn’t work, so she tried to distract herself by imagining what getups Ari and her friend would show up in. She expected their choice of attire for the evening would not differ from her own. In Anjou, Eve of the Holy Saints meant masquerades; and so Mag had donned a green and gold half-mask and matching dress. As she waited by the fountain in the Theatre District, surrounded by people dressed as undead, monsters or guild members, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Fortunately, barely ten minutes later (it was, by her measure, very nearly punctual) Ari came flitting through the ground in silver and white tulle with a rather fanciful -- and abstract -- mask of her own. The costumer she’d taken her new friend to see the other day had been quite willing to part with used items from her workshop, fortunately, and if her costume was not much like those of the other revelers, it was pretty and fairly comfortable, which meant it more than met the requirements of the day (that, and Ari never had been much of a fan of gore; she already didn’t want it on the battlefield, why bother with it in the safety of the city?). She waved cheerfully to Mag, whose own dress and bright hair were easy to spot as she stood near the fountain. “There you are!” Ari called out as she approached. “Sorry I’m late -- again -- as usual -- but at least you must be used to it by now.” Aspel’s relationship with time was a little flexible too, in Ari’s experience. “I’m sure Perdita will be along any moment, and then I intend to introduce you to the best caramel apple vendor in the district.” She grinned. “I think you won’t complain too terribly much about it.” As if on cue… “Ari!” A young woman dressed in red, orange, and faint traces of blue hurried over to the bard. “There you are! I’m so glad we went costume-shopping together, I’d hardly recognize you otherwise!” Perdita giggled. “Oh, but where are my manners?” she said, spotting the woman next to Ari. She pushed up her mask to reveal her face, and extended her hand. “You must be Ari’s friend! Perdita Arkady, at your service! Are you a bard, too?” |