[indent][indent][indent] [table] [row] [sup][h3][b][color=2e2c2c] ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [right]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/right][/color] [/b][/h3][/sup] [/row][row] [cell][color=2e2c2c]______________________________________[/color] [right] [img]https://i.imgur.com/vz3gTHR.png[/img] [/right] [/cell][cell] [color=2e2c2c]__________________________________________________[/color] [color=2e2c2c]__________________________________________________[/color] [sup][h2][center] [color=black][sub]L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N[/sub][/color] [color=93a477][sub]L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N[/sub][/color][center][sub][sub][url=https://i.imgur.com/6Qzbfnt.jpg][i][sub] dress ♖[/sub][/i][/url][url=https://i.imgur.com/lz8Q0Rx.jpg][i][sub] crown ♖[/sub][/i][/url][url=https://i.imgur.com/BBlkQ84.jpg][i][sub] mask ♖[/sub][/i][/url] [/sub][/sub] [/center] [/center] [/h2][/sup] [center][color=silver][sub]D A M I E N E S T A T E , E V E N I N G[/sub][/color][/center] [center][color=gray][sub][sub]I N T E R A C T I O N S : [/sub][/sub][/color][/center] [center][color=gray][sub][sub]M E N T I O N S : [@SilverPaw] [/sub][/sub][/color][/center] [/cell] [/row] [/table] [/indent][/indent][/indent] [indent][indent][indent][indent][indent] [img]https://i.imgur.com/eHHlypM.png[/img] [/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent] [indent][indent] [color=gray] [color=silver]“My little light!”[/color] Zarai froze in her tracks. A cold sweat ran through her body, and the hairs of her neck stood straight up. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned to face Lord Monet. Every fiber of her being recoiled at the sight of him, from his smug demeanor to the way his piercing gaze slithered over her like a serpent. His compliments, veiled in honeyed words and subtle gestures, only served to deepen her disgust. Lord Monet personified everything she found despicable in a man: his wealth and power, now spoke of his true nature. But what truly fucked her up was the relentless pressure from her mother to even consider Lord Monet as a potential suitor. Her mother feigned ignorance of Zarai’s feelings and instead reveled in the promise of obtaining his gold. Each mention of his vast lands, grand estates, and luxurious possessions was like a dagger piercing Zarai’s soul. [i]Red. All of them red.[/i] [color=93a477]“Lord Monet,”[/color] Zarai replied coldly. She had considered pretending to be someone else, using the anonymity of the masks to her advantage but he’d already ruined her evening with his pressence. Who was to say she could not ruin his? [color=93a477]“Mother had mentioned Calbert’s taste was declining, so I should not be so surprised to see you here. Although, the Damiens should really add in a hygiene requirement to their invitations.”[/color] A tiny smile tugged at her lips when she saw the man swallow down his surprise at her words. She could almost see the coyote mask frown at her. [color=silver]“Now, now, my star. You should not be speaking that way.”[/color] Lord Monet shook his head as he took a step closer to her. Zarai held her ground, but the stench of moldy washcloth left out in the sun to dry masked by expensive cologne overwhelmed her nostrils. [color=silver]“Such a pretty mouth cannot be saying such nasty things! And such thoughts will ruin your that little brain of yours.”[/color] [color=93a477]“Ruined enough to be sent to the sanatorium, I hope.”[/color] Zarai gripped the flute of champagne with both hands. [color=93a477]“Now, I’d rather continue my evening rather than stand here and be reminded of what a wet dog smells like. Have a good evening, Lord Monet.”[/color] She turned to leave, but meaty fingers wrapped around her forearm with a force she was all too familiar with. [color=silver]“Listen here, you little slut, if you think you can speak to me like that, I will–” [/color] [color=93a477]“Will what, sir?”[/color] Zarai spat out as she wrung her arm free, her eyes burning with loathing. She smirked, daring him to strike her. When Lord Monet said nothing and only stared back, she scoffed at him and turned to walk away. [color=silver]"... bitch."[/color] [color=2e2c2c]______________________________________[/color] [color=2e2c2c]______________________________________[/color] Music pounded in her ears, a relentless rhythm that consumed her senses. The voices of the crowd, once a comforting hum, had become a distant buzz. Her feet carried her through the crowded ballroom, a lonely wanderer amidst a sea of faces adorned with elaborate masks that blurred together in an endless sea of anonymity. Even the lifeless eyes behind them seemed to bore into her, their gaze hollow and devoid of emotion. Zarai found herself standing by one of the servants carrying a tray of champagne flutes. She took one, downed it, and did the same with the other two. The fourth, she snatched up before a man in a rabbit’s mask took it. The tall blonde blinked at her, but recognition flashed in his eyes as bowed before leaving to search for another drink. Zarai grasped at the flute– the familiar stinging of the alcohol doing very little to calm her nerves or stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks. She longed to escape, to break free from the suffocating atmosphere of the masquerade ball. As she stood there, clutching a champagne flute in her trembling hand, her gaze fell upon a tall, dark figure across the room. The stranger exuded an aura of mystery and intrigue– tinged with familiarity. His sleek raven mask seemed to glow from where she stood and she wondered if it was cold to the touch. With a mix of desperation and a deep-seated need to break free, Zarai raised her champagne flute in the stranger's direction, making a small circular motion with her glass. [/color][/indent][/indent]