[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/231117/4397e947d9496e89a02a516a94d678c6.png[/img][/center][hr]While it was a chore for some and an anxious obligation for others, for Maya a gathering like this was a prime opportunity. This many relevant people in one place was an almost never event - in this case, literally once in a thousand years - and she was making the most of it. It was no wonder Edmund lost track of her; while some of her contemporaries spent their evening huddled in corners or stuffing their faces, Maya spent the night dancing around the room like a butterfly on the wind, touching just down long enough to share warm pleasantries, some earnest small talk, and (if she played her cards right) a picture or two before taking off again. She spent the entire evening that way, hobnobbing with figures from royalty, government, and even a few of the Scions she hadn’t met earlier in the night. 

Erica Bachmeier, Scion Rosemary’s older sister and one of the Estoran Princes’ wives, was a doll who had warmly received her and insisted that Maya guess her baby’s gender (it was a boy); Maya’s followers would love those photos, although she’d been sworn to secrecy regarding the baby. Of course, she would obey: Maya wasn’t much for bonds of honour, but she was even less for getting on the royals’ bad side. That being said, Princess Belle of I’m-Better-Than-Yous-Burg had come over to exchange some veiled insults, the two young Scions trading disguised blows over lipsticked smiles for a few minutes before parting ways equally frustrated. Marchioness Lucienne made some wise cracks after that, something about the follies of youth, which Maya entertained only because she didn’t want her cutting clapback to be the last thing the old crone heard before she took a heart attack in the limo tonight or some other crap she’d have to hear about on the news in the morning. 

Maya had a large social appetite, but even she was starting to fade. At long last she decided to take a breather, finding an empty chair at a table and sinking gratefully into it, draping the black fur stole that had been adorning her arms around the back of her chair. She flagged down a passing servant.

[color=7041A5]“Sparkling water please, with lime if you have it,”[/color] she smiled sweetly at the man as he bowed, the universal high society sign of ‘thank you, now get out of my sight,’ and promptly turned her attention to her smartphone, fanning through the photos she’d taken so far. 

The servant didn’t return before a sudden flicker in the lights made her blink, and at first, Maya thought nothing of it. But it was followed by a second, and a third, and before Maya had the chance to wonder how Giles managed to find the only corner of Veradis backwoods enough to have power bumps, the lights went out completely. 

[color=7041A5]“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”[/color] she hissed, her expression of deep contempt illuminated by the cool glow of her phone screen. The room reflected her mood, a low and displeased murmur rising from the crowd until the sound of breaking glass turned everyone’s grumbling into screaming.  

Maya’s heart jumped into her throat, and she jumped out of her chair reflexively, wide eyes prying into the darkness as she pawed with shaking hands at her phone, trying to turn the flashlight on. For a moment, there was nothing around her but inky blackness, and all she could see were the vague shapes of figures that moved into the glow of her screen, jostling against her as they stampeded through the dark. Then, somewhere nearby a light appeared, dimly illuminating the area just in time for Maya to come face to face with a hulking masked figure lunging toward her. 

Maya screamed, ducking backwards; she kicked her chair as she did so, hoping to slow the figure’s advance, but when she turned, another blocked her path, catching her arm with a painful grip. Panic seized her; images of men with guns on the [i]Larme[/i] flashed before her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. She held her breath, hands balled into fists, and her Holy Sigil flashed over her eyelids; in an instant, her feet left the ground, and she heard a male voice yell in surprise as they all suddenly hurtled straight up. 

Maya gasped, and her eyes flew wide as she fell, managing to right herself just before she hit the ceiling. It wasn’t a good landing; she yelped as her ankle crunched painfully on impact, and again as her chair came hurtling down - up? - on top of her, missing her by mere inches and shattering into splinters beside her. 

It took a moment for Maya to get her bearings, stuck on her knees with her ankle crushed beneath her. It was darker than it was on the floor, but she had landed upright - or rather, upside-down - on the vaulted ceiling, its ornate molding forming uneven footing at least three storeys above the chaos of the ballroom. The darkened chandeliers formed a sparse forest of golden trees around her, casting misshapen shadows across the disorienting curves and of her ornate ceiling-floor. 

But she wasn’t alone. There wasn’t the collateral damage of the [i]Larme Incident[/i] this time, but she’d brought a few hitchhikers with her, the masked men chasing her down. Maya fared a bit better than her assailants: the one that caught her by the arm landed on his head and served to cushion some of her own impact, and with his neck bent at that severe of an angle, he wouldn’t be a threat any longer. The other one landed on his side, a dark mass crumpled atop one of the curves of the ceiling. At first, Maya thought she might be safe, but after a moment, he started to stir. 

Behind her, Maya whirled around to a [i]chinking[/i] noise, and saw what looked like a grappling hook latch on to a chandelier. 

A desperate shriek rang out through the darkness, audible even above the chaos of the ballroom. [color=7041A5][i]“Edmuuuund!!”[/i][/color]
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