sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

WHERE: Corn field next to the inn
WHEN: 31 October, all day and night
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn as appropriate in your subject lines
NOTES: Please make sure you have read and understand the event details! If you have questions, drop them here. RECOMMENDED BUT NOT REQUIRED: Put your SCRUBS COLOR in your OTA subject line for folks doing bingo. Time your OTA for the harvest feast, the masquerade, or both. Costume matches and details for folks who did not get matched are here.

This morning, our intrepid villagers awoke to a surprise of the nicer kind: A bundle of clothing left at the foot of their bed, tied with a bow. There is also a note: Put on your new outfit and join the festivities in the corn field next to the inn.

You may be thinking, what corn field next to the inn? The one that sprung up fully-mature overnight, of course.

In the middle of the field, villagers will find an autumn feast: Tables piled with harvest time food and drink, warm and rustic decorations, the day's sunshine fending off any chill in the air.

Tuck in and enjoy, villagers, but take note: Things often look different in the dark, and you might be one of them.

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After a bow, he seated himself where she indicated, thankfully used to a wide belt or the sash gathered at his waist would have been an impediment. He did not, however, take down his hood. If anything, that seemed more natural to him than anything else he wore. "You are royalty, then. I am far from it. All I know from this costume is that someone enjoys weightier clothes than I, and ornaments themselves richly."

And while none of that was a lie, neither was it the entire truth. He had found some small things to hope for, but more than anything, the appearance of this clothing made him despair of the future of his order. This was not walking in shadows. This was standing in a bright sunbeam and wondering why all of your enemies knew your position.

"I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, and am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Was a queen." It was a title that had brought pride once, the achievement of a goal she had nurtured her whole life. It was enough for the Others to find some amusement in mocking her, raising the matter whenever they gifted them with novelties at these feasts. "Who would wear such a costume?" She asked, trying to determine what it was they dressed him as.

Her eyes lingered on the belt, noticing the symbol on his buckle. "What does this mean?" It wasn't a simple ornament, but signified something. It was beautiful though, what she might imagined the Dornish would be drawn to.

"How recently did you arrive?"

This was a subject around which he had to watch his step. Thankfully, it was one he had some practice avoiding. One could not walk into Akka and announce that they had come from Masyaf. "I imagine the symbol is some sort of family house as the English use, or perhaps some religious order that the man who wears these things belongs to," he said, all of it true enough that he didn't hesitate to say it as if fact. This was the colour of Masyaf. The hood of his Order. The point at the center over his face could be nothing else. And the symbol was plain. Whomever this man was, he was an Assassin. But he didn't trust this place well enough to say it aloud.

Not yet.

"I have been here only a matter of days. This is my first instance of seeing, firsthand, that the odd things here encompass more than only me."

It wasn't a sect that she would understand, even if the truth came out. There were stories about the Faceless Men, a group of assassins shrouded in mystery, but they never factored into her plans or ambitions. They were simply part of a history that rarely came into play in Westeros. "It is no sigil I have seen before. My family's is a Golden Rose, others have mermaids or lions or wolves. This is...different." It wasn't a symbol that she recognized, but perhaps she was relying on what she knew rather than what existed in other worlds.

"It's beautiful, whatever it is."

She smiled. "You will see a number of strange things. I have been here for two years."

"Two years," he repeated, slowly shaking his head. "And you've been from your home for such a long time. I can't imagine your worry over those you left behind."

His own was... blunted. Darim was capable, as was Malik the younger. His daughters-in-law, their children-- he had faith they would go on and live good lives in the places they made their own. He missed them, but they would be fine. It was as it should be, for the older to pass on and make way for the younger.

"There is no one left for me to think of." Her grandmother, perhaps. But with the loss of her entire house and family, it seemed likely that Cersei would not leave her be for long. Everything that was theirs would be seized. It still was painful to consider, no matter how much time passed and how long she had to absorb the reality of her family's future.

She smiled at him, a hidden sadness concealed behind it, but obvious for anyone who looked closely enough. "There is nothing for me to go back for. This world is my home now." However much it frustrated her, toyed with her and took those she loved.

He bowed his head in understanding, a hand over his heart. "It will be mine as well, I am afraid. I left behind my son and two daughters-by-marriage. Grandchildren. But before I came here, I was an old man and felt my heart slowing to a stop."

But the thought of her, so young, being without someone to miss. Before he realised, there was a feeling growing inside of him to make certain she would be all right. After two years here, he didn't doubt that she would be capable, and Maria had taught him the folly of assuming a woman could not take care of herself - but the sadness in her smile pulled at him.

"Yet you are so young here." It shouldn't be a surprise, given how this world revived the dead and healed their wounds. "A son? May I ask his name?" He was fortunate to have family around him. She had hopes for a son once, but that dream never came to fruition.

He was kind and respectful in a way that she knew only from her world, and even then it was sometimes a front. The nobles of King's Landing each had their own motives, quite often centered around themselves and their families.

"You remind me of my world. Hearing you speak, it sounds like someone from Dorne."

"I know not of a place called Dorne, but if they are similar to my people, I would hope I am a positive reflection." He gave her a small smile. His family - that was something he was always willing to speak of. "My eldest son was Darim. His younger brother was Sef. He lost his life, unfortunately, to a man who named himself my enemy. He has been gone for nearly forty years." But...

But.

"After Darim's birth, I wished for more children, but my wife was opposed. I believe I was more a parent than she. And as her contribution was greater, I obeyed her wishes."

"More positive than my memories of them." Her family had always had a rivalry with the Martells, but since her arrival here and the events of her first wedding, she could admire the manners of the people of Dorne and the freedom they enjoyed. It was no different than how she lived her life, though far more open. She could only afford so much while the Dornish didn't care for the opinions of others.

"I'm sorry." It must have been a painful loss, though he didn't seem to give any of his feelings away.

"Why did she not wish for more children, if I may ask?"

He smoothed the worry with a gesture, fingers splaying. "She did not want children at all when we first wed," he answered. "In fact, I doubt she even cared for me, but being my wife gave her freedoms she could not have otherwise. Our caring, I believe, came with time. And children... followed. As nature insists.

"She knew the dangers of carrying and birthing a child, and two were enough for her. And who would I be to insist?" Altaïr shook his head. "I loved her and I wanted her to be happy. So I cared for our two, loved them with all I was. As they grew older, being a parent became easier for her, as did our love."

The sort of marriage that she should have been content with in her life, but it was power she loved more and her ambition that she was truly married to. Now, looking back at it all and having actually known love, everything before seemed to be built on ash. It all crumbled in her hands, intangible and frail.

"I envy that happiness." She admitted softly, her eyes distant. It was all so overwhelming, being here and being surrounded by others. But as much as she wanted to socialize, the reminder of her past and of those she lost had proven to be too much. She needed the darkness of her rooms and the silence that waited for her there.

"I should return home."

"Sayyida-- my deepest apologies," he said quietly. "I can see my words have hurt you. Please, I would sooner leave than deprive you of an enjoyable evening."

And he suited action to word, beginning to stand up. There was much on her mind, and an evening like this - a feast, a gathering - was the sort of thing that could take one's mind off of troubles if they let it. And as it had been he that had brought painful memories to mind, perhaps it would be best if he let her be.

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[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

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