If I'm ever invited then I'll be delighted to take you to the fairy tale ball....
Dawn breaks through the windows of the crystal ballroom as a woman in a storm-gray mask and gray silks mounts the stairs and turns to face the crowd. Silence falls as she spreads her hands.
"And so, my comrades, our Gala ends."
The masks drop from their wearers' faces and disappear, leaving some people standing beside those they expected - and some standing beside strangers. Tempest's own mask vanishes with the rest, leaving her looking tired and a little relieved. She smiles.
"Another year gone and none of us older in anything but spirit. May that never change, friends - may we live long and as happily as fate allows." She pauses, scanning the crowd a moment before going on. "I now extend to all the customary farewell - and the customary invitation to those with no safe place to return to. Stay. My home is yours. The Wood is wide and dangerous, unpredictable and wild. This place is not without its faults, perhaps, but it serves well enough as a home; stay, and I swear to you on my honor and power, you will be protected."
Tempest bows. "In your rooms, the cats are waiting. Only ask, and they will return you to the places from which you came."
With that, she's gone. There's no production, no flourishes - she's simply vanished, the doors to the atrium stand open again, and the Gala-goers have a choice to make.
"And so, my comrades, our Gala ends."
The masks drop from their wearers' faces and disappear, leaving some people standing beside those they expected - and some standing beside strangers. Tempest's own mask vanishes with the rest, leaving her looking tired and a little relieved. She smiles.
"Another year gone and none of us older in anything but spirit. May that never change, friends - may we live long and as happily as fate allows." She pauses, scanning the crowd a moment before going on. "I now extend to all the customary farewell - and the customary invitation to those with no safe place to return to. Stay. My home is yours. The Wood is wide and dangerous, unpredictable and wild. This place is not without its faults, perhaps, but it serves well enough as a home; stay, and I swear to you on my honor and power, you will be protected."
Tempest bows. "In your rooms, the cats are waiting. Only ask, and they will return you to the places from which you came."
With that, she's gone. There's no production, no flourishes - she's simply vanished, the doors to the atrium stand open again, and the Gala-goers have a choice to make.