Standing on the Edge

T

he festivities persisted as the time seemed to fly by for young Willow. In all of her almost-year of life, she had never experienced anything quite like, or even close! It was the most spectacular, beautiful, crowded event she had ever been so lucky to attend. Then again, the girl could not quite shake the idea that something was amiss, though she could not quite pinpoint what it was… something in the air, or the way she felt among so many fancy wolves with whom she shared seemingly nothing in common. The tri-color femme was now observing from the outskirts of the invited crowd. So different from her own life...


There was trouble brewing amongst the party-goers though, ready to create chaos in the midst of a celebration for the sake of a cause Willow had no context for in her youth and ignorance. Theirs was a world and a motivation far beyond what Willow could grasp, at least up until this illuminating evening of political descent. She knew that there were officials here and royalty, though she had avoided anyone close to that. Instead, she was glancing around at the obscured faces of all the strangers, vivid grass green eyes curious about the wolves hiding beneath their costume masks. What was it like to be them?


Her own delicate features were masked in a flurry of yellow and oranges meant to resemble the sun that was so absent during these wintry months. Already, Willow looked forward to the spring, even in the midst of a winter celebration. Her muzzle remained in plain sight, and the girl wore a big smile.


@Ismailia

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Juniper, though modest and would never admit to it, was quite the artist, earning a ticket to the masquerade ball with one of her pieces. She had drawn a fae, and the nobles were impressed enough to gift her a ticket. She was so pleased with her work, though the praise she received made her blush, a few pennies of confidence tinkling into her hypothetical jar.

She felt out of place, among the grand decorations, the sheer number of people who arrived at the winter festivities. In some part, she was glad of the mask she had crafted from the bark of a tree, colored like that of a butterfly’s wings, enhanced with winter holly and leaves.

At least, she was here with her friend, Willow, who seemed equally mesmerized by the lavishness of it all, but a lot more self-assured. Juniper would have to rely on her.

Nevertheless, there was a blistering uncertainty in the air, the harbinger of chaos, a rift of argument, to come. “Do you feel that?” Juniper asked Willow, leaning toward her to whisper in her ear. “Something doesn’t feel right. Are you sure we should even be here?” She had learned to trust her instincts, and right now, her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

@Willow @Ismailia

manip + code: clae

And I'll Meet You There,
Beyond the Pines

Adorned in a fiery mask, Meala skirted the main hall of the Winter Ball in a effortless glide with a curiosity that could never've been satisfied, the beating in her chest almost rhythmically keeping up with the couples that spun out on the dance floor. It was only by some rare luck that she had been here, something so far away from the forests of the fair folk and the hardened fields of the highlands.

Foods for as much one could eat, music, and chances to interact with others that one may have never before. Regardless of whom hosted such venues, celebrations were things that told a lot without words, and despite her reluctance to enter back into the political scene, she couldn't help but feel her mind turning the rusted wheel when she heard of the discord beginning with the factions.

It almost made her laugh, an odd sensation of familiarity digging itself from the bowels of the unknown, presenting itself to her for her entertainment. Her oldest observation as she stood among dying old men on the battlefield was true even here: No one could be happy so long as someone stood in opposition. Fighting, wars, battles, such things were her slumbering songs when she was still a wee bairn, and it almost brought about a sense of nostalgia finding it amidst such festivities. Chaos reigned in the shadows while others beneath the King's sight hid behind masks. She was rather glad she came.

Turning her head slightly, she noticed a couple of children on their own, and her smile widened. "Hulo. Ar ye enjoyin' yoursels?"

@Willow @Juniper

template by bean

S

he looked to Juniper, whose bright verdant gaze stood out against her mask, with confusion written across her pale features, eyebrows knitting with concern for her friend. ”Feel what?” The sunshine-clad youth looked well enough, by Willow’s estimation, and so the Lowlander girl giggled, thinking herself rather clever as she responded: ”I can feel… the music! Can’t you, Juni?”


She thought to ask Juniper to dance, but, upon realizing that she had not the faintest idea how to dance, Willow became shyer, falling quiet again. She considered Juniper’s second question for a moment or two before she shrugged her shoulders. ”I mean, why should we not be here? If they get to be here, all of them, then why not us?”



A grown-up addressed them in an unusual accent, her smile visible while the rest of her face was half hidden by a mask that was as vibrant and fiery as what Willow had hoped to accomplish with her own. Willow smiled brightly in her innocence and ignorance of what was about the transpire around them, and she nodded so excitedly that her sun mask nearly flew off of her delicate features. ”Oh, yes, very much so, thank you!” Then, she chirped to the stranger above the noise of the crowd, ”I like your mask!”



@Juniper @Meala

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

She could not dictate the reasons for this feeling, this nudge at her heart, this intuition that required no explanation. She only knew to trust her instincts, for they had not failed her in the past. It was wise to be more aware and less trusting than to note—she learned this, not only from her own experience, but from the wisdom of her sisters.

“W-well, the music is lovely,” Juniper started, always the one for politeness—but no matter the atmosphere, the dancers, the compositions, she still felt a tug of anxiety that seemed to gnaw at her soul. “I don’t know. I suppose I just have a bad feeling. That’s all. It’s probably nothing, though.” She gave her friend a small smile, hoping that she could lighten up a bit—Juniper was never the optimistic one, not when her feelings began to surface.

Then, an adult appeared, this one with a beautiful mask of her own. “O-oh, hello,” she said. “I think everything is so pretty; we’ve never been to a ball like this before. Do you come here every year?” Juniper did not mean to insinuate that this lady was old—she looked quite young with her fiery pelt and orange eyes. They reminded her of the sunset.

@Willow @Meala

manip + code: clae