Fable (on hiatsu)

21. Midnight Masquerade

I froze, terrified by the voice behind me. My brain made the connections with maddening slowness. My two friends, the only ones who came here with me, were right before my eyes. Someone had asked me a question, behind me. We were trying to go unseen. I scrambled to think of something that would make sense.

We could say we were here for the party? That we had simply chosen to wander around the building for awhile. That... might work.

I turned around. The time between what he had said and what I was thinking was barely a second long. Then I kind of stood there, staring at the person. She had slightly translucent skin, a vague variation of blues and whites, big turquoise eyes framed by long lashes. Her body was an hourglass drapped in the soft folds of a glistening deep blue dress. Slight arms crossed over her chest, a pout on her thin lips. Her hair, black as obsidian and shimmering as if it were still wet was braided into one thick braid an slung over a shoulder. Just a bit taller than I was, the towered over all of us in her splendor. Akin to a Greek goddess.

"Plum..." I whispered, slight as a breath of wind, light as a feather, soft as the snow, heavy with love.

She turned her head ever-so slightly, her wide eyes narrowing to slits. Her fingers gripping her arms in a terrible clutch.

"Ha! I could have sworn that was Craft's voice! But my Craft wouldn't be so stupid as to venture into the school grounds on the night where the veil of the worlds is thin, would he?" Her voice dripped with venom. She was furious, but I'd known her long enough to see the worry, deep underneath.

"He normally wouldn't, I agree," I continued, as if the conversation didn't concern me. "But when he has to help someone who asked him, he has to choose between danger and saving a life, doesn't he?"

"Oh, Craft..." Plum sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead, to the ghost of a headache. "You know you can't always skip the rules. You know we can't do this. If you are discovered at the party you know what everyone will 'understand', right? And even then!"

I walked up to her an held her soft hands. Looking her in the eyes, I replied:

"What will happen will happen. I can't run forever, but I can at least help others as I run, don't you think?"

She smiled then, the smile that only the two of us have. Light, happy, sad, together. She kissed my forehead softly, a playful smile dancing on her beautiful lips.

"I agree. I'll help you three, but you have to do me a favour, Craft!" She continued lightly, leaning on my name with amusement. I smiled back at her.

"Of course, my beautiful Plum," She laughed, a high tinkle of joy at the pun in her name. Plum Bella, the beautiful plum.

We fixed up our costumes a bit, and Plum made all three of us wear black cloaks with silver masks instead of our previous attire. We were all a bit put out by that.

"This isn't a costume party, boys! It's a ball, a masked ball. Practically everyone is wearing masks and cloaks tonight." Her voice was a constant reminder of water.

After a bit of groaning, we were all ready. Then Jo asked a question. I almost glared at him. He can't speak to girls our age, but when it comes to women (though Plum looked our age) he's just fine! Sheesh!

"What is your relationship with Craft, miss?" He asked.

If I could have thrown a bowling ball at his head, I would have.

Don't just ask about someone else's relationship like that!

"I love him. He loves me." She said simply. Her voice sent hundreds of doves fluttering through my heart, making it beat a song of exaltion. Pure joy, pure love, pure freedom, pure shackles that held our hearts together. My lips drew a stupid smile on my face, wich I forgot the second she smiled back.

"Oh." A pause. "CRAFT! Why didn't you ever tell us you had a girlfriend?!" They screamed at me.

"..." I couldn’t really think up an answer that would be satisfactory. 'I didn't feel like it' seemed a bit too, harsh.

No matter the conversation, though, we continued down the stairs and eventually reached the ballroom/gymnasium. We all stood there, our mouths agape. This could hardly be mistaken for a gymnasium where we tolled endless hours jogging, playing basketball, football and so many other sports. The walls were lined with expensive-looking drapes the colour of grape juice. There were tables and tables of food and a grand expanse of space dedicated to dancing. Figures draped in all sorts of colours, all wearing masks of all sorts, walked, danced, talked, laughed in an energetic yet mysterious atmosphere.

"Wow." Was all I could think to say.

"Impressive, isn't it? We've worked all day to get it ready for tonight!" A caped figure with an exotic mask composed of tribal and symbolic shapes and designs said with pride. "Say, have we met before by chance?" He asked, leaning in to me. "I'm quite sure your voice sounds familiar!"

"I doubt it," I replied calmly, "I can't tell who is who here. How am I to know if we've met before?"

My friends were tense, alarmed (as they should be), while they watched me then proceed in making small chat with the cloaked man. As if it was nothing. My social skills were poor around fellow human beings, but they were awesome around the Spirits. It's fun to show off some hidden talents, sometimes.

"Well, if it isn't my best friend, Ren!" A familiar voice piped up behind me, just a second after the cloaked figure had walked away to talk to someone else. I turned around, a smile on my lips.

"It's been awhile, Issa-san! I haven't seen you since yesterday!" I laughed. Plum passed a hand around my neck, while leaning over my shoulder.

"Why hello, Issazawa." She drawled, "Fancy seeing you here tonight! And in such dashing clothing!" She chuckled a bit at that.

The reason why she did was easily formulated into one sentence: Gryffons don't belong in cloaks.

Issa-san's wings pushed the fabric in such a way that he appeared to have a hunchback. His longs horns, sliding from his forehead along the top of his head, caught on the hood and made the mask sit uncomfortably low on his nose. The cloak was slightly tangled into his tail and made the presentation absolutely hilarious. Though no one was brave enough to jibe directly in the face of such a powerful Gryffon, it wasn't hard to see that he attracted stares.

"I know, right? I shouldn't have worn the costume at all. I doesn't fit and it looks horrible on me." Issa-san muttered, half laughing, half upset.

"Take it off, then. If it really is so uncomfortable," I continued, slightly distracted by the smell of fresh outdoors Plum had.

"Well. That's not a bad idea, but..." He sighed again.

We were going to continue when a loud voice boomed across the ballroom. It told us to take our seats, for the grand battles were going to begin.

"The what?" Toby asked me.

"The grand battles," I repeated in a white voice, "The fights during which one spirit takes one another for the fun of it. You can't chose, either. They select the chair numbers."

"Wait, we don't have chairs. We weren't invited."

"Don't worry, no one was. The chairs you see everywhere have a number written on the back, right?"

"Oh! Right." Toby answered, glancing at every chair he could see. They were slowly being filled by people.

"Well, they select eight numbers and pit them against each other. You come here with the risk in mind." I sighed and settled into my seat, a plush velvet chair. On it's back, I memorised the number '17'. Toby's chair had '21' on it. Issa-san's '46', Plum '12' and Jo '7'.

Then, when everyone was settled. They began calling out the numbers.