Prompt: Masquerade

[happyfalcon]

((ooc: As always, free for anyone to tag, just beware the historical inaccuracies!))


Few things made Anne happier than dressing up. A masquerade ball at her family's castle at Hever before All Hallow's Eve was just what she had needed. Mary and her mother came from France to join the festivities, and George was finishing his own outfit in his room. Anne herself had prepared a fine blue gown and a nicer mask to match. She pinned some of her dark hair back and let it fall in waves down her back.

After she tied the mask behind her head, donned the dress and proper jewels, Anne made her way downstairs. Only a few guests had arrived, all clad in masks and laughing gaily. Anne recognized a few voices, and of course she recognized the goofy gait and teasing of her brother George. But others she didn't recognize.

Still, she enjoyed the atmosphere.

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[lovingvambrace]

Cullen arrived at the castle with his patron, the Earl of Shrewsbury, as part of his retinue. Knighted at the Battle of Guinegate, it was more recently he landed this particular honor. As little as he wished to travel from Shifnal, he was well aware that a refusal would be an insult to a man generous in his support. He didn't need a letter from his eldest sister to chide him into compliance, although she was more than happy to provide one. Her advice through the years must have been rubbing off.

He paid the earl due attention until obligation was met, and it was clear he was free to enjoy his evening as he saw fit. He circulated through the guests, enjoying the facade of being disguised behind a stylized hawk mask, feathered and severe, when he knew his height and hair gave him away to any who already knew him. The wine was better than he kept at his own table, the guests merry, and the music lively. He gave no indication he was less given to such entertainments than he seemed. His wife and babe were dead nearly six months now. Talk was beginning to circulate that it was unseemly how long he had remained unwed. He had no doubt that the source of at least some of it was his own dear, well-meaning, interfering, and often infuriating sister.

He felt more than a little ill at ease in his dark crimson cloth of gold doublet with deep blue sarcenet pulled through the slashes and matching round paned hose. His ruffs were stiff and itchy against his neck and wrists. He had to actively resist tugging at them or reaching up to scratch. It was the finest clothing he owned and not something he often wore for any reason.

When the musicians struck up a galliard form and guests quickly scrambled to find their places for the energetic dance, he was among them. He lost awareness of his discomfort. Dancing was something he genuinely enjoyed. There were several women to draw the eye. It was one in blue who drew his more than the rest.