Night's Omen

Prompt List

• Fire
• Masquerade
• Iron
• Home
• Beloved
• Dinner
• Fiend
• Card
• Trouble
• Magic

Surprisingly, attending the Masquerade ball that the guilds had thrown for New Year's had not been Amaltheia's idea; instead, Brennan could take the credit for that himself. Something that had been her idea, however, was how to properly complement her ensemble. As they entered the massive hall where the festivities were well underway, there was a low gasp as the now black Falcon (Dark Falcons, she had named them) allowed her demi-form to truly be. Massive black wings were spread only slightly at her back; her full wingspan was stupidly large, but if she folded them entirely they didn't really accomplish the goal she had in mind - which was to establish her dominance.

And establish she did.

Nobody truly knew who she was, and the hunters - they didn't know what to make of her. Only a handful of people in the crowded room even knew who or what she was, and for those individuals, it wouldn't have mattered if she wore the mask or not, because they would have recognized her even if they'd been blind. As she passed through the crowd, the air of power was thick around her, like a sudden cold snap. Brennan was at her side, every bit as sharply dressed and with his own mask, but decidedly not flaunting his power - of which he had amassed a great deal. Still, he preferred to stay in her shadow for the moment, if only because such power brought challenge, and Brennan was suddenly thrust into the role of having the upper-hand forever, which meant he could actually take pleasure in being underestimated. No, the Avian Reserve was gone, though one wouldn't have noticed immediately; he was still as calm as ever, cold and collected - but there was a sense of self now that hadn't been there before.

She smiled to her mate as he walked around her, appraising her features. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through her long, dark brown (almost black) hair, feeling the fine texture of her slightly-wavy tresses against his skin. He had managed to catch some of her colouring in his grasp, the rich purple and teal giving the impression that she had stolen a peacock's feathers to make her dye. It was simply another perk of being a Dark Falcon, Brennan had learned - they leaned more towards the exotic. "You look amazing," he said, his tone full of approval. Even the way he spoke had changed, taking on a more smooth tone - almost as though he was always on the verge of a private joke at someone else's expense.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "And you, so handsome," she purred. She paused, surveying the crowd from their vantage point just north of the main floor. They had taken the high ground, choosing to observe from above before they delved into the thrum of people - judging quietly, and deciding whether they would even stay. It didn't take much for Theia to deck herself out, so it wasn't as though they'd have wasted an entire evening in preparation. She caught the movement of someone below that she recognized, and she smiled at the dark expression the individual held before turning their attention to someone else on the floor. "And I think someone else noticed, too," she said slyly.

His brows arched; he hadn't been really focusing on anyone, but simply had been gazing over them - in a predatory sort of way, he wasn't ashamed to say. For the first time in a long time, he was truly his own man, and it felt good. "Oh?" he said, his voice curious at her announcement. "Who?" He directed his attention finally to where she pointed (she made no move to hide that she was pointing at someone, either), and made a noise of mild surprise at who she'd named.

"Dania," he muttered to himself. He glanced back at Theia, who seemed to be waiting for his reaction, and smiled as he reached out again to brush his fingers lightly through the coloured streaks that twined towards the bottom half of her hair. "Did I mention I love you as a brunette?" he asked.

"Every day," she confirmed.

"Should we go say hello?" he asked, his voice reflecting almost an amused curiosity.

"If you like," she agreed. She reached for his arm, but he nodded to the stairs, indicating for her to go ahead of him. She drew back a little, surprised, and then grinned broadly. Turning on a heel, Theia went for the top of the stairs, where the lights from the chandelier cast shadows below, and spread her wings with a stretch of her shoulders. The staircase as well as part of the room was swathed in the darkness of her figure, and she seemed to inhale the very time around them with the swell of her breast.

"Is my lady showing off?" he teased, coming to take her arm finally as she finished fluffing her wings and folded them behind her.

She turned to him, a smirk on her lips. "Why, did it look like I was?

"Of course not," he said, sarcasm and humour laced in his voice. "Come on, then, love, let's see what her royal highness has been up to, shall we?" he suggested, patting her hand lightly as they descended the stairs.

"You know she's no longer in line for the Tuuli Thea," she informed him. "She renounced her throne a few years ago."

He shrugged a little. "She'll always be some sort of Avian royalty to me," he said.

She studied him as they reached the bottom step. "Oh?" she asked, curious as to where Brennan was going with this.

"Fortunately, Falcons don't find a strong need to answer to anyone else's titles save our own," he concluded. He leaned forward, kissing her in the crowd of people, clearly having shed his reservations about public displays of affection. "Now, let us go be diplomatic and mingle," he suggested.