In a kingdom as large as the Silver Millennium, it is a rare event to have a holiday recognized across the system. Yet it is even rarer still for one to be openly celebrated.
But, once a year, the galaxy comes together in celebration of The New Hope, The Celestial Princess, and the future Queen of the Silver Millennium. And this year is a celebration like none seen since her birth. For this year marks her eighteenth, and her introduction to society.
In celebration of this monumental event, festivities are being held across the cosmos to honor her first truly public appearance. Ceasefires have been called and rebellions have been put on hold to honor the unity of the Solar System, and peace shall reign for an entire Lunar cycle.
And while the entire system celebrates the Princess’ final coming-of-age, it centers around one single event. Of the lavish parties held in the Lunar Palace, only on the day of the Princess’ birth is the grand masquerade held, a gala of such decadence that none like it has ever been witnessed in the cosmos. It matters not who you are or where you come from, only that you celebrate peace and hope for the future. And to welcome the princess into a world that deserves her, of course
Finally, here is the released preview of our first event! We will be opening the site with Princess Serenity’s eighteenth birthday. The event will last an entire month, giving your characters a chance to be places they shouldn’t be and to give you all a lighthearted start to the game. The masquerade, however, will only last a week in real time, (meaning you can only make masquerade threads during this week, but you can keep them going for however long until the thread is finished), and will be started when we have enough characters to maintain the event.
For someone in a job so dedicated to protocol, Ariadne wasn’t really sure what it was in a situation like this. No, scratchthat, she knew exactly what to do with missing persons. Missing children. That was displayed very clearly to her, in lines of text on paper, like little soldiers lined up neatly in a row. But things were scattered now, not so neatly — and though Ariadne Guzman has always been erratic, this was out of the realm of leaving dishes in the sink for just one more day, or knowing you didn’t really have to dust the top part of the window frame, just the sill. This was a different beast entirely, and perhaps she had to ignore the metaphor of neat versus scattered, and instead look at it through an emotional view. Which … was hardly an issue for her. She felt hard, always, no matter the situation.
So if it wasn’t erratic, it was empathetic. It was heart-warming in heart-breaking circumstances, to see the turnout of the manhunt. She hated that word. Hunt made them sound like predator, and man … man wasn’t apt. He was a boy, a little boy, and that made it so much worse. She wondered what books he liked, what toys, if kids his age even played with them anymore. Babies she could handle, with gentle coos and bouncing, and teenagers were essentially miniature adults. It’s when things blurred in the middle that they were more confusing. But … there’s a reminder as the tip of her boot scrapes through dead leaves that she’s not shopping for a birthday present. Do his interests matter, now? Will the color of the blanket they give him at the station when — yes, WHEN, she’s speaking into existence — matter? It doesn’t matter if he prefers the Ninja Turtles or the Power Rangers, and the thought of pondering it drifted off in the breeze as it shook the tree branches, and she hears a voice behind her.
Name to face, that’s all she can place, because truthfully — she doesn’t know much of anything about her. Mandy Silverman. Of course, the surname rings more bells than she’d like to bring up in polite conversation. What the fuck was she supposed to say? Hi, I’m Ariadne, your dead dad made me choose my career. Coke or Pepsi? A little insensitive, for lack of a more intense term. Don’t say something stupid, don’t try and comfort. This is Brian, not Phillip. “ No, actually, I … think people see the badge or something and think I’ve got it under control. ” A pause. “ I do, but company is always nice.”
Once, Mandy would have seen that golden badge and made a beeline for it. She trusted the police - of course she did. Charlie had been a close family friend; and she and Jenny swore when they were nine years old that they were long-lost sisters. But that was before Pete, and her dad, and the whole mess that ‘84 turned out to be. Most of the time she felt like she’d had enough of the police to last a lifetime, if not a few lifetimes. She’d never get back the hours spent in the interview room down at the station, kicking her white sneakers against the chair legs, watching a moth batter itself in the fluorescent light. Endless cups of burnt-tasting coffee. Just a little while longer, okay, honey? And each time the door opened onto the hallway, a poster of Pete was in her direct line of sight.
Mandy realised she’d been quiet for a beat too long, and hastily shot the woman a smile. Guilt ebbed in her throat. All of that had been before this woman’s time. She might have seen it on television, but she wasn’t here, she didn’t make those mistakes. She was absolved of the sins of the place. The least Mandy could do was be nice.
The undertone of playfulness in – it was Guzman, wasn’t it? Or something like that? – her tone broadened Mandy’s smile, and she ducked her gaze, embarrassed.
“Yeah, I guess,” she answered, watching a leaf skitter over the toe of her boots. “I wouldn’t know. Good turnout, though.” At length, Mandy made eye contact, and smiled again, the action small. “Cool. Thanks. I was going to go by myself, but two heads are better than one. Figured I’d up my chances hanging around a cop.”
Mandy caught herself. “Shit. That came out… really morbid.”
Harsh October air whipped at Ken’s face, the biting cold causing him to yank up the sweater Aisha had bought him last Christmas. It was an itchy, beast of a thing, an awful shade of yellow, but just wearing it made Ken feel safer somehow. It made him feel like Aisha was watching over him, and Lord knows he needed all the help he could get today.
The man had been up since dawn, organizing groups and setting the search parameters. Even though the search wasn’t officially beginning until 2pm, Ken had been hard at work doing everything he could to give them the best chances. The alternative was too terrible to entertain. This wasn’t the same. Brian wasn’t Pete. Max was in prison, and Philip was long gone. This was a terrible incident, but it wasn’t the same.
It couldn’t be.
A strong gust of wind had the burly man shrugging further into his coat as he looked out at his community. Forlorn faces, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. This wasn’t how any of them wanted to spend a Saturday. It wasn’t how any of them wanted to spend any day, out in the woods, searching for a lost boy among the ghostly whispers of a Devil returning to finish what he started all those years ago. Ken could tell the ghosts of the past were tapping on everyone’s shoulders, even those who were too young to really know the intricacies of what happened all those years ago.
Taking a moment away from expectant faces, Ken turned towards the hot coffee station Aisha had help set up. He pulled out his thermos, worn from so many family camping trips, events full of so much more laughter and happiness than today. He’d been so scattered lately, he hadn’t even seen the person waiting patiently to fill up on caffeine and warmth.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to jump ahead of ya,” Ken muttered, sidestepping his neighbor, gesturing for them to go ahead and fill up.
“Ken!”
She sounded too loud, too surprised. Mandy stared at him for a moment before looking at the table stacked with neat disposable cups, little bowls of sugar or milk. The crowd jostled then started moving forward, and Mandy glanced behind her before taking a few steps sideways. She chanced another look, then flushed when their eyes met.
Ken. She remembered when he was just Mister Hawker. When she, Jenny, and Mary would stay up having sleepovers, giggling and whispering, and he’d inevitably haul himself out of the La-Z-Boy to grumbled at them about peace and quiet. Afternoons spent at their kitchen table, her and Mary skiving off science homework and stealing Aisha’s cookies. Ken driving her, occasionally, to cheer practice, if her dad was working late. Family barbecues. Christmas lunch. Ken.
Mandy didn’t know why she was being so nostalgic. It wasn’t as if they barely saw each other. Ken remained a fixture in her life, because Mary was a fixture in hers. They had to drop by Mary’s parents’ place quite a bit, just to pick up a light globe or some old recipe book of Aisha’s. Mandy, loitering in the doorway, trading banter with Ken as he made a pot of coffee or wrangled Joshua into a sweater. She had known Ken her whole life.
This felt different. And she knew why.
“No, that’s okay.” Mandy didn’t really drink coffee. She was hoping there was some kind of herbal tea or something, but the chances weren’t good. She gestured with one elbow, her hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her parka. “Do you want to go ahead of me? I’m killing time waiting for Mary. I can’t find her anywhere.”
TIME:2:30PM DATE: Saturday, 12th October 1996 OPEN TO: Anyone!
The forest.
Mandy could count on one hand how many times she had gone near the forest in the past decade, and driving past counted. In the brisk October chill the woodland seemed to loom, as if the trees were some distant Middle Earth variety. A gust of wind made her frown and pull the hand-knitted muffler over her lower mouth. Did Brian like Tolkien? Maybe it was too outdated for kids these days; she wouldn’t know. Her only contact with kids was Pete, and he’d throw her a withering look if she even tried saying something along those lines. He was eighteen now. It was hard to believe. The very thought made her chest ache, first for Pete, then for Brian. Eight years old. Dear God.
Residual anger flushed through her, and she had to close her eyes tightly for a moment to calm herself. After exhaling slowly, she tucked some hair behind one ear and surveyed the gathering crowd. Most of Devil’s Knot had turned out for the event, looking alternately hopeful or pinched with cold, clutching torches or thermoses, talking avidly to one another. Sheriff Malvo was supposed to set them all off, as if they were a Sunday walking club, but Mandy was inclined to simply start alone. Small talk felt insurmountable, suddenly, and it crested upon a swell of helplessness that made her want to cry.
Pull it together. The voice sounded awfully like Sandy, and for a moment Mandy caught a glimpse of a blonde head as the crowd parted. It wouldn’t surprise her if Sandy turned up; if there was one thing that made Sandy reliable, it was her unerring obsession with other people’s business.
Thinking about Sandy always made her feel composed in comparison. Adjusting her muffler one last time, Mandy put her hands in the pockets of her over-sized parka and started weaving through the crowd. People parted for her, but not without some glances of pity. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Mandy walked up to a person standing on the fringe of a group. Small talk might suck, but it was necessary. Today wasn’t about her, after all.
“Hey.” Mandy’s voice was whipped away by the wind; she extricated one gloved hand and gently waved it to get their attention. “Hi. Um. Are you walking with anyone?”
