A moment of lucidity, Izira?s thoughts boiled under the surface of true consciousness in her mind. She wore a gown of black and white about her form. The skirt was long, but kept close. The body of it fitted to her form. Her mask covered the bridge of her nose and that which was above?in a mixture of black, white and reflective metallic. Topped with black feathers that fell back to rest against auburn hair. Footsteps carrying her up the stairs towards the Masquerade Ball. Music floated out to greet her, eyes alighting on many others in fine dresses and masks. She had to wonder if it was a dream? and if so, how soon would it turn into a nightmare?

Cautiously she moved from the entrance, finding a spot against the wall and half contained in shadow to lingering. Feeling her heart racing, a white gloved hand was placed over her chest as her eyes once again scanned the room. As one masked man offered a toast to the room, Izira snagged a flute of champagne off a passing tray speaking a muted ?cheers? to herself before drinking.

Hiding, quietly drinking from the flute, Izira watched the dancing longingly. It was a simple thing she hadn?t gotten to do in a while. Nearly forever, the thought slipped through as she drained her flute and set the empty thing upon another passing tray. It was then that she caught sight of Alain, masked and at the bar. Or so she thought it might be him, though this man carried himself with a cane, her eyes dragging away with doubt.

The ballroom was awash with many colors, from bright to dark. Voices and music filled the Great Hall. While she watched and existed on the edge of her living dream the man she had seen at the bar was suddenly beside her. Lost to her thoughts, Izira hadn?t seen during the moment he stood there before speaking.

"And who might you be?"

She didn?t jump. It was a dream, she figured, turning towards the man. Even masked, it was him. Alain was the steady rock in the flow of her mind that she felt herself slowly drowning in. But her reply came in a soft sad tone, ?I am.? Then she smiled to him.

"Then I will have to refer to you as 'm'lady',? he smiled and bowed his head to her, "Tonight, I'm going by Gumshoe."

"Lovely. Gumshoe. You hurt yourself?" Her lips creasing with concern as she looked down towards the cane. Beneath the form of her dress she was hiding various cuts and bruises herself, but for the time being they did not bother her now.

"Thursday evening, an old friend wanted to dance." He sipped his champagne before continuing, "I'll recover."

"That is good to know." she nodded to him. And truly it was for Alain had been one of the few people she could speak to? aside from the fact that she carried a kindling flame for him in her heart. She noticed a woman with blue hair looking in their direction, and further noted the two flutes that Alain carried. "Please, do not let me keep you from your company."

"I've made my decision. I'll come see you at the Forgotten Layers as soon as I'm feeling a little more... Well. Mobile." He bowed his head to her saying, "Good evening to you, m'lady.?

A nod in return, "Good eve, Gumshoe. Until I see you next."

Then watching him a moment as he made his way back, Izira?s attention slipped towards the woman who awaited his return. The woman offered her a wave, perhaps to say there were no hard feelings for the time Alain had been away. Izira waved back to say she understood. She wasn?t sure that she did, but it would be better to pretend.

Another look around, and she could no long spot Alain between them. A sudden worry brought the heat to her face. The colors and sounds of the party blended together. Becoming dizzy and confused, Izira retreated into a dark private room to try to steady her mind.

Again?she started to sink.