13 Mar. 13 – 4:57 PM
Just cranking these out. Meds keeping me subdued…
9th: Masquerade
Fic or art must focus on the characters in 'costume' of some sort. It can be a literal masquerade, a costume party, a disguise, an AU, etc. You're welcome to write fic or do art about 'canon' costumes as well- i.e. Spadesverse.
Rating: G
Note: A poem, Human AU, America's POV
Appearances
I saw on the ballroom stair
Ne'er did I expect to see you
For I had come with a partner
But I only had sights for you
My mask secure, I left my own
She wandered, not caring at all
Her entertainment she sought alone
All for appearances at the ball
I wandered close to your group
A slinking child of nineteen
Your laugh was loud and haughty
Repeat it please, for I'm keen
To hear your voice as you speak
Of writers you adore, your grievances
At the lack of respect people hold
To these long dead authors' appearances
"Yes," you say, "Listen to Frost and Poe,
"But Byron, Chaucer, Dante, Shakespeare;
"What lessons can we learn from them?
"It doesn't matter if they're no longer here?"
"Like Hemingway and Fitzgerald?" I chime
My heart pounds in my ribs, a falling mallet
You spy me, my masked face, and I sigh
For that silly appearance hid my flushed pallet
"Yes, like those two," you agree and smile
Only your eyes I see, and I see volumes in them
Dreams and hopes that I'd scarce imagine
You come close to me, my attention to you lent
"Usually, people come for appearances,"
You speak of spite, but with intrigue
"Why did you come?" you ask me
I swallow and ask you to dance in mystique
"You came to dance with me?" you chortle softly
Taking my hand in yours, you lead me
I trip over my feet and too-large shoes
Yet you smile and pull me closely against thee
We talk of authors and stories and art
Of the things that fill us with passion and life
"I came to hold appearances," I say,
"But also to escape the everyday man's strife."
Your eyes – green, I see, like the foam of the sea –
Look into my own with a sense of awe
I cannot hold a candle to why, but I pause
Still spinning on the floor, quite locked, my jaw
You raise a hand to my face and smile fondly
"I did as well, but I did the same as you, too."
We stop spinning and your lips come close to mine…
"I feel this appearance is the real me, in front of you…"
This is you? The being you hide when critics come?
But you are intelligent and witty, I reply
"Only if I am not upstaging," you gripe lightly, a pout
You lead me away from the floor, eyes alive
Away from the ballroom, from the strife of man
And the upper class, those who pretend and dream
You whisper as we dance in the moon's gaze
"I feel like I don't have to keep up appearances…"
"You will never have to with me."