Disclaimer: I don't own DNAngel.
"M. le Comte de Hikari."
From the first landing of the grand staircase descended the ever-so-elegant Hikari count, robed in the finest and whitest silks Paris could offer him. About his shoulders swept the golden locks that many Parisian dames could all but swoon over. The remainder of the tresses were pulled up in a high ponytail, the ends of which brushing lightly and daintily against his calves as he reached the final step of the staircase.
He bowed his head to the crowd before him, and through the holes of his white mask they could see his golden eyes panning their entirety. The coup d'oiel ended only when he caught sight of and locked onto a dark figure in the back of the crowd, smiling behind his disguise. But the count remained in his place, waiting for the nomenclator to make his next call.
"M. le Vicomte de Hikari."
From the top of the staircase came another figure; smaller, shorter, and younger than the first. The viscount reached the final step after his dignified trip down the stairs, and, as his brother had before him, bowed to the awaiting guest. The color of his tastes, mask, and even hair had before earned him the name of 'Monsieur Watchet.' As soon as he finished the gesture, the ever-effeminate count beside him began walking towards the back of the Hall, not waiting for the applause of their arrival to subside.
The evangelistic blonde left the viscount to fend for himself against the onslaught of an audience and a ball simultaneously. He himself neared the dark figure of whom he had previously spotted - of whom the public thought to be an acquaintance, and the pair knew to be a lover.
"Monsieur, I was hardly expecting to see you here, I understand charity was never one of your foremost priorities. Nevertheless, it is a…pleasure to see you." The count began.
"Why, you do not know so much about me after all!" said his companion with mock disbelief. "I have come here solely for your sake, and your sake only. Does that itself not count as charity?"
"How correct you are my friend; perhaps I am truly mistaken. Forgive my hasty judgment."
"Oh, you are quite forgivable, don't fret over it," the taller man replied behind his dark mask. "Quite forgivable."
AN: To minimize the number of people asking 'So…who he talking to?' go back and how many times I use the descriptive 'd…' word. Oh, and if my French is wrong, please correct me (Hell, I live in America and am taking German 1, I did my best as far as the French goes.)