The foyer is full of revelers, some drunk with spirits, and others drunk with excitement, life, and joy. The gossiping ladies of society are out in full force tonight, catching up on the latest juicy tidbits and always on the lookout for sources for new gossip news.
"Did you hear?" Said a masked man to his dancing partner.
"Hear what?" She answers.
A man with a devil's horned mask interjects, "Did you hear? The new Comte de Guirre! He is to attend tonight!"
In the corners the ladies whisper to each other behind fancy fans while waiting for a partner to choose them to dance. "Did you hear that the Comte de Guirre is to be attending, or at least appear at this ball to-night?"
"Oh really?" Said one of the younger women, barely out of her teens. "Do you think so? Is he handsome? Do you think he would dance with me?"
Another lady, dressed as a fairy, laughs. "You know what I heard," she asks. Someone in the group asks her what she heard. "I heard," she continues. "I heard the Comte is not a man, but rather a woman! A comtess…"
Rumors like that were flying through the gathered crowd. I had slipped in, unnoticed, hiding in the shadows and hidden passageways that my soul knows so well. I am Death, known and feared by all. I am the Grim Reaper, the cursed and horrible creature, come to bring death and destruction to the human race.
"Master," a shadow in a feathered mask queries. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, Maria. Although you do not need to call me master."