fête de la masque
festival of masks

part
o2 of o2

"Dance with me."

A brunette whirled around, her earthly emerald orbs clashing against eyes as deep as the ocean. She grew inquisitive, staring at the one who had dared to ask for a dance. Her truly puzzled expression was hidden behind a mask of hardened white silk, studded with rhinestones and delicate pristine feathers. It curved just above the bridge of her nose and ended where her soft upper lip twitched into a small frown.

Olette had indeed attended the masquerade ball. Somehow, the night before, she knew it was going to end up like this. She knew, in some obscure way, that Kairi would have the very capability of persuading her to attend the party. It was the moment Kairi had shown her the dress—the very dress the redhead wanted Olette to wear to the ball. Guilt is a rather unpleasant feeling, so it was completely logical when Olette had instantly been overcome with guilt as her eyes feasted upon the lovely dress: strapless, layers of white silk just above her knees, a dainty ribbon embedded with a single diamond resting at the side of the waist.

The most feminine of feminineness had almost erupted from the brunette right then. Her girly side had made itself apparent and simply cracked. Then, she realized, that she wanted to go to the ball. So what if that idiotic moron what's-his-name would be there? He'd be in a mask. Hidden, amongst a hundred other people. They would not run into each other. But of course, those mousey spikes could not be concealed behind a mere mask… ah, she'd just have to avoid him.

Sora, on the other hand, had never really realized how much he was afraid of rope. Made of twine. Wiry twine. And when Roxas threatened him with the outrageously long and thick persuasion device, Sora knew he had no choice but to give in. Roxas had oh-so-handsomely rented a tux for his best friend, as if he knew all along that Sora would agree to attend the gala. It was a classic black, nothing too shabby or special—although Roxas had thrust a single white rose, with a shortened stem, into the breast pocket of the tuxedo. The mask Sora received from his companion was a tinted black outlined with white, the material sloping over the whole middle area of his face—the part above his eyes and lips.

When Roxas sternly reminded Sora to never reveal his identity because it was against the so-called "rules," he only earned a scornful laugh and a playful smirk. Sora replied that he wouldn't have to, that everyone would already know it was him because of his evident chocolate spikes. Roxas had immediately returned that smirk, revealing a container of hair gel he had been hiding behind his back.

In a span of three minutes, Sora's trademark gravity-defiant hair was totally slicked down.

He figured that he'd just linger around the refreshments, pouring deep cranberry liquid from the refreshment fountain, all by his lonesome self—not that he minded, or cared, because he really wouldn't have it any other way. Really. It was just him, sparkling cranberry juice, and constant trips to the guest bathroom.

Well, that lasted exactly fourteen minutes and fifty-two seconds into his time at the masquerade ball, because he had seen her. So beautiful. Her white dress, brown hair pulled up into a loose bun with stray strands brushing against her cheeks… that smile, those eyes. Those wonderfully green, green eyes. His heart had revved, skipping a beat or even two, wondering why he was feeling such a way… because he knew not what lay behind that white silken mask this fair maiden wore.

And Sora was soon disgusted at himself, having let the words "fair maiden" enter his mind.

He soon found himself approaching the girl—only three insistent words managing to tumble past his lips.

"Dance with you?" Olette echoed, stepping back once, eyeing the suitor. Why would such a charming-looking boy ask a plain girl like her to dance? Was this a trick? Her eyes narrowed, piercing against his, too deep to stare at for a lengthy matter of seconds. Perhaps it seemed too familiar. Familiar? How could it seem familiar? She was not acquainted with any males who slicked their hair down so that it framed their pleasingly tantalizing facial features…

Olette refrained from gagging. She internally slapped herself for letting the words "pleasingly tantalizing" enter her mind.

"Yeah," was the one-worded reply she received. But she wanted more, and the boy must have known she wanted more, because he continued. "Please? It wouldn't be a problem… right?"

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Olette answered with a sigh, almost smiling when the boy looked as though he never knew she'd accept, yet felt jolly well giddy that she did anyway. She placed her hand in his, the other on his warm shoulder. She felt heat rise to her cheeks as his fingers met her waist, lacing over the ribbon that was placed there.

As if strangely on cue, a new melody began to play in the background… something like the celestial humming of angels, or the gentle cries of a lark, a nightingale. It was appealing to their ears, reminding them of a night blanketed with sizzling stars, the reflection of the full creamy moon mirrored against the shifting sea, and the soft loving lullaby a mother would sing to her dozing newborn baby, rocking back and forth on its swift cradle.

They never took their eyes off each other.

Familiar… so familiar… you seem like someone I know…

Who are you? I feel like I've seen you before…

I feel like I know you.

I feel like you know me.

Her chin was tilted upward, in order to comfortably gaze at her dancing partner. He was smiling. And so, she could not help but return the smile. At once, she knew, that she had never smiled in such a way before. At least, not in a long while. Very few people had the capability of being able to make Olette smile in that manner, but this boy had completely managed it. This boy, who she had just met a simple hour ago.

We've already been dancing for an hour?

Somehow, after all the graceful steps, turns, sweeps and twirls, they ended up outside—where a bubbling fountain sprung crystalline arches of diamond-glitter water into the cold night air. The cobblestone ground was bordered with a trail of fresh, dew-kissed flowers, bobbing their pretty heads up and down in the midnight breeze.

"I wish I knew your name," Sora suddenly whispered, looking down at his lovely dancing companion. Because as far as he was concerned, he was the luckiest guy in the world, getting to dance with someone as sweet yet snappy as her. During their countless minutes of dancing, they had exchanged words—and they knew, there was a bond. Somehow. Something, something was just there.

Maybe coming to the ball wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"Too bad we can't properly introduce ourselves," Olette replied, grinning weakly.

"Who says we can't?"

"Naminé, of course. She made up the rules."

"Right…"

Their dancing slowed to a halt, and they collapsed to the stone edge that rounded the whimsical fountain. Sora leaned back a bit, careful not to wet his tux from the springing waters. His eyes shifted toward the sky, the black sky. Not many stars were out tonight. But the moon was resident, a blinding fingernail hanging in an almost non-existent cloud. It looked like midnight. It sounded like midnight, with the lazy song of the crickets, the whispering winds of a night so light yet so deep. It felt like midnight—stuck in a mesmerizing dream, a dream in which you were having the time of your life sashaying across a marble floor with someone you barely knew—someone with an identity so faint, but so strongly familiar.

I wish I knew your name.

"How do you know if you're in love?" Sora asked, still staring at the sky, the question falling from his mouth like a carefree feather. He said it like it was something simple, something plain. Something as simple as asking for the time, or what was for dessert.

Olette was rather taken aback, but appeared unfazed. She gave a small shrug of her slender shoulders, eyeing the slivered moon above them. "I guess you sort of… feel it. It just happens." She paused, casting her gaze downwards. "Well, I wouldn't know, really."

"Really, now…" Sora murmured, his eyes lowering a bit and swerving to meet the brunette's. "Can things like love just happen?"

"It's like breathing."

"Breathing?" Sora echoed, his voice growing softer. Once more, earthly emerald clashed against oceanic sapphire. But this time the vibrant colors locked… breathing… growing closer… breathing… faces inching toward each other… breathing… masks touching… breathing… his soft lips brushing against her tender cheek…

Breathe, Olette!

But when Sora's lips traveled across her face and finally found her mouth, she melted in his arms and forgot about breathing at all.

I need to know who you are.

They slowly pulled away, and Olette felt her heart thump violently in her chest as the boy reached forward, his fingers taking a light grasp of the corners of her mask. As if they had made a silent agreement, she did the same with his, lifting her hands and holding the edge of his mask, ready to pull down and reveal the face of whom she was dancing with all along… the face she had just kissed…

I need to see your face.

"One…"

Familiar…

"Two…"

Who are you?

"Three."

Oh, my god.

Two masks, white and black, clattered to the ground. Faces revealed. Emerald and sapphire widened in pure shock… toppling over the edge of supreme bewilderment. His face, her face—reflected and illuminated by what was left of the moon… it couldn't be. How could a face one had so longed for, be the face that one had loathed since kindergarten? How could they not have noticed? How could they not have known, that for majority of the party… they were dancing with… the enemy?

It was you all along.

Olette pushed herself up to her feet, feeling herself tremble. A gasp was stuck in her throat, remaining within her mouth. No sound came. She backed away, almost stumbling against the grout of the cobblestone. She averted her gaze from the deep liquid azure… shaking her head, feeling like she was going to be sick…

Why did it have to be you?

"But you hate me," Olette whispered.

Sora remained sitting against the fountain, his lips marginally parted. His eyes were fairly large at the sight—this was Olette. This was the girl that had always bothered him. Taunted him. Mocked him. She always ridiculed him, cursed him, badgered him. How could she be the same girl that he was dancing with ten minutes ago? How could she be the one he wanted to kiss?

"No," was Sora's softened reply. "You hate me."

Olette did not allow her eyes to well up with tears. She knew better than that. She knew how to stay strong, and she knew how to hold herself up without crumbling in despair. This was the boy she had always found irritating, not smart enough, too idiotic for words. Too idiotic to really comprehend things… but how could he comprehend love? How was he able to make her smile in such a way, and laugh in such a way… that no one had ever made her before? Why couldn't anything make sense nowadays?

It doesn't make any sense.

She couldn't just stand there. She had to do something. Turn around. Leave. Never face him again. Forget the dance. Forget their talk of affection. Forget the kiss. Forget his existence, forget his whole being, forget the hate… forget the love… rid her mind and memory of all the words they had exchanged.

Those wonderful words.

Olette swallowed hard, with much difficulty. She shook her head at Sora once more, turning around to leave. Why him? She bit her lip, wondering why she was hesitant to begin storming off. That was her intention. To storm off. But she wasn't. She was standing there, her back facing him. They weren't supposed to be together. They weren't supposed to be dancing together, or laughing together, or smiling together… much less kissing each other.

It just doesn't seem right.

Olette looked down, nodding once to herself, and began walking toward the French doors leading to the confines of Naminé's mansion. I can't be with you. But she was cut short after merely two steps, for someone from behind took hold of her wrist—refusing to let go. Refusing to let her walk away.

Refusing to lose her.

Startled, Olette slowly turned around to face Sora. There was a trace of a smile on his face. The same beginning of a smile that made her smile as well. Because she couldn't help it. Because there was just something there. Something important, something strong. Something that made the hateful feelings evaporate. Something that a mask, which normally hid things, helped reveal.

Breathe.

"Dance with me."

end of part o2.

fin.

and still for my darling mucky.