The Magicians' Realm Chapter 3: The Masquerade Ball, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 3, everybody! In which we finally arrive at the Masquerade Ball—after dealing with day jobs, of course. :) And yes, that's a real superstition—if you learn something on Friday, you get a wrinkle. *~*

I should have probably mentioned this earlier, but this story does have some art done for it—just head to my profile page and follow the DeviantArt link: you'll be able to find my gallery from there (Magicians' Realm art is in the Yu-Gi-Oh! folder under "YGO-TMR"). :)

ManaDMGmaster, thanks for the reviews! Glad you like the story thus far, and I hope to continue to please! :D

References:

Friday morning, and Anzu was positioned in front of her mirror, posing.

She had to get to the library, but Monique had told her to try the dress on in the morning, so if there was anything that needed to be altered or fixed, she would have time to do so. Anzu doubted it; Monique was an excellent seamstress.

The dress was beautiful: a pale pink with white trim, and pale yellow lace. There was a blue ribbon belt and blue laces going up the front, and her pale pink domino mask had trim in the same blue.

Anzu sighed and wished her friend was paid more—three years of work in addition to being the best worker Bespoke Tailors had, and she still was paid a pittance.

But her excitement wouldn't allow her to be down for long; she grinned madly as she took the dress off and changed into a blouse and trousers. She was going to the Masquerade Ball, a venue populated entirely by magicians and others in seats of power. Not that she wanted power; she'd rather meet someone who'd deign to teach her a little magic.

She practically skipped as she went to work. She—a lowly librarian's assistant—had been asked to the Masquerade Ball! By a verifiable magician, no less!

She had spent all of last night and most of the morning smoothing out her impression of Yami. His sweeping arrogance that had been her first impression was actually confidence; he really did care for his brother, he was just joking about getting rid of him (Anzu, being an only child, had no idea how siblings acted towards each other); he was pleasant; he was nice; she was going to enjoy his company.

Whether or not all this was true or not, Anzu wasn't sure, but for one night at least, she was going to pretend that it was so.

"Anzu, dear, are you all right?"

Anzu looked up from her book-stamping to her superior, the librarian Miss Binder.

Miss Binder was a round little lady with round little spectacles and a fox-fur wrap. She was kindly, at least, and she reminded Anzu very much of a matronly snowy owl.

"What makes you think that something's wrong, Miss Binder?" Anzu asked.

"Well, dear, this makes the third time that you've stamped your hand instead of the book."

Anzu looked down to find that Miss Binder was right: she had a now-blurry circle of ink stamped on her hand—she could still read Delvaire Public Library in the stamp.

Anzu blushed and started rubbing her hand, silently glad that she was wearing gloves tonight. Miss Binder offered one of her many handkerchiefs to Anzu; she accepted it and started rubbing again.

"Now, what's on your mind, dearie?" Miss Binder asked.

It was always dear or dearie with Miss Binder. "I was thinking about the Masquerade Ball tonight," she said.

"Ah, yes, it's a wonderful thing," Miss Binder sighed. "I went once when I was younger. I was a little slip of a thing then." She beamed down at Anzu. "Maybe you'll get to go someday."

"I think that 'someday' is tonight. Look!" Anzu fished out the gold ticket and showed her.

"Oh!" Miss Binder took it and examined it. "You lucky young lady!"

Anzu couldn't help but grin. "Aren't I?"

"You certainly are." Miss Binder held the ticket up to the light and turned it slightly. "Ah, there we go. There's the spark. I wasn't sure if it was real or not," Miss Binder said as she handed the ticket back to Anzu. "When I went, the tickets were silver."

"Maybe they changed it over the years," Anzu said, looking at the ticket now that she held it. It was a shiny gold color with cream borders. An elegant 1 was in the center, with the event and location on one side and the date and time on the other.

"What were you checking for?" Anzu asked as she mirrored Miss Binder's actions and held the ticket up to the light. A spark shot across the interior of the ticket as she turned it slightly.

"Right there, dear. A friend of mine told me about it a long time ago. It's the same with the money bills they make up at the Capitol. A true magician-made ticket or bill has a spark of magic put into it, to prevent counterfeits."

"Oh," Anzu said, fingering the ticket. She hadn't known that. "Thanks, Miss Binder, I'm going to get a wrinkle now."

Miss Binder laughed. "Oh, sorry dear. I'll tell you what: why don't you take the rest of the day off? I know a young lady such as yourself needs plenty of time to get ready for such a big event."

"Oh, Miss Binder! Thank you!" Anzu hopped up and resisted hugging her boss. "Are you sure that's all right?"

"Of course, dearie," Miss Binder said, taking Anzu's hands in hers. "I was young once too, hard as that may be to believe. Go on and have a good time. And don't forget to wear gloves; you still have some ink on your hands."

*\*/*

Teana picked up another tray and swept through the crowd in the Hall.

She had spent enough time in the Hall before the Ball started to get acclimated to the splendor, so she wasn't like her coworkers and gaping at the décor instead of watching where she was going.

She was pretty sure no one had noticed her arriving early, just to get a good look at everything. The floor was magnificently tiled in gold and yellow and orange, with some deep blue highlights here and there. Once she was satisfied that she was alone, she had walked out to the center of the ballroom and twirled and danced, lost in her own world, until the click of a lock had told her someone else had arrived.

Now she was striding across that beautiful floor, all business as she served the higher class of society, the magicians. A man in a porcelain mask accepted a hors d'ourve from her tray as she passed by. She swept around the floor until her tray was empty, and then slipped back over to the buffet to get another.

She felt she was relatively stunning in her pale blue dress. It was cut in such a way that she could sweep around quickly without stepping on the hem, or having it be too revealing. There were little chips of gems sewn in—chips, as the whole gem would have been too expensive—and her mask was blue white wings sweeping back into her hair. Not too bad, if she did say so herself.

She had just put down her tray and was reaching for another when she felt a presence behind her.

"You look stunning," the velvet voice said.

She turned around to find the magician from yesterday standing behind her. He must have leaned in to speak in her ear.

She started laughing when his appearance registered—he was wearing a blackbird beak with deep purple feathers flowing back into his hair. It looked like it could have been his real face; the eyes were shaped in such a way that suggested he had just heard a joke, and the corners of the beak were curved up into a grin. If it had been white, she would have thought he was one of those cartoons that Cuban drew, dressed up for a party with an exploding bouquet.

His head jerked back and to the side, the motion accentuated by the beak. "What's so funny?"

"You look like a loon—literally," she told him between gasps. She put a gloved hand to her mouth to stop laughing.

"Hmm," he said, tipping the beak up and then down. He raised a finger. "Do you know what your outfit needs?"

"A few more feet of breathing space?"

"No, not quite."

And he magicked up a necklace, a turquoise teardrop on a silver chain. He slipped behind her and fastened the necklace around her neck, the teardrop settling on her chest just beneath her collarbones.

"It's beautiful," she muttered, fingering it. "I'll remember to give it back to you after the Ball."

"No need," he told her, coming around to her side. "It's yours." He offered her his elbow. "Shall we go?"

"Go where?"

"Somewhere in a general that-way direction," he said, indicating with his beak.

"Sure," she said finally, accepting his elbow. "I have a few minutes to kill."

*/*\*

Miss Binder was right: Anzu needed that extra time beforehand before she was fully and completely satisfied. At seven she left her house and started for the Hall with her ticket firmly in hand—she would rather be early than late.

She got there just as the sun was setting and the fireflies started to stir in the late August air. The Hall was beautiful with its spires and stained glass; it rested like a regal cat on one of the lower plateaus before the mountain range.

She followed the crowd up to the Hall, trying her best to look like she fit in. What had Monique said? Act like you have power. That didn't prevent her from clutching the ticket to her rapidly beating heart.

She handed the ticket to the doorman after seeing several others do so. He held up a little device that resembled a hole-punch to the ticket, but instead of punching a hole in it, it sucked a spark of light out of the ticket instead. The doorman smiled at her wide-eyed expression as he handed the ticket back to her.

"It sucks the spark of magic out of it," he explained as she took the ticket back. "Now it's nothing but a sheet of paper. It makes a good souvenir, though."

She thanked him and went through the huge oak doors, angling to the side quickly so she could gape at the inside of the Hall.

It was bigger on the inside, she felt, thanks to the enchantment on the vaulted ceiling: she could see the huge, curved beams, to be sure, but she also could see a small dusting of stars, like a veil hung beneath the beams. The giant stained-glass windows depicted great wizards, mostly the Head Mages of the past.

Anzu frowned at one blank one in the middle of the stained-glass windows; she had heard that the only blank windows were for future Mages, so that one blank one meant that one had been skipped over. But why?

"Glad you could make it."

Anzu turned to see the magician who had invited her, Yami. He still had the cloak, pendant, and top hat, but his jeans and shirt had been replaced with a sleeved shirt and pants that were made out of a dark shimmering material. He had a domino mask on, black with white spots. She couldn't help but laugh at the irony.

"Shall we go?" he asked, offering her his hand. She noticed he still wore those white conductor's gloves. "There are some people I'd like you to meet."