All That Glitters

Title: All That Glitters
Time Period: December 31, 134 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

Summary: Makes up for what doesn't in the eyes of one lady. The other isn't so sure.

It is no longer a bedroom. It is a sea of dresses. The table has become a pedestal for masks and under the window is an assortment of accessories. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Mariah is holding against her an ironically white, grandly beaded gown in front of a mirror. Frankly, this is the first one with a neckline low enough to please her in the bunch.

"What about you, Luna? Decide what you're going to disguise yourself as for the night?" Not that Mariah's said exactly what she plans to make this dress turn her into, but maybe she's fishing for ideas.

"Despite the fact that I haven't been asked to go with anyone yet? I'm not so certain. I was going to go as one of the faefolk but I think that will be overdone, don't you think?" A wicked glint sparks into Luna's eye as she peers out the corner to give Mariah a sidelong glance. "I think I shall offer to escort one of the militia men, I can't imagine any of them not jumping at the chance, especially since I have never entertained any of them before. Not even Bridget…

Perhaps I should ask her."

A cackle of laughter erupts from the thin woman's frame, fit enough to be pinned to a witch. Maybe she is. It dies down as Luna continues to work on her own mask, a collection of blue, green, and black feathers with golden eyes. Carefully placing the last of the beads, she holds it up to her face and strikes a pose. "What do you think?"

"Well, they might get offended if you don't get it spot on, so there's always that," Mariah turns around to look at Luna, instead of looking at her through the mirror. "I wasn't going to escort anyone, myself. I'm planning to see who decides to take me home, though. It is a special night, after all," she smiles knowingly, like she's got someone specific in mind, maybe.

She lifts an eyebrow at the cackling, and there's a little pause before she nods to the mask. "It's very pretty, Luna. I think it'll make more than a few sorry they didn't ask you." There's another pause as she turns back to the mirror before commenting mildly, "I saw Beisdean, you know. Handsome now, isn't he?"

Lowering the mask, Luna's eyes divert to the floor and she gives a kurt nod. "He always was," she answers quietly, turning her back to the other woman to continue working on her mask. She doesn't say anything for quite a while after that, at least another ten minutes or so. Not even an absent hum as she glues scavenged rhinestones and other finery to embelish the piece of her costume.

When she finally glances back at Mariah, her lips are pursed unpleasantly until she forces a smile. "Maybe he'll be sorry he didn't ask me but given his situation, I don't think he'll be in attendance. He doesn't have much to spend on a grand costume and I think he'd be too shy to go anyhow." Setting her mask to the side, she stands and makes her way to the closet of dresses. They ones still on hangars are slid to the side or tossed onto the bed as she decides her own gown. "Should I dance at the party? Do you think any of the people from the camp will be there? Do you think it would be worth my time to plan on a dance on the off chance that Fletcher will make an appearance?"

"Well, I dare say he's grown into it now," Mariah says before she moves to set the gown aside, sorting through bits and bobs while Luna's silence lingers. But when she speaks up again, Mariah looks her way. "Maybe. He didn't seem all that shy to me, though. However, whether he's there or not, I think the camp should be invited. It would be a shame if they missed one of our most fun nights, wouldn't it? Why don't you just ask your favorite vagabond to come with you?"

She pulls out a set of wings, simple, but a good back drop to the less than simple dress she's picked. "Of course you should dance," she says with a grin, "Whatever is the point of going if you're not going to dance? I plan on dancing every dance with a different man."

"No, Mariah, I mean dance. I haven't in quite a while and obviously some people have forgotten what it's like when Luna Owens takes to the stage." She gives her friend a wry smile and pulls out a garment fabricated of sheer veils and shows more skin than covers. "I could use this with the mask but I dare say I wouldn't be very disguised since no one else in the town owns one."

Prancing to the mirror, she holds it up against herself and twists to look at her reflection. "It would be cold as well, I could bring two costumes and change in between. What do you think?"

"What? Oh, dance," Mariah says with a chuckle. "I say, if he goes, all the more reason, right? But if you're going to wear that, I hope he's prepared for a little competition." Her chuckle becomes a laugh and she sets the wings aside, too, to come over and sit with the masks.

"Two costumes will have to do. After all, that deserves a big reveal, doesn't it? But what do you think? About asking him yourself? It's the only sure fire way to make sure he'll be there, after all."

"Who would be competing with me for his attention? Have you heard anything from the other girls? It's that harpy Florentine, isn't it?" Almost dropping the scanty outfit, Luna races over to Mariah and gives her a hard stare. The business stare. The one that means, she means business. "Is it because her hips are bigger? Do you think I should gain weight? I'm too small, aren't I?"

Tossing aside the dress of veils, Luna makes her way to the closet again and chooses something much more sedate and modest. "The scandal won't be nearly as good with this one… but it hides the fact that I'm much too thin to please a man properly."

"Luna! Luna calm down, you're totally mental," Mariah says as she's stared at. And she can't help but laugh as the other woman turns to hunt for something boring. "Luna, I said he had be prepared. He would have competition. Florentine is a fat cow." It's not so much that she believes it, but that she knows it'll calm her friend down.

"And please, no high collars, I'd be embarrassed to be seen with you," she adds with a teasing grin, before she comes over to put a hand on Luna's shoulder. "Plus, I've never heard any complains about you being unable to please just about anyone. Even Bridget." That she punctuates with a smack to Luna's backside.

The swat receives a squeak and Luna pivots to glare at Mariah. "Stop that! You know I'd never entertain Bridget Ross, I'd sooner have that MacCruimein boor in my bed than her. Not that she doesn't have a more pleasant personality… but please, she didn't age very well."

Throwing yet another dress into the heap of discards, Luna pulls another from the closet. Again it's made up of more fabric than the one chosen by her friend but it's cut low enough to make both of them happy. "This one, I think. I like the gold color, it'll match my hair beautifully. With the mask, I won't have an equal… Except for you, of course."

"I keep trying to tell you, Luna. You don't need manners in the bedroom. You should try a boor, just once. Just not that one, I don't want you stealing my regulars." Mariah drapes her arms over Luna's shoulders as she pulls out the dress, although one hand reaches out to test the fabric. "Oh, you're so sweet to say so. and I think it's lovely. You'll look like Lady Luck, golden head to toe."

She steps back over to the table, picking up a white mask that is just barely there around the eyes, "It's a shame, the bit about having to hide who you are. Suppose nobody guesses all night? Tragedy."

"I'd rather not be bruised and scarred the way most are here. I've had a boor in my bed once, never again. I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than be beaten the way I was." The last part is said a little quieter as Luna continues to study herself in the mirror. Her face falls from nonchalant to genuinely unhappy before she turns and makes for the dressing table. "I need powder, or a drink, or some herbs."

Rifling through the first of the drawers, she pours the contents on the floor before practically falling down to sift through them. "I'm short… I need to get more. Do you think the apothecary will be open today or do you think Missus Rowntree will be getting ready for the mask?"

"I would say you get used to it, but somehow I doubt you would," Mariah says, her own tone even. But her attention does move to her mask for a long moment.

When Luna mentions herbs, though, that gets her attention up again. "Oh, I'm sure everything's closed down for the holiday. Let's have a few drinks instead, yes? Settle the nerves. And maybe give you enough liquid courage to see about your Fletcher, hmm?"

Luna pauses in her search and frowns up at Mariah. "You're right. I never would get used to it and you shouldn't have to. Those men should cherish us simply because no one would work harder to please their ugly, spotty, asses than us." Of course she's not really including herself in that. Sniffing with disgust, she pats the floor with her hand and smiles as she brings up a single cigarette. "This'll do nicely to get me through whatever lays ahead tonight."

Tucking it away, she gives the brunette a meek smile and begins cleaning up the rest of the mess on the floor. "I think a drink will be good, do you have any wine hidden away or would you like some of mine?" Hers is always much harder fare.

"Maybe shouldn't have to, but it's often the only choice we have, in the end." Mariah leans a hip against the table, fingers idling fiddling with her mask, "But you're right that the women out there wouldn't work this hard at it all. But then again, they don't get the jewelry and the dresses, either, do they?" She smiles brightly, as if all of it somehow does make up for the cuts and bruises. And maybe it does, for her.

Mariah lifts an eyebrow at that one cigarette, but indulges her friend's vice with a sigh before she moves to help clean up, too. "Oh, we're drinking yours. It's better and tonight is a night for the best, don't you think?"