Festival for a Vampire

For broken_dolly

The room spins dizzily, draped in silver, gleaming like crystal, many-tiered and intricate. The music, sweet and haunting, thrilling, pours through the room, lapping at the dancers' feet, kissing them, playing. The dancers! Oh, the dancers. Swirling, twirling, prancing like children, laughing raucously. Unimaginable beauty and unconscionable hideousness, all together, blurring into each other, the devil's own playground.

But no. Not the devil. Not near so blunt as that. The master of the ball steps forward, dark and smiling, wild and fey and darkly laughing. Old games, these, remembered from darker times, and rich with wild energy. No softness, here. No poignancy. Only celebration.

"Welcome, lady," he says, offering his arm courteously. "Welcome to my Labyrinth."