The Truth Be Told, Tigers can Tango(Dani)

[KEEGAN BENGAL]

Keegan sighed as he clutched his ticket early in the evening. He had been conned into going by some of his friends, insisting they would all have a good time. At the last second they had paired off leaving Keegan the only one without a date. He had smiled and shrugged it off, insisting they all ride together and he could find his own way. He didn't want to be a third wheel after all. He didn't know why he was still going, well except the gifts his mother had sent him. He had promised her he would wear it after all.

His mother, upon hearing there would be a masquerade, had done the thing she always did, sent him something elaborate. They were well off, well enough that a little splurge like this wasn't much. So he stared at the suit and mostly the leather mask she had sent down for him. The suit was close cut, not anything overly pricy, but still something to be noticed. It was the mask that threw him. It was beautiful. Carved from leather by someone who knew what they were doing, hand painted, it was an incredible piece of art. However that wasn't what sent him off guard. It was what the mask resembled.

'I like it. I think it is wonderful. A perfect outward representation.' he sniffed, for once not talking about food.

Keegan fondled the white painted surface. ”If I were trying to represent you.” He grumbled back. He would talk to the feline aloud when no one was there. He was used to the creature's rambling, however this masque had put Hobbs in a less morose mood then usual and left Keegan to breath easy. His stomach had been mostly quiet for half the day, and that alone was a miracle. It had been years since he hadn't been hungry.

He dressed in his suit, pulling the bright red 'power tie', his mother had said, about his neck. He glanced at himself in the mirror hardly recognizing his own gangly figure. He was tall and lanky, but somehow the suit gave him a masculine flair. He decided he should find more reasons to dress up, it might actually attract a girl. If he was lucky he wouldn't be the only dateless person at the ball. Chin up, as usual, he reminded himself. If it was awful he could always leave.

He lifted the leather mask and tied it to his face. His hair was combed back into a short golden mane, and his shocking blue, hinted gold, eyes stuck out of the white and black mask as if they themselves belonged to the tiger as whom he posed tonight. His mother had been cunning, as she always had. She hadn't known how right she had gotten the mask, it was supposed to be a joke on his last name. Yet he looked predatory, dangerous, and cunning behind that piece of finely crafted leather. Their name, Bengal was sort of odd and as it was the name of a tiger, she thought it funny. The hungry tiger had agreed with her but Keegan saw it as a jab in the ribs. While his mother did not know of his strange mental companion, she had chosen far better then just her silly joke.

”What do you think Hobbs?” He said as he stood back observing the stranger in the mirror.

The tiger let his enthusiasm spread through Keegan's mind, their joined consciousness somewhat mailable that way, 'You look good enough to eat. Speaking of eating there will be food at this gathering right?'

Keegan's stomach gave an approving rumble and he snatched a granola bar. He called a cab, having no mode of transport himself, and rode it to the event, clutching his ticket and his wallet in his pants pocket. He stepped out of the cab and paid the driver. Now arrived, he strolled inside, handing his ticket where it was due. The chaos within almost threw him again. He stared over the sea of people and stepped into the thick of it. He wasn't sure where he was going, or if he would run into his friends at all in this. Around the outside of the room hovered people talking and chattering, in the middle they danced sometimes to something modern, sometimes to a waltz or a swing song. The music was good enough he decided. His belly gave a sharp grumble, apparently the granola bar hadn't been enough and it was time to restock as the tiger pined over a woman in a sheep mask.

'A pity I could never do it.' he crowed sadly, 'She would have filled you I am sure.' This caused Keegan to turn rather green and hurry onwards. 'Would you see if there is lamb at the table?' He purred, not seeming to care.

Keegan cut a swath for the refreshment table. He could feel eyes following him. His mask was exquisite, being crafted from leather and fitted over all but his chin. He looked every bit the white tiger as he loomed through the crowd. Quickly he gained the food table and he stuffed a piece of cheesecake into his mouth. He avoided the meats for now and turned to stare through the crowd at the mass that danced within. He was lucky he had learned to dance at a young age. While he wasn't the best at the modern bump and grind, his mother had forced him into social dance lessons when he was younger, so he knew how to dance 'properly', not that he had anyone to dance with. He also went to a preforming arts school, which helped with the whole dancing thing. He stuffed his face with another piece of cheese cake enjoying the decedent taste. He normally didn't get any nice deserts, not for lack of wanting, but for lack of extra money.

[CLARISSA RAMONE]

Clarissa couldn’t even begin to understand why she was attending a masquerade ball. Her of all people, dressing up and attending a dance. It was simply outrageous. Any of her friends, the ones that had known her during her shy stage, would stare at her as if she were crazy. Clarissa? In a dress and heels at a ball? Hilarious! What sort of bet had she lost?

Clarissa, this is no time to be thinking on the past. Focus. You still need to do your hair.

Clarissa scowled at Bashful in the mirror. He’d decided that she could style her hair on her own for the night, the one big night where it actually mattered. She kept expecting to burn herself with the curling iron, for her hair to turn out a frizzy mess. As she curled each lock of hair, she grew increasingly paranoid that none of this would look right by the time she had finished. The only thing he’d done was pick out the dress, of course. He’d been trying to pick dresses she wouldn’t wear in a million years, not that they were ugly, just that she wasn’t at all comfortable in them. They had finally settled on one they both liked, but she still felt uncomfortable without any straps. It wasn’t often she went out with her shoulders completely bare.

Ten minutes later, her hair was finished. It had only taken an hour and a half (an hour longer than I would have taken[/color]). She moved onto her makeup then, figuring she’d learned enough from Bashful on this that she could take care of it herself. Already, he was proud of her for at least knowing not to put the dress on before applying eye makeup and everything. She was in her bathrobe and heels – yes, she was wearing the heels. It hadn’t even been Bashful’s idea. She knew for a fact that she’d need lots of practice in these. Clarissa had been wearing them all around her dorm for a couple of days now, hoping she’d at least no longer wobble by the night of the masquerade. Which she still didn’t know why she was attending.

Because, darling, there are going to be hundreds of people there. People for you to meet and mingle with, people who might be Snow White.[/color]

Clarissa made a sound that was half scoff, half laugh. Of course that was why he’d wanted to go! It’s as if everything to him was about finding Snow White. It was surprisingly irritating sometimes. One of those times was now. Once she’d finished with her face, she squinted and checked to make sure everything looked at least alright from every angle. Once satisfied (and having received a nod of approval from Bashful), she move onto jewelry. She’d dug out her grandmother’s necklace for this special occasion, and putting it on made her both proud and sad. If only her parents could see her right now… Where were they currently? … Japan, maybe? Shaking her head (and being briefly confused by the feeling of the curls bounce), she stood and left the bathroom.

Another hour later, and she was at the ball. Clarissa kept fidgeting with her mask, nervous and shy and uncomfortable. At least she was walking in the heels well enough… Wandering around the edge of the room for awhile, adjusting to… well, everything, she took in all the sights. The decorations, the dresses and suits, the masks. Oh, the masks! Some were so pretty and elegant, others over the top, some simple. Again, she ran the ribbon of hers through her fingers, her stomach going in funny little flips. Maybe she was just hungry… Swallowing back her fear, she made her way to the refreshments table (it was, of course, quite crowded). Not quite sure what she even wanted to try, Clarissa decided maybe something sweet would calm her down. (Was that ironic? Probably.) Before she could even choose, Bashful had materialized beside her. He seemed to be staring at a tall man in a tiger mask. Bashful, that’s rude! He ignored her.

Groaning to herself, she took a small piece of cheesecake as well and ate it slowly. She wasn’t hungry, exactly, and she didn’t want to stuff her face. Clarissa could feel herself blushing and it was everything, just everything, the decorations and the dresses and suits and the masks and everything. She hadn’t a second to consider leaving because Bashful had suddenly taken over, moving closer to tiger mask, not so subtly bumping into him. She could hear herself speaking, but she wasn’t picking the words. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Bashful smiled sheepishly for her and she was suddenly in control again, blushing a very light pink. “I—um, I wasn’t… paying attention, sorry.”

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