paper faces on parade [jedwin / masquerade!

I am not the man I used to be.

Shrill screams once again fill the harrowing halls of the Libertine household - between crying, howling, laughing, and singing, this was all very much the same as always. It was just a matter of being able to distinguish one from the other. That always seemed to be where I fell to a fault, ungracious and greedily hogging the floor space in my complete ineptitude to distinguishing my family's emotions from happy to sad. Though the two did seem to become synonymous with each other most often. I remember what Pen used to sound like singing through the halls, her siren's voice carrying through the floorboards mercilessly. We're having a party. A party. What was that all about? The creaking walls were filled with endless sorrow, not the best venue for a celebration and what for?

To hide.

How obvious was it to everyone what the Libertine family was trying to do, hiding endlessly behind the grief of two siblings that had been unjustly slaughtered. How unpractical. I wander to the shop floor, brushing gently against the mismatched shelves covered in a variety of generally useless items. Maps, crystals, ropes, any sort of knick knack that a customer of ours would need. Bright white lights shine through the sullied window grasping few inches of the store, but just enough to give light to the amount of care we took care, and the answer was not much. I don't remember the last time I'd taken a broom to the floor, cleaned the window. But it all changed so soon, this whole facade was merely an excuse to clean, sweeping ripped and ragged cloths across surfaces, setting aside shelves and dirt as to make room for dancers. What an ordeal, if only the confines of the shop did grow, if only I could - escape. If there was one thing I'd learned from my darling sisters, it was that escape was only achieved in a single manner.

Hiding behind a mask made of solid white, it was the night to become a mystery beyond any of which my siblings had ever seen. What kind of man lived behind the mask of a rabbit, that was for me to decide. I could be any kind of monster or human being I wanted. Suave, sexy, mysterious, lurking in the corners and surveying the crowd as if it was time to take out a hit. Dancing wildly with the most simple of people, or the most curious of them all. We did have a reputation for the weird and quirky, did we not? The powder white suit feels as if silk along my sensitive skin, though I know it's nothing of the sorts, perhaps a cheap cotton, but it adds only to the illusion that perhaps someone of importance had shown up tonight.

The true secret was, that a boy who hugged window sills could change who he was by simply putting on a mask. Tell me a better one than that.

A glittering mask, bedazzled in every area possible with white stones, traced into the shape of a rabbit. I don't know any rabbit that looks quite as fanciful, but it was enough of a magic trick to change a boy into an animal, that I figured - why not? Pressing it to my face and instantly feeling the closeness and change that wearing a mask brings, it's hard to not notice how the white contrasts against my now grey looking skin. Who am I, now? "Who are you?" I whisper to my shadow, and then once again to my reflection in the mirror. "Who are you?" I drop the crystal prism from my night stand into my pocket and waltz out the door confidently, a good luck charm on a night of potential destruction and unpredictability.

Come find me tonight, howling in the moonlight that drifts through a newly cleaned window. I feel the heavy thump of people talking, though I take to back door and swing around as to enter a guest, not a host. A host has responsibilities, and I, tonight, am just a simple rabbit, ready to be pulled out of a hat. The raunchy air is instant, feeling as if though mischief is threaded like braids, thick and hard to take in, it's a circus of hybrids between human and animal - it is exactly the kind of party a Libertine would throw. But am I a Libertine tonight? No, no I am not. Then, who am I? I let my self be infected by the feel of human beings, sweat alongside them, let their hands groggily touch my body as I touch theirs. It's a night where stars are colliding across a never ending sky and creating fireworks, a night of pure anonymity, that was the beauty behind a mask.

The drinks seem to loosen the crowd a little bit, make them more at ease as the warm liquid fills our lungs and we lift them up cheering to - happybirthday cheers toanewyear tothelibertines hallelujah whatarewecheeringto - maybe that was the magic of it all. The drinks smell wonderful, but remind me of the harsh smell of peppermint. Triggering the thought of a small slip of a hand along my legs, and suddenly my legs are being touched, and my thighs - suddenly I'm dancing with a woman in a mask who I don't know - I wonder if I know her, and which Jorge would she like better? The rabbit or the lost boy gazing out the windowsill. Which Jorge did I like better?

The moonlight glides through the window even brighter twisting across the tinsel lined on the shelves. Silver clashes across the walls creating a sort of light show on the dance floor, almost magical in comparison to the rest. This was what magic was. Slipping the crystal from my pocket, I walk over to the window and let the light shine across it. The rainbow instantly hits the ceiling above - how wonderful the moonlight was to create a new illusion. Stronger than ever before was the magic of the Libertine household. I can still hear her songs, and her screams. I can still see their limp bodies.

But tonight, I am not the man I used to be.