The bat looked around him in confusion. He was standing in a large room, the floor made up of smooth wooded planks. People everywhere. And all were masked. Music came to his ears, penetrating his mind with the lovely sound of a slow waltz. It was a shame he was standing here on his own, secluded from the rest of the invited guests.
Wait, did that mean he had been invited as well? He couldn’t remember, but he was here, wasn’t he? Now he noticed he was wearing strange clothes. He wore an orange vest of sorts, with long flaps extending to his knees. The pattern sewn on it looked a bit like burning fire. His sleeves however, were black and long, the ends white. The pants he was wearing was long and black as well, stopping just where his ankles began. His feet were put in some kind of ballet shoes. Black in color, with a border of red.
Strangely, the clothes fitted him surprisingly well, as if they were tailor made just for him. He brought a hand up and scratched his scalp. Immediately he noticed his wild mane was combed backwards, no stray locks hanging in front of his eyes like usual. He frowned. Shaking his head wildly in an attempt to make it a bit messy, like he preferred, didn’t help one bit. It just kept laying backwards. He touched his gray locks, but retracted his hand as soon as a greasy substance touched his fingers.
He rubbed hid thumb and middle finger together, spreading the grease over them in a thin layer. So someone had fixed his hair eh? Well, the party looked chic, so in hindsight it shouldn’t have surprised him his hair was laying in a proper fashion. He shrugged.
Suddenly, he became aware of a sensation on his face. Something hard was sticking on it. He reached out to it with his left hand, carefully stroking his fingers across the thing. It was a mask. He could feel ridges on the surface of it, making elegant swirls and spirals. Also, the mask only covered about half of his face. The right side. On the left side, it only covered his forehead and nose. Somehow he knew the mask was black and the swirls were silver. Like his clothes, it fitted him perfectly.
He found himself liking his getup. It suited him somehow. Who had given it to him, he didn’t know. How he got it, he couldn’t remember. Neither could he recall where he was. But it looked like an expensive party. And if it was expensive, there had to be valuables nearby. Valuables, he knew, were worth stealing. Coincidental, stealing was what he did. Unfortunately, his clothing didn’t hold any pouches or hidden pockets he could store things in. He grunted. Disappointment was written all over his face. Fortunately no-one would notice since he was masked.
Curiously, he eyed the other guests. There were a lot of them. They weren’t all human. There were Charoda, whom he recognised because of their fishlike skin. Other Kelvics, like him, winged creatures who looked a bit out of place on this party. He looked up and saw a Symenestra dancing on the ceiling, enchanting the audience with her elegant movements.
The thief could also see a huge chandelier with an evenly huge ape-like creature swinging on it. He lifted an eyebrow. If he were the host, he wouldn’t allow it, but that was just him. Applause arose and the bat joined in with the choir of loud claps so he wouldn’t stand out too much. He had a feeling his clothes attracted already enough attention.
Suddenly, a man spoke up, his voice carried over the crowd with ease. It appeared he was the host of this fancy party. The bat wondered what he had to say. Probably a welcoming speech. The usual. He was right. The man introduced himself as Quint Caravel and was indeed the host. He invited them all to eat and have a drink. And, most importantly, to have fun. The bat didn’t have to be told twice.
Escaping the loneliness of seclusion, he headed towards the host, a small group of people had gathered there. There was the host himself, a rather small girl with long hair, a red head who seemed to be pregnant and a dark skinned woman. The bat had forgotten about the Sym dancing above their heads when she suddenly lent down and kissed the red haired woman.
The bat growled in annoyance. Symenestra. Stupid spider race. Reaching the group, he made a small bow, placing his right hand on his chest, while making a wave like gesture with his left arm. Slightly bending through his knees, the bat dipped his head. Then, straightening himself up, he introduced himself to the people nearby.
“Greetings, I am Brandon Of The Black Wings. Pleased to meet you all.” He gave his audience a pleasant grin.
“Well, except you.” He flicked his finger towards the Sym.
“Anyways, I was wondering, is there any of you ladies who’d like to dance with me?”
