The masquerade was in full swing, the floor of the slightly decrepit and dimly lit ballroom packed with people, some dancing while others stood idly, chatting and drinking wine. The people looked like glittering monsters, all dressed in fairly muted colors with the occasional green or red or even vibrant blue, the darkness of the room magnifying the eerie aura. Sitting slightly above the crowd on a raised platform, the scarred prince lounged disinterestedly on his throne, blue eyes scanning the crowd with general apathy.
(I'd like to thank my insomnia for making me realize that my stick-on Star Wars nails are actually glow in the dark.)
