[Quiet Man Cometh]

The decor shone, and the guests paraded about in twirling dances and collections of conversation. Everything was like it's own fantasy, like the world inside a music box. Every once and a while the lid is opened and the world shines for a little while on the people inside before everything goes dark again when the music runs out.

People have their reasons for coming; for not coming. Perhaps they are seeking the queen's grace. Perhaps they are seeking fortune; a parter; a name; a title. Perhaps they are simply here for a good time, or to forget bad ones. Either way, it is the event of the year and most assuredly of the moment.

"Winter" made her way to a table of delicate canapes, liberating the table of a glass of port and a few cherries as red as the rose in her hat. Drink in hand, she made her way into a side room, away from the cluster of dancers.

She wasn't the only one taking time to explore the grounds. Others walked in and out, some in open admiration of the pleasanties surrounding them, others distracted with their own internal musings. She walked up to one individual looking out of a window. "Such a lovely evening, isn't it?"