Livia appreciated all sorts of social gatherings, but to say she was displeased when she'd learned she'd be wearing a mask the entire evening was an understatement. Masks didn't allow many ways to make connections; it seemed she'd be stuck waltzing around and attempting to remember which of her friends was wearing what. She'd chosen a goose mask, unaware of the effects choosing such a creature would have on her personality as the night went on.

Much of her evening had been gossiping — no, speculating was probably a better term. It was a silly thing for her to do, and more specifically a silly thing for her to do in the presence of others, but she was becoming less and less self-aware as time went on. Her friends (donning beautiful bird masks, ranging from swans to eagles) seemed entirely more elegant than she, and as such had excused them self from conversation with her when she'd gone a little overboard with her conspiracies. A frown stretched across her face — she was all alone now! Well, only momentarily, it seemed.

She gasped as someone's hand caught her wrist, and she turned to find herself staring up at a masked gentleman who looked like a hound. Something about it seemed inherently frightening; Livia found herself helplessly tugging away from his grasp. Was he a murderer — perhaps even a vampire — who's found his way into the ball?