[ It isn’t difficult to convince Hilda to go all in for a masquerade. She already loves a party, but the drama, the pageantry, and the opportunity to throw away her worries for a night against the backdrop of the feywild makes her heart swoon. She’ll never be an actress, but being around enough of them thanks to her work at the Old Public Hall is certainly rubbing off on her. A costume helps too. Her entire persona has changed as she attempts to channel a “cooler” version of who she is (shout out to all of the cool, badass women in her life for the inspiration).

Unfortunately she's immediately met with her first challenge in the shape of the ceiling. It’s a stunning, dizzying illusion. She’s staring so long that, sure enough, the vertigo hits her sending her staggering into someone nearby. Her wings, while they stretch out as if to help her balance, are merely an illusion and lend little assistance. ]

My apologies. [ Her voice sounds like a purr thanks to the voice modulator. ] There’s a lot to take in. [ Her eyes flit over their costume appreciatively, crinkling in the corners. It's a clear sign that she's grinning under her mask. ] Yourself included.

[ Calling the food and drink interesting is an understatement. Her mask does pose some challenges in that sense, but it’s a future her problem. For most of this evening she’s been biding her time, collecting clues about the other party goers. Maybe this is the first time you’re speaking, or maybe it’s been a dance that begun in the carriages – either way, Hilda slides a plate of what looks like quiche were it not for the fact that it looked more caustic than delicious.

For some reason it's a bright, neon green and what should be vegetables in it are flecked purple and orange. It's in line with the rest of the fey food but it certainly doesn't look appetizing. ]

How adventurous are you with your food? [ Her long claws clink against her wine glass in a rhythmic tapping motion. ] Or maybe I should put it a little more plainly – did you want to make a little wager of it?

[ The smell of roses lure her to the rose garden mazes.

Ever since the Academy, the flower’s scent has never failed to remind her of the Glocester heir she considers a dear friend. She lingers at the entrance of the maze. There’s a brief moment where she forgets she’s at a masquerade where fun had been her utmost priority. Where she isn’t supposed to think about anything but the here and now. Her eyes mist over, and instinctively her hand reaches out to grasp the hand of someone who would understand how much she missed a fussy, decorum-loving noble.

Belatedly realizing that it’s (probably) not the person she hasn’t been speaking to for weeks but someone else, Hilda snaps back to reality. Thanks to a combination of her mask and some quick thinking, she recovers and hopes that whoever’s hand she’s holding doesn’t notice her watery eyes. Instead she owns the hand holding, eyes glinting with some level of forced amusement in an effort to distract. ]

I heard that the buddy system works wonders for mazes. Why don't we tackle it together? [ Her wings flare out slightly for embellishment and her eyes shine like she's found a some sort of tasty prey. ] I promise my claws aren't too sharp.