The entire thing was very curious. If anyone had cared to ask him, Tyren would not have remembered who gave him the invitation. He simply had it. It was how he found himself aboard the airship with many other passengers. There was a general murmur of excitement and anticipation. Though people crowded the deck, he knew no one stood beside him. Not in the sense of no one hovered around the railing looking up at the pillars hovering in the sky, but there were many couples aboard the vessel. It wasn’t something that bothered him. He was enraptured with the vision before him, especially as the vessel left it’s dock and started to approach. Powerful magic circles held the orbiting towers aloft, with thin strands connecting them. Even those who had made the journey before admired the sight, and the excitement swelled as the vessel got closer.

Many were dressed in their finest. A masquerade ball at the Hanging Gardens was surely an event to pull out all the stops. There were others, Tyren among them, who wore what they had. He didn’t carry many clothes, just kept what he had clean. He spent a lot of time on the road and there was already so much gear without the bulk of extra clothing. His bundles of shawls and wrappings to hide his scales were not necessarily for dancing, but he had learned to work with a, shamanistic persona. Hiding the practicality behind an air of supposed mysticism. The mask enhanced that effect. Hand made, he had stripped the rough bark of an catalpa tree, hiding the eye slits between the hard raised ridges. It was adorned with some runes, and secured behind his head, beneath his hood.

When the ship docked, and the bridges were lowered to disembark, the guests filed down to attend the party. Tyren was patient, letting the eager couples hasten to the merriment. He still clutched the invitation in his hand, as though he expected to be turned away at the last moment. Like there was some kind of mistake. He came down the ramp, and no one waited to examine his invitation. As soon as he set foot on the platform, he felt a change ripple over him. The rough backing of his mask was replaced with something sleek, and his clothes hung differently on him. Looking glasses were arranged on the dock for attendees to make any final adjustments, and he had a start as he examined his reflection. His mask had a long bill, and black feathers radiated around his green eyes. His hair, an untamed curly mane that he usually concealed in his hood, hung almost to his shoulders. Instead of the hooded shawl, he had a cape, also adorned with black feathers. Clearly the mystical host of the evening had decided to carry the motif of his Ravenhart surname. The black continued into the jacket that had replaced his vest. Emerald green stitching twined its way up his arms and radiated from the collar, creating vines that embraced him. The wide belt laden with tools and pouches was also absent. He still bore one dagger on a narrow black belt with a polished silver buckle. His old eroded boots were black and polished as well, with the charcoal gray pants tucked into the down turned tops of them. He turned, trying to take it in, examining himself in the mirror. When he glanced at the invitation in his hand, the text had changed, simply reading, “Have a lovely evening.” He laughed, the feathers on his cape rippling as he turned again, trying to catch another angle of his appearance in the mirror. It was very unlike him. Surely, whatever magic this was, would be limited to the ball, but he no longer felt out of place. He spun on his heel, and with a a final flip of his cape, was off.

The gardens were phenomenal. He flitted from one place to the next, marveling at how they were maintained. There was order, but it still felt natural without the plants being strictly marshaled into place with shears. He gawked from the staircases, at the waterfalls that spilled into infinity, but nothing prepared him for the highest meadow. Music filled the scene, but the people stepped on nothing. The newcomers still regarded the drop with trepidation, but there was no denying the fact that those already dancing were aloft with no support. Green eyes looked eagerly from behind the mask. It was an absolutely enchanting vision. Doubt began to worm it’s way back into his thoughts. He wasn’t terribly gifted with dancing. He had learned how to fight. You had a partner, there was a rhythm to it, but that’s about as far as the similarities went. Still he didn’t want to miss out. He drew the cape around his shoulders, nestling back into the coverage of it, as he wandered around the edge, looking for a way to step in.

When Paradox was told about an open invitation to another dance, which was rather surprising. It seemed like there were a lot of open social events popping up lately.  Her sort didn't often do fancy parties, nor were they often invited to them often, at least not since the Lapiths incident. Such were the consequences of being too rowdy and obnoxious for anything mannerly. The thought made her rather annoyed, centaurs weren't people, not entirely, but they could still act polite and have some self-control. Drink generally had a factor there as well. No matter, she didn't drink and she had been in the civilized world for a while now, she knew the customs and the tendencies, at least most of them by now. 

It had taken some creativity on her part to come up with a suitable dress for her and her rather unusual body type. She had found a very large wrap, partially transparent and white. It was very light and flowed well as she walked. Small specks of metal sparkled in the light as she moved, reminding her of sunlight on frost. She draped this wrap over her hindquarters and back, the delicate thin fabric falling down to just below her hocks and knees. With the remainder of the fabric, she tied it over her chest and waist in a sort of halter top and tied it at the waist. She let the tail of the knot hang down freely.

The white fabric accented her faint dappling on her hindquarters and highlighted her red tail and red accents on her lower legs. She tied her hair and mane in a loose french braid all the way down her back, tying in an assortment of white flowers. The white flowers were carried over to her tail, which was up in a half braid. She looked at herself in a mirror before walking down towards the party. She had never really seen herself in such an attire. Her ears perked forward and she angled herself as she faced the glass in order to see both sides of her reflection. She looked different. More like a person than a beast. Elegant, refined, and dignified, a civilized creature. She smiled at herself and stepped out of her room. She'd leave her saddlebags and bardiche here, she wouldn't need them at the dance.

She recalled on the invitation that it was a masquerade ball. The wording wasn't the most familiar but from the picture on the invitation, she assumed they were to wear masks of some sort. Not scary ones, but something vibrant and unique. This was perhaps the trickiest part of her attire. Carefully, and over the course of several hours of patient work, she managed to craft a small mask out of the same flowers she'd used in her mane and tail, weaving the delicate stems through each other to make it one piece. Her magic would hold life in the flowers for several hours afterward, more than long enough to sustain them for the party. As she approached the platforms, she noticed something slightly peculiar.

Unlike the previous events, she'd been to, all the occupants here were human in appearance. There were no elves, or dwarves, or any other sort of variety present. She was still pondering this lack of variation when she stepped up onto the platform. As soon as all four feet were planted on the platform she felt a shock go through her body. Not an unpleasant one, just enough of one to hold her still for a moment as she felt herself become encased in a warm cloud of magic. She closed her eyes, unsure what to do, only opening them when she felt herself begin to lose her balance.

She leaped forward to steady herself and was quite surprised that even after correcting herself did she still feel slightly off balance. Something was different. She saw groups of people standing in front of the mirrors around the edges of the platform and walked towards it unsteadily. She noted how surprisingly tall they were, possibly giants. When she reached the glass, her reflection in the mirror gave her both a surprise and a fright at the same time. She no longer had the legs nor ears of a horse. Her wrap dress was now changed into a glittery silver-white gown, with her hair still woven beautifully with the white flowers. Twirling around slowly as she gained balance on two legs, she inspected herself in the mirror. She was also a normal size it seemed, for a woman at least. It was slightly unnerving to see some individuals taller than her, but she couldn't nearly reach her old height in this body. After a moment, she walked back to the edge of the platform to conduct an experiment.

She jumped off the platform and was again consumed by the warm cloud of magic, feeling it change her form painlessly and easily again. She saw out of the corner of her eye a dwarf also approach the platform, turning rapidly into an average size human in the process. The magic platform it seemed was designed to allow complete anonymity to the participant, between the masks and making everyone, regardless of their original shape, take on the mirage of a human. It was a remarkable idea, and now that she understood it, she leaped up onto the platform, letting the magic change her back. It was only temporary and she had no desire to be like this forever, but it was fun while it lasted. She glanced at herself again in the mirror before walking into the building.