Almost like stone they can become. So attached, yet so very light; almost as if they weren't there, but with them, the world can almost be seen in a different light. Though, depending on the crowd, the light can be either bright or dark. No. This is not entirely true. There is only one crowd for this. And only one light. Neither bright nor dark. It is rather mysterious, yet on going. There is a cold center piece with an outer feathery kind of feeling. The atmosphere isn't delightful but it isn't unpleasant.
The masks are something that the common person would have never put an exact finger on. They would have first set eyes on the dresses and the coats, the tuxes and the costumes. They would have set mind on the eyes, the eyes peering from behind the masks. They would have even set eyes on the lights; the decorations. While these things are a part of the magic piece, they are not the center. They do not make up a majority. They are small bits. Tiny pieces to a thousand piece puzzle. The center, the majority, and the lesser seen, the lesser attraction... The masks. These are what make up the mood. They are the center and they are the souls. They create boundaries between reality and the non-reality.
They. They are what make up the beauty of this Masquerade. There are many different kinds, each its own soul. Each creating a separate boundary that all together comes into one.
Because in the end, in the Masquerade, everyone and everything, is a lie. Nothing is real. It is a non-reality that can never be undone.
But let it be said: In the Masquerade, everyone is beautiful but everyone is showing what they wish to be. It is, in fact, a dance of lies and wanting. A wanting that no one ever leaves with because the wanting is sucked into the mask. The jewelry. The dresses. The tuxes. The decorations and the ball room. It is a one night fairy tale that by the next morning will all just be a memory and a dream untrue.