Paper Faces

Basileios isn’t sure what they are saying. The whispers. They call to him sweetly, like a partner offering their hand for a harmless dance with a crooked smile and slender fingers. There is a brief hesitation before he takes it, untangling his limbs from crisp white sheets and swinging his legs over the edge of the creaking bed. A yawn forces its way from his lips, arms stretching over his head and bare feet reaching carefully for the floor with a curl of his toes as they meet the cold.

But as he stands, and his eyes open, he is no longer in the seedy little tavern room, splintery wooden floor replaced by uneven cobblestone and packed dirt. He turns where he stands, his coat wrapping around his legs as a gentle breeze tousles his messy hair and plucks at his sleeves. It sends a shiver down his spine, but he does not feel cold. He does not feel… anything, truly, as the world seems to transform around him.

The whispers shift into laughter as the streets come alive around him, bright colors decorating the surrounding architecture with lanterns and flags and everything in between. Music dances through the streets, accompanied by the cries of singers and actors and even townsfolk alike. He is drawn to follow it, and it is not long before those voices are claimed by faces.

The faces are not real. They are painted and strapped on with elegant fabrics, glowing under the torchlight as the people behind them spin and whirl to the music. They rush past him with ghostly steps as if he isn’t even there, and his feet start to move him forward with them.

As the flurry of dancers continue, one slows as they pass him, lifting their mask to reveal a beaming, toothy grin. With an all too cheery giggle and a wiggle of their fingers, they turn their palm to the colorful sky and suddenly, a glittering powder spreads across Basileios’ face. He sputters and stumbles back, his hands catching himself on the smooth marble edge of a babbling fountain. The world around him spins and dips, blurring into a stream of colors and noise. He fights to stay upright as the dancers acknowledge him now, ignoring his gasping pleas for them to stay back as they shuffle closer and closer-

-but the shadows on their faces do not bleed away to expose monsters. Instead, each one reaches for him with tangled whispers; ghostly touches to his shoulder before they dance away like light on the ocean’s surface. Some are human-like, others are not. Some disappear in the light, others consume it, glowing with the colors of the lanterns. He can’t help but lean back and admire them, if only for a moment. Their colors, their wispy steps, their alluring voices. He isn’t sure how long he is lost in this spell before it is broken by another shadow growing close.

He recognizes the toothy grin of the next one that approaches, and they lay their hand on his shoulder (still sparkling from the powder, he notes). They lean in close to his ear, drawing a finger to his cheek to brush back his messy hair with a lyrical laugh. He can’t help the way his skin pricks, or his heart skips a beat, or the way he leans away from those teeth with his grip on the fountain turning his knuckles white.

“Are you ready?” They whisper in his ear, and they laugh again at the confused look that meets them.

“What?” Basileios is caught off guard, the spinning world around them slowly dissolving back to reality. The colors are fading and the music is dying. One by one, the spirits fade away into the shadows of the inn room.

The grin grows as they stroke his cheek, but this time their touch is warm and pleasant. “It’s time-”

“It’s time to go.”

His eyes open slowly, revealing Lasair in the place of the painted smile; and he offers his own sleepy grin as he reaches for her hand and tangles her fingers with his own. His eyes flutter closed again as he brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly as he chases away the lingering dream for the moonlight that filters in through the curtains.

“Not yet,” he sighs against her skin, for five more minutes certainly can’t hurt.