I don't know how to cut the five hundred extra words :sob:
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There was a ringing, the sound of metal against glass before a smooth voice spoke up.
“Welcome, welcome to the annual Dragon Egg manor masquerade,” There was a man standing at the head of the dining table, holding a glass of rich red wine in one hand and a spoon in the other. He wore simpler clothes than a vast majority of the guests, black three-piece suit, lavender undershirt, purple tie with shiny dress shoes and a plain white geometric mask that covered the entirety of his face. The mask had no ornate baubles or features, nor did it need to. It was a simple white, with black pits where the eyes were supposed to be and creamy feathers along the side, creating small wings with outreaching “fingers”. Black lines slashed across the bridge of the nose, creating several shapes that seemed to have no purpose or order.
“I am so happy to see the turnout tonight, and the costumes are absolutely stunning, might I add.” He gestured towards the audience staring up at him, still seated while a few servants milled about, dressed in white and black with a plain version of the host’s mask, serving plates of food and refilling wine glasses. The smile was obvious in his voice, even if you couldn’t see any of his features. He took a sip of his wine, delicately lifting the corner of his mask in a way that wouldn’t reveal any features besides silky shadows and the slightest amount of ruby red lips.
“I would give a speech about how glad I am you came and how much I hope you enjoy the party, but that would be boring of me, wouldn’t it?” A few guests chuckled and the host joined in, waving away a servant that tried to refill his glass with a gloved hand, whispering something in their ear. They nodded and scurried out of sight, after handing the bottle off to another servant.
“But I do have something to say, before we can start, but don’t worry, it’s something I think is in your best interest to listen to.” The host leaned forward, mischief dancing in his voice as he lowered it to a stage-whisper.
“Remember those invitations you got this morning? Please open them.” There were murmurs of confusion as the guests did so, which steadily grew louder as they opened the invitations and discovered they changed. The purple paper was now white, the crisp printed letters a fancy calligraphy now, handwritten. Each invitation said something along the lines of;
Welcome to the Dragon Hall manor. You have been selected amongst the town’s population for your unique skill set which you will now use to help the people of this party escape the Manor. Be careful, this is not just an ordinary escape room. There is someone amongst you who is not like the rest and has been given special instructions to pick you off one by one, until only two remain. If you are that someone, you have been notified prior to this invitation and will not need to heed these words.
Everybody in these halls is behind a mask, who can you trust besides yourself? Best of luck, my dearest guests, time’s ticking and the first clue is this:
ʖ╎∷↸ᓭ 𝙹⎓ ᔑ ⎓ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑ᒷ∷ ⎓ꖎ𝙹ᓵꖌ ℸ ̣𝙹⊣ᒷℸ ̣⍑ᒷ∷, ℸ ̣∴ᒷꖎ⍊ᒷ ╎ᓭ ℸ ̣⍑ᒷ ꖌᒷ|| ℸ ̣𝙹 ᓭ╎ꖎᒷリᓵᒷ.
The host took another sip of his wine as the guests erupted into pandemonium, clapping his hands cheerfully to get their attention.
“Let the festivities begin!” He said, over exaggeratedly bowing as someone lunged out at him, teeth bared in a feral snarl, eyes wide with panic. He winked at them from behind the mask, disappearing a puff of lavender smoke interlaced with curls of gold.
There is one pleasant aspect of wearing a mask, Parker noted dully, ignoring the paranoia lumping in his throat, nobody can see just how scared we are. He let his fingers flit over the smooth porcelain of his, tiny bumps forming blue teardrop scales under the eyes, ridged swoops forming curved teeth, created out of metal and dripping into long needles that could puncture skin just as easily as a knife. Precautions were always useful.
91Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4uB5VwwF7B
He studied the invitation in front of him, words swimming and blending together into a mass of black ink, a few individual words standing out sharply. Time’s ticking, escape, instructions, time. He tugged a strand of brown hair in frustration, teeth worrying away at his raw-bitten lips. Time, time, time’s ticking. Something about that phrase itched at his brain, thoughts scrambling to place it with the rest of the clues. The tiny pictures at the bottom of the page- the first clue- was in a language that Parker felt like he should know, but couldn’t quite place.
A hand clasped down on his shoulder and he flinched away, crinkling the invitation with surprise. Someone settled in the seat next to him, fabric brushing over his shoulders as they sat.
“It’s the Standard Galactic Alphabet, enchanting language, if you will.” The voice was quiet and Parker looked over, studying the figure next to him. Their mask was ornate, red and cyan feathers dotted through with green, a brass beak hooking down into a wicked point that gleamed gold in the flickering torchlight. Sage green eyes blinked thoughtfully at him from behind the eyeholes, winking once they caught his gaze. He looked away immediately, focusing on their outfit. Their suit was nearly the same as their mask, clashing together in a way that shouldn’t have gone together as well as it did. The fabric was a deep crimson, matching the majority of the feathers, with a light green undershirt the same shade as their eyes and a blue tie, all of it tied together with golden jewellery.
“It translates to; birds of a feather flock together, twelve is the key to silence.” Parker frowned, finally meeting their gaze.
“And why are you telling me this?” He coated his tone in dryness, stashing his invitation in his pocket and clasping his hands in front of him, leaning closer to the man in front of him so that eavesdroppers wouldn’t be able to hear them.
“You got a look to you, bro,” The bird masked man said, smiling sharply at him, “I can’t explain it exactly, but you look like you figured something out. I wanna get out of here, you wanna get out of here, it’s in both our best interests to listen, eh? Name’s Elijah.” Elijah held out a hand, as if for a handshake. He hesitantly shook it.
“Parker.” He said, releasing Elijah's hand as soon as he could, subtly wiping it on his pants and grimacing. There was a taste in his mouth, something between paranoia and disgust, something that tasted like a mixture of month-old milk and spoiled wine, like drinking straight up citric acid. The guy next to him watched him with bated breath, waiting for him to speak again.
“It’s something to do with time.” Parker finally said, sighing. Time, the voices crooned, you’re running out of it. He ignored them, squinting at Elijah to gauge his reaction. The guy’s face remained frustratingly blank, not even a twitch to give any indication of what he was thinking.
“Birds of a feather flock together, twelve is the key to silence? Bro, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Elijah mused, drumming his fingers idly on the embellished wood of the table.
“The birds of a feather flock together part is useless.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s fluff, they don’t need it. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s a distraction, a-” Parker paused, brow furrowing as he searched for the word.
“A red herring?” Elijah piped up, looking impressed.
“Exactly.” He snapped his fingers. “Bet most people are going to go to that one hallway, the one with all the mummified and taxidermied birds, remember? But all those birds are different, exotic and pretty sure, but they’re not “birds of a feather.” “ Parker bit down on his lip in thought, nails scratching idly at the palm, mumbling softly to himself.
“I wonder…” He cut himself off, glancing at Elijah who simply stared at him curiously. He grinned. “I wonder how many clocks this place has.”
Elijah smiled, oozing satisfaction.
“Let’s find out, shall we?
ns 15.158.61.8da2
