bbs- banana banana shot? (booty booty squad?)

ohmtoonz: 11 months in the making

Before we start: jesus fuck im sorry i have no idea what this is or whats going on. It was supposed to be ~1000 words but??? That sure didn't happen lmao

This was meant to be for the whole "new years" shit but that also did not happen.

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Masquerades aren't Luke's thing. They never were, and they never will be. He doesn't like the idea of getting dressed up all nice in those stupid, tight suits or having to wear some big fancy mask that he'll probably never wear again. Unfortunately for him, his job states that attending one of these god forsaken parties is exactly what Luke must do. He's currently in a small shop, getting a suit tailored by one of the many people working for the kings of this kingdom.

He watches as the tailor, a nice man named Evan, quietly works on the finishing touches of Luke's suit.  A simple red suit with black and gold accents is what Luke's going to be wearing, Evan adjusting the seams and making sure everything fits properly.

“You look great, sir. Coming to the ball tonight, I assume?” Evan smiles warmly at Luke, who nods quietly in response.

“Yeah. They… they're not really my thing,” he admits quietly. “But you know how it is, work and all. An acquaintance wants me there, so I'm kinda stuck going whether I want to or not.”

Evan, thankfully, doesn't question what his job is or why it involves him having to be at the ball tonight. Which is good for Luke, because he doesn't know how he would dare explain himself to the poor tailor. He's not even from this kingdom.

They finish up in some twenty minutes or so. Luke is thankful to be out of there- it's rather scary- and goes to his small home in the village. It's no castle, but home is home regardless of how it looks.

Luke sits at his table, grabbing a jug of beer and chugging it with no shame. He closes his eyes when done, resting his head on the table. He doesn't know if he's able to do this.

He's not a coward, but he's not an idiot either. A ball has too many risks and not enough safety. Not enough privacy. He takes a deep breath, trying to relax himself.

Luke has to force himself to stand up, wobbling over to his bed where the tailored, brand new suit lays, wrapped up in a piece of cloth to keep it clean and dry.

He lifts it up with shaky hands, pulling the cover off. Luke doesn't have much time before the ball starts, and being late is not an option. The townspeople see everything and Luke has a reputation to keep.

He takes off his clothes, all worn and slightly dirty, and changes into his suit. Turning to the mirror along the wall, Luke is surprised by what he sees. The vivid crimson red contrasts nicely with the black undershirt, and the gold hems along the collar and buttons bring out a little shimmer. It fits him snugly, showing off his broad shoulders and light brown, almost reddish hair.

He takes the mask the man had sent him and puts it on his face. The majority of it is the same stunning red as his suit, the top corners curling up into two black horns. The holes for the eyes are outlined with gold, and Luke is stunned by the relative simplicity of it.

Who would've thought a nobleman could ever understand the concept of simple clothing? Though he'll surely stick out with a red suit like this, it's going much better than expected. He grabs himself his nicer pair of shoes, slipping them on. He also makes sure to slip a nice, clean, small dagger into his pocket. He'll need it for later.

The party is in full swing an hour later, the two kings at the center of it all. Luke decides now is the best time to go in for the kill, while everyone is lost in their alcohol and dancing. He pushes his way through the crowd, a sea of pompous assholes and the overwhelming scent of just... people. It smells like rich people here, and Luke doesn't like it one bit.