Hirangral The Disguised

As the grand hall of the Apatite Palace filled with the vibrant whirl of colors and masked faces, Hirangral The Disguised stood at the center, his presence commanding in the sea of revelers around him. The annual masquerade ball, a tradition he upheld with painstaking care, was in full swing even though he would have preferred to banish it. The ball was held in his honor to adhere to his role during the dragon war. That they had decided to make it a masquerade was almost comical but it had been this way for decades. His stern expression and authoritative aura concealed the tension simmering beneath the surface. The sheer number of guests, each with their own expectations and agendas, weighed heavily on him.

Draped in simple but exquisite black attire and wearing a draconic mask, Hirangral moved through the crowd with practiced ease. His sharp eyes took in every detail, every nuance, ensuring that the evening proceeded without a hitch. Yet, the noise and commotion gnawed at his patience. He lifted his eyes to the crystals that floated under the stained window ceiling and dappled blue and green light onto the floor marble floor and dancing guests. Ge felt the tension simmer under his skin. So much that it almost itched. A moment of silence was in order... no, needed.

Hirangral discreetly slipped away, seeking a moment of peace. The Apatite Palace, with its myriad of hidden alcoves and secluded corners, offered sanctuary from the overwhelming throng. He found a quiet spot near a balcony, the cold night air a welcome relief against his tense frame. Snow gathered on the balustrade and he placed his hands into the white blanket, feeling the frost nip at his skin. It cleared his senses, loosening some of the tension in his shoulders.

Just as he began to savor the tranquility, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence. A figure, masked and breathless, stumbled into him, disrupting his fleeting moment of solitude. Hirangral's eyes narrowed slightly, masking his irritation with a composed facade. Straightening his posture, he addressed the stranger with a calm, measured voice. "I trust you have a reason for interrupting my respite? If not, the masquerade offers plenty of extraordinary indulgences you may find more entertaining than a freezing balcony." The words were firm but they carried a worry for his guest's wellbeing. Fridget weather was seldom becoming for creatures less resilient than him.