She ignores the prickling sensation of her nails stabbing into her palm, despite the pristine ivory mask covering half of her face, her eyes speak of the hatred leaking through her gaze staring at the centre of the hall.
A man in a deep black suit, gold thread pattern embellished the lapel of his silver waistcoat, ash grey cravat cascade on his chest, with silver glove and mask covering half of his face, prim and dignified. The sole presence taking away the whole crowd's attention the second he took a step inside the Main Hall. However, that pair of eyes chose to stare down at someone standing before him.
