section7mfu | PicFic for 10/16

Masquerade

Undercover work, for the most part, was something Illya could enjoy. Throwing himself into another personality was always something of a challenge and there was something inside of him that always rose in response to a challenge. What had him on edge for this mission was the person that he was partnered with. Namely Millicent Waverly.

Part of Illya rebelled at putting a woman of her age into a possibly dangerous situation, but he couldn't think of anyone else who would be better suited for the role of a lonely, wealthy widow. The THRUSH man they needed to get closer to was rumored to have gained his fortune through a series of relationships with older women of means and Mrs. Waverly fit his preferences to an uncanny degree that he knew had to bother Mister Waverly.

However, whatever else could be said about the Old Man, he was genuine in his beliefs about the importance of a mission. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to have his wife going in without the maximum protection that he could provide without drawing too much suspicion. So Illya was there as her doting son with Napoleon posing as her chauffeur.

For her part, Mrs. Waverly seemed an enthusiastic participant as she adjusted her mask before they exited the car. It reminded him of a representation of the Firebird - all gold and red feathers that matched well with the colors of her gown. He put on his own mask which looked bird like as well and was also done in red and gold, but without any feathers.

"Do you know that it has been ages since I have attended a masquerade ball, Lev?"

Illya smiled down at Mrs. Waverly as he continued to push her wheelchair into the ballroom, as fully immersed in his role as she was in hers.

"I seem to remember that you met Papa at a masquerade ball, Mama."

"Yes, that's right, darling. Let's go over there, if you don't mind. I would love to watch the dancers."

Looking around the room, Illya studied some of the other older ladies present. A few looked as if they had been too close to an explosion at a jewelry store. The majority of them handled their jewelry as Mrs. Waverly had - a few pieces here and there. He, Napoleon and Mister Waverly had all watched with a touch of bemusement as she deftly went over and rejected the majority of the pieces that had been brought to complete his undercover role. Mister Waverly's one remark suggesting a more elaborate piece than one she had chosen was met with a frosty remark.

"Alexander, I am not going out in public, even in disguise, looking like Lavinia."

The statement meant nothing at all to either Illya or Napoleon, but Mister Waverly looked as chastised as Illya could ever remember and made no additional remarks concerning the choices in jewelry.

Comparing her now to the other ladies present, Illya could now appreciate the care she had taken. All of the pieces were well-made and most classically styled, but some of them were obviously older pieces - ones that hinted to jewelry that had been hers for a long time or possibly inherited. Regardless, the older pieces mixed with a few of newer styles spoke of a long history of wealth that had not dwindled away over the years.

They both knew that the bait had been taken as a blonde in a strapless black gown, wearing an equally black mask made of lace, came toward them. She was the daughter of their target and it was plain that her flirting was with intent to separate ‘Lev’ from his mother. His ‘mother’ urged it along.

“I will be fine here, Lev. You are still young – enjoy yourself. After all, you never know when lightning will strike, but you can be sure it will never strike if you never go out into the rain.”

A genuine soft laugh came from Illya at that as he leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek.

“Fine. I will not be far though if you need me, Mama.”

It was about five minutes later that their man made his initial move.

“The young man in red and gold is with you, isn’t he, Madam?”

“He is indeed. My youngest child. The young lady he is with seems quite charming.”

“I will accept that compliment on her behalf as well as take partial credit for it.”

“You must be her father then?”

“I am. Since we are all masked, perhaps we can do with first names, Madam?”

She gave a soft laugh and offered her hand.

“If this is the most inappropriate thing done here tonight, this will be the dullest masquerade ball I have ever attended. You may call me Melliese, sir.”

“Xavier, Madam – at your service. Your accent – Russian, is it not?”

“It is.”

“I hope you won’t be offended when I say that you look as I have always imagined the Grand Duchess Anastasia would look.”

“No offense taken. She and I were only a year apart in age.”

Illya glanced over the shoulder of his dance partner to where they stood, already talking as if they were old friends who had met again unexpectedly. He wondered for a moment just how many in the ballroom were like them and would still be wearing masks even after the outer masks were removed.