Snow. It was only fitting.<br/><br/>As the houses filtered through the open doors in slow procession, the Valerian Dowayne watched from behind the eye-slits of his own mask. Perfect as ever, the white marble of Cereus and the flakes that danced around them were a fitting match for those that fell outside the walls and still clung to the adepts' hair and flesh and fabric from their shortish stroll across the lighted lanes of Mont Nuit. The doves went first, fluttering in the white dresses that clung to their physiques and yet changed them into something more worthy of nature -- the feathers, the flowing silks, the makeshift wings, they all ran into the open dance hall, running one after another with laughter in their lips and eyes.<br/><br/>The hind followed, cantering after them with white horns, soft suede and fluffy tails, joining the merriment with a shout for 'Joie.' After them came the rest of the menagerie, different animals all from the timid rabbits to the fleeting hares mixed with larger prey; all running in to join the festivities. Among them, Yves ran as well. The stark white of his costume covered much of his marque, as much as it did the white trace of scars on his flesh yet without doing so entirely. His already wide shoulders looked even wider under the cover of thick fur, a theme that followed down arms to hook up on hands that bear long, hooked metal claws -- the kind of masterpiece that must have taken a silversmith a year or more to complete.<br/><br/>Mandrake soared in right behind in pursuit of the yielding House, blacks and browns in stark contrast with the ones before. Predators after prey, they stalked into the room proudly, seeking to match each other as they ducked and wove through the crowds. Here a wolf caught a hind, leaving four red streaks across the white of her dress and claiming a kiss from it before they separated again, laughing and fading into the background. There a hawk and a dove played a quick pursuit game, flying between two archways and around until the one was caught and fell to the ground in a graceful sprawl. The scenes continued here and there, and odds were they would do so through the night. If the Dowayne himself had a stalker of his own, there was no sign of it quite yet because he simply moved through the crowd and claimed his first glass of joie as he turned to watch both the next entrance and those around him. A lift of his glass rose toward the nearby Leocadie, the mouthed 'Joy' more seen than heard in the din of laughter that took over when one of the orchis' adepts attempted to mount a horse and got himself promptly unseated.<br/>