. ¸ . ✩ ‘ The stars are so bright tonight. ’ The queen whispers from the balcony, her delicate silver a glow in the velvety midnight. There is a special hush to the evening, one filled to the brim with expectation. Gone is the fine dress whispering silk to marble, gone is the scepter and crown. Humans delight in the pleasure of being some one else, to hide beneath masks and mirrors:
But she would steal away - - to be herself.
One day a year.
One day to slip from crystalline walls, to the old shrine grounds, before the mask of formal royalty must dull her eyes. She shifts her yukata, adjusting the obi a final time, graceful fingers pressing the stars hairpin deeper into her long alabaster hair.