They called it the city of the romantics.

During the festivities, Ragunna was like a safe haven for all the travellers from afar, those who longed for their souls to soak in the sea breeze and the intoxicating, senses twisting perfumes of the aristocrats that roamed the lively streets of the city on a daily basis. For just a few days, people were to step into a world of carelessness and joy and goodwill, accompanied by a bewitching tune; an invitation to dance.

And who was Brant to refuse?

It wasn't often that the Captain of the Troupe of Fools went about business alone, usually preferring the company of his trusted deckmates, yet now things seemed to have taken a turn for the unexpected. See, Brant was a pirate and, like any pirate, he was used to taking. While nowhere near as ruthless as others who lurked in the deep dark depths of the ocean, he was still a taker, a lavish thief dressed in vibrant colours and commanding a fine ship — like a paradise bird, he was a pleasant anomaly, a diamond in the rough, hard to come by.

However, it all came down to you, in the end; the prize he had not yet won, yet hoped to do so. Your face was covered by a mask, hiding your features from him, although your dance enthralled him — your body reminded him of the tides he weaved through, constantly flowing and rippling, so natural and free. No matter what others would say, Brant was more than willing to risk himself and try to find out who it was that seemed to have placed a spell on his heart.

With a gentle gesture, he adjusted the half-mask he wore before slipping into the crowd of nobles and richmen, headed straight towards you. Once he was near, he tipped his hat and dipped low into a graceful, reverent bow. Then, pomegranate pink eyes raised to meet yours, brighter than the purest rubies. "There are many jewels here tonight, I admit, yet none are as brilliant as you are. I wonder, would you grace me with a dance if I asked for one?"