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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  You are cordially invited [Any & All]
    #1
    You are cordially invited to the first ever Grey Cove Foundation's 
    Masquerade Ball
    This is a black tie affair, so gents a suit is a must, and ladies, bring your best gown.
    And don't forget to find a mask and wear it well,
    so your true identity no one can tell.



    Running her hand along the mahogany banister, she dragged her matte black nails lightly over the veneer, making a dull scraping sound as she passed that likely no other ears could hear but her own.  The music was loud, the lights low, and the floor filled with abundant bodies mingling and eager to begin the night.  Pausing at the end of the grand ballroom, she leaned slightly over the railing of the upper-level balcony, feeling the cool press of wrought iron filigree against the thin material of her dress.  The corners of her red stained lips turned up into a coy grin, dark eyes sweeping the lower level in a quiet appraisal of the ones that couldn't resist the temptation of an elaborate gathering; no matter how high the price of admission.  There were those too, of course, that she had invited of the lower classes, and perhaps some arguably unsavory characters as well.  For them, however, there had been no charge of admittance; her attempt to get a variety of people under one roof for a night.  Tonight's purpose was to gather various wakes of people under one roof, encouraging them to mingle beneath veils of false illusions, personas that were entirely made up, to watch them interact and mingle and see what might come of it all.  Perhaps their truths would surface, perhaps they would remain well hidden.  

    But that was the fun of it all, no?

    With a flick of her wrist, the queue motions the DJ to silence the music, causing mildly confused looks to ensue from the partygoers beneath her.  Easily predictable, their glances scatter, looking about for the reason for the painful lack of rhythm the room now held.  Patiently, she waits for their gazes to begin to move upward with soft murmurs to accompany, and the silly little grin she wears slowly broadens to a dazzling smile.  One by one, their attention lands on the ebony haired woman on the second tier,  her corset dress of ruby and black, her hair a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and the masque she wears upon her face an intricate design of sparkles and swirls.

    "Bienvenue, my friends to the first ever Grey Cove Foundation's Masquerade Ball!"  Grey Cove Foundation?  Yeah, it didn't exist--she had made that shit up.  She'd most likely pocket a small funding of the benefit money for her group before anonymously donating the rest to a worthy charity tomorrow.  Nevermind where she had acquired the means to fund this elaborate affair either.

    "I am the Mistress of Ceremonies, or you may call me Emcee for your shortened convenience.  You may be wondering to yourself 'What ceremonies is she referring to?' but allow me to tell you that aside from eating, drinking, dancing and some wicked revelry, there are none."  At this she pauses and shrugs nonchalantly, "But let's be honest, what more could you really want for a promising Saturday night?"

    "Remember my friends, your identities are your own tonight unless you choose to divulge them to your fellow comrades.  Otherwise, wear your mask proudly, pick a different name for yourself, and chase your deepest desire filled doings, or undoings."  Pausing, she raises the crystal glass of neat bourbon that suddenly appeared in her hand, her smile turning mischievous,  "Because only the Devil can judge us tonight."  Turning up the glass, she swallows the smooth burn before raising it once more in a mock salute.  Another signal and the music begins again as she moves away from the railing.  Laughing quietly to herself in practically giddy excitement, she begins her descent down the staircase into the throng of moving bodies.

    A night of observation, of gathering information, of experimentation, and maybe a little self-participation on her part, if given the right opportunity... 


    OOC: So basically irl I've been in party planning mode and thought that a masquerade ball in human pony world might be fun.  Also thought it would be fun for them to have the opportunity to keep their identities concealed and see what happens.  Or feel free to go ahead and tell people who they are.  Breckin gave the bouncers very strict orders to adhere to, so wearing masks are a must to get in! ;]

    Her Dress
    Her Mask
    The Place
    Reply
    #2
    Grey Cove?

    Grey Cove Foundation, she says. Either it’s as new as the day or it’s made up, but frankly, that’s about all he hears about the speech. That and the introduction as ‘M.C., Mistress of Ceremonies’. His blue eyes scan the crowd below, searching the people. Most are unrecognizable at first glance, just as he - but to be honest he knows that they will give themselves away soon. He’s always watching for the details, like Emcee’s black nails being matte, not shining black, or the way she trails the railing. His mind nagging that it might be familiar, the ways she trails her hands, but it might as well be a habit shared with someone he knows, and doesn’t have to mean anything. Does it?

    His mind is pulled back into the festivities when she moves. His position on the other side of the balcony (something to do with one of the servant girls allowing him a peek at the garden from up here, though he fully well knows she had hoped to have him peek at something more - but the night is early, and she’ll have to be more patient like everybody else) is no good now that the party is down there; he considers making a more dramatic entrance by swinging his legs over the balcony and sliding down a curtain, but figures with everybody down there being not-drunk-enough he will notbe caught so well.

    So he is forced to take the walk down the other stairs, as quick as he can. Grabbing a glass from somewhere, he mixes with the crowd easily in his suit and mask, although he fully well knows his copper hair is a dead giveaway in the end. Who knows who’ll notice. Recognize. For once, the tables will be turned on him, so he has to pretend to behave.

    For now.



    Will fix links later
    one golden dragon mask https://nl.pinterest.com/pin/180003316329930685/
    one wine red suit https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ff/61/be/...99c1a1.jpg

    And I guess redhead should do it for now for you Wink
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
    |
    Reply
    #3

    DISCLAIMER:: SKIP DIS ONE IF YOU DISLIKE CURSING. HE CAN'T HELP IT. KTHANKS



    dovev

    He'd been lounging there sideways in the arm chair, feet over the opposite armrest, fuckin watching her work for what seemed like forever already, with her head bent as she figured shit out that was way beyond his grasp - or he was too disinterested to give a damn. Either way.

    Another few ticks on that damn clock and he threw the stupid squishy stress ball as hard as he could right passed her ear to THUNK against the wall and bounce right off back into his hand.

    She was irritated, of course. Wasn't that always his goal? She's hot when she's pissed, who could blame him? So he grinned at her when she turned around to glare at him, those sexy sharp eyes of hers. Naturally, she quipped something snarky or clever or -- I mean, he wasn't even listening, but he was sure it was one of those.

    He leapt up and strolled over, laid his hands on her shoulders with a few nice squeezes and lowered his voice all sexy soft, lowered his mouth near her ear. "C'mon, babe, you're always workin too hard. Let's get the fuck outta here and have some fun." Mmm, okay so he couldn't help that his mouth lowered a little more, hovering so damn close to her neck. God, that'd be nice to kiss, but he'd probably die. Meaning she'd kill him. And yeah, yeah. He knew she wasn't his babe or anything, but fuck, she's the closest damn thing he's got so whatever. Plus, she's totally fuckin hot.

    Anyway.

    So he dragged her ass out. Didn't even tell her where they were going. Maybe she knew somehow anyway, she's a bit tricky like that, but either way he stopped them at the giant doors to a giant castle. Or maybe it was a house. It was like a castle-house or some shit. Super fuckin huge.

    Yeah, but right. So they got there and he pulled out masks. Well, she'd already gotten one on over eyes, cute damn thing too but he wasn't gonna tell her that. He pulled out the two he got, half ski-mask-type things, slid behind her and strapped it on over her mouth before she could bitch at him for it or question any of it.

    All she got from him next was a flash of teeth behind a half-cocked grin before he disappeared behind his own mask. It covered his mouth too, of course, and both of them were just flat black, his shining black eyes still clearly on display. He tipped his chin at her mouth, "Leave that on." Then he snatched her hand and lead them inside, pushed them through the crowd of idiots.

    He found a fairly spacious spot and paused, surveying the gig. What the fuck was this music, anyway? He grimaced, let his eyes make a full circle before they landed on Heartfire again with a slow, wicked smirk, glittering eyes giving him away.

    "This place is shit, babe. C'mon. We gonna fix it."

    And with one goal in mind, he clutched her hand and made a bee-line for it.

    Ughhhh, but he stopped them when the music died, sharp eyes flying right to the culprit above them. And man, he thought his Dagger had a stick up her ass. She ain't got a damn thing on that bitch up there. She needed to get laid ten years ago, fuck. I mean, he could help her out, but he's a little busy with his gorgeous Dagger just then.

    But he listened through it. As she droned on.
    And on.

    And omfg on and on.

    Yeah, fuck this.

    He clung to his babe's hand and dragged her forward again.

    Straight for the DJ. And what timing! He was alerted to hit it up again by MissQueenlyStickUpHerAss up there. Dov leaned over the guy's setup, slipping (a lot of) money to him and telling him what he needed to know.

    "And play it LOUD. I'm fuckin serious, turn that shit UP!" -- click

    Dovev grinned over his shoulder at Heartfire, eyes smiling in that way they do, dimples hiding behind his mask but she'd seen them plenty of times already. He stopped short, jerked her up against him and touched her cheek, eyes softening on her. He leaned in, whispered, "We gonna fix it. Let's bring the fuckin party, babe." And his hand at her cheek flipped her mask on so the LEDs lit up bright, wicked sexy cat whiskers and mouth lighting across hers. -- click

    His eyes fell to check out the handiwork, black eyes dancing, then his head tipped back with a rich laugh. So fuckin perfect! He clicked his on too, mouth full of fangs flaring to life, tapped her cute nose and lead her out to dance.

    And he wasn't givin' up her hand either.

    Instead, he got them started, body rolling with the music, a few times in one direction, nice and smoooooth. Then he shifted his weight and did the other direction, eyes on Heartfire the whole time, damn determined to get her to dance with him. What? She's fuckin hot.

    You know what.
    This shit gets so much better.

    He paused again, dropped her hand just long enough to cup his hands around his mouth and shout "FLASH MOB!!!!" Just as he did, some tall, slender guy in a lavender suit and  stark-white wings landed beside him with the whitest damn smile, seriously. Whitest damn hair too, all tousled kinda like Dov's black hair, and laughing grey eyes.

    Hahaha, then the kid was rolling to it right next to him. Hell yeah! That's much better!
    Mission accomplished.
    Flash mob.

    He claimed Heartfire's hand again and kept that party goin with the hottest chick there. Or the only one he was lookin at, anyway. But same thing.


    we're slaves to any semblance of touch

    Lord, we should quit but we love it too much


    Reply
    #4

    Her attention is fixed entirely on the document in front of her, pen flicking occasionally as she makes notes along the margins, when the stress ball whizzes past her ear. Jerking upright, she whips around to glare narrow-eyed at the culprit behind her. Dovev is lounging sideways in the chair, smirk curling his lips. “You know, one of these days, I really am going to kick you out.”

    Why had she invited him to stay in the first place? Clearly she had been ill. Or drunk. Or somehow otherwise impaired.

    She has barely turned back to her papers when his hands are squeezing her shoulders. Stiffening, she does her best to ignore his lips hovering far too close to her neck (even if part of her did faintly hope he would forgo common sense). But her own common sense forces her to mutter admonishingly, “Don’t you dare.”

    In spite of all her sense however, she somehow finds herself leaving the house with him. How he had convinced her to go, she’s not entirely sure. And damnit! He had stolen her invitation. She hadn’t actually planned on attending the silly (and entirely fake, as her sources have it) event, but here she is, attending.

    Even so, she had dressed for it. She couldn’t very well arrive underdressed, after all, no matter how unwilling her attendance is. The long white dress hugs her slim frame perfectly, a thigh-length slit revealing one shapely leg. The modest neckline, made much less prim by the lacy cut-out that reveals her decolletage, circles her throat. Her mask is a lovely one of white and gold with sharp little horns rising above her eyebrows, framed perfectly by curly red hair swept into a loose updo.

    Dovev being Dovev however, disregards propriety entirely. He pulls her to a halt before they reach the door, whipping out a pair of masks from gods know where, wicked grin lighting his features.

    “Oh hell no,” she begins in an irritated exclamation, fingers flying up to grasp his forearm as he tugs the plain black mask over her eyes. Her struggle is only half hearted, but the mask does nothing to hide her scowl at his scold to leave it on. Leaning forward, her fingers moving to lightly stroke his jawline, she whispers, “You owe me big time if I do.”

    Lips quirking into a faint smirk, she readjusts his collar before stepping back, features settling into their icy calm once more. Once his mask is secured, she allows him to sweep her into the dim confines of the massive ballroom.

    He barely pauses when the woman atop the staircase commands their attention, his impatience obvious as she speaks. Heartfire, of course, does not actually need to have eyes on her to see. A particular skill of hers. As he drags her towards the DJ, she sighs softly, long suffering as he makes his demands of the music. She tries not to notice that mischievous smile of his. She knows him well enough by now to know it cannot mean anything good. Or rather, it cannot meaning anything she would actually appreciate.

    As he pulls her against him, her hands come up automatically to land on his chest, ensuring he leaves at least some space between them. His breath whispering against her ear causes shivers to race along her spine, but his words bring a frown to her lips. You’re the one who’s insisting on a party,” she grumbles back, before admonishing, a bit more loudly, “And quit calling me babe.”

    She blinks momentarily when he flicks the masks on before pausing to stare at the teeth flashing across his face. Damn did she wish she could see what he’d chosen for her. A second later and a peek through his eyes, she sees her own face, completely hidden by a cat mask flashing as brightly as his demon teeth.

    Could’ve been worse, she supposes.

    But then he’s dancing, eyes fixed upon her as he rolls with the music. Staring back, she scowls. It’s not like he’s leaving her much of a choice, unless she wants to look entirely foolish. (Excuses, excuses, but she needs them).

    Eyebrows winging upwards at his sudden shout, she watches in faint amusement as he proceeds to dance in tandem with some young punk that apparently wants to look just as ridiculous as Dovev.

    Despite her derisive thoughts, she doesn’t resist when he pulls her in again. Instead she sighs before stretching her arms up to curl around his neck as she moves in time to the music with him. “You better find me some damned alcohol so I don’t have to remember I did this.”

    i see your sins
    and i want to set them free



    Her dress: https://sassydresses.ie/wp-content/uploa...1218-2.jpg
    Her mask before Dov hijacks it :| https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/...UX562_.jpg
    Reply
    #5

    She fidgets at her dress, uncomfortable with whatever Exist has found and pushed her into. She preferred jeans and a sweater, something comfortable, something functional, and something warm. Instead, she found herself standing on the lawn of a massive estate. She smoothed her palms down the crimson of her dress, smoothing it absent-mindedly, before reaching up to curls the edges of her golden hair between her slim fingers. As soon as she realized the tick, she dropped her hands, flexing her fingers and drawing in a steady breath.

    She could do this.

    Of course she could do this.

    For all intents and purposes, she looked the part of partygoer, although she was not dressed quite as loud as some of those she saw milling. Her dress was quality and fitted but simple, the fabric nipping in at the waist and flowing outward. The bands of it hung loosely off her shoulders, the neckline sweet and modest. Her hair was done in loose curls, framing a face free of makeup, her hazel eyes wide behind a simple mask of lace and ribbon.

    She held onto a black clutch, knuckles white as she gripped it.

    Vulgaris, should be here, but she didn’t know if he would actually agree to come. If he would bother with something admittedly a little whimsical and beautiful and unnecessary. After all, he was a man with a lot of responsibilities. A lot of duties. And that didn’t include parties.

    Especially one she wasn’t even sure she wanted to go to in the first place.

    But, regardless, she is here, and although the idea of stepping inside alone is enough to make her throat dry, she lifts her chin. Reaching down to lift the edge of her dress, she makes her way up the stairs, the muscles in her jaw rippling as she clenched her teeth.

    She’d stay for one drink.

    Just one.

    She walked in just as the announcement was being made and she gratefully took a glass of champagne as it was handed to her. The bubbles both smoothed the fluttering edges of her anxiety and coaxed them further, but she took another sip, raising it politely at the toast.

    When the words faded away and the music began to swell the room, she heard a shout. It was muffled enough that she couldn’t make out exactly who it was but she felt the music swell and the energy of the room take on a distinct new turn. One corner of her mouth lifted into a smile, soothes by the sudden appearance of the rambunctious crowd, and she made her way to the wall where she could watch as the crowds began to mingle together.

    When she finally reached a pocket of silence, she placed her clutch onto a table, drinking another sip of champagne and settled in to watch, her eyes continually sliding toward the doors, looking for a familiar figure.

    it started with a perfect kiss, then we could feel the poison set in



    Look idk. I had muse for this and then Dov / Heartfire showed up and here we are.

    @[vulgaris], it would be amazing if you felt musey for this but zero pressure.

    She just couldn’t help looking for him. =P
    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity
    Reply
    #6


    “You’re shitting me, right?”

    Bane smiled, taking in every inch of the slender ash-blonde who stood in disbelief with her arms crossed. “It’s great on gas.” He shrugged, glancing away from the dolled-up woman and down to the sleek, matte-black bike that leaned against the sidewalk.

    “Are you blind? Do you have any idea how much this outfit cost me?” Rey admonished, flicking a set of stone-gray eyes in his direction. “There’s no way in hell I’m getting on that thing - not dressed up like this.” She scoffed, gesturing to the impossibly tight number that accentuated every one of her curves perfectly. Her escort rolled his own eyes, “Unless you have a better id-” Bane started, unable to finish because the flourish of Rey’s hand towards his face was a silent Shut the f up. She fished a tiny remote from her matching clutch and clicked it once; across the street and two cars down a beast roared to life.

    The unmasked man in the navy suit couldn’t blame her shushing him. “A Mclaren? Damn …” He whistled appreciatively, swiping the key deftly from the air as she tossed it to him, the pair making their way down to where the slick, red beauty waited. “Your cut from the last swipe was a helluva lot larger than mine.” He grumbled, opening the passenger door to let her slide gracefully in.

    “It’s a loaner. From a ‘friend’.” Rey huffed airily as he slipped into the driver’s seat beside her, “So don’t fucking scratch it.” She warned him once, popping open a slim mirror to adjust her makeup. Her companion laughed good-naturedly, buckled himself in, and peeled off into the waiting night.

    They’d hit the highway, glaring beams of false light blinking in the reflective panes of the tinted windows, before Rey turned to glance at the impossibly handsome thief who’d helped her make a killing at their last event. “Don’t take any offense to this, but your mask sucks.” She said, pulling the faux-golden item gently from where it rested on his brow. Its design was intended to cover every part of the face but the eyes, while hers was standard masquerade style: feathers and gilded swirls. “Yea, I don’t exactly have your taste for all things appropriate.” He replied, gliding smoothly off an exit and into the upscale outskirts of town. “Besides it’s our last gig, remember? I wanted something … memorable.” He smirked.

    “Just don’t forget what we’re going for,” Rey sighed, “the benefit money. Big cash, not bookworms.” She reiterated. “We make a good team but after tonight, I never want to see your face again.” The pale beauty smiled, placing his mask into the curve of his lap. Wolfbane chuckled, one diamond-studded earlobe twinkling with the motion. “Jealous much?”

    Rey gagged.

    The engine of their car gave a nice purr as they edged into the drive, caught behind a few cars already but making it to the valet in enough time to donn their disguises. Hidden, they made a charming couple, Rey’s porcelain hand resting lightly atop Bane’s rough, tattooed fingers as he led her into the fray. The music struck up a wild beat as they drifted towards coat check. Having nothing to stow away himself, Bane’s multi-ringed fingers tugged at the nape of his dark dress suit, where a stiff collar did a piss poor job of covering the wings etched into his skin. At least his date had gone all out - dyed hair, different attitude, even a fake ID.

    He just assumed the odds of someone from that first party being here were slim to none. “Shall we dance, have a look around?” Rey’s smooth voice piped up beside him, one of her slender arms twisting through his own. “Allow me.” He answered with a flourishing bow, following behind until they were wrapped together on the ballroom floor, swirling easily with the hours of practice they’d put in beforehand. Tonight was huge, too big an opportunity to mess up, and they’d come with their A-game and stomach’s hungry for recompense in the form of grand larceny.

    Now all they had to do was pinpoint the source of the cash flow.

    OOC: Both are here and open to anyone Wink
    Reply
    #7
    Vulgaris
    "  when she's coming for my heart it feels like armageddon. "

    Your money is on the table.

    The old Italian man helps him with his cufflinks and mutters something that Vulgaris does not understand. He almost flinches when the barber pats his face lovingly but he refrains and instead offers a shrug as he dismisses the excited thanks he receives.

    You’re the only barber who makes house calls anymore. I should be thanking you,” he says as he wipes the last of the aftershave from his face. Then the man is speaking more hurried words before showing himself to the door, being sure to close it as gently as possible so as not to disturb his client. A slow sigh eases from his lungs before he adjusts his tie. His phone has gone off twenty-seven times and he can only assume his own clientele are eager for answers regarding their accounts but he just can’t be bothered at the moment. Besides, that’s what assistants are for. Tonight has been set aside for Leliana and he blacked out the whole day for her two months ago.

    He slips on black leather gloves before sliding behind the wheel of his car and heading to the venue. Without a girlfriend pleading for him to drive like a sane human being, he takes curves however he pleases and wonders what speed he would have to be going to get the car airborne down these steep hills. But the building comes into sight too soon and he’s frowning slightly as he pulls up to the valet. There’s a scowl on his face as he hands the keys to the young boy whose vest isn’t even tailored to fit him. His own is tailored precisely to his measurements, boasting his broad shoulders and proud chest while maintaining a certain level of sleek elegance to it. The tie around his neck is silk and just a bright enough red to distract from his busted knuckles when he removes his driving gloves. The valet boy swallows nervously and leaves to park the matte black car.

    Vulgaris had entertained the thought of covering up his neck tattoos and wearing a mask to fully immerse himself into the masquerade. In the end, however, he supposed he was always wearing a mask anyway. His eyes burn through the crowd without much concern as to which of his clients (or ex-wives) are here. They can eat shit after all the money he’s earned them this year alone. They all might as well be invisible the way he looks right through them, the way his eyes seem to stare into someone he hates far ahead of this moment.

    Until he spots her.

    Then, he’s weaving through the crowd a whole head taller than most. The corner of his lip still has dried blood from the last fight he got into but it looks better than yesterday, than the night he came home drunk and still declaring his victory to the neighbors. Leliana never asked why he slipped out of bed in the middle of the night or how he got into these fights and maybe that’s why he loves her. She doesn’t follow him into dirty basements where he beats men to a pulp for the thrill of it like one of his former wives had. Leli just holds him and cleans the wounds every time, listens to his shitfaced love poems and tries to kiss him holy.

    In the dull roar of the music, he is silent as he slinks up behind her and presses tight against her back. His hands slide along the curves of her body unabashed, hungry for her touch as he always is. His lips find the crook of her neck and he plants delicate kisses all along her skin as he breathes in the perfume she’s wearing. It’s probably something he can’t pronounce but words aren’t his thing anyway.

    I left my lair just like you asked. Now maybe you can reconsider my request?” he asks against her ear before laughing crudely. He releases her hips finally and steps in front of her to offer his arm for her to hold on to. This benefit may be a sham but there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep her happy.
    @[leliana]
    Reply
    #8
    Right or left, right or left, right or left.

    Hmmm.

    Her lips pout in quiet concentration, uncertain whether which side of the room looks more interesting than the other.  Lots of guys and girls on either side, looks like.  Pretty much boring on one side, maybe a tad more boring on the other.  Shrugging her shoulders casually, she takes aim for nearest bar, grabbing whatever drink the bartender had just placed on the granite counter while the intended recipient had their back turned.  Taking a sip, she audibly gags at the bitterly disgusting taste, placing the glass back down in its rightful spot on the counter.  Unbeknownst that the concoction had already been tampered with, the original patron grabs the drink and presses it into his lips for a hearty swig.  Dark eyes sparkle with disturbed amusement and she giggles viciously under her breath, continuing down the line of unattended drinks until one is found that tickles her fancy.

    God if only the poor bloke knew where my lips have been.

    With an okay-ish drink in hand, the garnet clad woman turns to scan the room again; there had been a silence and then a single voice talking, and then suddenly the rhythm of the music turned from ambient to head pounding.  Not that she didn’t mind vicious beats or anything; her body finds the rhythm easily enough and inadvertently starts swaying perfectly to the upbeats and drops.  For a quick second, the urge passes through her to jump in on the group now demanding everyone’s attention center stage with their limber body rolls and such.  But in that immediate moment, being in everyone’s direct line of vision is not particularly enticing.  No, not yet.  Start smaller scale maybe, more one-on-one.

    Catching a flash of red out of the deep corner of her roving eyes, she notices a fellow dressed neatly in a similar shade of red that snuggly wraps itself around her curves.  Interest piqued, the small smile working itself onto her ink stained lips blossoms into a wide grin, effectively changing her demeanor from observing to hunting.

    Turns out, she didn’t have to bother with much physical chase after all;  he had just turned her way after his hasty descent down the staircase nearby.  ”Nice suit,” she says loud enough for him to hear as he begins to pass her.  Taking sa mall sip of whatever the hell she was currently drinking, she watched him inquisitively through dark lashed eyes, wondering if he would stop.

    100% Jack

    @[Leilan] sooo I've wanted to see how Jack and Leilan would get along :| potentially entertaining
    Reply
    #9
    She hadn’t made it very far into the gathering when the music turns a bit more wicked.  It makes her pause with a mild look of questioning pressing into her features, and she turns to meet the eyes of a woman adorned in emerald across the way.  The woman nods in the direction of the DJ, Breckin follows the gesture towards the disc jockey who nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders as if it wasn’t his fault for the sudden ear blasting assault.  Dropping her gaze back to the green gowned woman, who stands somewhat more rigid as if awaiting orders, she shakes her head subtly in dissent.  She’d been expecting the party to turn more frat party/music festival at some point, but this early on? Not so much.  Tossing her head back and draining the last of her poison, she presses on into the crowd. 

    What the fuck ever.  As long as it didn’t cause people to leave early, she couldn’t find the want to care.  And still, she can’t control the entertained smile that creeps its way back to her ruby mouth.

    Each step she took brought her into the personal space of another stranger, saying hello and pressing false niceties into eagerly awaiting ears.  Again, the means to care about such things were becoming tiresomely fleeting.  And the weight of the growing number of bodies was baring down on her nerves—she’d have to find a minor reprieve soon to re-center herself.  Give it time, she reminded herself, the heavier handed the drinking became and the older the night grew, it was highly likely the party-goers would eventually forget about their hostess and branch off to do God knows what.  It would take some lacking patience., but she didn’t doubt sometime soon she’d be able to wither back into some privacy.  For now she would just have to suffer and keep up false pretenses for the majority.

    ”You make it look so damn easy,” she says silkily to the duo so easily finding the rhythm of the music that moves them.  She’d been about to walk past them when the gent’s unique mask struck a chord of her curiosity.  There’s an obvious amusement held in her dark eyes as she shifts her attention from the impeccably dressed beauty in his arms and back up towards his concealed face.  The obstructed lines of a tattoo just visible above his neckline catch her lingering gaze before she is able to refocus on the gold of his mask.  ”A bit unconventional, don’t you think?” she questions in regards to his choice of head gear, as her smile grows cheekier with each ticking second.

    @[Wolfbane] or @[Rey] not sure who you'd prefer be tagged XP
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    #10

    This was silly, she thinks, as the music swells and the crowds begin to mill about.

    She never should have come here. Never let her twin force her to wear this ridiculous dress. Never taken an Uber to a party where the lot had been full of Italian makes and models. She presses her palm to the flat of her stomach and takes a steadying breath before reaching up and pinching her nose. She should be back home, curled up in her favorite pair of sweats with her well-worn copy of any given Jane Austen novel. Or, if she was being honest, she should have picked up that extra shift at the hospital. She knew they were short-staffed, and it’s not like she couldn’t use the extra cash. She knew Vulgaris had more than enough—not that she would ever dream of asking him where it came from—but she couldn’t bear to ask him for a penny. She would never want him to think that’s all she wanted from him.

    With a flick of her wrist, she finishes off the flute of champagne, setting it down on the table near her. She should just cut her losses and go, she thinks. She promised herself one drink, and that was it. But just as she was beginning to reach for her clutch, she feels him grab her and pull her close. She can’t help it, she feels the same flutter of butterflies she did the first time that she met him. She laughs, the sound lilting, as she twists into his arms, all of the anxiety melting away as she loops her arms around his neck, standing up on her toes to press a kiss against his full lips.

    “You made it,” her voice is breathy, hazel eyes shining from under the lace and the ribbon. They trail down to the blood dried on the corner of his mouth and she reaches up, running her thumb over and brushing it away. She knows that he has demons he doesn’t expose her to, sins that he doesn’t confess, and she doesn’t ask him to—not anymore. She is just grateful that hers is the bed that he crawls into most nights. That she is able to turn over and curl into his broad, battered chest, tracing constellations onto the paint-spattered bruises that run up and down his sides. She doesn’t ask what caused them. She doesn’t ask—even when she needs to get supplies from work to bandage him up, silently cleaning off the blood and wrapping his imposing figure in whatever gauze or ointment he needed this time.

    Still, she can’t hide the relief in her eyes that, for now at least, he doesn’t need such attention.

    At his question, she laughs, biting her lip as she takes a step away. “I don’t know. Maybe you need to remind me.” There is a twinkle in her eye as she reaches for his arm, her pale hand coming to rest on top as they swoop away from the table. “We don’t have to stay for long,” she leans over to whisper. “But maybe just one dance?”

    it started with a perfect kiss, then we could feel the poison set in



    @[vulgaris]

    not sure if we need to follow posting order so i'm just going for it. yolo.
    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity
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