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  • Beqanna

    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]
    #21

    He has no business looking as good in that suit as he does, she thinks, her body practically singing beneath his touch. For a moment, the rest of the room melts away and it’s just the two of them. She leans into him, hand on his arm, her head tilted back so that she can see him. She has no idea what she has done to deserve someone like him, but her stomach flutters with the joy of it.

    At his smirk, she blushes just slightly, dipping her chin down and tucking her hair behind her ear.

    Which is, of course, when the rest of the world comes screaming back into reality.

    She can practically feel the anger swell in him, twisting like a living thing. It responds to stimulus both real and imagined, and she knows how it rests just below the surface, aching for release. She can feel him stiffen, feel him lift his chin, and she knows in her heart that he’s no longer with her—not fully. He swoops her behind him but she keeps her hands on him, holding onto his his arm, his waist, whatever it is that she can to remind him that she’s still here. Whatever she can do to ground him.

    But he’s swept into the passion of the moment, loosening his tie, unbuttoning his jacket.

    She curls under his arm and in front of him, hands splaying out across his wide chest.

    “Vulgaris,” his name is sweet on her tongue, her hazel eyes expressive as she turns to address the red haired boy who had seemingly set her partner off, whether by mistake or not. Which is when Leilan throws his drink. It catches her in the face and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she coughs.

    They should have stayed home.

    Whatever alcohol that had once been in his cup now drips down the front of her, the ends of her curled hair going limp, her eyes burning slightly. She reaches up to slide the mask off her face, dropping it to the floor before she wipes her face with her palms—grateful that she wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup.

    “It’s fine, it’s fine,” she murmurs to Vulgaris, hoping to get ahead of his reaction. She blinks again, taking the alcohol on the corner of her mouth, and looks toward the boy, laughing under her breath. “Well, it’s going to be a hell of a time keeping him in check now,” she watches as he raises the glass, beginning to disappear into the crowd when the older gentlemen walks up toward the group of them.

    She reaches for Vulgaris’ hand, hoping to find and squeeze it.

    They really should have stayed home.

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



    @[vulgaris] @[Leilan] @[Arthas]

    ain't no party like a beqanna party
    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity
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    #22
    A casual look of disappointment flashes over Rey’s cherry-bombs lips. She preferred the cat mask to whatever the woman had on underneath. It hid a rather obtruse forehead.

    “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink there, darling.” Rey scoffs, flicking her fingers towards the rough couple as if she could brush their lower-class status free from her hands. What she’d stolen was money, cold hard cash, and directly from the pocket of the poor bloke kitty-cat’s beau had shoved. Tough luck rested on her accuser tonight, though. Rey had stashed the nick somewhere not even God himself might find it, search high and low. “And if you’d like a strip show, that’ll cost you.” She winked, patting her coiffed hair back into place.

    Without so much as a second glance, she glides away.

    To her side there seems to be another tussle; twins dressed alike but altogether impossibly different in age seem to be in an altercation with another male, clearly overcompensating, for his date’s approval. As the girl attempts to calm the situation, Rey eases into the scene herself, arm twining over the bicep of the elder gentlemen in maroon. “There’s too much party left for a brawl this early. Don’t you agree?”

    Her gray eyes flashing, she arches her chin up to where Arthas stares down Vulgaris.


    Meanwhile, bane was enjoying the solid five seconds of his mystery date’s embrace. He rather enjoyed the way his hands could cup the soft curve of her hips, just a hair away from suggestive, and that she seemed to like the way their chests pressed flush against one another. Her corset-style ensemble felt stiff and yet smooth; it was easy to tell quality from cheap whenever Wolfbane’s fingers were involved. Perhaps the best part was the woman who fitted it, though. Her nose was shy but held character, a sweet cupid’s bow pulling her lush mouth almost into a pout. The chin and apple-round cheeks that supported dashing, warm brown eyes only slightly belied the angelic shape uncompleted by her mask.

    He felt on the verge of a revelation.
    Of course the rest of them had to ruin the moment.

    The tall gent in the navy suit felt her hand grasp his own, and with little to no protest her followed behind the rushing sound of her skirts and clicking heels. Her curvaceous form, proportioned like Aphrodite herself, slipped eagerly through a throng of people and though Bane himself couldn’t squeeze through without a few mishaps, he marveled at the way she commanded herself and those around her with silent approval. “This one could lead me to hell.” He mused quietly, a grin pulling at his lips behind the mask when she forces them behind a heavy, velour curtain and out into an abandoned patio.

    Still tethered to her grip, Bane swings deftly around to face the masked goddess and extends one of his suited arms, palm resting on the stone beside her dark-framed face. “Parties usually have lots of those.” He chuckles lowly, unsure if she’s aware that he caught the remnants of her grand speech while standing in line for coat check. Why the party if people were the problem?

    He’s not looking for a fight though, not here - not with her. There’s a complete resonance of familiarity rolling in waves off this dame, and there’s nothing more Wolfbane enjoys than breaking a curiously wonderful puzzle. A spat, silly or not, would draw away from that attention. “I’m more than inclined to tell you about it, too,” Bane replies to her prodding statement, his free hand rising to slide up her hip and rest at the small of her waist, “but this damn thing …” He points to the gilded monstrosity covering his face.

    For a second it looks like he’s pondering, the mixed olive hue of his eyes roaming over the soft waves of her hair. Inspiration strikes him, and he finds her intense stare again. “Do me a solid, take it off?” Her mystery companion offers, the glint of a mischievousness sparkling at the edge of his vision.

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    @[Heartfire] @[Arthas] @[Breckin] Big Grin
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
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