F01-OP Blackbook, Grand Opening

[Oscar 0]

Rain.

On every Floor.

All at once.

Scraps of black paper, trimmed in gold filigree, etched in blood-red. Words written in with a sweeping hand, large swirls, cut deep into the dark cardstock. Invitations cascading down from on high, blocking out the sun for just a moment like darkened storm clouds.

Quote

 

You are cordially invited to a Masquerade Ball.
Tonight.
The Blackbook.

Orange Players may seek Ascalon outside of town for admittance.

 

The stunt worked. Players from all over filed into the building. The only price of admission? To accept a mask - black or white - at the door. Tables lined the walls, set with fine wine, champagne, and hors d'oeuvres. Enough to keep the night going, but not loud. Elegant, not overstated. The shadows were long, the room lit with a soft red glow. In the center was the dance floor. Dark tile, trimmed a glowing red. Oscar stood upon his perch - a balcony placed above it all. Already his desired outcome was taking effect. Masked patrons pairing off, intimately close. Taking to corners and sofas as the soft orchestral music filled the air.

There wasn’t so much chatter as murmurs. Whispers. Sweet nothings, sinful promises.

He could not help but smile at the outcome. It had rather been the point of it all.

Quote

 

Upon Entry to the thread, all Players obtain a Black <<Sinful Mask>> or a White <<Sainted Mask>>. There is no bearing here beyond cosmetic.
Players may choose to remain <<Unmasked>> or to don their mask and gain the <<Masked>> Status.
While <<Masked>>, your name and your cursor are hidden.

Stepping onto the Dance Floor while <<Masked>> applies the <<Dancing>> condition. <<Dancing>> Players are paired up at random and their partners switch every three posts. While it is perfectly acceptable to intuit who your partner is, please try to respect the theme and endeavor to maintain the necessary air of mystery.

Further events will take place throughout the evening, at random.

 

Spoiler

"Name: Oscar
True Tier: 11
Level: 35
Paragon Level: 72
HP: 1040/1040
EN: 136/136

Stats:
Damage: 24
Mitigation: 127
Accuracy: 3
Evasion: 1
Battle Healing: 57
Loot Die: 5
Stealth Rating: -5
AA 
PHASEVAMP-O: 172
REC: 4

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<Kyūketsuki>> T4 KATANA//ABS.ACC/PHASE/VAMP2 | 200925                                                                                        
Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<TACTICAL UNDER ARMOR>> T4 HEAVY ARMOR//MIT/MIT/MIT/REC
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<IVORY GOLD LEAF RING>> T1 TRINKET//ACC/ACC/EVA/EVA

Combat Mastery:
  - Combat Mastery: Damage R3

Combat Shift:
  - AOE Shift

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - squabble up. 

Skills:
  - Battle Healing R5
  - Energist
  - Extended Weight Limit
  - Fighting Spirit
  - Heavy Armor R5
  - Howl
  - Katana R5
  - Quick Change
  - Searching R5

Extra Skills:
  - Forgotten King's Authority
  - Meditation
  - Parry
  - Survival

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:
  - Ferocity
  - Focused Howl
  - Iron Skin
  - Precision
  - Reveal
  - Stamina

Mods:
  - Detect
  - Impetus
  - Night Vision
  - Tracking

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:
  - <<CRYSTAL OF DIVINE LIGHT>> ID: 236066 x1
  - <<DARK SERAPHIM>> T4 HEAVY ARMOR - VAMP.D2/HOLY BLESSING 2 x
  - <<DIVINE RANCOR>> T4 KATANA - HOLY/HOLY/PHASE/BLIGHT | 228663 x
  - <<GLOVES OF CAERUS>> T1 LIGHT ARMOR//3 LD x
  - <<IMUGI'S INSPIRATION>> MASS HEAL x
  - <<RHINO'S HORN>> ID: 236068 x
  - <<SANCTITY'S RUIN>> T4 KATANA - FROSTBITE/BLEED/BLIGHT/BURN | ID: 228657 x
  - <<TELEPORTATION CRYSTAL>> x
  - <<TIGER'S BALM>> ANTIDOTE x

Housing Buffs:
  - Basic Kitchen: Increase the effectiveness of a single food item consumed in a thread by +1 T1 slot. This can exceed normal Cook enhancement caps. Ex: A perfect T2 MIT food gives 35 MIT instead of 30.
  - Storage Closet: +1 Battle Ready Inventory Slot
  - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.
  - Attic (Bedroom): +1 Expertise to declared utility skill. Cannot boost a skill without ranks, or increase a skill past its maximum rank. Cannot boost a skill the user has not learned yet. Ranks obtained using this buff will make the mods of that rank available for purchase. Mods obtained this way are unusable if this buff is removed until the skill is returned to the appropriate rank by way of SP purchase.
  - Basement: Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll
  - Master Bedroom: -1 energy cost for the first three expenditures of each combat
  - Master Bathroom: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 25% (rounded down)
  - Extended Workshop: +2 Crafting EXP per crafting attempt and +1 crafting attempt per day
  - Ornate Fishing Pond: +2 Fishing EXP per Attempt and additional +1 LD & CD to fishing attempts.
  - Dining Hall: Turn 3 identical food items (same quality, tier, & enhancements) into a Feast. A Feast contains 6 portions of the food items sacrificed. Feasts created this way cannot be used outside of the thread they are created. Limit 1 item created per thread.

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:
  - Kumatetsu
Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:
"                                                                                                                            

 

[Mari 1]

*STILL WRITING GETTING THE DESCRIPTION OF THE PLACE*

A party? Really?

The idea of celebrations....with drinks and light banter didn't sit well with Mari. She had too much to do. She didn't have time to relax. Not to mention how difficult it would be to do so , with it being in the middle of a safe zone. Mari stood on the outskirts of the  main settlement - black scrap of paper in hand. Mari had to admit..when Oscar did shit like this, he went all out. Even the edges were gilded in gold. The writing, gold and embossed. Fancy. She couldn't help but offer the invitation a slight, weary smile. It was ....heartwarming to see. The amount of effort - the drive to make sure everyone here connected in ways that weren't fights, quests and meetings. "This...may be complicated." The woman said with a sigh.

Mari wasn't in a partying mood. She had just failed Redemption but a day ago. The only reason she would even attend such an event was because Oscar had asked her, rather he implied she needed it. You need to chill the fuck out and put the breaks on - or something like that. The woman was paraphrasing. Still... it was nigh impossible for Mari to say no to Oscar. Maybe it had something to do with their midnight dalliances in the past, or maybe it had something to do with the simple fact that he had a special place in her heart. So with a  tentative hand, she knocked on the small unassuming rock - apparently this was some sort of underground entrance to his -

The sound of stone scraping against stone distracted Mari - a rather dour looking man towered over her, casually leaning against the side of the hidden entrance. Dark eyes glanced up and down her form and he smirked, lips twisting into a crooked smile as he exhaled with a snort. "It's a formal event, Mari." 

"I'd rather change inside the tunnel." Mari commented, leaning to glance behind him. It looked like someone had quite literally dug it out - oil lanterns lined each side of the walls in even spaces. Oscar really did all of this? Mari stepped forward ready to move past the man but he shifted in front of her - blocking her path. "What?" She asked, tilting her head up at him. This was already proving to be too much.

"Formal event." He responded again, a mischievous note in his tone. He held a hand out to her, his nails painted black. "Ascalon, by the way." 

Mari sighed, she went to bat his hand away but Ascalon was too quick, he grasped her hand in his - swallowing it as he shook it. Mari pulled her hand away and opened up her inventory; finally donning the only formal outfit she owned. An orange dress with a slit up the middle. "Happy?" She muttered.

Ascalon whistled in approval, then stepped to the side, even offering her a small bow. "Excellent. This way." 
Mari stepped into the tunnel. A slam behind her caused Mari to jump, fingers tensed and ready to pull out her weapon. This did not go unnoticed by the tall man beside her. "You're safe here Mari."

Mari appreciated the sentiment, although she never felt truly safe. Not without Lancaster by her side. Still...Mari followed along a few paces behind Ascalon. He too held an orange marker above his head. Mari wondered how he had gotten it, but the question as to why was normally a social taboo. So she bookmarked it for later. He had a distinct scent of black pepper and cedar wood. He had his hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he walked. She could hear a faint jingle of metal and chains - from his jewellery. The man was a looker, but she had better waiting for her at home.  It was a shame that her husband would not attend such an event. Her mind wandered to a scene where they'd be sitting at a table, away from the crowds, wine glasses in hand - her head on his shoulder...a pleasant waltz playing in the background.

Foolish dreams..

"Just one more thing, before you arrive." Mari blinked, her attention falling back onto Ascalon. The man would tap her nose then offer her two options. A black mask in one hand, and a white in the other. Where the hell did he pull them from? Was she supposed to pick one? Mari looked up at the man, who simply offered her a smirk in return. Alright. Mari reached out and grabbed the black mask. "Aight." Ascalon turned and placed his hand on a large wine barrel behind him. With a small series of clicks itd open up to a larger room - The Blackbook.

"Enjoy yourself."

"You too, I guess?"

 

Mari nervously wrinkled the mask in her hand, eyes sweeping over the empty room. How was she always the first one to arrive at these sort of events? That was terrible. Maybe this was a terrible idea... Mari made a beeline toward the bar, carefully pulling herself up onto a barstool. Mari folded her dress underneath her. Should she put the mask on? She knew Oscar would chastise her if she didn't. So Mari tied the satin ribbon up behind her head. Once the mask was covering the upper part of her face a condition came up.

<<Masked>>
Your name and Cursor are hidden.
<<Dancing>> Players are paired up at random and their partners switch every three posts.

Dancing? Partners? Oh... HELL NO.

Mari quickly ripped the mask off and tossed it onto the bar. She was not comfortable with that. She'd have to apologize to Oscar later.

Mari signalled the bartender. "Uhm, do you have any Whiskey? Neat?"



NON COMBAT Mari | HP: 1160/1160 | EN: 148/148 | DMG: 21 | MIT:143 | ACC:4 | AA  | FL.AURA: 8 | BH:64 | BRN: 56 | ENV-O: 32 | PARA-V | LD:5  | True Tier 15                                                                                                                  

Edited 13 hours ago by Mari

[Artoria 0]

[UNMASKED]
— lvl 54 —

white birds. wings spread in flight.

she spots them decorating the back half of someone's neckpiece, a long silver-and-gray pearled chain that stops mid-spine, drawing the beholder's eye to the open split of their black shirt. a stray bright light amid the club's prevailing red glow had caught on the birds, she thinks, she forgets, lost in her observation, and it had blinded her for a moment and she had chased the afterimage to its source. they vanish after a glimpse. featureless revelers turn and sway in each others' arms.

had they turned around, they would have been wearing the white mask to match their birds. she's certain of it.

artoria is fascinated by anything that doesn't seem to mind presenting itself as prey. it's a consequence of having shaped herself into something of a counterpart — one that is currently dressed in east asian attire resembling a man's clothes, that doesn't care to filter the hard edge from her tone, that wears a black wolflike visage over her red eyes. at the moment, they all exist outside of polite society. if she forgets herself, or veers too close to the saccharine guise that the frontlines know, she attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. therefore, what must she think of someone who consciously does the opposite? are they asking to be hunted?

she searches for the dove again but they continue to elude her. perhaps someone's already laid their claim.

desire and concern are temporal. two empty seats from her, a woman rips off her mask with a disgust so palpable that it displaces artoria's attention. she recognizes her; they had talked before the last boss fight but... what about? were they interrupted?

she's uncomfortable with these gaps in her memories. she puts down her wineglass (intoxication blunted; she does not want a repeat of that morning with oscar) and waves at mari after she finishes speaking to the bartender. she sits up a little straighter when mari's bared face turns to her, and her hands reach up to untie her own mask.

"one moment..."

artoria sets the wolf mask down beside her drink. its hollowed eyes stare at her. "i hate to do this so early but i just could not get used to wearing it. i don't know how everyone else is dancing with these on." she props her elbows on the bar, lacing her fingers together, the corners of her lips raised in an amicable smile. "we talked before the last boss fight. i'm artoria. i joined the frontlines two floors ago."

mirroring her previously failed introduction, she does not extend her hand to shake. she'll tell her she's too busy covering her drink.

"you're the second orange-cursored frontliner i've encountered. i'm curious — have you ever met a pinball?"

Edited 13 hours ago by Pollux

[Mari 1]

With a glass of whiskey in hand Mari picked it up and stared at it, swirling the liquid slowly - sitting within the golden coloured ambrosia sat a perfectly clear, perfectly shaped sphere. The kind of party favours you'd only ever encounter in high class establishments. Vincent would get a kick outta this. Mari straightened her back and exhaled as she drew the glass to her lips and took a long sip.  This wasn't her favorite, Sullivans Cove. It was a little sweeter. Tasting of cinnamon. It warmed her throat, her belly...it'd be fine if she had a few drinks this evening. Right?

Mari would have been perfectly happy to sit on her own and people watch, but she was approached by another, who shifted to sit next to her at the bar.

The woman was wearing a rather ornate suit, dangling chains hanging from her belt loops, a silken white shirt adorned with pale patterns and a long jacket. Stunning. It was the first thought that came to Mari when she saw the other woman.  Despite the familiarity, Mari could not recall a name. "Ar...toria?" Mari repeated in thought as her cerulean eyes shifted back up to the woman's petite face. She thought she was mostly familiar with the frontliner names, but this one escaped her. Mari did recall her approaching, and introducing herself. But the name...escaped her. "Right... you asked if I was new. It wasn't my first raid. I fought a few bosses before but left. Honestly the frontlines...." Mari wouldn't go into detail. No use in douring what was meant to be a light hearted event. Instead she ended with a sigh and shook her head.

"Mari."  Came her slow and cautious response. It would do the woman no good to dwell on such things here, as Oscar said - she needed to slow down. Chill out. Not every person was out to get her. Not anymore. Mari couldn't assume that of everyone who approached her. Mari broke her gaze from the woman to shift it to her feathered mask, sitting on the bar beside her drink. Mari reached out to it and traced the curvature of its surface, pausing to rub a feather betwixt her thumb and forefinger. "I don't have an issue with the mask... its the ...." Her eyes flicked to the dance floor. "The dancing aspect of it. Truth be told, I ain't much of one - and if I were to dance with anyone. It'd be my partner. Not...some sconosciuto -sorry - stranger." She was hanging out with her man too long. Italian was becoming more and more part of her everyday speech. 

Mari offered the woman before her a small raise of her glass, a slight smile and tilt of her head. "I suppose if it were someone like you, I'd almost be tempted." A light-hearted and awkward attempt at a compliment to Artoria's appearance.

You're the second orange-cursored frontliner i've encountered. i'm curious — have you ever met a pinball?

She would choke on her drink, bringing the back of her hand up to her lips to wipe her mouth. "S-sorry what?" She didn't expect such a question. "Pinball? I....can't recall to be honest. A lot of my past is kinda hazy. But- I know people I trust speak well of him. Oscar, Freyd...Rai...personally, I got no issues with the lad." She admitted, perhaps a little too freely.   "Why? He a friend of yours?"

 

Edited 12 hours ago by Mari

[Acanthus 0]

She wasn’t sure how Oscar had made it rain, but she had learned to stop asking. He was strange enough, and flaunted the rules of Aincrad so often that Acanthus suspected he was part of the game itself. What other reason would he have to throw extravaganza after extravaganza? Assuming he needed a reason at all.

Acanthus held the paper warily. The last time she had attended one of his parties, she let herself get blackout drunk, and woke up to her membership in the Tracker’s Alliance guild. She’d gone from trying to kill Morningstar to taking orders from him. As soon as she learned how to navigate the menu and leave a guild, she would return to her solo life.

There was no way she could show her face at another large party, especially so soon after the last debacle. Then again, it was a masquerade ball. No face was required.

That’s stupid and you know it. People are going to see me walk in and put on a mask, and then just pretend that the drunk weirdo from the summer party isn’t stumbling around in her little dress and flats?

The next idea in her head felt so strange, and yet so perfect, that she couldn’t help but be intrigued by her own thoughts. What if we took the costume a little further? 

—--

Her goal was to be somebody else. Somebody that felt natural to emulate, but still so different that nobody but her closest friends could pick her out of a crowd, even without the mask.

Acanthus decided to start from the ground up. She'd been mistaken for a boy more than once with a cap on. (One old woman had been convinced she was a tourist and insisted on helping her back to the city center. She stopped wearing the cap after that.) It didn't help that she was a freak, as far as height was concerned. Her nature was a forgettable fact in Aincrad, a strange land where seemingly every person was at least 185 centimeters. But back home, she was an outlier, an unavoidable mark of shame Haru mitigated with a subconscious hunch. With her hair up and the right clothes, she was hardly a girl at all.

So she would lean into that ugliness. Slinking down to an NPC tailor on Floor 11 (because nobody goes to Floor 11), Acanthus purchased a number of different suits, favoring muted and warm colors. For the masquerade, she settled on a three-piece suit so black it seemed to draw in the surrounding light, a clean eggshell-white shirt, and a glossy blood-red tie. Acanthus liked the outfit because it somehow diverted and directed attention all at once. And while she may not care for the spotlight, the persona she was crafting probably would.

Pretending to be someone else is ridiculous. That nagging voice in the back of her head chided her. You're acting like an overimaginative child. Everyone is dressing up; it's normal to do that. What isn't normal is this level of pretend. It's unbecoming.

Acanthus drowned the doubts by imaging alternate usernames. She couldn't expect to fool people for long if she went through all this effort just to remain Acanthus. The new name had to be something she liked, but didn't give her away. So no flowers, no herbs... maybe something striking and unobtrusive all at once, like the suit she'd chosen.

Edict. It seemed like a good name. It had a strong presence, appealed to her sense of determination, and had little other relation to her natural tendencies. She tested it out on her lips. "Edict. I'm Edict, I—"

"—want you to—"

She slapped herself with such force that the handprint lingered until she made it back to Floor 24. How did she forget that name was taken? Was she trying to forget? The embarrassment of such a simple slip had distressed her to the point that she could no longer think about outfits, or names, or parties, or anything else.

She returned to the Villa a more composed person. Or perhaps a different person entirely.

He settled on "Orpheus." An interesting mythical figure unassociated with botany, and a name that rolled off the tongue. Orpheus affixed a golden lyre to his lapel, brushing loose hair out of the way as he pierced the fabric. Long, loose hair… The hair was also a problem. Men *could* have long hair, but Orpheus didn't. He favored frugal beauty, focusing on saying as much as he could with as little as possible. Thankfully, hair was simple to grow and cut in a virtual world. He could settle for a short hairstyle, and when it was time for Acanthus, she could have her femininity back without a fuss. Finding a shorter cut that straddled "pretty" and "handsome" took a while, but was merely a matter of patiently perusing the infinite hairstyles Cardinal offered. Orpheus dyed what remained of his hair berry red. He imagined it was the color she usually spoke in, a comparison Acanthus would disdain as both vague and vain.

Orpheus stared at a disguise so complete he felt unsettled. It was more than the clothes and the hair. He had gained a few centimeters by virtue of his unabashed masculinity. Acanthus was always careful to wrap up her differences and shape herself in a way that ducked underneath expectations. Orpheus was himself.

"It's just for the masquerade." Her voice startled Orpheus. He cleared his throat and tried again, letting the sounds rest near the bottom of his vocal chords. "A little better," came the next words. It wasn't perfect, but if he kept his sentences short and his demeanor relaxed, the voice could pass absent scrutiny. A little more work would make it all the more convincing, so he continued experimenting. "It's just for the masquerade. It's just for the masquerade."

—--

Standing in line to enter was the most nervous Orpheus would be all night. The mask was the final piece of his disguise, but to earn it, he had to wait in a line full of people that had met Acanthus. There was a strong possibility somebody would see him and recognize her, and being discovered so early would ruin the entire night. So Orpheus did his best to affect an air of polite revulsion. He cocked his head upwards, crossed his arms, and looked across the single-file crowd with mild disinterest. No familiar faces so far.

"Black, or white?" A doorman asked.

"White. No sins for tonight, I'm afraid." Orpheus was a show-off, not a hedonist. Besides, the white contrasted delightfully with the suit. With the slow satisfaction of placing the last puzzle piece, he donned the mask.

—--

Orpheus preferred to be fashionably late, but the fewer faces that saw him put the mask on, the better. Fashion could take the hit on this one. But unfashionably early left very few people to talk to. Eyeing an unmasked pair at the bar, Orpheus approached, first waving the bartender over. “Manhattan, please. In a coupe glass if you have it.” Once the bartender returned with the drink, he waited for an opportunity to intrude with a shallow quip. “Early bird gets first pick of the bar, I guess?” His eyes flitted down to the wolf mask resting on the bar. “I misspoke—early wolf gets the first pick of the prey. I like the mask, by the way. It suits you. Are you dancing later tonight?”

Orpheus glanced over to Mari as well. Acanthus had met her; Orpheus had not. He needed to be careful using names until hearing them. “And no mask for you to wear. Cheers to honesty.” Orpheus raised his drink, moving to *clink* Mari’s own. (He wouldn’t be offended if she refused. He was a stranger, after all.)

“I’m not sure if we’re doing names at a masquerade, but seeing as how you two are currently unmasked… I go by Orpheus. I’ve spent most of my time on the lower floors, so I haven’t really gotten around to meeting too many people. Oscar’s party seems like a good place to change that.” He was careful not to ask for names; if they wanted to share, they would.

[Edict 0]

"Black, or white?" A doorman asked.

"Black."

Edict stepped into the party, overwhelmed by the movement and the people. It was easy to forget 10,000 people entered this game. It was rare to see more than ten people together outside of a floor boss or important event. The hundreds of strangers here made Edict feel like he was back in the real world.

It was the mask that made him feel safe enough to mingle. Large groups always made him nervous, and ever since—well, as long as he'd been alive, he felt the best course of action was to avoid people. His own avoidance left him feeling lonely, but it was better to fight alone than to risk taking someone else down with you. It had almost happened with Acanthus.

Another reason Edict felt safe at the party was because he was confident Acanthus would not show. She barely tolerated a full questing party, let alone an actual party. With Acanthus not present, he could socialize a little without bumping into her.

And would that be so bad? The thought gave him pause. He had avoided meeting her again for good reason: he knew that eventually, he would have to explain himself. It wouldn't be enough to deflect and joke. She had seen him at the mercy of an unspeakable monster, and he had forced her away. It was better to fight alone than to risk taking her down with him.

"Wearing the wrong clothes to play the part of the edgelord," he joked, resplendent in a white suit and golden tie. A little ostentatious, sure, but it was a masquerade. You had to be a little too much to fit right in.

He eyed two women and a man sitting at the bar. He wasn’t interested in drinking, and he didn’t want to interrupt whatever they had going on. Instead, he quietly ordered something that would fit in his hand while he socialized (a gin and tonic, hold the gin), nestled into an empty circle of chairs, and watched the people from behind the black lacquer mask.

Something about the mask itched. It made him want to take the damn thing off and scratch his face until the skin peeled off. He hated the feeling. But it hid his cursor, and his name, and the thought of being found here… it was worth the itching. With any luck, someone would come along and distract him with idle conversation.

[Shikari 0]

Lv24.

"you don't swing that way, do you?"

demian had shot him a smile. shikari looked on, through the slits on his own mask. he couldn't say he had ever expected the question to come out of another player's mouth before, but he was definitely delighted -- flattered. 

"no, i don't."

he couldn't help but smile. demian mirrored his own grin, just a tad sheepish, the man looking downwards towards his black mask, clasped between a stretched thumb and index.

"that's unfortunate. ... and here i was hoping to skip the night and dance behind her back."

demian lamented, then put on the mask as though it was a visor. they'd seen, and followed, bistro having done the same earlier: hers a white stag, with antlers painted in gold. they'd wondered in the choice all the same (at least, shikari himself certainly did), and demian, wandering in, was now no different. clad in obscurity, all that was left to distinguish him from the crowd was a black overcoat with a lapel chain in silver and amethyst. there was the telling purple shaggy hair of his, only barely groomed, and a paisley silver tie against a white collared shirt, tucked safely beneath a dark vest. the turn of his lips towards shikari afterwards had looked like a sneer.

not that the man could fault him, given their presentations. bistro must've looked like a celebrity, the way they'd lagged behind her like bodyguards dressed in black in contrast to her dress in divinity. he had hummed, in his approach to the attendant at the door -- black mask, or white? shikari simply pointed to his own mask, a hand over one that looked similar to his own design. had anyone been reading into these choices, they would've been lost on him, but perhaps the spectacle, as demian had mentioned himself familiar with, was inherently by design.

he swapped his white out for their own, and ducked through the entryway. donning a black suit pinned with a red rose, he adjusted his silk gloves once he'd folded up his sleeves. demian had sunk into the crowd, becoming one with the party, and bistro was nowhere to be seen. so he popped his collar, as informal as he could for attending a party with such a dress code, and slid himself in between two patrons at the standing bar. 

"whiskey, on the rocks. do you serve something akin to a hibiki here?" he remained cordial, regardless of the outcome, knowing that in lieu of their circumstances, the question posed was still worth a shot at one day getting his desired answer. then, once he found the drink in his hand, shikari turned to lean against the counter, surveying the seats at the side of the room.

dancing? maybe later, if the music picked up. for now, he was satisfied indulging himself in the club's ambience, leaving the two workaholics to pick up on his slack in the meanwhile.