F01-OP Blackbook, Grand Opening

[iris 0]

iris watched as the corners of sin's mouth lifted, preparing a response. then—

— cut to black. 

and iris' first instinct was the twitch of her head towards the ceiling, wondering what had caused the technical flaw, the mishap of the night.  (perhaps, had they been paying attention to the host, at least iris would’ve known; sin looked like she was familiar with how the song and dance went as it were, by her hunch.) but in the dark, something took the breath out of her. a warm figure, firmly pressing up against her, drawing a gasp out of her tightened throat. and the pull thereafter, fingers clawing at her hips— iris had panicked in the interim, eyes searching the dark fruitlessly. she whined, feeling tenderness planted in detached repetition, painted along her neck. but the familiar scent of the player upon her informed her, in lieu of a lack of vision, that she was in good hands. her heightened awareness, betrayed by the absence of light, only further exacerbated the sensation between contact of skin upon skin; that touch was the only thing that made sense in this new reality. and, behind iris’ careful frontal disposition, her subconscious was quickly succumbing to it. only when those lips breached her jawline did iris realize she was being hunted. “I don’t want to talk about our old jobs unless it’s mine." sin's voice was low, almost to a growl, and the tug of her hand in iris' hair addled her mind further than any intoxication granted by cardinal ever could. her stomach churned with want, desire, obedience, and she leaned back, exposing even more of her throat than she had ever intended. iris found her teeth gnashed together in between exhilarating breaths. then, they parted, sudden, just as sin's teeth sunk into her. the pressure alone however slight was enough to draw an unseemly sound, almost like a plea, from the lamb feasted in the dark. never mind the fact that the witnesses nearby could hear her. she nearly stumbled, going lax against the counter behind her, her lower body pushing back to steady herself, sinking further into sin's warmth. iris’ only recourse not to fall and break away from contact was to grip back at the body pressed against hers: searching, reaching, clawing at linen and cloth. at the end of it, when sin had decided she was done working with her fangs, was iris left on her own, weakened and breathless. iris felt them draw apart. and in that gap, sin had left a vacuum: cold air stung iris’ skin, compounding on what little accumulation of spit and sweat that clung tight to her frame, the reason behind her knees unsteady, mind spiraling. iris didn't know what to do. had she been present at an event any more elegant, she would've akin herself to an alice trapped in wonderland.

(yet, with the way sin's fingers slipped underneath her chin, nails grazing the point under her jaw where she was weakest, she was the first thing that iris saw. so iris contemplated further on that thought.)

straight-laced as sin might've seemed, iris seemed all the more guilty, with parted lips of surprise formed from the void, painted upon flushed cheeks, the image of a willing participant. she shut them, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes glazed, gaze shimmering with an uncertain feeling her new secret in the renewed light. was it forged from embarrassment? fear? it was only when sin shot her a smile however careful, yet carefree in presentation, that iris would start to develop an answer.

“I have an office here," sin had said, before her voice turned breathy, and iris started to feel her fingers trace the spots where her lips had been on her skin. "And it’s such a shame." each drift, each slide of a phalanx from sin’s fingers kissed a sore spot along iris’ neck and jaw, beckoning back the memory and intensity of their wishful thinking in the dark. ‘bambi’ drew slow breaths then, fingers fidgeting, eyes shifted away from sin to the crowd in certain contemplation bereft of seduction. 

(not that her logical faculties were working, even without visual stimulation.)

"Nothing on the desk, nothing in the filing cabinet. Such a lovely chair though."

(and her legs might've shaken at the thought of finally being granted some respite through this mortifying ordeal...)

"What do you think, Bambi?"

iris' giddied eyes shot back to sin, neck pinched to a side to allow sin's fingers to run across her skin further.

"Want to be the first woman I dance for? Maybe be the first thing that ever comes across my desk?”

never mind the puzzle pieces that clicked at the back of her head about what kind of occupation sin really belonged to beneath the facade of a prince, a knight. her fingers slipped past iris’ cheek to brush against the rib of her ear, and iris paused long enough for her touch to linger. then, her own pulled upwards to reach around sin's wrist, and iris turned her head, slow, pressing her lips against sin's palm.

her eyes, beyond their lidded fluttering, pooled only with a hazy, innocent desire.

(tonight had already been much of a roller coaster, and iris would be damned if she couldn't bring it to a satisfying conclusion, no matter how out of her depth she knew she felt underneath it all. if she were to be asked in the future about her condition, her protests would be thus: she had tried playing it safe only for it to end with poor results. how much better would it be to throw caution to the wind, just for once? if she would have no one else to listen of commandments from tonight, she would play the role of the girl on the run, chasing that white rabbit, for all she cared.)

"if you are willing," iris replied, meek, eyes towards sin as though begging for salvation whilst in prayer. 

"it would be my honor."

[Jomei 0]

A curious gaze, obscured behind the mesh of his mask, scanned the room as Jomei turned. Back leaning against the busy bar, he took to people watching as he waited for his drink to be made. All different individuals dressed to the nines, the veils covering their features made it nearly impossible to tell who was who. Many had a sense of familiarity to them, some more than others, yet he could not place names. 

The orchestral melody slowed to a halt, and their esteemed host took to the stage to cordially greet everyone. He wasted no time with lengthy speeches, a few words of welcome before introducing a musical guest; Lysette. Her song of choice was a stark contrast to the instrumentals that greeted them upon entering the Blackbook. Percussion and brass backing had more of an upbeat, electronic sound to it, and Jomei caught himself bobbing his head along to the beat. 

Lights Out it seemed the song of choice had a bit more meaning than he had expected. As she moved from the first verse to the chorus, the entire club was shrouded in shadow. Any lights immediately snuffed out, and he could have sworn he heard a couple of soft gasps as darkness suddenly surrounded them. 

It was all part of the show. They were still in the safe zone. Oscar would not have had any ill intent cutting off everyone's ability to see.

As the second half of the chorus picked up, the lights returned. The bar no longer at his back, Jomei found himself looking down at the dance floor from above. Dance partners had swapped, seats once unoccupied now had someone from the opposite side of the room sitting in them, and Jomei was on a balcony? Looking to his side, he saw that he was standing with Oscar - and next to him, well, even with the mask hiding her features, he was able to recognize Lessa.

And she, most likely, was able to recognize him.

So much for the game of cat and mouse. 

Jomei hid the slight disappointment he had in the mystery being spoiled as he removed the mask covering his face to look at the two. Besides, the drink he ordered was brought directly to him.. guess the server knew where he was going to end up, and that was top notch service. 

"Oscar" Jomei would greet his friend more formally than before with a smile and a handshake. "You've outdone yourself yet again." Despite giving his attention to the man, he could not stop shifting his eyes past him to look at Lessa. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to burst out and spill onto the floor at their feet.

She was absolutely breathtaking. 

As their conversation with the host concluded, Jomei would slowly step towards Lessa with a smirk. 

"I guess this mouse got caught in a glue trap. Lucky you." 

Lips gently brushed against her knuckles as he gently took her hand and brought it up to plant a kiss. 

"You look stunning."

Edited 5 hours ago by Jomei

[Plum 0]

As the final notes of the song swelled, their steps slowed into a gentle rhythm, completing one last turn, one final brush of fabric and heat between them. Plum's breath came light and uneven, her smile still luminous but subdued as she tried to recuperate. It was the kind of quiet moment that made the rest of the world disappear, the only thing mattering being their movement, music, and the faint press of his hand at her back.

When finally they pulled away, she blinked up at her partner, ready to offer some teasing remark about their unexpected little tryst, but he had already reached a hand toward his face and, in one fluid motion, broke away his mask. 

At first, of course, there was no flash of recognition across the woman's face. She thought perhaps he was simply being bold in sharing his identity - not that the handsome stranger would have any reason to hide behind the mask. But when her eyes focused on the name that appeared, a trickle of understanding turned into a roar. 

"The host," she practically groaned, embarrassment steadily rising to her cheeks in a flush of pink. Well, at least the shade matched her gown.

Oscar smiled something fleeting -genuine?- a spark that almost made her forget to feel flustered for not having realized sooner. And then before she could think to speak again, he leaned down and pressed his lips against her forehead, promising a chance for her to find him again, later. She wasn't sure whether to laugh it off or chase the moment before it slipped through her fingers, and she found herself hesitating as he turned to go. She pushed back her bangs.

"I'll hold you to that, then." 

He retreated into his role as host and entertainer, leaving Plum just another masked face in the crowd, but one who studied the man with an intense curiosity from the sidelines. A collective murmur rose over the crowd when the lights flickered, then went out completely. For a heartbeat, Plum could see nothing but the afterimage of that tall silhouette burned behind her eyelids. 

Then the chandeliers flared back to life - and the dance floor had shifted. Standing at her side now was a new man: white-haired, with a white mask to match. It was hard not to take notice of his unusual arm, but Plum made every effort to remain subtle when she snuck her prying glances at it. Mostly, though, she fought to regain her composure and refocus her attention on her new companion. It would be quite impolite to take up one partner while still searching the crowd for her previous. 

"I suppose tonight will be just full of surprises- hello."

Her kind smile returning, she held out her hand, ready to resume the game.

[Telrenya 0]

Bright brown eyes scanned the room behind the safety of a porcelain white mask, as if maybe, through some expert observation or careful intuition, she might come to recognize any of the other players that hid behind theirs. It was all for naught. She must have stopped thinking about it, given her surprise when Oscar’s brief announcement caught her attention and she realized she’d seen his face before. ’The host, I suppose.’ She silently mused, bringing her glass to her lips once more. He commanded the room’s attention without effort, it seemed, and presented himself with all the elegance of a tried and true masquerade aficionado. To say she was impressed was an understatement.

But the calm, collected atmosphere that blanketed the room vanished with the lights. Telrenya’s breath caught in her throat as the shadows seemed to sweep her off her feet. Taking her by the arm, placed on the small of her back–she swore her feet didn’t leave the ground, yet it was as if she was held close by the darkness itself, carried seamlessly through the crowd.

The light returned to her, delivered along with a gentle lurch forward, like her sense of balance was being returned to her. In fact, her hands had already come up to brace in front of her, pressing against something that she quickly realized felt incredibly comfortable. Smooth satin under her fingers gave way to soft wool as her hand slid down and her chin pulled up to discover her new surroundings. Telrenya stood inches apart from a stranger with one less wine glass than she’d started with, hands gently pressed against the chest of a masked blonde man wearing a sharp tuxedo and a black bow tie. Her eyes traveled up to find his face. Her breath stayed caught in her throat.

Realizing it was a person she’d (admittedly gently) bumped into eventually jump-started the synapses of her brain and she pulled away in a hurry, holding her hands up in front of her like they’d been frozen in place. ”So sorry!” She forced out, a polite yet unnerved smile plastered on the visible lower half of her face.

The music continued to play, the beat and the lyrics tantalizing those that stood among the ballroom to give themselves up to it. Telrenya could feel the weight in her throat as she swallowed. The awkward moment would pass. She would encourage her own shoulders to loosen a bit, and her hands found each other in idle rest in front of her stomach. ”A pleasure to meet you, though.” Mysterious women didn’t trip over little things.

A name! Masked or not, mysterious women did have names. ”Stella.” There was a clear hesitation leading up to the word, but it could have easily passed for a regained composure. The name slid easily past her lips once she’d settled on it, at least. As it did, she held out a hand in invitation. ”If you’d like to dance?”

[Edict 0]

“Maxwell? I’m—”

A moment of hesitation. Should I be giving out my name here? The whole point is to avoid notice. Who could be watching, and how?”

—Edict. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Maxwell was a fascinating character. He seemed eager to throw himself into understanding Edict; and what was strange, something in Edict said he stood the best chance of not ending up with the rest of his partners that had tried. Never having met the man before, he felt they shared a kindred core. Edict could not explain it. It might have been the inscrutable way Maxwell had reacted to talking about the NPC he had pitied. Was Maxwell laughing at him for humanizing the game? No, that was just the anxiety talking. He seemed likely to humanize them too. One thing they had in common, so far. This *is* the loneliness talking, he reminded himself.

Maxwell had just lodged a question that caught him off guard—not for the reasons he expected.

Quote

"this happens to be a godless space. and, for full disclosure, i won't be expecting anything out of this, either. honest. ... so what do you say?"

“Godless? Maxwell, all of Aincrad is godless. We’re all ones and zeroes down here, some more than others. God is found in the space between understanding, and Aincrad is nothing but numbers. Believe in a higher power, or don’t—either way, you won’t find it here.”

Rancor overtook his propriety as he spoke. Maxwell had unknowingly unleashed a tirade lodged in his throat for as long as he could remember.

“Earlier, you asked if guilt motivated my choice of mask. It didn’t. Guilt is regret on someone else’s behalf. Religious people pin that regret to a god, but atheists perform the same ablutions, choosing anyone they have given authority to. Here, the only higher power is Cardinal, and it is the opposite of a god. It is a machine.”

Edict waved down a waiter. He’d decided that perhaps he would need the gin after all. “So if you want to call hating this ‘game’ a sin, if that’s what you call the sick fucking joke pulled by a lonely otaku—I bet he’s forgotten all about us by now, by the way—Sure, call me a sinner. The mask fits. But what standard are you going to judge me against?”

Edict reached up to rub his face, and surprised himself with the feel of the smooth darkness that met his hand. He’d already forgotten about the mask. Feeling the heat underneath, he counted backwards from three before continuing.

Three. Breathe in. Two. Breathe out. One.

Breathe in…

Edict snatched the fresh glass from the approaching waiter, and continued the conversation with a light and airy tone. “Sorry! Normally, you have to catch me with red HP in a desecrated church before you get that dialogue option. Let’s chat about something else.”

Quote

my company's not entirely unwelcome then? or, at least," and demian's gaze went to the dance floor, "until the night grows a little older."

“What did I do to give you that impression? You’re great company. You already sat through my best ‘god is dead’ monologue and didn’t bat an eye. (I’m assuming he won’t but I’ll change to capture the correct reaction. Edict will say anything to keep talking.) Personally, I’m considering kissing you just to make sure you don’t run away from me. Cardinal may have rendered a verdict, but I still get to pronounce the sentence myself. And really, what does Cardinal know? Aside from everything.” Edict shifted, moving infinitesimally closer to Maxwell. “Any good theory demands a certain amount of data to be reliable, doesn’t it? Part of the data that the game missed was that I end up infatuated with the first person who makes eye contact for a little too long.” His eyes moved past Maxwell, then Edict deliberately tore his gaze from the crowd to focus on his new partner.

“So what do I say to testing the waters? Big fan, personally. Give me a little eye contact and I’ll forget just about anything else.”
 

[Vanta 0]

She watched from the rooftop as they fluttered down in thousands. Black papers falling, casting a brief shadow over town. She reached a hand into the air, catching one, intercepting it's decent. The invitation was jet black with gold lining, the writing intricate and blood red. Fascinating. She stood, and jumped down from the roof, gracefully landing on the stone road beneath her.

Seems as though I have a ball to attend. 

She didn't waste any time. Though she was proven to be rather antisocial, an intriguing event could only try to keep Vanta away. The thought of interacting with others soured her mood, she'd grown much in the past few months, but still remained wary of human interaction. Nevertheless, she changed, and made her way to the ball. At least there would be food, and drink. Plus, plenty of people she could analyze from the sidelines. This much gave her a reason to attend. If anything, she'd eat well, and gain plenty of new, useful information. Time to see what I can gather.

She approached the door, a man stepped forth offering a choice. White or Black. She searched his eyes. Upon finding no indicator that she could refuse either, she took the black mask, putting it on. <<Masked>>

The doors swung open, inviting her into a new domain. She found a cozy spot in the darkened corner nearby a champagne table. Grabbing a glass, she tipped it to her lips and drank. The beverage was smooth and refreshing. She glanced around noting beautiful women and handsome men in various forms of attire. Some danced, others conversed, and some did exactly as she had chosen. Perhaps they waited for something......or someone. Only time would tell. 

[Sibyl 0]

"ianthe, shall we dance?"

begin: the first song.

the lights are dimmed a deep sultry red, hands emptied of half drained glasses, glasses whisked away by waitstaff in black. masked couples drift to the center of the floor, bodies pressed intimately close and swaying to the three-four beat of a nameless orchestral. 

sibyl more or less remembers both roles in a waltz. or the platonic image of a man asking a woman to dance. their understudy, ianthe...

a dark flush is rising up the brunette's smiling face but she remains perched on the edge of the shadowed lounge, eyes flitting between their extended hand and the couples on the dance floor. she's quite beautiful dressed in sleeveless purple, short in the front with a long train, clematis flowers pinned to her waist and hair.

"so early?"

"if you could see yourself through my eyes right now." spoken carefully light. "you would understand the haste."

anywhere else, ianthe would have already been overcome by nervous giggling. she's uncontrollably candid in that way. possibly easier to like. she places her hand in theirs, hiding her grin behind the back of the opposite, and on account of her earlier hesitation, sibyl doesn't close their fingers around hers until she has risen from the lounge and chanced a step forward herself. they watch her from the corner of her steadily blurring sights — a pause, a soft intake of breath, and ianthe's black mask dips in a nod.

the lead is theirs.

sibyl guides her to the floor.

there are some benefits to being their direct subordinate and that apparently includes being attended to through the fallout of a love quarrel. ianthe doesn't stop grinning through the dance. she sparkles when they lead her to twirl, and the flare of her skirt tempts sibyl to bring her into wider and wider movements just to see it repeat, peripherally conscious of the space they are eating on the dance floor. it's a statement, almost: look at her. don't you want to steal her away for the next song?

they pass beneath a stray flashing light. and ianthe's grip on their hand tightens, protective on instinct, and she's saying something up at them as the song winds down and someone starts to speak over the notes, a bright and disarrayed, getting the hang of it... be nice if... ... ...again?

neither of them are the sort of person the other would prefer to get lost in revelry with.

"try a round in the [dark] first, why don't you?" sibyl suggests with a tilt of their head. "i'll do the same."

ianthe is still contemplating her comfort by the time the lights go out. soon, she comes to a decision. it's spelled by her hand vanishing from theirs.

 

█ █ █ █ █  █ █ █

 

who is this?

sibyl wordlessly extends their hand.

the mask they wear is a white feathered thing, seraphic, in the sense that it fully conceals their eyes. the blindness, really — the lights are back on but it's never about the absence of the light, but its abrupt renewal. a heavy red is imposing upon their vision, resolving in brief silhouettes a man unfamiliar and an assessing gaze being leveled their way. it's not unwelcome, they've long decided. they merely have to pay back the favor before the night's end. the corners of their lips raise in a subtle, inviting smile.

perhaps that is what finally breaks the moment's pause and prompts the other to lead them into a dance.

(for god's sake, sibyl is a performer. of course they can still dance.)

they are both in unspoken agreement that the second song better suits the motions of a west coast swing. and sibyl had already put in the most work in the last one, but their partner's steady direction is difficult to resist. it looks like they're circling him, anyhow. kept in orbit by their linked hands and occasionally pulled in so close that the sweep of the other's arm presses the cold metal chain of the trailing necklace to their back. half a minute in and sibyl can barely distinguish the color of the other's mask at their reduced proximity. 

white? 

to conceal intentions, or to proclaim an absence of it?

the question comes out breathier than intended: "may i ask for your name...?"

Edited 5 hours ago by Pollux

[Lessa 1]

PH why is this moving so fast oh my gosh.

[Demian 0]

@Edict

“Godless? Maxwell, all of Aincrad is godless.”

what an interesting way to continue the conversation.

demian chose not to pay too much attention to the fact that edict had guessed some amongst them were more computationally binary than others. the spiel was based on the idea that there was a lack of divinity amongst them: demian, having chosen the words he did, felt vaguely conflicted about edict’s rambling. and yet, for every opinion, every observation the player seemed to be making, demian had been wondering fervently, in the sea of his subconsciousness, if he should be taking down every note. as was his instinct to follow, he did so, only stopping when edict surprised him.

“Here, the only higher power is Cardinal, and it is the opposite of a god. It is a machine.”

had demian’s eyes strayed away from focusing on edict, this would be the moment they flicked back to him, head lifted ever so slightly. and though there may have been an inkling of vitriol in edict’s voice earlier, it became too prominent to ignore the moment the man called for a server. there was a certain edge to his tone, then.

Spoiler

“So if you want to call hating this ‘game’ a sin —” 

demian’s eyes slowly widened from intrigue.

“— if that’s what you call the sick fucking joke pulled by a lonely otaku—” 

(for a brief moment, demian wondered if he had been drawn to edict simply by the fact that he saw himself in him. but, from a shallow glance, how could he have known?)

“I bet he’s forgotten all about us by now, by the way —” 

(gods. gods he’d hoped so.)

“Sure, call me a sinner.”

demian could only hold his breath.

edict had hesitated. felt the mask against his face. demian simply watched him, suddenly feeling parched. there was a recklessness in the way edict had swung his arm out to grab the drink from the attending waiter, coupled with a failure of defusal; his stubborn reticence only compounded towards an emphasis in what demian wanted to believe were his true thoughts. it simply enraptured him. no mask could cover up the feigned cheeriness within edict’s intonations. and to be presented himself a false sense of choice constructed from a carefully selected string of words. demian could only guess that they were from the player’s own experience.

no stranger to similar oddities, he bit his lower lip.

demian had shifted little while edict had flustered. watched him careful, almost unmoving, like a figure in the shadows, afraid to be seen. himself, imposed to be an audience, choosing to listen intently, mystified by the player’s own ramblings.

and the words slid out from his mouth in a drawl before he could rectify his flagrant indulgence in edict’s performance: “you — are — intriguing.”

to that end —

“What did I do to give you that impression? You’re great company. You already sat through my best ‘god is dead’ monologue and didn’t bat an eye.”

“well,” demian started with a wave of a hand and a shrug, almost non-chalantly. was his cool at his limit? “i couldn’t help myself. it was a wonderful soliloquy.”

“Personally, I’m considering kissing you just to make sure you don’t run away from me.”

demian swallowed, lump bobbing in his throat while desire flickered behind his eyes. “oh, edict, there’s no need to get me excited like that.”

“Cardinal may have rendered a verdict, but I still get to pronounce the sentence myself,” corrected edict. “And really, what does Cardinal know?” 

(what did cardinal know?)

“Aside from everything.”

(no. no.

it didn’t know anything. not about himself, nor the players alike. demian thought himself to be living proof of its emboldened ignorance, his fleeting thoughts rushing to that artificial drum of a heart beating in his ears. because that was simply why he was here, why he found himself talking to edict, a curiosity unsated that stemmed from an association undeniable —)

they closed the distance, demian visibly moreso than his companion.

“Any good theory demands a certain amount of data to be reliable, doesn’t it?” 

demian nodded, giddy.

“Part of the data that the game missed was that I end up infatuated with the first person who makes eye contact for a little too long.”

“is that so?” demian whispered, pausing just as the man’s vision blurred, long enough to wonder, spoke, yet quiet on his lonesome — “does that mean that position’s been taken already?”

(and they must have left that question hanging, air thickened with tension as demian felt it, just as edict refocused his attention back on him.)

“So what do I say to testing the waters? Big fan, personally. Give me a little eye contact and I’ll forget just about anything else.”

demian could only grin. he had never known a want as strong as this before. 

(or did he? and he simply chose to forget —)

“well,” he began once more, and chuffed at himself head tilted, as though rolling his eyes underneath his mask. “if you don’t mind a runner up for the position —”

and with a clap, the lights went out.

demian moved on instinct more than he did so with acknowledgement of his surroundings. he hadn’t expected this — but neither did it matter that he couldn’t see in the dark. he’d stared at his target for long enough to estimate the distance needed to shift close, identify where he had wanted to hover at. perhaps, had edict been keen, his gaze would’ve flashed a brief reflection in indigo hues in the void. demian leaned in, lips close to his mark’s ear. “— i’d love to do more than just give you a little eye contact, edict.” with a brief sleight of hand, demian slid the gin out from edict’s hold. his other worked to interlace his own fingers with edict’s, the first show of his warmth upon the other, testing the waters; getting the man comfortable to his touch. without further clarification, the closest thing to intimacy he could brave from someone he figured was both skitterish yet touch-starved was a contact held briefly between their shoulders. there, demian guessed that he could at least regulate himself, reading and reacting to edict’s demeanor had he wanted to pull away. and, if he didn’t… Spoiler he’d set the drink down by the foot of his seat. demian’s slid his locked hand down edict’s empty palm after pulling apart, then moved slow, down to his wrist, had he not refused the touch. he would tug slow, looking if his audience would remain captive for him, would follow his beckoning towards his waist, a hand he would want slipped underneath the stiff fabric of his formalwear, breaching the cold of the public; warm, warm, warm. demian — no, maxwell didn’t care tonight if he was just meant to be a body. he simply thought he wasn’t much better a sounding board.   and, beneath it all, it was just as edict had mentioned: despite the forcefulness of his advances, he wasn’t in a position of wanting the other player to leave. (regardless, he maintained a close distance.) “i’ve got my hang ups with cardinal, too,” demian hissed, hand slipping back to cup the jawline of his prey, had touch allowed. “it’s a little unfair, don’t you think? it allows its digital citizens run loose, rampant, like an uncaring parent. manners — manners as rules are enforced upon them, until it decides arbitrarily to turn a blind eye towards them. if it were up to me… that’s no way of bringing life to the world.” “and the players…” he rolled his eyes in the dark, still quietly aching, seething, fingers trembling as they hovered over edict’s skin. “how many of them are on the monument because these monstrosities go unregulated? forced to play executioner the moment they were born: destruction, that’s all they know. even if they were to become enlightened. all cardinal does is fabricate a war that ends with the annihilation of human lives — players — that exist within the castle. it’s sick, edict — of course, i as a sinner know this all too well.” “but i won’t kiss and tell,” demian breathed, nearly growled. in his gut he could feel it, a wanting of the other which stemmed from their similarities only deviated by minor differences from one lone exchange. to make a home out of a person. “and just like you, i’m here to forget. and there are many different ways to do it. but… if you’d like to try mine.” (“if you’d like to try me…”)

demian withdrew before he could curry a heard response. the lights flickered on as suddenly as they’d shuttered out. in their revelation, demian but sank back in his chair, edict’s gin in hand, taking a slow, heavy dose of the drink.

not for a single beat did his hazy gaze drift from delicacy-edict’s sight.

[Azhoda 0]

<Masked>

Why is it always these kinds of things Yuuri ends up dragging her into? Az was a bit annoyed by it, but then again, this time, Yuuri was right. She needed to get under the people, and this party, in his words, was honestly the best option for someone who does not like being in social events or even showing their face.

Her red silk dress flew down, furling at the shoulders and the lower end, exposing her shoulders. Her hair was tied with a hairband. With a sigh of defeat, she waited for Yuuri at the door. Of course, he showed up well-dressed in such a manner that you would think it was a nobleman from medieval times. His clothing even got his hair, purple as it may be, done quite nicely. At the door, Yuuri smiled, picked up a mask, and placed it on his head before handing a smile. "Now come, you antisocial genius, let's get you more social, and maybe then you can try to get things going normally in your life here," He said as he entered.

Az sighed again and looked at the masks. In what she knew could end up being hell for her, she donned the white mask herself, opposed to what Yuuri had, and entered the building herself. "Late as every friend," She said, giving the man with purple hair next to a dump in the side. A chuckle came from him, "Late, says the one who had to rush over to her house on the 24th floor." With a teasing smile, Yuuri quickly disappeared in the crowd, "I can't always be your guide, good luck, Azlynn." His words left Az stunned for a second at the building's entrance.

She did not follow the man and just walked over towards what she presumed would be the bar and leaned on it, "Social my ass, Yuuri," She said quietly. The redhead held up her hand, towards the bartender, and smiled, "Can I just have a water, please, don't ask questions about it either," She said, her voice sounding like she already gave up on this whole event, despite her dress and donning the white mask seemed to imply she was here of her own accord.

She looked out over the dancefloor for a second and just stared out into what was people dancing and talking. She was not even a good dancer to begin with, so how would she even go about it? For someone growing up around machinery and hardware, this was the weirdest place she would ever find herself being willingly dragged to. Taking a sip from her water, she just stared a bit, observing this whole deal with this dance, at least something she was good at here, observing.

Spoiler

<<Azhoda || Lv. 34 || HP:720/720 || EN:84/84 || DMG:17 || MIT:55 || BH:37 || ACC:1 || (Shield)Para:2 || Thorn:36 || Bleed:8/48 || Keen:1 >>

Equipment:

Simple Plate: Light Armor || Tier 4
Twin Drakehound: Shield || Tier 4
Execusioners Hand: Claws || Tier 4

Battle ready:

• ...

Skills:

Spoiler

Claw Skill R5
A, <<Claw>> Focus

Block R5
M, Shield Bash Active

Light Armor R5
M, Meticulous Active
A, Resolve

Charge
M, Bull Rush Active

Battle Healing R5

Buff:

Spoiler

• Rested: -1 energy cost for the first two expenditures of each combat
• Filling: 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
• Col Stash: 5% bonus col from monster kills and treasure chests
• Item Stash: +1 Battle Ready Inventory Slot

 

 

Edited 5 hours ago by Azhoda

[Jevi 0]

 Typically, masquerade balls she had attended ( correction, the only masquerade she had attended ) had individuals wearing masks to conceal their identity. 

Having the entire ballroom shrouded in darkness was not what she expected. She had heard of silent discos. Blind balls sounded complicated. 

"How the fuck are we supposed to see?" the woman mumbled to herself as she stood just inside the doorway for a moment, the voice of an unseen woman's singing serving as the backtrack.

It only lasted for a couple of moment before the soft shades of magenta illuminated the room and its inhabitants once more. A trick of the lights to accompany the song of choice, no doubt, as Jevi listened to the upbeat lyrics flowing from the singer's tinted lips. The masks in question were laid out on a table beside her, a suited man behind the table turning from the paired couples to the brunette with a smile on his face. No words were shared between the two, but Jevi looked from the concierge to the table before snatching a black mask and slipping it over her face. The blue, sleeveless top she wore ended at her navel, allowing the tiniest hint of midriff to peek out as she moved. In contrast to her form fitting top, she sported a pair of draping, black harem pants with slits up the outside of either leg stretching from her calves to her hips. 

Under normal circumstances, she still a bit reserved. This wasn't even entirely her scene. 

But nobody knew who she was behind the mask, nor did anyone care. They were all here for the same reason. To release their inhibitions and indulge in their desires. 

And for once in her fucking life, Jevi felt she deserved that.

"A drink, ma'am?" a server approached her. 

"Dark and Stormy. A double, if you would." 

"Of course." the server responded with a bow of their head before making their way to the bar. 

A nightclub with a full staff. First a massive crab boil and now this. Were all the frontliners this loaded, or just Oscar?

Jevi would claim an unoccupied cocktail table just off to the side of the dance floor. Her golden eyes looked at each of the pairing through the openings of her mask, trying to find any sense of familiarity with the other party goers. 

Not a single one. Good. 

Spoiler

Jevi | HP: 780/780 | EN: 92/92 | DMG: 23 | MIT:78 | ACC:2 | KEEN: 2 | F-SPIRIT | EVA:2 | BH:31 | REC: 4 | PARA               

Level: 35
Paragon Level: 12
True Tier: 5
HP: 780/780
EN: 92/92

Stats:
Damage: 23
Mitigation: 78
Accuracy: 2
Evasion: 3
Battle Healing: 31
Keen: 2
Rec: 4
PARA

Equipped Gear:
Weapon: Maelstrom Bracers -  Keen | Keen | Para
Armor: Brawler's Respite - Mit | Mit | Recovery
Trinket: Fancy Footwork - Eva | Eva | Eva

Skills:
Combat Mastery: Damage R3
Specialization: AoE
Martial Arts R5
Light Armor R5
Fighting Spirit
Lock Picking R3
Battle Healing R4

Active Mods:
Meticulous

Addons:
Stamina x
Precision x
Ferocity x
Resolve x
Dismantling

Active Extra Skills:
Survival 

Buffs: 
Rested | -1 energy cost for the first two expenditures of each combat
Clean | The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 20%
Multipurpose | Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll    
Relaxed | Increases out of combat HP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.    
Meticulous | +1 CD when crafting in one’s workshop.
Working | +2 EXP per crafting attempt
Forager | +2 Gathering EXP per gathering attempt    

 

Edited 3 hours ago by Jevi

[Vanta 0]

The festivities continued; people danced the evening away unapologetically, some filled their stomachs, some quenched their thirst, some congregated and laughed the night away during distant conversation. Others, like herself, had found a quiet, dark corner to observe the course of the evening. The ballroom was extravagant, the lights glittered as they moved about. The music echoed through the building comfortably. Eventually it became clear to her that she had neglected to eat. Her stomach rumbled furiously. Unfortunately, this was a common occurrence. She got distracted in current events and would forget that she needed such things for basic survival.

Her eyes coursed the room, locating the food. She groaned, Why is it so far away? The delectable food laid out for the evening was on the other side of the room, past the bar, past the ball room floor. She would have to make a full turn of the room, doing her best to avoid suitors who searched hungrily for a damsel they could whisk away for a dance. In truth, she longed to be captivated by another, dancing her breath away, just once. What better opportunity than an event such as this, but her nature worked against her day in and out. A learned behavior that was being worked out of her each step she took. A nature that a dear friend had gone to great lengths to free her from. The conclusion came, she would go.

Vanta pushed off the wall gently, standing upright. She just had to make it there without drawing too much attention to herself. The path had been forged carefully. She walked along the tables, carefully weaving in and out between clusters of people. On her way over a servant relieved her of her empty glass. The retrieval had been timed so well, that the smooth gesture had almost been missed. Half way there. She continued, but was soon stopped by a couple retreating from the dance floor. They made their way to the bar crossing paths with her. The woman stopped and looked her up and down. Vanta stepped aside. 

Pardon me, I'm just passing through. The reply came out more uneven than she had intended. 

Your dress is lovely. The woman took a moment to compliment her before returning her attention to her partner. They coursed off and took their seats at the bar. She let out a sigh of relief. 

Vanta regained her footing and continued down her set path, scolding herself along the way. It shouldn't be this difficult for you. A small crash came from the bar drawing her attention to the scene immediately. Someone had just fumbled and now a few of the servants worked to clean the mess. She turned back; her eyes widened, she attempted to avoid him, but it had just made things worse. Her foot caught a small bunch of fabric from her dress, and the collision came. The stranger caught her with strong, gentle arms. Panic rose within her. She kept her eyes to the floor, fiddling to be free of the fabric that had tripped her. 

I'm so sorry, I hadn't been paying attention. You see my attention had been drawn away for a moment as I was walking, I was sure the path was clear at the moment, but I was clearly mistaken. I ask for your forgiveness, had I been holding something it would have ruined your attire. She spit the words out quickly trying to compensate for her nerves. 

She gathered the courage and looked up, meeting a pair of dark, handsome, emerald eyes. 
@Hirru

Edited 3 hours ago by Vanta

[Cascade 0]

It had been a long day. Cascade had received the invitation by means of several players inviting her to attend as their plus one. Most of which she had politely declined, the others, not so much. She had grown tired of this town, and a ball sounded like the perfect distraction. Cascade took her time getting ready. She had never been able to be in one place for long, never had any time to care about how beautiful she looked, or who she would encounter. Most of her life was lived in the shadows. So tonight held a particular wonder for her that no other event could. She looked in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance she left and made her way to the ball. 

Upon arrival a man intercepted her path, offering her a choice. Sin or Saint. The sentiment? She didn't care. She chose purely out of aesthetic. 
<<Black Masquerade Mask>> acquired and equipped. 

She nodded, thanking the man for his aid as he opened the door. The ball room was beautiful. Lights carried throughout the room illuminating her path as she walked. There were clusters of people talking, laughing, drinking, eating, dancing, etc. The entirety of what she felt in this moment came down to a single word, Exhilarating. She coursed the room gracefully, her smile never faltering. Other attendants had turned their gaze to her from time to time as she walked about. She had yet to recognize a single soul. 

She looked around before deciding on a table that had few seats filled. Only a couple and what looked to be some of their friends sat currently. She walked up, offered a dashing smile, and sat. 

Good evening everyone. Isn't this gathering just lovely? she tried starting with small talk. A few replies came.

Quite, I find the extravagance to be utterly perfect. One complimented. 

It does seem to be the perfect night for such festivities, does it not?  another added. 

Yes, it certainly does. She answered back. 

The group grabbed their glasses and proposed a toast to their adventurous evening. Cascade took the opportunity to slip away and grab some sustenance. All of the food and drinks looked delicious. She grabbed a few different options before retreating from the area and making her way back to the table. She sat and ate, observing the night as things unfolded. She shared a few laughs with the others. There was something about the night that brought an ounce of life back to her. Something about being somewhere unfamiliar with people she didn't know. She could be free behind the mask. No one knew her.  In a way, it brought comfort.

Though she tried to ignore it, there was one thought that creeped back in time and time again. Eventually she ended up admitting it to herself that even though it was a nice feeling now, she did wish to see one person she knew. Only he peaked her interest. If he was there, she hoped to see him. If not, she would enjoy the night all the same. She sighed softly. 

As time passed she grew bored. She excused herself from the table, letting her feet carry her where they willed. Eventually that destination became clear. For now she stood on the outskirts of the dance floor. Watching as pairs danced beautifully. A secret longing began to fester within her.