F01-OP Blackbook, Grand Opening

[Simmone 0]

An atmosphere of rising temptation and lust that left the air electrically charged, one that made Simmone's skin tingle. Or perhaps this alcohol was a bit stronger then she had first considered. Upon on the upper balconies of the Blackbook, not many seemed to had noticed it existed. Over the side of the white railing, the players milled about like tin soldiers and the chatter threatened to overtake the music in volume. That glass in her hands churns as she spins it, stealing another bite of comfort in a warm roll across her tongue. The woman exhales deeply, melting into the red leather at her back and becoming tucked in to the space. Eyes turn to the wine glass as its raised in line with the chandelier dangling from above, inspected as its swirls and it couldn't help but give her a smile. "I could get used to this..." She remarks in her nestled nook, bouncing her right leg over the other.

Whoever the mysterious host was that had peppered the Town of beginnings with vague invitations had provided just the means for the woman to unwind. Despite the fact she wasn't one for the one night stands or the electric slides that were being danced in the dark and freshly making sticky every corner. A wayward and sideward glance toward the railings that lead below, she pegs an ashtray that sat on the smaller tables that ringed that edge. The woman stands and wobbles, the flush carpet beneath her bare feet soft like velvet. Swiping it from the table, she'd click it down at the table near her heels and pull it close. "Really thought of everything." Another popped comment to allow it out of her head. A twist and glide of her hand, her inventory screen appears. Scanning past the numerous buttons, a press sees a little silver case rip out of the ether in a flash of blue. 

The woman presses her thumb into the square side, causing the thing to fling open as a button is pressed. Unfiltered cigarettes stare back at her, and one is peeled free before its clamped shut. Tossing it down next to the ashtray, a ruffle through her hand bag sees a little red stone. A tap on the table sees it light bright, and pressing it to the end of the thing dangling out of her mouth leaves a thin trail of white bleeding upward. A heavy pull that causes her chest to rise as the thing becomes bright orange, and an exhale that leaves a thicker stream of white. Her night would be made comfortable to the cacophony of sweet nothings spoken in ones ear that took to a volume of their own. A reach to the right strap of her dress as its pulled up, tucking herself back into the seat she'd placed a claim all her own. To an electrically charged aura of elegance mixed with fulfilled desires. In some strange way, this place reminded her of home.

[Sibyl 0]

@Shikari

untethered but not for long.

“like my handle?”

how darkly he looms in their eyes. pushed back by his advance, their steps mirrored his, head tilted up in the light to lend the appearance of holding his masked gaze. the music is overpowering. everything around them pulses with its heavy beat. sibyl gives themself to their partner’s direction; finds it, a light touch to their back, and they halt as one, in time with the cadence.

“the fals—”

“shikari.”

hands meet, palms flat against the other’s. 

“but you can call me syl. all my close friends do.” 

is that what he wants? sibyl’s eyes flick to the blur of their joined hands. his fingers are longer: by what measure, they couldn’t entirely discern. the stranger pulls them back into his orbit and sibyl abides the spin. immediately, they want to ask; their grip tightens on shikari, tension shifting between them, and like the other times, their partner meets them with assent.

they’re dropped. held there by the firm arm beneath their shoulders, the song’s tempo guiding the slow roll of their hips. it’s impossible to miss the way shikari drags it out. the intent festers right where they touch. and sibyl, set upon, yielding but light in his arms like a graceful hollow-boned thing, wants suddenly in the moment to encourage him to try and take.

that shikari does on the moment of their recovery, turning them outwards, their hands grasped in both of his. “and am i privy to a name as well, or shall i go with your majesty?”

one name, consistent between both realities. their response comes immediate after a cursory glance at the indistinct figures of the surrounding crowd and a gentle prompt for shikari to draw them in at the middle of a pass. let him interpret how they have chosen to speak so closely in confidence; they whisper it right next to his ear.

“sibyl.”

(they quietly toss aside the false name they had brought to pair with the mask. there weren’t any plans to give it anyway, neither had they intended to hover long enough around ianthe that she would have needed for something to call.)

“i’m afraid i sometimes also answer to syl,” they continue, amusement threading through their voice. “but if you treat all your majesties this way, i could be convinced to lend you mine for the rest of the night.”

[Vanta 0]

He didn't seem to hate her touch, how odd a notion it was. Childhood for Vanta had been nothing short of one word, suffocating. Yet this man that stood before her gave a breath of fresh, crisp air. When she pulled away there was a slight moment where she thought she had maybe upset him, had he wanted her touch.. had he needed it? What would he have done had she not pulled away? The questions remained unanswered, but there had come a brief moment of realization. They had a mutual agreement. Neither one of them wished to part from the other. At this moment, they happily shared their time. 

"If you would like to.. would you care to dance. That way, you can have an experience I stole you away from, and tell you that story better." With a smooth pass of his hand the mask had been removed and she was now held by him. He felt warm, inviting. She took in the sight of him carefully as though it would be the last time she ever could. The eyes that looked back at her searched, waiting with anticipation. He leaned in closer, she could feel his breath grazing her skin. He smelled nice, almost like a warm autumn walk. "Hirru," he paused briefly, "My name is Hirru." How could someone be so captivating?

"Hirru," she spoke his name softly, trying it out.  A low chuckle escaped as she gave him another brief smile before putting her hands to the lace that kept her mask tied. She pulled the bow lose letting it come off, discarding it to the side. She looked back up at him. "My name is Vanta, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Hirru." she paused a moment, "Understand you have stolen nothing, I came simply to enjoy the festivities, gather information, and desperately avoid all possible interaction. You however, have given me a new perspective. One that I cannot refuse." She dared, bringing a hand slowly to his face, resting it on his cheek as her thumb gently brushed across his skin. They had placed trust in one another in some way, she intended never to break it. This evening had been everything she had ever feared, but now that she was here living it, it was everything she had ever dreamed. She carefully began to glide her hand down to his shoulder, slowly, allowing him time to object. Her other arm laced around his shoulder, awaiting her promise. 

@Hirru

 

Edited 3 hours ago by Vanta

[Winnie 0]

Winnie danced freely, unapologetically, as though it would be her last dance. The nice thing about growing up in a small village where you were thought to be a god, was there was no shortage of training. She knew several languages, she could fight, though it was frowned upon unless dire, she could sing, draw, sew, knit, crochet, cook, bake, clean, garden, hunt, and she had been trained to dance. Dancing felt ethereal to her, as though a part of her soul was coursed through to those who saw. It felt freeing, yet terrifying.

Having the belief that a part of your soul was transferred to people who witnessed something so intimate was joyful, but also a distant terror. Vulnerability at it's finest. Though at this moment she didn't think about the fear, nor the joy of sharing the so called 'gift'. She simply danced, gracefully so, letting herself go to the music with reckless abandon. Before long her momentum had faltered when a stranger bumped into her causing a stumble. The man caught her quickly, grip firm and strong. He steadied her, an apology streaming out. "Ah, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." She looked up at him, he was certainly easy on the eyes. 

A moment passed as she watched him glance around. Did he expect something or someone? An answer followed in the form of a question. "One way to find a dance partner, I suppose." he paused, "You're not alone this evening, are you? If you are, I must insist that we share a dance. Everyone is dressed so lovely, so it stands to reason everyone should have a partner." She smiled at him warmly. 

"It just so happens that I have just received my partner." she grinned. "I can agree everyone looks lovely this evening. As for a dance, I would be delighted. You are a fine gentleman to tend to those who remain unchaperoned." Not a minute was wasted. Her hand in his, the other resting on his shoulder; she looked up meeting his eyes in anticipation. 

@Oscar

Edited 1 hour ago by Winnie

[Bliss 0]

Big parties were never Bliss' thing. Crowds drained her. Loud laughter made her anxious. She always felt like she was the odd one out sitting at the edge of the room. She loved smaller, quieter hangouts. Those she was comfortable with. But, tonight was different. The last time she attended one of Oscar's parties, she'd actually enjoyed herself. She'd hoped this one wouldn't be different. And besides, who can resist a good ball?

For tonight, Bliss went all out. Her newly short hair was pinned up neatly into a soft bun. A few loose curls framing her face perfectly. Her makeup was flawless, and it should be with how long it had taken her to get it done, though she'd never admit it out loud. She'd chosen a color palette that made her blue eyes pop and the red lip completed the look. Her nails shimmered faintly with a golden glitter that matched the accents on her gown. The dress itself however was simple, but stunning. It was a royal blue floor length satin gown. The fabric hugged her curves before flowing down gracefully. The neckline dipped just enough to be intriguing without being revealing. This really wasn't her usual style, it was more modest, more refined. But somehow, for tonight, it felt right.

Once she arrived, she was greeted with a choice. A white or black mask. In her head, the white one was elegant, the safe choice. The black one however felt mysterious, more daring. Bliss hesitated for just a moment, before she smiled softly. Maybe a little chaos won't hurt. She took the black mask and slipped it on, allowing the mask to conceal her for but a moment as she made her way in.

The dance floor practically glittered, the air was filled with music, love, laughter and everything in between. Everywhere she looked, there were familiar faces. But, she was focused on finding one. When she finally found him, her heart skipped a beat. His white hair caught the light as he moved across the dance floor. Bliss sighed softly as she watched him, her lips curling into a small smile. She remembered the first time they'd danced together. Under the stars, just the two of them. She'd hoped to get another dance tonight. 

She slowly made her way to the bar. Her heels clicking lightly against the floor. "I'd like an old fashioned." The bartender nodded, sliding an amber drink over to her just a moment later. She paid the bartender, grabbed her glass, and found an empty seat not far from the edge of the dance floor.

Spoiler

WC: 434

Spoiler

Bliss | HP: 220/220 | EN: 40/40 | DMG: 3 | MIT:18 | ACC:1 | REC: 1                                                                                                                            

"Name: Bliss
True Tier: 2
Level: 11
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 220/220
EN: 40/40

Stats:
Damage: 3
Mitigation: 18
Accuracy: 1
REC: 1

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - Mechanic's Tool Set | T1 Perfect Thrown Weapon |  ACC I | DMG II
Armor/Trinket: 
  - Variable Half-Plate | T1 Perfect Light Armor | MIT II | REC I
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - 

Combat Mastery:
  - 

Combat Shift:
  - 

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:
  - Light Armor R1

Extra Skills:

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:

Mods:

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:

Housing Buffs:

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:
"                                                                                                                            

 

[Astra 0]

PH

[Lysette 0]

Lydia had only just finished her song when she was approached by Jomei. She had mentioned to Oscar that she could use someone who was skilled with a guitar, but she hadn’t really expected him to go so far in providing that someone. She quickly held up a finger, turning to the crowd. She was in the zone right now. Professionalism overriding social courtesy. It felt wrong to have an intermission so early into her set, but no one told her that she was going to have help and that she’d need a moment to teach the chords.
 

“You guys have been a great audience! Give me just one sec and we’ll get back to it!”
 

The band began to play a soft and smooth melody. They wouldn’t have dead air, at least. Lysette whirled around, finally greeting Jomei properly with a bright smile.
 

“Lysette,” she replied with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m sort of just winging this. Oscar’s really bad with details.”

If he’d told her sooner, she might have taken the time to get with Jomei some time before the event started. Now? They would both be flying by the seat of their pants. Fine. Not the end of the world. She’d done more with less.
 

“Um, let me just-” Lysette swiped the air with her right hand. Quick fingers navigated through her menus, scrolling through her inventory until she found the correct item. In a bright flash of light, a small Performer crystal appeared. “This is what I was thinking of playing. Lyrics are in Japanese, but that's fine.”
 

The joys of being a polyglot. Maybe the only thing from her old career she actually liked.
 

“I-” She cut herself off, spying a familiar head of red hair just a few feet behind Jomei. “Sorry, one sec. Just- Uh- Listen to the song and I'll be right back!”
 

She dashed off, weaving through the crowd. Without a bit of hesitation, she rushed forward and threw her arms around Abellio's neck.
 

“You came! I didn't think this was your type of party?”
 

She smiled up at the man, balancing on her tip-toes, half dangling off of his shoulders. Mercifully, she felt his arms wrap tightly around the small of her back, taking the weight off of her arms. Lysette released her grip, hands splayed over his chest as her heels returned to the floor. Abellio looked good. Dressed-up, but still with his own style. Maybe not the right time or place, but totally him.
 

And she loved it.
 

“It's not. But it's your show and I'll be damned if -”
 

She grabbed his collar, yanking him down towards her. His words died on her lips. Lysette couldn't really articulate her emotions. All she knew was that he'd managed - so easily - to whip them up into a tempest. Every time he did this - at the raid and at this very moment - it was simply unfathomably sweet. It was almost frustrating how easily he was able to put a smile on her face. Lysette had to wonder whether or not she did the same.
 

She broke away, fingers curling in the fabric of his tunic. Inhaling sharply, Lysette bit her lower lip and then looked up at those eyes. It was cute how surprised he was.
 

“Listen. I only have a couple more songs and then I'm all yours for the rest of the night. I wanna dance so you better get some practice in, okay?”
 

Lysette stepped back, holding herself back from blurting out three more words. She gave Abellio a bright grin and then spun round on her heels to rejoin Jomei. Really, she just wanted to end the performance right there. Desired nothing more than to dance the night away in Abellio's arms. But she made a promise. And she had this crowd in the palm of her hand. Couldn't really let that momentum pass her by.
 

“So? Think you got it? Obviously, it's cool if you wanna go off script a little bit.”
 

—
 

It hadn't been a struggle to acquire a guitar. Frankly, Lysette kept enough instruments for a full ensemble tucked away in her inventory. One never really knew exactly when inspiration would strike. The background musicians slowly faded out, leaving the dance floor quiet for a time. Lysette looked to Jomei, about to give him a nod to begin playing when one of the staff came forward and whispered in her ear. Lysette nodded once, then twice.
 

“got it,” she whispered.
 

“It's me again! The host wanted me to let you all know that the Upper Rooms are open. It's been a while since any of us were able to get drunk, so if you're starting to feel it we've got space for you to rest. That or - with the way the night seems to be going for some of us - other activities. Instruction was - and I quote - ‘please do not stain my furniture.’ Which is a wild thing to say, but don't shoot the messenger.”
 

She finally gave Jomei a nod.
 

“Anyway, here's Mirage.”

[Morningstar 0]

”You’re very good at this.” 

And so was she. She blossomed as the song went on, her body loosening until matching his tempo came easily. It was like she had found the switch in her head that turned off the voice telling her to slow down; to be more careful. Her stiff shoulders dropped, and the dance became fluid.

”I don’t suppose you do this sort of thing often?”

Castor's lips tugged at the corners as if to mimic Stella, and suddenly he was somewhere else. It was the same in many ways—bright lights, music he could feel in his heart. But he was someone else, and so were the people around him: young, eager, and naive, with wallets too fat and livers too forgiving. Nights were long, mornings longer, and sometimes they blurred into one. Faces with unrecognizable features revolved like a slideshow. Eyes he didn't know. Lips he couldn't remember. Every night, someone new.

Oh, how things had changed.

"I used to," he admitted. "I've gotten boring, though. Believe it or not, this is rare for me."

Castor stepped quick and precise, like he'd done a thousand times before. The crowd pressed in, a blur of heat and motion. The song reached its climax, threatening to change on them. Lysette's voice kicked up over the crowd, beautiful and strong. Castor leaned in, voice low enough to barely cut through the noise.

“Careful,” he said. “You’re starting to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”