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The Samuel Adder Campaign Presents: The Red & Black Gala
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Adult Wyrm
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 20, 2017 1:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Politics in RhyDin are far from Sira's thing, but the gala was an excuse to dress up and go out. She would show up a little later into the evening once the crowd had swelled and she could ghost through as just another face in the sea.

For part of the evening she'd keep a silver faux fur stole wrapped modestly around her shoulders, but eventually she'd check it and the whole of rather daring (for her) dress could be seen. From the front it looks like a fairly plain evening gown, a drape of clingy red fabric. The back however features a daring dip of transparent nude fabric, so thin it almost looked like the crystal features were glued right to her skin instead. The cut out included almost the entire side of the dress from hip to shoulder.

Sira'd drift and mingle a little, and try to avoid any actual political dealings, including the red hoods outside as well as the man of honor. She had never been a socialite like her mother, but she'd learned a few tricks of navigating parties.
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Adult Wyrm
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 20, 2017 2:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nick Cross wrote:
The Corpse Detective came to the Gala by foot. Dressed in a Simple Tuxedo he actually did not seem at all out of place.

He would meander through the crowded, smiling and shaking hands. He would of course, seek out and greet the man of the hour as well.

Of particular interest to him were the women in red, he would chat with them, collect one of their booklets asking a few pointed questions about the Tenets of the True Rulers.

He also took note of Mallory, the change was surprising to him. He would greet her as he greeted everyone else at the party, only he would carefully palm a business card passing it to Mallory via handshake. He didn't want to do anything too overt, but this recent change he had seen in both Mallory and Eri seemed almost too sudden to be natural. Eri was a good friend of his and he hoped he could help in some way.

He would spend his evening drinking and people watching, and being politely social.

Mallory's words to the private eye in reply to his greeting seemed no different from anyone else's, and the business card he'd pressed into her palm disappeared up her sleeve with a cartomancer's grace.

But before he left, and once he looked like he was thinking about leaving, Mallory approached him again, fresh from a reading at a lounge table whose patrons still wore bemused grins and whispered to each other at the dark omens she'd given them.

"Detective Cross," she said, gracing him with the same eerily steady smile she'd given everyone else that evening. "My employer has an eye for many great talents, as a man of great talents himself; mine is the Sight. Would you care for a reading?" With one hand, she gestured to a recently emptied cocktail table. In her other hand, palm-up, she held a fine old deck of playing cards, Renaissance-era or deliberately painted in a similar style.

The detective raised an eyebrow at Mallory's approach, then grinned at what she had to say. "A reading? Why not? I wonder what the cards will have to say about a dead man." He moved over to the cocktail table and pulled out a chair for Mallory. Once she was seated, he settled himself into the chair across from her.

He examined her face for a moment, then looked down at her hands, watching intently.

"I can't say I've ever participated in one of these before."

Mallory's smiles remained nothing but polite, carefully schooling her reactions to his words, as she did with everything else right now.

"The Pillars of Fate," she said, once she was fully settled. She shuffled the cards as she explained. "First, we'll see how many pillars your fate stands upon. Then, we will divine the nature of each pillar -- I will begin to draw cards into a pile, then you tell me to stop when you feel that aspect of your future has been realized."

She shut her eyes, one hand curling faintly around the thorny rose that appeared when summoned, and as she squeezed, she sifted through the cards one last time.

Her eyes slid open. Her smile widened, though only fractionally. "Please... take the card off the top, and show it to me."

He watched her carefully, studying her hands, her face, and her body language. He drew the top card and showed it to her. The eight of spades, with only one number in the top right corner, and every spade pointed in the same direction. He smirked strangely, not quite sure what to make of this.

Mallory dipped her head: "Your fate stands upon eight legs, like a spider. Fitting, in a way."

He watched her intently as she began the pillars, drawing one card after another, piling them up. He looked up a moment into her eyes to find her staring right back at him. "Right there. Stop." She turned the cards over, revealing a six of hearts, a two of clubs, and a queen of diamonds, none of them inverted.

She began a second pile, glancing up as soon as the first card was placed. “Stop.” The ace of spades.

“Stop.” The nine of hearts, inverted.

“Stop.” The two of hearts and the five of diamonds, both inverted.

He looked about the room quietly to see if they'd caught the attention of any of the other party goers, but after a few initial glances, they seemed to have moved on. Her earlier readings had all been far more ominous, comically so, and performed with far more flair. He looked back at her, and she resumed placing cards.

“Stop.” The kings of clubs and spades, both inverted.

“Stop.” A pair of nines, diamonds and hearts.

“Stop.” A ten of clubs and a jack of spades.

“Stop.” A seven of spades and a queen of hearts.

Having presented the set, she spread her hands and smiled magnanimously: "Behold, your fate. When you look down from the edge into the darkness... mind your feet."

She gave him the space of a few moments, to take in his fortune (and the values of the cards) before she began shuffling them back into the deck.

He frowned at all the cards on the table before him, trying to decipher their meaning. He was definitely feeling out of his element… until something clicked. Tartarus. He grinned at her. "Very interesting, Mallory. I was afraid all my dating prospects ended with my demise. When we finally meet, I know just the place to take her."

Mallory’s smile widened a fraction as she swept the cards back into the deck, but her reactions revealed nothing. She could only hope he’d understood. "Thank you so much for letting me read your fortune. May it bring you better luck in the days to come."

((Adapted from play with Nick Cross! Thanks, Nick!))
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Ancelin Aya

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PostPosted: Wed Sep 20, 2017 6:01 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ancelin had wandered off for a minute. He had a tendency to do that, disappearing and then resurfacing in his own good time. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just sometimes he was there and sometimes he wasn't.

Tonight he was.

Looking sharp in the crisp clean lines of an actual tuxedo, the polished effect was somewhat ruined by his ostentatious hairstyle, but whatever. He had a friendly smile for everybody he encountered, danced with anybody who looked like they might want to, and probably flirted with half a dozen people or more. He accepted the book and the letter from the lady in red outside, and probably asked as many questions as she felt like answering. It can be assured that if he got a chance to corner the man of the hour, the candidate was bombarded with at least as many.

He did not accept a fortune from the hot blonde in the tuxedo, but he may well have tried to get her number.

Whatever his luck at the gambling tables had been, he left in equally as buoyant a mood as when he'd arrived. It was impossible to say how many people might have left with him, but odds were good that if he could, he'd accumulated an entourage.

Dance with me.
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 20, 2017 9:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

“Seriously Tim, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Penny tried to interject when her ward and landlord brought up The Red & Black Gala.

“It’s for the Elite. The Important. The Who’s Who of the whole city will be there. Which means that I, of course, should be there.”

“You aren’t going to even know anyone who’s there,” Penny reminded him.

“Which is the best time to make new friends, when you don’t know anyone.” Tim declared.

“You really don’t understand the whole purpose of witness protection program and secret identity, do you? A ****ing faerie is hosting the event!”

“You just said that no one there is even going to know me. Old, secret or otherwise. Besides, what can go wrong when I will have my lovely body guard standing watch nearby?”

Penny pinched the bridge of her nose as her brow furrowed and eyes closed. This would be the second faerie hosted event in as many days that wormed its way onto her work (never social) calendar. There was a rustle of fabric as the wizard tried counting backwards from ten to zero as she breathed.

When she opened them, she could see Tim holding up a black dress on a hanger in one hand, and a pair of high heels. “…What is that?” she asked.

“It’s your dress. Don’t you like the stars? It reminded me of space. There was a shortage of red and black dresses, since everyone is going to the Gala. Go get dressed, I don’t want to be late and I still need to finish putting on my tux.” Shooing Penny out the door and towards the general direction of her tower. “And no weapons. Or well, obvious ones I guess. Just put some magic stuff in a purse or something if it’ll make you feel better. I’m not going all the way out there only to have to be turned away. I need to look respectable Penny.”

Penny gave him a blank look, followed by a slow blink. When she spoke, her tone was dry, “So what you’re saying is: No axe.”

“No axe.” Tim repeated, agreeing vigorously.

* * * * *

When they arrived outside of the hotel, Tim gave a look to the women in the red cloaks and murmured aside to Penny, “Friends of yours?”

He couldn’t see the flat look of her eyes behind a pair of black round spectacles she’s slipped on earlier though. Penny accepted a booklet, but only read the letter penned to the front as they headed inside to ascend to the rooftop party. The booklet itself would likely be read after the evening was over.

Penny did well to keep to herself, loitering a few paces away from Tim as he mingled as he wanted and she watched him gorge himself on drinks and the occasional chocolate, leaving him to indulge in the party’s offerings enough for them both. To give a better illusion that she was just another party guest, she did carry a martini glass, but it was too easy to spill the drink contents and never taste it. Drinking on the job wasn’t an option of course.

Overall, she was utterly stoic, perhaps even playing a part of a mute, though that part would be ruined should any of the few she knew by name happened by and approached her. For those she did know, a small smile would be given, and maybe a comment on how nice they looked and she hoped to see them at another time. For those she did not know, Penny did not hesitate to simply stare blankly and then walk away from them. In another life, she probably should have been a looming but silent shadow.

At one point in the evening when Tim had realized the importance of pacing himself through his drinks and catching his breath after a few too many spins about the dance floor with an affluent looking Elvish woman, he sided up beside Penny. “Woo, see? Nothing to worry about. I think I might try to get her number. She looked impressed when I told her I had my own castle.”

Rolling her eyes, Penny reached out to take the glass Tim had just taken from a passing tray and was turning to request for a bottle of water, but became silent when the man of the evening rose to issue a toast. As he spoke, Penny tipped her head slightly, just enough to allow the glasses she wore to slip far enough down the slope of her nose to see easily over their rims. She considered her options. Wizard’s Sight was a tricky thing in Rhydin, where everywhere almost everyone was something that wasn’t typical. Anything looked upon via the Sight would be forever etched in stone in her memories, so she had to really really really think something was important to see when she used it. Her stomach tightened, a flash of nervousness swept over her, but she managed to shove it back down to a dark recess of her mind. She had to know. She had to open up her Sight.

It took only a second of focus and issued will to open it. And it took less than that for Penny to reach out beside her to Tim and dig her nails into the sleeve of his tux in a mildly awkward way to hold on to him. Curling dark horns rose from Samuel’s temples, teeth sharp enough to shred through flesh and bone, cloven hooves and a long whip-like tail ticked back and forth. Then the eyes, long horizontal pupils surrounded by a pulsating green fire, all together made the bottom of her stomach drop out.




Slamming shut her eyes and the Sight, just in time for the crowd to cheer and tip their drinks up for the end of the toast, Penny turned back to Tim. He already looked a little concerned, or maybe confused, seeing as how Penny didn’t normally hold on to him. “We’re leaving now. Put down your drink and escort me to the elevator without question or a scene.” Words clipped and low for his ears only.

“But I haven’t--,” Tim started.

Penny didn’t have to repeat herself, but her hand on his arm did turn and twist his wrist into an uncomfortable angle until he got his feet moving. Luckily, he hadn’t made a startled gasp and their exit would pull little to no attention their way.

It didn't look like Tim was going to get that Elf's number.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 21, 2017 3:12 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ed Smith, Beltane’s Knight of Roses, arrived on the arm of a golden-eyed prince, decked out in old world fashion, an ensemble that was entirely red with a few gold embellishments. His date, Goshen, wore black. In a crowd full of so many traditionally dressed, he probably stood out, with his gold painted nails and flamboyant threads. He was neatly groomed but his hair was unbound, falling in black waves a little past his shoulders. For anyone whose eye he caught, he wore a smile, but none so lavish and full of affection as the one he turned on Goshen freely and frequently throughout the entire evening.

Immediately he recognized Mallory; she couldn’t fool him with a dye job. The smile he offered her was a little more tense than the others, and he made it a point to avoid her proximity as much as possible. As curious as he might have been about his fortune, he really wasn’t comfortable having it told to him by her.

Of course he made it a point to greet the hostess, telling Jewell how lovely she looked. Something about the politician made him uncomfortable, however, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet his eye. His was a dominating presence. He made Ed’s nose twitch. The boy squirmed, eager to distance himself from the man and get some air. He used wanting to dance with Goshen only partly as an excuse.

Abby had warned him to keep his wits about him, so as tempting as they were he avoided taste testing anything that looked even remotely alcoholic. It helped that Goshen didn’t have a very high opinion of the alcohol in the first place. There was no resisting the chocolate, though. Ed ate more than his fair share of the treats available.

There were several other people he recognized, such as Penny and Nick and Ancelin. He greeted them with a brilliant smile and exuberant wave, though opportunity to chit chat with them did not present itself. He recognized former governors from old papers he had read, and frankly they made him feel a little star struck. More than once he felt as if he didn’t belong among these people, the city’s elite, most rich and powerful. If not for Goshen, he thought he would have made a fool of himself, and fled before ever making it to the top!

Despite the lingering sense of foreboding that stuck to him from the day before, Ed did enjoy himself. He mostly had Goshen to thank for that. Glued to the young man’s arm the entire evening, the smile he wore had never faltered. He left in his company, in high spirits.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 21, 2017 8:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Unlike others with agendas in mind, Zan saw the announced gala as nothing more than the opportunity for a fun night out with his date Verity. He'd wear his finest (and only) tux and try to blend in as an appropriate adult.

He'd stop and chat with the creepy Little Red Riding Hoods out front, especially when he saw them peddling some holy book. He urged them to talk to Verity, because she had been trying to corrupt him with premarital sex.

Inside, he'd make conversation with anyone who got in his way and have some teasing comments for folks like Nick and Jewell the hostess with the mostest since she looked a little familiar, before trying to convince Verity to sneak off into some darkened room for some inappropriate adult antics.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 21, 2017 8:50 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The dress and bag were borrowed. The ****-me heels were not. They were also quite good at keeping her well away from proselytizers, thank you very much, Zandrick. Though she knew nearly nobody, it didn't keep her from socializing halfway decently. That may have been the alcohol. Alcohol always helps. Especially if your date is Zan.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 21, 2017 9:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Canaan stood outside of Rhydin’s luxurious Imperial Hotel and smoked an entire cigarette while watching the red cloaked females pass out their leather bound treatises. When finished, he paused long enough on the stairs to accept one of the tracts and scan its cover letter, expressionless right up until he reached the end.

“Root out the evil,” he read aloud. Cane shared with the girl an amused smile as the booklet was pressed back into her waiting hands.

At the party he took up residence at the bar, alone, notably lacking any sort of date. This, however, did not appear to put a damper on his mood. Well versed in the art of socialization, the Cajun made conversation with all those around him that were receptive, discussing everything from the weather to the ineluctable topic of politics. He tried each specialty drink offered, divested the servers of their confections every time one came within arm’s reach, shook hands with other business owners, and laughingly declined the invitations to join their gambling tables, citing a long history of terrible luck.

His various interactions seemed to carry Cane to every corner of the party and eventually brought him into the orbit of the evening’s delectable hostess: Jewell Ravenlock. For a short time they pretended the other guests did not exist. Indulging themselves in one another most selfishly, they whirled expertly around the dance floor for two whole songs, hands roaming, stealing glances and kisses alike.

It was with no small amount of reluctance that he shifted his attention from the beautiful Empress to the man of the hour when he teasingly drew attention to their shameless flaunting of sexual tension. Jewell introduced Cane to Samuel Adder, who appeared to be utterly delighted to make his acquaintance. After the two exchanged pleasantries, Mr. Adder beckoned to the smartly dressed Mallory St. Martin.

“A rose for the man, Mallory.”

“Good evening, Mr. Devillier,” Mallory said. “I’m so happy you decided to join us.”

Samuel waited for the young woman to produce the flower before continuing. “I’m so sorry to have taken her from you so abruptly... I’m sure she had an unforgettable time at Panacea, but given her options... I felt confident she’d make the right choice.”

Cane’s unwavering smile only grew. He looked from Adder to the witch. “I’ve always told her that if she was patient, great things would come. And now they have.” When Mallory offered up the rose, he took it with a dip of his head in thanks, but gestured with his free hand to the deep purple belladonna boutonniere pinned to the sleek, black lapel of his suit coat. “I’m not sure it will match.”

Mallory managed a quarter-smile for her former boss, no more expressive than she’d been throughout the entire evening.

“It’s perfect for you, though.” Cane gave the rose to Jewell and bent to brush a kiss across her cheek. “Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’ve another gift to deliver.” He reached into his coat and came back with a sprig of dead, graying snapdragons. “Good luck, Mal. Mister Adder.”

The Cajun took his offering to a woman who was seated at the very fringe of the party. She was a perfect, fearsome vision, beautiful in Her utterly stoic plainness. “Innomé,” he called Her. Cane crossed the threshold of Her radiant power, the thick and cloying presence of decay that seemed to keep everyone else away, and without ever touching Her, left the withered flower within reach on a nearby table. After honoring her thusly, he was gone.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 21, 2017 9:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

In the morning there was a stirring, a crackling charge of the air. Hours grew long and the energy grew swollen. On the fourth hour past noon, it shattered and rippled, pulsated. The change had come, one season for the next. Autumn crawled from its summer womb and spread its aching, chilling shadow across the land.

This was Her season, that of rot and decay, the formation of fertilizer for the earth. The stink of it the sickly sweet of apples and brittle leaves, cinnamon and campfires. She brought it with Her, for it was Her. Fully charged and awakened, at Her strongest and most formidable. What a day to choose to host a party.

It was almost as if She were summoned, but none had the capacity to compel one such as Her.

He would have come, had it been any other hour, any other day. The one who played hostess, She knew, was one he held in high regard. An inkling of curiosity and, perhaps, gratitude for the tributes he heaped at the base of her throne, inspired an honorary manifestation of presence.

Red were the leaves and red was the blood.

Black was the soil, and the dark of her eyes.

She fashioned her dress of nature’s refuse, stitched it together with raw, devastating energy. Come not near, said the rustle of fallen leaves. Copper chime chased her otherwise silent, barefoot steps. The sigh of the breeze in her passing carried the whispery rattle of bones. Everything beneath her shrank and shriveled, reduced to so much dust.

Which is why She dared not move, most assuredly did not mingle.

There was a place, on a chair, or at least the ghost of one, on the fringes. She claimed it hers, a place to sit and watch. Only a very select few She deigned to acknowledge, a respectful dip of chin for Colleen, a regal nod for Canaan. Not a single word did She share, but for this:

“My son,” She was overheard saying, when chance did arise to directly speak with Jewell, “sends his regrets.” There was a weight in her pause, silver and gold glinted in her too dark eyes. “I come on his behalf.”

For a time She existed in this place. She watched. She bore witness.

In the latest hour, on a blink, when no one was looking but then chanced to look again, She was gone, as if having never been at all.

So too vanished a small bouquet of dried snapdragons.

"Man has created death." - William Butler Yeats
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 4:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

In keeping with the chromatic theme of the evening, Goshen arrived in perfect complement to the arresting beauty on his arm. He wore a handsome, dark Italian suit made of luxe wool that featured a notch-lapel jacket with a two button closure left open over crisp white dress shirt and fitted slacks, an ensemble that accentuated every sinuous line and curve of his evocative, youthful build. Slim, sharp ambrosial features, bright eyes and copper hair, his was magnetic beauty that recalled the haughty superiority of prince like regality.

Together they were the blistering dawn and the gloaming; advent and conclusion. One could not be without the other, a fact made evident by the proprietorial nature of their interactions throughout the evening: the firm hold Goshen frequently made on the younger boy’s trim hip as they made polite conversation with others, the way he commanded the boy’s attention with nothing more than a flash of penetrating eyes or the curve of a silken smile, and how he murmured to him in warm, sotto voce that demanded close proximity. Goshen openly luxuriated in the certainty that Ed remained in all things attractively pliant and obedient to his fingers.

It was a night of shared wide-eyed wonder and adoring gazes, though most of their time on the dance floor was spent choking back laughter for their inability to do more than sway side to side in a tight shape that only vaguely resembled a circle. And when the party drew to a reluctant close in the early hours of the morning, Goshen guided his drowsy date through the line for the elevators, keeping him mostly alert by littering his face and neck with soft kisses and whispered words that dissolved into indistinct sound should anyone near to them appear to be eavesdropping.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 5:01 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

While Isuelt had much on her mind as of late, she showed up representing the Scathachian Sisterhood. As always she was reluctant to let loose, or become too intertwined with the guests. Most people blamed her standoffish tendencies on an uppity personality, some people cited a subpar sense of relationships. For the most part, she kept her interactions brief because she was working. It wasn't unlike the worst of citizens in this city to take advantage of a gathering like this. And even when she had the 'night off' she was always watching out for her friends and the denizens of RhyDin.

Though it was exhausting to go through life waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop, Isuelt stayed alert, spoke with the guests, and even indulged in a few drinks.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 6:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

"Hey, Di."

"Yes, sir?"

"Dis Red'n'Black Gala. We got an invite fer dat?"

"Checking...yes, sir. You have received an invitation."

"Sweet. We got anyt'in' appropriate to wear?"

"I believe you do, sir."

The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.

- Friedrich Nietzche
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 8:50 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Of course Rand and Val would attend - it was a gala, and Jewell was the Empress Hostess with the Mostest, as well as being a dear friend. They weren't necessarily supporters of this Samuel Adder, but it simply would not do to miss such an event. Rand dressed in a simple yet elegant tuxedo, his job to be the handsome backdrop to his stunning wife, resplendent in her black and red dress. Together, they would mingle. Some time and money was spent at the gambling tables, but most of the night they danced or chatted with friends and strangers alike. While Val selected delicately from the available treats, Rand more than made up for it, making sure to sample each at least once.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 9:05 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

During the course of the Gala, a fashionably late arrival appeared in the form of a sleek town car in glossy black. It had taken Ravyn a little cajoling (and a glimpse at what she was wearing for the evening) but she’d managed to convince Cranston that it was worth showing up and seeing what this Adder person had to say. Power deserved watching, after all.

The younger women in robes barely warranted a glance. Peons. It wasn’t until they’d entered, until they’d found the true movers and shakers, that the interest started to bloom. Drinks. Food. Window dressing, minor necessities. A few familiar faces, here and there...but not many. Then again, they weren’t well known in Rhy’din proper, choosing to keep to themselves. Over a year since they’d married, and it seems the honeymoon was hardly over.

Drinks in hand, they visited the tables, losing and winning in equal measure, before making their way over to the man of the hour. A congenial greeting, pressing the flesh. A faint narrowing of the eyes to the press of lips to knuckles. Cordial conversation about idle subjects.

After the tables had lost their draw, and the crowds their luster - or rather, when the desire for other, more private entertainments grew stronger than the amusements offered at the gala, the pair reclaimed their limo, and disappeared into the night.

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 9:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

A Couple of Dames.

Glamor was polished and honed upon the gracious ladies as they stepped out onto the roof of the Imperial Hotel. Gemethyst a curvaceous vixen of a vision in lambent scarlet, the mermaid dress was uncompromising in displaying her hourglass figure. Pharlen embraced the spirits to whom she Sang to, a raven painted boldly over her pale face, her black gown trailing mysteries over a dulcet form.

Pharlen collected undercurrents and whispers as she drifted through the party, arm in arm with the vibrant elfess with her inevitable nose for trouble. And yet, it was simply the quixotic albino with her penchant for bunny suits and the ever polite thief made good as they mingled, listening more than they spoke.

A pale morganite gaze lingered long over Jewell as the woman extolled the virtues of Mr. Adder, the lively eyes of vivid purple took in Faye's appearance, such a rarity. It all revolved around Adder, and Gemethyst followed the flow as if drawn.

At length, Pharlen smilingly introduced herself to Mallory. A kindly if kooky matron of the city, another long distance diva far removed from the press and flow of the streets.

"You helped my son, Desdenova, at the meteor shower. I appreciate that, he can be an impulsive child," she murmured, absently handing Mallory a business card. "If there is anything I can do for you, give me a call."

Pharlen VonTombs. CNUL 345. A phone number. Black ink on high quality white stock.

"Let's dance, dearling, we haven't made any trouble yet tonight," Gemethyst crooned to Pharlen with a wicked twinkle to her eye.

And what could be troublesome about that?

(Written with the incomparable Gem <3)
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