Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Printable Version
+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Contemporary (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=71)
+--- Forum: Miscellaneous (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=87)
+--- Thread: Ballroom Blitz [Open] (/showthread.php?tid=613)
+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Contemporary (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=71)
+--- Forum: Miscellaneous (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=87)
+--- Thread: Ballroom Blitz [Open] (/showthread.php?tid=613)
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - megs - 05-24-2015
She laughed again, because he was a delight. Even more delightful was being lead and spun around the room without a hundred pairs of eyes on her. The observations of her protective brother and uneasy guards could make any situation uncomfortable. Another giggle, that was mostly for her own amusement, as she thought of the way the castle would be in an absolute pandemonium with her missing.
She tried not to think of what would happen when she was forced to go back. It was not something worth wasting an evening on.
«I'm not above begging-» she purrs, the statement cut in half in the midst of him spinning her outwards again. When he pulled her back, and held her close, she was grateful for the heels. The tall stilettos elevated her enough that if she leaned forward slightly her mouth could hover near enough to his ear, finishing what she had started. «-for the right prize.»
Her ears flickered together, brushing against the glittering diadem. Who or whatever was in charge of these things, had pinned it well enough that it wasn't thrown out of place. Her hand slipped from his shoulder, to smooth over his lapel pin. «Bored? Of course not. Many things left to know, indeed,» she agrees, tapping the pin lightly with her fingernail. «And it is certainly too early to be embarrassed so thoroughly.»
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Tindome - 05-24-2015
She learned things as she explored, walking the confines like a caged animal, though mostly from eavesdropping on the other guests. Staring through the glass brought her nothing but rainbows and the barest glimpse of stars. Up, down, in every direction, stars. She couldn't find the moon, if there was one. If there were two. Just stars, endlessly, buried in color. Eavesdropping taught her the purpose of the opals on her wrist, and that leaving was permanent. She still wanted to test it, to see if she could find someone who could take her back to the place they'd come from. But that would have to wait. She wouldn't risk it until day seven. She couldn't. It seemed like her feet ought to have been hurting, after walking so much in heels she wasn't used to, but they didn't.
Nadine didn't know any dances that suited this music, and no one was offering, besides.
A server approached, and she almost didn't notice them at first. Champagne, everywhere champagne, and for once in her life alcohol did not appeal. This one, however, carried something different. She looked at the tray, and blinked, processing on a delay for the sheer incongruity of it. "You're shitting me," she said aloud, the first thing she'd said since she'd gotten here.
That was not champagne. That was a burger. That was, of all the goddamn things, a double-double animal style with a side of fries and a bottle of Coke.
If she burst into tears because of a goddamn burger she was going to throw herself off a balcony.
Biting her tongue, she took the offered items, careful not to spill anything as the faceless waiter – waitress? – departed. She looked around for somewhere to eat that was not the middle of a ballroom, and there was a hallway she could have sworn was not there. As soon as she entered it there was silence, so quiet she could hear her own heart and the rustle of her dress as she moved. The first door she found went to a solarium, and the air in it was thick with the smell of flowers. She walked in silence until she found a wrought-iron bench beneath a flowering wisteria, where she sat gracelessly down and set her food down beside her.
This was fine. Everything was fine.
Her throat felt small, and she forced herself to take a small sip of the soda. It burned on her tongue, unused to the carbonation. After great deliberation, she ate a single french fry. Her subsequent giggle had a touch of hysteria, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep it from getting out of control. "I should have asked for ketchup," she said between her fingers, breaking the silence, and then she giggled again.
Nadine didn't know any dances that suited this music, and no one was offering, besides.
A server approached, and she almost didn't notice them at first. Champagne, everywhere champagne, and for once in her life alcohol did not appeal. This one, however, carried something different. She looked at the tray, and blinked, processing on a delay for the sheer incongruity of it. "You're shitting me," she said aloud, the first thing she'd said since she'd gotten here.
That was not champagne. That was a burger. That was, of all the goddamn things, a double-double animal style with a side of fries and a bottle of Coke.
If she burst into tears because of a goddamn burger she was going to throw herself off a balcony.
Biting her tongue, she took the offered items, careful not to spill anything as the faceless waiter – waitress? – departed. She looked around for somewhere to eat that was not the middle of a ballroom, and there was a hallway she could have sworn was not there. As soon as she entered it there was silence, so quiet she could hear her own heart and the rustle of her dress as she moved. The first door she found went to a solarium, and the air in it was thick with the smell of flowers. She walked in silence until she found a wrought-iron bench beneath a flowering wisteria, where she sat gracelessly down and set her food down beside her.
This was fine. Everything was fine.
Her throat felt small, and she forced herself to take a small sip of the soda. It burned on her tongue, unused to the carbonation. After great deliberation, she ate a single french fry. Her subsequent giggle had a touch of hysteria, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep it from getting out of control. "I should have asked for ketchup," she said between her fingers, breaking the silence, and then she giggled again.
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Tindome - 05-25-2015
What fun she was having, this bold cat, making herself quite comfortable in his arms. Young and impetuous, that was what she tasted like; she was not small, but it was that taste which made him think her a kitten. She flirted shamelessly, the kind of behavior that would have her labeled a tart in the land that he had left. He quite preferred the way they did things where she was from, if this was acceptable behavior.
But maybe it wasn't. She had that thrill of the forbidden dancing around in her, after all. Perhaps she was using this masquerade to misbehave. What fun.
«I know what I might offer you,» he said, low and with a knowing glint in his eye. «But what sort of prize would tempt you, I wonder? Surely you have no need of treasures. You have me at a loss, Julianna, when I possess nothing within these walls but my own skin.» He smiled as her hand left his shoulder, tapping against his ominous pin. «You flatter me, Kitten,» he purred, the irony not lost on him. He did so adore to be flattered. «For your mercy, I shall wait until later to embarrass you, as is your preference.»
There was no one at his own estate whose concern particularly concerned him. It had been centuries since anyone had any kind of authority over him. Elijah had been gone for a few of them, and it was likely to be a while more before he returned. There was Alisdair, of course; but he had a wanderlust in him, and he too was unlikely to return in René's absence. Assuming that he was gone at all, assuming that he was not dreaming. There was no one who might miss him but lovers or servants, and he did not particularly care for the opinions of either. Most of those lovers would be discarded soon, anyway. In the light of this particular jewel, he was realizing just how much many of them bored him. Passingly pleasurable meals, and little more.
But maybe it wasn't. She had that thrill of the forbidden dancing around in her, after all. Perhaps she was using this masquerade to misbehave. What fun.
«I know what I might offer you,» he said, low and with a knowing glint in his eye. «But what sort of prize would tempt you, I wonder? Surely you have no need of treasures. You have me at a loss, Julianna, when I possess nothing within these walls but my own skin.» He smiled as her hand left his shoulder, tapping against his ominous pin. «You flatter me, Kitten,» he purred, the irony not lost on him. He did so adore to be flattered. «For your mercy, I shall wait until later to embarrass you, as is your preference.»
There was no one at his own estate whose concern particularly concerned him. It had been centuries since anyone had any kind of authority over him. Elijah had been gone for a few of them, and it was likely to be a while more before he returned. There was Alisdair, of course; but he had a wanderlust in him, and he too was unlikely to return in René's absence. Assuming that he was gone at all, assuming that he was not dreaming. There was no one who might miss him but lovers or servants, and he did not particularly care for the opinions of either. Most of those lovers would be discarded soon, anyway. In the light of this particular jewel, he was realizing just how much many of them bored him. Passingly pleasurable meals, and little more.
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - megs - 05-25-2015
Julianna behaved this way all of the time, and it was much to the displeasure of her brother, but that only made it more entertaining. She was flirtatious and simpering; an expert in well-timed giggles and coquettish glances across a room. In truth, she was not aware of what was considered acceptable where she was from. She was stuck in the castle and people usually came to her. She did not venture very far outside the grounds, but she was more than happy to use her position to do as she pleased.
Their conversation continued so casually, as if they'd not been dancing at all. She wondered if eyes would be on her, because she did so love being watched, but she kept her gaze on him, because he was very, very pretty. «Treasures, in the traditional sense, no certainly not.» She was truly up to her ears in shiny trinkets or expensive baubles, and she found herself somewhat desensitized to things others would consider of material value. People, on the other hand, people were fascinating. She could not collect them as she did other things, but she could covet at the very least.
«Is that what you would offer, then? Your skin?» Her ears pressed forward, and she quite liked the purring edges of his tone. She discontinued toying with the glittering accessory, and followed the line of his jaw with her finger. «Oh, and what lovely skin it is.»
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - euphoricvoodoo - 05-28-2015
The invitation was nearly lost amongst the spread of papers on her desk. There were recipes, menus, receipts and bills strewn about in her semblance of organization; invitations however were not in that pile which made Valas frown all the harder at it. It hadn't been there last night when she was working either. And what a peculiar thing it was too talking about green doors instead of giving an address. Nevertheless when her pantry door was suddenly green she didn't hesitate to walk through.The mirrors in the room showed her which was something of a relief. Methyl blue skin, four arms, three violet eyes, curly navy hair, fin shaped ears and a flat nose were all present and accounted for. One could never be too sure with some of the crazier things in the universe. What was odd though was how she was dressed now. A gold and white human style dress like the ones high society ladies were now wearing only this was far more accommodating for an extra set of shoulders. The gold sandals were more like what she was familiar with wearing. Her hair was done up fancy with a gold vine running through it. The gold lacy mask winding it's way around her eyes and a flower shaped ring were her only accessories. All in all it wasn't a bad look just very odd to see when she wasn't wearing anything like it before. Satisfied that she was all herself, she pushed open the door and stepped cautiously into the ballroom.
It was the biggest room she'd ever seen containing an astonishingly interesting crowd. Most of them were human as far as she could tell though here and there were people who didn't look quite the same. She was the only Xainorian though. The music wasn't something she recognized and the dances were foreign to her as well. At least she could understand what they were saying even if she wasn't sure how. Her curiosity was well and truly piqued even if she didn't quite have the courage to just jump into it all. Instead she stayed along the walls observing.
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Tindome - 05-31-2015
René's grin was the stuff of nightmares – a fox in the henhouse, indeed. Someone else may have feared for the safety of their finger. «Flattery, flattery,» he repeated, and it was not a complaint. His fingertips danced at the small of her back even as they moved, and it was fortunate for her dress that he did not keep his nails long on both hands. «But what possible use could you have for mine,» he wondered, «when you have such lovely skin of your own?» The hand holding hers stroked her thumb with his. «I would find yours much more tempting than my own.»
Ordinarily, he would not be able to get away with dancing with a single partner for so long. Not unless he wanted it taken as a statement of intent, which he absolutely never did. And ordinarily, he might try to sneak away with her to some hidden alcove, some balcony, where he could threaten her virtue away from prying eyes. Yet there were no balconies, here, no pretty follies to set a romantic mood. To steal her away from the ballroom would be forward in and of itself.
René had not always cared for rules, in his nature to be a wild thing. But he had learned the value in them, the way to twist them to his liking and turn them into a shield, and now he made it his business to learn rules and their limits. Were there rules, here? He was certainly going to find out.
«But I suppose the question is not what you find tempting,» he said, as he maneuvered them to a standstill with her back to a column. He still held her hand, but the one that had been at her back braced against the column instead, the other dancers still moving around them as if nothing at all had happened. «It is whether you would beg for it.» He smelled faintly of roses and more strongly of sandalwood, soft skin and sharp teeth and lean muscle. Either he would frighten her, or he would arouse her – or even both – but either way he would like to savor the taste. Wanted to wring her out, pull something stronger from her to make her stand out better in the crowd, standing bright-eyed in a sea of pleasantries and delight.
Ordinarily, he would not be able to get away with dancing with a single partner for so long. Not unless he wanted it taken as a statement of intent, which he absolutely never did. And ordinarily, he might try to sneak away with her to some hidden alcove, some balcony, where he could threaten her virtue away from prying eyes. Yet there were no balconies, here, no pretty follies to set a romantic mood. To steal her away from the ballroom would be forward in and of itself.
René had not always cared for rules, in his nature to be a wild thing. But he had learned the value in them, the way to twist them to his liking and turn them into a shield, and now he made it his business to learn rules and their limits. Were there rules, here? He was certainly going to find out.
«But I suppose the question is not what you find tempting,» he said, as he maneuvered them to a standstill with her back to a column. He still held her hand, but the one that had been at her back braced against the column instead, the other dancers still moving around them as if nothing at all had happened. «It is whether you would beg for it.» He smelled faintly of roses and more strongly of sandalwood, soft skin and sharp teeth and lean muscle. Either he would frighten her, or he would arouse her – or even both – but either way he would like to savor the taste. Wanted to wring her out, pull something stronger from her to make her stand out better in the crowd, standing bright-eyed in a sea of pleasantries and delight.
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Tindome - 06-01-2015
Misery Mallory did not go to parties, because parties did not go well for her. They were nice enough in theory, all pretty dresses and pretty people. There was a ballroom in her house, and sometimes she sat on the floor and thought about theoretical parties. She certainly had enough ballgowns, even if none of them fit quite right. Too pear-shaped for hand-me-down hourglass dresses.
She went through the green door mostly because she couldn't remember where it went. The fact that it was new did not occur to her. She was very surprised to find herself somewhere she did not recognize, in a lovely blue gown that fit her perfectly. A mask that resembled a butterfly matched it, and a lovely silk ribbon around her neck carried seven opals.
More peculiar than any of that was that all her bruises were gone, and her bandages. Scars remained, but her cuts had all healed themselves quite suddenly.
"I must be dreaming," she decided, her voice as small and as airy as ever. Honey-colored waves had been tamed for what might have been the first time in her life, wound into braids and wrapped around her head. She was scared to touch herself, in case she ruined it. It did not occur to her that her ability to see without glasses was strange. Slippered flats rather than heels ensured that she could walk without tipping over, so she lifted her skirt very carefully so that she could leave the foyer.
Goodness, but what an awful lot of people. Large brown eyes were wide as saucers as she retreated against a wall for safety. Sidling sideways to avoid the sweeping skirts of dancers, she bumped into another wallflower.
"Oh I'm sorry I wasn't looking where I was going I didn't mean to oh my what a pretty dress is your skin supposed to be that color no that was rude I shouldn't have asked that I'm sorry."
She went through the green door mostly because she couldn't remember where it went. The fact that it was new did not occur to her. She was very surprised to find herself somewhere she did not recognize, in a lovely blue gown that fit her perfectly. A mask that resembled a butterfly matched it, and a lovely silk ribbon around her neck carried seven opals.
More peculiar than any of that was that all her bruises were gone, and her bandages. Scars remained, but her cuts had all healed themselves quite suddenly.
"I must be dreaming," she decided, her voice as small and as airy as ever. Honey-colored waves had been tamed for what might have been the first time in her life, wound into braids and wrapped around her head. She was scared to touch herself, in case she ruined it. It did not occur to her that her ability to see without glasses was strange. Slippered flats rather than heels ensured that she could walk without tipping over, so she lifted her skirt very carefully so that she could leave the foyer.
Goodness, but what an awful lot of people. Large brown eyes were wide as saucers as she retreated against a wall for safety. Sidling sideways to avoid the sweeping skirts of dancers, she bumped into another wallflower.
"Oh I'm sorry I wasn't looking where I was going I didn't mean to oh my what a pretty dress is your skin supposed to be that color no that was rude I shouldn't have asked that I'm sorry."
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - megs - 06-03-2015
She may have faltered at the sight of such a grin, unaccustomed to variable displays of expression. She pulled her finger away from his face and hid her earlier startle, with a throaty chuckle that vaguely resembled the rolling sound of a purr. «Perhaps I am more interested in a… study.» Ears pressed forward, as eyes flickered to where their hands were clasped together. «Yes. A study in just how lovely pale skin looks pressed against dark.»
All this talk of skin and begging, should not have excited her the way it did. He held her close and was still tall enough that she had to look up at him. It displayed her throat and the shower of opals across it, and she should have been concerned about being so vulnerable.
Being away from home made her feel reckless. Which was the opposite of the effect it should have had. None of these people knew her, and she felt safety in the anonymity. What could anyone here possibly gain from harming her? So, so foolish to think that only court machinations would be the death of her.
There was a brief flicker of fear in her. As she was pinned to a column, there was a twitch to her ears and a widening of her eyes that gave her away. Not a true fear, more like a thrill. The brief idea of potentially being alone with a strange man, that shot a chill down her spine. He smelled warm and floral, where she was all juniper berries and snow on pine trees. She would think that he smelled inviting, if she knew him better.
«I usually only beg when I know I will get what I want for it,» her tone seemed to imply that for this she would be making an exception. She looked out at him from behind the colorful mask, composed of coy smiles and challenging glances. She continued to hold his hand because she liked the contact, and it was not like he had released her either. «And how would you have me beg, René? If all that lovely, alabaster skin was the prize?»
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - euphoricvoodoo - 06-04-2015
Valas quite liked this party she decided. Any party she didn't have to cook for was obviously superior but even beyond that it was just wonderful. The guests were all so different than anyone she'd ever seen before. Despite the trade back home, she didn't see people with cat ears or people that could only have been three feet tall. The bubbly drink the white masked waiters were handing out was good and even the music was growing on her. Her nerve was still not up to joining in to anything though. Everything was so interesting to watch she might have stood there all night doing just that had someone not bumped right into her. If voices could be felt, the one that apologized to her would be a soft breeze it was so light. The rest of her was light to match funnily enough. As an adult she'd seen humans at the ports and shopping areas enough that she'd seen blond hair. There was still something left of a child-like urge that insisted she touch it because there was nothing of it's like in her people. It was something she resisted though. Humans tended to be somewhat touchier about that sort of thing. She instead put a hand on the woman's shoulder, smiled and laughed.
"No don't worry! There is so much to see how could you watch where you are going?" Valas' own voice was deeper that the blond's and bolder besides. A voice for giving orders over the din of cooking when she pitched it right. Their conversations would contrast a great deal to the ears of anyone listening. "I am supposed to be this color."
She wondered how long it would take the girl to start noticing her other odd features. She hoped not long. Her social life lately was filled with far too much politeness so this was more refreshing and amusing than anything else.
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Tindome - 06-05-2015
Her startlement was salt and fat, marrow sucked from the bone to coat his tongue. Such tricky work to keep it from curdling bitter into terror, but easier with her sort. No lowly peasant playing at princess, this; ladies had the luxury of never learning true fear. A woman not so pampered needed only to know that he was large and he was male to sour at the sight of him, needing far more coaxing to find him pleasant. That was why he liked fine ladies best.
That, and they were far more delicate. There was beauty and refinement in delicacy, but delicate at its core meant easier to break. It was almost decadent, the way a lady's heart could burst.
«A veritable bluestocking,» he said, «studious as you are. How fortunate, to have met such an experienced teacher! I would be quite pleased to tutor you, if you are willing. I confess, my lessons may be too advanced; but I would, of course, endeavor not to overwhelm you.»
Lies, pretty lies, because it was ever his goal to overwhelm the senses. What a lovely show of her throat, as if she did not know him for the predator he was. Maybe she didn't. She was carnivorous enough, and that did not stop her from being prey.
«You would be lovely however you begged,» he assured her, as if this were a flattering thing. «But if I were to have my way,» he mused, and his face came near to hers, black curls brushing her face and blending seamlessly with the shadow of his mask, «I think I might have trouble hearing you at all, with your thighs to muffle the sound.»
That, and they were far more delicate. There was beauty and refinement in delicacy, but delicate at its core meant easier to break. It was almost decadent, the way a lady's heart could burst.
«A veritable bluestocking,» he said, «studious as you are. How fortunate, to have met such an experienced teacher! I would be quite pleased to tutor you, if you are willing. I confess, my lessons may be too advanced; but I would, of course, endeavor not to overwhelm you.»
Lies, pretty lies, because it was ever his goal to overwhelm the senses. What a lovely show of her throat, as if she did not know him for the predator he was. Maybe she didn't. She was carnivorous enough, and that did not stop her from being prey.
«You would be lovely however you begged,» he assured her, as if this were a flattering thing. «But if I were to have my way,» he mused, and his face came near to hers, black curls brushing her face and blending seamlessly with the shadow of his mask, «I think I might have trouble hearing you at all, with your thighs to muffle the sound.»
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Tindome - 06-05-2015
Missy flinched when she was touched, because she always did; but she settled quickly when the hand in question was kind. She kept her eyes low as a matter of habit, usually near her feet but now somewhere around the other woman's waistline, easy to miss things that ought to have been obvious. "It's a very pretty color," she said. "My hair was blue for a while but that was an accident and then it all got cut off but it was still sort of pretty and I think it's probably nicer to be that color on purpose."
She ventured to look higher, if only briefly, which was not to say she was yet feeling bold enough to do anything like make eye contact. For a moment, involuntarily, she stared. Then she looked away abruptly, blinking as she averted her eyes to the floor. She clasped her hands, and almost immediately was wringing them together.
"This might be a silly question," she said, "actually I'm sure that it is but do you know where I am? Because I thought that I was dreaming but usually my dreams are very boring really and you don't look like anyone I've ever had in my dreams, and none of this really seems like the kinds of things I dream about, but if I'm awake then I'm not really sure where I am or if I'm supposed to be here. You won't tell anyone if I'm not supposed to be here, will you?"
She ventured to look higher, if only briefly, which was not to say she was yet feeling bold enough to do anything like make eye contact. For a moment, involuntarily, she stared. Then she looked away abruptly, blinking as she averted her eyes to the floor. She clasped her hands, and almost immediately was wringing them together.
"This might be a silly question," she said, "actually I'm sure that it is but do you know where I am? Because I thought that I was dreaming but usually my dreams are very boring really and you don't look like anyone I've ever had in my dreams, and none of this really seems like the kinds of things I dream about, but if I'm awake then I'm not really sure where I am or if I'm supposed to be here. You won't tell anyone if I'm not supposed to be here, will you?"
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Blade - 06-12-2015
She recalled the moment it had come into her possession, an envelope of crisp white with gilded golden designs. She had turned it over in her bare hand several times, ice blues laden with curiosity. The language written in it was known throughout the realm, spoken by her people and many others; though, it was not a tongue native to any one species. It had come about for matters of diplomacy and commerce so that many others could speak together without barrier.The little red heart of wax and the smell of roses were easily noted and made it all the more curious. This was especially true because Calandra had spent the better part of the day exhausting herself listening to the troubles of others. Acting as Draco’s liaison, which was satisfactory because she was the temple’s high priestess, left her more worn today than ever before.
It would not do to go. She had too much to do. People expected her day after day to listen, to advise, to mend hearts, and heal broken bonds between others. Some part of her lamented at being so sought after, wishing for a moment to rest and forgo her giving smile. She adored her duty, but there were times when she wanted to sleep or to do something for herself. There was woe in being so kind all of the day. Her favorite ones, few as they were, left her tending the fields with others so that her tribe might have plenty to store for the winter. She did not have to worry about the plants expecting too much from her aside from watering and the picking of weeds, or, the occasional time she used her ability to heal and rejuvenate. Healing the greenery was less taxing than healing the mind, after all—than allowing others to see all that they needed to within themselves and without.
This is what she told herself once the decision was made. Though, when she left the temple that night to go home, to take the long walk under the stars and tree boughs, she had stopped in the path when the green door appeared. Something had shifted, and, she told herself that she wouldn’t be gone longer than an hour or so. No one would miss her during that time. Surely her mother would understand the need for a little time to herself.
The knob turned with ease, and something swallowed her in gaiety as the change overtook her. She felt something magical and swathing. A mask swept over her face and the emission of power receded.
She found herself looking at her reflection, reaching up and touching the white mask glittering with crystal white and blue rhinestones. Some dangled off the sides like earrings, little drops looking like icicle tears. Her cold blues seemed to pop behind it. Her silver-white hair, usually bound in a long braid to keep from trailing the ground beneath her, was half woven in a series of knots that cascaded down her back to the bend of her knees. There were jeweled pins it, some of them looking like Draco’s scales. The dress she donned felt comfortable; it was very a traditional festival gown made of the softest white gauze-like material she’d ever worn. It flowed off her body like a (what some would call) Grecian gown, but revealed more of her skin than her clothing beforehand. Some of it was blue, much of it was see-through. Her legs, sides, back, the conclave between her breasts and along the side of them, and her stomach went mostly uncovered, as was the summer tradition of her people. The elves would call it too immodest, as would the magai, but it had never been as such among her people.
Her feet were not bear, but instead tucked into sandals decorated in the same rhinestones on her mask. The gems hung from her ears, her neck, wrists, and rings with them also adorned her fingers. Some might have felt naked, but Calandra felt… invigorated and relaxed. The cool of winter had been closing in—fall had been upon them back home. More clothing had been required, and she always preferred the less encumbered attire of the summer.
Sandals clicked as she moved away from the mirror and stepped into the ballroom. The strips of fabric around her legs slipped and moved as she went, shades of soft blue and white morphing as a pale alabaster leg appeared and faded underneath, half seen beyond the material as going. She found her hand settling on a wall, watching the motion of the dancers quietly as she thought about what to do with her time.
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - euphoricvoodoo - 06-14-2015
If Valas found the flinch concerning she didn't say anything. Her mind came up with a variety of reasons to explain it chief of which strange blue hands coming at her. She also didn't mention the disconcerting way the blond wouldn't look up at her. This was chalked up to a cultural difference; on Xainor it was considered rude to not look someone in the eye. "Well thank you. It would be rather difficult to dye your skin blue on accident or otherwise, so yes I suppose it is nicer. Shame about your hair though; I would think blue would be a lovely color for you."She caught the momentary stare and flashed what she hoped was a encouraging smile. The woman snapped her eyes down again so fast though it was difficult to be certain whether or not she had seen it. After all her mouth and teeth were the same as humans so they would not be the features being stared at. The nervous hand gesture and the next words spoken concerned her more than the previous actions. Her lower arms slowly moved to cover the girl's hands with her own to try to comfort her as much as she could.
"It's not a silly question. At one point I would have said we were in my pantry but it is not this expansive. I am not certain where we are at all. I don't think this is a dream though. I am not usually the only blue person in my dreams. What I am certain of is that if you are here you are supposed to be here. Whatever this is I would not think it would allow anyone but the intended people in. Regardless even if you did not belong here and I could figure out who to tell I would not." There were some that said Valas was too kind but she did not care much for their opinion. There seemed to be plenty of food and drink to go around. Each guest she saw with food had something different even. How though she did not know.
Custom orders could not be done in most cases. Even if you knew ahead of time what each guest would want the budget alone would be a nightmare never mind the logistics. She didn't even think she smelled food cooking and this didn't look anything like the crap some technology could spit out. Her mind wandered for a moment back to the old legends of her people. The ones where Aftia could turn rocks into bread and Camjir crumbled a mountain side to get stone to build houses for his village. Scientists said that the stories of the past were just myths and their people had no magic. The mountain with a side cut smoothly off was an interesting thing to see though. "Slightly silly question for you. Do you know anything about magic? I'm starting to suspect that may be what we're dealing with here."
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Tindome - 06-17-2015
Niyol was down to four bright opals framing the large turquoise in the silver circlet in his hair. Three dull and matte, three days out of the desert, three days without his sister. Three days without anyone trying to give him an order. He could get used to that.
The clothes were all thin and light, completely impractical back home; none of this was the sort of thing he would have worn to a formal event under ordinary circumstances. But being the only man shirtless would have been awkward, so. It sort of worked out. It wasn't quite the kind of suit he associated with outsiders, either, and he didn't know enough to know that it was a sherwani. He thought he didn't look half bad, anyway. He did get a few familiar things, the leather in his braid and a bone choker around his neck. The white made his skin look darker, but since some people here were blue and green, he didn't stand out all that much. His white leather mask covered half his face, was shaped to evoke a coyote. It felt appropriate, if a little heretical.
He'd figured out early on to go after the women with only one opal left. A built-in expiration date, a time limit. Here today, gone tomorrow, and never any risk that it might be otherwise. No one to ever get mad at him in the morning for the things he'd done the night before. If it could be called night. There wasn't really a sun. Or a moon. Or even any changes in lighting.
The trickier part was getting women to do the filthy things that were his preference. He could not, unfortunately, just pay them. Everyone here was on equal terms, which was horribly uncomfortable for him. It meant he had to be charming.
He could do charming. He wasn't half bad at it, in his own estimation. But damned if it wouldn't have been easier to just pay for it. He'd even had to learn how to dance, although that had worked in his favor, coaxing the woman who'd taught him to spend time with him. Did everyone but him know how to do these terrible dances? It felt like being in one of his sister's awful old novels.
He sipped champagne as he scoped the room for his next… partner. They stopped on white – not just her dress, but her hair and her skin, pale as snowflakes he'd never had the privilege of seeing.
Niyol was absolutely going to need to find out how many days she had left.
He didn't stare at her or approach her directly, instead opting to wander this way and that through the room until he had meandered near the glass where she had positioned herself. Closer, he could see that there was more skin and less dress than there had appeared to be from a distance. Yes. Good. He could also see that she was the same height as him. Less good. Tall women felt like home and a smack upside the head. She was pretty and pale and exotic and half-naked, so he'd overlook it. Even if he'd be happier to have her on her knees.
"Hate to be a bother," he said as he sidled up beside her, the lazy desert drawl he'd adopted to compensate for his natural accent and the tendency to clip his vowels short. "I know I'm just setting myself up for heartbreak, a lovely lady like you," he said, and he flashed a grin as bright as his eyes were dark. His head cocked a little, eyes raking over her to try and divine how long she'd been at the masquerade and lingering a little on bare skin. "But are you spoken for?"
The clothes were all thin and light, completely impractical back home; none of this was the sort of thing he would have worn to a formal event under ordinary circumstances. But being the only man shirtless would have been awkward, so. It sort of worked out. It wasn't quite the kind of suit he associated with outsiders, either, and he didn't know enough to know that it was a sherwani. He thought he didn't look half bad, anyway. He did get a few familiar things, the leather in his braid and a bone choker around his neck. The white made his skin look darker, but since some people here were blue and green, he didn't stand out all that much. His white leather mask covered half his face, was shaped to evoke a coyote. It felt appropriate, if a little heretical.
He'd figured out early on to go after the women with only one opal left. A built-in expiration date, a time limit. Here today, gone tomorrow, and never any risk that it might be otherwise. No one to ever get mad at him in the morning for the things he'd done the night before. If it could be called night. There wasn't really a sun. Or a moon. Or even any changes in lighting.
The trickier part was getting women to do the filthy things that were his preference. He could not, unfortunately, just pay them. Everyone here was on equal terms, which was horribly uncomfortable for him. It meant he had to be charming.
He could do charming. He wasn't half bad at it, in his own estimation. But damned if it wouldn't have been easier to just pay for it. He'd even had to learn how to dance, although that had worked in his favor, coaxing the woman who'd taught him to spend time with him. Did everyone but him know how to do these terrible dances? It felt like being in one of his sister's awful old novels.
He sipped champagne as he scoped the room for his next… partner. They stopped on white – not just her dress, but her hair and her skin, pale as snowflakes he'd never had the privilege of seeing.
Niyol was absolutely going to need to find out how many days she had left.
He didn't stare at her or approach her directly, instead opting to wander this way and that through the room until he had meandered near the glass where she had positioned herself. Closer, he could see that there was more skin and less dress than there had appeared to be from a distance. Yes. Good. He could also see that she was the same height as him. Less good. Tall women felt like home and a smack upside the head. She was pretty and pale and exotic and half-naked, so he'd overlook it. Even if he'd be happier to have her on her knees.
"Hate to be a bother," he said as he sidled up beside her, the lazy desert drawl he'd adopted to compensate for his natural accent and the tendency to clip his vowels short. "I know I'm just setting myself up for heartbreak, a lovely lady like you," he said, and he flashed a grin as bright as his eyes were dark. His head cocked a little, eyes raking over her to try and divine how long she'd been at the masquerade and lingering a little on bare skin. "But are you spoken for?"
Ballroom Blitz [Open] - Blade - 06-17-2015
Cool blues the color of frozen ice watched with interest as people folded in and out of one another in the middle of the floor. She was not clinging to the wall, but to some it might look that way. It wasn’t entirely odd, the dancing… It reminded her of the kind of dances she’d seen at the capitol—in Elysian. Not the least bit common among her tribe, not at all. The one time she had gone on behalf of her people, in place of the chief, she had not known what to do. And she had never quite learned either. But, that had been alright. At some point one of her own tradition—one of another tribe—had lead one the floor and she had joined in—clapping hands, weaving bodies, drumbeats, and smiles.So many here looked different. She did not see another Traygon, half wondering if she were the only one. How many were from her world? She might have thought it a dream, this moment in misplaced time, but magick was commonplace where she came from. It could be nothing but real.
Her aura expanded and she could sense so much going on, more than in just this room. This place, wherever it was, unnatural and lovely in its own way, was far bigger than it appeared. And yet, despite the desire to fold into the dreamscape, she could not help but want to know more.
And then something prickled at her senses. Cool blues turned toward a figure approaching her. He was tall, skin dark and hair darker still. The long ebony strands made her think of her people as much as the leathers and bone beads did--the mask of a coyote. Many of her kind were pale skinned, as pale as she was. But, there were some still whose skin held the same tint as his. It reminded her a lot of home, the way he looked, and yet didn’t. Was he a familiar face? As he drew closer she could see that he was not; were he, perhaps he was a member of a different tribe altogether and she did not know him.
When he spoke she realized she did not recognize his dialect, not entirely… it was… there was something in it. And the tongue he chose was common among the species in her land, just as the letter had been written in. It was tempting to speak to him in her own people’s language, but she did not think anymore that he was one of her own—of her tribe or another. And had she met him before, it would be difficult for one such as Calandra to forget him.
“You are not a bother,” she said to him softly, meeting his dark gaze. Her voice was soothing to ear, not too harsh or soft. Not too cold and not too warm. It did not lack emotion; rather, it was just the way of her. Her voice, among other things, was likely why she had been selected to work in the temple.
She smiled gently, glancing once at the dancers for a brief moment as he commented on her beauty. It was not the first or the last time someone had said as much, but she appreciated it all the same. His grin, also, felt a little infectious. And she could tell, just by the way he gave her the once over, that he had more in mind than conversation. He tried to hide it, perhaps, under a rough veneer; however, she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind the wording either.
She looked at him again then, holding his gaze without fear of whatever intentions he had as she laughed softly. Not at him, no, but at his attempt at charm. It relaxed and soothed something within her. And for once, she didn’t have to keep the guise intact. “I am not taken, Maca. Tell me, has your heart been broken before?”