driftfleet | Masquerade Mingle

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Masquerade Mingle

[The night has finally come--the Gravity Rush is nearly upon us! What normally serves as a large performance hall has been gutted, emptied of its boring furniture and rigged up into a fantastical mismatch of technology and old culture. No matter where you go tonight, you're encouraged to move around, dance, play games, whatever helps you sleep in late tomorrow morning.

If you aren't one for scurrying around a ballroom all night, there's always plenty of people-watching to do. After all, so many people are wearing extravagant costumes and elaborate masks. How can you even tell who is who? Get lost in a crowd of sequins, chatter with a sun and a moon, or try to beat the guy in the monster-mask at a game of cards. Meet your friends or make some new ones--this masquerade party has begun!]

[[ooc: All sections are up now, have fun! A related ooc post is HERE for any questions or plotting you'd like to do.]]

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"She did, when she was younger. She used to make me dance with all the little old ladies at family gatherings when I was young. Can you imagine me with even bigger ears and knobby knees, trying to be graceful while my granny lectured me about not having a girlfriend?"

Smiling, he twirls her quickly before returning to their steps.

Oh, she likes the twirling. It gets a little giggle out of her, before she has to ask:

"And was unhappy you didn't have girl friends?" It's said with stress on 'girl', and as of it is two words, because Earth slang is confusing.

He grins at her giggle, pleased to pull such a girlishly happy reaction out of her.

"Oh," he says, trying to think on how to reword it, "I had friends who were girls. But she wanted me to find someone to love. My granny thought I'd never get married and have grandchildren for her. I guess she's right so far."

She's barely into her second decade, and low on joyful experiences. She's more than ready, and willing, to have fun and be the young girl she actually is.

"You have plenty of time to marry and have children. From what I've seen of it, love isn't something you can control. It does what it wants, and we all have to follow its whims."

"If I wanted that... it would have to be after I cut myself off from the crime world."

He wouldn't want to worry about his children like Cobb did. People looking for revenge didn't really care if they got it through that person or their family members.

He smiles at what she says. "I suppose you're right, about love. Have you ever thought about it? Being in love? Or marrying and having children?"

She approves of his choice. It speaks well of his character that he'd think of his children before his profits.

"I used to, when I was little. No sense in it now. But let's not talk of me. Tonight, I want to pretend there's nothing but dancing and costumes and fun." She absolutely refuses to think on things that will only bring a cloud over these festivities.

"This is my first party and I want to enjoy it completely. Beginning to end."

His smile falters. "I... Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

He sweeps her up in his arms and dips her dramatically before she can be sad, grinning down at her. "Only happy things, then."

He sets her right and takes her hand to dance again. "Have you ever had champagne?"

She's not even fussed about the topic, so long as he agrees not to pursue it.

He does get a little surpassed gasp from her when he dips her back. It's not expected, because that is not something she's ever seen done, except when he'd done it to himself that day on the ship, when they'd been playing. Her smile breaks out immediately after though.

"What's champagne?"

"As soon as we've finished this dance, we're going to get some," he tells her with a light laugh. "It's alcohol, but it's really light and bubbly. Don't drink a lot while sitting down."

That might have been what happened the first time he got drunk.

"I doubt it's stronger than dwarven ale, but I'm game." Please, Arthur, the legal drinking age in Faerun is when you're old enough to sneak a pint from the open keg in the kitchens.

"I'm really actually kind of weak when it comes to alcohol," he admits, spinning her. "I much prefer champagne and light wine to stronger alcohol. But I've trained myself to drink hard liquor."

"Trained, huh? That's dedication to the pursuit of passing out on a tavern floor." She has not ever passed out on a tavern floor, but she's seen plenty of sailors and thieves and broke merchants doing just that.

He snorts, giving her a look. "I try not to do anything so undignified. It's more like some men in the dream share business prefer hard liquor and look down on those who can't drink it. Acting tough was part of getting a job back when I first started. I still looked like a baby when I was 22."

He likes to think he looks more like an adult now. He looks over at her curiously. "Do you drink much?"

You still kinda look like a baby Arthur. Sorry.

"I drink as much as is safe, in my line of work." Which means mostly she sticks one pint, unless she can really afford to be vulnerable.

"How old are you?" Yep going back to that because, really he looks so young.

He lets out an impatient huff. "Too young to be acting this old, and too old to look this young."

He really hates looking young. It feels like a vulnerability that he can't hide.

"27." Pause. "How old are you?"

"Younger than you, most likely." Really they can't seem to talk about anything that won't turn a little on it's ear if pointed in her direction. But her age has been a topic of discussion before in the past year, so it doesn't really bother her to say again that she doesn't have a clear answer to that question.

"At the very least, I have managed twenty years of life. Perhaps more."

The song starts to slow, and he slows his feet, feeling like he's doing everything wrong. Eventually, he stops and lowers his head to leave a soft, friendly peck on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I seem to be saying the wrong things tonight."

He pulls away, giving her a strained smile. "You'd think I'd be able to keep a conversation happy for my best friend."

There's something to be said for masks and costumes. When she's dressed up as something else, things are easier. She still blushes at that kiss on her cheek, but her recovery is faster, easier. She reaches out for him immediately as he pulls away and snags his hand in hers, not letting him run off emotionally. Especially not after calling her that.

"Don't. You couldn't swing a proverbial sack in my past without bumping into something that went wrong. I'm fine. This is a good night. I'm having a wonderful time, and maybe I'm not a peace with everything behind me, but I'm dealing with it well. So stop trying to walk on egg shells and take your best friend to that champagne like you promised."

Arthur stops, pausing at the hand in his. And then she has to go and say that. He can feel his ears turning red, and he presses his lips together, nodding.

"Yeah, let's... let's go drink champagne."

He pauses again, and decides to leave his hand in hers, walking her over to the bar they have set up there. "Champagne, please. Two."

He thanks the bartender when he hands Arthur two flutes of champagne, and hands Syeira one of them.

"To a good night?" he toasts her, still a bit bashful from what just happened, but smiling now as he holds out to clink his flute against hers.

She can at least admit to herself she feels a little bad for embarrassing him. But only a little.

She takes the little delicate glass, eyes it briefly because it feel so fragile in her hand. Then she lifts it in toast with him. The little clink they make has her worried for a second that the glass will shatter, but it holds.

"And good friends." And then she drinks. The shape of the glass forces her to sip slower than she would have with a wider brimmed cup, which is likely for the best. He was not joking about the bubbles. They tickle her nose, making her wrinkle it up, eyes closing, she shakes her head shortly.

"It tickles!"

He nods as he drinks. Then he's watching her, chuckling.

"Yep. It's my favorite part," he laughs, patting her shoulder. "Do you like it?"

"It's...interesting." She opens her eyes, gives him a wry, pointed smile. "Weak, but it tastes better than beer, certainly."

He nods with a smile. "Shall we take a load off? Those coaches look comfy," he says, eyes drifting to the couches in the corner of the ballroom.

She doesn't ask what load they are taking off, because he gives her enough context to figure out he means they should sit down.

"I suppose we could sit for a little while." The night is still young. There's plenty of time for a quiet chat.

Mindful of the wings on her back, she sits on the arm of the couch, keeping her knees together to maintain decency.

He sits down on the cushions next to her, sipping at his champagne. "What's your favorite part so far, Syeira? Of the party, I mean."

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child_of_bhaal - 2016-04-27 04:50 (UTC) - Expand

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