Masquerade Mingle

[thespaceopera]

[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.]]

Comments

[ecclesiophobic]

[Kurt wrinkles his nose at the thought of being grey for longer than another day.] Oh, that's wonderful. I'm going to be blue in patches.

[The warmth of him reminds him, oddly, of Piotr; before the man turned to steel for the last time, before he killed his own wife, when the two of them were still friends. Kurt suppresses the remembered hurt with a smile, refusing to let memories ruin a thoroughly pleasant night.]

I wondered what your name was. We spoke briefly, largely about your friend Jenny. [Kurt begins to lead them in dancing almost as an afterthought, his movements fluid but conservative while he gets the measure of Apollo's ability and comfort.] My name is Kurt Darkholme.

[neversets]

Almost certainly.

[ Apollo sounds entirely too cheerful about that. ]

Yes, we did. You commented about a taste for strong, alcoholic women. Kurt Darkholme, that is an entirely dashing name.

[ecclesiophobic]

Dammit. I should have gone with the Sinbad idea.

[Kurt's ignoring the cheerfulness, in part because he'd be gleeful about dashing someone's hopes as well. The comment about his name gets a wide grin, hiding the part of his brain that's quietly thinking how odd a comment that is for another man to make. He knows, or at least is beginning to suspect. But it's been an age since he flirted before coming here, and the night and company are nice enough that he's loathe to put a stop to it.]

Well of course it is. My name needs to match the rest of me after all. [Like he had anything to do with that.]

[neversets]

Sinbad would also have been an admirable idea. And would have allowed for bare feet.

[ Honestly, Apollo asked him to dance, it's not really very subtle. But, in fairness, he also asked Kitty for a dance, so there is that to be said. ]

Of course it does. Like mine suits my naturally sunny disposition.

[ecclesiophobic]

And bare legs, at least the version I was putting together.

[Dancing means squat to Kurt; he's danced with every member of his team back home.]

Oh, is that why you're named Apollo? Here I thought you were a pagan with hubris.

[neversets]

[ He laughs. ]

Yes, of course it is. A bright, sunny nature is clearly the defining trait about me as a superhero.

[ecclesiophobic]

[Kurt leans in again to mutter, sotto voce:] You wouldn't be the first person I knew whose code name was based on their personality. My sister's powers involved leeching the memories and powers of others, and we called her Rogue.

[neversets]

[ Apollo leans a little closer, enjoying the chance to flirt and just be a guy dancing with a guy. ]

I'm solar powered. And I glow when I used my abilities.

[ecclesiophobic]

[Alcohol is the entire reason Kurt doesn't lean away. He's still alert enough he's beginning to catch on, but relaxed enough not to give a damn. He's a widower and a dead man, and if he wants to enjoy a bit of attention being paid to him then he damn well will.]

Not stealthy at all, are you? [He chuckles, soft and low.]

[neversets]

I am the opposite of stealth, yes. Unless by stealth you mean that I can move faster than many humans can track, so I'm sort of like a stealth missile?

[ He knows full well you didn't mean that, Kurt. ]

[ecclesiophobic]

[It is not at all, but the silliness of it gets a broad grin from Kurt.]

Not a bit. Technically I can get from point A to point B quicker too, but that's not what made me a good spy.

[neversets]

I'm loud, painfully honest and a complete open book with my life and emotions. I am the exact definition of a terrible spy.

[ecclesiophobic]

[The exact opposite of him, as well. Darkholmes lie, tell half-truths to their friends and elaborate stories to their enemies. They also have fun, like dancing tonight with a man whose smile reminds Kurt of people and times long gone.]

But the very picture of a good distraction. Send you in the front while I slip in another way. [He starts to say something else when one of his booted feet slip; barely, and he's compensated for it almost immediately. But Kurt's drank enough, and is unaccustomed enough to his feet slipping at all that his tail automatically winds around Apollo's waist to steady himself. Kurt doesn't notice, aiming a thunderous scowl down at his own feet.] I hate these fucking boots.

[neversets]

continued here