Open Event !! Ball

[absolute_npc]

Who: Open! (so all of you should come right now)
What: Ball Event~!
Where: Ask me later, just pretend you know. It's a really nice hall somewhere.
When: This evening, January 17th :)

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[feverhound]

And then, at the far corner of the room, as far away as possible from the rest of the hubbub, there's Namae, sitting at a windowsill with a bottle of whiskey in hand. Staring silently at everyone else in the room. The only reason he hasn't just picked up the bottle and left, really, is because he knows he's going to go through that bottle really quickly and he can't be assed to leave and come back for a refill.

So there he is, back to the window glass, leaning against the frame, taking lazy drinks straight out of the bottle and wordlessly watching the rest of the ball have a merry fucking time. He's never really understood the point of frivolous events like this, but what the hell, it would be a cruel thing to ruin the mood, yeah? So he's following all the rules (at least for now), not causing a ruckus, and adhering to the dress code -- sure, he looks more like a mafia hitman than a party-goer at the moment, what with the ensemble of stark-black suit-and-tie with a painfully white shirt. Right sleeve ripped off, of course, to keep the mess of bandages around his missing right arm from getting tangled. But hey, formal wear is formal wear -- fashion's not his strong suit anyhow.

Another long swig of the bottle, starting to feel the faint and pleasant buzz of alcohol in his brain, as he watches the people still trickling in. -- really, what the hell's the point of this, anyway?

[spadassin]

It took her a moment, but then a familiar scent caught her attention. It was a mixture of alcohol, rage, and gloom; her lips pulled back in a delighted grin as recognition dawned. Jade eyes swept the room, and she took a few steps to one side, completely bypassing some man who was apparently asking her to dance. His advances meant nothing; she had more important matters to deal with at the moment.

Her eyes landed on him finally, and her smile only widened, baring her pointed canines. Her would-be suitor caught sight of them and decided that he'd much rather spend his time at the refreshment table than attempting to dance with the suddenly fearsome redhead.

She hadn't thought he would bother attending, but there he was, sitting by himself with a crutch of whiskey in his good hand. Smooth as a ghost she swept towards him, heels clicking on the polished floor as she moved, the lights far above them glinting off her pale skin. She approached from the side, and leaned against the window frame next to him, there before he probably even saw her.

"Wonderful evening for a ball, isn't it, Namae?"

[feverhound]

The reaction was instant, and he turned to glare at her, eyes narrowed and lips curved in the beginning of a growl -- but only for a moment. Once recognition had settled in, he only shrugged, leaning back against the window once more, lifting the bottle to his lips.

"It's you," was the apathetic mutter, before he took a long drink -- after which he gave the bottle a shake to gauge how much was left. A little more than halfway. Pity, an excuse to go to the bar again would have been nice. Not bothering to look at Scathach, he turned his glance back to the rest of the party, observing each new figure that joined the hubbub.

And only then he answered her question, giving the verbal equivalent of a shrug. "Don't know. Never cared much for shit like this."

[spadassin]

Jade eyes flickered with joy at the sight of him, so instinctual and ready to pounce. The sight made her feel almost affectionate towards this one-armed, exquisite example of a human being. And the way he forced himself to calm down, oh, it was pure beauty to her eyes. Because he knew he could not compete with her, especially not here, not now. Perhaps afterwards, after dark, in an alleyway where nobody would hear the growls and laughs and sound of skin scraping pavement-

A small pout crossed her lips as he hardly acknowledged her. Ah well. She could dream, as the saying went. Not that she had ever truly been able to, of course.

The redhead slid over to sit next to him, shoulders pressed to the chilly glass; not that she felt a difference, of course. Her skin was probably a degree or two cooler than it anyway. Her bare arm almost brushed the jacket of his coat; she could feel warmth radiating from him even a few inches away. "That would explain the alcohol," she said lightly, tongue flicking over her bottom lip. She didn't have much of a taste for it, but it was nice to pretend now and then.

[feverhound]

He'd ignored her initial approach for a reason, and he continued to ignore her for the same reason -- he knew that starting anything with her would achieve very little to nothing, especially in a crowded and enclosed place like this. And so, he gave little reaction to the movement that came from beside him, only taking another long swig out of the bottle, glass scraping against teeth and liquor providing a wonderfully searing warmth down his throat.

"Shit like this, it's the same no matter the city." Tilting the bottle, he licked off a stray drop that had begun to slide down the neck, and made a vague gesture at the room, where already a handful of people had begun to enter the dance floor. "Fuckin' pointless back where I'm from, too."

A pause, before he canted his head back to give her a narrow-eyed glance, lips curved in a smile that was almost mocking, almost challenging -- but not quite, just barely restrained. "Why're you here? Doubt it's much stimulation for someone like you."

[spadassin]

He had something of a point-these events were terribly relative. She nodded in silent agreement, eyes sweeping over the room with a touch of disgust. There was always booze, gossip, and dancing. Always an affair or two by the end of the night, a few fights if the men got drunk enough. After her first few hundred years of existence, she had grasped this fact quite firmly and had more or less abstained from attending balls and galas since.

In fact, the last time she had been to one at all had been around the time Caesar had fallen from power. That was quite a while, even she had to admit.

For the smile Scatty gave in return, she pulled back her lips to bare her teeth, the abnormally alabaster points gleaming in the light. "I have a date." The statement was simple, and held a touch of a challenge as well. But in her head she wondered why she had accepted the offer. Curiosity? Most likely. Perhaps a bit of longing to blend in with the humani had urged her forward, but she would never let herself think about that for more than a few sparse seconds.

So she turned away from him, crossed her arms and let her head fall gently against the glass. "I have the right to play at being human. If some of you are willing to assist, then I am not one to deny."

[feverhound]

"Aw. A date. How sweet." Words spoken with an edge, stuck somewhere between bored and sarcastic. It was a strange thought, he mused -- which poor sucker had gotten tricked into a night out with this vampire freak? Probably some good-natured shithead who had the tendency to be friendly to everyone. A dry laugh, as he glanced over the rest of the crowd, wondering which of these fuckers would be the lucky gentleman who'd get a night of fun with the specimen beside him.

But oh, the arms crossed hadn't gone unnoticed -- had he hurt her feelings?

"Have fun with that, then." The bottle sloshed audibly as he swirled it around in a restless gesture, offering the other a wry half-smile -- meaning he probably expected her night to not be one of joy so much as it would be rather boring.

Subtlety had never been his strong suit.

[spadassin]

Said poor sucker wasn't around yet, Scatty noted, looking over the floor once more. Red hair and an eye patch-definitely not something a person saw every day. But she was paying more attention for his scent than anything; that was always how she found them. His hadn't mixed in with the rest yet, and she was positive he hadn't entered the hall.

His words and mocking gesture made her metaphorical hackles rise, but she simply sat up and grinned at him. With one swift motion, she snatched the bottle of whiskey from his hand and held it in front of her, examining both the brand and the date. She sniffed the bottle once and then raised the neck to her lips to take one quick swig. She felt none of the characteristic burning of alcohol, of course, but she could almost imagine that she did. Besides, people were looking now, and seeing a petite redhead in a rather flashy dress sitting next to a ragged-looking young man while simultaneously taking shots from a bottle was certainly enough to make their night a bit more interesting.

They probably thought she was a whore, come to think of it, and the thought alone made her smile as she placed the bottle back in Namae's present hand.

"I will indeed," she said quietly, her expression taking on a tone that was a cross between maniacal and sickeningly sweet.