Brawling at the ball
WHO: Gaara (
scornfulsands ), Dilandau Albatou (
zaibachs_best ), Temari (
wind_wielder ), Lee (
greenstockings ), Kankuro (
claycrow )
WHEN: During the Ball
SUMMARY: Gaara discovers drink, Dilandau tries to discover more about his date. Lee defends his One True Love, and the older sand silblings try to keep the peace.
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: Flirting, fighting, possible bad language
STATUS: In-Progress
Dilandau wasn't too surprised when Temari was whisked off onto the dance floor, given the brevity of her dress. It pleased him, that so many men admired the woman he'd claimed as his date, for now they'd be forced to acknowledge his obvious superiority.
His other date seemed to be content standing by his elbow, though it was hard to tell with Gaara what he was thinking. The sheen of the sand shield covering him, along with the blank expression, made him appear more like a porcelain doll than a flesh-and-blood human being. Dilandau glanced round the refectory, quickly picking out Kankuro and noting his distraction. This appeared to be an opportune moment to try to move to a more personal level with the red-headed enigma. Glancing sideways through mascaraed lashes, he murmered to Gaara.
"Let's go and find something to drink. We'll start looking pathetic soon if we stand round on the side of the dance floor and I doubt you'll be willing to deal with all the touching involved in a dance." There, an offer to a shared activity, a bit of empathy and a subtle threat of social humiliation. That ought to get the Kazekage moving as he wanted.
Gaara wasn't ordinarily easily manipulated. He had a natural suspicion of everyone around him, honed through years of attacks and hostility. However, this place had a tendency to wear on a person and the Kazekage, insomnia and all, was no exception to it. He frowned, green eyes slanting up and to the side towards his mutual shared 'date,' the only outward sign that he'd heard him.
"The food might be drugged like last time," he spoke finally, less a protest than quietly spoken fact. Still, despite his trepidations, he followed the slightly taller man towards the punch bowl. There were others milling about, hopefully awkward in efforts to make small talk and smaller connections. Gaara didn't bother with either.
Dilandau, carefully ladling punch into two glasses, chuckled darkly at the observation.
"I'm sure it is, but the Host's enough of a sadist that we'll suffer more if we don't have a few bites." He turned and presented Gaara a flimsy plastic cup, taking a sip of his own. He grinned in sudden suprise and took a few more gulps, getting himself another helping.
"Finally, something decent tasting!" The Host must be planning something pretty nasty if he was serving up palatable nourishment, but with all this lovely, lovely alcohol, Dilandau could put off thinking about that for as long as possible. He smiled his most charming smile at his date. "Let's get out of this crowd of losers and find somewhere to perch." He began to lead the way to a relatively empty wall, staying close to Gaara but being careful not to touch. He didn't want to scare this one off.
The punch tasted strange, but everything with exotic fruits not native to his desert village tasted strange to Gaara. He was an exceedingly paranoid boy, at home he'd never eaten foreign imports, sticking almost exclusively to foods and drinks that he felt he could trust. Here, there were no such luxuries. Everything was double-edged, food, conversations, people, nothing was trustworthy any more.
Yet Gaara still followed the taller man through the crowd, unsure just why. He neither liked nor disliked him, but he was a quasi-familiar face. Temari seemed to think it was safe enough... Perhaps it was. Gaara didn't know and he was far too exhausted to analyze it all.
"Perch?" he asked as they side-stepped a crowd of laughing strangers.
"Well, we would if there was anything to perch on." Dilandau answered, regarding the stubbornly flat wall with some distaste. Shrugging, he leaned against it, near enough to a table to swipe other people's drinks if he desired a refill.
"Jichia, I think the natives even cleaned the floor." Dilandau observed, sliding one foot across the suprisingly unsticky linoleum tiling. "You'd probably even be safe sitting down if you got tired."
He looked out at the ballroom, filed with badly-dressed freaks trying desperately to find someone to cling on to. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Temari tangoing across the other end of the room.
"Oh my, I didn't know you could dance like that in public and not be arrested." He said, snorting at the way they stared at each other challengingly. Despite the tough act, she was just like other women, enjoying domination by a man.
scornfulsands ), Dilandau Albatou (
zaibachs_best ), Temari (
wind_wielder ), Lee (
greenstockings ), Kankuro (
claycrow )
WHEN: During the Ball
SUMMARY: Gaara discovers drink, Dilandau tries to discover more about his date. Lee defends his One True Love, and the older sand silblings try to keep the peace.
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: Flirting, fighting, possible bad language
STATUS: In-Progress
Dilandau wasn't too surprised when Temari was whisked off onto the dance floor, given the brevity of her dress. It pleased him, that so many men admired the woman he'd claimed as his date, for now they'd be forced to acknowledge his obvious superiority.
His other date seemed to be content standing by his elbow, though it was hard to tell with Gaara what he was thinking. The sheen of the sand shield covering him, along with the blank expression, made him appear more like a porcelain doll than a flesh-and-blood human being. Dilandau glanced round the refectory, quickly picking out Kankuro and noting his distraction. This appeared to be an opportune moment to try to move to a more personal level with the red-headed enigma. Glancing sideways through mascaraed lashes, he murmered to Gaara.
"Let's go and find something to drink. We'll start looking pathetic soon if we stand round on the side of the dance floor and I doubt you'll be willing to deal with all the touching involved in a dance." There, an offer to a shared activity, a bit of empathy and a subtle threat of social humiliation. That ought to get the Kazekage moving as he wanted.
Gaara wasn't ordinarily easily manipulated. He had a natural suspicion of everyone around him, honed through years of attacks and hostility. However, this place had a tendency to wear on a person and the Kazekage, insomnia and all, was no exception to it. He frowned, green eyes slanting up and to the side towards his mutual shared 'date,' the only outward sign that he'd heard him.
"The food might be drugged like last time," he spoke finally, less a protest than quietly spoken fact. Still, despite his trepidations, he followed the slightly taller man towards the punch bowl. There were others milling about, hopefully awkward in efforts to make small talk and smaller connections. Gaara didn't bother with either.
Dilandau, carefully ladling punch into two glasses, chuckled darkly at the observation.
"I'm sure it is, but the Host's enough of a sadist that we'll suffer more if we don't have a few bites." He turned and presented Gaara a flimsy plastic cup, taking a sip of his own. He grinned in sudden suprise and took a few more gulps, getting himself another helping.
"Finally, something decent tasting!" The Host must be planning something pretty nasty if he was serving up palatable nourishment, but with all this lovely, lovely alcohol, Dilandau could put off thinking about that for as long as possible. He smiled his most charming smile at his date. "Let's get out of this crowd of losers and find somewhere to perch." He began to lead the way to a relatively empty wall, staying close to Gaara but being careful not to touch. He didn't want to scare this one off.
The punch tasted strange, but everything with exotic fruits not native to his desert village tasted strange to Gaara. He was an exceedingly paranoid boy, at home he'd never eaten foreign imports, sticking almost exclusively to foods and drinks that he felt he could trust. Here, there were no such luxuries. Everything was double-edged, food, conversations, people, nothing was trustworthy any more.
Yet Gaara still followed the taller man through the crowd, unsure just why. He neither liked nor disliked him, but he was a quasi-familiar face. Temari seemed to think it was safe enough... Perhaps it was. Gaara didn't know and he was far too exhausted to analyze it all.
"Perch?" he asked as they side-stepped a crowd of laughing strangers.
"Well, we would if there was anything to perch on." Dilandau answered, regarding the stubbornly flat wall with some distaste. Shrugging, he leaned against it, near enough to a table to swipe other people's drinks if he desired a refill.
"Jichia, I think the natives even cleaned the floor." Dilandau observed, sliding one foot across the suprisingly unsticky linoleum tiling. "You'd probably even be safe sitting down if you got tired."
He looked out at the ballroom, filed with badly-dressed freaks trying desperately to find someone to cling on to. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Temari tangoing across the other end of the room.
"Oh my, I didn't know you could dance like that in public and not be arrested." He said, snorting at the way they stared at each other challengingly. Despite the tough act, she was just like other women, enjoying domination by a man.