[He hates this. There aren't a lot of things in the world that Jast really very honestly hates but he hates wearing this suit. He looks like he's a few hairs from just breaking down and crying over it, but he's trying to behave himself. He can't help fussing with his buttons though. Trying to get a tie on had been a wasted effort, he would never wear that noose, even if it was silk.
Used to loose, dirty, raggedy clothes, Jast feels stifled, itching and confined. Has to undo the cuffs, has to or he's just going to crazy. He goes ahead and pushes the sleeves up too.
[Niarkhos finds him there like that, a restless, fumbling little thing in one of the great many halls. He navigates through like he's lived here all his life, admiring the gilded ceilings and beautiful portraits, sprawling rugs and polished wood.
Dressed in a similar suit, fitted to his body with an air of natural elegance, worn as easily as feathers, the bird quickly finds his way to Jast's side. Shows a thin, mischievous smile as he tugs on one of those rolls sleeves.]
[Jast looks at him nervously, eyes wavering. He'd been very close to getting up and leaving, but he holds still a moment longer, for his friend. He's not feel terribly talkative, however, and just looks back down with a flush, smoothing out the wrinkles that he's created by being so fussy.
He chews his lip a moment before he finally murmurs,]
[A curious brow arches at the display. He finds Jast's ruffled behavior a little endearing, but he sympathizes, knows the boy must not be used to what he's wearing. In fact, Niarkhos admits it bewildering to see him here--out of place among the lavish setting. A setting Niarkhos himself finds a comfort by comparison. He's not sure he's ever seen Jast indoors, not somewhere like this.]
You're not too uncomfortable, are you?
[There's a hint of concern, though the prince takes Jast's hand and tugs him from his miserable corner.]
[ He isn't quite used to the feel of ceremonial dress, not yet. The stiffness grates against his skin, almost weighing him down even though he knows that the fabric is both lighter and more accommodating than his usual work wear. The long skirt, too, is a rather tiresome and needless affliction -- a conversation piece he has no desire to try and explain to the mundanes watching him.
[A suave-seeming man who stands out from the crowd approaches, hands folded neatly at the small of his fine suit. He offers a smile, then an extended hand. The stranger's foreign dress doesn't faze Master Mallory; he is, after all, an international power.]
[ Nicodemus gives a faint smile and a nod before accepting the hand, shaking it as firmly as was required to make a good impression. The man -- his name had been Mallory, if he remembered correctly -- looked every bit the prim and proper man he sounded like, as if he were a noble amongst people only pretending to be. ]
If only the rest of the parties I've been to this month were so accommodating.
[A broad, flattered smile as the situation calls for, Victor's grip is firm in the shake. He draws his hand back to his side, inclining his head in acknowledgment. It's a very formal greeting, if tense with a peculiar edge, but Mallory was born for politics and he eases into conversation as fluidly as water.]
I appreciate the compliment, though I hope those parties haven't yet tired you out. I do try my best effort, you see, as I rarely play host.
[She loves to dance. In a club, on the streets, in the ballroom. She doesn't care in the least, she just love it. Better with a partner, of course, but she can keep herself entertained on her own while she waits for one. She's really just too special to be ignored.]
[He has absolutely no idea why he's here. Place is way too fancy for him, and the suit he's in might as well be chafing for how it feels. But there's beer, and he's taking full advantage of that, drinking leant against one wall of the ballroom and glaring at anyone that walks close to his personal bubble.
It's impossible not to spot Pussy, as bloody loud looking as she is, but he's not going to say hello or anything. She'll probably try and make him dance again. He hates that.]
[Oh, Maggie. You can't escape her. Her shoes are, of course, excellent as she clicks her way over to him. She leans down to press a kiss to his grumpy little temple.]
[ Seth can't remember the last time he wore a suit for something, but here he was doing so, anyway: black pants, white shirt, black tie, and and even a single-breasted jacket. It's hideous; the only thing he finds solace in is in the fact that the Firebrand could be summoned through the gold cufflinks he wore in case someone wanted to bother him.
Not that anyone would want to, that is. Outside of being relatively good at being a wall-flower, Seth scowls at whatever person he finds looking at him, narrowing his eyes rather disdainfully be they male or female.
[She likes it when they don't smile. Jules is too happy with every to the point that he's bland, he doesn't fight with her about anything. Always happy to let her be the queen. Satisfying as that might be, she finds herself looking elsewhere.
This one isn't smiling, is sitting by himself no less. That won't do. Slides quietly into a chair across from him. Quietly takes her gloves off and tucks them away into her clutch before looking up with a harmless smile. Not a wedding ring in sight on her pale hands, but her dress is expensive.]
[ He does his best to read her without being obvious about it, barely giving her a once over as she takes her seat and neatly adjusts herself. As she's fold her gloves, the first word to come to Seth's mind is: "Noble," which is quickly followed by "Bored," and "Princess."
Why else would she give him the time of day, after all? ]
it even smells regal, if regal...had...a scent. to Chemin, everything was suddenly glass (or lava) and the slightest touch or movement would smudge or break it all (or singe him; either way, he'd be in trouble).
being nobility made no difference: he was in an odd and uncomfortable place, quietly and slowly sauntering through the halls and staring up at the high arched windows with a deep frown. would he get in trouble for opening one up and fleeing?
[ In Chemin's quest to find an exit, he's bound to find someone else doing the same as the night winds on. Seth, after all, has nothing to lose from escaping this hellhole early. He had even less to lose when it came to respecting proper decor. ]
Thrice damned window-
[ He's currently trying to open a window with a fork. Don't be too mean. ]
[not mean at all, just...curious. after all, if this guy was going to be the one to take the risk of offending the housemaster by cracking a window, that mean it wouldn't be Chemin's fault, right?
he peeks around the corner, staring intently, flinching at the tink-tink of the fork against the frame and gnawing on his lip anxiously.]
[ These windows are rather...different from what he had been expecting. Most, if not all, had a singular lock int he middle or bottom, while these had locks on the sides, making it rather difficult to force the errant fork he'd stolen into the mechanism in any way, shape, or form.
Crud. He still goes at it, though. No rest for the wicked. (Or the bored.) ]
Comments 188
Used to loose, dirty, raggedy clothes, Jast feels stifled, itching and confined. Has to undo the cuffs, has to or he's just going to crazy. He goes ahead and pushes the sleeves up too.
He hates this miserable thing. He really does.]
Reply
Dressed in a similar suit, fitted to his body with an air of natural elegance, worn as easily as feathers, the bird quickly finds his way to Jast's side. Shows a thin, mischievous smile as he tugs on one of those rolls sleeves.]
Well, I certainly find it handsome.
Reply
He chews his lip a moment before he finally murmurs,]
Hello.
Reply
You're not too uncomfortable, are you?
[There's a hint of concern, though the prince takes Jast's hand and tugs him from his miserable corner.]
Reply
Nicodemus is here for business, after all. ]
Reply
Welcome, sir.
Reply
[ Nicodemus gives a faint smile and a nod before accepting the hand, shaking it as firmly as was required to make a good impression. The man -- his name had been Mallory, if he remembered correctly -- looked every bit the prim and proper man he sounded like, as if he were a noble amongst people only pretending to be. ]
If only the rest of the parties I've been to this month were so accommodating.
Reply
I appreciate the compliment, though I hope those parties haven't yet tired you out. I do try my best effort, you see, as I rarely play host.
Reply
Reply
It's impossible not to spot Pussy, as bloody loud looking as she is, but he's not going to say hello or anything. She'll probably try and make him dance again. He hates that.]
Reply
Fancy that, Maggie's here.
Reply
Alright, enough of that.
He looks away and takes a long drink from his beer. Which came in a glass. Good way to tell just how bloody fancy a place is right there.]
Reply
Not that anyone would want to, that is. Outside of being relatively good at being a wall-flower, Seth scowls at whatever person he finds looking at him, narrowing his eyes rather disdainfully be they male or female.
This night couldn't end fast enough. ]
Reply
This one isn't smiling, is sitting by himself no less. That won't do. Slides quietly into a chair across from him. Quietly takes her gloves off and tucks them away into her clutch before looking up with a harmless smile. Not a wedding ring in sight on her pale hands, but her dress is expensive.]
That's a rather severe expression.
Reply
Why else would she give him the time of day, after all? ]
And yet, here you are.
Reply
Curiosity kills metaphorical cats.
Reply
it even smells regal, if regal...had...a scent. to Chemin, everything was suddenly glass (or lava) and the slightest touch or movement would smudge or break it all (or singe him; either way, he'd be in trouble).
being nobility made no difference: he was in an odd and uncomfortable place, quietly and slowly sauntering through the halls and staring up at the high arched windows with a deep frown. would he get in trouble for opening one up and fleeing?
maybe he should just keep looking for an exit...]
Reply
Thrice damned window-
[ He's currently trying to open a window with a fork. Don't be too mean. ]
Reply
he peeks around the corner, staring intently, flinching at the tink-tink of the fork against the frame and gnawing on his lip anxiously.]
Reply
Crud. He still goes at it, though. No rest for the wicked. (Or the bored.) ]
Reply
Leave a comment