It was just like being back home. In Troy. The Feast of Apollo. The sacrifices, the dancing, the celebration. So why did Cassandra feel more lost than ever? Because she was truly insane, that's why. It was the only explanation. She had finally lost her mind.
She walked along the perimeter of the festivities, her arms folded, a sullen scowl marring her otherwise beautiful face. The silk sash was still securely tied across her chest and her fingers grazed it absently. Shaman. They had called her a Shaman. Destined to see. Destined to hear the voices of the gods. It was a sick, cruel joke. It was her life.
Cassandra didn't know what to make of these demons. Then again, she hadn't quite figured out how she felt about the elves. So she continued to walk in a slow circle around the celebration, reserving judgment for the time being. But River Royal's words were still inside of her head and she wanted answers. And strangely enough, she didn't want to be alone.
He kept making odd references she didn't understand, but he was cute enough that she let it slide.
He had an endearing exuberance to him, a mischievous innocence that made her feel as though the war hadn't really touched him yet. Impossible and strange, but she liked it.
She bet herself a week's pay that he would kiss her before drinking himself unconscious.
This woman was totally into him. And in like, ten minutes, Barney was going to be totally into her. Like, into her. What up.
"So hey," he said seductively. "How about you and me go someplace and..." He dropped his voice to a whisper right in her ear, delivering his no-fail killer proposition. And he was good for it, too. When you've pleased as many ladies as he has, it's kind of second nature.
He pressed his lips briefly to the spot just behind her ear. "So, what do you say?"
Cordelia took her time before she arrived at the party. She was eager to go and enjoy the starlight--being kept in that underground prison for a week was enough to drive a person mad--but she wanted to drop off Maurice and bathe first. When she arrived, her hair was still damp but she had changed into a clean red dress. She'd worn the dress before her time in jail and had never seen anything special about it but now it was clean and it was new and that somehow made it the most wonderful dress she had ever worn
( ... )
Hood wasn't sure what to do with himself, exactly. There was so much going on, and really, he hadn't been much for things like this since grad school. But everyone else seemed to be here, and he had the feeling that Cordy wouldn't miss a party.
And there she was, facing away from him but still unmistakable, dark curls spilling down her back, striking against the red of her dress. It was good to see her without iron bars in the way.
He started to call out to her, then thought better of it; instead coming up behind her quietly, and when she was close enough to touch, he cleared his throat softly.
A little dramatic, perhaps, but he was still alive. He felt entitled.
Cordelia had been admiring the sky, trying to figure out if there were any constellations she could place, when she could have sworn she saw a red bird flying overhead. But by the time she had noticed, it was too late to follow it. The sky was too dark and there were too many people around.
Strange, with all these people and all the instruments that she should hear someone so close behind her. The noise startled her and she spun around, nearly spilling her drink. As she steadied herself, she glanced up and a smile lit up her features.
It was Hood.
She wasn't sure if it was the relief of being out of prison or that they had made it out alive or if maybe she had just swallowed her drink too fast, but she felt emboldened. She turned to set her drink back down on the table and without a single word of greeting, she held her hands out to him.
"Dance with me," she said, and it sounded more like a demand than a request.
Nazarene had a girl, one of the cooks, hanging on her every word. Fantastic, too; she looked like she was ten or eleven, well over the age of majority. Just showing a hint of cleavage over her dress - just flirting a little, clumsily but genuinely, through the set of her body.
Nazarene leaned a little closer, letting a little bit of a smile quirk her mouth. Yeah - she wouldn't be alone in her tent tonight.
Cristal had been down in the dungeons during the battle, but he hadn't been able to give much aid to the others or do much harm to the enemy. There was evidence that he'd been in the fight: a dark bruise had bloomed on his left cheek. But it hadn't been the result of fighting. Out of panic, he'd tripped when one of the Demon Army had advanced on him, and struck his face on the stone floor. He'd surrendered almost immediately after that.
So he was a coward. He could cope with that- at least for tonight, when he could lose himself in the drinking and the dancing and the general joy of the crowd. He'd been above ground for some time now, and had gotten himself fairly well-lost.
He was in the midst of the dance floor now. The music was unfamiliar, but once he'd got into the rhythm it was easy to move to, and even slip in a few familiar steps. However, Cris wasn't used to dancing alone. He moved a bit through the crowd until he spotted a girl who wasn't too much taller than himself, dancing alone. Demon? Human? He didn't particularly
( ... )
Damn, she needed this, she thought as stomped and swayed, letting the stress and aches and tensions of the battle flow out of her. She found a spot where she could close her eyes and just move, fill herself with the simple joy of still being alive.
She was lost in the music when someone gave her a surprise twirl. She went with it, her hair flying around her face as she she turned fast, letting the movement carry her into his arms and then out again.
She snapped off a few quick steps that kept her in place, allowing her to look at him.
He was cute, a little short and with very brightly colored hair. Human, maybe.
"My pleasure," she replied, less in a flirtatious way than sincerely - she was honestly having fun.
Her shoulder twinged a little where the witch hadn't quite healed her from an elven arrow wound, but she ignored it, taking his hand and sliding her other arm around his shoulders.
"Show me that step you were doing - I've never seen it before."
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She walked along the perimeter of the festivities, her arms folded, a sullen scowl marring her otherwise beautiful face. The silk sash was still securely tied across her chest and her fingers grazed it absently. Shaman. They had called her a Shaman. Destined to see. Destined to hear the voices of the gods. It was a sick, cruel joke. It was her life.
Cassandra didn't know what to make of these demons. Then again, she hadn't quite figured out how she felt about the elves. So she continued to walk in a slow circle around the celebration, reserving judgment for the time being. But River Royal's words were still inside of her head and she wanted answers. And strangely enough, she didn't want to be alone.
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He was half-drunk on the weird beer that was available, probably drinking too fast, but he had so much lost time to make up for.
And the women! Oh man, they were so hot, mostly. Well, kind of. Not as hot as elves, obviously, but they weren't barkers or anything.
And, and? They were totally flirting back. He basically had his pick! This was incredible!
The Demon Kingdom was AWESOME.
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He had an endearing exuberance to him, a mischievous innocence that made her feel as though the war hadn't really touched him yet. Impossible and strange, but she liked it.
She bet herself a week's pay that he would kiss her before drinking himself unconscious.
Reply
"So hey," he said seductively. "How about you and me go someplace and..." He dropped his voice to a whisper right in her ear, delivering his no-fail killer proposition. And he was good for it, too. When you've pleased as many ladies as he has, it's kind of second nature.
He pressed his lips briefly to the spot just behind her ear. "So, what do you say?"
Yeah, she was totally into it.
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That.
Did that count as a kiss? That soft little touch-brush thing? That totally didn't count.
But the invitation was obvious enough, and she was still keyed up from the battle, running high on victory and alcohol.
She decided to forfeit her bet, gripping the back of his neck to pull him into a wet, dirty kiss.
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Hood wasn't sure what to do with himself, exactly. There was so much going on, and really, he hadn't been much for things like this since grad school. But everyone else seemed to be here, and he had the feeling that Cordy wouldn't miss a party.
And there she was, facing away from him but still unmistakable, dark curls spilling down her back, striking against the red of her dress. It was good to see her without iron bars in the way.
He started to call out to her, then thought better of it; instead coming up behind her quietly, and when she was close enough to touch, he cleared his throat softly.
A little dramatic, perhaps, but he was still alive. He felt entitled.
Reply
Strange, with all these people and all the instruments that she should hear someone so close behind her. The noise startled her and she spun around, nearly spilling her drink. As she steadied herself, she glanced up and a smile lit up her features.
It was Hood.
She wasn't sure if it was the relief of being out of prison or that they had made it out alive or if maybe she had just swallowed her drink too fast, but she felt emboldened. She turned to set her drink back down on the table and without a single word of greeting, she held her hands out to him.
"Dance with me," she said, and it sounded more like a demand than a request.
Reply
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Nazarene leaned a little closer, letting a little bit of a smile quirk her mouth. Yeah - she wouldn't be alone in her tent tonight.
Reply
So he was a coward. He could cope with that- at least for tonight, when he could lose himself in the drinking and the dancing and the general joy of the crowd. He'd been above ground for some time now, and had gotten himself fairly well-lost.
He was in the midst of the dance floor now. The music was unfamiliar, but once he'd got into the rhythm it was easy to move to, and even slip in a few familiar steps. However, Cris wasn't used to dancing alone. He moved a bit through the crowd until he spotted a girl who wasn't too much taller than himself, dancing alone. Demon? Human? He didn't particularly ( ... )
Reply
She was lost in the music when someone gave her a surprise twirl. She went with it, her hair flying around her face as she she turned fast, letting the movement carry her into his arms and then out again.
She snapped off a few quick steps that kept her in place, allowing her to look at him.
He was cute, a little short and with very brightly colored hair. Human, maybe.
"Hello, handsome," she said, grinning.
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"Care to dance?" he asked.
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Her shoulder twinged a little where the witch hadn't quite healed her from an elven arrow wound, but she ignored it, taking his hand and sliding her other arm around his shoulders.
"Show me that step you were doing - I've never seen it before."
Reply
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