RP:Samhain Gala: Halloween Edition 2023
Summary: Cenril hosts a Samhain festival and Gala. Things get flirty. Fake Macon Dances with Fake Valrae. It's a wild time.
Prizes:
- Ghostly Shadow Spinning Spider
- Won by the "Spider Queen" (aka Joan) and “King Macon” (aka Ralinde)
Palatial Enchanted Garden
Once beyond the elaborate gates of Cenril’s Estate, the winding white brick path opens to a circular fountain bubbling with clear blue water. The expansive face of the restored manor rises above the lush garden with scrubbed and stately white and gray veined marble. Wide stone benches engraved with the family names of guardsmen and women lost surrounded by intricately detailed Seaborn creatures dot around the path. Native olive trees, perfectly pruned and manicured, are spaced between each wide tracery window. Ever blooming flowers with vibrant multicolored faces spiral, thick as carpet, around the large wax myrtle and sweetbay magnolia trees. Stone steps lead up to the sturdy rune enchanted double doors of the Manor.
Valrae || Along Beloy Street, the Samhain festival was in full swing, stretching out before the grandeur of the Mayor's estate where the crowds seemed to thicken. The Mayor had opened up Cenril’s Estate for the festivities, though war hung heavily over the seaside republic, and excitement buzzed in the chilled night air. The cobblestone streets were illuminated by the soft glow of flickering lanterns and bonfires, casting an eerie, golden light that danced in the autumn breeze. The air was filled with the enticing aroma of street food vendors' delicacies, drawing festival-goers toward their stalls like moths to a flame. Costumed parade participants, from the whimsical to the macabre, weaved through the winding street, showcasing their creativity and embracing the spirit of Samhain. Throughout the festival, bonfires blazed in iron braziers, their flames sending up sparks and illuminating the night. The heat of the fires provided a welcome contrast to the crisp autumn air, and the crackling of the burning wood mingling smokily with the salt laden breeze from the sea. Street vendors lined the thoroughfare, their stalls adorned with colorful banners and twinkling witch lights. The tantalizing scent of sizzling meats, sweet pastries, and spiced mulled cider wafted through the air. The vendors' stalls were adorned with decorative gourds, glowing jack-o-lanterns, and cornstalks. Jugglers, fire dancers, and fortune tellers plied their trades, beckoning curious onlookers to experience a taste of the mystical. Witches ruled the night, flying overhead in dazzling and breathtaking displays of aerial prowess as they cast bright illusionary spells from wands and scepters.
Valrae || A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the native olive trees that lined the winding white brick path leading to Cenril's Estate. They were fading into the vibrant colors of fall but wrapped in thousands of gossamer strands of spider silk, casting the sprawling garden in shades of bone white and pale silver underneath the light of the two moons. The shadows seemed to ripple and distort, forming the shadowy shapes of enormous spiders crawling through the trees. Purely decorative and spun from magic, of course.. As guests arrived at the Samhain Gala, they would be greeted by the ethereal sight of the circular fountain at the center of the garden. It's clear blue water seemed to glow with an otherworldly light illusion magic at play transforming the water into a swirling mass of ghostly apparitions. Laughter, whispering voices, and faint cries echoed from the spectral figures, creating an eerie but enchanting ambiance. The intricate carvings of Seaborn creatures on the benches seemed to come to life, their eyes following the guests as they moved along the path. Inside the Manor, the grand hall was adorned with decorations that continued the ghostly and spider riddled theme. Transparent veils swirled from the ceiling, creating the illusion of ghostly figures locked in an eternal waltz above the revelers. Candlelight flickered in golden candelabras, casting eerie, dancing shadows that seemed to take on the form of spectral hands reaching out to the living or the scurrying of many legs and the glow of eight milky white eyes. At the heart of the gala, a magnificent feast was laid out on long tables, and the food itself seemed to shimmer and change before the guests' eyes, transforming from one delectable dish to another. The bar was swarmed with activity and boasting cocktails such as Zombie Zest, Ectoplasm Elixir, or Milk of Spiders. There were towers of champagne and waitstaff in white carried trays laden with hors d'oeuvres and smoking, bubbling drinks in tall delicate glasses.
Cresente weaves through the crowds with practiced ease, never moving too busily to give the impression of a man with a destination in mind nor slowly enough to attract attention as someone slowing down the natural traffic. A transfiguration potion has done well to transform his feathery wings into an illusion of bat wings. With white powder paling his complexion and with his hair smoothed back for the first time in several moons, Cresente has done well dressing as the mythical flying vampires spoken of in other lands. Though he seems to not have a destination in mind, he keeps his eyes peeled for any traces of certain people. He is, of course, not here just for pleasure.
Valrae || The Mayor arrived by descending the stairs from her private rooms with little theatrics but surrounded by Cenril Guardsmen dressed in black and armed to the teeth. They were at war, after all, and this did not change despite the holiday season. She was dressed as a dove, her gown form fitting and the lace so thin and delicate around her arms and legs that it was sheer. The bodice was a work of craftsmanship, adorned with intricate lacework resembling delicate plumage. Cascading down from her hips, the dress extended into a flowing silhouette that ended in a short train of downy white. The most impressive feature of the gown was its wings, which seemed to be an extension of Valrae. Delicate, pristine white feathers were meticulously arranged, and with the help of magic, gave the illusion of real wings. The feathers themselves were a marvel, capturing the softness associated with doves. As the witch moved through the room these wings appeared to flutter as if responding to an unseen breeze. Her hair was arranged with pearl accented pins in a half up, half down and tumbling mass of waterfalling golden curls arranged in a calculated disarray that implied she’d just tumbled out of some very soft bed. Her large and dark eyes were lined sharply, shimmering white and gold dusted her eyelids, and her cheeks and lips were a rosy pink. She attempts to merge into the crowd as seamlessly as possible with her armed escorts and heads towards the bar for a drink.
Khitti was here. She wasn’t pregnant anymore (thank the gods). She also wasn’t wearing a costume. Or maybe she was? She probably wouldn’t tell you anyway. What she -was- wearing was her expertly stitched black satin sleeveless two-piece knee-length dress, with the little plates of mithril sandwiched between the fabric. The one that Inks had made some time ago, for events such as these, where Khitti wanted to blend in, but also be ready. She didn’t really feel like a normal costume this year anyway, being “freshly” divorced and all. Her nails were manicured and painted up to look like nice black claws, while her lips and eyes were also painted up in the darkest of makeup. She of course also had on her soft leather leggings and her well-worn boots, both black. But no. No obvious costume because she did not intend on joining the costume contest this year. Her long wavy wine red hair was pulled up into a ponytail with her signature long side-bangs framing her face. She hoped she fit in as much as she tried to. Ah and there goes a lovely bubbling cocktail… the Ectoplasm Elixir? Yes please, she’ll take 2. Despite dual-wielding the drinks, she sipped them slowly, keeping her eyes peeled for… anything really. She was here letting her paranoia get the best of her. The twilight witch had told her dearest friend that this was a bad idea. We’re literally in the middle of a war, Val. Why would you do this, Val. Are you crazy, Val? But Val was like ‘Nah, bestie, we’ll be okay!’. Sigh. Okay, fine. It’s not like this wasn’t Khitti’s favorite holiday after all, so she sorta supported the party a little. But she’s gonna complain to herself the whole time. Anyway. Khitti was busy watching everyone from behind Khitt’s currently purple-tinted pince nez glasses, while drinking her Ectoplasm Elixir. Yes.
Joan appears to this festive event is a new snazzy outfit, this time she wore a purple sparkly spider silk thread outfit. The thread work was rather outstanding, all done with different purple hue threads, showing very different spider web parterns in fine silver thread work, now and then there would be fine black detailed threaded spiders in one web or another and it did look like the threadworked spiders were moving from web to web all up and down Joan's ladies pants suit outfit. Other then that all Joan had on was her normal leather black Maryjane shoes, those were never out of fashion. Since her hair was normally already styled this time she just added a small silver spider hair pin with matching earrings, nothing to far out of hand. Upon entering the event Joan would make the rounds of the snacks and drinks, taking one of everything on a small plate, always for the treats right away, she was a sweet treat junkie after all.
Cresente nearly walks into a group of partygoers when his eyes fall upon the familiar garnet locks. It's not her, old boy. She has been gone for a long time now. No, these locks belong to the feminine counterpart of Khitt, who, according to his intel, is not a fan of his. Rightfully so, he had taken contracts for Larket and was likely going to be arrested if exposed. The mask of faux bloodied fangs does well to conceal any identifying scars, though, and the avian is properly shaven. His eyes then drift to the white-clad woman, and just as quickly, he turns away to get a drink. "One Zombie Zest, extra zest." He has no idea what the zest is. He also doesn't care. He just needs to not get close to Khitti.
Valrae spots Khitti by the bar and sends her a sunny smile. “How is it going so far?” She asks, ordering a Milk of Spiders. It was actually just vanilla & coconut rumchata. No spiders were harmed or milked in the making of this cocktail. There were no signs of Larket or impending doom yet, so she was feeling just a bit vindicated in not passing on the highest of holidays. She takes a testing sip of her drink and also smiles toward Cresente, his mask catching her eye.
Lita is present incognito. A specifically poorly done costume design in that it includes a long, dark red cloak wrapped about her shoulders with indiscriminate black clothing beneathand black boots on her feet. The real stars of the display are the long flowing blonde locks which have been done up into a high ponytail and adorned with all manner of silver and gold inlays and gems. It is overly elaborate, nearly gaudy in its display. And while it is obvious that it is a wig, it is still not bad craftsmanship. The full face mask is more of the same: a nearly blank white canvas, adorned with silver and gold eye makeup layered and blended, rosy pink cheeks and plump cherry lips. Even from afar if is likely go be viewed as a caricature of their dear Mayor. The entire purpose is attention without too much scrutiny, after all. What better way to honor the woman than with a bit of flattery? Lita doesn't linger for conversation in any one place, more just breezes through, offering nods and pats on shoulders and mumbled words of thanks if her costume is remarked upon. Barf.
Khitti finished off one drink, then the other, as she watched Valrae make her way around her party in that shimmering white, with those gossamery wings--the literal opposite of Khitti and her perpetual darkness. Even now, tendrils of shadows seemed to curl off of her in various places, her magic spurred on by her anxiety about this whole shindig. Thankfully for Cresente, Khitti couldn’t quite tell the difference between the clairvoyance that screamed at her that there was an intruder here or the worry she had for her friend. Surely they were one and the same. Well, that plus her two drinks was enough to dull her senses after not having alcohol in months. It was enough that she walked right up next to Cresente and got herself a couple Zombie Zests to try and barely acknowledged his presence. But there she was, within his personable bubble nevertheless. Until she wasn’t, as she let the music, and alcohol, guide her off elsewhere.
Joan nibbles away at one of the sugar cookies that had a lovely orange frosting on it, her eyes darting about to see anyone she would know. Spotting Khitti the vampiric healer would give her guild leader a bob of her head, other then that she stay neared the treats table not much for mixing with the small crowd.
Khitti stopped, just before leaving the bar fully, her attention shifting back to Valrae. "Good so far. Great drinks too, heh." Just a few more drinks and she won't worry about anything anymore, Val. It's totally okay! Everything was perfecto.
Khitti offered Joan a brief nod.
Valrae finds her attention pulled away from the bar by the buzz of attention that surrounded a mystery woman in a costume that could only be that of… Herself? The Red Witch? Valrae blinks several times before squinting across the gala and tilting her head in confusion. “Huh.” She hides a perplexed smile behind her drink before turning back to Khitti. “Yeah, the staff really did a lovely job.” She wonders if Khitti spotted her impersonator yet. “Do you see that?” She asks, nodding toward Lita. She didn’t know it was Lita. The witch was fighting back a laugh. “I have a fan!”
Lita tugs gently at one of Cresente's bat wings as she passes. How real they looked! She admires a good costume design. But oops, it appears to actually be attached to something. Maybe a harness thing? Who knows. Either way, if he turns to look, she'll glance over her shoulder and agree how strange it was that someone in the crowd would just tug on his wing randomly as they passed. People are so rude these days! She continues onwards about the room.
Cresente has not communicated his presence here with other mercenaries that he may or may not be affiliated with, who may or may not have forgiven him for his terrible communication skills. When the caricatured woman in the red cloak walks past him, he barely notices her, save for a glance and a furrow of the brow as if trying to place them. His train of thought is broken when a red ponytail enters his line of sight. Oh no. Cresente sharply turns his head to take the cocktail, leaving a modest tip. Don't say anything. Don't say anything. "Hair the color of Ahr'Nuk's glow is a sign of nobility where I come from." He's saying something, of course, how else are we going to move the plot along otherwise? "Cheers." Cresente ends curtly and turns to leave before he says something he really regrets. Catching the eye of the vampiress at the treats table, he nods in greeting.
Khitti peered over her drink at the mystery woman that dressed up like her best friend. She had her judgey-face on. “Are they a fan? Because it reeks of like that year where Khitt went as a beheaded Macon for his costume.” There were more judgey looks from Khitti towards the faux Red Witch before she turned her line of sight back to the real one. But before she could say anything, her face was busy turning as red as the very hair Cresente commented on. “W-what?” Olive-green eyes shifted back and forth between the winged vampire and the real Valrae. Confusion started setting in. Processing. Processing. Processing. DING. “DID THAT GUY JUST HIT ON ME?!” She said this in a whisper, but a loud whisper, to Val. The confusion started to trade itself a little for anger. “Is this what happens when you’re single?! I hate it.” She made a fake gagging sound.
Joan would offer a polite little finger wave towards the large bat winged fellow in return greeting between her now taking one of those offered drinks. Now and then she could be heard humming to the tune of 'Itties bitty spider as the sparkly threaded spiders on her outfit move about.
Cresente moves towards Joan, who seems to have been at the treats table the longest. "Any recommendations?" He asks gruffly, taking a sip. The alcohol gets caught in his throat as Khitti's indignation reaches his ears, though. He wants to spin around and clarify that this was not a flirt, but that would make things worse, that would ruin his cover! The face paint does well to hide any color rising to Cresente's face, and he coughs awkwardly as he chokes down his drink and pretends not to have heard that.
Valrae tilted her head again at her masked stranger self. “Hmm…” She wasn’t sure now that Khitti suggested they might be the opposite of a fan. “Maybe? I’m still strangely flattered.” She laughs then, failing to hide it behind a hand or her drink this time at Khitti’s stage whisper. “I think he did…” She whispers back, though notably more quiet. She eyes the man. “He’s kinda cute though…” She liked the mysterious, dark and tall types. What could she say? The witch shrugs.
Ralinde wanders in dressed entirely in faux pas. A suit of paper mache black Enchanted armor in a pattern like burnt bacon. It's accompanied by a crown with floppy points, an upside down sherriffs badge, and an axe with a particularly floppy handle. The suit of armor is made to have an obvious paunch, and some patchy grease-paint facial hair is made into machiavellian twists. Rallinde waddled comically towards a table, chewing on a massive fake cigar, and trying not to laugh at herself. She mumbles something about witches in a poor Larketian accent with overly suspicious glances all around.
Valrae halts all scrutiny of Cresente and Khitti and all the buzzing tension between them at the arrival of her favorite costume yet. Someone actually wore a horrid King Macon costume. She was howling with laughter and nearly clapped in her appreciation of the fine details, down to the wobbly crown and floppy ax! “Oh, Khitti, look at that! It’s the best one.”
Joan arches one fine purple brow as the bat winged man asked about her personal recommendations on the treats being offered, she chews and swallows before using her thumb and index finger to swipe at the corners of her pale icy lips to make sure she didn't have crumbs there before speaking, "Hmm, they are all good I just tried the chocolate coated pretzle sticks. "They seem good enough, oh and the spooky sugar cookies, the colored frosting is nice."
Khitti whined at Valrae. “Valllllllllllllll, I’m not drunk enough for this. I don’t do compliments. Especially about my only good feature. I do murder and raising the dead and ripping out a certain avian’s heart and sacrificing it to the God of Death by devouring it whole right in front of his corpse.” That’s incredibly specific. But, she -was- right. She wasn’t drunk enough for this. And so, she ordered two more drinks, these ones Milk of Spiders. Both of them doubles. “It should be illegal how good these drinks are,” she said, as she stared at Cresente’s winged back. “Okay fine. He does seem a little cute. But I told you. I am done with men. And people. Just. Everyone in general.” And yet, she just kept staring at Cresente. Until Val drew her attention towards the Macon costume of the night. “You’re right. It is the best one. Khitt’s had gore, which was nice, but this? It’s--” She did the chef’s kiss gesture.
Lita is heading for the treats table to accost- I mean, say hi to Joan, when a magnificently dressed version of a king walks in. She's suddenly hungry for breakfast foods. Probably unrelated. Clearly, she must ask the king for a dance! She forgoes her trek to the treats table and turns instead for where Ralinde is seated. She makes her appearance from betwixt a court jester and some sort of zombie character and huffs a complaint as she brushes something from her shoulder. Good thing her actual facial expressions are hidden behind the painted mask. She extends a gloved hand from within the red cloak towards Ralinde and nods towards the dance floor. Is there a dance floor? There's always a dance floor at these things.
Valrae laughed and rolled her eyes. “Your only good feature?” She shakes her head. “All of your features are good. You’re a babe.” There. Now she had to deal with more. Her smile was a little smug, even as she continued and mentioned ripping out hearts and sacrifice. “See? And your personality is to die for too!” Was that a joke? Who can say… The witch widens her very large and very dark eyes and does her best impression of someone who is innocent. “Mhm… Done with men.” She agrees, hiding again behind her glass as she watches her watch him. “Totally done.” But they’d moved on. The King Macon costume was stealing the show. “Hey, we have a Red Witch running around too. They should have a dance battle. It will probably solve the whole war… Probably.”
Cresente immediately takes both the pretzels and the cookies in pairs, then piles them onto a small napkin. "Much obliged." He says gratefully. Perhaps the food will keep him from making an arse of himself if it's particularly good. The howling calls his attention back to Valrae and Khitti, and with it, he traces her sight to the brilliant woman's portrayal of The Floppy King. As Lita approaches to apparently NOT accost Joan, Cresente inches back towards the two high-profile women. "Apologies if my earlier compliment unsettled you, madam." He leans down so the words only reach her ears. "I am not familiar with Cenrili culture.”
Cresente adds, sheepishly. "You mentioned Khitt... Is he coming, by chance?" Followed by jamming an entire sugar cookie into his mouth. Oh damn. The frosting really did make this cookie work.
Joan did notice the red cloaked blonde wig woman...or man as they came close but they moved off towards the paper mache other person, so Joan just went back towards the treats.
Ralinde huffed and cast a squinty eyed glance at someone laughing. Ralinde's attention turns to the hand offered, though. "I don't know if I can actually dance in this-" she informs Lita. "But I think that will be rather in character," she hides a laugh and chuffs into her worst kingly impression. "Erheghehflem. Yes, a dance." She takes Lita's hand and waddles over to cut a rug. There's not a lot of mobility more out of construction than choice in the awkward paper armor. "Rallinde, by the way. Not sure if we've met - lovely party isnt it?"
Khitti || Welp. There went Khitti’s face again, looking just as red as her hair. Thanks, Val. And then Cresente showed up again! Ugh. She almost said ‘S-shut up, baka…’, which was something she’d learned from Kanna a long time ago, but instead she took the other tsundere route and turned away from him. “It’s fine.” A pause. “I’m not -really- from Cenril, so.” Which may or may not translate to maybe she didn’t totally hate it. But she definitely did right? Because she didn’t say she didn’t hate it, to him directly. Ah, and there’s that internal worry again. But she’s soon distracted away from it thanks to Cresente’s question about Khitt. “He’s not… feeling well lately, so unfortunately not.” She wasn’t about to tell some stranger that Khitt had been completely heartbroken for weeks now. Lita gives an excited clapping gesture when Ralinde (a name she'll soon learn) agrees to try a dance. She's chosen to keep silent while in costume, not at all but probably because her mouth has a tendency to get her into trouble. It's fine, she'll try and take the lead on the dance floor as they cut a rug. Val seems like the type to like to be in charge anyway. After the song ends and Ralinde introduces themselves, Lita-Val offers a mock little curtsy and a poignant flip of blonde ponytail over her shoulder. She then gives a girlish display of laughter, as if Ralinde has said something particularly amusing, and she brandishes a Larketian #1 foam finger from beneath her cloak, waving it proudly for the crowds to see as she leans in to seemingly plant a kiss on the faux Macon's cheek. War over, truce.
Valrae hears a lull in the music and peels her eyes away from the dance that is actually now happening between the Fake Macon and Fake Valrae. It was like watching some alternate reality version of her life and it was somewhere between hilarious and very concerning. She couldn’t dwell on it though. It was time to announce the winners of the costume contest. Valrae takes center on the stage where the band had been playing. “Blessed Samhain!” Her voice calls over enchanted runes. “Thank you all for coming. We’ve had a lot of lovely costumes but there are a few that stood out.” She pauses for the drama of it and to wait as a staff member passes her an envelope and places two glass boxes at her feet. They were fashioned beautifully, the iron housing stained spiritglass that boasted the crawling of many spiders and various versions of both moons in all their phases. Inside, something was glowing a pale white and thumping against the glass. “And the winners are…” She opens the envelope slowly. “King Macon and the Spider Queen.” (Ralinde & Joan) The witch pauses for the applause to die down. “Congratulations. This year's prize is a pair of Ghostly Shadow Spinning Spiders.” She opens the lid of one box and the spindly white and translucent legs of one of the spiders reaches out over the glass case. To her credit, the witch only shudders a little before snapping the lid closed again and standing upright. “These juvenile spectral shadow weavers will bond with their owner and are capable of spinning webs of pure darkness.” She doesn’t mention that they grow… Very large. She felt too sick about it to go on even though she was smiling bravely.
Lita waves her foam finger in cheering for the faux Macon's victory.
Valrae sticks her tongue out at Fakerae and her foam finger.
Khitti clapped somewhat awkwardly with her second drink still in hand, for both Joan and Ralinde.
Cresente looks crestfallen as he realizes he will not get to see the fiery boxer tonight. Once he clears his throat of the treats that are now sickly sweet on his tongue, he answers, "Ah. That's a shame..." Cresente straightens up and turns his head over to where Floppy King and Doll Witch are enjoying what seems to be the world's best (or worst) waltz. When Valrae finishes announcing the costume contest winners, he looks back down at the redhaired woman. Perhaps it's the Zombie Zest, extra zest, getting to his head, but he raises a hand to his rib, palm up. "If I can be so bold, may I ask you to take his place for a dance tonight in hopes that it lifts his spirits?"
Joan blinks as she costume is called as one of the winners, setting her plate on the edge of the treat table and dusting her hands off against each other the vampiric healer would approch the lovely lady mayor to accept her special box, she'd offer a polite and loud 'Thank you everyone' before opening the lid to her prize and coo towards the shadow spinning spider inside. Allowing it to crawl out and onto her hand, it was allowed to tap and wander about her and her outfit.
Ralinde bows far deeper than she thought she could and then grabs her back as if a muscle ached. She gave a hearty laugh, bellowing "Yes, I am pretty great aren't I. Truce, a truce for you, and for you over there, ah- but war! War on the deviled eggs, I declare. No devils allowed in the presence of the king!" She took her spider and went to shake with Valrae quietly. "Really, all my love to the Witches in Cenril, congrats on being Mayor!" She gave another bow to Joan and went to terrorize the banquet tables, waving at Khitti on the way.
Lita shrugs at Real Valrae. Her work here is done for now. She wanders over to the treats table to leave a few gifts behind. They're probably some cleverly decorated cake of concoction, right? Probably safe to try one. Good luck. She'll take her leave soon after.
Valrae congratulated the winners again and gave Ralinde an especially warm smile and thank you for the kind words. “Your costume is excellent!” She tells them, before stepping away from the stage to mingle with the crowd again. While she was enjoying herself, and it would be particularly entertaining to watch whatever was going to happen next between the masked stranger and Khitti, the night was growing late and there was a man dressed in his official Captain of Cenrili guardsman uniform that caught her eye. They would be traveling for Selene Island soon to ring in the holiday with her coven. She said a quick goodbye to those she knew and slipped off toward her private rooms again.
Khitti stared hard at Cresente as he looked… saddened? By the fact that he would not get to see Khitt. Her intuition was trying to tell her something. But it was dampened by the alcohol and now a flare of jealousy. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on was wrong… or familiar?? And Khitt had shut himself away enough in their shared mind that he just wasn’t paying attention. There’s hesitation. Someone actually offered to dance with her. He did it willingly and she didn’t have to try to convince him first. Not like she had always had to before with… “Fine.” She paused, trying to make herself sound more appealing to the stranger. “Yes.” That’s as much as he’d get out of her for the moment and she did her damnedest to avoid his gaze as she put out her hand for Definitely-Not-Cresente to take. And when they got to dancing finally, he’d find that she was actually quite good at it, between the years of dance lessons she’d gotten from her father back in Dhavislaav and from a former friend, here in Lithrydel.
Kang arrives fashionably late with his new diva, the world renowned, deadly beauty, voted most stunning seventeen straight years in a row, Franquio. The reclusive fashionista is wearing a Calvin Kang original, of course.
Cresente dances along with Khitti, allowing her to lead since she is the more experienced of the two. Gods, he hadn't danced like this in decades. Khitti was so similar to Asphodel in appearance, but so different in personality. Khitt was different in both regards, but could not shake the need to see the boxer rise up and fight Cresente head-on again. Cresente had long living like he was dead, only searching for the right place to die, but somehow in these moments, he could feel his chest swell with life. It also filled him with guilt, though, and his brows visibly furrow beneath his mask as his expression falls again. With one last twirl of the tipsy redhead, Cresente steps back and bows. With the crowd thinning as partygoers migrate towards the beach for more festivities, the distinct scent of cigarillos faintly wafts from the avian's clothing. "Perhaps if I had been a better man and had stronger morals, things would have been different." He turns away. "But I lost my morals a long time ago. I suppose my night in Praemia is over now."
Khitti eventually met Cresente’s disguised gaze every once in a while as they danced. With all the spinning they’d done, and all that alcohol she’d drank, it’d definitely gone to her head. They stopped, and his words swirled around her like a cyclone. “Wait…” And then that scent hit her, stirring memories of the recent past. It stirred Khitt from his reclusiveness as well. It stirred the anger that had been simmering there in the weeks since she’d last seen Cresente the Betrayer. But, it could not surpass the sadness that suddenly overwhelmed her, thanks to both she -and- Khitt’s emotions. She resisted a lot of things right then: the urge to rip out his heart, and the one to huge him, as well as the one to lecture him in typical, long-winded Khitti fashion. What she did not resist was the fight or flight response she was getting from her brain. But, luckily for Cresente, and the last remnants of the partygoers, it was not the typical response. “It could not have happened any other way, unfortunately.” Her words were shaky, not at all like her usual snark. “It is -so like us- to catch feelings for someone like -you-.” Yeah. She said it. “Fate has us in its noose yet again.” Before there could possibly be tears, Khitti side-stepped away from the space that they had shared in their dance and shadowstepped away from him, the party, and everyone else. The next time the two would meet, who knows what sort of Khitti might find Cresente then?