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RP:Samhain Shindig

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Summary: The witch sisters, Lanara and Talyara, band together to host an epic event for their favorite holiday, Halloween! They find a haunted house in Xalious and cleanse the evil aura, to leave behind a lavish mansion that's perfect for entertaining. The Backstreet Bards are performing, the food and drinks are festive, the decorations have been perfectly placed, everyone is in costume... Nothing could go wrong, right? After the winners of the 'his' and 'her' best dressed are announced and awarded their animal companions, the drow matron, Gevurah, makes her presence known. A twisted game of 'Hangman' is played, and a victim loses several limbs, before Krice guesses the phrase and the event comes to an abrupt end.


Best Dressed Female Costume: Gevurah, dressed as herself, a drow.

Best Dressed Male Costume: Elioyahazer, dressed as a mummy, wearing an enchanted ring with strange effects.


(Setting Part 1) Hours before the Samhain event was to take place, Lanara and Talyara had arrived to clean house, prepared with all sorts of witchy anecdotes as well as their old friend, Freakshow whom the sisters had hired to build the stage for the evening. After starting on opposite ends of the house, Lana and Taly had begun to work their magic, conjuring the elements of air and water to help them wash and cleanse the physical components of the building. It had been old and abandoned for so long that they felt it imperative to wash the cobwebs, dirt, grime, and mystery stains from the vicinity before hosting a slew of guests. The echoes of a hammer could be heard as the disfigured man set to work on building the stage on the north side of the room. Finally, the two women stood in the center of the ball room, smears of dirt streaked across their cheeks and clothing, admiring their handy work. Now that the room was cleaned in the physical sense, it was time to take care of the bad aura. The younger witch procured a bundle of fresh sage, an abalone shell, and a large hawk feather, handing each item to her sister. “Care to do the honors?” Lana beamed at Taly and began to walk widdershins as she wafted out the cleansing smoke of the sage bundle which smoldered in the shell. “God of all, Goddess of light, shield and protect us day and night. Positive feeling alone come near, all others wither and disappear.” Taly trailed after her sister, sprinkling salt water in her wake. Thrice times the sisters moved about the room until they felt confident that they negative energy had dissipated. “This house is clean,” Lana muttered before the sisters shuffled off to prepare the refreshments and various stations they had planned for the Samhain celebration.


(Setting Part 2) The spacious ballroom of the lavish mansion is decorated as would be fitting for an event of this caliber. Dozens of tables of carefully prepared food are lined up against the wall for buffet style dining, and no expense was spared in planning the menu. Waiters greet guests with a smile, offering them a decadent candy corn cupcake, or a moonlight margarita. An open bar is nestled between the dessert table and the stage, and circular tables with painted pumpkin centerpieces are spread out to the rear of the room. Black bat cut-outs and orange streamers hang from the ceiling, the freshly polished dance floor welcomes guests to show off their best moves, and a thin coating of fog emits from the stage to give the room a spooky effect. A cast iron cauldron is erected at the front of the room, along with some parchment and a gold plaque, reading “Write your wish, toss into the fire. Hopefully what’s granted, will be your hearts desire.” If one were to step into the small garden that rests beyond this room, they could explore the corn maze and try to find their way out. On the left side of the garden is a long table with several pumpkins and sharp blades, should one wish to carve a scary or happy face into a gourd. To the right of the garden stands a clown behind two large buckets filled with water, and if one wishes to bob for apples against their date or friend, he’d be happy to judge and offer a prize to whoever snags one first. The band is setting up on the stage, each handsome member is dressed in costume, though it’s the mummy that steps forth and draws the attention of the crowd. “Hello, Everyboddddddddy! Would you please welcome two beautiful ladies, your hosts, Lanara and Talyara!” Applause fills the room, and both doors, at opposite ends of the room swing open, as the two brunettes make their way to the stage.


Lanara :: A hush falls over the ballroom as the first witch enters from a door to the right, sauntering towards the stage with seductive grace. Lanara is aptly dressed as Talyara’s counterpart, in a crimson gown that leaves little to one’s imagination. The dress has thick shoulder straps that curve into a sloping neckline which delicately dips into her cleavage, a side slit tantalizingly reveals a shapely thigh, and the expensive fabric hugs each curve, especially showcasing that legendary derriere. Silver heels click against the marble floor as she tilts her head to the side and surveys the scene, pleased that all of the decorations have been properly placed, and that her handsome date is in the audience. A pair of crimson glittering devil horns have been placed atop her head, carefully situated amongst the mass of chestnut curls that cascade to the middle of her back. A dab of blush has been applied to Lana’s high cheekbones, enough eyeshadow and mascara to enhance her captivating eyes, and her lush lips are a vivid ruby red. If one could tear their gaze from the sexy she-devil, they’d notice that in her left hand she wields a massive pewter weapon. Several guests give each other quizzical glances, deep down knowing what the object is supposed to be, though it clearly looks like a distorted fork. Was that a… Pitchspork!? Giving the crowd a silken smile, she comes to stand beside her sister, gently elbowing her in the ribs. To the audience, it looks as if all of this was perfectly planned beforehand, and that the two women are picturesque princesses, fully embracing their duties and hosting this event. Little do they know, but they each had designed the others costume, and hadn’t seen them since moments prior to entering the ballroom! Lana gives Taly some serious side eye, her grasp tightening on the staff of the pitchspork, “Why do I have a freaking spork?! And! This dress is so tight, I fear if I eat anything gassy and break wind, that I will blow a hole out the back! This is why we can’t have nice things, Sister!” The mummy dressed bard motions for them to address the crowd, and Lana says a little spheal, before it’s Taly’s turn to speak. Taking a step forward, she speaks clearly, her chocolate hues scanning over those gathered, “Blessed Samhain to you all! Before the Backstreet Bards kick off the evening… I just want to give a brief explanation on the meaning behind this holiday… Samhain is the day when the veil between the realm of the living and the dead is the thinnest… It’s a time to remember those that we have loved and lost, and to honor their memory. It’s the beginning of a spiritual new year… So if you love someone, tell them tonight, because you never know when you may have the next chance… And if someone you loved is no longer with us… Whisper their name at the stroke of midnight, I promise they will hear you on the other side, and they will listen to whatever message you deliver.” A flicker of sadness washes over Lana’s features, though she turns abruptly and descends the stage, eager to mingle amongst the guests and admire all their costumes.


Talyara takes a steadying breath, never having been one to enjoy the spotlight, before stepping out from a door on the left, appearing before the crowd as a vision in white, showing off a much healthier figure than the one she sported earlier in the year. The gown is strapless with a sweetheart neckline, showing off (perhaps too much thanks to Lanara’s wrong measurements) her ample cleavage, and cinching at her waist. From there, the soft fabric is elegantly ruched down to the floor, a flirty slit cutting up the front of the dress to her mid-thigh. Several sparkly gems have been arranged on the bodice along the witch’s sternum, adding a bit of shimmer to the otherwise plain garment. The younger witch normally kept her makeup to a minimum; however, for tonight’s festivities she had dolled herself up a bit with more dramatic eye makeup and a bolder pink lipstick. Matching white heels hoist her up several more inches and clack against the ground with each step she takes. Talyara’s normally messy curls have been smoothed straight save for the tips which end in elegant waves, and floating several inches above her crown was a peculiar halo made of oranges. In her left hand she holds an out of place sparkly wand. Unbeknownst to the crowd, the sister witches had agreed to dress as an angel and devil (complimenting their personalities) but as a fun little twist, they had designed each other’s costumes, only seeing them just before their entrances! As she joins her sister, looking ravishing in her sexy red dress, center stage, she returns the little jab with her elbow and speaks out of the corner of her mouth in a hushed whisper only Lana could hear. “Only you could mess up an angel costume! Where are my wings? Why is my halo made of oranges? What is the wand for? And for Goddess’s sake I gave you my measurements! I’m spilling out of this bodice!” Taly’s right hand comes to tug up on the neckline of her dress. “This is on par with the spongy neck brace costume from when we were children!” Her annoyance at her wardrobe malfunction seems to ebb away when Lanara begins to complain about her pitchspork and a mischievous smirk curves itself on her lips. “Lana, we both know what happened when you were trusted with a fork. You -stabbed- that poor woman’s hand! There was blood everywhere! And mother said you were only allowed to use sporks from then on. You think I’d trust you with a full sized pitchfork?!” Taly snickers but all arguments soon stop when they remember they are supposed to be speaking to all those assembled, and the elder witch steps forward to offer an explanation of the meaning behind the high holiday that they are celebrating this evening. When it is Taly’s turn to speak, she first ensures that her dress is properly in place so that she wouldn’t flash all the guests, and steps forward. Taly’s doe-like emerald eyes scan the faces of everyone in attendance and a beaming smile brightens her face despite her comical appearance. “Thank you everyone for joining us here this evening! We are blessed and honored that you have chosen to celebrate Samhain with us. I am going to keep this short so we can get on with festivities.” Talyara raises her right hand towards the ceiling, her palm open as if about to deliver a blessing upon the room. “As the darkness now draws near, see the ending cycle of the year. As the light now goes within, let the Hallow’s dance begin!” As cheers erupt from the crowd and the Backstreet Bards strike a chord, Talyara offers a hand towards her sister so that may descend the steps and finally join the party.


Shishi has a throw pillow under his shirt to create the illusion of a beer belly, and one of those hats that hold beer cans with straws that go down to his mouth, but instead of beer, it is two bottles of blood wine.


Tiber would not normally attend festivities, but balls were the exception. Large events meant people needed work done for a pretty coin. The Catalian walks into the festivities in a black tie, white button-up, a black blazer, and black slacks. This portion of him was bland, but the paint that detailed his face made his costume make sense. As simple as his costume was, his costume was edgy and subtle enough to get things done. His eyes had painted black circles and nothing but amber irises filled the void. A black line traced crossed his lips to his cheek bones where black filled his cheekbones making him hollow. Vertical lines rested as if to act like skull teeth. His cheekbones were defined by gray and white shading and there were several painted cracks within his skull facade. The skeleton make up was realistic and slid down to his neck where a detailed vertebra with under body ligaments connected. The rest of his body was hidden by clothes except his hands where they were also painted to make skeleton-like hands. The man who was once blonde dusted his hair black for the occasion. Although he would not be a winner, he was festive either way which was a plus for Tiberius Lowell. Only those who could pick up his lean stature and Catalian accent could really recognize him. Amber eyes skim the crowd of people in their costumes. The lycan is looking for someone specific, and he casually saunters through the crowd while taking an offered moonlight margarita drink off a waiter’s tray. As Talyara and Lanara make their entrances, there might have been a jaw-dropping moment, but that is an easy pick-up. The man then moves forth with his mission towards a woman with a dull gaze in a marionette costume seated at one of the decorated tables.


Gevurah intends to attend this Hallow's Eve ball for her own amusement. She has come armed with a fun little game to inflict on the surfacers, but it wouldn't do for her to be discovered before it was time to play her game. Thus she came in costume: she is a surfacer dressed as the scariest thing she can think of: Gevurah D'Artes. Dressed opulently but modesty, in long sleeves, gloves and a full dress that obscure her true race, she pretends to be a human wearing a drow mask. The mask permanently scowls. She stays away from the other party-goers to avoid discovery. She spies Shishi's 'costume' and is confused by his hat. She taps a stranger on the shoulder (it happens to be Tiber) and points at Shishi. "Explain to me that hat at once!" she barks. So much for being discreet.


Elioyahazer || Long before Elioyahazer even enters the ballroom, there is a foreshadowing of noise. A grotesque gurgle of moans, and off-handed, undecipherable words. A gasp echoes out while some fair maiden backs away from the costumed Eli. For what enters the room next is a man dressed as a mummy; a supposed owner of some random tomb from within the deserts of Gualon. Further testament to this is noted in the shining gold sun symbol hanging from his neck. His bandages are dirty, gritty and covered in dried, albeit fake, blood. Parts of his own face are wrapped up as well, allowing only pieces of his visage to show through. But the real trick lies in the single golden ring upon his finger - a glamour ring which holds enchantments that twist his features up into a nightmarish creature. Teeth are missing, drool is dripping, and his arms are reaching for people playfully. “Brai...Ns..” His voice rings out as a terrible moan. His acting skills are obviously subpar. Save for his labored walk, which is rather convincing. However, his costume is decidedly an excellent disguise, and even Lanara, who spends so much time with Eli, would have difficulty deciphering his identity. If he hadn’t told her what he was dressing up as beforehand. Finally he scurries off into the crowd, playfully chasing some poor servant who happens to carry an odd assortment of drinks. But when the announcements commence he comes to a halt, watching for moments. What were they wearing? Is that a pitch-spork? Either way, Eli is once again staggering towards Lanara as she exits the stage, with his arms still outstretched.


Krice didn't dress in a costume for the ball, but he did wear a smarter shirt than his usual; an obvious choice of black, pressed smooth with the top two buttons undone. Against his back sat his usual katana, sheathed but ready to draw if necessary. He never had been one much for parties. Upon entering the 'haunted' house, he turned from the threshold to mingle with the masses - though only as far as passing by their various mini-congregations. His location of choice was predominantly the edges of the room, surveying the crowds from a more complete perspective, his naturally heightened senses attuned to the surroundings. Upon entrance of the sisters atop the stage, his gaze was first drawn to Lanara given his angle in the room opposite her approach, sparing her appearance a speculative glance and little more. Talyara soon stepped into view and he watched her with more prominent interest, her halo of oranges drawing his mouth upward at the left corner; an amused smirk accompanying a quiet scoff. Her apparent discomfort may have been short-lived, but the warrior noticed. As silent as ever in respect to the description of the evening's purpose, he forwent further amusement and let his gaze drift outward across the faces of other party-goers. Nothing immediately stood out to grab Krice's attention - though seconds later, he spotted a creature barking orders to a man dressed in a black-and-white ensemble. Something in her voice held the warrior's attention longer than he had initially intended, but as Tiber answered--or shunned--Gevurah, the swordsman's focus shifted once more. He turned to approach the edge of the stage, cutting a fluid and unhurried line through the crowds to approach Talyara presumably on her way down. On his approach, he retrieve a cupcake from one of the servants and thanked the other man with a nod. Once near enough, Krice extended his left hand toward Talyara - presuming she had a moment to greet him. It was in this time that the glamoured mummy drew the swordsman's attention, crimson eyes perusing the wrapped figure inquisitively. Apparently that costume had impressed him somewhat - more so than the Gevurah-wannabe.


Tiber opens his mouth as if to say something to the marionette before being tapped on the shoulder while yelling in his ear. The Catalian turns head turns slowly in agitation towards the drow-masked woman. He looks over her as if she was a buzz kill. He just got here, okay? “Well, what do you think it looks like, your majesty?” The smartness flows out of his mouth. This was probably the wrong choice.


Lanara is about to track down a waiter and have a much needed margarita, her heels hitting the last step of the stage, when a moaning mummy jumps out of the fog with his arms outstretched. Yes, she knew Eli’s costume beforehand, however, she wasn’t certain of his acting abilities and she’s so startled that she lifts that pitchspork. “Hands off!” Ever the vixen, the tip of the spork makes contact with Eli’s shoulder, bopping him enough to get his attention, though not enough to cause any real damage. “I need a drink!” Lana scowls not picking up on the fact that it was her –date- that she sporked, though she does live up to her reputation as a she-devil. Talyara was right; she couldn’t be trusted with an actual fork. Lana wiggles her fingers in greeting to Krice as he’s toying with a cupcake, a wicked grin on her face as Taly approaches the enigma. That orange halo was a brilliant prank! Moving through the crowd, Lana looks for the form of a muscular mummy, “Where is my date!?” If Eli left her at this event she’d never forgive him! Of course, in passing, she saunters past Tiber and Gevurah and narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Tiber.” She would be civil. “Is –this- your date?” A glance was given to the drow disguised as a drow, “I hope you enjoy your evening!”


Gevurah reflexively rears her hand back to smack him across that smart mouth, but she remembers herself, and her purpose here, and refrains. She has a higher purpose than this surfacer scum. To stay, she must play the part of a 'happy' surfacer herself. "Happy Hallow's Eve to you," she growls as she pushes away from Tiber.


Elioyahazer finds himself laughing at her reaction and his own disguise. Seems when the pranking isn’t done by her, she doesn’t like it so much. The mummy waves to Taly and the unknown figure Krice, turning his attention to Lanara. After approaching her once more while rubbing the spot where he had been stabbed by the pitchspork he speaks, in that familiar tone. “You totally just stabbed your date, Lana.” Oh yes, Eli was the mummy. He pulls off the ring as he speaks, revealing those familiar features to her in a second. He smiles at her, and re-equips that enchanted item. His toothy grin is rather gross, but he seems to enjoy this costume.


Gevurah laughs at Lanara's suggestion that Tiber is her date. "I prefer my men with a little more color."


Talyara eyes the incoming, grotesque mummy as soon as her heeled feet step off the stairs. She gives her sister a sidelong glance before muttering a quick, “See ya later, Lana!” and turns to head in the other direction as quickly as she can only to be intercepted by the warrior. Taly smiles sweetly up at him, accepting his offered hand, emerald eyes sweeping him from head to toe before aligning her eyes with his crimson gaze. “Nice costume. Let me guess…you’re a banker?” she teases with an arched brow before gesticulating up to her jacked up halo. “Can you believe she used -oranges-?!”


Krice dipped his head in greeting to Elioyahazer, a more reserved one for Lanara, passed a quizzical stare across the Gevurah-wannabe for her laughter--she had the obnoxiousness down pat--and then returned his attention to Talyara. Curling his fingers, he captured the witch's hand and drew her closer, their coupled palms resting at a relaxed angle between their bodies. Her teasing query inspired a smirk, though it was her latter regard of the enchanted halo of oranges that earned an answer: "I'm not surprised. It's amusing, though." Lifting his gaze, the warrior counted the rotating fruits before adding, "She probably should've added more, though - for accuracy." A brow quirked in devilish playfulness, insinuating that which was left unsaid. Perhaps the stoic warrior's costume was to behave as someone with more obvious personality. Scurry.


Shishi gets stopped constantly as he moves around the party. It is a wonder that there is anyone in Lithrydel that doesn't have something with the Blue Demon's autograph on it, but even here they exist. He hands out a half dozen signatures, a dozen high fives, and offers two or three non-vampires a sip from his straw jokingly. "It's real blood." Then he comes across The Not-Gevurah-Gevurah, laughs, "That's hilarious," and tries to sign the forehead of the drow mask


Lanara finally snatches a moonlight margarita off of a passing tray, her lips barely gracing the glass, when she’s tapped on the shoulder. It was that blasted mummy from before, likely wanting to grope her goodies! If her assassin was here, he’d surely end this goon! Pitchspork raised, she spins on her heel, and that’s when the ring is slid from his finger and the added enchantments dissolve. It was her date! “Oh! Sandman!” It dawns on her then, that she had bopped him with her spork moments before, and then ran off. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” Obviously it hadn’t hurt him, but the notion that she struck Eli didn’t set well with the witch. Leaning in, she places a chaste kiss to his shoulder, above the many layers of wrapping, “All better, Mummy Man?” Their moment is interrupted by the drow’s bark of laughter, and Lana can’t help but chuckle at Gevurah’s words, “So do I. Cinnamon skin is all the rage these days!”


Gevurah hisses at Shishi and reaches into her bottomless satchel for a weapon, but then she remembers again! She cannot murder and maim until her game! Catching herself in the moment, she barks at Shishi, "Stop it, I'm in character. One of those, uh, surfacers who, uh, what did Izzerin call it? Acts! An actor. yes! Good bye! I hate you! That's acting! Good bye!"


Talyara has no idea who the weird mummy is, but he seems to know Lanara so she offers him a wave before turning back to Krice. His comment about the oranges causes her jaw to literally drop and she smacks him playfully before giggling in spite of herself. “Hold on, I forgot to make an announcement.” Untangling her hand from the warrior’s, the witch moves back over to the stage so that she can call attention to all the guests who are enjoying the party thus far. “Excuse me everyone!” she calls over the crowd. “My stunning sister and I will be standing over at that table in just a moment,” Taly says gesticulating with her left hand towards a small table near the stage. “Please come see us to cast your vote for best male and female costumes! Just write the names down on a slip of paper and place it into the decorative basket and Lana and I will tally up the votes. Remember, no voting for yourselves! I expect you all to vote!” she says with a cheeky grin before hopping off the stage and heading over to the table to begin accepting votes, tugging Krice along in her wake.


Gevurah, to escape Shishi, follows a crowd of voters to the basket. She has no idea who the contestants are and peeks at the papers of those around her and copies their names. She ends up copying 'Elioyahazer' and 'Talyara' though she is clueless as to who these dumb surfacers are.


Krice didn't ask for Shishi's autograph when he neared, but he did offer a nod of greeting. They had seen each other once or twice in previous years, during some battle for Lithrydel or another. Talyara's incredulity at his joke was met with a smirk and he made a show of shying away from her playful swat, because little witches were much stronger than big warriors, you know, and their hits hurt. He watched the brunette meander away to voice a previously-forgotten announcement, which drew his attention to the table in question. At some point he found himself pulled toward it--literally--by the renewed link of Talyara's hand with his own. At the table, the warrior waited for Gevurah-Imposter to write her votes before he placed his own, voting for Elioyahazer and Gevurah herself. Color him impressed. But not actually more colored, because... Gevurah's racist preferences.


Shishi pulls back, raises an eyebrow at the strange fake drow, and shrugs. "Ok, ok. Geez." He walks away muttering something about Syrri fans... He goes to vote for the best costumes and writes 'Female: She-Devil Male: Gevurah' onto the paper he submits.


Lanara snatches one of the papers to cast a vote of her own, she’d be fair and not mess with the order, either. Karma was after all, always to be obeyed. Dipping the quill in some ink, she hesitates, her gaze scanning the crowd. “Hm…” What costumes did she admire the most? Smirking, she scribbles “Tiber” for the best dressed male… And “Talyara” for the best dressed female. The paper is folded and dropped into the pumpkin bucket with a grin.


Tiber is surprised that Lanara even recognized him. He frowns at Gevurah. "No..." He then nods curtly back, but he is still frowning due to their "civil" mannerisms. "Thanks, same. Nice party." He says awkwardly. "I'll find you in a bit to catch up. I have to meet with uh... my date." Not really. The marionette was not his date. Just an act.


Elioyahazer releases another smirk. “Much better, She-Devil. Now who should we go harass?” But just then the announcement comes, and Eli snickers. “Shall we go cast our votes?” When the two arrive at the voters basket, Eli casts his vote for the drow-who-is-pretending-to-be-a-drow-pretending-to-be-a-surfacer (Gevurah), and the beer wielding Shishi. There, he thinks to himself, all done.


Talyara takes her position behind the table but not before scribbling her own answers on the two scraps of parchment. Perhaps she was biased, but it didn’t stop the little witch from scribbling ‘Lanara’ as the best female costume before scanning the room to consider the best male costume. Despite the grotesque nature she had to admit that Elioyahazer was the most creative and quickly jots his name down as well, folding the pieces and tossing them into the basket.


Krice maneuvered into place beside Talyara and just out of her reach, though she was within hers, once his votes had been cast. From there, he watched the others congregate to write their own opinions on those little pieces of parchment, his gaze lingering on the Not-Gevurah but diverting before long.


Lanara applauds with the rest of the crowd as the two winners are announced, and she quickly scans the room for a familiar face. At the side door, she locks eyes with Venin, the caretaker from the sanctuary, and she gives a nod. Minutes later, the prizes to be awarded are leashed, muzzled, and carefully coaxed into the ballroom. Lana weaves through the crowd and takes over, as the second her palm is placed upon each animal’s head, they instantly calm and obey her every command. The pink leash is taken and attached is a stunning feline, a cross between a lion and a tiger, and an unmistakable chill is felt when in her presence. The massive cat stalks at Lana’s side, eyeing her new mistress curiously, before the exchange is made. “Congratulations, Drowess! You look amazing tonight, and I know that you’ll give this sweet kitty a good home!” Would she, really? A pang of heartache hits Lana so hard that she quickly turns from the cat and the underground dweller. Retreating, and with a sniffle as she was overly fond of the liger, Lana accepts the blue leash, which holds a fearsome wolverine in place. Excessive heat pours off the animals fur, and puffs of smoke exit his mouth with every growl. The animal angrily eyes the guests, taking in each possible victim if he were to break loose, though he doesn’t seem to mind the presence of the witch, or his new owner, once the leash changes hands. “Congratulations, Sandman! Your costume is awesome! I hardly recognized my handsome man earlier. Take good care of this little guy, okay? At least I’ll be seeing you both often!” Both beasts would provide a lifetime of protection, loyalty, and companionship.


Gevurah's eyes widen in genuine surprise. She knew she was dressed as the scariest thing a surfacer could ever imagine, but she hadn't come expecting to win the more juvenile activity of the evening! Yet nonetheless, her ferociously competitive personality quickly resumes control of her faculties and she stands up straight and puffs up smugly. Of course she won. She's the best at everything, even costuming without much effort. She literally wore the same clothes she always wears, so at least her 'costume' is authentic. "Thanks you. Yes, a pet. Does it do anything?" Gevurah shivers. "Ah magic, yes, very good. A fair prize." She eyes Elioyahazer's wolverine briefly and contemplates stealing that beast for her collection as well, but decides against such recklessness. She's moments away from pursuing her true purpose here tonight.


Talyara assists her sister in counting up the votes before clapping along with the other guests as the winners are announced. A sympathetic look is given to Lanara as she relinquishes the leash of liger, an animal she had a particular fondness for. The witch reaches for Krice’s hand once more, lacing her fingers with his and gives his palm a squeeze. “I’m going to get something to drink.”


Elioyahazer too is eyeing Gevurah’s pet, in case he feels like stealing hers as well. Could be fun to snatch something from a drow. Might even be like a game of hide and seek. However, when he is also announced as a winner, he glances to Lanara; just as shocked as Gevurah. All he wanted to do was chase a few people around. “Brai...ns.” Its the only words he offers in response while hungrily eyeing his new pet playfully. He wouldn’t actually eat it… “Thanks Lana.” He offers a grotesque toothy grin - drool is still dribbling down his enchanted features.


Lanara is pleased that Gevurah was somewhat pleased with the liger, bred for its skills and magic. It eases –some- of her worries, though Eli’s reaction to the wolverine is making some of those previous worries resurface. Brains? Was that drool?! Lana sighs, as the bard’s play a slow song, one of her absolute favorites. She’d maybe have sidled close to her assassin for a dance… But he’s too busy drooling and giving her a toothy grin. Instead, she satisfies her craving with a candy corn cupcake.


Gevurah :: As the crowd mingles in harmless Halloween fun, Gevurah sneaks backstage undetected thanks to her enchanted piwafwi which makes her appear as no more than a shadow. A few minutes later, she re-emerges, sans-mask, and flanked by D’Artes guards and pushing a festively decorated dolly. Jack-o-lanterns, candied apples, and faux black cats, autumn leaves and fake cobwebs made of spun cotton sit along the perimeter of the dolly. The fun decorations hide a more sinister arrangement of reagents at the dolly’s center. From a bird’s eye view, one would see a bronze shallow bowl filled with blood, bones and a quartz prism the size of a fist. Crushed glass, dried nightshade leaves, and sprinkling of graveyard dirt encircle the bowl. At center stage, Gevurah stands behind the dolly and shouts at the boy band to cease that racket!! In silence, she whispers a chant to her dark god. Soon the air tears like taut fabric. Within seconds, a bright portal snaps into existence the size of an oval dressing mirror. Through the portal the crowd can see a gallow, dimly lit in a damp cavern with an executioner standing on its platform. A young fair woman hangs in the gallows, her arms and legs stretched out so that she’s spread like a star. She’s dressed in robes that bear the emblem of Selene. By the look of her, this young woman was snatched from Cenril. She screams for help and writhes helplessly against the restraints. The Drow Matron speaks in her heavily accented common. Her voice, trained to speak in cavernous temples to thousands of worshippers, booms through the manor. “What fun it must be to dance with harmless devils and play with toys!” She kicks a jack-o-lantern off the dolly. “Let us play a better game, a game with real stakes! I recently learned of a delightful children’s game you surfacers enjoy, a game called Hangman. Ring a bell? Let us play! I am thinking of a phrase with 9 words, one of them is ‘and’. Observe!” The two guards unfurl between them a long banner filled with blanks marking where letters should be. “For each letter you guess incorrectly, this female loses an extremity. Fail to guess my phrase, and she’ll lose her head. Don’t worry, she won’t die from blood loss. She’s been enchanted to survive the wounds, though I’m afraid I did not offer her any anesthetic. That would really deprive this game of all its fun! But you have my word, if you guess my phrase before she loses her head, I’ll return her to you whole. If you fail, well,” she chuckles sinisterly, “Happy Hallow’s Eve! You’ll be sorted into 3 teams. I heard a ghost that haunts this manor has been giving out little gifts. If you were given a sword, you are Team Fight, if you were given a shield you are Team Run, and if you were given a scythe,” Gevurah pulls out from beneath her piwafwi a scythe of her own, “Then you are Team Murder. How lucky for you, I am on your team.”


Krice for whatever reason didn't realize that the prizes for 'King and Queen' would be animals. Poor lion-cat, given to the would-be drow. Here was hoping his senses were off tonight, and she wasn't actually Gevurah after all. When Talyara's hand found his own and squeezed, he glanced her way, reciprocating the touch as he acknowledged her with a nod. The warrior moved when the witch did, his steps more casual to keep him close, At some point, he had eaten the cupcake previously given to him by one of the ball servants, for now his hands were free to hang idly at his sides. Whilst Talyara busied herself with retrieving a drink, magic rent the air and a portal revealed a scene in which the star of the show - the captured maiden - seemed entirely too frightened to be acting. Gevurah revealed herself, announced her intentions through the gory plot of a game, and the warrior reached up to take hold of his katana's hilt, his right hand extending behind him in a gesture for Talyara to keep her distance. Crimson eyes set on the matron, the warrior considered his odds. Could he sever -her- head before her guards delayed him long enough to ensure the captured maiden's premature death.


Lanara goes ballistic when the Backstreet Bards stop playing, she’s stuttering and stammering, and her cheeks are turning as crimson as her gown. A vampire, obviously who had a little too much to drink, bumps into her and his hand grazes the top of her legendary derriere. Tossing the remains of her margarita on his chest, she heads for the stage to converse with Nick, the lead singer. The liger was given to a drow. Her sister’s halo enchantment was soon to wear off. And now this evening was starting to take a dark turn! As the dolly is wheeled out, the brunette crosses her arms, glaring at Gevurah and the company that walks at her side. The speech is given, the banner is lifted, and Lana’s chocolate hues fixate on the helpless victim. She couldn’t let someone die at the Samhain Shindig! “Team FIGHT!” She declares, accepting her sword from one of the bouncers that was hired for this event. Some good they are, as they don’t even try to apprehend the matron.


Talyara ’s fingers just manage to grasps a refreshing moonlight margarita when a chill runs the length of her spine, an indication that some dark energy is in the air. She relinquishes her beverage before turning to look for the source, her eyes widening in disbelief when she spies the captured maiden. A frown tugs on the corners of her lips and the witch intends to step forward only to be held back by Krice who holds out his hand to keep her back. She hears Lana call out her team and she nods her head in agreement. “I’m team fight, too!” she echoes her sister.


Lanara has a good feeling about team 'Fight' as they have the people's champ, Shishi, on their side.


Gevurah said, "Round 1, everyone, the Titan of Attention-seeking and I go first. Your guess, Titan of Tantrums?"

Shishi knows the greatest letter, "S!" and yells it out with no regard for someone else's limbs!

Gevurah said to Tiber, "Your turn! Guess a letter."

Tiber is still talking up that marionette at the table with the batted lashes when everything cuts off. His attention moves to the stage where a helpless woman is screaming. Someone pokes his shoulder again giving him the indication that he is Team Run because the shield is on the table in front of him. He was busy staring at the pretty lady. The first letter is given, and he turns and yells. “I!” Beat, and then he mumbles. “For I am never going to an event like this again.” He chose “I” everybody.


Gevurah writes the two I’s with a flourish. “My turn!” She turns pensively towards the banner then shouts “Z!” knowing full well there’s a slim chance there’s a ‘z’ in most common phrases. The executioner swings his great axe and slices through the maiden’s shoulder. The severed joint spews blood for a moment before glowing with a magical enchantment that quickly stops the bleeding. The enchantment does nothing for the pain, however, and the young lady screams and screams, turning her blood-spattered face towards her shoulder in disbelief. Her arm lies limp on the floor. Gevurah claps her hands together in delight!


Shishi said to Gevurah, "You're terrible at this game too."


Gevurah said to Lanara, "You're next!"


Gevurah said to Shishi, "Am I? Then I'll keep practicing with you as the hanged man."


Lanara stands with her team, patting Shishi on the shoulder as he declares the letter ‘S’ and she couldn’t be more proud. “Nice work! We’ve got this!” A confident nod is given to Krice and Talyara, also on Team Fight. Tiber’s guess was a good one, and she gives him a faint smile, before glancing at the helpless victim on stage. This was horrible… Sick… Twisted on so many levels. She thinks about her assassin, and scans the room for a sign of the mummified male. What team had he chosen?! He wasn’t one to run… They lock eyes across the room and she sighs as Gevurah looks to her for a letter. “I choose… T…”


Krice lowered his arm when Talyara announced alongside her sister that she was on 'Team Fight'. What a bizarre - and quite frankly, morbid - game. Releasing his own sword upon offering of another smaller weapon, the warrior regarded Gevurah as people called out their guesses to fill in the note, his gaze intermittently passing to the captured maiden. His animosity toward the aforementioned female lay with unmistakable malice in his eyes. With the correct guess of 'I' by Tiber, he glanced at the note. Gevurah's intentional miss-guess drew his focus shortly after, and he watched as the captured maiden's arm was severed at the shoulder. Her screams spurred him to action; when Gevurah turned around to clap her glee, she'd be greeted by the twinkle of light refracting off a dagger blade as it torpedoed toward her face, clearing the bodies of the other guests with every hope that it could bypass her guards and pierce her forehead - as Lanara called out her own guess.


Talyara watches the scene unfurl with horror. She is momentarily relieved when Shishi and Tiber guess correct letters but her face pales as Gevurah purposefully (in her estimation) guesses an obscure one and an arm is lobbed off the maiden. The witch grips the back of Krice’s shirt, clutching the fabric for a brief moment before looking away as the woman screams, wrapping her own arms around her body protectively. Lana is up next and Taly takes a steadying breath as another correct answer is given. She had completely missed the warrior throwing a dagger towards the drow matron.


Elioyahazer doesn’t believe anything before his eyes. He’s been privy to a plethora of strong Illusions, and even if it were real? Who cares? It’s not him being paraded around onstage. Much like Gevurah, Eli chooses something he thinks isn’t very likely. “Q!” He jumps with his answer, “As in quack quack,” The mummy tucks his arms inwards and flaps them. Hoping that she would lose another limb. Yes, he’s waddling around like a duck. What a moron.


Gevurah reacts quickly to the thrown dagger but Krice's aim was true. The blade slices her defensive forearm and she shrieks in anger and pain. "YOU FOOLS! I can end her life with a snap of my fingers! You do not know where she is! If you want to save her, you must play my game--and win! Your pathetic attempts to fight me will only aggravate me and I'll kill her if you don't play along!" Blood drips from Gevurah's arm onto the stage. She lets it run, not daring to let Krice know the cut hurts, though it certainly does. Her expression is pinched as she says, "T, yes, two T's. You there," she points at Tiber with her good hand. "Your turn." There is a wariness to her actions and she won't turn her back on Krice again.


Tiber has a look of disgust and looks as if he is about to vomit. “Holy sh—“ gag. He keeps as far away as possible from the stage. He was one to run – stealthy rogue. Also, he did not ask for this madness. Whenever Lanara was around, he could not catch a break. She was unlucky. Lanara then makes her guess and there is anticipation. He locks eyes on her. “T” is correct. His heart jumps a beat, and for some reason, he cannot stop looking at Lanara. Amber eyes cautious. “H!”


Gevurah fills in Tiber's 'H' and listens as the executioner chops off the girl's arm for Elio's guess of 'Q'. She doesn't clap this time, despite enjoying Elio's antics. Krice has really soured the game for her. She wraps her cut in her piwafwi. She looks at Talyara "You're next."


Krice didn't advance upon Gevurah, partly because of her warning, and in part because of the tension he had felt briefly on his shirt; Talyara was behind him, warning him in her own way. At least the drow bitch could suffer some discomfort for her twisted idea of entertainment. Taking a single step back, the warrior extended a hand out for the brunette behind him, to offer her some comfort in this hideous situation, though his gaze did not drift away from the front of the room.


Talyara swallows hard as it is now her turn to guess. She looks from the captured woman to the banner and back again, quite sure that those screams would echo in her mind for quite some time. What is she guessed wrong and was the cause for such a thing? “E…” she stammers out.


Shishi sips from his blood wine hat before telling Gevurah, "You're bleeding."


Gevurah writes down all the E's and points at Tiber, "Next!"


Tiber almost feels proud that he got two in a row. Yeah! No, another limb! Tiber squints at the sight. What the heck is Eli, doing? “Q” was a horrible answer. Tiber then loses his facial expression as Talyara guesses his next letter. Now, he has to think carefully. “R.” He is confident. R was a good letter, right?


Lanara pales as her date casts forth the letter ‘Q’ and another severed limb hits the stage. By now, the bards have moved their equipment and are setting up a safe distance away. They’d continue to play, if anyone dared remain at the ball after this tragedy. Eli is waddling like a duck, drooling from the enchantment, and looking like a mummy gone cuckoo. What the hell was going on?! The woman lowers her head, sickened by the actions taking place, and growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment. Lifting her head, she finds Tiber to still be staring her way, and she can tell he’s just as sickened by the events taking place. Taking a deep breath, she steadies her focus on his amber gaze across the way, they’d use each other as a peaceful distraction. Oddly, she found strength in the lycan, and he possibly found it in the witch.


Gevurah writes the R's then takes her turn. "W!" The executioner chops off the girl's leg at the hip! She screams and nearly faints from the pain and shock, but the same enchantment that stops her from bleeding out keeps her awake. She points at Krice. "You!"


Talyara reads the banner over and over, her green eyes scanning each and every letter as the blanks are filled in, the witch ignoring the screams as she squeezes Krice’s hand. ‘What could it be?’ she thinks to herself. And then it hits her just as the warrior is called to give his answer.


Krice pressed his lips shut. The warrior wasn't a stranger to the sounds of civilians screaming in terror, caught in the midst of a war; collateral damage barely thought of during the heat of battle. But those cries always faded; this captured maiden would suffer for as long as Gevurah saw fit. Lifting his chin, he called to the drow woman, "You're a cheap whore. Just putting it out there." Talyara's squeeze of his hand drew his focus but he didn't yet look away from the drow and her victim - until the witch whispered her message. Crimson eyes swiveled to meet emerald. If he guessed a single letter, it would by the maiden some more time but put her at further risk of the idiots who threw out nonsensical guesses and cheered at her dismemberment. Through that stare, the warrior asked the witch to be certain, and then he diverted his gaze back to Gevurah. Lifting his chin, he announced to the dark-skinned creature, " The whole phrase: 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here'."


Gevurah‘s lips curl in disdain as Krice gets the answer right (with Talyara’s help). It doesn’t bother the drow that the surfacers guessed the phrase, but it does bother her that of all the surfacers, the 'hero' had to be this insolent little *beep*. "Well done," she says grudgingly. Gevurah is seldom a drow of her word, but she is the sporting sort with nothing on the line in this particular game. With no motive to cheat, she returns to the dolly and its bronze dish and utters another prayer. The prayer grows into an echoing chant. The rooms hums with tense magic and anything loose such as skirts and hair shake and flap in a sudden gust of wind. The girl disappears from the portal window and suddenly emerges head first from the bronze bowl like a cobra charmed from a basket. Her body is soaked through with blood, but, as promised, she has all her limbs regenerated, she is born anew. Gevurah shoves the girl forward towards the heroes and winners of the game. "Your prize," she hisses.


Lanara is relieved when Krice guesses the phrase, and she flashes a smile to her little sister. The enigma was a good man, and he had hopefully put an end to the pain of Gevurah’s prisoner. A team of medics appears and approaches the stairs, and the bards resume playing their music. A slow song, to fit the melancholy mood of those gathered, and Lana sighs, turning away from everyone. That was horrific. She’d never host another event again. Had she known this beforehand… It’s suddenly hard to breathe, so she walks out into the garden, though she speaks to Taly over her shoulder, “Do some trivia! There are trick or treat bags to hand out! I’ll be back in a minute.”


Shishi is glad he didn't have to guess again.


Gevurah packs up her dolly cart of horror and heads out with her guard. She was right about one thing, live hangman was fun! The dumb warrior ruined it with his "heroics", but no matter, the drow got her thrill. No to go home and bandage this arm.


Tiber jerks his head a little at the thought of another limb is taken. He does find Lanara as stability, and he senses that she feels that way too. Krice is ready to take his turn. Meanwhile, the lycan moves his eyes away from the witch and reads over the words over and over. He could hear the woman become faint through shock. Then, Krice guesses the phrase. It makes sense. The phrase is right, and his shoulders ease. He looks down at the table where the marionette was. She is gone. “Shoot,” he gazes around the area to find her. He would have to track her down again for the information he needed.


Shishi is an assassin. So naturally he follows Gevurah out and heckles her halfway back to the Underdark. If that guard tries to get frisky, maybe The Blue Demon will squeeze his blood out into one of the wine bottles on his hat...


Elioyahazer stops with the antics - even quits pretending to be a mummy and heads on over to Lanara once more. Whether or not this was a real event or not he cared little and moved along, following Lanara outside when the scene ends. There wouldn’t be a single person to stop the assassin. He knows of her soft heart, and because of this believes this drow might have ruined the event; at least in her mind. Eli slips the ring from his finger, dropping the spelled illusion, and meets her. “Lana,” he speaks once they are alone.


Talyara uses all her strength to squeeze at Krice’s hand, on the verge of hysterics should the drowess say the phrase is incorrect but luckily that isn’t the case and if her dress hadn’t been so tight she might have collapsed to the ground. “Dear Goddess above,” she whispers fanning her face with her hand. She vaguely hears Lana’s words and turns in her direction as she mentions trivia before leaving for the garden. Unwilling to relinquish her grip on the warrior, she tugs him towards the stage. “Umm…now that that is over with, I think something more lighthearted is in order, yeah?” She waits until she has the guests’ attention before speaking. “I’m going to give you a question or riddle, just shout your answer out.” Talyara said, "Out of what vegetable were Jack O’ Lanterns originally made?"


Krice 's relief wasn't obvious, perhaps because some small part of him was enjoying the sneer he got from the she-devil (not Lanara) who orchestrated the letter-game. Revel in the contempt, dirt-dweller. The warrior's eyes drifted to the revealed maiden, whole once more albeit covered in blood and understandably distraught. With medics on hand to tend to the woman, he diverted his gaze to the witch at his side, squeezing her hand in reassurance - and perhaps gratitude, that she had the smarts to solve the phrase when she did. Following her lead, Krice moved toward the stage but turned his attention to the others present, namely Lanara in retreat. If he felt any compassion for her, it was in that moment, fleeting but genuine. Silent at Talyara's side, the silver-haired enigma provided her comfort and support - by that single contact between their hands - whilst she worked to lighten the mood.


Lanara is speaking with a man in a clown costume, a comforting hand pats him awkwardly on the shoulder as the little woman tries to lift his spirits. “I will bob for apples with you, really! I promise. It will go smoothly… I… Things didn’t work out for me tonight, either. Well, you saw what happened in there…” She sighs, and the clown tries to make her laugh by making her a heart shaped balloon. There are so many twists and turns that Lana grows dizzy watching his hands form the object, so she glances away, to see a few people heading into the corn maze. At least a few guests had remained. She’d forever be dubbed the witch that held horrible events. Blinking back tears, she takes a deep breath and prepares to head back in. She couldn’t abandon her sister. Taly would almost be through with trivia, and she’d be expected to continue the façade of a pleasant hostess. Lana’s breath catches as she hears her name, and her sad gaze lifts to lock onto the form of her date. “Sandman…” She wasn’t angry. The man probably thought the woman was a prop, and that this entire charade was part of an act. He hadn’t known of Gevurah’s wicked ways. Even if he had, well, he –was- a natural born killer, right? Lana feigns a smile and slips her arm through his, nudging him towards the door, “We should get back in there, right?” The show much go on. She considers showing her vulnerable side… But she has far too much to dissect right now, and she wouldn’t know where to start.


Lanara said, "Watermelon!"


Tiber finds himself staring too long at Lanara and Sandman as they move off privately. Talyara then sparks up another game, and this time, Tiber is out. There was always something with these events. He has had enough games for one night. The skeleton then takes his leave through what is left of the crowd and vanishes into the night.


Talyara blinks at the crowd as she waits for someone to answer. She hears someone call out ‘watermelon’ in the distance but other than that there is silence, everyone still too distracted from the previous horror to want to speak. Very well, she didn’t want the attention on her anyway. “Erm, never mind. Let’s just, uh, enjoy some music?” she says fixing Nick with a hard stare. It takes him a moment because his eyes remain locked on the door that Lana exited, but he soon realizes the other sister is glaring in his direction. “Oh!” he says clearing his throat and gesturing towards the other bards and they quickly begin to play a lively tune. Taly hops off the stage at looks towards the warrior with watery green eyes. I really, -really- need a drink.”


Elioyahazer doesn’t budge, keeping that arm of hers interlocked with his. His mutated eyes look over those delicate features; weighing the worth of her expressions and words. He knows she’s down and out. He can sense it in those expressions. Her tone of voice. “In a moment Lana,” Eli falls silent giving her a half quirked smile, and then whispers into her ear. After which, he promptly escorts Lanara back into the room. Just in time to here the riddle. “Turnips!”


Krice glanced out across the room but only briefly; Talyara was clearly - to him, at least - shaken by Gevurah's involvement in the extracurricular party events, and he silently observed her for any sign that he could help in some way. When she dismissed the riddle-game and stepped down from the stage, he drew her close by their linked hands and released hers to instead fold his arm around her shoulders, keeping her near. She needed a drink, so he'd lead her across the room to the tables on which alcohol had been arranged for easy access. He passed by Elioyahazer mid-guess and dipped his head in a distracted nod, an apologetic glance given to Lanara, before his attention swiveled back to the other sister. With his free hand, recently liberated of its borrowed sword with an uncaring toss to the floor, Krice scooped some punch into a cup and offered it to Talyara. " You saved her," he murmured, reassurance and subtle admiration marking his tone.


Lanara shakes her head at Eli’s words, though the corner of her mouth twitches and the hint of a real smile graces her fair face. “What even was that about? Where did you get that enchanted ring? It turned you into undead fowl!” The couple walks back into the ballroom, and she looks around to see only about a dozen guests remaining. Even half of the staff had cut out early, without their promise of gold. They could forget collecting in the future! Not that she entirely blamed them… Looking around, Lana spies Taly and Krice over by the bar and though she wants to go and comfort her sister, she thinks it best if she lets the enigma handle this one. Nothing brought more comfort than being held by strong arms, and she was privy to Taly’s emotions for the male. Nick is going on and on about being ‘sexual’ and the only ‘one’ and every so often winking and blowing kisses her way. Lana is repulsed by this, and grimaces, though she does tug Eli towards the dance floor. “Dance with me?” She didn’t care if it was fast or slow, hell, he would return to waddling like a duck, she just wanted to get her mind off of what had recently occurred.


Talyara turns her face into Krice’s side as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, briefly seeking comfort in his steady warmth. She breathes out a heavy sigh as he leads her over towards the bar and offers her a cup of punch. She graciously accepts the glass and downs half of it one gulp. At the warrior’s words she offers him a small smile before shaking her head. “Nah, we all did.”


Elioyahazer || For a moment, there is tension ‘pon his features - struggling to hold back that grin. “I paid a hefty sum for it, but nevermind where I got it. It was rather convincing.” Nicks obsessive words only earn a glance of mild annoyance. Eli has a pretty good idea where Nick can go stuff it. Krice’s nod receives one in return, despite the standings of the previous games. Regardless once they’ve reached the ballroom and she’s content with looking around, he’s all too happy to comply. A dance? He offers a hand, palm up as a way of accepting her request. She could have several. But this was their first, and she would be surprised. The Sandman’s free hand, meets her lower back, pressing her into him. Though he might look like a mummy, he doesn’t smell like one. Nay for instead she’d find his usual scent and a playful grin. However, she isn’t given a fast dance, but one which sits somewhere in between. Once more he whispers into her ear, ignoring the few that remain.


Krice nodded, a small gesture in concession; everyone had contributed to the game - some more helpful than others. Still, he murmured to Talyara, "Don't underestimate yourself." She had guessed the entire phrase, thus sparing the captured maiden from further suffering at the hands of the twisted drow matron. In the distant background, the noise of the bards hummed an annoying distraction from the darker thoughts as inspired by Gevurah's game, Elioyahazer's dance with Lanara provided him relief for the other witch's sanity, and the witch against his side thus stole the remainder - the majority - of his attention. "What can I do?" How could he wash away her distress?


Talyara watches as her sister and Elioyahazer move and sway to the music of the Backstreet Bards, Nick coveting obvious glances at Lanara when the sandman (hopefully) wasn’t looking. The younger witch, ever humble, merely shrugs when Krice bids her not to sell herself short and she downs the remainder of her punch before sighing. What could the warrior do to help? “Dance with me,” she says quietly after a moment, taking his hand and gently tugging him towards where Lana and Eli are. Assuming he follows her, she offers a smile to her sister before looking towards her sister’s date. “Is this Eczema?” she asks Lana with an arch of a brow, although there is a small smile on her lips so that Eli would know that she was only teasing even if she didn’t know his -actual- name yet.


Elioyahazer responds to Taly with a snicker. "Actually today I'm Egghead. I've been downgraded from Egg-beater."


Lanara is elated that her assassin grants her wish, and she smiles up at him as he pulls her close. Inhaling his familiar scent, being in his arms, and listening to her favorite band in the background, almost make the sickness of the event fade away. The medics have taken the distraught woman to a safe place, to mentally clear her at the clinic, before sending her back to Cenril. Gevurah was escorted out by the guards, along with the people’s champ. A few guests still mingled, though for the most part, it was the two of them, swaying in each other’s arms on the dance floor. The whisper draws a faint blush to Lana’s cheeks, and she shakes her head, “You really think so?” The devil horns continue to glisten as she moves her head, and the pitchspork was forsaken when she drew her sword against the drow. Both weapons were missing, and hopefully not being used for nefarious means. There was enough of that this evening! The song slows down, as Nick is growing weary of hitting those high notes, the she-devil was being downright evil and ignoring his slick dance moves and soulful expressions. Lanara was interested in one mummy tonight… And it wasn’t the lead singer of the Backstreet Bards; it was the one who was now introducing himself as Egghead to her sister. “You have been demoted!” This draws laughter from the witch, and if his face wasn’t covered in cloth, she’d have delivered a kiss to his lips. Instead, she stands on her toes and whispers in his ear, her gaze glued to Taly and Krice dancing at their side. Once the whisper is delivered, she winks at Taly, and the couple leaves the ballroom to the two heroes of the night.


Elioyahazer quirks a brow at Lanara's whisper and dons that grin once more. "Good night you two." His words are directed at Krice and Taly, before he feels himself being tugged away. Goodnight indeed.


Krice lowered his arm from Talyara's shoulders and instead followed her onto the dance floor by the link of their hands. The Backstreet Bards, was it? Their music left a lot to be desired. A lot. Music was still music, however, providing a rhythm to which he could lead -his- witch away from the darker thoughts of the evening's unexpected game. As she conversed with her sister, he slipped his right arm around Talyara's body, pressing his palm flat to the small of her back, and drew her own hand up to the strong line of his clavicle, his palm drifting to her elbow thereafter. He held her close but kept his chin above her forehead, expression pleasantly neutral in its watchfulness of their surroundings. Elioyahazer's interaction with Talyara, and Lanara's inevitable accompaniment, did draw the enigma's attention at times; otherwise, his focus was on the woman in his arms, swaying her to the slower song of the bards that she might calm her heart and forget Gevurah's interjection. When Lanara spoke close to Eli with her eyes on her sister and him, Krice watched her with a modicum of inquisitiveness in his own expression, though he afforded the pair a bemused nod when they departed the dance floor.