The masquerade has been ongoing since the club opened, two hours ago, and attendees have reason to be thankful for well-tended air conditioning already -- it isn't as hot as it could be, despite the colourfully whirling swirl of bodies dancing on the floor, lingering on the couches at the sides of the room, or upstairs in the gallery, enjoying a meal or a drink.
The bar to the right of the entrance has no seats, but is always willing to offer guests high-end beverages of their choice (including bottled water), and encouragement/guidance to the spiral stairs in each corner of the room, so they can get up to where the tables are.
Anyone too 'happy' is politely escorted out into the foyer to the seating there, and an employee waits until either a friend arrives to take them home or they call a taxi. No drunken disasters here!
Restrooms, should they be needed, are out in the foyer. Waiters and waitresses circle the gallery for guests' requests, and paid dancers do their job well, keeping the guests out on the floor moving in the correct direction and deliberately seeking out wallflowers to ensure that nobody lacks a partner unless they -want- to lack a partner.
Standing near the bar is Doug, currently wearing an outfit made to look like a fantastical wizard or sorceror, waiting in line at the moment to get a beverage. Looking around the event a moment to take in the cacophany of sounds and the interesting sights. Eventually, he makes his to the front of the line and manages to get himself something strong to start enjoying the party with.
Slinking over to the bar is one of Fallcoast's local politicians - not that anyone would know with her incredibly deceptive costume and mask (all very Bride With White Hair) (http://fallcoast.net/wiki/Talk:Tanya) Tanya smells wonderful, as always, as she grabs a Cranberry Vodka. Queue? As if. With drink in hand, she sashays onto the dancefloor to get her groove on.
Having just arrived, by Limo no less, is both Ambyr and Burns. As they enter the dance floor, arm hooked in arm and faces hidden by their masks he's all smiles. Why not, beautiful woman great party, great drinks what else can a man ask for? He pats her hand, moving towards the bar, his voice low as he asks her what she wants to drink and getting a reply from her, he moves the pair fully towards the bar, hand raised and drinks ordered now he turns and faces the crowd waiting on their drinks!
Fashionably late -- a modestly tall, slim man dressed in a suit under a grey robe, with a wooden half-mask festooned with holly and ivy arrives. He's got a plain, smooth wooden walking-staff in his hand, the end wrapped in fresh mistletoe. He sets off, in search of the punch.
Doug notices Tanya as she makes her way from the bar and gives her a little more attention than most guests he's seen that night. He sips his drink then, setting it down onto the bar before he makes his way towards the dance floor. Hoping to find some enjoyment with the music and the movement of bodies.
Ambyr places her drink order, whiskey straight up, before her back turns to the bar as she reclines partly up against it to watch the people around her. Outside of a glance to the side of her at Burns as well as an emotionless half quirk of her lips the young woman is silent with words, if not with body language and gestures.
On the bright side, he certainly has the crotch-padding in his costume to qualify!
The latest song on the dance floor comes to a close, most of the small orchestra up on the musicians' stage taking a moment for a breather while, sadly, not-David-Bowie begins a very soulful rendition of As The World Falls Down.
The next couple through the door are not really masked, though the black and bright blue jagged stripes of paint make it almost impossible to pick out features. Erik is taller, clad in a chainmail shirt, some of the weight held to his hips with a wide leather belt. Strapped to the tall man's back is a two handed sword, and in place at his waist is a short axe. A tunic is worn under the chainmail and heavy linen pants mostly cover boots.
With Erik is Eydis, moving easily and without armor, though she carries a short sword at her hip, and a wooden shield on her left arm. To her back is a quiver and unstrung bow. Every Enchanted Forest needs hunters, right?
Hawker is making his appearance..dressed in an elaborate silk suit that likely would fit into a French court of old and a leather Opera cloak, and a white mask that covers his eyes. A sword is against his side, peace bound, and looking like it belongs to a Dark Lord of a vampire court. He wasn't ..exactly sure how to do dark fantasy in the woods. He settled for at least looking fancy and belonging out of another time.
Sometimes, monsters can be very, very real. Selias arrives to the masquerade, wearing clothes from an era long ago. Doublet, soft black pants, dress shoes, a mask of a folf that covers half his face. Any exposed skin is covered in thick black hair, the man is dressed like a wolfman. He stands outside, looking over to his left and right, and makes a motion towards the building. While it seems to do nothing, there are some things happening. Only those who can see into the great beyond can truely see. Selias makes his way into the building, past all the people and into the ball...
Burns glances over at Ambyr as the drinks are delivered, taking them both in his hand. Her whiskey gets handed to her, and his Vodka on the rocks gets tilted towards her a little. "Relax and enjoy yourself." He tells Ambyr, "If you want, we can mingle, or go put on a show on the dance floor." He tells her, eyes locked onto her.
Thank goodness he's athletic! Loren arrives, dressed as a classic satyr - furry legs, hooves, horns and shirtless. A plum cloth wraps at his hips, draping to his mid-thigh for modesty. The dancer makes it looks easy, walking on those modified toe-point shoes. He moves into the crowd, moving to the music as he makes his way towards the dancefloor.
Who's that snappily dressed fellow with the walking cane, lingering over there by the bar? He is tall, he is thin, he is dressed in various shades of black: a suit cut in a particularly mid-century style, like he was in mourning while stepping from the pages of Brideshead Revisited. This person is Myles -- only the Abernathy has chosen to hide his face behind a mask: covering half his face, it is a gnarled thing, the texture of mushroom or bone or weather worn bark from some terribly ancient tree. The nose hooks like a bird's beak, and one side has a horn covered in mushrooms - while the other is more like a broken branch. Very folk gothic, that's for sure.
Myles is twirling something in his free hand - not a drink, but a dead thistle tied with a black feather and green ribbon. The ribbon matches the bright, forest green velvet sash with heavy black tassel that he wears, crossing left-to-right over his suit. What does he think he is, minor royalty? Eventually, as more attendees filter through, the Perfectly Ordinary Looking Human Man turns, and starts watching the crowd through the safety of his Mask.
Ambyr takes her whiskey from Burns as a small sip and swallow is taken as she slowly looks around the room with her eyes. Hawker is noticed and starred at for a moment before looking back up at Burns. "I'm fine." Another one of those faint quirking of her lips, "I don't dance, actually. Remember? Could never find anyone." A bit of amusement in her voice at this before Ambyr looks away back out to the room. "But I am sure you could find a willing subject. Many beautiful women here tonight." And men.
So much for the dancing. Tanya sips on her vodka while watching Crotch-Bowie sing his heart out. Though Tanya would happily rip his heart out to stop the performance. At least she can look at all the fancy costumes and be reminded of the good old days...and wonder what the demons who /really/ look like these outfits would think of it all.
In the meantime, the druid has found the punch -- Juniper tastes it, considers it, and raises his eyebrows, before he reaches into the pocket of his suit, and takes out a flask, before he tops up what's in his glass with something the color of the last golden vestiges of the sunrise. He nods, once, and then turns, looking up at the musician, before he purses his lips in thought at something, and then sets off through the crowd, staff in one hand and drink in the other.
Marcos' arrival is well after sundown, and he looks like he doesn't really belong here. The youthful man is clad in emerald robes that flow to his feet. The robe is covered in markings and stitchwork representative of snakes with a mantle covered in an array of black and grey feathers. He walks with a wooden staff covered in symbols similar enough to his robe, and on the head of it is a the short-beaked skull of an owl.
The would-be druid offers his greetings at the door, and soon makes his way to the bar. Whatever he was going to request is soon cut off as the bartender demands some form of identifcation, and initially earns a sneer from Marcos. With that in his way he leans his staff against the countertop while fumbling around in his robes for his wallet.
Burns smiles and nods, taking a small sip from his Vodka, "For now?" He asks himself, "I think I'll stick with you and go from there." He tells her, eyes going over the crowd to see if he can spot anyone out of the crowd. Nope, though that's not that shocking with everything considered. "Well, see anyone you want to mingle and talk to?" He asks her, catching her stare at someone for a moment, "Or just some nice candy?" He asks.
Hawker is going to make his way around the perimeter of the crowd, trying to see who is coming as well. Maybe he should have came as a Monster. It wouldn't have hurt, but that would have required far more work then he had intended to do on short notice. Ambyr gets a nod of his head, she is some one he knows, and then his eyes keep sweeping. There is no multi coloured mohawk..no Rictus!?
This would be the first time, for a very long time, that Apis had even considered going to an event of this size and popularity. He was introverted, and he had many reasons to avoid crowds, yet, with a friends wise words and teachings, he knew that now was the time to get out there, and so, with a slightly weary sigh, even though the night had just begun, Apis stepped through the front door.
As always, the smell hit him before the sights and sound. Alcohol and sweat. What a wonderful combination. Slowly, he made his way through the crowds that gathered, avoiding the dance floor, and instead b-lining for the bar. No seats. Even better. The pale brit rubbed his forehead, ordering a bloody mary, before glancing over his shoulder to survey the more interesting faces in the crowd.
Ambyr gives a noticeable rolling of her eyes to Burns' words about 'nice candy', "Only if it's crystalized." Another smirk of amusement that just doesn't quite reach her eyes before she gives a dismissive wave toward Hawker, "I work at this shop a couple days a week. I don't actually know him, though." A turning of her form to put her side to the bar as Ambyr faces Burns instead of the crowd. Giving him more of her direct attention that people on dates are supposed to be doing. "You look nice tonight. Very... I don't know. Nice." Another sip of her whiskey and a swallow.
Descending from those stairs after they pass, Fernanda waits for a crowd of university students -- and their drinks -- to climb past her before descending the final flight of the square spiral nearest the bar, coming down from the gallery. She does not, however, head toward the dance floor, seeing as faux-Bowie has retired to play the piano for a dark and slinky tango, other instruments stepping up to play along with him. Glittering in deep sanguine satin, the No This Is Totally A Costume I'm Not REALLY A Blood Sorceress spies Eydis and Erik by the door and purposefully drifts in their direction, smiling to guests and, eventually, smiling to the pair of vikings as well. "Ah, how lovely of you to come, Mr. Turgard, Miss Myrgjol. You are supposed to be masked..." The last is a chiding, but amused.
A girl dressed all in filmy white with glittery 'antlers' at the temples of her mask, a white hind, giggles as she wriggles through the crowd, chased by a rather sinister fellow dressed all in black, the pair soon disappearing up one of the spiral stairs.
The Satyr gets to the dancefloor, already full in the dance by the time he arrives. It's clear that Loren has a passion for dancing, and thankfully, the skill to back it up. He dances with the various guests, always looking to make sure that no one is without a parter if they are looking for one.
At the bar, Myles is given a drink - possibly an old fashioned, by the looks of things. The thistle, raven's feather and ribbon is stuck to the buttonhole in his lapel, and Mules starts to turn and step a few paces down the bar: his gestures slow and deliberate, as he leans heavily on his cane - the man is graceful, but he is obviously struggling when it comes to locomotion. Chances of him dancing? Slim to none.
Chances of Myles socially interacting with strangers? High. Spotting Marcos and his resplendent green robes, sneering at the barman and fumbling for his wallet, Myles watches him for a few moments - then a hazy, vague smile makes the smallest impression on his lips. Is he even really smiling?
"Snakes." Myles says to Marcos. "Have you been to Hanging Hills lately? We're always looking for a glossolalist to parse out the sign of the times." Then two moments of what is most certainly pure hisses and nonsense is babbled, before Myles takes a sip of that old fashioned and nods in Marcos' direction, as if he'd understand perfectly.
Doug is somewhere on the dance floor. Who is to say where exactly? Not that it matters. He seems to be throoughly enjoying himself for the moment.
Burns glances over towards Hawker, raising an eyebrow taking in his height, jeez. "Ah, okay." He says, facing her now fully as she addresses his looks. "Well, I try to clean up nice and when playing the devil, you gotta look good." He winks through the mask. "You look beautiful as always, Ambyr, why don't we go over and say hi to your boss and get to know him a little?" He asks of Ambyr, a glance towards the musicians going on and a slight chuckle.
The room is given a long look as the viking looks to his shield-maiden and then back to the ball as a whole. A smile splits his painted face as he watches Fernanda approach, the blood sorceress getting a polite bow in greeting. "Evening," Erik says simply in response before adding, "This is very well done. Congratulations." The smile turns to a grin as he let's Eydis speak with Fern while he eyes the room once more.
Draining her drink, Tanya wanders over to the bar and orders another. While there, she looks over Burns with a bemused look. "You need a slightly brighter shade of red on the nose" she advises him about his Devil costume before, new drink in hand, she roams the room looking for the hostess.
Hawker him self eventually arrives at the bar, he does need a drink after all, a Mojito infact, is in order. It's always good to have a Mojito, and he looks vaguely interested in what the barstaff use. Like he's judging them as a fellow slinger of the adult beverages.
Hawker him self eventually arrives at the bar, he does need a drink after all, a Mojito infact, is in order. It's always good to have a Mojito, and he looks vaguely interested in what the barstaff use. Like he's judging them as a fellow slinger of the adult beverages.
Ambyr gives a very slow blink to Burn's words about them going over to meet Hawker as if the request doesn't quite compute in her head. It may not. After a thirty-five second delay she finally gives a half-shrug of her bare shoulder to his suggestion. "Sure." Her glass of whiskey in one hand, and her other lacing fingers with Burns' hand she pulls her 'date' a few steps down the length of the bar toward Hawker, "Hey," she speaks in greeting to Hawker. "My friend wanted to talk to you." Because it was Burns' idea. Not hers.
The hostess is conveniently located not too far from the bar. Unfortunately, she doesn't have a sign on her which says 'I'm the hostess!' Fernanda laughs at Erik's reply, dipping her head in gracious acknowledgement of the compliment before assuring Eydis, "A masquerade is a dance where everyone is masked, concealing their identity for the fun of it. Forbidden lovers meet at the ball, none the wiser... though in our case, it's more predator and prey hunting and being hunted in the dark, enchanted forest." A pale hand lifts, rings -- appropriately blood-coloured, of course -- glittering as she indicates an employee off to the left of the entrance manning tables full of masks for purchase or rental.
Apis pushed away from the bar reluctantly, wandering into the crowd, drink clutched in hand like it was his only anchor to sanity. There were a few things he was looking for. Someone interesting to talk to, someone even more interesting to watch, maybe even a dance partner. Unfortunately, even with a mask to protect his identity, he was a paranoid introvert. His lips were dry and his brow was hot under the ceramic of his mask. What had he really gotten himself into. He didn't feel in control, and that was all he ever wanted.
The musicians on stage continue their dark and dramatic tango, several dancers out on the floor more comedic than sensual, but they get at least a B+ for effort.
Loren continues his dance, body fully engaged with the music and whichever partner seeks him out. The Satyr seems tireless tonight, well, at least during this song. It's clear he enjoys what he does, the smile never leaving his face.
"I've been to more than I care to admit." Kaleina states as she practically materializes out of no where next to Fernanda and Eydis. Despite her impressive regalia for the night, she had managed to blend in seamlessly with the others. "A mask may hide your face, but sometimes you can still tell who is who." She sips at a drink of some sort, or at least makes it seem like she is.
Erik turns his icy gaze back to their hostess and smiles as she speaks. One dark brow lifts as speaks of forbidden lovers, his gaze going to Eydis to say something in their ancient tongue. There is a smile following whatever it was that was said but the large man doesn't take the time to explain what was discussed. "We'll get masks as its the right thing to do. As for the forbidden lovers, this is why I've brought an ax." A wink follows those words and any that would follow are halted as Kaleina arrives from seemingly no where. A smile is given to the woman as he says, "Hello, we've not met. I'm Erik."
"Is that a thing at parties? That everyone just... " Eydis makes a crude motion that can only be a sexual reference. "with everyone else?" She glances to Erik, brows furrowing. "Then it is good that we came without masks, if masks means we want to fuck people we don't know. Worse than the unwed at Beltaine." she grouses, nudging Erik in with ribs with an elbow, not minding the chainmail he's wearing. Sort of 'don't think it' nudge and look. Someone's territorial.
Dulce usually doesn't attend public parties, but a Masquerade ball helps her to hide her identity and so she's ventured out to enjoy the high life. No doubt she's not the first to have been inspired by little red riding hood for her choice of costume. Her choice of material might be a little different, consisting of red latex from the mid-thigh length skirt and the red riding hood, as well as black stockings and a white form fitting blouse made from the same material. With the hood up, covering her hair and the upper part of her face concealed behind a butterfly inspired mask, she makes her way into the room carrying herself regally.
When Erik introduces himself to her, Kaleina turns and focuses her single-eyed gaze upon him and he would likely catch her rather overwhelming and ominous sense of foreboding. Her head tips just slightly in greeting. " A pleasure, I imagine. And I do suspect, my dear, that that is not exactly what the mask means but... let's go with that." She chuckles softly.
Burns fingers wrap around Ambyrs hand as hers does his, and he gives her hand a squeeze as they approach Hawker. There is a laugh, at the way he is introduced, and at the way he was being dragged into the conversation. Letting go of Ambyrs hand, he shifts his drink to that hand, extending his hand to the man, and looking up at him. "How do you do," He says, "Name is Cole."
Hawker gives a bit of a raised eyebrow at Ambyr's words. "What, don't like talking to the boss at parties?" He teases her before looking at Burns, observing. "People call me Hawker." Mostly they only call him Hawker, seems folk have an aversion to his first name! "I don't think Ambyr wants to hang out with the boss."
Myles bobs his head in a slow nod as Marcos replies to him - all but ignoring his drink now, as he watches the green-robed man. His answer about Fallcoast being confusing? Merely a dreamy smile; his eyes half-masked by that half-mask. No interruptions -- as Marcos deals with the barman, Myles just, uh... Just watches him.
Is it unnerving?
Myles seems perfectly comfortable. So calm. So composed. "Outlawed is such a strange concept. Do we publicly hang people any more? No, mm, not /officially/." A hazy nod, a dreamy smile, and Myles chatters on - how accent 100% local, old-time Maine. "But we don't hire children to dangle from the legs of the condemned to quicken their descent into Hades any longer - so... It's out of fashion, at least." He doesn't blink. He does, however, keep watching Marcos. "What've you been, mm, wrong about lately? Cast off the yoke of your burdens, my good man."
A raised arm catches her eye past the mask table, an employee trying to signal her through the crowd, and she steps away with a light, "Your pardon; duty calls. Please, mingle, enjoy yourselves. There's a fine mead at the bar, and several varieties of ales, wines, other liquors and liqueurs..." The sorceress flashes the trio a smile and moves off into the crowd toward the gentleman by the stairs.
Amused, Fernanda murmurs a demure, "Not at -every- party..." in response to Eydis' crude sexual reference, cornflower eyes all the brighter in comparison to their unusually dark eyeliner. Glancing aside when Kaleina makes her dramatic appearance, the Totally A Living Human Woman Not A Mekhet smiles politely in reply, dipping her head in welcome. "Ms. Mhairi."
Isrieal arrives fashionably late. Of course. She's in a long black dress with a sheer fabric over the dark skirts that glitters with each movement like some celestial night sky. The silky dress is cross laced up her back and cinched at her waist. Her moonwhite hair is down in elegant curls, a beaked crow mask upon her face, for now. Whatever skin is exposed is traced with black vines climbing along her, drawn on like tattoos of course. Her lips a deep red, her eyes seen beneath the mask seem to be heavily made up with black makeup that wings out and glitter like some dark fae that she truly 'isnt'.
Burns nods, "Oh I am sure most don't like that," He says, smiling at Hawker through that devil mask. "Well, I just wanted to make sure we stopped by and said hey and introduced ourselves. Wouldn't want to be rude." He tells Hawker, hand bringing the drink up to his mouth and taking a small sip of it, "And of course, one of the few people either of us know, me being back in town recently, well since High School."
Eydis mutters something in their shared, old language to Erik, giving him a look. Norm or not, someone's getting a pre-emptive cautionary reaming from the shorter, feisty ghoul. Unless he's hungry. Grabbing a to-go juicebox is /different/. Watching Fernanda go and listening to Erik's reply, the ghoul grins at Kaleina. "Then I will always go to parties without a mask." she says to the woman, "I've removed body parts for less than trying to grab my ass." Such a buzzkill.
Juniper finishes what he's doing, and drains his glass. He shrugs his shoulders, and moves to find somewhere out of the way, to lean against his walking-staff and watch the whirl of dancers.
"Anonymous sex with everyone at the party? Where do I sign up?" smiles Charlize as the Daeva slinks in from behind the Viking twins. "Love that look" grins the hippy. "Almost reminds me I should have worn more clothes...if I was boring!" A wink to the pair as she looks around the room. "I don't see any sex yet. Is it upstairs?" The vampire is dressed in something that could be a dress or just flowers stuck on, her ears and eyes done with make-up...promise...and a greenery mask. (http://fallcoast.net/wiki/File:CharlizeMasq.jpg)
After another second of searching Marcos eventually comes up with a rather simple mask. A green, fanged mask colored the same as his robess with a gilded trim. "That depends on how much time you have, friend. For now we can settle on the location of this establishment, and my annoyance when I went two streets over. I do suppose Pop's Pizza had a good laugh at my confusion." Marcos doesn't sound as pleased as he grunts. "If people still perhaps hang others, unofficially of course, to what crime are they due for such a punishment?"
Ambyr takes a nice, healthy sip of that whiskey before it's set on the bar before her arms fold upon it. Putting her back to the world as Hawker and Burns make introductions. "I don't mind talking to you, during a social function. We don't work together. I just work for you." A faint quirking of Ambyr's lips at this to Hawker before her green eyes look up at Burns. "Don't worry." Worry about what, Ambyr doesn't specifically say. May be because she's too busy taking another sip and swallow of the whiskey.
Slowly Dulce makes her way around the room, smiling brightly to herself. She's taking the time to inspect and enjoy the thought put into the preperation of the room, and she looks quite thoughtful for a few moments. She softly starts to make her way over towards the bar. She raises her hand up to make certain her hood hasn't slid back at all. She orders one of the meads and takes a sip of the sweet drink, and purses her lips thoughtfully at the taste.
Kaleina holds up her hand and looks at it sadly. "And here, I was just looking at making a quick pass at your ass." She lowers it down. "Alas, I shall suffer further, without your ass." She makes some sort of distressed sound, but then Charlize shows up. As soon as she 'butts in' Kaleina gives her a look. "Haven't noticed any."
Hawker is nursing his mojito; already contemplating how to modify it for his next round as he and burns converse. "I am fairly certain I barely know any one here. Though I might know one of the girls who came in." Izzy is Izzy, and he's sort of watching her. Last time he saw her in a large social event, things got..wonky. "Do you know the Host?" He suddenly asks them both. "Ambyr probably loves her job, but won't tell us so."
Charlize checks out Eydis' ass at Kaleina's words. "It is a nice one, but don't worry. There is plenty of ass in the room." She gives Kaleina a hug...whether she wants one or not. "I'm...not supposed to tell you who I am. You can call me the Spirit of the Woods...probably a double whiskey. Love your outfit."
Eydis slowly blinks between Kaleina and Charlize, then turns in a circle, trying to see her ass. The pants and the tunic ought to have covered it, with the unstrung bow providing more cover. It's probably cute in the sense of watching a dog chase it's tail before giving up. "It's Erik's ass." She says, jerking her head to her regant-slash-mate. "And I don't think he'd be keen on sharing."
Isrieal strolls in slowly through the crowds. Anyway near enough to her may feel the intimidating presence that seems to radiate from her naturally. She's just like that. Black roses are also twisted throughout that white hair of hers within a few braids that wrap the sides of her head while the rest flows into curls. She's looking for anyone familiar, or perhaps plotting to stir shit up. Never know with her really. She just smirks to herself for the moment.
As soon as Charlize hugs Kaleina, she'd realize it was a very, very big mistake. The feeling she gets is... well... not good. "Do not touch me without my consent." She states flatly, though its the sort of stating that one might... well... might not survive if they do so again.
Burns glances to Ambyr, his hand once again slips into hers. "Oh I think she does," He says, looking over at Ambyr wanting to say something else but biting his lower lip. "And no," He says, looking back to Hawker, "I only got on the invitation I'm sure because one of the workers saw a so called celebrity come back into town and said hah! let's invite him." He tells the man. "Football, American." He clarifies.
Ambyr does something so sweet, and totally not Ambyr. She lifts Burns' hand via their threaded fingers to her mouth as she gives a single peck to the knuckle of his middle finger. "You also help save lives. Don't forget that part of your life." His hand is lowered back down as one of those not-so-smiles smiles forms on her lips before it's gone a moment later. Her eye4s settle on Hawker now, "You're the only one here I know besides this one. I think. Hazy world."
Hawker continues to watch Izzy, even as he speaks to the two by him. "Ahh ..hand egg. Funny how we call it football, and no one else does. I'm not even sure why they let me in. I have no ties to this crowd, I am..fairly sure." He doesn't think he does!
"I have an, mm, indefinite amount of time." Myles replies to Marcos; the ice in his ignored drink clinking as he watches the man behind the fanged mask. "What is two streets over, that would cause annoyance? I do not... Eat Pizza." A beat. "It's not something found in the depths of the darkest, deepest forests."
"I am all forests."
That has to be a joke from Myles, right? That hazy, dreamy smile of his persists - although it's hard to pin down on if Myles /is/ joking or not, since he delivers all his words with the same airy, slow, old-time Maine local tone as he chats with Marcos at the bar. "Retributive justice is not my area of expertise - although traitors, slavers, oath-breakers, bandits, murderers, abductors, abusers, arsonists, regicides and repeat trespassers would be eligible candidates."
Dulce takes another sip from her drink, and casually chats with the bartender for a few moments. She doesn't chat with them too long, before she offers a little dip of her head and moves back away from the bar. She considers Charlize's costume from a distance, and she tilts her head to the side as she continues onwards. So many costumes, so many to enjoy looking at.
Charlize does not look well as she frowns at the buzzkill known as Kaleina, stepping back a little...and looking hungry. "Wow. Way to kill the night" she pouts at the other vampire. "I don't think you've very nice" she grumbles before heading off to find folk that are more fun. It is a party, right?
Isrieals piercing blue gaze suddenly snaps over to Hawker whose been staring at her, you can almost hear the chord strike in the air. She slowly heads over towards him, swaying like the shadows. "Can I help you?" She asks in that Russian accent of hers. A whispery tone. She briefly glances to the others around him.
It's been a few songs, Loren needs water! He heads towards the bar, clip-clopping along in his satyr outfit. Soon enough he's found a spot there, tapping at the bar while he waits for his turn to order.
Burns looks at Ambyr for a moment, a warm smile coming over him as she kisses his hand, "True," He tells her, "But to many not so much." But back to Hawker, "Long time since I've heard it refered to hand egg." He's got a grin on his lips, "That's because they're uncivilized and don't know real sports if it hit them in the head. Cricket, really?" His eyes twinkle almost as he tells that little joke. "Well, if you want to mingle and find someone to... spend time with, don't let us keep you, have fun and be marry for tomorrow we must go back got work." He teases. When Isrieal approaches, he takes a step to the side, in a way, making sure to cover Ambyr in case something happened. He may not be a physical guy, but he is still a man and has his instincts.
Even if not meant in jest Myles' response elicits a bubbling of laughter from Marcos until he realizes the other man isn't joking. "I am afraid I am not all forests, and rather love what the city has to provide. However, it sounds as if the trees here receive active use if those are the things you all watch for. Reprobates are a common enough entity everywhere, I suppose. "
Kaleina watches Charlize go. She was about to say she needn't do so, but she'd figure that out later. Its an anonymous party for most, and though she'd be hard to recognize outside of her masquerade, she could find Charlize again later. "Anyway..." She turns back to Eydis and Erik. "I'll leave you two to your own devices." And then she is back into the crowd.
"Cute." But Ambyr's voice doesn't really make it cute sounding at all. When Burns steps infront of her she slides out behind him and just gives a small tug to his hand. "I hear there's a gallery upstairs. I think. Do you want to mingle with some more people, or go somewhere more quiet?" A small curving of her lips upward at this before it falls from her face. Seems like she's fine leaving Hawker to the other approaching female.
In a shift of tempo, though equally dark, the musicians strike up a languorous waltz, lulling the prey for the hunters, a thread of musical 'danger' occasionally woven in with minor chords and rushes of violins.
"No. Of course you are not -- mm, the cut of your robe, the snake emblems and feathers, that suggests you are merely an animist priest who is permitted to walk the paths afforded to you." Myles quips back at Marcos, leaning heavily on his own walking stick as he swirls ice around in that cocktail glass. /IS/ he joking? That -is- a hazy, dreamy smile on his face. "Pray tell; besides walking the city, mm, making judgements on which trees and what not, what is it that you... Engage with?"
Myles continues to stare. Is it a trick of that mask which makes it seem like he hardly never blinks? "What drives you to survive?"
Dulce does watch Charlize move away from the other woman, and she purses her lips. Little latex riding hood does make her way towards the woman covered in flowers, even though she doesn't know her. A soft smile plays on her lips as she approaches. "Excuse me," she offers in an educated Portuguese accent. "I think that your costume is amazing. How long did it take to put together?"
Isrieal chuckles to herself as she watches Burns slide to the defense of Ambyr. "Yes, yes I have." She responds with a grin. Maybe she's just really in character. But its the fear of what she may or may not do that she truly likes to feed from. She tips her head at Burns then. "Don't be afraid...or do, it is such a wonderful feeling." She whispers.
Charlize turns as she is talked to by Dulce. "Why, thank you" she smiles about her outfit. "It's just something I threw on. Like...literally. Careful, Little Red Riding Hood, don't I look wolfie?" she winks. "I might have to blow your house down if you're not careful. Love the latex too." She notices the Vikings leave and gives them a wave before looking back to Dulce. "Do you dance?"
Burns looks between the two, and then back at Ambyr for a moment a smile forming. "Let's go upstairs and see about getting some quiet and see what trouble is up there." He turns towards Hawker and Isrieal, but Isrieals whisper sends a shiver up his spine for some reason, he isn't certain how or why. "If you will excuse us, I think we're going to mingle some more." With his hand still in Ambyrs, he slowly and carefully starts to work their way through the crowd.
Marcos was nodding along as Myles spoke of his outfit. He was opening his mouth to answer the other man's first question, but the second gives him pause. He shuts his lips then, gaze drifting around the room momentarilly. When his attention falls back on Myles he sighs. "I engage, if you will, with books. I own a business that sells them, own a rather large collection myself, and am currently reading several books when I have the time and energy. I do have other hobbies, but they are often secondary to literature. As for your second question-" He pauses, offering a ghost of a smile that departs as quickly as it appears. "I simply believe in His will, and do what I believe is required of me on this earth. What of you, sir?"
Dulce smiles brightly at the comment about her house being blown down, and then the compliment. "Si, thank you," she offers. "I was going to wear something else, but I have trouble with doors wearing it and walking backwards." She offers a nod of her head. "You certainly do look wolfie. If that is what you just threw one, I'd love to see what you can do when you prepare." At the talk of dancing, she offers a nod. "Si, I will try my best to dance."
Ambyr doesn't seem as effected by Isrieal's whispers as Burns it, perhaps because she's... she. That, and her attention is across the room toward the direction they need to head. "Hmmmm? Yes. Let's go." Hawker gets a small nod of her head, "I'll be around tomorrow night at the shop." And then she's moving with Burns as her hand remains slipped into his own. "Where have your thoughts been these past few days and nights?" Up she looks at her male companion then away. "I know where mine have been."
Hawker inclines his head to Ambyr and her date as they move off, not wanting to keep them from their possibly passionate encounter upstairs..sides you never ignore Izzy! "Try not to eat my employee..her boyfriend is probably fair game." he teases Izzy..or he might be serious!
"You have trouble walking through doors and walking backwards in your other outfit? Color me intrigued" Charlize grins. "I don't really prepare anything. If the mood hits me then I do something, you know? Just go with the flow of the universe. And the music." She takes Dulce's hand and leads her into the dancefloor crowd. "Dance as if no one is watching" she advises the young woman. "Though that can get you in trouble in some states."
Burns lets out a small laugh, as he looks over at Ambyr, "About the same place, I'd imagine." He tells her as they approach the stairs, "I'm sure I'll have a chance to show you before the nights over where they've been." He tells her, and with a glance back over the crowd, he guides the pair up the stairs.
Water is on the menu for the dancer. Loren nods in thanks to the bartender, turning to rest his back against the bar. From here, he can watch the dancefloor - keeping his eyes on the various dancers.
The musicians bring the slower waltz to a close with a sinister wailing of instruments...then jolt the crowd into a faster-paced Viennese waltz, long sweeping steps, dramatic poses, twirlies and all. Very technical term, twirlies.
"Books you say? How, mm, fortuitous -- my favourite nephew manages my bookstore in town; it is called..." Myles fades out, and just... Adds no more to that reply to Marcos. Instead he stares off into space for a few good, long moments - then lifts the old fashioned to his lips, and takes a sip.
...has Myles completely zoned out?
Sudden jerk, and Myles turns to look at Marcos again - hazy, dreamy, vague - and /yet/... "His Will? A phantom then - there is nothing, no - but the spin of Fates, dictated by committee headed through the struggle between order and chaos."
Uh on. Myles sounds like he's ready for A Discussion.
Waltz! The Daeva hippie does her best but the waltz is not one of Charlize's best. The mashed potato however... "Always like hoops. You can hide so much under there. Yes, I'm very impulsive. Isn't that what life is all about? Each beat of the heart is something new. I guess we speed up now." THe music suggests so.
Isrieal tips her head in thought as she watches Hawker. "Hm..though I haven't hunted you yet..maybe you would be a challenge." She offers with a chuckle to herself. "Though...how easy it would be to just send them all running right now." She smirks. "Though I wouldn't do that, as tempting as it is." She sighs some.
Dulce has a passing familiarity with the traditional dances. most likely from her upbringing and schooling. "What do you hide under hoops?" she asks in both amusement and confusion. "Now you've got me curious." She offers a bright smile as she listens to the hippie, considering what she's saying. "I am always about new experience and things. Exploring and doing stuff I never thought of." With the music speeding up, she frowns and then offers a nod of her head. "We could, if you want to lead," she suggests playfully.
Hawker wiggles a finger at Izzy when she mentions -that- outcome. "I do not think that is a good idea. I know at least one here is not a human. You should behave, enjoy a drink, maybe find some young adoring man to dance with you."
"What do I hide under hoops? Me" Charlize winks. "I'll try and lead but the last time I did a waltz was...gosh...Uncle Vinny's wedding? I think that was the one interrupted by the Palucci family's hit squad." A long sigh. "Happy days." They do their best to dance and, thankfully, they're both pretty good movers. Though maybe Charlize throwing in the Batusi every now and then would get them low marks in a competition. "I'm a bit peckish. Want a bite to eat?"
Marcos' brow quirks at Myles response, and the other brow soon follows it up when he stares off for a moment. "Right. I presume you and I may be in competition, although I sell any and all books. As of late Victorian romance novels and teenage adventures have been the most popular. To the former, I even find myself interested from time to time." He shakes his head as something inside his robes begin to vibrate. He sets his glass down upon the counter without having taking a single sip of his water as he goes about searching once more. "Order and chaos. I do enjoy a measure of both, and see their benefits on this mortal coil. Do you not ag-" He stops when he finally comes up with a phone, and glares at whatever he's reading. "My apologies, but there's been a fire in our occult section and the criminal is being apprehend as we speak." With his other hand he sets a business card on the counter that reads "No Shelf Awareness" flanked with two pictures of books, and an address on the bottom. "I'm afraid I have to leave for now, but if you ever wish to continue this conversation please call me at your convenience." With that said Marcos bows his head as before, and makes for the exit.
Isrieal squints her eyes at Hawker. "Don't test me on that one, I've terrified plenty of 'non-humans'. I have to eat too you know." She tells him but then she's off looking for those drinks he mentioned. "Now, where are these drinks?" She wonders while looking around, perhaps a Moscow Mule would do.
Hawker taps the bar top when Izzy asks where the drinks are. "It's a bar Izzy, you just order things, then make some poor sucker you don't know pay for them probably. Other then me, I am not a poor sucker." He says with a wink and watches the dancing floor it self. "I should have come as Solomon Kane."
Dulce blinks a couple of times in surprise by Charlize talking about hit squads, but she doesn't ask. Nope! It makes her go quite for a few moments, and then laugh for some reason. She matches Charlize's movements, though she does actually titter when she throws in the Batusi, and doesn't seem certain what to do. Thanks to her clothing, she's sweating faintly. When the dance is finished, she gives the other woman a quick hug. "Thank you for the dance." At the offer of food, she tilts her head to the side. "Oh, I've eaten, but I'll go with you and keep you company," she then offers cheerfully.
Loren takes his leave, heading out towards the staff exit - making his way back to the dressing rooms to change into his normal clothes before heading out into the night.
Myles bobs his head to Marcos' as the soon-to-be departed fellow speaks to him; sipping at his old fashioned, following along with a polite yet hazy expression. It's not until Marcos mentions fire in the occult section that the Abernathy man looks...
...well Myles looks shocked?
The man looks... Well whatever Myles looks, he does it -slowly-, turning to peer down at the business card on the bar. By the time he looks back up, Marcos has gone.
Myles turns, checks his wristwatch, and starts mumbling to himself. "...P.M., February twenty-third, two-thousand-and-eighteen; City of Fallcoast, Maine, Earth." Little reality check, Mr. Abernathy?
Isrieal pauses at the bar to order a drink. "I think I can afford a drink, Hawker." She quips and pays for her own of course. She lifts to her lips for a sip and faces the crowd, scouring once more. Oh hey theres a Myles! And. Her eyes squint some. Charlize. She lifts a brow. "Interesting..." She mumbles to herself. She glances to Hawker but then starts to trail towards Myles.
Hawker is watching Izzy move off...the night could get very interesting. "Happy Hunting Izzy. Maybe you'll find some old gray haired scientist yet." He calls out to her, with an audible snicker.
"I'm sure you'll be more than company" Charlize purrs to Dulce. "I think they're feeding upstairs, or we can go somewhere more private if you like." She makes her way off the dancefloor with Dulce in tow, confident that no one could recognize her...d'oh!
Dulce smiles to Charlize, though she does give her a strange look at the comment about 'feeding upstairs'. "Why would we need somewhere more private for you to get something to eat?" she asks innocently. She does trail along after Charlize and leaves the dance floor. "If they are having food upstairs, then maybe we should join them?" It seems that she's willing to be led upstairs. "Unless you want to eat somewhere private?"
At the bar, Myles suddenly stands up a little straighter -- leaning on his cane, sure; but that hazy focus of his drifts up towards the shiny lights and reflective surfaces of the bar setup: so bright, so vivid. The horned and beaked half-mask he wears -- with a gnarled texture like ageing mushroom or bone or worn tree bark - keeps his expression half-hid, but his lips compress into a wide, tight smile.
"What shadow of some great power unseen shifts, darkening the arena with its great and terrible beauty?" Myles calls out -- to... Nobody? And yet Isrieal is approaching from behind - how curious.
"Upstairs it is. I'm sure the hostess with the mostess has some private booths if we need them" Charlize assures her new friend as they head upstairs. "I do want to say 'hello' to her too but with all these masks...don't we unveil at midnight?"
"Hawker, it doesnt always have to be a scientist." She quips. This time its a grey haired accountant. Isrieal grins at Myles statement he speaks as she arrives from behind to her fellow beaked mask wearer. "It is the shadow of love long lost and terror in the night, come to check upon the one who knows all mysteries..." She responds. "Are you getting anything from this?" She wonders. Glamour wise maybe.
The music shifts again, this time straight to an energetic cha cha cha, hunters cha-cha-chasing their prey across the dance floor.
"How lucky I am, to have such a terrible shadow by my back." Myles replies - then finally he turns; leaning heavily on that cane as he hobbles around to face Isrieal. For someone who /appears/ so young - his early thirties at most - Myles moves like a very, very old man: good posture, bad joints. Doesn't keep him from giving Isrieal a once-over, like he were a elderly uncle seeing how tall his niece has grown. "I hear you did quite well for yourself, before Winter set in. Congratulations - you have my apologies; my absence was... A necessary evil."
Myles smiles tightly - then suddenly, that hazy, dreamy, idle expression vanishes: replaced with as sour, bitter look as he glances around the room as the tempo gets upbeat and people go all cha-cha-cheerful. How sharp he is! "No. Nothing. How fare you?"
Isrieal chuckles to herself. "No apologies needed. I've been doing well for myself on many ends lately. What is good for me at least." She's very still as the cha-cha music starts up and she raises her hand to pinch her thumb to her finger. "Maybe a smidge, but only when I get close enough to people. They're just having too much fun really." She says with a bit of a sigh. "That isn't my thing, well, at least not this type of fun." She tips her head back to Burns as he descends the stairs. "He seemed fairly promising though..." She muses. "Ah, well..."
"Sounds good." And so Ambyr and Burns return from the balcony and appear as if their brief detour upstairs has resulted in them now wanting to take their leave. "Were it not in the thirties outside, I would say we should walk home." A smirk to her lips as she looks up at her date for a moment then away. "But yes. A limo is wise."
Burns nods, "Yeah," He says sending a text message to the driver and with a tone of a text message coming in, slides the phone back into his pocket. "Especially in that dress." He says, making their way to the front door. "I'd have to somehow keep you warm." A little grin. "And he'll be outside waiting by the time we hit the door."
"Mm." Myles agrees to Isrieal, at the mention of 'good for me'. Because what /is/ good, anyway? The old fashioned is sipped at - on small, civilised sip - then the Abernathy fellow takes in a deep sigh as he turns and looks at Burns and Ambyr making their tech-savvy departure. A strange, aloof sort of gloom seems to have enveloped the man - like that hazy dreamy aspect did earlier. "I'm getting too, mm, old for these things." Myles laments to Issy, bobbing his head slowly. "Where is the risk of fire or stampede? Where are the young women, uncertain about their status - avoiding the stares of young man who'll never be gentlemen, and are anxious to prove themselves? You know, I haven't seen a single person wearing a hat." Spat out bitterly - like Myles is insulted.
Ambyr gives a smirk to Burns at his words before her eyes move around the room. If Hawker is still around, Ambyr will give a brief wave to him before her and Burns take their leave for the evening. To have perhaps, a private after party of their own.
Isrieal quietly watches them leave then looks back to Myles. "Perhaps they have the right idea really. I feel like this sort of thing is better for...Springs or something like that." She says with a wave of her hand. "I'll probably just find someone leaving to follow out, drunk and not quite sure what terrifying monster they'll end up seeing in the ally beside them." She says with a smirk. "Last time I wore a hat I got called a nazi so I think I'm done trying to play around with those." She tells him.
"Butterflies will always, mm, pollinate to propagate their social causes for spring - but like the blooms they brush up against, the moment is, mm, fleeting and the depth is minimal." Myles chimes to Isrieal and clears his throat, then pushes his mask up closer against his face - ooph, those aren't glasses, Myles! Hard to remember that... The old fashioned is sipped, an he glances around - no shrug, no nothing. Just watching the room. "...Well you shouldn't wear, mm, a SS uniform hat if-- oh, damn this all to hell."
Myles jerks suddenly, leaning awkwardly on his cane -- and the glass of old fashioned goes tumbling.
Tanya has been quietly propping up the bar or holding down the dancefloor all evening...and she still hasn't found the hostess. That woman at the bar, the one dressed like the SS, isn't she some business woman of note? A councilwoman like Tanya makes sure she knows everyone who can help her...help the town.
The older of the two bartenders, a salt-and-pepper man named Jim, finishes with another customer before ambling over toward Myles...and not so subtly evaluating whether or not the man seems drunk. "Everything alright, sir?"
Isrieal sighs, would roll her eyes if she had any. "Well some of us weren't exactly around during that time period to know what that meant really." She grumbles and then watches as Myles drink goes tumbling to the floor. She steps aside from the glass and catches the eye of a man in a pure black suit with a simple mask over his eyes. "Will you clean that?" She asks. Devotees. He's quick to get the glass out of the way and a few paper towels tossed down.
She eyes Jim as he comes over to check and grins. "Oh, perfectly fine." She purrs with that eerieness.
Myles, post-glass breaking, looks only moderately ruffled: shaking as she leans his unsubstantial weight on that cane of his; quivering only slightly. He's not scared, is he?
"No!" Myles sounds crabby-- although his reply to Isrieal may inadvertantly be misread by Jim. Oh what a pickle. He turns to the barkeep and ahems quietly - clearing his throat, smoothing down his suit jacket with a jittery hand. "Yes." Much calmer voice - so honeyed. "Apologies, a peculiarity."
Is he really apologetic? Myles is turning -- suddenly startled by the apparition of Isrieal's assistant in pure black. If Myles blinks, it's hidden by the mask. There is an -air- around him, though, of being... Is he offended, or embarrassed? So hazy, so dreamy, so hard to tell...
"What is that?" Myles says to Isrieal, like he's not sure what 'a helpful human being wearing black, cleaning up after your mess' is.
Jim gives Isrieal a bored look and a raised brow, and informs Myles, "I'll add the glass to your tab," before reaching back to hand over towels for the woman's assistant to use. At no point will the devotee be permitted behind the bar.
When she reaches the bar, some few minutes after The Glass Incident, Jim ambles over to have a quiet word, tipping his head toward Myles and Isrieal and handing Fernanda a clipboard with a few printouts on it. Spreadsheets?
Fernanda steps out from behind the musicians' stage, speaking with an elderly gentleman wearing the robes and hat of a chef. The music is far too loud to hear their conversation, and the dancers on the floor obscure the majority of what they are doing from anyone at the bar, but eventually, the pair splits off, the chef to return to the kitchens, Fernanda to skirt the edge of the dance floor. Long robes, not so great for Latin dances.
Whatever is going on with Myles she really has no idea but its normal in Changeling Land, really. " 'That' is ..." She glances to the man then steps closer to Myles. "I don't know. I opened my club and got a bunch of people that are suddenly obsessed with me and think I'm some goddess or something." She says with a shrug. "But they'll do whatever I tell them to and watch out for me so its pretty cool." She grins and then lifts a brow at Jims response. "Excuse me? I'm sorry, do you want the five dollars for you glass? Why don't you come and get it..." She searches about mostly likely held by her devotee and draws out a twenty or whatever she happens to grab. She then stands there with it, arms crossed lazily as she stares silently ahead at the exchange.
Jim looks over his shoulder toward the younger tender at the other end of the bar, a late twenty-something with dark hair and mixed ethnicity, and tips his head to indicate that Isrieal is HIS turn now. Jim's busy. Hispanic, Indian subcontinent or Pakistani, possibly something more oriental, the younger bartender's nametag states that his name is Benedict. He has melty chocolate eyes and naturally thick, dark lashes many female customers only wish they had. Approaching Myles and Isrieal at Jim's signal, he asks, "What can I do for you?" and gives the money-dangling woman a briefly puzzled look, trying to suss out what's going on.
"Of course, of course; again, my apologies..." Myles says distractedly back to Jim - his bar tab? Fine. That jittery hand reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and Myles breaks out a money clip. What, the Abernathy's got like a secret pile of gold somewhere?! A $50 is slid over discreetly -- or... Dismissively? Myles isn't looking his way - but the mask /does/ make expressions hard to see.
Case in point: Myles' masked look to Isrieal is... Complicated.
"Mm... I see." He says after a moment - tilting his head, to watch the man in black. ... Wait, that's all? It -would- be, if Myles didn't catch sight of Fernanda. What robed person holds a clipboard? How strange!
Isrieal being triggered is probably whats going on. She doesn't care about his lashes, hers are better. She looks unamused as Benedict approaches. "I was just going to pay you for your glass since you were going to force this man to do so. When obviously it was an accident and..." She gestures to his cane. "Really?? I don't need you to 'do' anything." The fear around her ampliflies in the slightest bit when she is worked up. Myles is an Autumn. How dare anyone be rude to an Autumn. When Myles pays on his own she just gives the evil eye to the bartender for a moment then looks away. She just flicks her bill towards him as well in a 'keep the change you filthy animal sorta way' it can fall on the floor, he can pick it up. Whatever happens. She steps up beside Myles then and follows his gaze towards Fernanda. "You see something weird?" She wonders.
Alas, Fernanda is doing nothing more exciting than signing off, should anyone happen somehow snoop, on inventory lists to break out a few more bottles of particularly expensive wine and assorted liquors from the cellar. Jim snaps a photo of the page with her signature, stows the clipboard away, and busies himself at a computer down at that end of the bar, below the customers' visibility level, typing something in.
How dreadfully mundane and business-like.
Yes! What robed person DOES hold a clipboard? Peculiar thing for a robed sort to be doing, that. Oughtn't she be casting eldritch rituals with the blood of the slain or some such?
Spotting the boss at work, Tanya makes her way over to the staring match. "Hello" she smiles to the red-dressed woman...although she is wearing a mask, "I don't suppose you are our hostess for this evening?"
Myles clears his throat - ahem, ahem. "Isrieal, these /people/ are just, mm, doing their jobs..." He says in quiet sotto voice, all polite like - but not exactly soft. There's a whisper of sharpness there. He merely -watches- his fellow Autumn for a few long moments, then clears his throat again, taps his cane, and takes two limping steps away from her and her black clad consort.
Must be trying to avoid stepping in something sticky.
Huh? Oh, the reply to her question. Myles is still looking out towards the crowd -- the occasional dance or party-goer getting in his way, but still he manages to watch Fernanda... Work. Because she too is a perfectly ordinary human being, going about her perfectly ordinary business. They are so tremendously normal - even if Myles' staring is... Uh... Has he just zoned out?
Isrieal shrugs and looks away when nothing weird is noted. "My employees are just totally understanding about accidents so its just...well...to each their own." She shrugs. "I guess we will all just have to be perfect while we are here." Its that sort of place. She trails along away from the bar, followed by the man in black. If one looks hard enough they'll notice more of these men stratgegially blending in here and there, just in case. They do seem to glance towards Isrieal every now and again. Eerie. "Well...I don't know what to do here. I'm not about to dance with strangers or anything." She hates being touched. "I might just wander out."
Fernanda glances to the side when peripheral vision informs her of someone's approach, a hostess' professional smile appearing as if summoned below the lower-most edge of her ornate red leather mask. Cornflower blue eyes observe Tanya with polite interest and quiet competence as she offers a hand for a clasp and confirms, "Fernanda Delacoeur," in an accent which .. well, these days it's probably not too identifiable, short of history buffs who really studied the upper crust in the midwest a century and a half ago. Also French. The given name is given with the Italian pronunciation, and the surname is perfectly French, no American accent to trammel it. "I hope the evening has treated you kindly." She watches Tanya's face, expectant.
Tanya removes her mask before claspingthe offered hand. "Tanya Li, councilwoman for Fallcoast. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. It was an...interesting evening. Managed to get a few phone numbers while looking for you. I'd like to welcome you to our town and if there is anything I can do to help such a classy woman as yourself acclimatised, please don't hesitate to call."
"You aren't always perfect?" Myles says softly to Isrieal, then clears his throat - bobbing his head in vague, hazy, possible-agreement. "I am sure you and your, ah, posse will find some activity to remain engaged in - you are, as my younger cousin remarked, 'hashtag blessed'."
Did Myles really just say that? Yes. He's also started to push himself away, jerking unsteadily on his feet before he reaches some agreement with his body and cane, and merely starts to limp in a slow, hobbled gait. "Unfortunately, fate does not smile on all. Carpe noctumn, Isriael. If I am not consumed by the ether, we shall, mm, see each other again."
"Then it is doubly a pleasure to make -your- acquaintance, Ms. Li," the hostess smiles to the councilwoman. "I hope to provide many more evenings similar to this. If the city ever has need of a ballroom, of course I would be pleased to assist."
As a courtesy, when Tanya removes her mask, Fernanda does likewise, reaching back to untie the ribbons holding it in place. More satin, of course. Must match the dress. Her face? Pretty, sure, but nothing dramatic, nothing particularly memorable beyond the eyes. Just another well-bred Caucasian woman.
"We don't have a ballroom already? We must do at the Country Club. You should come down there one evening. I'm sure someone with your breeding should be introduced to the right group of people" Tanya smiles. "But, for now, I shall make my escape. So much work to do when you're in government." A little bow to the hostess. "Until next time."
Fernanda dips her head to Tanya in turn, laughing quietly and agreeing, "That would be lovely, Ms. Li." And, because contact details are important, she adds a warm, "The receptionist has my card," with a gesture to indicate the foyer doors and a farewell of, "Pleasant evening."