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Post by Chaos on May 16, 2010 14:24:51 GMT 7
The first guests to arrive at the ball are often confused. There's no host, no ceiling and no visible source for the music wafting over the surface of the lake along with the delicate tendrils of mist. But those who stumble upon it once the party begins are even more confused to see the dancers swirling amidst the fairy-lights atop the invisible glass platform that covers the lake. So join in and we hope you have a magical night under the stars. Just don't stay too long or stray too far. Once the lights go out the party is most definitely over. |
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Post by Κομμα on Aug 16, 2012 12:29:26 GMT 7
The night was always more comfortable. Something about its natural darkness, the silvery moonlight, felt so much more elegant and welcoming than the sweltering midday sun that Ferros avoided like plague. It had earned him the rather irritating and thoroughly uncreative name of "Vampire" from one of his less desirable colleagues, but the excuse for a deathgod had as good as begged for mercy after a few hours spent in a tiny cave with a less than friendly biomechanical lifeform, and had blessedly been avoiding him since he had been let out.
It was so much more beautiful at this hour. The clear sky reflected thousands of tiny stars onto the smooth surface of the lake as dancers swept over it, the glass surface beneath their heels so thoroughly polished they appeared to float on air. It was lovely, and easy enough to blend into the background and watch from the edge of the trees, pondering the party-goers over a rather generously filled brandy glass and smoking pipe of black cherry tobacco.
Ferros paced silently and leisurely through the light mist along the edge of the trees. Though he had stumbled by chance upon this strange ball, he was loathe to leave it now. He would remain and watch for a period before making his leave once more, little as he ever liked to leave.
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Post by Elindë on Aug 16, 2012 15:17:10 GMT 7
[Yay! -dances-]
Círde disliked the forest with it's thick undergrowth and mists that just about anything could be lurking in, but it didn't have the sense of stifling security his home of so long ago had done so it was better than some of the forests he'd experienced. And the ball was holding his full attention.
He moved with ease through the dancers, and if any of them saw him they didn't truly notice him. He people watched as he always did, but here there was no need to pick out newcomers, track them and then wait for them to come to him out of fear and curiosity. Here he just looked and that was that.
The redhead sensed there were others walking unseen in the eaves of the forest but he paid them little mind. There was always danger if one chose to look for it. Besides even if some creatures here were immune to bullets as they were at home he could hit them over the head with the butt of his musket and make some sort of run for it.
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Post by Κομμα on Aug 17, 2012 12:31:07 GMT 7
It seemed Ferros wasn't the only party dweller remaining on the sidelines; though it appeared this red-haired elf was a little closer to the floor, and armed. This could have meant positively anything. He could have been security, or perhaps he simply preferred remaining armed at all times. The latter hinted at a certain sense of insecurity and danger, of fear, that brought Ferros to smirk a little; only a little. It was too slim a possibility to bother lingering over, and certainly too slim to test.
A youthful and anxious attendee he had brushed passed earlier before assuming his current post a safe distance from the glass dance floor had shown a definite fear of the water below her feet; really, of water on the whole, ever since being unable to save a younger sibling from drowning in her early preteen years. For a moment Ferros scanned the crowds for her, and located her, rather more loosened from a few glasses of wine and laughing with her partner. His keen eyes remained on her as they edged closer to the center of the glass.
It would be troublesome to have the glass actually break with this sort of crowd around. A little illusion would suffice here perfectly well.
He dumped the ashes from the bowl of his pipe onto the ground and crushed out the few remaining glowing embers with the toe of one polished black shoe before stowing the pipe away in a jacket pocket. His slate gray eyes flickered back up to the dance floor, just as the girl was at its center. Ferros ran a hand over the reddish stubble on his chin thoughtfully, eyes closed, and flicked his wrist just a little as he straightened his arm out against his side, such a subtle motion that it could have been as simple as shaking some sort of mosquito or fly away from it.
Yet, the moment he did it, the girl stopped moving and fell limp against her dance partner.
The girl came to only half a minute later, with a crowd surrounding her as her partner tried to rouse her; and she screamed in such a way that she alone might crack the glass beneath her feet. Ferros's eyes opened just as her scream ripped across the dance floor, and he sighed. Another sip of brandy and he ran a hand back across his hair.
The stubborn patients were always particularly tiring.
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Post by Rae on Aug 17, 2012 13:05:23 GMT 7
Jem slipped easily enough between dancers, not caring if anyone gave him strange looks. Ever since he was a child his hair and skin had been pure white courtesy of a backfiring Will spell his mother had done. He had never gotten mad at her, though; the spell had torn the entire house apart, leaving him an orphan and too sad to get angry at his mum. Still, when the only bit of colour on you was the bright, bright blue of lines magic had etched into his skin and eyes, odd looks were normal. He almost didn't notice them anymore. And, really, he would have been in a better mood if not for Jack.
William Jackson Carstairs was his best friend and a constant pain in his neck. Because Jack looked and acted just like his "uncle" Reaver. Well, almost exactly, anyway.
Jem looked for refuge amongst the dancers, trying not to think about how his best friend was making out with some girl he'd just met behind a tree.
The scream got his attetion. He ran to the edge of the crowd, his duty as a Hero coming to mind. He had to help! But something wasn't right. There was a definite aura of Will, of magic, in the air. Keeping his mind cool, blank, and logical, his azure eyes roamed over the crowd; searching, searching.... Her attacker must be somewhere around here.
A distant part of his mind wondered if Jack was still...busy, or if he'd heard the scream, too. Who knew with Jack.
(Hai, dere.)
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Post by Elindë on Aug 17, 2012 14:06:00 GMT 7
[Hey, Rae XD]
Círde showed no physical reaction to the scream that rent across the lake, but inwardly he'd nearly jumped out of his skin. Glancing around him at the forests not so far away, he tried to find movement but found nothing. He was sure the presence he had noticed earlier was behind this, though. But he did not know why.
He supposed he'd better make his way towards the noise, and he was suddenly glad of his height. Though there were people even taller than him, it still made it easier to get through the gathering crowd. The sight that met the Elf made him bare his teeth in revulsion; who would make a person suffer so? Why not just kill them quickly, if the woman's death was indeed the motive of the attacker. Círde pointedly ignored the worried looks his teeth earnt him; his eye-teeth were ever so slightly too long, as were all Elven eye-teeth in his homeland. He supposed that to some here they looked vampiric. They obviously hadn't seen the fangs his brother now sported.
He twisted round and scanned the treeline again. He thought he saw something for a split second, but that could easily have been a trick of the light. The Elf moved to the person in the crowd of people who looked prepared to actually do something. He acknowledged the other's white skin and hair and the blue magic lines etched on him but didn't comment. The other's eyes were roaming the crowd in the same way his own had roamed the treeline, so he gave it a shot.
"Excuse me, sir," he began. Lore this was strange! He doubted he'd spoken like this to a stranger in years, at least not away from his own doorstep. He hoped he hadn't lost the knack, "but I do believe there to be some presence in the trees. Mayhap you could inform me as to whether you feel this too?"
Too formal he chided himself inwardly while keeping his expression blank. Far too formal, but what does that really matter so long as this guy replies? He looked at the young woman. Still writhing and screaming. Whoever was doing this was incredibly sick-minded.
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Post by Rae on Aug 17, 2012 15:48:07 GMT 7
(Eli! ^^)
Jem half-tilted his head toward the elf, listening to him as he continued looking. "I felt a large quantity of W--magic, I mean, in this area. But I cannot trace its location."
The young Hero mentally cursed. He'd nearly forgotten that, outside of his realm, no one called magic Will. And then he mentally berated himself for mentally cursing. It was improper. If he ever returned to Samarkand, the temple leaders of his hometown would chastise him severely for it.
"Who are you, by the way?" he added, trying to make the situation seem less severe.
He thought he caught movement by the trees as well, and prayed to his gods that all was alright.
---
Jack hummed as he strolled along. He hoped Jem didn't find out he'd killed that girl...who turned out not to be a girl, but a siren. It made sense, though, now he thought about it; no human girls were that pretty. Ever. A flicker of fear went through him at what Uncle Reaver would say if he found out that he'd been so stupid as to think with the wrong head without being aware of the situation. He was terribly afraid his Uncle would be disappointed in him.
He ran a tanned hand through his slightly wavy, warm brown hair as he walked through the trees. What a nightmare.
Jack had the tendancy not to pay attention to where his feet took him, and so, it was no surprise when he tripped and fell...landing right next to a person.
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Post by Κομμα on Aug 17, 2012 22:09:41 GMT 7
(Yay!! *glomps everyone*)
The girl was being much too loud, beginning to regain a little sense of self and yelling about some demon in her head. Ferros rolled his eyes, and closed them lightly, and coaxed her to relax; to sleep.
When she fell silent and abruptly fell toward the floor, she was luckily caught by a couple of concerned onlookers. He could try again after she had time to calm down; once he established a connection with someone, it couldn't be broken again unless they could muster the sheer will to break it, or he broke it himself.
The quiescence of the night was disturbed when a young man landed not terribly far from his feet. The psychologist opened his eyes and quirked an eyebrow, brushed a little of the dust the disturbance kicked up off of his own black frock coat, and observed the fellow briefly.
"You should be a little more watchful," he said quietly, though calmly and amiably, and reached down his free hand in offer to help him up. His eyes glanced briefly up toward the floor and caught sight once again of that red-haired elf, now accompanied with on odd man that Ferros might have called albino if not for the flecks of blue in his skin. The oddities of this realm or anything in it never did much to surprise him anymore; he had been here for plenty long enough.
They did intrigue him however, and he kept his sight trained on and off the elf and the blue and white man.
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Post by Elindë on Aug 20, 2012 15:48:39 GMT 7
Well let's go to the forest and see what we find then! Círde thought as the blue and white man stalled. He would have gone on his own but now there was the prospect of company a lone venture seemed less appealing.
"They call me Creidhe," he said. This was true; the Men of the city he now called home had corrupted his Elven name as quickly as they could, or so it had seemed to Círde. It was an old name, one of those names that had meant something in the langage of Men once but now none knew what it was. It was the name he always used on business. In fact he hadn't been called Círde by anyone apart from his internal voice for years. "And what do they call you?"
And more importantly what do they call the thing that's doing this? He watched, strangely calm, as the woman drifted into sleep. Whatever it was had other things on its mind. If we've both sensed it, maybe it knows we have and is watching... He resisted the urge to scan the treeline again. If this creature did know it had gained an audience, looking for it would only cement this notion in its mind. The corner of Círde's mouth twisted into a strange smirk; following people was always difficult when they had the advantage.
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Post by Rae on Aug 20, 2012 19:59:33 GMT 7
(=D Yay! It's a party! By the way, Jem's like a sorcerer; he only uses magic when anything's afoot. Whereas Jack's like a gunslinger/thief.)
“Pleasure to meet you,” he replied. “Translated into a common tongue, my name is closest to Jem; and so everyone has taken to calling me it.”
It was true. He almost didn’t remember his birth name anymore.
“Did you…only, did you want to try and find this thing? Or would you prefer staying with the girl? Something tells me she won’t be awake for a while.”
Jem wasn’t very good at working in a team, which was why he had only ever was partnered with Jack for Quests. But he could try. Especially if a girl’s life was on the line. He stretched out his senses, trying to feel any more Will activity. It was hard to get a lock on it with so much magic in the air.
---
Jack looked embarassedly at the man, but took his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Quickly, he snatched back his hand and unrolled his shirtsleeves to cover up the clockwork heart tattoed on his arm. Awkward. So awkward. Need to learn to bloody walk. Don't say bloody! Uncle Reaver's gonna smack me. I can't believe this--just shut it already!
"Thanks, mate; sorry, too. 'M terrible 'bout keeping directions in mind. I didn't hurt you, eh?"
He spared a quick, morose thought for the clothes he'd borrowed from Henry. He actually liked them, despite teasing Henry that he looked like a noble twat in them. And now they were probably ruined. Super.
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Post by Κομμα on Aug 21, 2012 1:16:31 GMT 7
Only glancing at the boy, Ferros shrugged. "No harm done," was all he said, before looking back out toward the dance floor. The albino and blue fellow and the elf didn't seem to be conversing in a casual manner, and he wondered if they were of a mind to hunt him down. And he had just had this body made for him; Cornelius would be none to happy if he needed another this quickly.
Then again, it had been awhile since he had any time off. He deserved a little fun.
And so, as Leanne slept on the invisible dance floor, she dreamed of drowning, and of a voice assuring her there was nothing to be afraid of. Only once one faced a fear could one overcome it; this philosophy had done wonders for a great percentage of his patients.
Ferros tended not to dwell much on the smaller percentage.
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