yasmina couldn't stay anywhere forever, but she might choose marrow, if she could. ever sentimental, they liked how close-knit it was, how tight they all held onto each other. it was as bitter as it was sweet, but she could pretend, at least in their own head, that it was only sweet. wouldn't it be nice, a town of once-dead now-not, living together and taking care of each other? forever and ever?
it was a fleeting fantasy, half-thought and not even really felt. yasmina had a role to play here, but that didn't mean everyone else did; they were just living their lives and those lives were theirs to live. even in a short life, people couldn't help but step on each other, and that was even truer in a long one. there was no reason that had to happen here, to any of them, and she felt an odd sense of responsibility for a town that had lost so many and had not truly gotten them back. there was no reason to push the knife deeper. it would already take so long for the wound to heal, if it ever truly did.
the presence of someone else reminded them that they were at a party. her smile grew on its own as she stepped out of their way, realizing she was standing in the way of the plates.
"oh, sorry!" they said, stepping to the side. "go ahead, please—have you tried the cornbread yet?"
Brooklyn was getting herself a drink when she felt someone approaching, turning around she saw Hayes a few steps away. "Fancy seeing you out here in the wild." She joked. "Unfortunately for you, there will be no dances here tonight." Hayes was starting to get on her nerves, not because he did anything wrong, but because she was starting to anticipate his presence at the club, and almost miss when he wasn't around. Slippery slope Brookie.
Open to: Anyone
Location: Kitchen, Tina's apartment
Ryder had had mixed thoughts about coming tonight. He still wasn't on great terms with Tina, the two of them hadn't talked directly in weeks. He hadn't reached out to her, but she hadn't to him either. So a potluck at her apartment wasn't exactly his first choice of evening plans, but Blaine was co-hosting and he would always show up for his best friend, no questions asked. Cooking for the potluck had been out of the question, neither cooking nor baking were his forte. Whoever decided that recipes should have things measured in both tsp and tbsp was an evil genius, or had never had dyslexia. Ryder had confused them one too many times to risk cooking for others. So he had put himself on drinks, though he often ended up making them anyway given he was a professional bartender.
The evening's activities had migrated into the other rooms, but he was currently in the kitchen fixing himself another drink. Puck had requested whiskey, so Ryder had brought everything he needed to make whiskey sours and old fashioneds. He'd learned a long time ago not to offer their group too much choice, or else he'd spend his entire evening rewashing cocktail shakers and making everyone something different. He had just poured the bourbon into the cocktail shaker when he heard someone else enter the kitchen. He glanced up to see who it was. "Oh hey, you want one?" Ryder asked, keeping the bottle ready in his hand in case he needed to make double.
𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 | The General - Han, Iseul; The Lady of Asteria - Zhao Yan
Her first court experience taught her the importance of arrangement. Those positioned at the sides were a league of spectators with great convictions; esteem was awarded for their show of unity – a collective meant to promote anonymity. Whoever took center stage became fair game for the clothed wolves. As for the corners? No courtier risked a corner, no body was made to fit a 90° angle, and nobody diverged from the herd without the act being premeditated.
Jiao Bi held no fondness for corners anyway, only uncertainty awaited there.
She strayed from the dance floor, pursuing respite along the edges, hopeful that the crowd would swallow her whole. She was keeping her poise simple and spine pulled to a taut for interlocutors; on the other hand, she suspected she had overplayed on propriety. Yet, she took comfort in the fact that she was a nonperson, having danced only with her father, his associates, a few Soteran nobles from lesser houses, and a couple of foreign dignitaries.
Unfortunately for her, the tightness of her slippers had begun to envelop her feet – she couldn’t help the twitch forming at the corner of her left eye and mouth. She scanned her surroundings for unoccupied seats but found none. Across the ballroom, furniture and décor graciously displayed themselves from a withdrawing chamber. As she steadied her foot to tap the front of her robes, the crowd swept to her sides.
Gone was her only path to proper respite, as adults and children alike flooded the floor for one more Soteran spectacle.
‘As if the coronation was not enough to sate their appetite.’ Her voice was barely audible as she sniffed, her breath catching at the sight of her daxiushan's skirt and lower sleeves, now stained. Regret engulfed Jiao Bi. She hugged the ivory gauze closer to her frame. Her daxiushan, a sponsorship from her aunt – who found prosperity through commerce after relinquishing her nobility – was still money wisely saved. That she had been careless with it absolutely gnawed at her.
The murmurs from the crowd brought her back to reality, though her mind was dulled by exhaustion. Just when she believed she couldn’t share the spectators’ enthusiasm, there were strum strings playing the most pleasant melodies accompanied by the silvery chortle from a wind instrument.
The creases on her face softened, if only a little.
‘Soteran musicians? Dancers? Performers?’ She mused.
Curiosity finally piqued, Jiao Bi spearheaded her way through walls of besotted nobles, enduring the constriction in her lungs and the prick of each step until she glimpsed the performance through a gap between two ladies’ necks. She locked in her knees, leaning slightly as her periphery caught a blur of festooned fools.
For every prance and romp and jolly, Jiao Bi hoped for her ennui allayed, but the audience's laughter and the fools’ festive tone proved as vain as the act they performed.
"...a tale as old as time has forgotten how to come alive."
For a moment, her composure faltered. Was this a ballad then? A threnody for both Kingdoms and their forgotten Houses? For once-proud legacies undone, like tapestries unpreserved? A ballad set to lure her into thoughts about House Shih’s precarious position? How their relevance teetered on the edge, clinging to glories of yore?
Joy’s phrasing seemed to proclaim her unspoken fears: Will the Shih name become nothing but a forgotten tale?
“What's in a name, if it falls like rain?” Her words spoken, soft in its bitterness, might have been mistaken by a bystander as a quip at the performers. But to her, it was a reminder – Jiao Bi needed to remind herself.
By the time the fools concluded their riddles, she was steady. The crowd had parted, almost as though Joy and Amusement themselves held dominion over the throng - as center stages who controlled who stayed and left.
‘Ominous fellows,’ she thought with a smirk barely meeting her eyes. Should she dare to aim for the position of court jester? At least her bleak humor might find its audience, though it'd plague her liege father with constant apoplexies. Speaking of her father – was he just as affected by the fools as she was?
Drawn by the nagging suspicion that something was amiss, Jiao Bi decided to gauge interpretations about the song. She lingered near a small group of attendees.
“Their words,” she trailed, letting her words soak into the space, “carry a strange cadence, do they not? Almost as though they sing to ghosts rather than their spectators.”
Her tone was acerbic yet measured, a languid amusement tugging at the corners of her lips, but her eyes only showed the faintest of creasing.
open to all !
event 001: masquerade, enchanted evening
@inaducursehqstarters
Kaya, mystified by the lights and the music and the gowns, floated amongst the crowd. While her mask did conceal her face, she was certain almost everyone could tell who she was. There wasn't much anonymity to these things, at least not as much as she'd hoped.
She'd hoped to have a good night, prayed even. But when she'd spotted the demon across the room, she'd nearly fled all the way home. Instead, she stopped at the bar. The anger that rose into her throat when she saw him was nearly too much to bear.
Throwing a hand up to signal the bartender, Kaya ordered two shots, both for herself. She finished the first before the bartender finished pouring the second, then ordered one more for good measure. If she were to survive this crowded party full of all the scariest people in town, she would do it with a little extra confidence.
Unfortunately, someone caught her in the act. Not that she tried to be sneaky in her shot-taking, but she preferred not to be seen drinking her feelings. "What?" Kaya snarled. "It's a party."
arrive, enjoy two to four songs by spellbound, partake in the refreshments while secluding herself in the corner, unless pulled out of said corner by her friends. that was her plan for the evening. melinda was out of her element, she dressed up more than she usually did and the heels were highly uncomfortable, even with the cushioning charm. however, pushing herself out of her comfort zone was on her new years resolution list. so here she was.
open: @fideliusstarters
location: the great hall, buffet table
all graham had been hearing about the last few days was just how great the spellbound were. their mere return to the stage had drawn a gaggle of students closer, rabid for a closer look. graham seemed to have the opposite reaction, given when the first song started to play, his boots led him step by step further from the stage "what a fucking headache," he'd mumbled as he met the buffet. of anything that might remedy his foul mood, food was the most accessible and so a pumpkin pasty found itself in his hand, then his mouth rather quickly.
closed: @adrianxpucey
location: courtyard, during masquerade
as romilda had sat tucked in one of the open arches fencing the courtyard, she could still feel the bits of sweat clinging to her skin. after raising her heartbeat a bit and moving to the music upon the dancefloor, the heat had gotten to her and a bit of scottish october air seemed the only cure. that and a bit of something special she'd had stowed away. or, well, at least that'd been the plan until she'd realized her wand was upstairs and her lighter along with it— both abandoned, either forgotten or thought unnecessary. and so it was, when she'd heard footsteps come her way, romilda had tilted back, peeked at what she could spot of their attire (as to make herself certain it wasn't a professor), and called out. "any chance you've got a light?" her lips pressed together with hope, then with need. "i might be willing to share."
