#ah:starters

[liamadler]

The crisp evening air was what welcomed Liam as he walked down the gravel path. It was night across paradise and the moon was at its highest. He finally had worked up the courage to head down to the event happening at the Moonfall Lounge, a once in a time event. A time when anonymity is the culture around, a masquerade ball. Liam was able to pretend to be all that he wasn't, or all that he will become. He was set down this path and nothing will stop him. Liam wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to harmlessly flirt with the men here, that was why he came.

Liam found a small pocket of water along the pass and looked at his reflection. His emerald green suit assured that he stood out, elegant, classy, and flashy. He wanted the attention on him, usually he was the opposite. Don't get him wrong, he liked attention. Liam just hated when it was all about him; he liked to share the spotlight.

His suit was complemented by a silver owl mask with navy blue highlights. The owl hiding his own lack of wisdom. He quickly fixed his hair before he ruddied off. He didn't want to miss the event before he could even enjoy a single dance.

That suddenly struck a nerve, he would have to dance. Liam knew that he always struggled to dance, all his partners said so. The thought of dancing with a stranger scared him. He couldn't let that stop him. He wouldn't let that stop the persona that he is presenting. Liam shook off all his nerves as he neared the lounge.

As he stepped to the lounge he could see the array of men that were present. They were all dressed up in the finest suits that he had ever seen. He straightened his back and walked in with confidence. He found a spot at the bar where he took residence. He felt his persona starting to slip; he hastily ordered a drink.

Liam watched the crowd at his seat. He saw someone not far, someone that caught his eye. He took a swing of his drink before leaving. He let the music take control of his mind, waltzing over.

"Well hello there." He hid his British accent with an American one. It was a talent he had, masking his accent.

"I saw you from afar and couldn't help but be admired by you. Hope you don't mind my forwardness...but may I have a dance?"

He extended his hand out. An offer, an invitation to allow something to form. The beauty of the night, it may not last. Liam wished, no, he hoped that it would last.

[masonxellis]

LOCATION: Lover's Descent - Beach (around sunset)

One would perhaps expect Mason to be the type to socialize with the guests and fellow staff at every opportunity, that he would be mingling with people as soon as his shift was over and he was mostly free to roam the island. And it wasn't even an incorrect assumption - he certainly never minded being around people, especially in a paradise like this where everybody was a gorgeous man, offering stimulating conversation and eye candy alike constantly. And yet, the resort had even more beauty to offer beyond its inhabitants.

The beach was absolutely one of his favorite spots to come to for some yoga practice - there was no lack of options when it came to where to stretch and find some balance, and yet nothing could beat feeling the setting sun from behind as the ocean waves splashed ashore in front of him. Mason closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the sounds and scent of the nature around him, feeling the sand beneath his feet.

And then, he noticed something. Or rather, someone.

For a moment, he didn't react, remaining still in warrior's pose, before a smile appeared on his lips. He didn't turn to stop facing the ocean, but opened his eyes, signaling that he'd noticed the presence of the other man. "Beautiful, isn't it? The sunet reflecting on the water", Mason mused. "Were you planning to go for an evening swim? Or just enjyoing a walk along the beach?"

[harborheir]

Location: The After Dark Lounge — Early Evening

The first warm notes of twilight had barely settled over Azure Haven when Julian Harbor stepped into the After Dark Lounge, the soft amber lighting catching along the crisp lines of his open-collar shirt. The space was still quiet — early, untouched — the low hum of music drifting lazily through the room as though waking the night in slow, deliberate breaths.

Julian paused just inside the entrance, taking the rare opportunity to absorb the stillness before the lounge filled with bodies and heat and possibility. From here, he could see the ripple of the warm-water pool beneath the floorboards, the shadows curling around the private alcoves, the way the flickering candlelight painted gold across the cushions.

It always struck him how peaceful the island felt in these first few moments of evening — before desire sharpened, before drinks loosened tongues, before the world dropped its guard.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders back, letting the director’s composure slip just enough that the softer, quieter version of himself surfaced. Julian picked up a glass from the bar — something citrus-forward and light — and leaned his hip against the polished wood, eyes sweeping slowly across the room.

Waiting. Observing. Open.

Someone was here — or arriving. He felt the shift in the air before he saw anyone, the subtle prickle of presence that always caught his attention. A guest lingering near the entrance, a staff member approaching with purpose, or perhaps a man he’d noticed earlier in the day standing just close enough to be acknowledged.

Julian’s gaze lifted, warm and inviting, the hint of a smile touching his mouth.

“Evening,” he murmured, voice low, controlled, with that effortless softness he wore so well. “You’re out a bit earlier than most. Looking for company, or simply the quiet before the night wakes up?”

His posture remained open — a slow invitation, a place for anyone to step into.

A perfect moment for someone to approach him.

[dorianofthebody]

LOCATION: Azure Haven — The Coral Pool Deck (Late Afternoon)

Dorian Bellerose had been at the resort for a few hours, just long enough to understand why men whispered about Azure Haven the way they did. The air itself felt curated—warm, slow-moving, almost intimate, as if the island breathed with the people who stepped onto it.

The Coral Pool was quieter than he expected for this time of day, framed in soft sunlight and the faint hum of distant conversation. No crowds, no flashing cameras, no society acquaintances trying to impress him. Just turquoise water, sun-warmed stone, and the low murmur of music drifting from the nearby bar.

Dorian shed his shirt with the kind of unhurried confidence that came naturally to him, draping it neatly over a lounge chair. He dipped two fingers into the pool—warm, inviting—and exhaled for what felt like the first real time in months. Then he slid into the water, sinking until it held him fully, the heat loosening tension from his shoulders.

For a moment, he let himself float, eyes drifting shut. No expectations. No persona to maintain. Just himself.

When he surfaced again, he wasn’t alone.

A shadow crossed the deck—a figure approaching, lingering, maybe observing. Dorian pushed wet hair from his forehead, lips curving into a slow, knowing half-smile, the kind that always invited trouble without saying a word.

He rested his arms along the pool’s edge, body relaxed, gaze lifting to meet whoever had joined him.

“Beautiful afternoon,” he said, voice low, warm, and unmistakably inviting. “Almost too beautiful to spend it alone.”

He didn’t specify whether that was an observation or an offer. He didn’t need to.

The space between them was open—waiting for someone to fill it.

[corporate-shuffle]

Location: Moonfall Lounge

Roman had given himself a few days to charge his battery, to make him yearn for at least a little bit of interaction again. He had spent that time holed up in an office, processing requests to the right departments and keeping track of volume and feedback. Nothing customer facing for a bit. The masquerade was the actual most perfect event for him to open up. He could hide behind another layer of anonymity just in case his family was doing something weird and somehow found his location again. The only real distinguishable feature that he couldn't do much about was his height, which would almost certainly betray him if he happened to be pursued by those who knew him.

Hopefully, that isn't the case.

He's taken off his work-from-locked-office attire, consisting of his normal thick, furry coat and jeans and swapped them for some real nice fabric, a dark green suit he had altered because he was already too small for all the mens' sizes. It put him back a lot of rubles, but it hasn't let him down. In the way that a sports car that you only keep in your garage and never, ever, EVER actually drive has never let you down. Roman's chosen a mask resembling a polar bear, because he thinks it looks badass and there's no way to hide his origin either way, so he might as well embrace it.

He drifted past cliques and prepared himself a glass of blackberry Crown Royal to sip on, hopefully calm his nerves a bit. He isn't great at large gatherings, but he feels kinda shit after holing himself up, so this is his punishment.

[goodshot-goodsoldier]

Location: Grand Atrium, Early Evening

Warm. That’s the first thing he notices when he steps off the ship. Just as moist as, maybe even moister than the Pacific. But it’s a warm moisture, carried through the air on what’s called a ‘sea breeze’. It kind of stings. Are there sand particles that get picked up and flung into Thomas’s face? It sort of feels like it, but it’s extremely subtle. The soil in the PNW is moist and compact and not loose like the sand here. He’s got on a pair of gray jeans and a dark teal hoodie, far too warm for the weather of the island, as he’s soon to discover.

He carries with him not much in the way of physical things. A few pairs of jeans and tees, socks, underwear. The closest thing he has to ‘fancy dress’ is a cool leather bomber jacket that he’s had forever which he has NO idea how to wash. Very much a believer in the concept of winging it. In the way of non-physical things, however, Thomas is a camel. Okay that was a terrible metaphor. He runs his hands through his hair, resting his tired eyes for just a second before he steps into the main building, the atrium. Seems he’s here just a liiiittle bit later than the others, which is nice. He likes interaction, but a bunch of people all at once is definitely too much for him to handle. He takes a seat in one of the couches and just rests his back for a bit.

It’s luxurious as hell in here. He’s away from the grime and the dust and the drabness of everyday life. The floors shine, the ceilings sparkle, and he almost starts feeling homesick immediately before he lays his head back and closes his eyes, all splayed out on the couch, taking up the whole damn seat. He needs to really forget about California for right now. He has a job. It can certainly wait for tomorrow, though, he just got here.

To onlookers, it might appear that a homeless guy found his way in and is using the couch as a temporary resting place. But it’s just Tom Seversky, who can’t dress to a vacation for shit.

[theromankiss]

Location: After Dark Lounge — Shadowed Seating Alcove

Roman lounged in one of the velvet-lined alcoves of the After Dark Lounge, the warm gold lighting catching on the whiskey glass between his fingers. Music pulsed low through the floorboards, a slow rhythm that matched the easy rise and fall of his chest. He’d only arrived tonight, but he already moved through the lounge like he owned a piece of it — broad shoulders relaxed, lips curled in a half-smirk that said he’d come here for trouble and wouldn’t mind finding it sooner rather than later. The soft murmur of voices, the heat of bodies drifting past, the scent of citrus and something darker lingering in the air… it all fed right into him. Roman didn’t just enjoy places like this — he came alive in them.

He noticed movement in the shadows before he saw who it belonged to, someone hovering near the edge of his alcove like they weren’t sure if they were intruding or invited. Roman shifted, opening the angle of his body just enough to offer space without saying a word. His gaze lifted, slow and deliberate, from the glass to the figure standing there. “Well,” he murmured, voice smooth, warm, and edged with clear interest, “you look like someone who didn’t come here to sit alone.” He nodded once toward the empty spot beside him, an unspoken invitation hanging between them — open, easy, and entirely theirs to decide what came next.