[AW+] you can dance if you want to
#1
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As the sun began to set the Lune began his checks for the upcoming dance and feast. They had hired a traveling band to keep things lively, and Isaac, their butcher, along with Josephine, had done a fantastic job of preparing a wonderful feast to celebrate the ending of the Summit. Luca could hardly relax quite yet. After a busy day of taking up guard himself, patrolling some of the borders, and ensuring the guests were well cared for it was just about time for him to take a breath and enjoy himself. With the musicians fed and in place, the banners and flowers hung, and fresh logs put on the fire, it was time to get the party started. Luca called out for the second time this day, though he had to admit he was personally much more excited about a dance and feast than sitting in a room filled with other leaders who were there judging him. It was hard enough on the Lune hosting the event, leaving Casa wide open for attack and ridicule, but he hoped that more good came from it than bad. What the future held, he would have to wait and see.

The music started as guests began to arrive, and Luca did his best to greet everyone at the door as they entered, ever playing the role of host until he could hide in the crowd. As he greeted the guests he reassured them that they were welcome to begin eating and drinking to their heart's content. The party would not be dry, unlike most days in the Cavalier lands. He would be sure to avoid watching the younger members of Casa too carefully, sure they would get into their own trouble. As the crowd grew Luca moved up to the musicians and raised a hand. “Good evening all!” His voice boomed across the hall, ringing between the pillars and up to the vaulted ceilings. “Just before we get started I wanted to thank you all again for coming to promote positive diplomacy between the packs. Please enjoy the food, enjoy the drink, and have some fun. Let the dance begin!” He announced, motioning to the band to strike back up again as he headed into the crowd.

OOC: Set in the evening hours of Oct 21st, in the Great Hall of the courthouse. Please feel free to post once to this thread and then start your independant threads based around the dance.
300+ words

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#2
With the morning over, Tristan had allowed himself to relax and help prepare for the evening. He'd made a mad dash back to his home in the Sugarwoods, realising that in his dread that morning, he'd done nothing to make himself look presentable for the feast that was yet to come. Back in the shack, Tristan had doused his head in water to clean his curly mop of hair, rubbing lavender into the roots to give off a calming smell. Whilst his hair dried into soft and fluffy curls, Tristan prepared his clothing. With only a single shirt to choose from, Tristan decided to at least wear it buttoned up for a better show, using the purple cloth that usually covered his missing eye to make a loose bow tie around his neck. His eye was then covered by some darker cloth the man found lying around. He adorned his rank cloak, then decided against it and hung it back up. It felt heavy on the man's shoulders, not a weight he wanted when this dance would no doubt have the Callow's nerves on edge.

Satisfied with himself, Tristan made his way back to the Fort to help with the setting up. He found Isaac and helped his old friend set up the bountiful feast. As Tristan set down plates of food, he glanced to the selection of drinks and cups available once the festivities began. With a quick glance around, Tristan picked up each bottle and cup to smell, clearing them of any note of poison. It might be rude to assume the guests were out to poison the hosts or kill off rivals, but for man who'd almost died to a poisoned drink, Tristan wasn't prepared to take chances. Still, he made a promise in his head to not check the drinks again once the night began, no matter how much he was put on edge.

When Luca and the leaders returned, Tristan moved away from the tables and set his sights on finding Izrian. A small smile lifted Tristan's face as he recalled the dances he and his lovely viking used to share in previous events, and was glad that for once they could enjoy each others company without the risk of embarrassing parents interfering.
Avatar by Gen <3
#3
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Word Count → 2+ :: ooc


Once again she was at a ball, sitting in the corner. Ramsey, having been awake for most of the day, had finally fallen prey to slumber, despite the clatter of music striking up around him. Not much of a fan of balls and grand gatherings anyway, Saga was content enough to watch the other partygoers as she cradled her month old son. Baelish had left her side to schmooze, or at least she hoped that was what he was doing. She hoped dearly that he was regaining some of his characteristic flare now that that bitch had been dispatched. The child would always be a constant reminder, but at least he seemed determined to make her a positive reminder despite everything.


Still, she had a cup of wine within her grasp, safe in the knowledge that her duty to Ramsey would override her urge to drink and do something stupid. Again. Though as she silently eyed up some of the delegates she felt herself embittered by her vow of self control. She took a sip, her gaze dropping to Ramsey's little body, slowly rising and falling as he breathed. She paused to wipe a bit of drool off of his lip, her digits brushing against his soft, babyish face.


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<div class="title">Saga D'Angelo</div>
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#4
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Word Count → 290
OOC → words

This was the night she was eager for. Inara had put on her favorite dancing dress and didn't make haste when arriving to the hall. Her white locks curled then tossed to break them up from being too tight. Her fur shined from her grooming, the smell of lavender and chamomile dabbed upon her neck fur and tail. A little trick she learned to calm others and make it easier to charm them.


Inara settled into her persona the moment she came into the hall and the moment they were given reign the gypsy strolled over to obtain a glass of wine. Her favorite indulgence. Then her eyes looked around with a cool air of confidence looking for Percival, but instead finding Athras. Her eyes observed him for the longest time as she sipped the wine. She wanted to show Athras just how amazing she is make him realize that she was more than what he made her feel after their first one on one encounter. Inara had to admit, she did get cocky with him, but still she would beguile him. She poured another wine, then she moved her way to the center of the floor letting her hips sway as she drained the glass and placing in on the nearest counter or table.


Eyes closed and her arms went up and her body began to find the beat. It was time to let herself go, and let the weight of proper society to go. Let the gypsy fly and show her colors. Her hips moving and dancing causing the metals to chink with each motion. Not once did she open her eyes as she let her solo dance take flight with the sound of music.

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#5
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Though it was a different place, and in a different time, surrounded by different Luperci, Percival couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity here; now. After all, minus the masks, the ball hosted by the knights of Casa di Cavalieri didn't seem so terribly different to him from the masquerade held by the royals of Cour des Miracles. He felt equally as out-of-place and awkward, at any rate, though he felt better equipped to manage it better this time.


He had a responsibility to his Realm now, after all.


Nursing a vessel of whatever beverage the Cavaliers were providing, Percy was sure to take meager sips and space them out. To get a head full of liquor now could become detrimental to his duty as one of New Caledonia's Diplomats, and he wasn't about to self-sabotage himself like that. No, he had to keep a clear head, even if he knew alcohol could help quell some of the nerves fluttering around in his stomach.


But there was a trade-off, of course. If he was going to abstain from drinking, then he absolutely was not going to go dancing. He would watch, sure, and applaud when necessary or nod approvingly if the urge took hold, but there would be no dancing for him.


Instead, Percy took to mingling with some of the other non-dancers present at the ball, eager to meet some new faces from other packs and learn what he could of them. But when Inara's flowing red dress caught his eye, it drew his attention like a fish caught on a line. As he had done that night down at Biff's Bar, he watched her dance and the world melted away all around him until she, and the music, and the candlelight were all that was left.


[WC — 310]


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#6
The dress Tessa wore was the same as the one she had on to greet their guests, however she had changed up the jewelry. This time, she had on a necklace adorned with shell pieces that shined if the light hit them just right. There was sea glass as well; originally she had planned to trade this necklace, but now that the Court was no more, it was a nice keepsake to have. She was not sure when she would get back there for more sea glass, so if she ever grew tired of this necklace, she could take the sea glass pieces and add them onto something else to keep.

Tessa carried a glass of wine as she meandered through the crowd. It was for appearances more than anything because she disliked the taste. The one glass would last her the whole night as she sipped it very slowly. Sometimes she raised the glass and only let the wine touch her tongue before lowering it again. Thankfully there was plenty of good food to take the taste out of her mouth.

She nodded to a few canines that she recognized as she went, keeping an eye out for her friends. And, if she was being honest, for her sister. Of course it was Margeaux that she found first, and since their eyes met, she couldn't just turn and walk the other way. With a suppressed sigh, Tessa resigned herself to her fate and walked over to stand with her sister. It was better than standing alone, anyway.
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#7
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Optime | Fort Kingsbury (Courthouse) | cNPC: Mako, yNPC: Genkei
(+514)


[CdC] Diplomacy Summit & Ball


As Warlord, Teagan had had her hands full between ensuring guards were where they needed to be, taking in and documenting patrol reports, and actually pulling security herself. These were on top of her duties as Ambassador for the Salsolan delegation. It had meant putting her daily lessons with her son on hold, though, the boy didn’t seem too bothered given the foreign activity within the Fort. He had accompanied her twice with her work, but, mostly, Genkei had been left in the care of his father so that she could remain focused on the work at hand.


Earlier that morning, she had stood guard with Honrin for the leaders’ meeting that had been held in the War Room. For the remainder of the day, she’d spent doing her usual duties. So, that night, Teagan had made a mental note to try to find some time for her son amongst running security.


As she was still on duty, the Warlord had worn her armor and rank cloak to the ball. Still, she had done well to clean up and make sure her fur, hair, and armor and clothes were cleaned appropriately for the occasion. She strode past her father as he greeted and welcomed everyone into the building as he usually did for ceremonies, and worked her way slowly around the large, open hall. Her canary eyes searched and watched, ensuring that there was little room for trouble to take foot with so many foreign delegates and leadership all mingling in a single place.


Amidst the Cavaliers and guests, her husband eventually found her. He was dressed similarly to herself; in his armor and rank cloak. Despite having washed his coat and polished his armor, she could still smell the familiar, comforting scent of the forge lingering on his fur. Mako had no interest in dancing or impressing anyone that night, so, donning his armor and metal meant that he could double as security while he did his fatherly duties.


Genkei eyed the various delegates and his fellow Cavaliers with a curious eye. He was used to armor and cloaks, not fancy dresses and other styles of wear. There was music too, and his nose sniffed eagerly whenever he’d catch the tantalizing scent of one of the food tables. The young Stryder’s fur, too, had been washed, and the Cavalier purple bowtie—probably Darius’ doing—around his neck gave him a small amount of flare for being un-shifted.


They were standing together when Luca finally called the room to order. When his opening speech was finished, her son turned his head up to her, his tail wagging behind him in a hopeful way. Okaasan, can we get some food together?”


Teagan let out a soft exhale and smiled, nodding. She’d had a feeling that he might want to eat first, and—this early into the night—there would be less trouble with possible drunks. The Warlord jerked her head towards one of the food tables as the band began to fill the Great Hall with music once more.





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[size=150]Teagan Stryder[/size]

#8
Finally a chance to dance with Cidro that wasn't going to be broken up by confusing feelings or misunderstandings. Cedric had been partially distracted by his duties as a guard for the New Caledonians, but once he was free he spent his time helping his love get ready. No words were needed, both understood that they'd finally have a chance to enjoy a true dance together, all feelings out in the open. Cedric was even willing to wear some clothes again, like he had for the last ball, just minus the mask. After preparing himself, which took all of a few minutes, Cedric then spent the next hour working on Cidro's hair, getting some giggles out of the smaller male as he huffed each time a braid didn't sit how he wanted it to. Finally Cedric was satisfied that Cidro's hair looked as it should, and the pair descended towards the Great Hall.

Food came first, Cedric finding a share for both himself and Cidro. He could tell his partner grew a little tense at the scent of alcohol, and steered Cidro away once he had a decent plate for the pair to share. With fuel, the dancing could begin. "I am not sure how you've improved since last time, so standing on my feet is still an option." Cedric commented, which seemed to help relax Cidro, who took up the offer to stand on the taller man's paws. They fell into a slow rhythm, Cidro leaning against him whilst Cedric's eyes moved from checking on others, to taking in the scent of Cidro's hair.

"Tu... eres hermosa." Cedric mumbled, trying to pry from his mind some of the words Cidro had taught him. He'd either got it right, or hilariously wrong, as Cidro giggled into his chest.
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#9
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[552]

After a particularly enlightening conversation with the Ursachon of Mistfell Vale, the Regent dismissed himself from her admittedly guarded company to make ready for the feast. He had no idea what to expect, the quality of entertainment, the level of finery, or particulars as to what they’d be feasting on were all of a surprise. But whether they dressed in rags, or had hired a solitary flutiest was inconsequential. Athras Eryn would look nothing but his very best.


He’d day-dreamed relentlessly the numerous twists and braids he might wind into his silken locks, and headed to their (still quite stifling) underground quarters. And there he enlisted the (reluctant) help of Fennore, a second set of eyes to make certain his part was even, the braids were symmetrical and not a hair was out of place. When they were finished Athras checked his reflection wherever he could find it, leery of potential sabotage.


His hair was half-gathered as always, but instead of his usual half-ponytail the lord switched it for an impeccable fish-tail braid. To either side of his face was smaller, slimmer braids one on either side. The rest was left lose to spill down his back and shoulders, brushed to a radiant sheen.


The clothing he wore was the same as the meeting: a long sweeping robe of russet wool, its sleeves trimmed in the fur of a red fox. Overtop he wore a dark leather vest with a high collar lined in red fox fur and a deep v-neck. It was tailored to his form, scarcely worn, it accentuated his long legs and svelte frame. Running his hand down the edges, the Lord-Regent of New Caledonia collected himself and entered the hall.


Much to his delight the hall was festive with waving banners and late blooms, the air fragrant with cooked meats, and warm from freshly tended fires. He paid heed to the Lune’s speech, clapping along politely with the crowd before descending upon the dining tables with the ravenous hunger of someone who’d been long denied the satiation of dark, delicious meat. The Shoal were excellent fishermen and women, however their bounty of fish seemed never-ending and Athras felt absolutely deprived of the pleasure of feasting on the flesh of the sons and daughters of Nanin. He ate his fill, and then some more with all the restrained composure of a noble son. When at last his belly was full with too much food, he withdrew, swiping a drink from a near-by table without so much as losing a step.


Inara caught his eye, her dress perfectly tailored to her form her hair curled and bouncing with her every (surprisingly graceful) step. He raised his cup to her with an enigmatic smile and watched her weave her abundant curves through intricate steps in rhythm to the music. She was hardly his quarry, but he found himself intrigued despite this. Her talent was merely informed before now but to see it in action was a confirmation of skill. Perhaps the gypsy was worth a fraction of his time. He drained his cup, feeling the warmth slide down his gullet and discarded it on the nearest surface. He headed her way, slipping through the crowd like liquid shadow, to bow ever so slightly forward. “Miss Ailurus, may I have this dance?”

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#10
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OOC :: PP approved by all referenced parties. <3
Words→ 791
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Nayavota kneeled in the grass in front of her mama, the elder’s timeworn hands twisting her hair into delicate braids. She had no one to impress at the dance—except, perhaps, herself—but she still wanted to look her best. A simple, crown braid wrapped around her head wasn’t enough, even though it had served her well during guard duty; Naya wanted something fancier.

Mama cleared her throat and tugged on a half-finished braid, her other hand pressed against the Officer’s back. ”Sorry!” Nayavota said, straightening up. The warrior woman chuckled and continued working, tying the individual braids into a long, complicated rope of hair down her daughter’s back. She tucked a handful of loose strands into the finished braid and hummed approvingly. ”All done?” Naya asked, glancing over her shoulder.

”Almost,” Mama replied, picking up a handful of autumn flowers from the bag at her feet. ”Stay still.” She tucked the fresh blooms into Nayavota’s hair and clucked her tongue. Now it’s all done. Get up, we still have to clean up camp before—” Her mouth snapped shut as Luca howled to summon the pack. The elder glared in the direction of the Fort for a few seconds, but smiled when Naya kissed her cheek.

”I’ll finish getting da boys ready. Tanks for da help,” Nayavota said, pushing herself to her feet. She squeezed her mama’s shoulder and limped off to the other side of camp, where Lotai and Kjindrah were rolling in the grass. Naya plucked tiny, green seeds from their fur while her parents worked; she’d managed to keep them out of the dirt after their bath, but not much else.

As the last seed was pulled from Lotai’s and Kjindrah’s fur, the Officer’s rank cloak was dropped onto her shoulders. ”Tanks, Honrin,” she said, her brother’s shadow disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Naya stood as her sons bounded after him—straightening her sky blue, beaded necklace with one hand—and limped toward the Fort.

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Nayavota inhaled as she stepped inside the Courthouse, the scent of cooked meat and strong alcohol filling her nose. She flashed Luca a toothy grin as her sons barreled past him, mouthing a quick “sorry” as she followed them; he had seven children, and even Teagan couldn’t have been much better at their age. The great hall was already full of chatting packmates and delegates, but Naya wasn’t surprised—most of them had been in the Fort when Luca howled.

The Officer watched the leaders and their chosen few closely, even as she wandered around the room and made small talk with her friends and family. She knew better than to lose herself in the night before it had even begun. There would be plenty of time for drinking and dancing after she’d kept an eye on their guests. The more logical parts of Nayavota told her she shouldn’t be drinking at all, not with strangers in the Fort, but she knew the value of her youth; no one would judge her for a cup or two.

As all eyes shifted to the silenced musicians, Nayavota chatted idly with Cedric and Cidro. She turned to listen to Luca’s speech, her head resting against her brother’s arm, but found her gaze drifting. Lotai sat underneath a pair of large banners, entranced by a pair of delegates across the room: a red-eyed, almost woody woman and her large, scarred companion. Elphaba and O’Riley, the last luperci Naya wanted him talking to. Lotai tapped his front paws in nervous anticipation, but Mama swept him away before he could act on it.

The crowd began to clap around her, and Nayavota’s head shot up as Luca disappeared into it. She had only half heard his speech, but she supposed that was better than not hearing it at all. Naya rubbed her face against Cedric’s arm and squeezed Cidro’s shoulder before departing for the feast tables; Kjindrah was already bouncing at Papa’s side, eyes wide as a proverbial mountain of food was heaped onto “his” plate, with Mama and Lotai following suit a few steps away.

As the Officer filled her own plate, she caught her dark son’s stolen glances across the room. There was something otherworldly about Salsolans, an air of confidence that came from being wholly different to those around them, and it needled at the back of her mind. Why was it so familiar? Nayavota sighed as Lotai bumped against her leg, a questioning look on his face. She supposed it didn’t matter; she had food to eat, dances to dance, and children to attend to.

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#11
[html]


Dawn Hushhowl


Dawn had looked out of sorts for most of the day, snowy hair pulled into a messy bun, the tasks of the day seemed to drag on with Armani out patrolling. Without the dark woman by her side time seemed to slow to a near stop. The dance was something to look forward too, along with all the amazing food that had been prepared. The most prominent thought in her mind driving her through the day was, at the end of it all, she would be able to spend time with Armani.



Returning back to the room she shared with her love, it was clear to see Armani was having troubles deciding on clothing. For Dawn this was easy, she only owned one formal dress and for now it would have to make due. Dawn had an idea in mind when it came to the hairstyle she would choose. There were only so many ways one could braid their hair, and for such a special occasion she wanted to leave her hair down. For the most part at least.



They were going to be late, but being late didn't matter to Dawn. With Armani at her side, the idea of time and personal space seemed to fade away. A smile graced her features, silver fingers laced between the dark digits of her loves as they made their way to the party.



Silver-hands finally let go of the darker ones it had been clutching, only to take her seat within the dining hall. The array of foods sprawling the table, the different scents. It was enchanting, not only did they go the whole nine yards with the meal, the hall had been beautifully decorated. Dawn had only taken a few small items to nibble on as the music started. Her stomach was tossing and turning, this was the first formal event that she was officially with Armani, and she had wanted things to go perfectly.





@Marie - Hope this is okay! If you need anything changed let me know <3 | There are references from this thread | Hairstyle and Dress 000+
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