Honey, I think the toaster has gained sentience

P. Athras | Leadership Ball

POSTED: Fri Nov 01, 2019 7:43 pm

There were a great number of things that Percival Parhelion enjoyed, such as warm evenings out on the water and the musky scent of Pim's dusty hide and the way that the stars shimmered in the inky night sky. But there were also things that the young Diplomat did not find to be quite so enjoyable and, chief among them (and especially where liquor was involved), were boisterous places and events such as bars and dances and balls.

Shifting his weight, the scruffy wolfdog cast his nutmeg eyes at the patrons within the ballroom and searched for a familiar face. There were more strangers in this place, he realized, than there were friends or trusted allies and the realization made him purse his dark lips tightly.

Unbidden, he thought of all that was different between this ball and the Court's masquerade. But the more he thought and the more he interpreted, the more he argued with himself until, with an acute sense of awareness, he found that there wasn't much difference at all. No, instead, if there was any difference at all, then then difference was in him. He had changed. He was different. Somehow, without his consent or cognizance, he had changed.

He had grown. For better or for worse, he had grown.

As the thought took root and planted itself firmly within his mind, Percival caught sight of a familiar face and breathed out a sigh of relief. "Lord-Regent," he addressed Athras politely as he approached. "Are you enjoying yourself here?"

OOC: Kept the timing vague, but feel free to decide if this takes place before or after Athras dances with Inara. c:

[WC — 257]


New Caledonia
Aear
User avatar
Mandi
Luperci Diplomat II, Piscator I we were infinite; there was no time in those days They stole my dirty socks... :(
timshel

POSTED: Thu Nov 14, 2019 10:57 pm

[392] • I imagine this happens later in the night, given how much he's had to drink. Definitely long after he and Inara danced. "I'm not as think as you drunk I am."

Another dance, another round of drinks, and the night was still young. The Lord-Regent, despite the many stipulations upon his presence here, the wishes of his mysterious benefactors, lost himself to the swell of the music, the bob of heads and hitch of hips: a mass of writhing limbs, his nostrils filled with the warmth of fragrant meats and burning logs. It was stifling, but teeming with life. The drink slid down his gullet warm, it’s taste long lost to the volume collecting in his stomach. It’d been too long since he’d indulged, really given himself over to thrill of community, to live life to it’s very fullest. For what better time was there to be alive, truly alive.

He contemplated this with whatever coherent thoughts he could muster, but soon found the music an ever-increasing distraction as his vision blurred, his perspective altogether too fast and too slow. Dizzy, he shook his head, hoping to make sense of the blurred shapes and flickering lights. His title he heard as an echo and squinted to make sense of wiry haired shape that came in and out of focus striding towards him. His ears tipped forward much too late and his head bobbed a little as he clutched the table behind him for support. “Percival?” He blinked the young man into existence. “Yes. Percival!” He greeted jovially. “Come here, come. Come!” He gestured widely for the man to draw nearer inviting him in closer and closer. “Come! I have something to show you. Come here, Percival. Come!”

Whether or not Percival did as he was bidden, Athras— with difficulty— managed to prop one of his long dark legs on a bench. He fussed with the hem of his robes, parting them beneath the dark leather vest and hiking them up and up one side all the way up to his hip. There he caught the wolfdog’s eye and tipped a finger to his lips in the universal command of “shhh.” His smile was impish, mirth twinkling in unfocused eyes as he revealed what was plainly an ornamental leather belt where hung an antlered dagger.

The lord positively giggled, the sound bubbling up wet and sloppy, finger still to his lips. He let the fabric fall heavy, the robe no longer quite so pristine a fold caught beneath the leather vest and his leg.

Athras
New Caledonia
The Lord-Regent
User avatar
Stormie
Luperci Priest I, Diplomat I, Rogue I

POSTED: Wed Nov 20, 2019 7:50 pm

That heavy, sinking feeling often encountered in moments of instant regret slipped straight down into Percival stomach and sat there like a stone. If the sway of the Lord-Regent's movements or the bobbing of his head weren't indication enough, the sweet and acrid smell on his breath when Athras opened his mouth was enough to convince Percy that the man who had been sent to Casa as the lead ambassador of New Caledonia was good and utterly plastered.

There seemed to be confusion at first, or perhaps uncertainty, and for half a moment Percival had it in his mind to deny Athras' guess was correct, turn abruptly on his heel, and quickly inject himself into someone else's conversation to lose his inebriated Lord-Regent. Or, in case that didn't work, conjure up some sort of distraction (perhaps by pointing behind Athras while gasping, "Look!" before dashing into the crowd the moment his attention was diverted?) to buy him enough time to get away.

But the bearded Parhelion was not an especially cunning man, and deceit was not a skill he was particularly cut out for. And besides, Athras seemed to have settled for himself that the figure standing before him was precisely who he thought he was and was urging him, in wide motions that Percival was worried would draw unnecessary attention, to come here, come, come, come.

Resigned to his defeat, visibly obvious in the drawn look to his face and the way his shoulders now sagged, Percy did as his Lord-Regent commanded and drew closer and closer to him. What the man did next was initially confounding, and then mildly discomforting, and then moderately awkward, and then instantly horrifying.

Eyes like saucers, Percival's jaw drooped and he sucked in a breath, then shifted his body in front of Athras in an attempt to shield any prying eyes from the item that should have been safely tucked away in the Cavalieri's armory. "Oh, gods, what—" He cut himself off and quickly lowered his voice, making discreet gestures with is hands for the Lord-Regent to put his robes down and cover the thing up again. "What are you doing with that?" he hissed, glancing around them out of his periphery for any evidence that someone, anyone, was watching them.

"That should have been... It was..." With a long-suffering inhale, Percival pinched the skin between his eyes and exhaled it slowly again. "How did you get that?"

OOC: :') oh man oh man

[WC — 416]


New Caledonia
Aear
User avatar
Mandi
Luperci Diplomat II, Piscator I we were infinite; there was no time in those days They stole my dirty socks... :(
timshel

POSTED: Thu Dec 12, 2019 4:42 pm

[483]

Percival’s form continued to distort, dispersing and re-forming with every minute motion of Athras’s head. His expressions were muddled, each change of his face dawning on the lord all too slowly, drawing out the moment far longer than its reality. A portion of his mind did interject, a small voice that maintained this course of action was unwise, that he could be caught, but it was ultimately lost to sensation, to heat, and music, to light, and life.

He did not feel the sourness of his stomach, nor smell the acridness of his own breath, and saw only Percival for the young man’s face was all his eyes could seize. Gone was the rational mind, a thing of intricate subtleties and cleverness that secured aid for a people dashed and fallen to brutal conflict. Awake and thriving was the fickle young man who’d first given himself to the temptations of taste, and of flesh: rebellion provoked by a betrothal doomed from the start. The devils of Athras’s nature were on full display, a dagger short of a diplomatic incident.

Percival’s eyes widened, jaw sinking and in vain Athras searched for a sign of levity. His own grin faltered filtering slowly into confusion as his brows knit. He blinked, failing to comprehend, and for a moment that small voice grew louder.

The bearded man shielded the scattered crowd from the sight of him, and Athras blinked again, perhaps comically. Both his feet were firmly upon the ground like before, though define firmly? His every motion was exaggerated as if he were moving too fast and the world, too slow. Percival sighed, asking questions that took Athras much too long to answer, but when he did it was with a returning smile that gained swiftly in brilliance, unapologetic and gleeful. “It’ss mine.” He slurred, “I took it back. They touched it, they sshhouldn’t have done that.” He shook his head for emphasis, but the motion made him dizzy. And he reached out gracelessly for support.

The more he thought, attempting to reason and rationalize, the darker his countenance became. “It’ss mine!” He growled dangerously, and all at once his thoughts bounded through a forest of ash. Anger brewed up hot and vile to be doused just as quickly as he slumped forward, oblivious to the toll it took on his inebriated body.

When he straightened it was with difficulty, “what were we talking about?” Confused, he swayed a little. “I fffound their armory, and watched the guards.” The shrug he gave was exaggerated and he seemed perplexed that Percival would ask him such a question.

Another shake of his head was perhaps more detrimental than beneficial. It stirred his stomach in an awful way and he grasped it uncomfortably. When it passed his eyes were twinkling with mirth. "You and Innarra, mmm...??" The lord grinned, pointing at Percival unsteadily, and revealed, "I ssaw you dancinng."

Athras
New Caledonia
The Lord-Regent
User avatar
Stormie
Luperci Priest I, Diplomat I, Rogue I

POSTED: Sun Jan 05, 2020 6:57 pm

When Athras at last replied, after a kaleidoscope of shifting expressions that almost appeared exacerbated by the gentle swaying of his drunken posture, it was through slurred words that blew a fresh puff of acrid halitosis Percival's way with every syllable. The bridge of the Parhelion's nose crinkled and he held his breath, silently wondering what he had done to offend the gods so deeply that they would subject him to such torment.

Instinctively, Percy lifted his arms in support when it seemed the Lord-Regent was about to take a spill. "Okay. Shh! Okay, okay, so it is!" he hissed, eager to prevent Athras from accidentally revealing exactly what it was that was his. Inwardly, he kicked himself for asking such a pointed question and expecting a surreptitious response in return. Lifting his hand to his face, Percival pinched the skin between his brows and tried to center himself. He would have to broach the subject more once Athras was sober. "Just..." A sigh slipped between his lips and he focused his nutmeg eyes on the man again, their depths filled with hopeless long-suffering. "Just keep it... covered up."

When Athras spoke again, the subject of his curiosity caused Percival to stiffen. Like a stone, his heart dropped into his stomach and the world seemed to tilt just a little. The Parhelion swallowed and furrowed his brows more deeply. "What about us?" he asked, surprised he could form words with his mouth so devoid of moisture. Intent on saving face, Percival put on his best attempt at nonchalance and smoothed his beard between his fingers. "So?" he began. "We're at a ball."

How could Athras know anything when Percy was still figure it out himself? Still... that he couldn't quiet the increased fluttering of his heartbeat or make the heat cool from his cheeks and his ears was telling.

[WC — 315]


New Caledonia
Aear
User avatar
Mandi
Luperci Diplomat II, Piscator I we were infinite; there was no time in those days They stole my dirty socks... :(
timshel

POSTED: Tue Jan 14, 2020 4:28 pm

[385]Please hit him.

The young man was quick to support him and Athras was prevented from toppling over by deceptively strong hands. Steadied, though he didn’t feel it, his brows furrowed to regain sight, or as much as he could hope to. His vision still swam, making vague halos out of soft candlelight. The shadows were playing tricks on him, ones he was not savvy to in his current state. They momentarily confused him as they seemed to triple the bodies on the dance floor like shades of intangible life, some big, some smaller. The furrow in his brow deepened.

It was as if Percival spoke from a great distance, but miraculously Athras acknowledged the wisdom in his words, wary now of the menacing and multiplying shapes that lingered just on the edge of vision. “I sh-should.” He did not want to provoke them, for he knew the dangers that lurked in shadow. Intimately.

His moods shifted quickly, faster even than they were prone to do. As if all he had done that night was appearing to him in flashes, out of time and out of place. His grin was not entirely kind, though it was jovial in a sense. “You don’t— don’t dance.” The lord said, having read the man as a wallflower, and he was quite confident in his assessment— as addled as his mind was. He tilted his head but overdid it, its angle a little too sharp. He was studying Percival. His grin widened and without warning he clapped the man on the shoulder. It was ineffectual, for the Eryn lord wasn’t a burly nor particularly muscular man. He was wood and wind, shadow and earth, and possessed a build suited more for stealth and speed. But at the present time he was neither stealthy nor particularly speedy.

“She’s a g-good dancer.” He said of Inara. Slowly, his gaze traveled the floor blurring and drifting in and out of focus before it found its target. “Very,” he began to make an unflattering shape with his hands. “Ss-sturdy.” His grin was no less wicked and he chuckled. “I mean if that’s-s what you like, that’s-s what you like. I’m not-not one to judge.” The smile was bright and full of teeth. He seemed to be thrilled with his own jest, laughing purely at Percival’s expense.

Athras
New Caledonia
The Lord-Regent
User avatar
Stormie
Luperci Priest I, Diplomat I, Rogue I

Casa di Cavalieri