United Together We Stand

Levent Kartal · 06-15-2012, 10:01 PM

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(425) Gettin' in my post before vacation. Also, Wilson is probably hiding in a corner and freaking out, or he might just be outside. And yes, a Wayne is there and is grumpy and probably only dancing with Dixie. :|

Levent and Wilson are by me!

Levent knew little about this alliance with the honorable warrior pack, but he could not complain about the opportunities such an occasion brought. His newly-chosen pack would be safer than ever with a large band of goody-goody mercenaries (most of whom were giants compared to the short male, especially if the handsome dark leader was anything to go by) standing nearby with their non-sword arms outstretched in friendship. His and Wilson's positions would be secure for that much longer, as long as he didn't do anything to screw this up -- and he had no intention of doing that. He liked Cercatori d'Arte and was glad to share the prosperity.

It was also a great occasion for getting to know his pack mates. He'd seen most of them from a distance by now, but his loner's nature meant that he hadn't acquainted himself with a lot of them. Well, besides Hotaru. His ears fell back into his dark mess of hair, and he did his best not to steal a glance at her. He'd get a better idea of what had happened between them and how he felt about it (besides exhilirated, and unbelieving, and scared), but now was not the time.

Now was the time to schmooze.

After flirting with some of the musicians, almost getting the violinist to drop his bow in the scramble to keep composure, Levent scanned the giant table of gifts. He could only imagine what he'd do with most of those treasures, but he suppressed his greed long enough to step toward it. The old human bow balanced against his chest, the wine bottles in his hands and arms, he managed to get there without incident and placed the treasures there. Though the wine might not make it the rest of the night.

All he could do now was go back and drift through the crowd, introduce himself politely, leaving an imprint as the foreigner with the silly bow. Eventually, he'd break off with another d'Artisan or Cavalier and make friends if they were interesting enough. He'd eat what delicacies he could stomach, poke around the gift table, and avoid the alcohol at risk of WIlson materializing from the shadows and tearing out his liver for him. He grinned at the thought, unbuttoning the top of his white dress shirt to let his pendant from Budapest show, and moseyed on over to a mongrel cowboy sulking at the corner of the grand ballroom.

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