Forum Thread

"It's lovely meeting you too, Miss Ying. How goes the night for you? Nothing eventful so far, I'm sure." Otto startled slightly at the sound of a voice behind him. Truly, living long in isolation would do that to do, he thought to himself crossly as he regained his composure. "Greetings to you, too, sir." He nodded. "It would be my greatest pleasure to pour you a glass. Please excuse me for a moment, Miss Ying." He took a nearby bottle, nearly empty he noted, and poured the gentleman a glass.

Oh, how she wanted the darkness to swallow her whole.

She took a deep breath, in and out, closing her eyes, shut tight.

God's, Ophelia hated parties. But it's not like she had anything else to do.

Nothing else to do. Not anymore, that is. Not since...

She took another shaking breath, gaze flickering over the room. She flexed her fingers, and a glass of wine flickered into existence between her index and middle fingers.

She brought it to her lips, taking a slow sip.

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"It's lovely meeting you too, Miss Ying. How goes the night for you? Nothing eventful so far, I'm sure." Otto startled slightly at the sound of a voice behind him. Truly, living long in isolation would do that to do, he thought to himself crossly as he regained his composure. "Greetings to you, too, sir." He nodded. "It would be my greatest pleasure to pour you a glass. Please excuse me for a moment, Miss Ying." He took a nearby bottle, nearly empty he noted, and poured the gentleman a glass.
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"You as well" she nodded "The night is quite pleasant though there are quite a few rowdy people" she added noting the few tipsy people staggering around the hall.

Mriye looked around. He thought most of the guests were drinking too much. He definitely couldn't handle drunk vampires. Better get away while they were still civil.

He saw some going into the other rooms. Surely, he could as well. He wandered for a bit. Everyone seemed occupied with something. He saw someone else. He didn't recognise the vampire. They had lavender hair that covered much of their face.

He decided to strike up a conversation. It was risky, but he couldn't just wander around the whole time. "Greetings.", He called out. "I believe we haven't met. I'm Mriye Safayir."

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Flagram accepted the glass from Otto and examined it closely. He gave it a delicate sniff before tasting it. As soon as the wine hit his tongue, Flagram could tell that it was of far superior quality compared to the masquerade’s own refreshment. The vintage was perfectly aged and had the metallic taste indicative of the grapes having been watered with blood. Flagram was impressed by the skill of this winemaker, especially after the decadence and degeneracy he observed in many of the other guests. After draining his glass, Flagram turned back to Otto and gave him a slight bow.

“My thanks for the refreshment, I compliment your artisanship.”

"Your pleasure is mine, sir." Otto tipped his hat in return, placing the now empty bottle to the side. He kept a diligent eye on the intoxicated guests as they stumbled about. He noted the ways they bared their teeth at each other, the way their suave words had become passive-aggressive. This certainly wasn't what I wanted. He thought to himself but he would admit, it was amusing. Affluent and prosperous royalty reduced to frenzied sparrows fighting over feed. He'd have to tinker on his ideas when he returned home.

She could start to see other members of the masquerade interact with eachother, although she was never one to follow a crowd. However, she had to admit that she was getting bored of this table... she sighed. Stuffing the teacup carefully in her pocket, after all, you would almost never come across one as intricate and ornate as this in the parts she came from, she stood up to relocate...

At the other end of the table near the fire.

Some habits don't change after all. She looked around at all the people again, dancing, having fun. She was much too quiet to partake in these activities, although that didn't mean she didn't want to.

---

She shivers, the shadows of the corner make her colder than she would like, yet she doesn't exactly wish to be seen by other people. She sighs as she moves from the shadowed corner to take a seat on the couch by the fire. She wishes she had the courage, wishes she could speak without stuttering and embarrassing herself. Yet, she remains lonely in this crowded place. Even so much as the thought of someone saying hello to her makes her jump. I think I'm cursed or something, even the others who seemed shy have found someone to talk to. She looks around watching other people interact before adjusting the wolf mask that sits upon her pale complexion and smoothing out the pleats on her emerald dress.

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Ophelia paused, before bringing the glass to her lips once more.

She closed hr eyes, taking another deep breath.

Ophelia could hear her voice in the back of her mind, whispered accusations gnawing at the back of her mind.

She released a shuddering breath.

"No."

She muttered to herself, shaking her head, clearing her mind of the haze, burying her voice.

She downed the rest of the glass, drowning her sorrows.

This was really good wine.

---

After drinking the wine, Flagram felt… different. The taste of the liquor lingered on his tongue for far longer than normal. The hint of blood in this aftertaste was truly intoxicating. It must have been extracted from the finest warriors of mortal men in order to taste so fresh and full of vigor. This vital spirit in the drink called to Flagram, and he nearly became besotted by it. The cold flame within Flagram began to flare: He could almost hear the wailing of the tormented spirits in the fiery torrent. However, Flagram still retained his patience even when blinded by bloodlust. His flames remained contained within his flesh and his calm facade remained. However he no longer sat at leisure silently opining on the other guests, but rather gazing as a serpent would, eagerly waiting for the chance to lunge.

"Indeed. Such an... interesting and unique flavour."

Ldeya tilted her head curiously as she examined the liquid swirling in her glass, a slight smile of amusement playing on her lips. She closed her eyes to savour the taste, before they opened again, focusing on the lady with the bunny mask who had procured such a treasure.

Perhaps it was simply a trick of the candlelight, but one could almost swear her eyes narrowed for a split second, smile turning into a dangerous smirk.

Oh, don't be paranoid.

After all, shouldn't one always be delighted that they had captured her attention? That they were able to entertain the bored little child, please the nonchalant beauty?

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Covered eyes shielded from the ostentatious reflections of wealth blinked open under the cover of darkness. The familiar feeling of someone else using his eyes to cast his gaze across the room didn't even register to him, letting his feet slip beside a familiar station, behind another lord. It was instinctual, nothing more than his years of service guiding his actions as he slowed to a stop behind a lady whose swan feathered mask did nothing to dampen the age old power that he had unconsciously followed. Usually it was quite reliable, always leading him back to his Master but his momentary lapse of concentration instead lead him to someone else entirely.

Granted, there weren't many who were as old as his Master which only left only a few identities to narrow down but that wasn't on his mind currently. His only mind could only process that there was someone his superior who was in need of assistance. It only seemed natural that he would extend his in return, his Master not objecting in the slightest. And so, he stepped beside Lady Shieta, bowing his head in deference.

"Good evening, Milady. This one hopes that the night hasn't overstayed its welcome?"

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