Fantasy 𝓝𝓸𝔁 𝓐𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓪.

[Uniko]

location: Dupont Ballroom

setting: one of the oldest structures since Noxium's founding, Dupont Ballroom is a building of prestige and grandeur, with stain glassed windows, dark marble floors and velvet winding staircases that will lead you down to the main hall where where the event awaits...

objective: mingle, eat, contribute a sizable sum to charity should you like, as you await for the main announcement to start. those not in formal attire will not be permitted entry.

"There is always some truth, drenched in blood."

It is always a grand occasion, when the citizens of Noxium are bestowed the honor of being within the same vicinity as one of the four notable houses of Noxium. But it is more momentous when graced with the presence of all the families at the same time.

Tonight, you are invited to one of the biggest events of the century. The Montarac Clan and Osbourne family have decided to come together for an unforeseen rare moment, to host a charity ball to raise funds for the disenfranchised folk who are without home and proper shelter within the city. And while not an unusual reason to host a ball—this will be the first time in the history of Noxium that such an event will be hosted by both the Montarac’s and Osbourne's. There are whispers and chatter amongst the people that this ball is more than just for charity...

"We hope that you enjoy this special event and mingle with your fellow peers, associates and everything in between—please, enjoy the generous blood infused champagne flutes, succulent meats for the most ravenous, and hearty dishes of various cuisuines galore as we raise the funds necessary to help those in need. You may place your bids at the door to the ballroom attendant. While not a priority, the largest contributor will earn bragging rights for the rest of the year."

And while you enjoy your drink, and feast with those you truly detest, we are coming, and tonight, will spell the beginning of the end for Noxium.

Episode I: Requiem of the end.

code: @s e v e n​

​

Spoiler: In case you can not read the plot post!

It is always a grand occasion, when the citizens of Noxium are bestowed the honor of being within the same vicinity as one of the four notable houses of Noxium. But it is more momentous when graced with the presence of all the families at the same time.

Tonight, you are invited to one of the biggest events of the century. The Montarac Clan and Osbourne family have decided to come together for an unforeseen rare moment, to host a charity ball to raise funds for the disenfranchised folk who are without home and proper shelter within the city. And while not an unusual reason to host a ball—this will be the first time in the history of Noxium that such an event will be hosted by both the Montarac’s and Osbourne's. There are whispers and chatter amongst the people that this ball is more than just for charity...

"We hope that you enjoy this special event and mingle with your fellow peers, associates and everything in between—please, enjoy the generous blood infused champagne flutes, succulent meats for the most ravenous, and hearty dishes of various cuisines galore as we raise the funds necessary to help those in need. You may place your bids at the door to the ballroom attendant. While not a priority, the largest contributor will earn bragging rights for the rest of the year."

And while you enjoy your drink, and feast with those you truly detest, we are coming, and tonight, will spell the beginning of the end for Noxium.

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

No one yet

mentions:

Vanya, Veronika, Victor, and Ilyas

location:

Dupont Ballroom

tags:

Horror

Charity. For the Montaracs were all for giving back, and sometimes they were for giving up. Like their only daughter for instance. First the Victor fiasco and now this. Now do not be confused, Viviana Montarac was not one to believe in love, she did not yearn for a happily ever after (partially because she doubted such a laughable thing could be achieved), and all she wanted was to be able to dictate her life. Ilyas, though attractive and certainly not the worst suitor in Noxium, was not her choice, he was the choice of her darling parents. Despite their complete disregard for her wants and desires, she would stand graciously and be grateful they selected her to be the first to marry. Clearly, they had plans for her; she did not know herself.


Sigh.

The champagne flute she had in her grasp was tilted upward violently as she finished its contents in one gulp. Handing it off to a nearby server.

Viviana had long perfected pleasing her parents publicly and doing as she pleased privately. This was no different, if she told herself this then it would be true. All she had to do was rethink the situation to regain control and behave accordingly for the remainder of the night. They are here for you. She wasn’t entirely wrong in that thought, the guests of this charity event were here to honor her…..and Ilyas. Viviana’s expression then altered into something more confident, prideful even.

Speaking of Ilyas, it was best she locate her beloved before the heads of their households made the announcement. They would need to be seen together; now whether the two saw that as fortunate or unfortunate was up to interpretation. The silver-haired vixen made her way through the sea of partygoers, heels clacking against the marbled floors, the train on her dress remained untouched as people parted to make room for her as she began her search for Ilyas. He shouldn’t be that hard to find, that scar could be seen by even the dullest eye.

Viviana

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[Horror]

Vanya Montarac

mood.

Overjoyed

[/comment]

location.

The Montarac Estate

tags.

Wxnter

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The little mouse. Tiny and waxen, the dome fitted within the median of his palm. Ivory eyes dipped down to glare within the empty black voids of the thing he held. It looked back unto him, inky bottomless pits of a soul taken precipitously—he could hear aught else but its echoes. It was a ghostly lament that cursed him, damned him to hell for daring to breach its grave and pulling its slumbering soul from the earth’s gentle hold.

The little mouse. It was a title of affection, one that could only be begotten from a parent’s love. It was a title given to the son of the famous film star, Charlie Chaplin, to his son who lost themselves to debility a mere three days after its birth. Freshly retrieved from its grave miles away on his order, he now held the things skull in his hand.

The progeny’s dome was a macabre piece of jewelry, gleaming with a morbid beauty in the luster of the room's embers. It had been carefully refitted and decorated, the ivory bone polished to a glossy sheen, and adorned with tiny gems in deep violet, like dewdrops on a midnight rose. Its eyesockets were deep and mysterious and seemed to hold a thousand secrets within the depths of their darkness. The skull hung from metal rings, to serve as a pendant for a thin golden chain. A perfect gift for his perfect wife.

Vanya was a vision of grandeur, his regal obsidian robe adorning him like a glittering tapestry of wealth and power. The luxurious garment was decorated with delicate gold specks and a large dazzling gilded collar that sat proudly around his neck. His sleeves were adorned with ornate silver cuffs, dazzlingly bright in the light and adding to the majestic splendor of his wear.

His hands adjusted his robe, tugging slightly at the fabric to make sure it was draped correctly, and he ran his fingers over the gold specs that decorated it. He took extra care with the gilded collar and the silver cuffs, making sure each piece was in its rightful place. He stood back and admired his reflection. The edges of his lips jolted skyward and he was pleased with the regal facsimile that matched his gaze.

Vanya stole out of his room, and into the grand hallway of the family manor. It was as if they had been transported to another realm of morbid beauty and eerie stillness. His eyes were alight with a strange fervor, and his ashen hair was swept back from his face, framing his pale features in an almost ghostly way. The hallway was lined with taxidermy animals, their embittered marble eyes abraded his form—immediately latching onto him with effrontery stitched into their hides. A cat, a lion, a lynx, and even the bear he had received from his beloved wife twisted their faces at him in a rictus of fury. His laugh was deep and ravening, it echoed against their many empty halls and rebounded into their foyer. He would not allow them to drag the pure beautiful day down to their level of ugliness.

Finally, he reached the end of the hallway and stepped out into the main foyer. It was filled with decorations and trinkets, each one carefully placed to bring a unique element to the room. In the center of it all, was a small decorative table, upon which was perched a beautiful white dog. Its fur was long and luxurious, giving it a stately winsomeness, and its eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. Its long tail wagged as it watched Vanya enter the room, and it seemed to be smiling in anticipation of its master's arrival.

The vampire blinked and the dog stilled, the life drained from the phantom’s body in a heartbeat. In its place lurked an inanimate taxidermy depicting a mutt with the revenant’s shadow. Vanya remembered that day, how he toiled to transform the dull corpse into an image of perfect stillness, forever protected from the trappings of time. He remembered how his efforts went thankless and he felt the old cinders of anger he entombed flicker afresh once more.

Vanya's gaze settled on the figure in the doorway, and he felt his heart swell with love. His wife stood there, her white hair cascading down her shoulders and framing her beautiful face. Vanya felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment wash over him, and he couldn't help but smile. He was so lucky to have found such a beautiful, kind-hearted soul to share his life with, and he thanked his lucky stars every day. He could never express the depth of his love and gratitude, but he could feel it in every fiber of his being.

Vanya stepped closer to his wife, and he could feel his heart skip a beat as he looked into her eyes. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and then he reached around her neck to fasten the necklace. His fingers brushed against her skin, and his heart was warm. He stepped back and admired her, feeling a swell of pride in his chest. He could never express the depths of his love for her, but he hoped that this small gesture would show her just how deeply his feelings ran. “My moon. My one, my only.” His voice was inundated with an unwieldy reverence that bled through every vowel.

Vanya reached out and tenderly grasped his wife's hand in his own. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her palm. He lingered there for a moment, savoring the warmth and softness of her skin, before letting her hand go and looking into her eyes. He smiled, a wide and contented expression, and spoke, "Shall we be off?”

-->

 

[MisaMai]

Emile had gotten to the venue early. Perhaps sitting in his car for an additional 30 minutes before the event started while wearing a tailcoat and tie was a bit gouache, but the earlier he arrived the earlier he could leave. Besides, nothing quite stilled the spirit like Mozart and the speakers in his car were quite good. Of course, had he not sat in his car for 30 minutes, his tails may appear crisper than they currently did, but he didn’t mind a bit of rumple in his appearance from time to time. He already cut a cleaner figure than most people his age, a few wrinkles didn’t seem like such a terrible thing when compared to that. Better wrinkles on the coat than on his face, after all.

At 7:59 precisely, Emile got out of his car, checked twice that it was locked, and walked into the building, arriving at the doors to the ballroom at exactly 8:00. To his understanding, this was when the event was meant to start. The fact that the doors had already been open and there were a few people already inside did not give him a good first impression of the even, but he supposed not everyone was aware of how important punctuality could actually be. Where would the world be if things hadn’t happened exactly when they were meant to? Of course, the world kept and entirely different schedule than most people, so perhaps everything had started on time. Or perhaps he had simple misremembered the time. One of the truest tragedies of a mortal mind: forgetting.

Since that time, Emile had been keeping quite to himself at a small table he had tried to inconspicuously move further towards a corner of the room. It was a nice party, he would give them that. He had already made a small donation with the attendant, a rather nice man named Eric who had a jaw that could cut glass, and was enjoying his third glass of champagne. He had downed the first two rather two quickly to take an edge off the nerves and was savoring the third. Maybe he could cradle that glass for another hour until he grabbed a fourth. Maybe…

The only thing taking his attention away from people watching, which was absolutely fascinating in a place like this, was Delori. His younger brother had not answered a text message earlier and that had him…worried is not quite the right word but perplexed certainly hits the spot. The boy was likely getting ready for the party somewhere. It was the somewhere of the statement that had him concerned. If anyone knew how to get into trouble, it was Delori. He didn’t worry about Eleanor nearly as much, she actually seemed to keep a good head on her shoulders. Emile sighed, taking another small sip of champagne and enjoying the rush of bubbles traveling along his spine and up to his brain. Perhaps he should have eaten something first.

the book keeper

Emile.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Onyx (still open for interaction)

mentions:

Marcel and Onyx

location:

Dupont Ballroom

tags:

Uniko

Stuffy ass events like this just weren’t up his alley. Why the everloving fuck did they need to host an event in order to give money to the less fortunate? Leave it to the bloodsuckers (and that other family) to go overboard for even the simplest of tasks. And God did he hate having to wear a suit.

Roman had to suppress an eye roll.


Well if he hated formal events with every fiber of his angry being, then why was he prompt and present one might ask. The food obviously, with a dash of Marcel. Alright, mainly Marcel. Roman would never allow the alpha to attending an event alone, and it wasn’t because he questioned his leader’s physical prowess, no, but because there was safety in numbers.

Alright back to the food.

Because it was damn good; for creatures that didn’t have a regular diet the Montaracs and Osbournes knew how to select a menu. The hors d'oeuvre that Roman was currently tasting, some small cut of steak with a lemon-flavored remoulade, was so delectable that he was holding the server hostage, couldn’t allow him to share the goods with the other partygoers now, could he?

“Please sir I have to attend to the other guest…” begged the server, honestly he didn’t care to provide nourishment to the other attendees, he simply wanted to get away from the beta and his companion. “Sir?” Roman repeated, his features twisting into a look of distaste. The silver platter had been cleared anyway, so the server had no reason to be present.

Using one of the toothpicks that were served along with the steak bites, he removed the leftovers that had managed to find a home between his teeth.

“Okay fine get outta here.” Roman issued a not-so-friendly pat on the server’s shoulder, “Bring me back some more of these things.” He motioned for the stranger to depart, leaving him with Onyx as his company.

“Alright what are we getting into tonight?” Asked the shorter of the pair. The smile he displayed was nothing short of mischievous.

Roman

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[Uniko]

location

Dupont Ballroom

interactions

Roman tyranna

'This shit is fucking insane.'

It was not his first extravagant ball no, being born into the Duncan pack meant he was expected to attend most if not all events that required the Duncan's presences, and considering how often the Alpha was required to attend these soiree's, and he by default, was expected to be there as well. Well sorta, if he were being truthful, he was actually not supposed to be here at this ball right now. This Charity Ball that was hosted by the infamous Montarac clan, and Osbourne family was by strict invite only. And non surprisingly, Onyx Duncan name was not on the list. But thanks to the Alpha's influence amongst the town, as well as having to register as being Roman's plus one, he was allowed inside the highly restricted event. He found the latter stipulation to be utter bullshit. Just because Roman was beta should not mean he was granted all access to an event. Especially when he was not even of pureblood.

"Alright, what are we getting into tonight?"

Onyx was brought out of his self musings as the familiar, smooth voice of his present companion broke through his internal thoughts. His grip on his glass of vodka tightened reflexively, as he tried to dismiss the zealous thoughts clouding his mind. The inky haired male trailed his gazed over Roman's golden brown form to lazily glance over some of the patrons mingling around them. His gaze lingered on a paticular couple in the crowd that looked as if they were about to meld into one in front everyone. Blinking, Onyx's eye settled back on Roman's and an automatic smirk slid across his features-

"What the fuck do you think? Let's go piss some stiff neck assholes off tonight." Onyx stated with a wink to the slightly shorter male beside him. Though the beta was lacking in height in comparison, anyone with sense would know that the bicolored haired beta more than made up for it with his sheer strength, skill and prowess, and that is why Onyx respected Roman at the end of the day. Among other things. Thought that did not stop the aspiring young wolf from challenging the man at any given chance.

Pushing himself off the food table that he was leaning against, the finely dressed tall young werewolf instantly locked onto his current target of interest, and nudged Roman in his solid side as he pointed over at a particularly overly muscled bald man standing by the main staircase where all the attendees had to descend from to enter the ballroom. He would be a perfect candidate to mess with to cure his itching boredom while they waited for the signal from the Alpha that they could leave.

"You see that bob the builder looking muther fucker' over there? He was eyeing us weird when we walked in here...I say we should see what exactly his deal was." Onyx proposed to the beta as he leaned in, whispering the plan to him. As he was speaking, the server that was just helping Roman returned with the exact dish that the beta requested. Well, if it's one thing he had to give the blood suckers and human eaters for, they sure knew how to hire their staff. Taking a piece of the bite sized succulent steak of the silver platter, Onyx popped it in his mouth, leaving the tiny toothpick between his teeth and shoved his clawed hands into his trousers pockets, already making a move towards the stupid bouncer that had no clue of the disruption the two werewolves were about to cause him.

A sudden thought dawned on Onyx, "Oh yeah, so did you donate to this foundation or whatever? I heard whoever gives these fuckers the most money gets the key to the damn city." Onyx mildly grumbled under his breath, his nose rising and lips curling as he caught scents of all the different creatures and beings within the room. It used to give him a headache with all the different scents, but as he's gotten older, he's learned to control his senses and not let it affect him as much. But the stench of the ghouls in particular will never be a scent that he could ignore.

Onyx Duncan

♡design by sirnateunknown, coded by uxie♡

 

[Sadies]

Cailan Ousborne

We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we realized that they were inside of us. Charles Darwin

Male | 22 | Ghoul | Adopted member of the Osbourne's
-x-x-​

It's funny how a place full of monsters is the closest I can be to getting some humanity.

Dancing and a room full of other people are two of the many things that bring Cailan out of him comfort zone however his ties to his family meant that opting out was not a possibility for him. Having being adopted into the Osborne family not so long ago, he felt it was a necessity to honour his family by at least showing his face at such an event. To him however; attending such an event was a challenge. He was never an very outgoing person however he changed greatly 5 years ago when everything changed for him.

Cailen let out a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he adjusted the top button of his black ironed shirt. He didn't feel comfort in his outfit, a long black coat, black shirt, straight black trousers and polished shoes; dressing up fancy was in no way his style and it made him uncomfortable. Perhaps the irritating clothing would be enough to keep him distracted from other thoughts. Despite his dislike for the outfit, it did bring him some normality and closer to the feeling of what he wanted to be, even if that wasn't possible. Before Noxium the only types of ball Cailan had been to were the school balls, and they were very different, especially when it's a room of fifteen year old children racing around.

Noxium and his new life with the Osbournes was worlds away from where he grew up; everything from the city architecture, the people and culture were all still so foreign too him. Despite the feeling of fitting in and being in a place with people like him, Cailan still felt very much alone. Even if he did want to reach out to people, he also wanted to keep his distance. He hadn't spoken to anyone about how he felt, but he could see that everyone had a different outlook on life compared to him.

Cailan lingered for some time in the foyer before finally proceeding with his entrance in a way in which he hoped would not grab eyes. He attended the attendants desk and while saying very little, dropped down a donation bid and swiftly moved off to enter into the ballroom. His eyes scanned the room from one side to another to get a picture of what he was dealing with; there were more Duncans and Woodbanes than he would like there to be. At least there seemed to be enough of his family; the Osbournes, and the family of Montaracts, to be able to put some distance between them. Not that Cailen had any intentions of making any small talk. He was simply there because he was expected to be and being there was enough.

Passing the refreshments table and carefully picked up a glass of red wine before seeking out a quieter spot in the room. He had never liked red wine, but now it smelt even worse. He stared down at the glistening red drink and spun it slightly in the glass. He wasn't going to drink it, but at least holding it made him feel somewhat normal. Everything looked and smelt foul to him now, it was like an illness; he would struggle for even a bite before his stomach would churn. It wasn't normal, it wasn't human.

Mentions:
Osbournes, Montaracts,
Duncans and Woodbanes.

Location:
Dupont Ballroom

Notes:
Outfit​

 

[-ferret-]

delori

Out of all the tings that Delori had ever done, partying was one of their favorites. Anything from raves in big cities to balls here in Noxium. Parites were where he thrived. Maybe it was something about being the center of attention. Maybe it was that he was allowed to put on a different mask each time and play with so many different people. But in reality, it was all of it. Parties made them feel powerful. The ability to weave stories out of thin air and to make people laugh. It was an attention, a love, an obsessive adoration he craved. And parties were just the place to get that high. That addictive drug that washed over him when all eyes were staring, waiting for their next move. Of course Del knew when to hold himself back. They couldn't be in the limelight all the time. But as long as they could, they'd hold onto it before gracefully letting it go. And this party would test their grace. It wasn't a party for him, but he'd show himself off all the same until he had to be quiet.

But that wasn't now. Now was a moment that they could steal away. They'd chosen a rather modest dress and killer shoes, along with a bejeweled choker. His oufit wasn't actually his first choice, but after much deliberation, it had been the final contestant.

Delori was decidedly late. Well, not late, but not punctual the way Emile probably was. The first thing they did upon entering the lavish ballroom was make a small donation to the man up front. He didn't feel the need for bragging rights so he put down what was appropriate while still being small enough. Next he sought out his best friend. Viviana and Delori had been friends since they were young and despite their differences and all, they stayed strong through thick and thin. Making their way through the parting crowds, Del quickly found the vamp in her light colored dress. He said a quick hello, patted her arm, gave a sympathetic look whenever Viera Osbourne was mentioned and then moved on.

They spent ample time entertaining other people and doing little party tricks for magicless humans. Soaking up the attention and being pretty and sweet. Being the nice little witch taken in by the Woodbanes. People liked to see how far he had come since his parents' deaths and he was ever so pleased to present a kind young person flourishing in harmless magic. He liked to keep his secrets and toe the line of dangerously giving them all up at the same time. People would ask questions and they'd smile, give a vague and mysterious answer. They'd redirect and manipulate, be dramatic, be subtle. All in the name of lying their ass off.

And when that got boring, they'd excuse themself and look for the next most interesting thing. The next little game they could play.

The next game happened to be possibly the biggest trouble makers in Noxium. Onyx and Roman. He quickened his stride to intercept them and their target, coming right up behind the garishly dressed men. With his heels, del nearly reached Roman's height but still fell short of the taller wolf.

"Hello boys," he said, coming right up behind them with a shit eating grin. "What're we getting into?"

Del had a habit of inviting himself anywhere. That included the shit that Roman and Onyx got into. It was always a blast when the three of them got up to terrible things. And it looked like the next object of their little games was a bald man standing near the main staricase. Delori had passed by the man when they'd entered and he had given them a decidedly nasty look.

"Oh him? Oh I quite like that idea!" Delori grinned even more maniacally.

mood
ready for whateva

location
dupont ballroom

outfit
the fit

playing...
song

by artist​

mentions
viv

interactions
the wonder twins

tags
tags

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Israel]

Zuriel Montarac

Location: Dupont Ballroom | Interactions: No One Yet | Mentions: the Montarac Clan / the Duncan Pack | Outfit: Cocktail Attire #1
Such a boring atmosphere requires a little entertainment. Was one of the many thoughts of the second son of the Montarac clan at the current event that was hosted by the Osbournes and Montaracs. The bluish-black haired "young" man walked among the crowd of patrons. His cat-like eyes would move from one person to the next, and he would occasionally give a crooked grin at an individual or two. Many were quick to avoid the middle son of the Montaracs. They were experienced when dealing with the second son and would, subtly, move quickly out of his vicinity. However, that didn't mean he was any less bombarbed by individuals who thought they could court or manipulate the dark-haired vampire. If they were lucky, they would realize that the raven-haired man took no pleasure in such actions. If they were unlucky... well, they were quick to realize how much joy he takes in being vindictive. This probably came as no surprise to his parents, he simply explained to them that he would only consider a suitor if they bested him in physical combat. No magic, no sneakery. Simply a physical duel where he would be bested. This either meant that the young vampire would never be made to marry someone or he would have a very strong mate.

As Zuriel made his way through the crowd, a glass of, what only one could assume was, red wine would occasionally grace his lips with a small sip. His cat-like eyes would glance over at the current family members he could see, mainly his parents and beloved sister. However, he would also glance over at the current supernaturals in the room. Namely, the werewolves who seemed to being concocting their own plan for the event. Zuriel would be the last person to stop them from inducing chaos. I hope that their plan is more disruptive than boring. Simple minds bring predictable outcomes.

 

[AreSneksSly]

#

Alexei

"Setting a scene"

location

The Dupont Ballroom

mentions

Roman, Onyx, Del, Veronika, Vanya

interactions

Open!

tags

N/A

Alexei loved being a Montarac, and this event was one of the many reasons he did.

I mean, come on, a big fancy party where not only were all the townies invited, but the other clans were too? That was prime real estate for show-offs, baby, and we all know who the biggest show-off around is. Wink.

This was probably why Alexei had gone through extra lengths to doll himself up for the event. A leather choker stood out against his skin, charcoal against alabaster. Flowing behind him as he strode through the room were the coattails of a dark suit, tinted midnight blue and embroidered with the initials A.M. on the chest using thread the color of sky. (And that meant real sky, by the way. Vibrant and bright. Not the dreary gray of Noxium.) The man’s eyes shone dark purple, the energy that pulsed through his veins pushing his legs further with every step. As he walked, the mop of curls on his head bobbed with him. That was the one thing no one could tame; not even Lexi himself.

The ballroom looked splendid tonight. The Montaracs (and the Osbournes too he guessed) had gone with an excellent venue. The ceiling stretched far above his head, lights casting shadows that danced over the stained checkered floors. As Lexi passed by the man at the front, he simply clicked his tongue and winked at him, mimicking guns with his fingers as he slid over a reasonable amount of money. Normally, he would’ve loved to claim bragging rights for himself, but it didn’t feel fair seeing as he was part of the family hosting the event.

Fixing the front of his coat, Alexei glanced around the room, hoping to catch something interesting with his eyes. A few groups there, a bunch of loners by the bar and the food tables, and what looked to be three familiar faces huddled close together. Lexi raised a brow, a smirk already beginning to grow on his face as he found himself coming closer and closer, before stopping.

Hang on Alexei. Think this over. Your family is the one hosting the event (and also the Osbournes.) If you were to, hypothetically, get tied up with some chaotic, destructive plot, and then get caught, you’ll be the one who has to answer to Vanya and Veronika. Those idiots could get off the hook because they’re part of different families, but you’re the one living in the Montarac house; It’s your glorious ass on the line here.

With a sigh, Lexi backed away from the trio with a frown, cheeks puffed with indignation at his own brilliant (if a little late) thoughts. Damn him for being so smart. And handsome.

Speaking of handsome, it seemed his ruminations had left him open for a crowd to form around him. Affixing a smile, Alexei spent the next few minutes entertaining his new posse, telling them stories and cracking jokes. Because even if the rest of the families knew what an absolute rat he was, the rest of the town just saw him as the pretty, charming youngest brother of the Montaracs, and he fully intended on keeping that image up. Besides, he could always get into trouble later. The night was still young, after all, and that meant plenty of room for a little chaos.

© weldherwings.

 

[Vivi]

「Lysander Osbourne」

A harmonious melody of piano and violin gently ebbed and flowed throughout the ballroom, blending with the chatter of voices engrossed in conversation and exchanges of polite laughter. Servers carrying trays full of refreshments flitted to-and-fro. Glamorous figures glided along the dancefloor, twirling in an enchanting display of silken colors and glittering finery. Like a scene plucked out of a fairytale, everything was impeccable.

Lysander took it all in with a pleased look. The last few days had been full to the brim with planning and organizing, making calls and confirming any last-minute arrangements with the Montaracs. It was a momentous occasion for both of their families, for all of Noxium. And they had spared no measure to assure that tonight would be perfect.

A server came by with a tray of wine, and Lysander accepted a glass. Of course, that didn’t mean he trusted the night would pass entirely without a hitch. The four households of Noxium held long and complicated histories between them, and tensions ran deep. But he sincerely hoped they’d be able to put their differences aside for tonight.

For the occasion, Lysander was dressed in a beige three-piece suit, complemented with a tie in gold swirls and a black dress shirt underneath.

He spotted Calian at a lone corner of the room and couldn’t help but notice the boy looked rather paler than usual. Lysander still had several guests to greet before the night was over, but he was already making his way over before he knew it.

“Son, how are you enjoying the evening?” Lysander asked with a hint of concern, putting a steady hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Sadies​

 

[Horror]

Ilyas Osbourne

mood.

Nervous

[/comment]

location.

The Dupont Ballroom

tags.

Wxnter

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Expensive alcohol and aftershave. It was a fragrance that pervaded every crook that he brought to his nose. It was customary to these events, yet it never failed to singe the nerves inside of his nostrils. The clanking of glass was punctuated by the outburst of laughter—even here, in the quietest corner, he could find. Within his palm, he held a glass containing a pink liquid that eddied with every slight turning of the hand. It held a sweet, tart, and earthy flavor with smokey undertones to round out the base; the unmistakable tang of human gore.

The glass fluttered upwards in intervals led by the guiding force of a steady grasp; Ilyas was never one to drink, it hazed his thoughts more than he appreciated. It was a non-alcoholic beverage that resembled a popular liquor of choice. He needed to put on the impression that he was here to enjoy himself, after all—this event was for him and his new fiancé.

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for the task before him and stepped out of the shadows of his solitude into the crowd of dancing and chatting guests. He wore a simple yet sophisticated ensemble of a white dress shirt and black slacks. The shirt was crisp and clean, the fabric gently hugging his body and giving him a polished look. The black slacks were tailored to fit his frame, and the waistband was cinched with an orange sash that added a hint of vibrancy and flair to his outfit.

He stepped further into the ballroom, his eyes alight with interest and his lips curling into an inviting smile. His gaze flickered around the room, settling on unfamiliar faces that he had yet to meet. His feet moved him forward, carrying him through the crowd as he extended his hand to the strangers he encountered.

“Good evening," he spoke warmly, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "I'm Ilyas. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He paused, giving each person he met a moment to respond before he moved on to the next, repeating the pleasantry as he greeted them all. His demeanor was open and friendly, and as he continued on his journey through the ballroom, he left an infectious bliss in his wake.

In his gait, his gaze fell onto one of many familiar faces. The famous and haunting guise of one Viviana Montarac. As striking as she was, she had a dangerous air about her. Ilyas felt his stomach lurch as he gazed upon the alluring white-haired vampire. She stood before him, her draping tapestry adorning her body like a soft blanket of flames. He felt a chill run up his spine, a sense of danger and foreboding, yet he could not look away. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to think, immersed by her presence.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the cool night air, letting it soothe his nerves and steady his breathing. He slowly adjusted the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen the tension that had built up within him. He opened his eyes and the sight of her had not changed, and yet the fear that had held him back seemed to have diminished somewhat. Just follow your mother’s advice.

His feet felt like lead, but he kept moving forward, slowly but surely. Ilyas took one more breath inwards and found his voice, and he spoke the words that he had rehearsed a myriad times for this night. "You look breathtaking," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. “Have you been enjoying the ball so far?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his palms beginning to sweat. He wanted to say something else, but his mind seemed to be frozen like the words were stuck in his throat.

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[smolfluffball]

Victor | Location: Ballroom, by the wall | Interactions: OPEN please talk to him | Mentions: Montarac's, Ilyas, Viera, Onyx and Emile

It was fine. This all was fine. Being back home surrounded by all the different families at a party hosted by his own family and the Osbourne’s, who he had been hiding with, was fine. Not a problem in the slightest. Nothing would go wrong, he had to remind himself. His parents and siblings wouldn’t notice him and he’d be able to get through the entire evening just fine.

Victor Montarc, formerly Montarac, was almost nervous standing against the wall, keeping his eyes up from the beautiful marble floor, cradling an untouched wine glass in his hands. His finger had been tapping against the rim of it earlier until he realized what he was doing and ceased immediately. Gestures that might hint at an unpleasant or weak feeling weren’t something he would allow himself to show to all of the partygoers. There was no reason for him to be nervous, not truly, he kept having to tell himself. The disguise Ilyas had put together for him was nearly flawless. The attendant at the door hadn’t blinked an eye when he laid down his donation and had simply welcomed him in with a polite smile. None of the other guests had even noticed him yet, and he intended to remain unnoticed for as long as he could.

He rested his back, still slightly rigid, against the wall and surveyed the crowd through his fake thick rimmed glasses. The long black wig he wore fell in curtains around the arms of his glasses and had distracted him when he was adapting to the disguise. They had been good suggestions, although they did feel abnormal on Victor’s face and head. His new hat, his own addition to the disguise, didn’t completely match with the attire of the evening, but sacrifices had to be made to ensure he was safe. At least his suit looked nice.

He hadn’t anticipated a charity party only two days after he returned. He had barely gotten to check out all of the new additions to town since he came back. Ilyas had truly been a life saver and Victor wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to thank Viera enough for letting him stay at the Osbourne manor. He had initially wanted to sit out coming to the party, since he’d be surrounded by everyone again and he did not think he was prepared to face them all yet. After weighing the pros and cons, of which there were more cons than pros, he decided to take a chance and come with his friend. There were only two big issues with this decision: his parents and his siblings. He didn’t know how he’d even approach saying hello to his siblings again, after almost eight years of silence. He did know, for a fact, that they all would be very angry with him. He anticipated getting punched by at least two of them. He deserved it. He’d accept it. Then he’d try to make amends.

His parents were a different beast altogether. Avoiding them had to be his top priority. He didn’t want them to learn he was back in town, preferably ever, but at least not tonight.

Viv’s long white-blonde hair immediately caught his eye and he watched as she parted the crowd. She looked like she was hunting down for something, the determined set of her shoulders a tell-tale sign. He took a sip of his blood-infused wine and averted his eyes from her, not wanting to be spotted by her and accosted so early into the night. His gaze landed on Zuri and he had to take another sip of his wine to keep his smile contained. He was watching a couple of others - was that Onyx? He grew up… - and seemed to be waiting to see what was going to happen. Victor also was, partially, waiting to see what would happen. A crowd gathered around a curly haired short man somewhat close by to Victor’s hiding spot against the wall. He slid to the right several steps to stay out of the way.

He scanned the room again. No Valerie? Maybe she didn’t come to the party. Oh, but that looked like Emile, hiding by a table. He nearly raised his hand to wave to him, to try to catch his attention, but stopped before he could make a mistake. He was in a disguise. He did not look like Victor from eight years ago. His own white-blond hair had been dyed a thousand different colors since he left home, but right now his red hair was hidden underneath his black wig. He needed to remember that. He probably looked like some creepy uncle leaning against the wall, spectating.

He bit at the edge of the wine flute to keep his sigh contained. Where did Ilyas go off to? He spotted him with his sister. They were talking? About what? When did they get to know each other? Were they friends? He didn’t want to leave his hiding spot but he wanted to know what was going on between them. He doubted he’d be able to walk by them without being noticed by either of them, honestly. He let out a heavy breath through his nose and downed the rest of the wine in his glass. Maybe if he got drunk then he’d stop caring so much about everything.

 

[Dicentra]

The Priestess

Eleanor

Location: Dupont Ballroom

Mentions: Alva, Emile

With the pollen of an echinacea and a seed from a hawthorne, Eleanor's masterpiece was complete - the new breed of flower named 'Moondance' was cultivated. Weeks of trial-and-errors had paid off, she finally had the perfect flower to gift the leading ladies of the main families at the ball (sorry, including the Duncans). She gave each of the four hybrids one last mist spray, admiring the brilliant purple color that the petals glowed. The fathering echinacea promoted stimulation to the immune system while the mothering hawthorne was a protector of the heart - a perfect blend to brew as tea to lower the high blood pressure that comes with leading a faction.

Eleanor was a typically reserved woman, but when it came to her horticultural creations, it was hard to keep her quiet or still. Her eyes dazzled as she appraised her own design, and soon she was lost in thought questioning what she could've changed to make it better. Would thinner petals have made it easier to infuse? Would a thicker peduncle have made it more intensely aromatic? She continued to ponder, staring deeply at her flower until suddenly, her phone began to horn the default alarm sound - the one that gave millions of people ptsd.

The witch chaotically scrambled to locate her phone - quickly checking near her bed and under her mountains of documents. Eventually it was found next to her microscope, buried under notes full of chicken-scratch that was only legible to herself. She smashed the button on her phone and let out a sigh of relief.. only to then realize what the alarm was for. She was late for the ball!

Panic ensued all over again. Eleanor frantically called for a taxi as she slipped on her midnight ruffled dress - the one with flower shaped decor along her chest. As she waited for her ride to arrive, she adorned her plain black stilettos and applied the essential makeup. As if time was giving her a grace period, Eleanor was coincidently outside as soon as the cab rolled in, her small bouquet of flowers in hand. Once inside of the vehicle, Eleanor got comfortable and felt a wave of respite. That was until her phone started blaring that trauma-inducing alarm again. Turns out she hit 'snooze' instead of 'off'.

Some time passed and she eventually made it to the Dupont Ballroom - a grand building decorated in the words 'rich' and 'wealthy'. The walls were as tall as the night sky and the floors were as beautiful as a bunch of Dendrophylax Lindenii - a gorgeous rare flower. Even if one doesn't know what it looks like, just take her word for it - it's pretty. Eleanor sluggishly walked towards the ballroom entrance, anticipation now getting the better of her. And with each step she took, her heart paced faster. Social gatherings were not exactly Eleanor's strong suit, so she had planned the flowers to use them as a gateway to conversations. But the closer she got to the event, the more she was doubting her decision. Maybe it would've been better had she found an excuse to keep to herself instead.

The anxious witch poked her head through the main door, scanning the room before entering. She spotted a few familiar faces, and a couple that she knew based on gossip and rumors. But what her eyes were really searching for was one of her life lines - Emile or Alva. She happily noticed Emile standing alone at a small table, and decided to head towards his way before someone came to talk to him. She took a deep breathe to prepare herself to enter the rather crowded scene - holding onto her flowers with an iron grip. And soon she sped walked across the room to meet Emile, her head down the entire time to avoid eye contact with strangers.

Once she bumped into Emile, her rosy cheeks rose into a sheepish smile - one that was put on her face due to the stress of the situation. "I'm here!" She boasted - proud she was standing in the middle of the cluster. But soon her tone changed once she realized where she was again. "I'm here.." Eleanor whimpered.

Code by Serobliss

 

[Dorodoros]

Marcel

M

arcel was never late. At least, never a time save for this.

After dismissing Onyx and Ro to attend the ball ahead, he'd spent a lapse of time considering the consequences of not making an appearance. The alpha had better things to do than pose as some prominent head of house, much less spend the entire night reeling his companions in by the collar. Letting them run loose for the other families to deal with did hold a certain allure. Allowing them to show up in their outfits was already a crime, he was sure.

That musing occupied his mind while he studied the sill of the sky, where a curtain of color and clouds announced day's death. He might have remained there the entire evening had the moon not emerged amidst sunset embers to remind him of a most loathed thing: obligation. Care as little as he might try, he'd never leave family to swim with serpents alone.

Time to work.

Dupont was a place he remembered well. As a boy, he'd been brought to visit often beside a man he'd been told to forever revere, who spoke of Duncans toiling day and night to bring it to life. The man spoke of passion behind the craft, of soul poured like silt in an effort to shape its silhouette. Strange then that now, as he strolled through the foyer with its sprawling velvet and glittering stained glass, he saw nothing but grandeur made hollow—a specialty of Noxium, it would seem.

“No getting in without an invi…” The bouncer at the foot of the stairs was too busy goggling a distant white-haired vixen weaving through the crowd to even realize who was speaking to. When he did meet the alpha’s stony gaze, however, a slew of apologies and half-murmured excuses began to spill from the bouncer’s hitching chest. Not that Marcel paid it much mind; he had a shrewd eye for trouble, and it appeared to be approaching from behind the poor lad in a group of three. With intent colder than ice, Marcel dipped his head in the direction of the beta, his lapdog and what he assumed to be some plaything of theirs. It was the only warning they’d get… if they were going to stir chaos, best to do it after he was gone.

“A-apologies, sir.” The bouncer must have thought he was threatening him, as the man began to stammer out another apology. He was but a doorstop, after all, with a very limited set of expectations for the night. If only the man had any idea how much trouble he’d been saved from. “Would you like to make a donation to the Montarac and Osbou—”

“No.” Whether or not his response drew a response was a thing he’d not know, as his stride onto the ballroom floor was swift and without another word.

If there was anything Marcel could praise the Montaracs for, it was their ability to harbor all seven “sins” beneath the same roof. As he made his way through crowd, given a wide berth he hardly even noticed, Em took note of their guises: lust in the eyes of the bouncer he’d left behind and every suitor who flocked like sheep to the Montarac family’s charm; greed in the silk–laced words spilling from each and every schmoozer’s lips; both sloth and gluttony in the way waiters were dismissed to fetch from an endless supply of wine. Wrath he knew to lurk behind closed doors, but pride was most visible on the faces of those with names to remember, some of which had heads held so high it was a wonder they could see beyond their own nose.

Not that he needed to look far to see it; were he to glimpse at his own reflection within a passing pane of glass, he’d find pride there to greet him. A squared jaw, set shoulders, guarded stance, and eyes that reminded him of the man who raised him—eyes that said ‘not good enough.’ Qualities bestowed like a brand by a father he could now only recall with muddled clarity.

Everyone had something they hid. If pride was a thing inherited, fostered from birth to be a lifelong partner displayed upon his arm, then Envy was a clandestine lover he met with in secret. One he’d been failed time and again at ridding himself of, who he ignored at the best of times and fell victim to the allure of at his worst. One who now guided him by the chin to gaze at the crowd gathered at the behest of others, who spoke sweet and sultry: this could be ours. This could be yours.

Not the the time. Not the place.

While he had no love for ghouls, he did respect Lysander and the Lady Osbourne, who surely had a hand in the logistics of such a large event, if not being responsible for all of its planning. They were a family well-intentioned upon the surface. Besides, the hair on his arms had been on end from the moment he’d stepped beyond the hall’s threshold; he suspected a spectacle to come one way or another.

Sobered by the thought, and Marcel peered with mild interest at his surroundings. It seemed as though instinct set him to prowl the perimeter of the room, for he now found himself near some desolate, gods-forsaken corner. There was little here save for a table with an abundance of drinks and a rather docile butler.

No, that wasn’t right. It was simply a man with an extremely questionable sense of fashion bearing a striking resemblance to—

“Emile?”
“I’m here!”

Although not particularly loud on principle, the alpha was hardly ever spoken over. She’d arrived just as he did, cheeks flushed and blonde hair flowing, bumping into Emile as though her feet had betrayed her by refusing to come to a halt. Clearly this woman was out of her element; she hardly seemed comfortable even with the relative solitude the corner assured. Even still, his stare persisted, unflinching and unwavering for perhaps a bit too long. His features revealed so little that it’d be all too easy to assume the worst of him.

In truth, her face simply seemed familiar. He was more than curious. Where had they met before..?

Realizing his fixation, Marcel pursed his lips and turned away, deciding that questions could wait. While he hadn’t properly spoken to the other man in ages and he wished to inquire a few things in private, there was a far more pressing matter sitting pretty upon the table beside them.

“Far too many drinks here for a single soul…” He addressed Emile with a beckon toward the bottles. For once since he’d arrived, there was a coy fire to his eye and the ice that’d trailed him about the room seemed all but forgotten. Nothing could so easily liven him like the notion of a challenge. “How about you and I finally have that drinking competition we once spoke of, bookkeeper? Your friend is invited.”

MOOD

we drinkin tonight

OUTFIT

fit

LOCATION

the serpent's pit

TAGS

MisaMai Dicentra

coded by xayah.ღ

 

[MisaMai]

The evening thus far had been quite pleasant. The third drink had lasted a while longer than he thought it would and he was only just coming down to the bottom of the glass. He had asked a waiter, a pleasant young woman named Bethany who had an interest in studying finance, to bring a few bottles and empty flutes to the table in case anyone chose stop by. So far, no one had, but that simply left more for him. He had considered asking for some snacks as well but it was a very small table… Delori had entered the room with their usual flare, dressed to the nines and performing party tricks for some of the other guests. Emile was beginning to think that they might refrain from causing any mischief when Delori decided to approach two of the best know trouble-makers in the city, Roman and Onyx from the wolf pack. Emile had stood and been about to approach the three when he noticed Eleanor enter the ballroom. She looked absolutely angelic in her gown and for a moment, she seemed genuinely pleased to be there. He smiled warmly at her as she approached, hoping for a brief moment that she had conquered a little of her fear. It took him only a moment to realize she was terrified to be there.

Emile put out a steadying hand to Eleanor as she approached, placing his nearly empty champaign flute on the table and clasping her gently on the elbow. Ordinarily he would have taken her hand and kissed the top, something that had delighted her when she was younger that he had never broken the habit of doing, but her hands were preoccupied clutching several delicate looking blooms. The flowers were absolutely beautiful and Emile couldn’t begin to guess what their intended purpose was, though they did seem far to delicate and out of place in the large space, much like Eleanor herself currently did.

Since Emile had first met her, she had been a quiet girl, shy almost to the point of isolation. She had always been the perfect picture of politeness, a proven prodigy from a young age, but it was hard to get the girl to truly open up to anyone. It had taken months of effort on Emile’s part for the two of them to have a real conversation, much less for the young woman to really talk to him. When he had taken over as book-keeper for the coven, she would constantly ask him for books on botany, herbology, scientific theory, and even biology; anything to help her better understand and manipulate the plants around her. Although she had an immaculate understanding of all things that grow, she had always had something of an affinity for flowers, and Emile had always found her experimentation fascinating as well as the results her selective breeding produced. The flowers present tonight were no exception.

Emile had just opened his mouth to provide some sort of verbal comfort to the High Priestess when another voice entered the conversation. Emile turned his head and found himself having to crane his neck slightly to look up at the taller man that stood before him. Emile and Eleanor stood at roughly the same height, her height precisely average for a young woman, his slightly too short for an old man. Marcel, Alpha of the Duncan pack, stood at roughly the size of a colossus. Herculean, some might say. Gargantuan. A man of respectable height would be dwarfed by Marcel which left Emile always feeling rather miniscule in his presence, especially considering the intimidating heir he seemed to always carry with him. At the mention of a friendly competition, however, Emile’s smile took on a playful edge.

“If you take into consideration that I am already three drinks in, I accept.” He said, the steady bass of his voice hinted with a bit of amusement. “I even have something to make the game a bit more fun. However, before we partake, allow me to introduce you to our High Priestess, Eleanor. She has quite a green thumb, you know. I believe she brought something with her tonight.” Emile smiled at Eleanor, lightly squeezing her arm in encouragement and offering her a chance to speak. If she could have a halfway legible conversation with the most physically intimidating person in the room, she would probably have enough confidence to endure the rest of the night.

He was sure she already knew that if she needed to leave, he would go with her no questions asked. He hoped she was willing to put in her best effort to at least try to have a little fun tonight. She was so rarely seen outside of the main house, this was a wonderful opportunity for her to make some new friends outside of the coven. He often worried that she would never branch out. Delori on the other hand….Emile supposed that whatever mischief he got into tonight would result in its just desserts. Besides, the flask of absinthe Emile currently had hidden in his jacket pocket was likely to get him, and possible Marcel, in enough trouble as it was.

the book keeper

Emile.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Ilyas

mentions:

Victor and Ilyas

location:

Dupont Ballroom

tags:

Horror

When you are one to be desired you receive a front-row seat to the best and worst in others. They often display it without even noticing it. Viviana Montarac knew this, perhaps more than she would like. Throughout her years of living, she had witnessed many men prove that they were never fit to be in power. They called women emotional, fickle, weak beings, but as she grew older and wiser, she realized it was simply a projection of feeble-minded men.

Her opinion on the matter began to sway when she became an older sister, an older sister to three very different young men. There were brief moments she thought that perhaps she judged too fast, that there was hope for them after all. Victor made sure to cement her original hypothesis. Men were cruel. They got away with so much and did so little.

Perhaps this was why they were her favorite plaything, sure the comfort of a woman was sweet, but subjugating a man was sweeter. But as The Fates would have it, Viviana was presented with another opportunity to reassess her long-standing belief. The opportunity came in the form of flesh and bone. Ilyas Osbourne was its name.

Contrary to popular belief, she didn’t dislike her fiancé. She found him rather interesting actually, admired him in some respect, but would never voice it. He did what she could not, and went against his parent's wishes. Viviana was the perfect Montarac child, she put on her best performance for her parents and all others, and she was what a vampiress was expected to be. Cunning, seductive, violent.

Viviana was equal in height to her beloved with heels, and golden irises met with void black ones. Ilyas was more like his parents than he’d like to believe. It worried her because it meant maybe she was more like her parents than she believed.

His compliment, though true, lacked genuineness. “I do, don’t I?” her lips curled into a false smile. “Tell me, how many times did you practice that one in the mirror?” Viv’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side, almost condescendingly. Something in her told her to play nice, but she was certain she didn’t have a conscious.

“Apologies,” the vampire offered, “I’ve been.....on edge, I’m no longer on the market after all.” Viviana whispered the last bit, too many nosy passersby. “The night is treating me well.” The appropriate counter would be to ask him the same, but she was far from appropriate, wasn’t she?

“Well...” her voice trailed as she scanned every bit of him. “Are you going to ask me to dance?” she questioned, holding out her hand.

Viviana

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[smolfluffball]

Victor | Location: The drink table. | Interactions: Emile MisaMai Marcel Dorodoros and Eleanor Dicentra | Mentions: Montarac’s and Ilyas

​

The singular glass of wine did nothing to ease the not-nervousness that Victor was presently dealing with. He swung the wine glass lazily in his hand and tried to force the tenseness in his upper back to lessen. He needed to do something to distract himself from this feeling, quite badly. Ilyas was busy talking with his sister and he wasn’t ready to expose himself to his siblings yet. Marcel wasn’t around, either, which was peculiar. Emile seemed like he was gearing up to lose himself in the alcohol perched on the table he was by. He still hadn’t seen his parents anywhere, and he definitely would notice their white hair and creepy movements. He truly hoped they wouldn’t actually come to the party. They could keep doing whatever they were doing wherever they were at and that’d be completely chill.

A girl with long wavy blonde hair raced across the room carrying several flowers that looked like some weird version of an echinacea. Victor watched her go over to Emile, curious. That was Eleanor, correct? He didn’t know anyone else in Noxium who'd carry around flowers. Actually, those flowers looked like hybrids. Eleanor was the only one he knew that crafted her own flower species. How old would she be now? Would she remember him? He doubted it. She had barely said anything to him the few times they interacted. Marcel’s imposing form also slid up to Emile and seemed to greet him. They arrived at the same time, which was certainly interesting.

How did Victor miss Marcel coming into the room? Maybe the single glass of wine was getting to him. Or maybe, more likely, he was too tuned into avoiding his parents to notice that his friend had arrived to the party late. He probably made quite an entrance, hadn’t he? And Victor missed it.

This wouldn’t do. He didn’t want to stay by the wall the entire night and miss saying hello to his friends again. They were both together and it’d be incredibly easy to slide over there and greet them. It could be a game: if they didn’t recognize him, then he’d create some fake persona to be. If they did recognize him… Well, that would be interesting too. If only a little bit difficult to navigate at a very public party with his siblings and parents so close by. He had basically no idea how he’d handle talking to both Emile and Marcel at the same time. They were on completely different levels.

Oh well. He decided he wanted to not care. He already had taken a massive chance coming here. What was one more?

He set his empty wine glass on a nearby table and dodged around party goers as he crossed over to the small group by the table, keeping his head down as he walked. As he got close to the trio he lifted it and saw Marcel nod to the drinks. Emile accepted a challenge, to drink, definitely, then he introduced Eleanor to the alpha. Victor hovered around the trio for a few moments, contemplating if he should actually leave them alone or not. He wouldn’t want to surprise them and ruin their fun evening plans.

He missed them, though. He wanted them to know he was back. He wanted to see how they reacted to him being back. He hoped they missed him, too. He wouldn’t know how they felt unless he said something.

After taking a deep breath to try to calm his speeding heart, he stepped lightly up to the table, standing near Marcel. “Hey there, sirs and madame,” he greeted as casually as he possibly could, tipping his hat at them. “Need a referee?”

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Onyx → Onyx & Delori → Alexei

mentions:

Marcel, Onyx, Delori, Emile, Eleanor, and Alexei

location:

Dupont Ballroom

tags:

AreSneksSly Uniko -ferret-

Roman.....just Roman, not Roman Duncan, was a Noxium mystery. He appeared out of nowhere on a gloomy day in the town that homed the supernatural, with the title of Beta. If he were being honest, he wasn’t even sure what the fuck it meant to be a Beta at the time. He wasn’t sure what it meant to be a werewolf. To be a part of a pack, and yet here he was in a leadership position. Yikes. Talk about lying on your resume to get the job. Well, no, that was actually far from the truth, he didn’t lie about a damn thing, everyone knew he was underqualified. Including him.



But enough with the depressing thoughts. He was at a party, why wasn’t he partying? Why wasn’t he causing mischief? Wreaking havoc?



Well because he had looked over just at the wrong right time to see Marcel disapprove of his premeditated antics. Lame. There was a time when he thought the Alpha was the coolest creature to walk this stale town, but he was becoming more, more....responsible. The urge to gag was resisted.



Whatever, he could pants that bouncer and kick him down a flight of stairs later. Roman interpreted that look Marcel had given before joining the Harry Potter squad as, later not now, which meant he could do whatever he pleased once Marcel was out of the picture.



Roman looked over at Delori, “We aren’t getting into anything.” which was really a shame because pinning everything on the youngest of the three would’ve been nice, always need a scapegoat after all. The Beta turned to Onyx, reaching for the toothpick locked between his teeth, and yanked it out. He used the opposite end to dig out the last bit of steak that held on for dear life out of his teeth.



Pivoting on his heel he waved goodbye to the pair. “Have fun with your chew toy Onyx, I’m going to get fucked up.”



The closest available drink was a few feet away, a server was issuing drinks to a small group, and right in the center was one of those Montarac brats. The youngest to be specific. Little shit. Roman said to himself as he approached the group, they seemed to disperse, call it his hidden superpower, clearing a room, or in this case, a crowd.



“What’s up you short fucker?” Roman ignored personal boundaries and rested his arm on the shorter male’s head. “You enjoying all the attention you’re getting from mommy and daddy’s party?”

Roman

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡

 

[Steve Jobs]

kaya osborne.

thrill seeking

dupont ballroom

Emile, Marcel, Eleanor, Victor

outfit

Kaya was no stranger to festivities. Her parents had an affinity for hosting charity events so today was no different save for the fact that it was a collaboration between themselves and the Montaracs.

Future family, she wretched.

Though she had no ill will towards the family, she found vampires rather...stale in comparison to the other species present within the world. Prey on humans, live forever, have some odd abilities. Honestly, ghouls had a far more interesting origin and Kaya was willing to die on that hill. It was for that reason that she'd spent so much time getting ready for the charity ball. Four hours to wrap up shooting, twenty minutes for the fire department to arrive, and then another hour to clean up the (her) mess.

By the time she'd gotten home, the rest of her family had left for the party with nothing more than a curt text from her mother. Unlike werewolves or witches, the Osborne matriarch needed no special abilities to assert her dominance. The mixture of familial respect and commanding aura made Viera one of the few people who could bring Kaya in line, something that not even her father could consistently accomplishment.

Nonetheless, the Osborne took her time getting ready and entered the ball with all the theatricality of a long lost sister. Between a black cape, olive blouse, and embossed pants, it was hard to ignore her deliberate departure from the suits and dresses that adorned the other guests. Everyone was red carpet ready and yet there she was, dressed like she was about to resurrect Guccio Gucci.

Walking past the werewolf gangs, the geriatric hoarders, and party crashers, Kaya grabbed a flute of champagne from a nearby waiter and approached Victor, one of the few Montaracs that she tolerated. It seemed that he was offering to referee a competition between the other members of their group. Marcel the alpha of the Duncans, Eleanor, the priestess of the Woodbane Coven, and one more man she didn't quite recognize.

"Far be it from me to miss out on an inter-family battle," she chimed in, her fingers instinctively wrapping around her phone.

coded by natasha.

 

[AreSneksSly]

#

Alexei

"Resisting the urge to set a fire"

location

The Dupont Ballroom

mentions

Roman

interactions

Also Roman

tags

tyranna

Alexei, up until a while ago, had been enjoying himself. He’d been reveling in (yes) the attention he’d been receiving by his doe-eyed posse, basking in their sugar-coated compliments and various attempts at wooing him. It was amusing, in a way, playing the put-together playboy. A man who didn’t give too much at once, lest his dogs get too big for their britches.

And then an actual dog had dared to come by.

Alexei frowned at his retreating group, brows furrowed in slight confusion. Why had they paused? Why were they leaving?

Both questions, thankfully, had a single answer. That answer being the tall (see: average-sized), large, and obnoxiously handsome man who’d sauntered his way.

Lexi, for the briefest moment, had considered playing nice. Swirling the drink in his champagne flute, he’d thought over the ramifications of trying to flirt with a Duncan. I mean, what was the worst that could happen? It didn’t work, and he left with a slightly worse reputation with the pack? Truly a tragedy. How could he even consider it? As if catching the attention of a Montarac wasn’t one of the highest honors a person could receive, rabies-ridden or not.

These thoughts, along with the smirk playing on his lips, quickly vanished as the man decided to rest his arm on his head.

The champagne flute in his hand trembled.

Alexei took in a breath. Then, he let it out. Breathing was a good exercise. Emile had told him that. It helped to keep one’s focus, allow them a moment of reprieve. He was not Alexei Montarac, despite how incredible being said man was. He was simply a pair of lungs, taking in air, then letting it out. In, and out. Ebb, and flow.

Remember, Alexei. You are a Montarac. You are handsome, intelligent, and composed. You will not lose your cool because of a mutt.

“I was, actually,” Lexi said, smiling widely. He’d even managed to speak without gritting his teeth. “Until you came along, that is. Now I’m gonna have to spend my evening alone, save for…”

Composed, Alexei.

Purple eyes scanned the wolf up and down.

Alexei.

That smile twisted into a smirk.

“... a brainless hunk of muscle who smells like rot incarnate, and whose fashion sense is somehow worse than the state of his teeth.”

Hey, nobody’s perfect.

© weldherwings.

 

[Wxnter]

The Dupont Ballroom

Code by Serobliss

•

Interactions: Vanya

•

Tags: Horror

•

CS LINK

Veronika Montarac

The moon shone brightly, a luminous orb of silver light against a sable sky. It was ghastly beautiful, a mystic muse of poets old, an everlasting companion to the tides. She bathed in its gentle light, her skin so fair it seemed carved from ice. The night air was sweet with the smell of fresh dew and roses, and it brought her back to the first night she strolled under the stars with Vanya.

Veronika looked down at the dress her loving husband had chosen for her to wear on this special occasion. The obsidian dress resembled the night sky; its dark fabric draped down her beautiful silhouette, adorned in specks of gold that glittered like the stars; and she, its wearer, was the moon — just as Vanya liked to call her.

She had a wild thought there, beneath the starry sky. What would life be like without Vanya by my side? The answer came to her in a fraction of a second. A cold eternity of endless grief. Such thoughts became more frequent lately, a sudden irrational fear of losing him to the abyss. Much like the sun and moon, Vanya and Veronika were a cosmic pair. Together, they ruled over the rise and fall of the tides. They were unstoppable. Inseparable. One could not exist without the other.

At the sound of his approaching footsteps, Veronika turned, and time seemed to slow down. The sight of him lit in her such a fire that only burns once in a lifetime, a warm and flickering gold flame, ethereal and everlasting. His eyes filled with madness glowed quietly in the shadows, and hair like silver waterfall covered his pale nape. He took her breath away just as he did on the first night that they met.

My moon, he called her. What he did not realize was that the moon was only a reflection of the sun's radiant blaze. And Vanya was her sun, burning and fiery, lighting up what was once cold and desolate. With him by her side she glowed beautifully, for he loved all parts of her, even the other half that remained hidden in the shadows. They were two souls, once apart, now intertwined for eternity.

Veronika ran her fingers through the smooth surface of the pendant, admiring it. Her lips curved upwards into a warm smile, and color rose to her supple cheeks. "It's lovely," said Veronika in a whisper. Vanya always knew how to make her happy. In dark days, he was her light. A constant companion, never to stray. She expressed her gratitude by squeezing his hand and planting a soft kiss on his cheek, and for a moment they stood there in silence, just taking each other in. No words needed to be exchanged. The look in their eyes said everything that needed to be said. I love you for eternity. And they set off.

***​

Soon they arrived at the grandiose ballroom, heads turning as they entered through its grand doors, her arm in his. There were mixed reactions from the crowd — awe, admiration, fear. A large donation was made, and the two took measured steps across the brilliantly embroidered red carpet, making it to the center of the ballroom as the crowd parted to make way.

A sweet melody filled the large hall, and it flowed through the air like waves, setting a romantic refrain. Veronika looked up at Vanya expectantly, squeezing his arm. "A shame no one is dancing," she said, and in that moment everything else faded into the background. There was only him.

 

[Dicentra]

The Priestess

Eleanor

Location: Dupont Ballroom

Mentions: Emile, Marcel, Victor, Kaya // Interactions: MisaMai Dorodoros Steve Jobs smolfluffball

The party was everything Eleanor feared it would be - crowded, loud, and overbearing. There were constant wine glasses being clinked to celebrate the grand occasion, conversations tumbling over each other as people interrupted their peers to get a word in, and the pungent smell of volatile wine swept past her every time a stranger strolled by - which was, unfortunately, much more often than Eleanor was hoping for. To a woman whose characteristic ambient sound was the trickling of a watering can, the reception was domineering.

Eleanor's shaking fingers gripped onto her bouquet of flowers, her clutch so tight that her nails were digging into the stems. She knew that coming here was going to be a challenge for her, but the obstacle was more intimidating than she originally imagined. It was as if every sound in the room was intensified - a whisper sounded like a shriek, and footsteps were as deafening as slamming doors. But thankfully, she had a savior.

The moment Emile's hand cupped her elbow, the noisey world grew quieter and her racing heart slowed. His touch was comforting to her as she knew if he was around, it meant she would be safe. Though the two did not often trade an immense amount of words with each other, they did regularly sample tea together in Emile's library as they read their separate books - hers often on botany and his on whatever caught his interest for the week. Although they were not kin by blood, they had a natural affinity for each other - enjoying the other's presence in silence.

Eleanor's eyes were focused on Emile, and him alone, as she tried to block out the rest of her sensory overload. She watched as his lips parted to speak to her, before they soon shut. But why? The pair turned their heads at the same time towards the sound that caught their attention - the man who called out Emile's name. But Eleanor didn't simply rotate her head to the side to face the right direction. She also had to look up.

Her uncertain search was greeted by a cold stare - a look that she knew too well - a look that meant judgement. Like a deer caught in headlights, her enlarged eyes blinked up at Marcel who she could instantly recognize by the rumors. His presence was frightening, and his height even more so. Everything about him checked off the makings of an alpha - from his intimidating aura to his formidable gaze. All the courage that Emile had gifted her a moment ago had vanished. She was back to feeling afraid.

Eleanor broke their eye contact first, and her pale skin starting to blush when she realized how long they were looking at each other for. There was a brief second she felt familiarity with him, but that thought was soon waved away. She couldn't even speak him, much less know him.

Pathetic. Pathetic and embarrassed is how she felt. She had such an established title at her coven, and yet she couldn't hold a conversation with a stranger. In fact, she couldn't even start one. Her wavering eyes fell in defeat. She stared at the marbled floor wondering why she even bothered to come. It was foolish to think she could change after being like this for so many years. And as she continued to gaze down, in the corner of her eyes, she watched as one of the petals of her flowers dropped to the ground.

'Moondance'. Eleanor had named the flower after a recollection she had one night - a memory of her younger, less-afraid self who shouted at the moon in frustration when one of her experiments went awry. And while maybe screaming at the Earth's satellite that was almost a quarter million miles away wasn't exactly logical nor useful, it was something that made her felt more free. It was something she wanted to do regardless of the weird looks her neighbors gave her for being a lunatic. It was something that made her feel brave.

Trembling fingers reached into her bunch of flowers, pulled one out, and displayed it to the alpha.

"For you.. To calm the frustrations that come with leadership." She offered softly. And she handed him his gift. Though her eyes still could not meet his again, at least she was able muster up this much courage. She was being brave, at least in her terms. She was proud. And she was proud that Emile would be proud.

"Let's go." The priestess said with a bashful smile, looking at the curious pair who also came to join them. "It's time to drink."

Code by Serobliss

 

[Uniko]

location

Dupont Ballroom

interactions

Roman tyranna -> Delori -ferret- , Zuriel Israel

"Hello boys," a light voice greeted from behind them, making Onyx pause in his gait with a startled hunch of his shoulders, "What're we getting into?"
And just like that. Before the devious duo could even get started, they were just as quickly intercepted by a appearance from Delori Sallow. The tiny witch from the Woodbanes that Onyx for some unexplainable reason could not shake. Despite his affliction against the witch clan, this particular little minx always managed to slip past his walls and infiltrate his personal bubble. Especially when he least expected it. He was not necessarily the type to brag-actually, who was he kidding? He absolutely was the type to do just that. But the point was that he was known for having one of the sharpest noses in the pack, even rivaling that of the Alpha's. And yet, he was unable to detect the scent and presence of the male witch currently standing behind him and Roman. How the hell did he do that? Onyx would always wonder, but also never really bother to ask as he rather not given Delori any more leverage he thinks he has over him.

And right when Onyx was about to fix his mouth to answer the young witch, and make up some sort of lie so he would leave, he felt a slight shift in Roman's scent, the usual easy going and nonchalant aura that his bi colored hair companion typically exuded was gone, and instead replaced with the scent of agitation, and some wariness layered underneath it. And if it was one thing Onyx knew about the beta, is that he only became like that when another werewolf was around. But not just any wolf, the Alpha. The inky haired Delta wolf directed his gazed towards the top of the grand, red carpet lined staircase where unmissable, massive form of their leader stood, and was looking right at them. Onyx involuntarily hitched his breath, before giving the alpha the quickest grins as terrible show that he was not about to do anything bad at this high profile event. But his efforts of exhibiting good faith to the man clearly went unnoticed as the alpha simply ignored the two after sending them that chilling look that could only mean what it usually does, don't do anything stupid.

The tiny wooden stick that has gone slack between his teeth while he was distracted by the Duncan Alpha arrival was suddenly plucked from his lips, and Onyx turned to see his beta had taken it and plopped it into his own teeth. And as oddly gross as that may have seemed to most, Onyx found the gesture completely natural. Perhaps it was just the instinctive canine in him that was used to such invasive actions amongst his pack, or maybe it was because it was just Roman. Though he did not really understand what the latter part of that meant. But regardless, stolen toothpick aside, he heard Roman confirm the cancellation their predisposed plans to Delori, and just like that, their fun was done. A low growl, that was meant to be more like a groan emitted from his throat, "Ugh, wait Roman-don't just leave man, we were supposed to-" but clearly Roman planned to have no further part of Onyx's plan as he waved them both off and departed into the throes of the mingling crowd.

"Well shit." Grumbled Onyx, his annoyed gaze sliding from Roman's dissipating form to Delori's. "So much for that." Perhaps he could save the bouncer for later. After all, it was probably still too early for anything fun to really happen anyway. "Hmm, nice dress. The red looks good with your make up." Onyx unexpectedly compliment. What the hell possessed to say that? He doubted it was the drink, after all, he's still only on his first glass of his classic vodka cranberry, but he was not the type to dish out compliments so easily. He could only assume that it must be some sort of witch craft that Del was doing, yeah that's it. But if anything, that though made him just as wary if not more so. Even though Onyx primary object of hatred will always be the ghouls, the Woodbanes were not that far behind with the creepy magick and unnatural acts. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine.

Then he felt something else raise the micro hairs on his neck up and Onyx looked up from Delori to see the electric eyes of none other than Zuriel Montarac staring right at them. Immediately Onyx's inner instinct took the direct look from the other foreign male as a challenge. It more than likely wasn't, and in most cases, it never is. But to Onyx, he considered damn near everything to be a challenge and he will never back down from one. Especially from a blood sucking Montarac. Also, he didn't take too well to be feeling like he was being watched, it felt like he was being watched for entertainment, and he was quite interested to know why. Downing the short glass of liquor in his hand in one gulp, Onyx dropped the now empty glass on the table and smirked at his new current companion, a slight hind of fang hanging over his bottom lip. "How about we go get you a drink, hm? What do you usually like? Something fruity right.." Onyx casually inquired to Delori as he began to suggestively lead the way towards the open bar that was conveniently in the same path as the Montarac son.

Now here was the fun part. Just as Onyx was within inches of passing by Zuriel on the way to the bar- he made it seem as if he did not notice the tall male standing right by him at that point and faked being bumped by a random passerby, which subsequently caused him to accidently push against Zuriel, making the glass of suspiciously red liquid slosh around in it's container and result in some of it spilling out and landing on it's owners obviously pristine ironed button up. This also caused some of the liquid to splash onto Onyx's upper lapel of his blazer, it would be a small price to pay in comparison. Onyx appeared to look mildly surprised from the accident, his golden gaze trailing from the red splotches drying onto the Montarac's shit; to his electric blue eyes that may instill fear in lesser beings, but definitely not him.

"Oh shit...that looks expensive. I guess you weren't watching where you were going man." He fabricated to the other male. His words coming off simple and seemingly harmless, but his tone spell a different intent behind his words. There was an underlying provocation there that he wanted the other man to pick up on and see if the notorious Montarac son was truly as dangerous as they say, or just another spineless rich asshole like the rest of his weird family. A quick glance out of his peripheral confirmed that Marcel was not watching him, and was thankfully being occupied by some of the other party goers. One of them in particular looking interestingly familar, but he slid those thoughts to the side for now as he continued to size up the vampire before him, awaiting his next move in regards to the spilled drink on such a nice looking shirt. “It’s dark though, so I’m sure no one will even notice it.”

Onyx Duncan

♡design by sirnateunknown, coded by uxie♡

 

[tyranna]

⧲ ⧲ ⧲

interactions:

Alexei

mentions:

Alexei and The Duncan's

location:

Dupont Ballroom

tags:

AreSneksSly

“Damn I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Well of course he did, that was his whole plan. He knew that. Alexei knew that. Anyone with a brain could tell that every action up until now was deliberate. Don’t be confused, Roman wasn’t the type to get rowdy at a charity gala, he also wasn’t the type to be invited to charity galas so maybe he was the type, and he was just never presented with the opportunity. Whatever.

Here he was, bothering the youngest member of one of the most opulent families that resided in Noxium. To put it from Roman’s perspective he was doing a great service to werewolves everywhere. Gotta rep the set after all.

Werewolves and vampires were (im)mortal enemies, it was his sworn duty to get their panties in a twist.

Roman wasn’t entirely sure what his relationship with vampires should be like. All he knew prior to his current life was what he recalled from pop culture. The Cullens had nothing on the Montaracs. He later picked up bits and pieces thanks to his pack, but even then, he didn’t truly understand the dynamics.

Fuck dynamics I’m doing what I want. And what he wanted at that moment was to play with a bat.

“Hunk? So, you admit it, you think I’m attractive.” The smirk that etched across his lips was provoking. If Roman could get Alexei to get out of character, even for a second, that would be enough to get him through the rest of the night. The Duncan Beta had to show the people their true colors. Snap everyone out of the Montarac spell.

Shit, they were better than the witches.

Back to the snide remarks Alexei had spewed.

“First off, you’re just jealous because you know you can’t pull this off.” Roman executed a girlish twirl with a mocking nature, showing off his fit in a 360° spin.


With his pinky fingers hooked on the sides of his lower lips, he pulled downward and grinned widely before releasing. “Secondly, my fangs would put yours to shame.”

“And lastly....” Roman’s voice trailed as he reached for Alexei’s chin craning it upward. The taller male leaned in, positioning his nose right near the vampire’s jugular vein. There was a brief pause, that felt like eons before he inhaled the other’s scent. “You’re the one that smells like rotting flesh.” Roman withdrew from the man, resisting the urge to grin as he waited for Alexei’s reaction.

“I hear there’s a fountain in the courtyard if you want to freshen up, I can drag you out there if you’d like.” Was that a threat or an invitation? Who knows?

Roman

♡design by yourlocal-eboyy, coded by uxie♡