Esme
The Hatbox Empress/Retired Admin
Accepted Players
Erisian Dialects
Esme
Goddess
Kinadra
Killigrew
Chaotic
Annuzzi
Please, Do Not Post Unapproved.
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What Fools These Mortals Be [Inactive]
- Thread starter Esme
- Start date
Accepted Players
Erisian Dialects
Esme
Goddess
Kinadra
Killigrew
Chaotic
Annuzzi
Please, Do Not Post Unapproved.
ErisianDialects
The Purple Sage
"Seriously girlie, I can't take you anywhere."
Milo was being himself. Aphrodite was at large as of the night before. Ever since then the entire family family had congregated to this mansion in Larissa. Birthday celebrations annoyed him no end, especially ones not on boats. He was a mariner and everyone knew it, it's why he got invited to every little thing. Because he'd decline.
He was set in his way as he looked at the bottom of the steps, the girl before him in the wheelchair, then back at the steps.
"And I swear by all that's divine, if you jinx me with what's the worst that could happen. Fuck. I hate you sometimes, kiddo."
It was his way, a curmudgeonly old man, the antilife to the life of the party. He would stroke his moustache before picking up the girl, slinging her unkemptly in her dress over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. he would heft the wheelchair to balance her out, and she'd hear a grumbled "Be glad I don't drink."
He would ascend the stairs with her, seeing another one at the foot of the door.
"Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with these people? Have they never heard of gangplanks?"
To hell with politeness, he would open the door, putting down the wheelchair and just dumping his granddaughter gently in the wheelchair. he would fix her hair and nod approvingly. She was his plus one. because of course they wouldn't invite her.
"Next time you can just gatecrash it, girlie. To hell with it, spice the damn event up some."
He knew who she was, he'd been there when hell had broken loose and she'd lost the ability to walk, more or less. It was his fault, or at least he blamed himself. He looked at the polished floor and smirked.
"Ten says you can't leave any wheelmarks on the floor before the night is out. HELLO THE HOUSE!"
A dinner suit, smelling faintly of salt and mothballs, an old oilskin hat on his head. He looked exactly like a nightmare idea of a houseguest at a formal dinner. With a completely improper plus one. Considering they probably weren't expecting him in the beautiful mansion, with his granddaughter no less. he would follow the sounds of chambermusic and murmured conversation. To Hades with invites.
He'd expected everyone to have gathered already, late as he was. But he'd walk to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it anyways. The extended family. Here to see that rather obnoxious, cantankerous seahag Olivia become the personification of beauty, like that'd happen this lifetime. He would pick up four glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, handed one down towards waist level, drained two without thinking for strength, and moved to a corner, taking out his pipe from a pocket and filling it, lighting it, waiting and passing the time as he slowly made Jones' house smell like burned tar.
Milo was being himself. Aphrodite was at large as of the night before. Ever since then the entire family family had congregated to this mansion in Larissa. Birthday celebrations annoyed him no end, especially ones not on boats. He was a mariner and everyone knew it, it's why he got invited to every little thing. Because he'd decline.
He was set in his way as he looked at the bottom of the steps, the girl before him in the wheelchair, then back at the steps.
"And I swear by all that's divine, if you jinx me with what's the worst that could happen. Fuck. I hate you sometimes, kiddo."
It was his way, a curmudgeonly old man, the antilife to the life of the party. He would stroke his moustache before picking up the girl, slinging her unkemptly in her dress over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. he would heft the wheelchair to balance her out, and she'd hear a grumbled "Be glad I don't drink."
He would ascend the stairs with her, seeing another one at the foot of the door.
"Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with these people? Have they never heard of gangplanks?"
To hell with politeness, he would open the door, putting down the wheelchair and just dumping his granddaughter gently in the wheelchair. he would fix her hair and nod approvingly. She was his plus one. because of course they wouldn't invite her.
"Next time you can just gatecrash it, girlie. To hell with it, spice the damn event up some."
He knew who she was, he'd been there when hell had broken loose and she'd lost the ability to walk, more or less. It was his fault, or at least he blamed himself. He looked at the polished floor and smirked.
"Ten says you can't leave any wheelmarks on the floor before the night is out. HELLO THE HOUSE!"
A dinner suit, smelling faintly of salt and mothballs, an old oilskin hat on his head. He looked exactly like a nightmare idea of a houseguest at a formal dinner. With a completely improper plus one. Considering they probably weren't expecting him in the beautiful mansion, with his granddaughter no less. he would follow the sounds of chambermusic and murmured conversation. To Hades with invites.
He'd expected everyone to have gathered already, late as he was. But he'd walk to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it anyways. The extended family. Here to see that rather obnoxious, cantankerous seahag Olivia become the personification of beauty, like that'd happen this lifetime. He would pick up four glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, handed one down towards waist level, drained two without thinking for strength, and moved to a corner, taking out his pipe from a pocket and filling it, lighting it, waiting and passing the time as he slowly made Jones' house smell like burned tar.
Chaotic
Retired Staff
Cold grey-blue eyes lifted from the screen of his iPhone as a rather boisterous and crude individual burst unceremoniously into the room before shouting a greeting. Eilum just sighed as he rubbed lightly at his temples before looking back at the short synapsis he had been working on. He should have never left his studio, mused the boy as he bit at a corner of his lip and typed in an even more agitated way than he had been doing since arriving early for this whole damned affair. Thinking that he could just come here and somehow instinctively pick out and be able to approach the deity he needed to speak with had been nothing more than stupidity. That realization didn’t detract from his desire to locate Hades eventually, but it did cause him somewhat more than a slight irritation.
He had hatched a plan a few months back during one of his depressive episodes in which he tended to live entirely in the stories on his laptop. It was a hairbrained scheme with a minor chance at success, but even a minor chance was something at this point. The great and powerful, albeit now parasitic, deities of old mythology were running out of time and options. Even so, he had little intention of giving out his idea for free. No, he had bigger designs and a strong need for a bargaining chip …
Again his eyes swept over the gathered godlings with a mischievous malice coloring their rather bored expression. If he found Hades, he could play his piece and see where the chips might fall … In all honesty, he would be more than zealous in the fight for their ultimate goal of renewal if promised even the slightest consideration of his request. Such desperation was the purview of vengeance, after all, and Eilum was most certainly beyond vengeful in this matter. He needed her brought back – needed her to suffer the same rejection and loathsome loneliness that he had been subjected to …
With a quick shake of his unkempt hair, the boy stood and took a drink after delicately tucking his phone away in his dress pants. Such thoughts did little to aid him right now. This was a party, and for the time being it was in his best interest to mingle and see what tidbits he could pick up on from conversations. Perhaps that would give him something to go on …
“Hello yourself,” he grinned boyishly as he approached the moldy smelling latecomer to the party, “as I doubt the house can reply in … well … any fashion really.” With a smile that didn’t quite make his eyes, he winked at the oldest godling he had ever seen in playfully teasing manner before making his way off to mingle with the others. The cloud of smoke around that one was most certainly a turn off if there had ever been one … but the need for information mandated at least some tact be shown in spite of his desire to snub the habit.
He had hatched a plan a few months back during one of his depressive episodes in which he tended to live entirely in the stories on his laptop. It was a hairbrained scheme with a minor chance at success, but even a minor chance was something at this point. The great and powerful, albeit now parasitic, deities of old mythology were running out of time and options. Even so, he had little intention of giving out his idea for free. No, he had bigger designs and a strong need for a bargaining chip …
Again his eyes swept over the gathered godlings with a mischievous malice coloring their rather bored expression. If he found Hades, he could play his piece and see where the chips might fall … In all honesty, he would be more than zealous in the fight for their ultimate goal of renewal if promised even the slightest consideration of his request. Such desperation was the purview of vengeance, after all, and Eilum was most certainly beyond vengeful in this matter. He needed her brought back – needed her to suffer the same rejection and loathsome loneliness that he had been subjected to …
With a quick shake of his unkempt hair, the boy stood and took a drink after delicately tucking his phone away in his dress pants. Such thoughts did little to aid him right now. This was a party, and for the time being it was in his best interest to mingle and see what tidbits he could pick up on from conversations. Perhaps that would give him something to go on …
“Hello yourself,” he grinned boyishly as he approached the moldy smelling latecomer to the party, “as I doubt the house can reply in … well … any fashion really.” With a smile that didn’t quite make his eyes, he winked at the oldest godling he had ever seen in playfully teasing manner before making his way off to mingle with the others. The cloud of smoke around that one was most certainly a turn off if there had ever been one … but the need for information mandated at least some tact be shown in spite of his desire to snub the habit.
Annuzzi
Servator
“Michael, listen to me, you must look at least somewhat presentable for her. You may have lit a fuse on that bridge, but it’s still standing and you can rebuild,” Hands clasped together behind his father’s back, the perfect mold of perfection. “Even fate says it’s to be true, and who knows, tonight you might actually make your mother and I proud.”
It wasn’t a place for him to speak, it never was. One thing his father, Hades himself, was good at and that was having the final word. But he guessed the DNA must have matched because so was Michael, with a good chunk more bull thrown into the mix. Without looking, he smile politely at a passing guest, glancing over them all, some family by blood, most by what was inside.
“I will not try and charm Olivia back into my life, I have told you this many a times-”
“And a man can still be wrong even when he thinks he is not. Honestly, boy, it’s exactly like your fascination with sticking your hands into someone, completely absurd and wrong and something your mother’s humoured for far too long.”
Michael’s shoulders tightened back, anger trickling down his spine like electricity. “What I do with my life, and whom I choose to associate with is none of your concern. And whether or not you and mother will or will not allow me to do something is not up for discussion, If anything, it should be how you thought this was fitting.”
The this of course, was the elaborate pulling of family into their household yet again. They’d done this every year since he’d turned 18. Of course this year the main reason wasn’t for him, it was for, he shuddered mentally, Olivia, another branch of the gods Zeus had churned out gods only know when. One year younger, she was a homely wench his and her parents were hoping to be gifted beauty from the oh so wonderful aphrodite. They wouldn’t truly celebrate for him regardless, the past years it had all been for the hope of the big man to come back down to them.
Disgusting.
“Michael.” The disappoint was laced in the name and how he loathed it. The door opened once more for a late arrival, and though he couldn’t see who, it wasn’t hard to guess from the scent that wafted over. His father’s brow’s dropped as his gaze fixated between legs. A loud greeting called out across the hall, quieting conversation for a moment.
“Michael, you didn’t.”
“I’ll speak with you later Father,” With a grin of shakespearean mischief he parted through the assembled, beelining for the late arrivals, stopping here and there to speak to odd aunts and uncles. As he broke through the other side of the people, his steps were sure but just in case he plucked a flute off of a passing tray as he moved closer as another was parting from their company.
“Greetings my esteemed guests. I hope the day finds you well in your travels from the waters.” He nodded towards Milo, the one he had purposefully sent an invitation too when it parents did not, before looking at whom he had brought as a date. She had the same air as his mother, a goddess, and given he had never met her before this, he took a guess as to which she was.
“Is there anything I may get for you?” His ‘you’ was ambiguous, aimed at both or either or, it mattered not.
It wasn’t a place for him to speak, it never was. One thing his father, Hades himself, was good at and that was having the final word. But he guessed the DNA must have matched because so was Michael, with a good chunk more bull thrown into the mix. Without looking, he smile politely at a passing guest, glancing over them all, some family by blood, most by what was inside.
“I will not try and charm Olivia back into my life, I have told you this many a times-”
“And a man can still be wrong even when he thinks he is not. Honestly, boy, it’s exactly like your fascination with sticking your hands into someone, completely absurd and wrong and something your mother’s humoured for far too long.”
Michael’s shoulders tightened back, anger trickling down his spine like electricity. “What I do with my life, and whom I choose to associate with is none of your concern. And whether or not you and mother will or will not allow me to do something is not up for discussion, If anything, it should be how you thought this was fitting.”
The this of course, was the elaborate pulling of family into their household yet again. They’d done this every year since he’d turned 18. Of course this year the main reason wasn’t for him, it was for, he shuddered mentally, Olivia, another branch of the gods Zeus had churned out gods only know when. One year younger, she was a homely wench his and her parents were hoping to be gifted beauty from the oh so wonderful aphrodite. They wouldn’t truly celebrate for him regardless, the past years it had all been for the hope of the big man to come back down to them.
Disgusting.
“Michael.” The disappoint was laced in the name and how he loathed it. The door opened once more for a late arrival, and though he couldn’t see who, it wasn’t hard to guess from the scent that wafted over. His father’s brow’s dropped as his gaze fixated between legs. A loud greeting called out across the hall, quieting conversation for a moment.
“Michael, you didn’t.”
“I’ll speak with you later Father,” With a grin of shakespearean mischief he parted through the assembled, beelining for the late arrivals, stopping here and there to speak to odd aunts and uncles. As he broke through the other side of the people, his steps were sure but just in case he plucked a flute off of a passing tray as he moved closer as another was parting from their company.
“Greetings my esteemed guests. I hope the day finds you well in your travels from the waters.” He nodded towards Milo, the one he had purposefully sent an invitation too when it parents did not, before looking at whom he had brought as a date. She had the same air as his mother, a goddess, and given he had never met her before this, he took a guess as to which she was.
“Is there anything I may get for you?” His ‘you’ was ambiguous, aimed at both or either or, it mattered not.
Goddess
Computer Nerd
"Lighten up Jess, this is just a party. No need to go cursing every male in your sights."
Jess let out a small laugh as she took a glass of wine off the silver tray the man had so graciously held out for her. She gave him a small head nod with little eye contact as she tried to listen to her friend Ashley comment on how many eye candy there were. She still couldn't understand why she had to come along to such a social event like this. The plane ride here was enough to make her cling to her seat and scream when the plane shook, now she had to deal with men gawking at other females and at most trying to land a one night hit with them. She took a sip of her wine hoping it would calm her nerves. Her right hand wrapped around her slender body as she tired to keep herself close to her friend and away from men who would walk past her. Ashley happened to look over at her friend who was giving glares toward strangers and hissing sounds every time she moved the tip of the glass away from her lips.
"Oh come on, just a few more hours and we'll be going home."
"You say that as if just a few more hours is 30 seconds. I wish you would have left me at home, I do have work to do."
Ashley laughed while she grabbed her arm and pulled her toward some young gentlemen who were talking about a new software for a gaming company. Trying her best not to spill her wine she followed her friend toward the group of five who all had two drinks in both hands. By the time they joined the circle Jess forcefully pulled her arm away and placed it under her right arm that held her drink. Jess always found Ashley to be rude , always interrupting others conversations just to be apart of it. The men didn't seem to mind her revolting laugh and her comments on the software even though she knew nothing about it. I kept quite though and would often look at the floor or at the walls. Of course I couldn't do that for long since I was pulled into the conversation with a pinch on my arm.
"Jess knows nearly everything about game design."
I shook my head no and gave a sharp glare toward Ashley when she turned her head in my direction. The men would laugh and make comments about how silly of a couple we were. There was one though that was rather eye catching yet gave off the air of someone that could be dangerous . He was in the middle of the group eyeing me while I tired to make Ashley stop including me into things. He had long black hair that stopped at his shoulders and his eyes were a light hazel. His voice was deeper than the others and he spoke in a tone where you would think he knows everything. He was staring at me for a while which of course made me shift into a more leaning position and with my head turned into another direction. I would glance back at him whenever he changed his gaze and admire him for a far. By the time I noticed the smell of smoke my glass was empty and he was there offering me another.
"Thank you."
Jess let out a small laugh as she took a glass of wine off the silver tray the man had so graciously held out for her. She gave him a small head nod with little eye contact as she tried to listen to her friend Ashley comment on how many eye candy there were. She still couldn't understand why she had to come along to such a social event like this. The plane ride here was enough to make her cling to her seat and scream when the plane shook, now she had to deal with men gawking at other females and at most trying to land a one night hit with them. She took a sip of her wine hoping it would calm her nerves. Her right hand wrapped around her slender body as she tired to keep herself close to her friend and away from men who would walk past her. Ashley happened to look over at her friend who was giving glares toward strangers and hissing sounds every time she moved the tip of the glass away from her lips.
"Oh come on, just a few more hours and we'll be going home."
"You say that as if just a few more hours is 30 seconds. I wish you would have left me at home, I do have work to do."
Ashley laughed while she grabbed her arm and pulled her toward some young gentlemen who were talking about a new software for a gaming company. Trying her best not to spill her wine she followed her friend toward the group of five who all had two drinks in both hands. By the time they joined the circle Jess forcefully pulled her arm away and placed it under her right arm that held her drink. Jess always found Ashley to be rude , always interrupting others conversations just to be apart of it. The men didn't seem to mind her revolting laugh and her comments on the software even though she knew nothing about it. I kept quite though and would often look at the floor or at the walls. Of course I couldn't do that for long since I was pulled into the conversation with a pinch on my arm.
"Jess knows nearly everything about game design."
I shook my head no and gave a sharp glare toward Ashley when she turned her head in my direction. The men would laugh and make comments about how silly of a couple we were. There was one though that was rather eye catching yet gave off the air of someone that could be dangerous . He was in the middle of the group eyeing me while I tired to make Ashley stop including me into things. He had long black hair that stopped at his shoulders and his eyes were a light hazel. His voice was deeper than the others and he spoke in a tone where you would think he knows everything. He was staring at me for a while which of course made me shift into a more leaning position and with my head turned into another direction. I would glance back at him whenever he changed his gaze and admire him for a far. By the time I noticed the smell of smoke my glass was empty and he was there offering me another.
"Thank you."
Esme
The Hatbox Empress/Retired Admin
It was an hour ago Mel had learned of the party in a rather unofficial way. Milo had shown up at her apartment door, handed her a dress to put on and told her they were going out. And now, here she was, still trying to fix herself from the rather unceremonious carrying up the steps she could have handled on her own.
“You know, you don’t have to yell, I’m sure they’ll know we’re here readily enough.”
As a glass was passed down to her she rolled her eyes and accepted it. Running her fingertip over the brim of the glass, she got a bad feeling in her gut about the whole thing. Of course, that feeling only grew when someone stepped their way, tossing out a rather curt phrase before moving back off.
It was at that point she brought the glass to her lips, tilted it back, and downed the thing in one shot. Absolutely disgusting in taste. It was going to be a long, painful night alright. As another waiter passed by on the fringes of people actually invited, she raised up her hand and wheeled herself a bit closer as they looked at her. With a naive smile, he passed down a glass of red wine, explaining it was a cherry blend.
She moved back closer to Milo as another male popped up, greeting them formally. As he asked a question, she shrugged out a joking, “An escape route?”
“You know, you don’t have to yell, I’m sure they’ll know we’re here readily enough.”
As a glass was passed down to her she rolled her eyes and accepted it. Running her fingertip over the brim of the glass, she got a bad feeling in her gut about the whole thing. Of course, that feeling only grew when someone stepped their way, tossing out a rather curt phrase before moving back off.
It was at that point she brought the glass to her lips, tilted it back, and downed the thing in one shot. Absolutely disgusting in taste. It was going to be a long, painful night alright. As another waiter passed by on the fringes of people actually invited, she raised up her hand and wheeled herself a bit closer as they looked at her. With a naive smile, he passed down a glass of red wine, explaining it was a cherry blend.
She moved back closer to Milo as another male popped up, greeting them formally. As he asked a question, she shrugged out a joking, “An escape route?”
Killigrew
Magnificent Humanicorn
Erronius Fench had half an idea what he was doing here. A fraction of an idea, if he was being honest. The small swarm of people in the extravagant room was not within his comfort zone. They swirled and spoke among and with one another as though they belonged, as though they were part of the riches so ingrained in the architecture around them. Erron stood out like a sore thumb in his flip-flops, in his un-tucked and disheveled shirt, and the awkward haircut that itched upon his head. He took a sip of his champagne and watched the door, seeing the crowd that gathered and wondering how to approach.
They were all like him, right? With strange, unnatural things taking place? With their worldview crashed open, ripped apart by the experience they'd all shared?
Or were they different? Had they been prepared? And had that been enough?
Erron coughed as the liquor bubbled down his throat. Sure, the thing being inside him had its upsides, but it wasn't enough in his opinion. It wasn't worth the cost.
He downed the rest of his glass and sought out another.
They were all like him, right? With strange, unnatural things taking place? With their worldview crashed open, ripped apart by the experience they'd all shared?
Or were they different? Had they been prepared? And had that been enough?
Erron coughed as the liquor bubbled down his throat. Sure, the thing being inside him had its upsides, but it wasn't enough in his opinion. It wasn't worth the cost.
He downed the rest of his glass and sought out another.
ErisianDialects
The Purple Sage
"Hello, Liam isn't it? I know it's an L name."
They didn't move in a lot of the same circles, Milo being a common, uneducated, labourer. he didn't like leaving the sea for long, but the offer to the extended family for fishing trips were usually open if they seemed the type. He didn't often come to gatherings and parties, unless it was needed. In this case he would have gatecrashed.
With Aphrodite gone, he was pretty much the oldest 'god' remaining walking. Mind you, he had supported the old girl's efforts.
"Oh, you never know, houses creak and sing. Might be it's way of telling you what's wrong with it."
He would let the young man go off and mingle, a faint smile and shake of the head.
"Kids today, if they can't see you at eye level, they ignore you."
A tsk as he saw their host cut through the crowd.
"Happy birthday, kid."
Milo would pat his suit down for a minute, before finally extracting a small box. It was actually neatly wrapped, even if the bow was a bit flat. A half dozen old coins he'd found out and about, back when coinage meant something, in a nice small box.
"I don't think you've met my granddaughter properly, have you? Mikey, this is Mel. Mel, our host for the evening, because the horrible grey nurse who is his mother tore my name out of her social index when I refused to marry her."
The last five words were spoken a little louder as the woman in question approached, two discreet security men following her. Social climbers and gold diggers, all the same. He knew she was a lawyer, a good one, and Milo's arms crossed ready for a loving, defensive battle. He would gently prod Michael in the ankle with his foot, and a wink to the young man.
"Mel, what do you think, in this situation, is the worst that could happen?"
The woman's eyes widened but still she strode forward, in a beatuiful dress that probably cost the GNP of a small country. Her voice was loud, enough to know that a scene was incoming. She always had a flair for the dramatic. Her voice would echo with an imperialistic tone that begged no argument from most.
"Milo, get out of my house this instant. It's for invited guests only."
Milo just folded his arms and took an invite out of his pocket, holding it up so that they could see that he was invited.
"Try again."
She turned her glare onto Michael.
"Mykhail, did you invite this tramp? I mean, the class of women he used to hang around with was horrible, but he never even bothered with cripples before."
"Whoops."
Milo leaned back with a grin, beckoning a waiter over with a tray of full glasses, which he took. This was going to get interesting.
They didn't move in a lot of the same circles, Milo being a common, uneducated, labourer. he didn't like leaving the sea for long, but the offer to the extended family for fishing trips were usually open if they seemed the type. He didn't often come to gatherings and parties, unless it was needed. In this case he would have gatecrashed.
With Aphrodite gone, he was pretty much the oldest 'god' remaining walking. Mind you, he had supported the old girl's efforts.
"Oh, you never know, houses creak and sing. Might be it's way of telling you what's wrong with it."
He would let the young man go off and mingle, a faint smile and shake of the head.
"Kids today, if they can't see you at eye level, they ignore you."
A tsk as he saw their host cut through the crowd.
"Happy birthday, kid."
Milo would pat his suit down for a minute, before finally extracting a small box. It was actually neatly wrapped, even if the bow was a bit flat. A half dozen old coins he'd found out and about, back when coinage meant something, in a nice small box.
"I don't think you've met my granddaughter properly, have you? Mikey, this is Mel. Mel, our host for the evening, because the horrible grey nurse who is his mother tore my name out of her social index when I refused to marry her."
The last five words were spoken a little louder as the woman in question approached, two discreet security men following her. Social climbers and gold diggers, all the same. He knew she was a lawyer, a good one, and Milo's arms crossed ready for a loving, defensive battle. He would gently prod Michael in the ankle with his foot, and a wink to the young man.
"Mel, what do you think, in this situation, is the worst that could happen?"
The woman's eyes widened but still she strode forward, in a beatuiful dress that probably cost the GNP of a small country. Her voice was loud, enough to know that a scene was incoming. She always had a flair for the dramatic. Her voice would echo with an imperialistic tone that begged no argument from most.
"Milo, get out of my house this instant. It's for invited guests only."
Milo just folded his arms and took an invite out of his pocket, holding it up so that they could see that he was invited.
"Try again."
She turned her glare onto Michael.
"Mykhail, did you invite this tramp? I mean, the class of women he used to hang around with was horrible, but he never even bothered with cripples before."
"Whoops."
Milo leaned back with a grin, beckoning a waiter over with a tray of full glasses, which he took. This was going to get interesting.
Esme
The Hatbox Empress/Retired Admin
"Hey, nice to meet you," Mel smiled, before reaching into the bad like thing that was attached to her chair. " I believe this would be yours then, for the year older tradition."
From the bag she pulled out a flat wrapped present, something she had wrapped quickly while getting pushed out the door. With another soft smile she extended it to Mikey.' Inside was a painting she had done a week prior, a modern Olympus of sorts. It seemed fitting so she had figured it'd do on short notice.
As it seemed, she had missed a queue of social order being called as she looked up surprised when Milo asked her a question. The hand in her lap tightened, and she started counting down. Small things were short, usually harmless. Big things were longer, and brought with them a migraine the size of Russia.
“Crud,” She muttered. The short ones didn’t tick past 15.
Still tapping a count, she listened to the woman fight with her grandfather, demanding he leave before turning on her son. But that was when she had taken a crack at her. Her spine straightened in a sort of defiance to the term ‘cripple.’
“Excuse you?” Her voice was firm, contained. A few of the closer ones had already been looking from the woman’s first words and she wasn’t about to draw the attention of more.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, or think you are but you just crossed two big lines. Firstly, what right do you have to ever speak of anyone like that when they’re right in front of you. And secondly, how dare you refer to me as a cripple like I’m a degraded nonhuman. I may be in a chair but I’m damn well not crippled, though your mind seems narrow enough for the term to apply to you. You’d think with a class representation like this, “ She gestured to the building around them, “You’d have manners and tact, but I suppose you just got the ego and pride instead.”
She took a breath in, before her eyes seemed to darken. Her numbers had caught up to her, and in a much darker tone of voice, one that echoed with an unnatural wisdom and mischief she leaned back, folding her arms in her lap.
“And it seems fitting that no one is going to get what they want tonight.”
From the bag she pulled out a flat wrapped present, something she had wrapped quickly while getting pushed out the door. With another soft smile she extended it to Mikey.' Inside was a painting she had done a week prior, a modern Olympus of sorts. It seemed fitting so she had figured it'd do on short notice.
As it seemed, she had missed a queue of social order being called as she looked up surprised when Milo asked her a question. The hand in her lap tightened, and she started counting down. Small things were short, usually harmless. Big things were longer, and brought with them a migraine the size of Russia.
“Crud,” She muttered. The short ones didn’t tick past 15.
Still tapping a count, she listened to the woman fight with her grandfather, demanding he leave before turning on her son. But that was when she had taken a crack at her. Her spine straightened in a sort of defiance to the term ‘cripple.’
“Excuse you?” Her voice was firm, contained. A few of the closer ones had already been looking from the woman’s first words and she wasn’t about to draw the attention of more.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, or think you are but you just crossed two big lines. Firstly, what right do you have to ever speak of anyone like that when they’re right in front of you. And secondly, how dare you refer to me as a cripple like I’m a degraded nonhuman. I may be in a chair but I’m damn well not crippled, though your mind seems narrow enough for the term to apply to you. You’d think with a class representation like this, “ She gestured to the building around them, “You’d have manners and tact, but I suppose you just got the ego and pride instead.”
She took a breath in, before her eyes seemed to darken. Her numbers had caught up to her, and in a much darker tone of voice, one that echoed with an unnatural wisdom and mischief she leaned back, folding her arms in her lap.
“And it seems fitting that no one is going to get what they want tonight.”
Annuzzi
Servator
Michael smiled politely as he was introduced, offering a soft hello to Milo’s Mel. A look of confusion passed over his face as he was offered a present, and then another. It had been many a years since someone had even thought to say Happy Birthday to him, let alone offer something. With a bashful sort of half bow, he said a polite,
“Thank you.”
A question passed between his two guests, before a shrill, all too familiar voice echoed through his skull. Straightening up, he pulled on his suit jacket and folded his arms neatly, the two gifts cradled on the left side. He let them pass words before she turned on him with venom in her speech, but then maybe it was the acrid air she always held about her. He questioned for a moment how it rub off, let alone suffocate him.
“Mother, they are -”
He turned his head, looking towards Mel. Was she truly taking on Hera? In the latter’s house? His right hand alighted to his breast, feeling his heart skip a beat. Never had he met someone with enough brass to speak to the woman like this before, not even Father. But the words she uttered came to be dark, not violent, just dark. But he followed her mark, and with a gruff clearing of his throat, he nodded.
“They are my personal guests to our affair this evening, if you have a problem, you make speak with me of it in private, but should you attempt to remove them, I shall create a tiff and offer shame to you in a fitting manner. Streaking down the banisters seems apt in a situation like this.”
Though his tone was serious, he held the soft charm of childish play within his eyes. Something dangerous to a man who cared not what a room full of people thought of him.
“Thank you.”
A question passed between his two guests, before a shrill, all too familiar voice echoed through his skull. Straightening up, he pulled on his suit jacket and folded his arms neatly, the two gifts cradled on the left side. He let them pass words before she turned on him with venom in her speech, but then maybe it was the acrid air she always held about her. He questioned for a moment how it rub off, let alone suffocate him.
“Mother, they are -”
He turned his head, looking towards Mel. Was she truly taking on Hera? In the latter’s house? His right hand alighted to his breast, feeling his heart skip a beat. Never had he met someone with enough brass to speak to the woman like this before, not even Father. But the words she uttered came to be dark, not violent, just dark. But he followed her mark, and with a gruff clearing of his throat, he nodded.
“They are my personal guests to our affair this evening, if you have a problem, you make speak with me of it in private, but should you attempt to remove them, I shall create a tiff and offer shame to you in a fitting manner. Streaking down the banisters seems apt in a situation like this.”
Though his tone was serious, he held the soft charm of childish play within his eyes. Something dangerous to a man who cared not what a room full of people thought of him.
Esme
The Hatbox Empress/Retired Admin
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