Zidane held himself well, considering how out of place he felt among the rabble. Fingers curling around the clasps of necklaces, hands wrapping around new folk in greeting only for rings to vanish. This sort of game made the boredom less taxing, but seemed to do little to diminish it. He kept an eye on the creepy old man and familiar, white-haired princess. Though he found most high brow, older gentlemen weird, these two were especially odd. He watched as Jasmine danced with the goober, but the older creep watched the passing girls in a way he felt was a little obscene, but maybe it was his imagination? He should keep on his toes just in case.
As a thief he was trained to keep alert at all times. The boy himself was innately clever and quick-witted. He was expecting some devious plot like an assassination or intricate network of smugglers in this type of crowd. But what came next was not in his book of 'things to be expected'. In fact it wasn't even in the ballpark of his initial thoughts. Loud baying, which was reminiscent of wailing Goblins, screeched across the dancing hall. It was one of those scenarios that few planned for, but after a few drinks anyone could go a little nuts and try to sing a song not quite made for their vocals. Turning his crystal blue eyes unto the crowd he realized it was his name that was being so eloquently drawled out like a string of consonants bumbling over any attempts at civil conversation.
The dress was indicative of a pure maiden, yet the face was certainly only something a mother could love. The grace of a Chocobo on stilts with the abrasive voice of a sword being slammed against a tin roof. Who was this shining mistress? It was a very drunk and stumble, unshaven, mister. There was enough fuzz on the mongrel of a man to a bushel of peaches. Zidane had to stifle his laughter. He much more appreciated the wolf drunk. This was a sight! The rogue wrapped his arms around his waist and bit back a laugh before brushing the tears from his eyes. People were already staring, talking. A chill crawled down his spine. Something was going down. It was probably best to be in the open where he held a better vantage point.
Zidane pushed through the throngs of whispering nobles and held out his arms. "My princess, my the twin moons must have fallen into your eyes, such a brilliant gaze!" The performer boasted of the wolf princess' beauty.
When Zidane drew close he was struck by the horrid stench upon the princess. It was enough to make eyes water, but the thief was, sadly, very used to foul smells like this. Growing up on the streets, and with several brothers in cramped spaces, who were about as tidy as a box full of baby Zhagnols, it was easy to come face to face with the most nightmarish of scents and peculiar molds defined to certain types of pigstys. Really all very educational but it was also something that gave a boost to his constitution which left Zidane a hard guy to surprise. He wasn’t even all that overcome by Albion’s current, and honestly distressing state. He had invited the guy to come hang out but he must have some indiscernible issues that remained when it came to coming out in public that he needed a full on dose of liquid courage. He wasn’t put off by the smell, but he was sure guests were. It was a putrid combination the rogue could easily describe as sweaty socks and unwashed undershorts. It was a stink the rogue knew well and could thank his brothers for. He moved to take the wolf’s hand and bowed his head politely and in an exaggerated manner that mocked the assembly of chivalrous men. In truth chivalry wasn’t something that should be reserved for women. One should try hard to be a courteous to everyone, unless they were shitty and didn’t deserve it!
Some folk just needed a good punch in the jaw! “Come on Princess… you got a lil something there…” He moved to grip the wolf’s face with his thumb pressed on his jaw point to keep him from locking that slobbering maw over the bottle of liquor he had handy.
The thief would try to drag him off to a less conspicuous corner to talk to him. Hopefully the drunk complied without much of a fight, but sometimes wishes didn’t come true. The rogue would attempt to settle in the corner, behind a column, with the plastered wreck. Zidane reached into his surcoat to draw his blade in a discreet manner. No need to alert the bigwigs he was armed. Sure folk got screened on the way in, but folk with magic likely got passed with ease and the thief was pretty sure there was no screening for that, however rare the trait was. He would laugh out and move to push up on his tip toes, his tail shifting under the back of his coat.
“You look like shit man, come here. Don’t move unless you wanna become an artist.” Zidane would move the sharp blade in attempt to shave the blitzed mongrel. Maybe he was a little too good at this. “Why the hell are you so smashed? Didn’t I tell ya we was going to a party? It can be assumed drinks are on the house, not bring your own.” He teased. “Something creep is goin’ on you know? This many old, rich folk don’t gather without trouble, or maybe even a -- good story to catch.” Though he was more trained on the idea of a heist. Something he wouldn’t mind undermining and taking for himself.
►NOTES: I made an obscure art joke. Smooth criminal.
►SKILLS USED: N/A
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO
A woman that held the air of royalty, though her initial greeting towards them was quite casual, she has shown that she was able to retain the teaching that were usually common with those of royalty. It was actually quite impressive to see different cultures all gather forth such as this. With these different cultures it was easy to see which beings were really not of this world and judging by appearances Mateus could only say that there were merely a handful of them. Some held an air of elegance, some held wisdom and hidden deceit, some were normal, and some were just distasteful…
The voice of a rouge was something that would not bother him, especially after having dealt with such a troublesome boy for a few cycles. His attention was drawn towards his dance partner and he could only close his eyes and chuckle slightly “ah, I see magic is something not well practiced where you are from” Mateus said opening his eyes calmly. “Magic is something anybody in my world can practice, a tool that anybody can obtain should they make the necessary effort really. I merely am more proficient in the art of magi craft than mere physical craft” Mateus said.
Reaching out, Mateus took grasp of the dear princess’s hand and begun to follow the necessary steps that were needed for the dance that they were to take place in. Mateus was an observant one and he wasn’t merely staring out in the distance when he was speaking to the old master. The dance and music held an air of elegance and so it was only fitting that the emperor was able to effectively learn and preform such an action with ease. It was a simple dance, and one he was glad that his partner was able to keep up with.
She spoke about this culture that this meeting brought, that this gathering was for different lands to gather forth together in harmony, but such a thing was laughable. There would always be those of evil that will sin, it was in human nature to sin after all. Greed was in all being, but could he say the same about the woman before him? A heart filled with pure light; did that mean she was free of ill will? Free of sin? It was more of a curious thing as things continued to move forth. It brought forth the thought of the old master he spoke with and made him wonder what that master had planned for those girls.
Closing his eyes Mateus smiled “ah, it was no trouble to change, such an attire seemed…interesting” Mateus said opening his eyes “you are correct to say such a thing about this gathering. To gather forth and learn about what is out there past one’s domain is a gift. It is interesting to see different aspects of the land. This land for example differs greatly from my own. My own kingdom has been situated in a land of sand, trapped in the desert. Harsh sun and powerful monsters that roam the land…it is a tough land, in comparison this land has been gifted with what looks like a beautiful ocean…one that seems to bless this land” Mateus said. “It is only through collaboration that my land has been able to survive well. Unions between kingdoms have aided me and my people greatly…as such a union in a place such as this may possibly hold similar effects” Mateus said. He did not lie and spoke genuinely, he believed unions could would, but the history behind those words was written in blood. The very “unions” he spoke of was merely brutally taking over a kingdom.
As Zidane pushed his less-than-impressive stature through the crowds between himself and Albion, the wolf in human skin continued on with about as much grace as a cat wearing mittens. He stumbled upon the ends of his dress, as his long strides carried him forward with neither confidence nor balance. As the two collided, Albion did indeed wrap his arm around Zidane's shoulder, while the shorter man cupped Albion's face. The flattery was both off putting and welcome. Perhaps due to his drunken state...
"Princhess?" Albion slovenly echoed, allowing Zidane to lead him about and do as he pleased. The face touching continued, and Albion was too out of it to really understand what the little tail-man was doing, let alone fight it. Albion clumsily followed along with Zidane, as the latter pulled him out of the way. "Firstuh..." Albion fumbled his tongue, "...You try ta butter my baguette by, uhm...by...callin' my princhess, Zidden... Now you're-" Albion thrust one arm outward, gesturing to the room as he raised his voice with the following word, "-Dragging!-" He took his tone down to a more appropriate volume again, "-me away... Are you embarrassed of me, or...do-do you jus' want me to yourself?" The words of a truly drunk buffoon.
Zidane's following words answered his question, at least partly... "You look like shit man, come here." Albion scoffed, hands slapping the outer sections of his thighs, as if calling attention to his attire. "I...loooook...great... You're just, ahm, you jus-st...jealoussst." Albion kept his head relatively still, feeling some unusual sensation crawling across the surface of his skin, unknowing exactly what it was. His eyes continued to drift in and out of attention in a haze, so they were hardly reliable now. He attempted to swipe lightly at Zidane with one hand, but missed by a mile. "And I'm a greatest art already!" He snapped back sluggishly, "Or...I'm a...g-great artist..." Albion raised each of his hands in front of himself, extending his fingers poorly and raising each one up and down with about as much coordination as a spider with only 2 legs. In his mind, it was a perfect display of piano playing skill, but in reality, it was...something...
When prompted regarding his reasons for being so drunk, in truth, the hound made man didn't really know... He remembered the offer, he remembered thinking about the offer in a pub over a drink. Next thing he knew, here he was. Maybe that blank spot would come back later, maybe not. "I d-donnoooo..." His voice was almost a low howl, befitting of his natural state. Though his mood sombered significantly when Zidane prompted him with some interesting developments. Even drunk, something did feel off to Albion about this party. Or about some of the guests... Maybe it was animal instinct, maybe not. Either way, he supposed it might be fun to stick around for a little while. At least until he passed out on a table or something.
"What do you have in mind?" Albion's words came out as sluggishly as any of the others, but carried a somewhat more mischievous tone. While normally he kept to himself, being drunk provided the perfect opportunity to cause trouble. "I got youOOR...baaack."
“The people don’t have the greatest experience with sorcery.”
There was a trend, a pattern, that it attracted hearts with ill-will, to desire to control and rule without empathy or care for their subjects. It’s as if magic made them feel like living gods, so they placed themselves on unreasonable tall fragile pedestals.
She chuckled at his delicate word choice, how interesting.
“Or so we hope,” she added, while her body naturally followed his rhythm and guidance, “and I’ve my life full of desert. My world is the same; fortunately the only monsters we may see are the heartless, and I think once I heard of a sighting of a giant worm.”
She shrugged off in bashfulness at the silly thought, “The worlds have many mysteries even or own, and with unions and open doors come…many opportunities. It all comes down to braving through the assortments,” like a find party, “the wonders,” like the endless ocean, “the ventures,” like stepping into a whole new world, “and the darkness,” like the fiends crawling on the ceiling. For a moment, she was silent; her eyes were distance sensing their faint present. They once scared her, but now smile spread on her face as she romanticized worldly travels.
Is he even aware, or does his sorcery have limits?
Was he the puppeteer or just an unknowing guest?
Still with the magic he displayed, she's sure he can handle himself. It may actually be a spectacle to see.
With her journeys with Aladdin, she felt competent and ready for this. It almost felt dangerous, the desire to prove herself, her husband, her people, and the worlds. He wouldn’t be joyous of her being here without him, but he’ll be less anxious if she had a tale of a tale to tell. Plus, he knew how defiant she can be when angered or challenged. Right now the darkness tested her, while it unnerved Belle.
Heartless were darkness and everyone in this room excluding another had it in their hearts; some were more prevalent than others, but Jasmine wouldn’t break her politeness with rudeness and prejudice. But someone called them, but she couldn’t solve riddles, dance, and talk at the same time without slipping.
“So, which brought you here than simply being interesting?”
It was interesting to hear the woman speak. Magic was a powerful tool, and such a tool was quite was quite easy to misuse. Despite this magic was not quite different than any weapon in the eyes of Mateus. Anyone could swing a blade, but only a skilled man could truly make such a blade strike fear in a person’s heart. Magic was something like this; however need more dedication to learn more sacrifices, more power. Mateus had done numerous things, sacrificed his very life to gain powers that could threaten the entire world.
Weapons of mass destruction, spells that can tear lands asunder, Mateus would obtain it all to fulfil his objectives and desires. He was a master of magic, but even so, it was magic itself that destroyed him and ruined his desires. Just thinking of those rebels and how they defeated him infuriated, enraged him, and left the man furious. Those mere worms dared to oppose him and with that blasted Ultima they were able to end him. Even know such a thought would be present currently, but Mateus was a composed man. He held two sides of his being, the wrathful emperor of hell, and the tranquil emperor of heaven. The sheer tranquil nature of the heaven emperor allowed him to retain his calm demeanour and utilize the power of light. Truly in his state his mind was clear as a being of light.
As they continued to dance, Mateus chose to respond to the princess’s words. “It is as I said, I am here to see such a union take place” Mateus said as his eyes closed calmly with a smile, continuing to move to the music and still keeping to the steps of the dance professionally even without his sight. “The young prince’s desires are…adamant and quite respectable, but even so, such an event, while it may strengthen the bonds of worlds…it may hold an opposite effect” Mateus said softly. “There are those with ill will, men or women that desire to cause chaos or destruction on their own whim or merely for selfish reasons” Mateus said softly smiling. “I had hoped to see what path this union would go forth in. Would it cause an unbreakable bond between countless lands separated by space, or perhaps such a union would open up discord borrowed from different lands” Mateus said chuckling softly. “however even now…discord looms above us all…waiting to strike at the right time” Mateus said opening his eyes.
He could sense it no problem, the beings of darkness that remained up above ready to strike when opportune. The chance that it was the work of the old man he had spoken to earlier was pretty high, but even so there may have been others roaming around with ill intent or perhaps it was a natural thing. If anything it opened up the possibilities of something interesting.
Post by masterxehanort on Feb 15, 2015 23:37:37 GMT -5
The boots carried him with an aged grace not unlike that of a gentleman, no matter how cruel. Deceitful cold eyes continued to dart underneath that seemingly perfect ruse, every detail absorbed with a never-ending struggle to remain the master puppeteer.
Gluttonous beasts of nobility gorged themselves on appetizers and their own pride, false princesses of pathetic lands believed their beauty to be divine, ever-stressed and impatient servants rushed across the crowds to contain the mayhem and ensure stability. It would all be so droll and weary were it not for those two radiant beauties, who housed unbeknownst to them the very key to the destruction of everything around them. The irony almost brought a genuine smile to the man's face.
The eyes continued to glide, the face of the naive prince occupying his time oh so briefly until they fell upon yet another maiden who seemed rather....
Not a maiden. A buffoon. Man had always housed much to be despised, yet intoxication was always a rather....humorous variable that one would have some difficulty in calculating. The blonde haired one peeked not his interest, but instead his disdain.
Is this what they intended to create? A conglomeration of petty clowns and foolish so-called "heroes?"
The minions of darkness up above twitched in agony, the wickedness of the countless below called out to them in a thunderous choir. and the two pure lights continued to beckon to them like sirens.
Like a dog heeling to its master, the shadows refused the call of the lights once more, and continued to observe silently as they danced up above.
The orbs glanced to the newly formed duo of his former conversationalist and the ever adamant Princess of Agrabah. Was it a sense of protectiveness? Jealousy? Is that what welled up inside him? Or was it...envy? To touch upon the skin of someone so pure, who housed such a precious, precious gift. The thoughts soon dissipated however, as there was so much more to accomplish than the meager seeking of prizes that would be won regardless.
The orbs fell upon her at last.
The innocence remained. The ruse still in full effect.
"A maiden such as yourself should not have to sit idly by with a mere novel." The man said, bowing respectively, "Mi'lady."
The novel that she held did indeed spur on a brief moment of pure curiosity. So many tomes had been read and reread, countless epics and myths absorbed, information and lore funneling into the confines of his mind. They gifted him with their knowledge, knowledge of the Great Keyblade war. But there was still so much to learn, so many questions left unanswered. In the end, the Twenty Pieces would unlock the answers to all of the questions.
Everything would be returned to perfection.
Still, the book perplexed the man briefly. It might very well have been one of the countless others he had observed during his days as a Wielder, and the years as a Seeker. But, like all other things, it mattered not. She mattered.
Looking out into the dancing crowd, the rhythm of the music, the head and gaze returned back to her with a smile and a calmly outstretched arm.
"Could you find it within your heart to gift this man with but one dance?"
Her eyes locked with his as a brow quirk with a smile, "so you can feel them too? I can't tell who calls them. It would be rude to accuse and point fingers; darkness is natural after all until there's an obsession. Too much of anything can be in poor tastes."
The waltz moved in spinning circles about the dancefloor; there were too many unknown faces and bodies. She couldn't even spot the Prince in a party of this magnitude. Perhaps THIS was too naive; he opened his world to anything and everything. Innocent people can be caught in the crossfires. Why would anyone want to do this here? No one should know what she is or Belle, so they couldn't have attracted a devious scheme. Then again would they be obvious to anyone who are knee deep in darkness; the light is bright. Would they be as noticeable as a flame in the night?
Would they be a suspicion and curiosity? Can he tell, her nameless dance partner. He didn't mention a thing, but with their on-going conversation, it wouldn't transition well. Additionally it would send a red flag and make her inwardly tense.
"At this rate, it would be even harder. I'm not sure if this is mischief or worst." Speaking of the worst, where was Belle? Did the bookworm slip away to a quieter spot with her literary companion? Being alone right now wasn't ideal. A sinking feel spiraled in her heart. She should've reached out to Belle sooner before this. Did she ever prepare herself for something like this, or were they all just as vulnerable as the day they were kidnapped?
"If it turns for the worst, I'll have to cut our dance short. I don't have the greatest experience with the heartless. If they strike, what will you do? You're too gifted to be idle," she complimented, "and something tells me you're observant. Humor me with a guess."
[I delayed long enough lovely people. Next Round February 23]
Last Edit: Feb 19, 2015 12:16:48 GMT -5 by jasmine
Zidane kept his grip best he could on the ranting wolf's face. His gloved fingers dug against the bones of his chiseled features, his grip both firm and gentle. These were the fingers of someone who was more than a simple bard, a clever stagehand. Even as Albion jerked and shifted taller than what Zidane could easily reach: he never lost his grip, his reaction the quite quick. Even Zidane had parts of his life he did not speak of openly, everyone did. It was not due to shame, or being unable to trust Albion, but it was more of a convenience. Why burden Albion with that sort of information? He wasn't some criminal and he hasn't been that charming bandit in so long that he did not feel he should boast. He hadn't the right, not right now. This was his chance to steal something grand and regain his pride as a thief. He was a member of Tantalus after all!
The thief sucked his teeth at the wolf's drunken slurs. He was glad the guy was with him, even if he was sloshed out his mind. He was sure, at this point, Albion would agree to anything. Zidane sighed and wiped the shaven hairs on a handkerchief he borrowed from one of the nobles. It was hard seeing Albion like this. He was no saint himself to condemn the shapeshifter's love of spirits, heck Zidane would drink himself under the table any day! But this was something different. It was a sad drink. The smell of the alcohol was harsh, nothing that's drunk for fun, but drank to forget. He felt like a rotten friend for not realizing sooner that his request put Albion in a spot. He could have said no, but the thief got the feeling the wolf hadn't anyone else to turn to.
"Hey man...," the rogue reached up again to turn his face and resume the rough shave. Luckily a sharp knife made this easy. "You should have waited or me." He grinned. "Drinking with a buddy is way more fun… I don't think a good friend leaves his buddy to drink alone. So next time don't leave me to get drunk by myself at a party!" He softly laughed.
But it was not his true meaning. Zidane deflected the burden off Albion so he did not feel blamed. He didn't want Albion drinking alone, because that was painful. He still wasn't sure what hurt Albion so, but he would remain by his side because that was what friends do. He wanted to let the wolf know he understood and did not blame him for those complicated emotions. Zidane provided his support.
"Wherever you go, call me and I'll be right over for a drink." He winked and wiped off his blade of that gunky hair one last time.
Sheathing the knife the rogue walked toward one of the waiters to grab himself a glass of liquor, avoiding the wine wholeheartedly. He really hated sweet things… returning to Albion's side he would press his left thumb and index to support his chin as he held a sagely gaze upon the shaven wolf. He still had a shadow, but it was a lot less obscene than it had been. Zidane nodded appreciatively at his own work. Taking a sip of the liquor the rogue shrugged his shoulder.
"Still a bit too manly for me but I guess yer my date now." He splashed some of the liquor on Albion's shaved face for makeshift aftershave. "Bit more courage and we can go dance." He would offer Albion what was left in the glass before offering the wolf in sheep's clothing a bow.
The cheeky thief wanted a better view of everything and the Dancefloor was the best place to do that. Holding out his hand to Albion-hime he would wait until the goofy drunk took his gloved hand. It was a comical pair see in as Zidane was far shorter than the lanky man-princess. But the rogue was light on his feet, the actor taking the odd situation and improving. Whatever he had to do to get the gold, in this case find it. He would take this opportunity to search around the castle; he would examine people, doors and stairwells left a bit too unguarded. But, most importantly: he would dance with his date and eye the white-haired scrub. It still gnawed at the back of his mind... whatever it was.
►NOTES: Two in the hand, are worth two drunks in the bush.
►SKILLS USED: N/A
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO
As each and every stroke of the blade caressed his skin, Albion's drunken mind shifted from one subject to the other. He listened quietly, settling into the atmosphere and Zidane's voice. The shorter man's friendly words were reassuring to the Fafnir. This fancy party filled with smiles, music, and dancing, though looming over their heads a possible disaster; Albion couldn't quite understand why he felt so afraid of this. Why? Why did he feel so afraid before he got here?
Right down to the letter, these were the types of parties Albion was accustomed to at home. Though usually he was the disaster that put keen people on edge. Even before his blood was unsealed, Albion, then Alois, was a walking nightmare. Alois the Red. Absently, Albion wondered how Zidane would feel of him if he told him the kind of man he used to be. A true monster, not in blood and DNA, but in deed and action. Though thankfully his drunken state afforded him the ability to very quickly shift thoughts. As Zidane pulled his knife away to wipe more hair off of it, Albion grinned at the short little man who spoke in friendly everythings to him.
Swinging one arm in a wide horizontal arc, Albion caught the little man's shoulders, sweeping him up into his well-built, masculine arms, and like a proper princess would, gave the tailed blonde a wet, slobbering, and likely unnervingly playful kiss on the cheek. As the Fafnir released Zidane to the floor, his grin remained, even as a mischievous chuckle began echoing forth from between his lips. "I apprehshiet it, my llllittle noblemans." While his drunken nature might have ruined the moment for Zidane, the little Genome's words reached the Fafnir. They would likely even pierce through his later hangover to reverberate within his mind for a long time to come. Albion realized it was stupid to have feared this. He wasn't coming to a place for something he wasn't familiar with---Alois was a proper, regal man, well-respected and learned in the arts. Dancing was something he was skilled at. Music was something he enjoyed immensely. And playing a proper face for the public was something he was well accustomed to. Not only that, but he wasn't coming alone... Zidane was here. A friend.
Maybe... Maybe it was time to clean the hell up. Albion had been working it up for a while, but maybe now was the final straw. Those spirited girls had reached his heart, his caretaker constantly watched over him and offered him a shoulder for his Fafnir problems, Zidane offered himself as an ever-present friend and confidant, and he'd become accustomed to his Fafnir skin over time... He lacked any excuse to continue hiding who he was. The only issue left was really just determining who he was. Alois? Albion? Or was there any right answer? The Fafnir was taken free of his never-ending drunk musings when a hand covered in alcohol collided with his freshly shaven face. Albion shook his head and laughed, meagerly waving his hand at the little man.
"I godda better i-idea..." The Fafnir offered a grin at Zidane's comment of a dance. While he would certainly go for a dance with Zidane, he felt that the little blonde bard deserved a better dance partner than the drunken one currently standing---err, maybe constantly leaning was the right word---before him... First, he swiped the offered drink and gulped it down in one swift swallow, before he went on to reach for his waste, grasping firmly in each hand a large portion of his dress, hiking it up so as to walk off into the crowd. "I-I will...be back shoon, Gidaw..." Albion called back over his shoulder as he wandered off to do what only the fates would know, as far as Zidane would be concerned.
In truth, the Fafnir planned to do some much needed cleaning up of his own. Zidane had shaved his face down, but the rest of him was in need of more attention. So, plowing his way through the crowds of people, Albion wandered off to find the nearest bathroom. Here, he would make his stand of cleanliness. Once situated within, Albion was reminded of his very unique gift... Because he wasn't human, his body did some very unique things. When he warmed himself up enough, his body would literally burn through most everything within his body. Alcohol included. It was useful for burning through foreign toxins usually, but this time it would do more.
Albion approached the ornate sink, resting his now sweating hands upon it gently. He leaned over it, looking into the mirror. It was odd... Looking at his human face, freshly shaved, for the first time in a long time. His eyes drew up to his hair, which was in need of a cut as well. Though his skill was nothing compared to his caretaker's, Albion was able to shift his arm, turning it into the right arm of his werewolf form temporarily... It was quite a sight to see the immense giant's arm hanging from a normal man's shoulder, to speak nothing of the difficulty of balancing with it. But somehow Albion managed. Using the long claws at the ends of his fingers, he reached up to his head, gently cleaving off little bits of hair, tuft by tuft, shaping it more and more with each motion... As more hair was cleared away, Albion could see more light returning to his eyes in the mirror. There was much work to be done yet, but it was a start.
Once satisfied with his hair, Albion turned his eyes toward the elegant bathtub... His mind had cleared up enough through his bodily processing that he'd now realized just how awful he smelled. It was almost painful to his nostrils as he breathed in his own fumes. With a sigh, Albion decided to wash himself up. (Insert bathing scene here. Ladies... *winkwink*) It was over quite quickly, as Albion primarily only wished to wash away the stench, though the booze from his mouth did persist in his aroma. As Albion prepared to once again put on his dress, he stopped. His sharp eyes caught sight of something interesting hanging upon the wall on a hook. A...server's uniform? No... It's something else... Whatever it was, it would come in handy. Rather than putting his dress back on, Albion slipped into the white uniform, which was much more fitting of him for this affair. That would prove to be the final step.
Clean. Nose-friendly. Shaved. Trimmed. Well-dressed. And now particularly sober. Albion was finally ready to give Zidane the dance partner he deserved, though part of him believed the little man would be disappointed in his lack of a dress, Albion had begun to think of a different use for it... Packing it up, Albion hid it behind the sink before heading back out into the party. His legs moved forward with a proud stride. His back was straight and strong, his eyes focused, sharp, and especially studious. The air about him was entirely different. Echoed in every aspect of his physical posture was a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. There was plenty he was still unsure of, but at the end of the day, he knew now that he had to move onward. Albion shifted toward a nearby vase, grasping a few flowers from with in, grinning as he re-entered the crowds within the party.
Stepping forward proudly, catching eye from man and woman alike for his regal bearing and renewed looks, Albion parted crowds looking for his little friend. Thankfully, he managed to catch him once again. Offering the flowers he snatched earlier in his left hand, which from what he gathered, turned out to be white roses, Albion raised his right hand and held it over his heart. Offering a playfully charming grin, he spoke up, his tone formal, strong, noble, but familiar and friendly. His words rolled out of his mouth like silk, from a voice that sounded confident and strong, bearing no drunken slurs nor negative undertones. Tonight was to be special. His earlier display was an embarrassment to his friend, even if Zidane didn't feel that way. "May I have this dance?"
Belle had been watching the others in the enormous Ballroom, simply observing the comings and goings and passing-by of the people that surrounded her. Some faces seemed familiar, while others were complete strangers. As the chaos from the preceding 'incidents' dissipated, Belle watched those who began dancing to the waltz now played by the musicians. The scene reminded her of past dances in the Castle Ballroom back home...though it did not nearly have as many people or as much space as this ballroom. She held her book closer, swaying a bit in time to the melody of the waltz. She missed dancing...and it had been a while since she and Beast had had a chance to be together, to dance like they used to in the grand ballroom.
Belle had meant to keep her eyes on Jasmine, in case anything should happen. Her reservation toward joining in on the dance stemmed from the awareness of the darkness that had made its presence known...though for now it remained at bay, Belle could still feel it there, waiting. Who or what had brought it here..and what was their intent?
Her concern with the nearby Darkness was distracted by the older gentleman with the amber eyes. He unnerved her...she could feel something about him was definitely not right..but without confirmation of her suspicion or uncertainty Belle could not quite place why he was so unnerving. He walked closer to her..and asked for a dance. One dance..would it be a good idea?
It was just one dance; Belle had learned that sometimes things that seemed like simple requests hid ulterior motives. Turning her head to try and glimpse Jasmine once more, Belle hesitantly looked back to the outstretched, patiently waiting offered hand; It would be rude to decline the invitation, and probably give away her suspicions. She would accept the one dance..but what would the result be? She could play the part of being blissfully unaware of the danger...she would try, anyways.
Tucking the book safely away, Belle took the waiting hand with a graceful smile.
"I would be delighted to have one dance..thank you, Sir."
She hadn't minded being left alone with her book, but Belle felt that this was an invitation she could not (or should not) refuse. For now, she would play along until she could figure out what exactly was going on..and what to do about it.
CLICK ME! WE MOVED!
After years of fighting, a calm eventually washed over the worlds with the death of the previous threats. However, those walls of peace were all crashing down with the warning of a future threat. Though, the warning comes with much skepticism.
Could every keyblader be destroyed?
We'd like to announce our newest Staff member, Zidane! He has been accepted as out new graphic mod! Congratulations!
Member/Thread Of The Month
She knows all controls all. Beware of her witchcraft!