painting the roses red (alex/ash/aur/basil/char/open)
Mar 25, 2020 5:57:32 GMT
Afton Branwen likes this
Post by Seren Culvért on Mar 25, 2020 5:57:32 GMT
i n t r o d u c t i o n
The elegant spectacle takes place precisely at six o'clock at the eloquent Blackwell Manor and hosted by Blackwell family. The celebration marks the occasion of the arrival of a foreign sovereign into the kingdom of Atelus. To commence his welcome into the wonderland that is Atelus, the theme is based off the work of the literary mastermind, Lewis Carroll, and his best selling series Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
All of Atelus' best and brightest were was invited into the upscale and decadent soiree but asked to come dressed in appropriate attire of fashionable ball gowns and suits that inspires both the spirit of Wonderland or its cast characters -- which must be approved in advance to accommodate a proper dress code and conduct. There is no use going back to yesterday, because surely everyone was a different person then, and besides today the person the guests dress as will all be judged and a sizable reward offered to the best dressed of the evening. It should be taken into consideration while there will be no decapitations, guests are expected to remain cordial or the adeptly dressed playing card guards will escort them off the premises.
Everyone is invited to step in through the doors and get lost in the whimsy for a little while. Accommodations have been made, both for living and undead, in order to ward the grounds and protect against the sun's harmful ways, as well as refreshments offered to suite particular dietary needs.
Don't be late for this very important date!
The elegant spectacle takes place precisely at six o'clock at the eloquent Blackwell Manor and hosted by Blackwell family. The celebration marks the occasion of the arrival of a foreign sovereign into the kingdom of Atelus. To commence his welcome into the wonderland that is Atelus, the theme is based off the work of the literary mastermind, Lewis Carroll, and his best selling series Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
All of Atelus' best and brightest were was invited into the upscale and decadent soiree but asked to come dressed in appropriate attire of fashionable ball gowns and suits that inspires both the spirit of Wonderland or its cast characters -- which must be approved in advance to accommodate a proper dress code and conduct. There is no use going back to yesterday, because surely everyone was a different person then, and besides today the person the guests dress as will all be judged and a sizable reward offered to the best dressed of the evening. It should be taken into consideration while there will be no decapitations, guests are expected to remain cordial or the adeptly dressed playing card guards will escort them off the premises.
Everyone is invited to step in through the doors and get lost in the whimsy for a little while. Accommodations have been made, both for living and undead, in order to ward the grounds and protect against the sun's harmful ways, as well as refreshments offered to suite particular dietary needs.
Don't be late for this very important date!
There was much to be said for what a little love and a little patience could do.
Seren was a simple creature by nature; there was no need in his being for grand or expensive things. Money was a solid concept, one he understood but did not find any true pleasure in. Those polished bits of gold, silver and copper coins were just that - paper and hunks of metal (the bane of his fey existence) that somehow managed to wrest away the things that truly mattered. He had few goals in life, but one of the big ones was to never chase the hollow, grasping nature of greed.
The irony of that sentiment, however, was lost on him as he crept about the whimsical decor garbed in finery. Though the hours until the guests would arrive eked by, Seren sang a fey lullaby his mother had gifted him when he was five, his voice rolling over the bustling kitchens in sorrowful waves. The lullaby helped him to find a calming center and prepare to fake all graciousness for the ball. He had arranged with Darius to be permit to walk amongst as both guest and singer. It came at a cost, of course, as all things do in fey deals -- he'd made a promise to keep to his manners with Minerva for an evening and evade from the guests with... well, sharper teeth.
The nobleman had been pleased by the promise, to the extent that it almost brought a shred of guilt to the faerie's heart. Almost. For it had been spoken with a such blatant play on words, that if the lord hadn't been stressed and overworked he would of caught on. Because Seren's manners, or rather lack thereof, would certainly be kept towards and Darius just wouldn't like the end result. As for the presence of vampires... well, now the faerie's flirtations were often evasion in nature; especially with the case of nobility, and their archaic ideas of courtship.
The planner had all but given him express permission to improve and help decorate the vast, spacious interior of the grounds as he saw fit. It hadn't crossed Seren's thoughts that Darius had wanted to occupy him somehow, while he recovered from his injuries. Surely, if there was an occasion that called for the fantastical mind it was within the realm of Wonderland? The event had been carefully planned, down to the last microscopic detail -- from the fountain than ran blood red, to the vegetarian options splayed out amongst the smoked lamb finger sandwiches and poached pheasant eggs, sage bake capon and other foreign delicacies.
This entire ordeal had become his pet protect: with the help of Darius' generous backing, a little sweat, blood and tears... and an entire coven of Blackwell witches' magic at his disposal, he had been able to make turn this excessive, lavish manor into a spectacle. A madhouse. Everything was unique and bright. Feminine accents and clutter; books, gemstones, and pretty but cheap little trinkets littered every corner and cranny. The tables were spread with a flurry of organized chaos that was pleasing to the eye; the longer one looked, the more sense it seemed to make, the more patterns that emerged.
Rose scented across the grounds, flowers strewn on every cluttered table, as if love had been transformed into their fine aromatic perfume. The faint scent of tobacco spiced the air mimicked the caterpillar's pipe, hookahs set up in a warded room for those tempted to indulge. Nearly all the accents were handmade of donated antiques that had been abandoned in mismatched sets. Seren had seen it fit to devote himself wholly to the protect; the life of a struggling bard slash former private entertainer was not a glamorous one, more so now that he had been kept out of work, battered and bruised from a recent alleyway grapple. His own disposable income had dwindled with the lack of work, but he made do with what he had.
If ever he ever confessed to any true need, Seren knew Darius would step in and offer anything he desired. It was a mix of pride and a sense of adventure, however, that kept him from falling back on that knowledge. Independence, perhaps. Seren believed life were a grand adventure, and he would rather test himself and experiment with all the unusual, serendipitous ways he could solve a problem on his own. The universe had a grand way of leading him to strange, wonderful places. On his quest to be able to strategize whether the table cloths should be almond or cream colored, he could meet his Dark knight, the one he was meant to be with... and promptly, as those fairytale endings go, be swept off his feet and ravished with the utmost devotion.
Just like, perhaps, on his journey to banish and one up Minerva at long last, he had crossed paths with a young fey halfling girl who had an especially strong strain of cannabis. The redhead was an odd, beautiful creature who had enraptured Seren's curiosity immediately. Her ability to strength and encourage growth in plants was nothing short of wondrous, and it that in proved life after death she would receive the highest of rebirths. That fact that Seren didn't hesitate to believe the illicit dealer revealed much about his character. Lies were a strange, distant thing to the fey. The ivory haired faerie did not grasp the concept of dishonesty, and found no peace in it. Lying only prolonged the inevitable and made the truth sting all that much more. It increased the suffering, of both the liar and the one being mislead.
Why did people lie to one another?
The redheaded deaker, however, had been quite frank with Seren, and that was something that the bard appreciated more than he could ever convey. Quiet conversation had turned into a fragile bond. The purchase had been extended on a whim, as was the case with most of his more lucrative dealings. Perhaps he ought to be more cautious with strangers... it hadn't turned out all that well the last time he'd been cornered. Humans could be more cruel than the fey and he'd come to understand there was no place for his kind there, on the streets. This life style... this exchange of pleasures of the flesh was a sacrifice he had to make at this time. He would endure this. If not, there was always something else. Alternatives were out there, somewhere.
The perfect moment time, just an hour before six, rolled around.
A dreamy smile ignited across the man's features. He beamed at the tarts as he slid them onto floral china, lithe body turning on point in the crowded kitchen and antique serving tray full of cooled chocolate tarts in hand. "M'lady, you simply must try one!" Dainty feet pad over, with a look close to dark intent that appeared right at home on his graceful features. This tray was his specially for Lady Minerva, the faerie had been exceptionally liberal in the secret ingredient.The china were secondhand to compliment the theme but they were lovely despite the gold filled chips and artfully faded patterns. A somewhat sly smile crossed his face as the lesser staff, those unused to his face, stumble over their words in his presence, stumble as they take leave of their minds and dedicate all thought and energy towards taking in the sight of him, feasting on what beauty is in front of them.
Their responses proved the widely held belief that he was the most beautiful man in the room.
For the moment, at least.
He suspected that unless the secret invitation had been intercepted, the youngest Branwen would be in attendance, drawn in towards Seren the same way he drew the faerie in.
Might he might indulge the spirit of the day and come ready? Seren supposed not, alas, it was hardly within Asher's character to fall in with the masses.
T'was a pity, the man had the disposition of Cheshire Cat.
Carrying the tray in hand, Seren stood staring down at the stood staring down at the gathering from the top of the mezzanine that overlooked a seating area, the curtains having just been drawn back to reveal his stunning figure, he knew his plan had worked to best heighten not only his beauty, but the lore and experience that went with it. He's soft and seductive all in once, from his the bright glittering glow painted lovingly across his cheeks to the kohl that rimmed his twinkling green gaze. His lean strength is hidden beneath the skin tight lacy leggings that he's all but poured into it.
Even his hair is styled to perfection; hair that remained naturally the kind of brilliant white that would even make new snow look grey, the kind of white that sears into your retinas and makes you temporarily blind, and now it were a crowning jewel, draped over down his back in a long feminine wave. Forest green eyes glow from beneath a fringe of dark lashes, studying the with a quiet mischief. From the soft collective gasp of awe, he knew none who stood below him had ever seen a more breathtaking sight.
The clicking of his boots down the stairway added to the rhythm of quiet conversation. A rare delight crossed his face, eyes heady with mischief as he settled back atop the rail and slid all the way down the grand staircase, skirts fluttering softly in his way, poised as he managed to keep the tarts undisturbed on the tray. "Tada~" he preened as he landed softly on his bare feet, making a point to bow and curtsy at anyone who caught his eye. "Has anyone got the time?" he wondered with an impish grin. Immediately the men went for their watches and Seren only laughed, a shake as he twirled around to display the large clock he'd secured to his thigh.
As soon as he moves, he knows their eyes slip to the skin of his back, and the soft tufy of pale fur balanced on the peak of his rear, briefly visible beneath his skirt. Certainly he was endowed with a lovely posterior, if small, with narrow hips that sway lightly in tease. He's disappointed by the absence of Minerva; however remained resolved to locate her with haste, once he's able to sweet past the fray and stumble across delicious opportunity.
Ah, he could already tell this would be fun.
seren's outfit
Alexandra Gianna Blackwell
Asher Branwen
Aurelius Adalbern
Basil Sabal
Charlotte Durham
@open to all
