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Post by Giant Brother on Feb 7, 2008 8:56:33 GMT -5
(*chuckle* I can't remember what Karen was gonna wear, but I'm sure it'd curl Nayra's nose even more. Oh, speaking of which, you remember what we were going to do with Nayra and Cassandra, right?)
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Post by This One on Feb 7, 2008 12:16:57 GMT -5
(*laughs* Ooh, this'll be great ... Nayra's gonna really scowl at him. She may be nice, but she's still got more of a nobility mindset than she'd like to admit. And Tate's showing up to a high-class event in a shirt and jeans. =P) (Don't forget the lip ring. )
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Post by Ninmast on Feb 7, 2008 16:11:55 GMT -5
(Ooooh, the lip ring ... she's gonna spend all night thinking about how she'd like to pluck it out and toss it through a window ...)
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Post by Thy Masked Tragedy on Feb 7, 2008 16:22:04 GMT -5
(-.- Some RP this is turning out to be.)
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Post by CHANGEME on Feb 8, 2008 2:44:51 GMT -5
(Despair not, you're hardly two pages in! True flies on the wings of heavenly clouds so the rescue!)
As had happened so many times before, Veritas was plucked from her fiery homeworld, that haven of ash and smoke and sulfur.
This time, however, she'd been taken right from the middle of a grand affair. And now she was here, on that alien world she'd come to know and loathe, and she wasn't even in uniform.
No, she was here, delicate green slippers going to get dirty here in the middle of the road, her silky white gown fluttering in the smelly breeze, emerald and iron bracelets and necklaces weighing her down, though the only accessory of importance weighed nothing on her neck, the iron locket so hidden among the jewels.
The second she'd arrived, some discarded flier had blown into her face. She looked at it cluelessly for a second before removing it from her face to give it a proper once-over. She couldn't read it, but... it looked interesting.
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Post by This One on Feb 8, 2008 12:38:41 GMT -5
Tate found that the walk from his family's house to the mansion listed on the flyer was not that far, arriving in only about ten minutes. Walking up to the door, he found that it was not padlocked; odd for a condemned building. Even odder was the fact that the building appeared to be well lit inside.
He contemplated whether he should actually open the door or not before knocking and waiting for a reply.
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Post by Ninmast on Feb 8, 2008 12:45:26 GMT -5
The blue-haired girl, her simple silken gown hidden under her long coat for the walk to the mansion, paused as she came up to a short woman in a green gown and blue skin with white hair. It only took a glance at the flyer in the woman's hand to see that their destination was the same.
"Excuse me," she said politely as she came up next to her. "I don't mean to be rude. I know it's a masquerade ball, but most simply wear a face mask. Isn't full body paint a little much?"
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Post by Thy Masked Tragedy on Feb 8, 2008 12:54:35 GMT -5
Charlie slowly made his way down the staircase, his eyes flickering toward the window. If he was correct, (which, he always was) a guest was already arriving. “Butler, open the door. It seems someone has arrived.” Giving a nod to his instructions, he turned toward the door, and with a bit of effort, worked the door open. Once the light of the room spilled out onto the figure of a teenage boy, dressed in nothing but street clothing, the butler gave a good hard chuckle and turned to Charlie. “I believe this boy has the wrong house, sir.” Charlie moved closer to the door, eyeing the teenager like a wild cat might have eyed it’s prey. “Pitty.” Charlie leaned forward taking the boys jaw into his hand, and forced it from side to side, still inspecting him. “Tell me boy. How could you have possibly mistaken this house for the place you were meant to go. Surely you aren’t here for my ball.”
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Post by This One on Feb 8, 2008 13:02:38 GMT -5
Tate was hit with a wave of mixed emotions. One, he was a bit shocked that there was actually a ball at this house. Two, he felt a sense of pride, for he now had bragging rights over the fact that he was the one to solve the mystery of whether or not the masquerade ball was real. Three, there was a man...touching his face...He wasn't sure what to make of that.
He finally managed to stutter out, "Um...I, uh...Here." He reached into his hoodie pocket and held out the invitation.
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Post by Thy Masked Tragedy on Feb 8, 2008 13:16:06 GMT -5
Charlie slowly loosened his grip on the boys face, and turned him loose with a small pat on the head. “Obviously, your parents never taught you the proper way to dress when attending a real party. Butler.” His cobalt eyes jerked toward him. “Your pants please, and your coat while you're at it.” There was a long pause, then wide eyed and frustrated, the butler removed his jacket and held it out to Charlie. “Sir, must I really remove my...” “Give them to the boy.” Charlie turned to look at the boy with a charming smile. “Don’t worry about the clothes not fitting. The minute you put them on, they will adjust to your size. Ah, and your shoes butler--he can’t wear those ratty sneakers. Krystal will escort you to a room. KRYSTAL!” In barely even a second, a young girl flittered out of the feast room, and centered herself before the doorway. Beneath her gown, had the kid even noticed it, her feet were bare. Charlie didn’t want his guest to assume she was one of them, so she could be called upon for service. “Take the boy to a room and have him change.” “Yes sir.” With that she turned her attention to the boy, and waited for him to follow.
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Post by This One on Feb 8, 2008 13:27:13 GMT -5
Tate's head was spinning by this point. There was some man undressing in front of him, and he was supposed to wear the clothes. And apparantly, the clothes would adjust to his size? He found this hard to believe, as Tate could fit himself three times into the butler's clothes.
Not wanting to be rude, especially since he didn't know what these people were capable of, he took the clothes and turned towards the girl. Then it struck him: was this girl going to watch him undress?! He prayed to the heavens for the answer to be no, though in the back of his mind, he did find her attractive.
Just before following her, he turned back to the man that had gripped his jaw just a moment ago. "Um...I'm Tate, by the way, uh...sir."
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Post by Thy Masked Tragedy on Feb 8, 2008 13:41:17 GMT -5
Charlie smiled. “Ah good. Seems you have some manners. I am Charles and do not worry young Tate, once you‘ve cleaned up and changed into that, we will get along just fine.” He gestured Krystal to continue with her task, then turned to tend to the butler. Once Charlie was sure Krystal had lead the kid out of sight, he glared at the door, and forced it shut with only a nod of his head. “Go replace your clothing. And hurry before more people arrive.” Lowering his head to hide the crimson tint that had risen to the surface of his face, the butler nodded and set off for his room.
*hallway* Krystal looked at the boy over her shoulder, giggling. “You look pale as a ghost, mister. Surely master did not frighten you that bad, right?” Her voice was amusingly high. Not at all annoying like a cartoon characters voice, but higher then it should have been for her age. After taking him down several hallways she paused at a tall door, covered only by the velvet red material that all the doors seemed to have. “I will stand out here to the side. When your done, I’ll lead you back to the ballroom, and I’ll keep your clothes someplace safe for later, if you wish to have them back.” She pulled the curtain back for him with a smile.
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Post by This One on Feb 8, 2008 14:04:19 GMT -5
Tate ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his long bangs away from his eyes. "You can call me Tate, you know... I'm only seventeen. My dad's a 'mister', not me." He stepped into the room, nodding graciously to Krystal.
Once inside the room, he removed his backpack from his shoulders and sat it on the floor behind him. He pulled his black hoodie over his head and threw it on the floor. He proceeded to remove the rest of his clothes until he stood in his boxers and undershirt, then looked at the clothes loaned to him. They were way too big for him, there was no way they would fit.
"Oh, well," he sighed as he took the pants and pulled them up. It startled him when he felt the snugness on his waist. The man at the door had been right; they did fit him perfectly. Now curious, Tate also put on the jacket. It was also a perfect fit. This night was getting weirder by the second.
Once dressed, he stepped out of the room, belongings in hand, and looked to Krystal.
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Post by Thy Masked Tragedy on Feb 8, 2008 14:14:19 GMT -5
Krystal bowed to the boy with a faint grin, and took his clothing. “Oh, your shoes!” she nodded to the plain polished flats the butler had been forced to give him. The shoes had a fifties feel to them, the way the were made meant the bottom's were smooth for dancing. “Well Tate,” she was attempting to retouch the topic he had began on before he had stepped into the room to change “In front of my master, regardless of your age I must call you either sir, or master Tate.” She reached out to take his sneakers once he had removed them.
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Post by This One on Feb 8, 2008 14:28:58 GMT -5
Tate let Krystal take his shoes, then slipped the other ones on. They, too, fit him like the clothes.
"Well, when your master's not listening, could you not treat me so respectfully? It's...kinda awkward. Not that I don't appreciate it, of course. It's just that I'm used to being called either 'kid' or 'boy', or something." He chewed on his lip ring. It's what he always did when he was nervous. It never occurred to him to take the thing out of his lip.
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