|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Dec 19, 2010 19:15:52 GMT -8
It nearly traverses the entire length of the ball room and is half as wide - this balcony was meant to be an extended dance floor if the many stain-glass doors were left wide. The shape of it is a giant set of butterfly wings and the marble flooring is set in just a way to mimic the coloring and pattern of a Cairns Birdwing.
|
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Feb 25, 2011 17:07:32 GMT -8
Many a person loitered along the decorative fence along the edge of the balcony, murmuring conversations filled the air as the sun set in spectacular glory. The faint sounds of music coming from inside came through the open balcony doors as more people filtered inside and out as the evening progressed.
|
|
|
|
Post by netherland on Mar 1, 2011 10:14:06 GMT -8
Mingling was easy. All you did was drink and talk to the other guests there, keeping an eye on your fellow crew-mates in the process.
Saying that, Nikolaas found himself having lost sight of his fellow crew members and had resorted to wandering out on the balcony - at least he could smoke out here.
Reclining against the railing he calmly observed the ballroom dancers through the stained glass windows. Sure they had an ulterior motive to come here, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves every now and again, right?
Nikolaas didn't think they where the only ones not really invited. He didn't want to risk getting spotted, so he'd gone for the slightly more unconventional way and made a quick entrance through the kitchens - the staff had been none the wiser - in their hurry they probably mistook him for a waiter
From his position on the balcony he had a nice view of the dance floor, and all the people enjoying themselves. He tapped his foot gently to the small beat, taking a long drag from his pipe before trying to locate any crew members - or anyone else that might be of importance to notice.((super busy month is super busy, so forgive me for slowness,please?)) --- NL is wearing Sherlock Holmes' suit pinartarhan.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/sherlock-holmes-robert-downey-jr-poster.jpg
|
|
|
|
Post by saldussapnai on Mar 1, 2011 19:29:18 GMT -8
The stars were burning brighter tonight—pinpoints of brilliant flaming light in a velvet sky. Toris shuddered in the evening breeze, wrapping gloved arms tightly around himself, drawing the sheer-mesh shawl over his shoulders and wishing the stars gave out heat, as well. Or that he at least had a thicker jacket. Nonetheless, between the cold and sheer embarrassment, the Lithuanian couldn’t help but be grateful for the dark. Otherwise, his face would be a blushing beacon, even without the rouge.
The plan was simple—the crew would infiltrate the ball by pretending to be guests. Ivan and Berwald would pose as a pair of rich noblemen out for a night of fun, with Maria, Dahlia, and Chaati on their arms so none would be the wiser. Then they would separate into three groups, spreading out to test the town hall’s defenses, opening them up for a later strike from outside, while at the same time hunting through the gala for any treasure that could be gleaned from the elegance of the night’s revels.
Toris still wasn’t exactly certain why Ivan was so keen on crashing this ball, since the entire thing was crawling with Navy (he tried to banish the passing thought of entreating an officer to aid in his escape), but the Russian had remained insistent, relentlessly pressing Toris with the need to help come up with a clever scheme that would get the crew in.
Well, it was his own fault—but how was he supposed to know that Ivan would take him seriously when he had jokingly offered to be his date at the ball? Or that the Russian would actually have a dress for him?;;
‘Me and my clever ideas,’ Toris thought to himself, resisting the temptation to bite his lip. Minding the waxy red coating on them with chagrin, he settled for sighing in resignation instead.
The Baltic stubbornly ignored the wind’s cold hand travelling down his bare skin, lingering over the sensitive skin on the back of his neck that had been exposed by Maria’s elegant updo before winding down his spine. A pair of long gold-chained earrings tinkled gently against the skin of his jaw, producing more shivers Toris tried to contain. He glanced out towards his companions, rubbing his arms.
“Ahm…s-so, we should perhaps start mingling with the party, ne?” he suggested, feeling ridiculous giving orders while he was dressed as a woman. At least the mask covered most of the blush.
--
For the curious, Toris' outfit:
Dress (only with a gold and amber diamante as opposed to the white and silver one depicted)
Mask (ignore dino logo)
Shawl
Hair style
Earrings
Gloves
|
|
|
|
Post by ivan on Mar 1, 2011 19:48:00 GMT -8
Ivan regarded the swirling dance floor and nodded, turning to smile at the rest of the crew," Da, we should..." He leaned down to murmur into Liet's ear, finger flicking over the silver chain, playing his part of the flirty nobleman," We should split up da? To cover more ground. There are many valuables here at this moment, it would be a shame to miss one..."
He stood straight again, adjusting the stylish deep blue peacoat and than his trailing white silk scarf, before he glanced at his date with a smile," Are you ready dorogoy? The evening is young~ and its such a nice night to dance da?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Mar 10, 2011 9:17:02 GMT -8
Moving inside, the many people in the crowds wouldn't pay particular attention to either of you - except for the occasional glance at Toris, appreciative from the men and jealousy from the women. All the people had one thing in common however - lots of jewelry and expensive clothing. The ballroom itself has it's enormous chandelier, marble banisters dusted with gold leaf, as well as the velvet drapery and the dishware coming out of the kitchen (which was, in itself, crystal and sitting on silver trays).
|
|
|
|
Post by keyatehspazz on Mar 21, 2011 9:43:01 GMT -8
Maria’s heels clicked soundly against the stone of the balcony and her eyes shining bright where they peeked out from her mask. The only thing she owned in this entire outfit was the antique white lace fan that covered the lower part of her face. He was her madres. Her dress was bronze with black horizontal stripes, steeped in layers near the bottom that were rimmed with black lace. One crossed up and connected at the back, adding to the already tilted look. A white shawl fell around her shoulders that paired with black opera gloves that reached past her elbows. Her hair was pulled up into a high, yet loose, bun on the top of her head that was held together by bobby pins and a bronze decorative flower. The heels hidden under the dress were very short, perfect for running if the occasion called for it. And Maria had a feeling the occasion was going to.
She was watching Toris and Ivan from a distance, slowly fanning herself the way her mother used to do when bored. Maria was trying to play it cool, but it really was exciting being here. She just had a sinking feeling that they were going to get caught. Or at least, she was. High class wasn’t exactly her game, and she was afraid to talk to anyone for fear of saying the wrong thing. This was going to be a long night.Her outfit:
Shawl
Dress
Mask (the one in front)
Hair ornament.
|
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Apr 4, 2011 18:53:38 GMT -8
After watching Inuk and Tal wander off their own ways, Emrys sighed and took off his hat for a moment to awkwardly make sure his hair was at least attempting to behave. It wasn't comfortable since his commander had wanted to make sure that he was as presentable as possible - which was annoying, considering Emrys knew how to clean himself up on his own - the man had forced so much gel into his brown hair that it felt like it was stuck and unable to move.
... at least it was out of his eyes for once. Which wasn't necessarily a good thing, considering how nervous he was. This was his first formal 'event' since... well, since all of his siblings had vanished one by one. It made him doubly wish he wasn't here as the memories of the four of them together - even if they were arguing together, not laughing - were always something painful to him.
Deciding that it was for the best that he got out of the crowd before nostalgia drove him to do something stupid like drink until he made a fool of himself - not that he could considering how little alcohol was in the champagne the servers were toting about - Emrys turned about face and headed for the fresh air of the balcony. There were fewer people here and the fresh breeze was much better than the cloying ball room stuffed full of the many warring scents of women's perfumes and men's colognes.
As he was passing through, he spotted a blond masked man and felt a rush of self-depreciation. If Arthur were around - were alive, for who knew if their youngest brother was still alive? - he'd be about that man's age. Emrys could imagine him being that relative height, but for the life of him he couldn't consider the youngest Kirkland as anything other than a scrawny stick.
..... maybe he should stop thinking about the past entirely. That was what he thought to himself as he ran into a pretty lady in a green dress while he was lost in his morose thoughts.
"Ah - bed your pardon, my lady. I wasn't watching where I was going." he smiled self-consciously as his eyes traveled to the very large man who, he guessed, was her chaperone.
|
|
|
|
Post by saldussapnai on Apr 6, 2011 17:52:46 GMT -8
Toris flinched from Ivan’s touch, glancing at the Russian with quiet chagrin, flushing in humiliation. The blond was enjoying this event far too much, the Lithuanian reflected, adjusting his shawl and averting his eyes. He nodded along with Ivan’s suggestion, in spite of the turn his stomach gave at the thought of being alone with the other. At least Maria would linger, most likely.
Biting the inside of his cheek at the Russian’s endearment, he nodded, taking the other’s arm, pride and self-preservation keeping him quiet as they stepped toward the dance floor. Toris tried to distract himself from the pinch of his heels by observing the other costumed guests. Over and over again, the Lithuanian was struck by the opulence of the crowd—their effortless wealth made sure that Toris felt every inch the dress-wearing humble inn-keep’s son in comparison, rather than a scheming pirate captain.
The brunet had no idea what to make of the interested and envious glances they made back at him. The attention was more intimidating than flattering, and more embarrassing than intimidating. Unwillingly he found himself moving closer to Ivan for cover, and it was only too easy for Toris to affect the shy and demure young lady, eyes cast to the floor.
He was only a prop in this plot. The knowledge sat heavy in his stomach, a black mass of self-disgust laced with strikes of infuriation. In a sudden flare, he hated everything. He hated embarrassment. He hated wealth. He hated secrets. He hated high heels, and helplessness, and people, and class, and pirates, and scheming Russians that played you like a puppet. He hated life. He hated pride. He hated himself.
He longed for escape.
The sudden negativity momentarily filled the Lithuanian’s forest eyes with fire, his bones with iron, and he might have done something stupid if a Welshman hadn’t managed to run into him at that exact moment.
Toris stumbled in his heels, knocking gently against Ivan in the process and grappling to hold himself steady. The other’s apology made the Lithuanian blink, and he looked over.
It was a Naval officer.
Toris’ nerves jangled, but the Baltic managed to keep a calm exterior, lifting himself from the Russian as he reached up to brush back his hair. “I-It’s alright,” he commented, swallowing and trying to remember to speak in a higher and softer voice. “No harm done.”
He glanced up at the military man, and momentarily entertained the idea of giving everything away. Instead, he smiled, and adjusted his mask. “And how are you this evening, officer . . . ?”
|
|
