RPG Ivory Tower [Mature VLS]

[O-Ushi]

[CENTER]A clockwork bird flutered down form the rafters on metallic wings. It spiralled above the dancing figures, glorious in their finery, like besplendant angels in bright colours. A castrate sang out in its eerie, ethereal tones, accompanied by the gentle wailing of a violin.[I]

'The beauty spot was borrowed
Now my sweet love rusts tomorrow
On my confession that is waiting to be heard

Run your empty rain down on me
Whisper your death beats so softly
Bend your knees, the altar of my ego'[/i]

The clockwork bird skitted in between the dancing people, sharp, unnatural movements preformed with perfect reflexes. It looped and rolled amongst the figures, its bronze and gold feathers flashing in the light of a thousand thousand candles. It darted towards a figure in the corner, watching the dancing guests. It landed on his shoulder, and pressed its beak against the man's cheek.

"Good evening, Ozymandius" the man murmured, pressing his glass of dry Asamaec to his lips.

The bird sang in metallic tones.

"I find these affairs most tiresome, old friend."

Eyes made of pure emerald blinked as it cocked its head.

"They hold nothing of the subtle charm of the Songbird, Ozymandius."

The one-sided conversation intrigued the bird, who clacked its beak.

The song changed. A fast, intricate piece known as the [I]Cardinal's Arms[/I]

Belial 'ap Temozareila sighed and stroked Ozymandius' head, before walking towards the door. more guests were arriving for the social at the Temozareila household. His feet swept against the floor gently, and the clockwork bird launched from his shoulders, winging its way back towards the rafters...[/CENTER]

[Angelus_Necare]

[Center].:An Evening at Home:.[/center]

[color=dimgrey][size=1]Lysander swirled what litte Oleander wine he had left in the bottom of his glass boredly.

He now had somehow wished that he had not politely declined his presence to the gathering at the Temozareila household this evening. Yet, as depraved as he was for the social interaction he craved at the moment, there was nothing moreso rude than appearing for an event that one had already turned away. Yes, he was known to do it in the past, but he was really trying to behave as of late. Especially after the incident with the house of Ezander's heiress and her escort meeting he and his harem guest. Apparently the girl's father was not so amused upon hearing what off-color things Sir Lysander Emric Sechwan had spoken that evening, and threatened to cut family ties with the snowy haired lech. Family ties that were important to his social standings unfortunately.

So there he sat in his lounge, punishing himself from being social and becomming drunk off of oleander wine. A swift yet charming melody of violins floated through the room from a mechanized contraption that played various recordings of music. Lysander had purchased it recently, being the kind that enjoyed a good selection of music from time to time. He felt that he could loose himself within the sounds that so delicately played upon his ears, from the haunting melodies to the joyfull tunes that could be played. His passion for music it seemed, paralleled his passion for sex at times.

As if reminded by something Lysander lifted his gaze from his glass to the ivory davenport accross from him. There sat a young, but well grown man. He was a lithe and gracefull fellow, blessed by pale skin that was utterly flawless through and through. It took the aristocrat a moment to sort through the drunken haze had created to remember that this man was a rather new pet of his by the name of Alrem. A creature he deemed his as soon as he laid emerald eyes on him. The man had been working below in the lower class when Lysander spotted him on a visit that was of a buisness matter.

Ivy eyes slowly traced Alrem's distinct curves, angles and finesse. Eyes as blue as the eastern sky on a summer afternoon glared daggers at Lysander before softening into a gaze of loyalty and submissiveness. This made the snowy haired man smile. He knew full well that Alrem loathed the fact that he had to come under Lysander's service to survive. He had not yet been fully broken by his master, but would soon come to find that stolen glares would cost him dearly.

"More wine Master Sechwan?" Alrem asked softly, his gaze now lowered to the wine bottle he had been holding in his hands. Lysander eyed his servant carefully, his gaze resting on the now tamed red mop that was Alrem's hair. A vibrant and shinning red, nearly wild and free as a few rouge strands lay limp upon his creamy complection. This was what drew him to the man in the first place. It somewhat resembled Belial 'ap Temozareila's hair, a man that Lysander wouldn't have minded putting his claws into.

"Master?" Alrem asked timidly again, raising his gaze. Before he could sittuate his stare on his master, a white glove shot out at him, firmly grasping his hair. The servant gave out a painfull cry while the master softly chuckled. Lysander yanked his flame haired slave upwards sharply, strangling another yelp from the helpless man. He grinned wickedly, why the thought of Belial drew such a reaction from him he didn't know, but he enjoyed the sensation he was receiving. With a few more painfull cries, master and servant dissapeared into the bedroom chamber for the evening. The last melodic chords of the violin trilled through the empty room before comming to a modest end.

Really. Who needs to go out when such entertainment can be found with a relaxing evening at home?[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]The music above for this post is Bach's Allegro, from Sonata No. 1. I think I'll be adding classical/orchestral music to each of my posts, because it sets the mood, and helps me write for this kind of RP.

And sorry if I'm picking on Belial a bit O-Ushi, but it's all in good fun.[/color][/size]

[Onix]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Xairiel stepped into the massive, opulant ballroom of the Temozareila home. The pale blonde Miranda was squashed against him, clinging to his arm like a lost child...or a dog in heat.

"See, Xai, everyone is here," cooed Miranda. "Aren't you glad we came?"

"Ecstatic," growled the silver-haired man. "Go entertain yourself. I have business to attend to."

"You [I]always[/I] have business to attend to," whined Miranda. "There's never any time for fun with you."

Xairiel ignored her petulant ranting as he scanned the crowd for Goran Kier. The man had borrowed a substantial sum from the Malebranche family, and had never payed back the debt. While the family itself did not intend to actively seek out Kier, Xairiel had taken it upon himself to slay the thieving bastard. The fact that Goran had slept with Xairiel's last woman only compounded the issue.

At last, he spotted the man. Goran was a large, muscular man with short, thick black hair. He was known for wearing rich, bright colors. This made him easy to pick out in a crowd. Currently, he was surrounded by women similar to Miranda; money-gurbbing, vaguely attractive, and very horny. He also happened to be getting very, very drunk.

Xairiel quietly slipped through the crowd while Miranda continued raving on, hopefully escaping her for the rest of the night. In the eyes of the Malebranche heir, her only practical use was, well, a good screw now and then.

Xairiel smoothly slid up to Goran's crowd. The large man was bellowing drunkly about past acomplishments, most of which Xairiel knew to be false. Some he even recognized as his own.

"Excuse me," Xairiel called. "Mr. Kier! I need to talk to you!"

"Can't yeh see I'm busy!" was the drunken reply.

[I]If the cultured approach won't work, then...[/I]

With a quick draw, Ier was at the ready. Xairiel's blue eyes flashed as he stepped through the crowd, now parting before him and his steel. Goran stared blearily at the smaller man.

"Put away yer blade, me boy!" said Goran. "Tis a party, eh?"

"Goran Kier, you have shamed the house of Malebranche," Xairiel said. His voice was loud and clear. "You have borrowed a substantial sum and have yet to pay the debt back. You have slept with our women. You have proved to be nothing but a worthless, drunken lech."

The room was silent. Some looked amused, others aghast, still others enraged.

"For your crimes, I challange you to a duel. If you have but a shred of honor left in you, draw your steel."

A look of fear flashed across Goran's face, quickly replaced by drunken arrogance. He fumbled with the hilt of his large blade, but drew it just the same, the tip wavering as he pointed it at Xairiel.

"En garde, ye wee pansy," slurred Goran.

The massive man charged, swinging the sword with almost inhuman force. Xairiel easily ducked the high cut, tracing the tip of Ier across Goran's side as the man stumbled past. With a flourish of his cloak, Xairiel spun and returned to his full height.

Goran let out a loud bellow as he charged again, sword held high over his head. He brought it down on Xairiel, who danced to the side. He cut a gash on Goran's other side. Blood began to stain the bright fabric. The sword crashed into the gorgeous marble floor, breaking the tiles and jamming amidst the broken shards.

"Thus ends the life of Goran Kier," snarled Xairiel.

With a quick slice, thick crimson splashed across the glimmering blade of Ier. Goran collapsed to his knees, holding his slashed neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Gore poured out over his thick fingers, and in a moment, he collapsed, dead.

With a grim smile, Xairiel wiped his sword on Goran's back, returning Ier to its sheeth. As he walked away from the large corpse, the chatter and music began once again.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[Swordsaint]

ooc: sorry I'm late! Lets get this party started!

Keagan had arrived at the elegant party some time ago and, to say the least, he was enjoying himself. This Belial had spared no expense on this party, and he had all the delights in line just the right way. It almost reminded him of himself. He stepped lightly acrossed the marble floor's, his attention caught by a sudden, unexpected bellow, his cape lightly brushed acrossed themarble as he turnedr, his retainer shuffled hurridly, his bald head bowed behind.

"Tarquil?" the servants head snapped to attention, focusing on his lords capped back.
"Yes my lord?" Keagan peered intently on the dueling figures, the silver haired man danced around the big man gracefully.
"Who is that dueling?" Tarquil fumbled through his gold inlaid coat pockets for his spectacles. He slid over his failing eyes in triumph. "the large man is Goran.."
"keir, I know" Keagan had cut him off sharply "Who is the silver haired noble?" Tarquil gulped
"He is Lord Xaivier of the house Melebranche." Keagan turned his cold saphire eyes back the duel, Goran was already dead, and the crowd disperesd, going about the party almost as if nothing had happened. Xaivier wiped his blade clean of the blood, his face turning into a mask of disgust, as if his blade had been somehow tainted by Goran's blood.

Keagan ran his fingers over his own blade gently, in wonder. Tarquil piped up meekly, his feeble old voice quivering.

"my lord? i-is there anything you require?" Keagan sighed, wishing to challenge Xavier, but he didn't want to spoil the party, blood was hard to clean from the floor, the servents already scrambled to heave Goran's corpse to the door.

"Some brandy and..." Keagan turned to Tarquil, smiling slightly " You may enjoy yourself this evening. I feel like having a dance afterwards." Tarquil bowed low to his lord, then hurried off to fetch his master's desire.

Alone Keagan looked around, his eyes looking for any sign of danger, be it the assasin's dagger, or a listening ear. seeing none he looked down at his rich clothes. They were his formal attire from the academy, dark navy blue with pure silver running down the edges of the uniform, and cape. His black leather shoes struck the marble sharply as he stepped to snatch his glass from Tarquil.

This party would prove most interesting...

[Revelation]

[size=1][color=#696969]Upon her arrival in front of the house of Temozareila, Anansee was reluctant to step foot out of her carriage, but her butler had gotten out and already opened her door. With a sigh, she layed her hand upon his and was escorted inside. Before she entered, she fixed her mask of spider's eyes, breathed in deeply, and put on a smile to greet the others inside. The door opened and the servant of the house greeted them with great respect.

Walking in, the servant took her coat and revealed her illuminating dress and the three jeweled spiders on her shoulders and chest. The servant stared at the arachnids and was taken aback, but suddenly recovered before Anansee could ask anything. The butler excused himself from her presence and entered with the other servants as his mistress entered the main area.

[B]["Such a large crowd, this year. Possibly the largest I've seen yet."][/B]

The guest began to part a way for Anansee as she came through. Their eyes fell upon her and followed her every movement. The younger women in the crowds gossiped, the men talked, and the elders spoke. In their own way, they all were speaking about Anansee. She then came to a stop at a horrendous sight, but was particularly not surprised. She kept her eyes on the silver haired lord, then averted her eyes to a sapphire eyed lord, and finally her eyes fell upon whom she thought to be the head of the household.

[B]["There he stands. Quite handsome, I should think. Hmm, interesting, he comes this way. What should happen next? What should happen next?"][/B]

A smirk hidden beneath a smile gently gave way to her lips. Anansee stood in her emerald green dress, glittering brighter than any diamond or jewel seen before. Her mere presence was gleaming and all could see this glowing beauty, but none said anything. Anansee looked and the head of household bowed to her. Everyone stared on with either gaping mouths, shocked expressions, or gasps. Anansee returned their shock and this man's bow with a graceful curtsy.

[B]"Welcome. I assume you have just arrived?"

"That you are correct, milord."

"Let me introduce myself. I am Belial 'ap Temozareila of the house of Temozareila."

["So, he's the Belial that my servants have been speaking of. Then where is the other Temozareila heir, I wonder?"] "A pleasure to meet you, milord. I am Anansee Jamethiel Bryson of the house of Bryson."[/B][/size][/color]

[Epsilon]

[SIZE=1][COLOR=SlateGray]Snãyuè stared, peering out of the corner of which she had become accustomed to within her few minutes. It was as it had always been. Twice looked upon, but always into respect of her family name; Zhènyû. But, this bothered her not. For nearly half an hour before, she had finished in the area.

Leaning against the pillar at the gather had proved most relaxing. She did, however, find it rather odd that everyone looked as though they were in a still painting. More so, she detested the atmosphere. It exasperated her. The placement reminded Snãyuè of an congregate matching.

Her eyes genteelly fallowing those dancing. There movements so graceful and elegant. Suddenly they stopped. Gasps and whispers. Guest parting left and right noble Temozareila within great strides bowing down to the beautiful Anansee Jamethiel Bryson. Snãyuè found it all very suiting since both were well known for the way of which they held them-selves and for their tactics.


[i]One would suppose...Green really must be the color of jealousy.[/i] she said to her self, [i]Not a women nor lady that has ever laid eyes upon her have not grown in jealousy or envy. Until now; I must be rather stupid or naive.[/i]


The wary smile became one of real hints of joy. Xairiel Noctus Malebranche. Keagan Desslanoch. One a man of slaughter, the other simply seemed to count the corpuses the reaper took the burden upon him self to create. Biting his time. She watched as the two men seemed to drift off in opposite yet single pointed directions.

Snãyuè drifted from her space. Like a ghost she darted in and out of the hoarding mass of nobles and lords. Around the clearing, she hoped to becom acquainted with either one of them.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[Swordsaint]

[SIZE=2]Keagan stepped slowly outside of the teeming throng of nobles, sipping his from his nearly spent glass of brandy. It was of fine stock, strong, and just thick enough to leave a slight burning sensation in his belly. He closed his eyes as he listened to the music the machine churned out, letting the gentle waves of sound carry him to the sweet thoughts of...

A sudden chill sped down his spine, a feeling he had grown accustomed and had more than once savedd his life. Something that had earned him a few snide comments of paranoia(sp?) He turned still smiling, his left hand holding his glass, while his right slid down to his swords hilt.

A femenin voice broke his suspicions, but not his gaurd.
"There's no need for that, Lord Desslanoch." A woman stepped out from behind the pillar closest to the crowd, her radiant beauty illuminating the shadow's around her, while her grey dress accentuated it and seemed to keep her hidden at the same time. Keagan's smile widened, showing the glistening white of his teeth as he bowed to her in respect.
"To whom do I be greeting, surely this rare rose amongst mere lilies has a name." It was her turn to smile as she bowed in turn, a smile that was predatory, not unlike Keagan's at times. Her Ivory skin was flawless, well toned, it looked smooth, even a few feet away. And her eyes, pink with shades of a...almost blood red color setting into them. Her exotic beauty brought up passions in him, passions that few women could arouse in him, he had to have her.
"My name is Lady Snayu Zhenyu, of the house Zhenyu."

Snayu, Keagan knew that name, he had heard somehting of her reputation in the arena. She was rumored to have a brutal cunning knack for fighting that could possibly match his own, another thing that he'd have to conquer in her.
"It is a rare pleasure to meet you Lady Snayu." she waved her hand slightly, her face crinkling somewhat.

"Please, do skip the formalities. Call me Snayu for now, it is a party after all." Keagan bowed slightly again. A familiar tune played from the machine, one he had practiced a dance for some years ago, and he did desire to step out there and enjoy himself. Why not?
"As you wish, Miss Snayu." He held out his gloved hand, grinning warmly at her, ideas forming in his head, plans whirling about. "May I have this dance?"

Her hand, gloved in grey, reached out, gingerly grasping his. She looked at him. almost as if she could hear what he was thinking, his grin grew wolfishly wider. She nodded her head.
"You may."
They both stepped onto the dance floor, twirling gracefully amongst the nobles, all ignorant of the subtle, yet grandiose plans forming around them.[/SIZE]