"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
06-20-2018, 10:36 AM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2018, 01:58 PM by kahzie.)
It takes finesse to weave through the crowd with both hands full, but Ivar manages, avoiding any major collisions and finding an empty seat without dropping a thing. It takes a bit more skill to unload his cargo, but the coffee table had been cleared in preparation for the festivities and the dark haired man finds a place for everything. He un-stacks the plates of crab rangoon and beer-battered asparagus, placing the plate with a half-dozen miniature mousse cups on the arm of the white leather sofa.
The unopened cans of 312 he'd had in each pocket are lined up between his feet, and he downs the shot of whiskey he'd been balancing atop them as soon as he is settled. Seated across from him is a older woman who watches his unpacking with a pursed mouth and a raised brow, but I var merely shrugs and downs one of the crab rangoon.
What is the point of attending these fancy parties if he doesn't at least enjoy the food?
Ivar is not entirely sure why he keeps being invited, though his sister has told him that it's most likely because these bigwigs like being able to brag that they had a Nobel Laureate in attendance. He tends to trust her opinion on things like that (and on other things as well, such as the fitted grey suit he's currently wearing), but he's not certain how his research on the the real-world applicability of theoretical prestidigitation would matter to the type of people who are here to celebrate the launch of a new brokerage firm.
He's already forgotten the name of the firm, but he is definitely not going to forget these little chocolate mousse cups. It is almost difficult to hold the tiny little spoons they'd stuck in them with his heavily tattooed hands, and Ivar eventually gives in and just licks the last remnants out of the clear crystal cup. He gives the grey-haired woman opposite him a wink as he does, and grins as she blushes and glances down like a girl a quarter of her age. For all his poor manners when it comes to hoarding hors d'oeuvres, Ivar Stillwater is still Business Insider's Most Eligible Bachelor of 2018, described as a 'handsome young man with a striking resemblance to a young Jason Momoa, with a savvy scientific mind and more money than God.'
Turning his head and pushing a handful of locs behind his ear, Ivar scans the party. His sister had said there would be other people his age here, but the scene appears to be nothing more than a sea of grey heads. Maybe the 'cool kids' are in another room, but he is reluctant to leave his hoard of delicacies unfinished, and so he remains on the couch, his amber eyes darting curiously through the crowd.
06-20-2018, 02:43 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2018, 02:52 PM by Karat.)
Karat
Blood is Thicker than Water
Another night, another one of my fathers uppity parties. Filled with boozed up old geezers, that when you weren't careful would work in a quick ass grab. Maybe I shouldn't wear such provocative clothing, some say. Well maybe nasty dudes should keep their hands to themselves!
My entrance is swift, as I dip under serving trays carried by waiting staff and scout for potential entertainment. Occasionally fresh meat would find its way to these shin digs and I am more than inclined to create my own party elsewhere. Daddy had a roof top pool after all, and I am sure he and his business mongrels wouldn't miss a few people.
I happen to be passing through a seating area, very near the delicacies that are being devoured by the guests. My hazel eyes land on a creature who possibly can't be here for this party. He is much to young. Too handsome and far too toned to enjoy himself here. I wonder who he is and how he has come to be here. Not realizes(from my position directly behind him) who he really is. I plan my approach. My fine linen lilac dress nearly see through and platinum hair twisted back into an stylish up-do. I am hard to miss but at this angle, I will be unseen. I decide to keep it casual. Accidental even, as my fit physique comes along the arm of the couch. Gently pressing the plate of crab rangoon to begin to fall off the armrest and into his lap. His reflects are much too quick, as I assumed from his build, and he catches the plate just in time. I am already reaching for the item as well as I realize that I have nudged it. The faux surprise look is followed by an apology, "Oh my gosh. I am so sorry..." My hand reaches out and brushes against his muscular arms. Hazel eyes look to his face and immediately I know who this is, "Ivar? Ivar Stillwater? What are you doing here!" There is a rise in my voice at the location in which he has found himself. But as quickly as I ask the question I am really uninterested in the answer. He is here and(looking around the room) here is totally lame!
I straighten my dress and press my hand to his arm again most boldly. "Come with me!" I look around quickly to see if anyone is eyeing us before motioning him to follow. Across the stuffy party and through the back door(just near the balcony) was the entrance to the rooftop elevator...
If she spots anyone else at the "old ppl party" she can grab them on their way to the rooftop but I also assume there are more ppl already partying up at the pool I can also edit
The name of the firm, though so easily forgotten by some individuals, is not something to disregard lightly. Casia Incorporated’s parties are the ones you want to see and want to be seen at. Grandfather made sure they all know, and yet, some other family members had gracefully avoided having to attend the annual yearly closing event. Her own siblings, Kharon and Kali, did, and Mother and Uncle Reilly had easily avoided having to go because of Mother’s sickness. It all lead to one thing: Kylin on Father’s arm, kind of like his date-but-not-really-date.
Because anything is better than for the son of the party’s host to show up alone. But it also means she is stuck at this side for at least a little while. After all, Father has to greet people, investors, bank employees, customers and suppliers, and all the other important people that had gotten an invitation. Politely she smiles, offers her hand, and nods along whenever needed.
But once there is an opportunity to leave, she grabs it with both hands. “Father!” she almost exclaims excitedly, tightening her grip on Kerberos’ arm as she turns to face him. “I think I saw Karat entering!” Kylin does not need to tell him that she is glad to see her cousin, plus she knows that he knows that she is more than ready to ditch the boring business talk. So when he nods, it does not take her long to turn towards the gentlemen with who they had been conversing, and offers them a polite curtsey and a smile. “Please excuse me.”
Needless to say, she does not linger longer than necessary.
Kylin’s navy dress compliments her thick lavender locks, and leaving little to the imagination. It wouldn’t have been her own pick, too revealing – never not-decent though – but Kharon had insisted. And Kylin had never been able to tell her twin brother no. Kali’s approval hadn’t helped her cause either, and thus she had ended up in a fitted navy gown that leaves almost her whole back open. As she rushes up the stairs towards the secret elevator, her nude shoes peek out from under the long skirt.
At the top of the stairs she pauses, and turns around to let her hazel eyes scan the crowd. She was sure she had just seen Karat, but where had her younger cousin ran off to? If Kharon had only chosen to accompany them, then she wouldn’t have hesitated, but alone Kylin shies away from the thought of mingling on her own. And thus she stays in the dark corner of the balcony, almost hidden behind one of the thick, deep red curtains.
Kylin
I imagine her dress to fit something like this
He feels someone behind him milliseconds before the plate is knocked into his lap. Catching it is easy enough, even though he manages to get duck sauce all over his thumb. Ivar is expecting a clumsy silver-haired patron of Casia Inc, but his hand pauses halfway to his mouth (previously intent on lick the dipping sauce off to avoid wasting it) as he realizes that the figure leaning across the arm of the chair to help catch the plate possesses a set of breasts that definitely don’t belong on a sixty-year-old woman. His brown eyes flick up to her face to find that she is looking at him with recognition.
That is no longer uncommon; being recognized by strangers has lost its novelty in the last six months. Still, the strangers aren’t usually gorgeous young women in nearly-transparent dresses, and Ivar finds her surprise endearing. Even if he had suspected she’d planned the accident (and he doesn’t) he wouldn’t have minded. There are worse things than a little duck sauce, which he casually sucks from his thumb before telling her:
“No harm done.”
He isn’t expecting the invitation, but he likes the bold way her small hand rests on his forearm. Swinging his feet around the beers on the floor, Ivar leaves them behind without a second thought. Parties like these always have an excess of food and drinks. In fact, there’s a low round table of Jack and Cokes right near the elevator entrance. Waiting for the pale haired girl to call the elevator, Ivar crouches down and reaches beneath the dropcloth on the table. His hand finds the server’s storage of full bottles that he had known would be there (he’s attended enough of these parties to have observed the caterer’s habits, after all).
He turns back at the sound of the elevator, and is unscrewing the top of the bottle when his attention is caught by a figure in a dark dress. He glances back at the first girl, but she doesn’t seem to have noticed the second girl, whose long fall of lavender hair is familiar even from behind.
“Kylin?” He says, reaching out a hand for her shoulder. Her skin is warm beneath it, just as he remembers. He hasn’t seen the girl since their first encounter at a party not much different than this one. They’d been about to disappear together into a dark coat closet when he’d gotten a phone call from his lab and had to rush off. He’s regretted not getting her phone number, and Google hadn’t been much help. Casia Inc was rather protective of their privacy, and as Ivar glances back at the opening elevator, he realizes that his rescuer shares the same striking features that (along with their extreme wealth) have made the Casia family so famous.
“We’re going…somewhere,” he tells her, sliding his hand down her arm as though he means to take her hand, but leaving the decision to do so up to her. “Where is it we’re going?” He asks the first woman, grateful that Kylin is slightly behind him and cannot see that way he traces the neat figure that her dress does nothing to hide.
I move us quickly across the elongated room. Hoping to avoid being stopped to chit chat about another company plan or complement of my presence. I frequent these events only to find others to sneak off to the real party.
His height overshadows me so I can easily tell that he is following. Happily I might add. It doesn't surprise me that anyone would want to flee this place if given the opportunity. When finally we approach the elevator I press the up button. Faintly I hear him and the name on his voice causes me to spin around quickly. In my excitement to see my cousin, I leap forwards with arms extended, "Kylin!! You're here," I quickly look back to where the elevator door begin to part with a ding, before reaching out and grabbing her hand, "Perfect timing Cuz! Hurry! Get in!" I shush them into the carrier and, once we are all in, I press my hand to the sensor and allow the machine to recognize me. Lighting green upon completion, I hit the P emblem then turn to face them, "The real party of course! I'm Karat by the way," I giggle in amusement at my finds. Eagerly awaiting the pulleys to bring us to the roof top...
Ding
The golden doors open to reveal a smashing pool party. Being the gracious host that I am I wave them to exit the elevator. Tossing the fallen strands of blonde locks from my eyes before exiting myself. I skip forwards and towards the bar but my eyes catch the glass bottles in Ivars hands, "I'd offer you a drink but it seems you already found one." My voice is light and witty. Turning to Kylin I ask, "What would you like?" Once I have her order I rush to the bar. My gaze meeting a few friends and family that have already made it to pool level. I smile and wave before finding myself ordering our drinks. I can't help but notice the midnight sky and sliver of moon above us.
With drinks in hand, I head back to where I had left them. Finding them chatting and not far off. I don't bother to ask how they know one another. It was most likely at a meeting my uncle had dragged her to. None of us kids went willingly. Handing Kylin her drink, I sip from the florescent straw in mine, before looking towards the pool. "You got your suit on right?" My question directed at Kylin. She, of anyone, should know to have worn one. Clothes never last long at the parties here. At the same moment I look to the man standing in a grey suit and snicker before tracing up his body with my eyes, "You won't need one." I wink as I nibble my straw again before turning to set my drink on a delicate glass table near the poolside. Others were already indulging in games of water volleyball and chicken fight by the time they had arrived. Droplets of water splash up towards them. Threatening to ruin their party attire. "I am gonna go take this uncomfortable thing off..." My eyes look to the shower room/bathroom across the way, "Coming Kylin?"
06-21-2018, 09:18 AM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2018, 09:20 AM by Nymf.)
She was late. Why was she always late?
Pulling into a parking space, Nymf gazed up at the large house with a growing sense of dread. High society was still a fairly new concept for her and she often times found events stifling and claustrophobic. It wasn’t by her own merit that she had found herself tossed into such scenarios, which, potentially, made her appearance there sting even more. Sucking in a deep breath she pulled down the visor of her car and flipped open the mirror. Staring back at her was a face she hardly recognized. One most days she opted to avoid makeup and glamor she was forced to abide by otherwise. To see herself painted so flawlessly, it turned her stomach.
Turning the key in her car she pushed the door open and ducked out. Frozen she glanced up towards the house, alight and bustling with activity. Laughter and conversation filled the cool night air and she attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. Summoning up her courage she pulled at the hem of her knee length red laced dress and strode towards the mansion with feigned confidence. Grasping her clutch her blue eyes pivoted about. Within the pits of her mind she couldn’t help but feel like her invitation had been a consolation prize, a pitied pat on the shoulder.
Her husband’s untimely death had shocked everyone, no one more so than Nymf. For months she had locked herself away, avoiding social events like the plague. She dreaded their curious glances and whispered assumptions. Even outside of their circles she imagined their words, such a shame…and so young…beautiful widow… She was just another spectacle at their show of faces.
Knocking on the door, it wasted no time in opening itself, revealing the mass of bodies within. Hanging her shawl on the rack she gazed about, instantly overwhelmed. There was not one familiar face. Smiling politely, she weaved through the many well dressed people, feeling slightly underdressed herself. Grabbing a glass of wine off a silver platter she sipped it timidly, contemplating an early departure.
Nymf
I Have No Tears Left To Cry
Dx someone come and rescue her and make her happy! (Read: corrupt her)
Pushing up the thickly framed glasses on my nose, I excuse myself from the crowd following a permissive nod from Mr. Casia. Well, one of the Misters Casia. This party is full of them, but the one I step away from is the CFO, my direct supervisor and director of all things financial. My presence here is mostly a formality; as his executive assistant my job technically ends outside the doors of the firm. It hadn’t stopped him from requesting I send three faxes and take a phone call from our partners in Japan, but I remind myself that the money is good (amazing even) and that this party counts as overtime.
I’m not working the Senior Executive position that I told my parents I was, but I’m living comfortably (in a 3 bedroom apartment with 5 roommates), and almost fit into this nicely-dressed crowd with his dark blue suit (thank you thrift store). I have more in common with the wait staff than the flashy socialites and wealthy businessmen, which is why I smile happily when I find Nick distributing drinks at one of the many bars. He works in IT at the company in addition to this weekend serving gig, and we chat about the newest Star Wars movie (I loved it, he was neutral) until I hear the click of the front door closing behind me.
Turning around, I am struck speechless. It takes a well-aimed jab to my stomach by my friend to stop my staring. He whispers something rapidly to me, but not until I hear the ’you know who’s widow’ that I piece together the woman’s identity and the reason she looks so familiar. Oh of course that’s who she is, and why so stunning a creature is here alone. I didn’t know she attended parties like these, but then – I don’t usually attend them either.
She’s coming to see me!
Oh, no. she’s coming to get a drink at the bar I’m standing beside, and grabs a glass of wine from the silver platter without ever glancing at me one. For all my mother tells me I am a ‘very handsome boys; should be so popular with the ladies’, I am most certainly not. I have had a grand total of two relationships in my thirty-three years; each of them ending in a “it’s not me, it’s you” conversation.
Taking a deep breath and another swallow of the mango flavored rum, I pluck up the courage to ask:“So, what’s there to do at these parties? So far my favorite parts have been the eating and drinking, but there’s got to be something else, right?”
The longer she is looking down at the crowd from the balcony, the further her thoughts start to wander. No longer are her hazel eyes actively searching for Karat, instead she thinks of some quite less interesting things. Like the things Father had asked her to do for his meeting tomorrow afternoon, and organizing the secret family lunch for Mother’s birthday. Unconsciously her left hand rises from the balustrade it had been resting on, to pull her tick lavender braid across her left shoulder, baring her back completely.
She had been so lost in thought, that she hadn’t noticed the pair coming up from the same stairs as she had just used, with the secret elevator in mind. Her name, and his hand touching her arm, startle her. “I-Ivar?” she says, just as surprised as he had just done, turning ever so slightly in his direction as she gazes up at him through her thick black lashes. Without really noticing it, Kylin has taken a tiny step in his directly, her body reacting to his presence and warm touch, as innocent as it may be. And this time Father is not standing nearby to pry her away from the handsome bachelor.
Before she can ask what he is doing here – even though the answer would be an obvious one – he announces that they were going somewhere. Instinctively her hand searches his as Kylin leans forward to peek around his shoulder, both curious and strangely jealous of whoever this ‘we’ might be. “Kar?” she manages to get out before she has her slightly younger cousin in her arms. As her right hand is still in Ivar’s, she embraces Karat in a one armed hug, laughing softly as she pulls back to press a kiss on the other girl’s cheek. “I was looking for you!” she exclaims almost as excitedly, allowing herself – and through her Ivar, as she’s still holding his hand – to be shushed into the elevator.
It’s only there that she realises she is still holding it. Flustered she releases her hold, but does not pry his hand away from hers. Secretly, Kylin hopes he wasn’t about to let go too. Sending Karat a look, she smiles ever so slightly and shakes her head amused. “What she is trying to say,” she starts off, moving her hazel eyes to peek up at Ivar to finish. “.. is that we are going to the rooftop pool.”
As they exit the elevator, they’re met with a dimly lit pool, but it does not need light to look impressive, it simply is impressive. The night sky above them is full of stars, but the moon herself has yet to show. Her hazel eyes are starring up, soft smile curving the corners of her painted lips. Karat’s question catches her by surprise, and it takes a couple of seconds before Kylin answers. “Uuh.. Whatever you’re having..” Once her cousin skips off, her gaze moves back to Ivar, a shy smile tugging on the corners of her lips. For the lack of anything better to say, after nodding to the skyline view, she says; “The sight is amazing.. isn’t it?”
Her cousin does not take a long time to get back and she accepts the drink with a small smile, thankful for something to focus her attention on. “Thank you. What is it?” It would be a lie to say that Kylin knows her drinks. Her lips wrap around the brightly colored straw, and sips it slightly to get a careful first taste of the drink.
As if she didn’t hear Karat’s question right, one of her eyebrows cocks up slightly as she grins at the other girl, silently asking if Karat really did just ask that. “You know I would make sure to bring it with me” she answers, the smile audible in her voice. What Karat say’s next is met with a not so charming squeak, and a light slap of her hand against Karat’s arm, blood rushing to her cheeks. “Karat!” Kylin does not dare to look at Ivar, instead she turns and gently nudges her cousin in the direction of the girl bathroom. Only then peeking across her shoulder. “Please ignore that, my cousin tents to ramble..”
A sigh escapes past her lips once they make it inside, but the moment of relief does not last long. “Did you really have to say that?” she almost whines, cheeks still flustered as she shakes her head before covering her face with both hands. But when she spreads her fingers, to peek through, Kylin too is unable to hold back her shy smile. “Knowing you, you really did have to” she teases, before making her way over to her personal locker to pull out her swimwear. The navy bikini isn’t anything special, not too revealing, but still elegant. In that matter, the cousins aren’t alike at all, but Kylin likes Karat just like she is.
“Did you know Grandfather had invited him?” she asks, glancing across her shoulder in Karat’s way as she somehow manages to get herself out of the fitted navy dress. What her question really is, is if his presence wouldn’t be missed downstairs. Ivar couldn’t be invited just for their entertainment, right?
06-21-2018, 02:49 PM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2018, 02:50 PM by Leilan.)
Leaning backwards against the wall, the redhaired young man slowly fumbles the fingers of his left hand behind his back, all the while chatting with some slightly elderly lady - politely telling her about his camera's at home (he brought a waterproof one here, like he always does on parties; nothing too fancy and worth about nothing, but sturdy enough to survive beer, wine, cocktails and pools). Hopefully none of the other, thousand-or-so elderly see what he's doing. Because he's about to disrupt the ring circuit that leads the music and conversation to their fancy in-ear hearing aids, in hopes of them turning the music up or at least not noticing when he turns up the volume himself. He knows their aids are there - as well as their pretty teeth which are all fake, and their hair colouring, and other things he doesn't want to experience.
In the corner of his eye he has noted some platina-blonde girl in a sheen lavender dress pulling a man (they're both probably around his age; children of the natural-grey heads surrounding them on this floor) towards the stairs. He quickly pulls a cable with his finger and when the chatty lady in front of him frowns to look around, he makes his excuse fast, saying he should probably ask the DJ what is going on.
The latter is quick enough to see some of the elderly are having hearing problems and seems to have no problem turning the music up, so, before he ever gets there, he directs himself to the bar. Now, as a photographer for fancy people, his life is as easy as any of them; free entrance to the parties, girls willing to get their pics shot in hopes of gaining the fashion-magazine's attention (rarely ever works, but he doesn't tell) - all too easy. Perhaps even better, because he has yet to be put into the gossip part of any magazine, himself. He could probably make it there - his mother is of great influence, although she has never been willing to give their children a position and not have them work for it. Which is why he never asked, and come to think of it, he wouldn't in retrospect either. He loves to dye his hair now or then, even if today he fancies his natural red, and he's pretty sure he wouldn't have a say in it if he started to work on the other side of the cameras.
Speaking of beautiful images, by the way. One very gorgeous specimen of a human straight ahead. Skin fair as milk, hair flowing like honey, dress fitting in all the right places - ah, someone is there before him. He catches the man's words though, and elbows him softly. "The better part of the party would be upstairs. Care for a refreshing dive? I'm sure it would make the best pictures." he tells the man but asks the lady - always ask the lady questions, never tell them stuff. Then, he smiles his most charming smile once again, his white teeth flickering (being the offspring of models indeed, does that to a person), then he jumps back into the mass of people. They'll follow or leave, because, down here the music is too loud for those without hearing problems, and upstairs is all the fun.
His eyes dart through the room, is any beautiful specimen left behind? He can't be sure, but climbs the stairs anyway. Heading straight for the bathrooms, he catches a glim of someone in lavender, but a second appreciative look shows him the door only - well, better be quick to change then, there's so many beautiful people in this pool, he'll have to be around and take their pictures. Or shoot some small films. Oh, the fun of a compact waterproof camera.
look at picture I found (an acknowledgement to whomever pointed this man model out to me yesterday because he's cute and he looks right about to walk after some interesting looking girl)
Also I'm tagging @[Svedka] because he needs to be here, so you're welcome radar xD.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
06-21-2018, 04:59 PM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2018, 05:45 PM by Breckin.)
What was I thinking?
It had been nearly noon that day when she felt the familiar vibration and ping of a text alert in her pocket. Enjoying the rare downtime she used to work on the computer at the cafe, the sudden sensation nearly startled her out of the rolling chair she sat upon. Content that no one was looking, she quietly snatched the phone out of its pocket, only to sigh loudly and slightly roll her eyes when she quickly read the message. She sent back a quick response, and simultaneously shook her head in disbelief before shoving the phone back in its proper place before anyone was the wiser.
Now she stood craning her neck, her eyes tracing the height of the building upward to the point where in met with the deep evening sky. Breckin didn't remember her friend yanking on her arm, dragging her out of her reverie and into the elevator to take them to floor the party was taking place on. Hell, she didn't remember even walking through the door or when exactly her friend had left her standing awkwardly alone at the door. It wasn't until a passing server offered her a piece of strange looking cheese (maybe?) that her attention was brought back to the present and she fumbled for a polite decline. Glancing around her slightly dazed, she could vaguely recall the younger girl mentioning something about going over to talk to a "silver fox" she saw floating around the hors d'ouevre table. Making her way over to said table, the only people she came to find were -big surprise- a grouping of older couples discussing things in business lingo she had no knowledge of. Please come with me!, her friend had begged, It'll be fun and you can people watch like you like to do! Heaven forbid Breckin had suggested her friend go by herself, to which she had gotten a sharp rebuke for making such a ludacris suggestion. Could you really live with yourself if your friend ended up getting raped or murdered, because she went to a party all by herself?!
Cursing her friend under breath for her characteristic vanishing act, she made a sharp turn to head directly toward the bar. The shifty girl knew what she was doing when she guilted Breckin into coming, she had even managed to somehow convince her into driving them here. Well, she would retaliate in her own way this time and she would certainly make use of the freely running liquor tonight. That's what Uber was for afterall, right? Right.
"Vodka cranberry, please," she said with a shy smile to the man tending the bar. She hadn't noticed the gentleman close in age to her father sidle up next to her just in time for him to tell the bartender before he turned away, "Put it on my tab, Phil," he tried to say suavely with a not-so-subtle wink in her direction. It was an open bar, so Breckin was unsure whether to laugh or smile at the awkward attempt at flirting and her smile came out somewhere in between a smile and a grimace. "Actually, I'm going to need two of those, Phil," she whispered quickly to the bartender.
With two ruby drinks in hand, she turned to scan the crowd one last time, hoping to make out her wayward friend or at least a somewhat familiar face in general. Her gaze momentarily lingers on the few younger people near her age, and for a second she debates whether or not to approach one of them or not. Deciding on the latter, she retreats to the area she believe the entrance to the pool to be.
They had arrived closer to when the party started so she is relieved to see the lounge chairs are mostly unoccupied. Finding the most private spot in the corner, she set her two drinks down at the end of the chair before kicking off her heels and propping herself to sit indian style, while properly draping her pale skirt to cover her, of course. Having been too lazy to undo the loose dual braids from her day job, she let the heavy weight of her dark tresses fall as they had earlier. Pulling her latest novel out of her purse, she settles in to dive back into her fictional release, finding a meager solitude at last.
But it is only temporary as the small laughter begins to grow louder and more raucous, finally prying her eyes away from the pages in time to see a trio of a tattooed man and two pretty women enter the vista. Shortly later followed by some other people closer to her age. A dark brow raises, mildly intrigued by what was going on around her, taking the opportunity to grab one of her drinks and suck it down with three large gulps. A bitter tingling traces down her throat and she shivers as the burn reaches her empty stomach. Nearly properly liquored, she makes no attempt to move from where she currently was. If anything, she only tries to push herself further back into the meager shadows of her corner, content to watch and not partake. For now.
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