the secret of our world is written in the stars
Standing beside Wishbone is no easy feat - she commands the crowd merely with a look. Tonight is no different, especially as she demands entrance for him as he stands at her shoulder, a grin plastered on his bearded face. He says nothing because he knows he doesn’t have to; Wishbone said she would get him in and the tall man merely leans back on his heels and folds his arms across his broad chest, a quirked eyebrow accompanying the smoldering smirk as he stares down the large security guard at the doors. Svedka is not surprised at the threat given to the men at the doorway, almost ruining the whole plan completely by bursting out into laughter when the guard’s face drained of all color. Hilarious.
For a moment Svedka’s blue eyes are taken aback by the sheer elegance of the giant manor, now understanding why Wishbone had chosen his outfit for him. There had been a jacket to accompany the dark black of his dress pants and the linen white shirt, but there is no sign of it across his back because he had deliberately left it in the car they arrived in, careless for frivolousness and the way it made him itch. He is most likely extremely underdressed (the wayward eyes are obvious, but he only assumes it is because of the aura of prowess that accompanies his half-sister, as well as the rumors of the handsome, golden-haired brother that is always by her side), but already he is looking for a drink while Wishbone turns away from him. He is extremely thankful that no one will expect him to mingle and make small talk, especially as he swipes a fluted glass of champagne from a butler.
With a swift tip of the glass to his lips, the sparkling liquid is gone within the two or three steps he has taken, thoughtlessly placing the empty glass into the ivory-gloved hand of an older woman. He’s headed towards the bar before he can hear her gasps of protest, A woman in red immediately grasps his attention, brows rising amusedly at the sight of her, stopping his direction towards the bar. But she has not seen him and instead is making her way upstairs, with a few other people that Svedka did not recognize. Another platter has floated by his face and he grabs whatever drink is there - another glass of dry champagne - and watches with curious blue eyes as Nymf ascends to the rooftop. As she disappears he finishes his small fluted glass with a single swallow, turning to see that Wishbone’s lithe and tall frame was moving towards him purposefully, with two drinks in hand.
He eagerly trades his empty glass for the cocktail, both him and Wishbone taking swift gulps nearly in unison. He lowers the glass from his face and a wild grin meets Wishbone - already buzzing and ready to leave the thickly tensioned room and go to wherever part of the manor that his sister told him would be the highlight of his night.
By the time they’ve found the hallway, Svedka’s drink is empty with melting ice. They arrive on the rooftop quickly, and it does not take long for his sister to find more of what they were already chasing. His nose wrinkles as she swipes the bottle from the table with a giggle, showing it to him like it is a trophy to behold. “Hilarious.” He admits with sarcasm, making a face at her. Svedka laughs, snatching his namesake from her and loosening the top. He takes a quick sip of it - cucumber lime? What the hell? - with only a small wince on his face, swallowing with raised eyebrows. “Oh I hope I really don’t.” He sticks out his tongue, offering the open neck of the bottle to her. He glances around quickly, the market lights illuminating the pool area. There is a swim up bar, as well as a covered bar with cushioned lounge chairs, and a myriad of people standing about. He’s looking for the flash of red he had seen downstairs, his blue eyes flickering through the small crowd that seems to be growing.
She is enchanting in the moonlight, though he is not surprised by that - he is more surprised that he’s somehow found her again. They do not run in the same circles, though he knows that Nymf worked with Wishbone. His grin is mischievous as he flashes a glance to Wishbone. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” Because, of course, the gathering up here - while younger and more exciting - still felt so drab.
Not moments after the declaration had left his lips, a large man saunters up to them. Of course, he is clearly more interested in Wishbone (Svedka doesn’t mind as he grabs the open bottle from her and pours another shot of it into his mouth, grinning continuously) and seems to know her, though Svedka cannot help with quirk of his brow as the man’s attentions shifts to him. “Svedka,” he offers, grasping Ivar’s hand with a firm and quick shake. Svedka’s shimmering eyes are mischievously glowing, “do excuse me.” There is a soft wink given to Wishbone (and perhaps directed at Ivar as well) before he places the bottle of vodka onto the table where they had found it, and brushes past them both - his eyes are set keenly on Nymf.
A butler passes him and he grabs whatever is there - wine, maybe? There are already two other men that accompany her from downstairs (of course, why wouldn’t there be?) but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see her again, or the soft surprise that would be on her face when she saw him. The smile on his face never fades even as she goes to sit, content with hiding herself like she had the first time they had been together. It had been electrifying, and he did not mind being the one to coax her out of the shell she feels so comfortable in. It is endearing and rather sweet, but there is another side of her that Svedka had loved getting to know.
“Nymf,” comes the smooth silk of his voice paired with a charming smile, leaning towards her slightly to extend a open hand toward her for her to clasp. “I’ve been looking for you.”
For a moment Svedka’s blue eyes are taken aback by the sheer elegance of the giant manor, now understanding why Wishbone had chosen his outfit for him. There had been a jacket to accompany the dark black of his dress pants and the linen white shirt, but there is no sign of it across his back because he had deliberately left it in the car they arrived in, careless for frivolousness and the way it made him itch. He is most likely extremely underdressed (the wayward eyes are obvious, but he only assumes it is because of the aura of prowess that accompanies his half-sister, as well as the rumors of the handsome, golden-haired brother that is always by her side), but already he is looking for a drink while Wishbone turns away from him. He is extremely thankful that no one will expect him to mingle and make small talk, especially as he swipes a fluted glass of champagne from a butler.
With a swift tip of the glass to his lips, the sparkling liquid is gone within the two or three steps he has taken, thoughtlessly placing the empty glass into the ivory-gloved hand of an older woman. He’s headed towards the bar before he can hear her gasps of protest, A woman in red immediately grasps his attention, brows rising amusedly at the sight of her, stopping his direction towards the bar. But she has not seen him and instead is making her way upstairs, with a few other people that Svedka did not recognize. Another platter has floated by his face and he grabs whatever drink is there - another glass of dry champagne - and watches with curious blue eyes as Nymf ascends to the rooftop. As she disappears he finishes his small fluted glass with a single swallow, turning to see that Wishbone’s lithe and tall frame was moving towards him purposefully, with two drinks in hand.
He eagerly trades his empty glass for the cocktail, both him and Wishbone taking swift gulps nearly in unison. He lowers the glass from his face and a wild grin meets Wishbone - already buzzing and ready to leave the thickly tensioned room and go to wherever part of the manor that his sister told him would be the highlight of his night.
By the time they’ve found the hallway, Svedka’s drink is empty with melting ice. They arrive on the rooftop quickly, and it does not take long for his sister to find more of what they were already chasing. His nose wrinkles as she swipes the bottle from the table with a giggle, showing it to him like it is a trophy to behold. “Hilarious.” He admits with sarcasm, making a face at her. Svedka laughs, snatching his namesake from her and loosening the top. He takes a quick sip of it - cucumber lime? What the hell? - with only a small wince on his face, swallowing with raised eyebrows. “Oh I hope I really don’t.” He sticks out his tongue, offering the open neck of the bottle to her. He glances around quickly, the market lights illuminating the pool area. There is a swim up bar, as well as a covered bar with cushioned lounge chairs, and a myriad of people standing about. He’s looking for the flash of red he had seen downstairs, his blue eyes flickering through the small crowd that seems to be growing.
She is enchanting in the moonlight, though he is not surprised by that - he is more surprised that he’s somehow found her again. They do not run in the same circles, though he knows that Nymf worked with Wishbone. His grin is mischievous as he flashes a glance to Wishbone. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” Because, of course, the gathering up here - while younger and more exciting - still felt so drab.
Not moments after the declaration had left his lips, a large man saunters up to them. Of course, he is clearly more interested in Wishbone (Svedka doesn’t mind as he grabs the open bottle from her and pours another shot of it into his mouth, grinning continuously) and seems to know her, though Svedka cannot help with quirk of his brow as the man’s attentions shifts to him. “Svedka,” he offers, grasping Ivar’s hand with a firm and quick shake. Svedka’s shimmering eyes are mischievously glowing, “do excuse me.” There is a soft wink given to Wishbone (and perhaps directed at Ivar as well) before he places the bottle of vodka onto the table where they had found it, and brushes past them both - his eyes are set keenly on Nymf.
A butler passes him and he grabs whatever is there - wine, maybe? There are already two other men that accompany her from downstairs (of course, why wouldn’t there be?) but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see her again, or the soft surprise that would be on her face when she saw him. The smile on his face never fades even as she goes to sit, content with hiding herself like she had the first time they had been together. It had been electrifying, and he did not mind being the one to coax her out of the shell she feels so comfortable in. It is endearing and rather sweet, but there is another side of her that Svedka had loved getting to know.
“Nymf,” comes the smooth silk of his voice paired with a charming smile, leaning towards her slightly to extend a open hand toward her for her to clasp. “I’ve been looking for you.”
(be my escape)
Svedka
svedka is obviously the guy in his html!
he's wearing: link
