Scenario Entitled: Costume Ball - Part One!Characters:
Rayne
Rooke
Marayla DiMeglio
Gareth
Smiles
Tenrai
Hiro
Location: Freedom Hotel - Banquet Hall
Date: mid-Decrembe, 108 P.A.
Freedom Hotel - Banquet Hall One
A chamber of grand dimensions, this hall seems to be designed to hold as much as two thousand people comfortably, including all the necessary furnishings for such a number. The cream panelled, sea-green walls are sectioned every twenty feet by burnished, copper-plated pillars, and rise up approximately forty-five feet to curve inwards to a great ceiling. It glows with lightweight, dangling chandeliers that resemble giant, healthy bunches of green grapes. The floor is a broad expanse of highly polished pine, attractive shapes cut from various shades of the wood. A five foot strip of speckled blue velveteen carpet runs the perimeter for those who would rather rest their tootsies than jitter on the dancefloor.
The hall has been set up with circular tables just inside the wooden edge, running lengthwise along the right side of the room. Two tablecloths overlap and brush the floor, with buff-colored, cushioned seating tucked into eight places at each table. If the overhead chandeliers have dimmed for mood, elegant electric lanterns are available in the middle of each table for individual lighting. Across the room, three long buffet-tables are maintained by catering staff, serving excellently-prepared meals and fingerfoods to match the time of day. Nearby, a section of wall is devoted to a wetbar, for serving selections of wine and elegant drinks, nothing too strong of course. In the left hand corner nearest the double-doored exit, a semi-circular DJ's booth is set up, running wires along to speaker hook-ups at various strategic places in the hall. Beside that is a small raised stage, complete with podium and microphone, and a long welcome table, manned by friendly costumed staff.
{<<OOC>>: For more details, type +room.}Costumes
A good sixty percent of the population here have put in the effort to come in costume to the ball. The rest have simply come in their evening wear, to marvel the interesting sights, partake of food and dancing, and perhaps learn a little along the way. While most of the 'historical' outfits are not as elaborate or accurate as those put together by the NLF (Naiad Learning Foundation) or PAP (Pen and Parchment) staff, they are still strange and amusing sights to behold. Here, a Roman slave girl peruses the buffet spread with the Pope. There, a plumed Musketeer dances with Marilyn Monroe.. to The Smiths. The overall look of the past seems horribly eccentric, wasteful, and pretentious, compared to the rather utilitarian styles and practical manner of present day. And eager party-goers are enjoying it while they can.The dancing is in full swing this evening, the main lights off with the clustered 'grape' chandeliers sparkling drifting lights along the polished floor. Individual lanterns are lit at each table, where guests sit and chat while they observe the movements of the floor. A swelling waltz courses over the sound system, and trained dancers demonstrate their skill and grace as they perform for the guests, instructing others in the complicated step-step-step-pivot maneuvers.
Rayne takes a deep breath and steps into the crowded room, head held high. Although it's obvious she is trying to maintain a poised and calm image, her attention is easily diverted by the dazzling decor and outlandish costumes. It's obvious that it's a struggle for her to keep her jaw off the floor.
Marayla DiMeglio slips inside, pausing at the welcoming table to answer the appropriate questions and gather the proper tattoo-and-card. She leans over it a bit so she can carry on a conversation with one of the officials there underneath the noise of the party.
Rayne follows some of the newly entered persons toward the welcome table, fidgeting nervously with her handkerchief.
Rooke is near the welcome table, herself, always the little helper as she stacks another boxload of pearly cards onto the table. She looks up once and a while to see who is registering next.Rayne's Costume Desc
A lithe young woman with long, golden brown hair pulled up atop her head in an extravagant hairstyle with soft, draping ringlets and silky bowed ribbons. Her bright green eyes seem to sparkle in any light and her delicate features and soft, pink lips match well with her trim, petite body. She moves with the grace of a flowing river and smells fresh and clean like the outdoors.
Today Rayne is wearing a lovely floor length dress of silk. The emerald green cloth shimmers and swishes with every step she takes, like a summer breeze on a calm sea. Creamy white, plump breasts are shamelessly framed with a low scooping neckline bordered with exquisite eggshell colored lace. The same lace circles her sleeves at the wrists and peeks out from under the fluffy layers of her skirts and edges the dainty handkerchief she nervously twists between her fingertips. Twinkling diamonds sparkle in a dangling teardrops from her ears and adorn her milky white neck in an ornate necklace accented with an occasional emerald. The same precious stones adorn the bracelet she wears around her left wrist as well as the large brooch that is nestled neatly between her breasts.
With a soft, shy smile, Rayne reaches up nervously with her left hand and tugs at a loose curl, twisting it around her finger. A soft blush touches her cheeks and warms her face.Marayla's Costume Desc
Tonight the costume begins at the top of this woman's head - velvety brown hair is a slick cap against her skin, the edge curling around her cheek to end in a point. In her mid-thirties, she's tall and slender, with her fair share of curves. Dusky skin, faint olive, surrounds black eyes that show every emotion as it occurs; flashing when angry, dancing with laughter, placid with serenity. Nonetheless, despite all the money she evidently poured into her looks, she can't quite be anything more than slightly more than plain. Even her voice, a quiet and soothing thing in a low soprano, can't change that fact.
Slender arms are bare to the world with the dress that drapes down this woman's body. The neckline is square, and hangs low to show off her decolletage, what little of it there is. That view is enhanced by the long bead necklaces that fall down past her waist, glass beads that gather up light and send it flaring back out again, just as the silver rings on her fingers do. Her firey red dress ends just above her knees, three layers to the skirt portion that flare up whenever she walks. White stockings stretch up her legs, rolled up at the top so they're visible under the hem. A pair of slippers complete the ensemble, a matching red to her dress. The 1920's are reborn.Rooke's Costume Desc
You see a young woman of moderate height (5'5"), dressed in a blouse and skirt ensemble that is entirely unlike any known Tolkeen fashion. The white batiste blouse is fairly loose and modest, with light blue cotton lace inserts of leaf and bow patterns. Its collar is high, three bands of lace encircling her throat, while a star-cut frill of pin-tucked batiste traces her breast from shoulder to shoulder. Puffed sleeves taper into three lace wrist bands. Little round padded buttons fasten right down the back from the collar to where the blouse is tucked into a long walking skirt or brown wool twill. It is trimmed by black wool braiding, but is otherwise of a very simple cut, narrow waist to ankle brushing hem. Pert brown heeled boots tie up the front to mid-calf, to complete this turn-of-the-20th-century outfit.
Her hair is a dark brown-red, approaching a deep glossy mahoghany. It is all swept up in a fetching wave, tucked up in the back in a twist, with errant forelocks escaping to coil around her face. Concealing powder lightens her usually tawny-toned skin, dusting over some discoloured patches under her eyes; alert, light grey eyes, sootily lashed and topped by straight dark brows, on a winsome face drawn with valiant structure. Usually, her manner is thoughtful and sober, from facial expression to body posture to her rust-tinged voice.Rayne examines the table nervously, not quite sure what to do. After a moment of confusion, she decides to watch some of the other newcomers to follow their lead in the matter. She catches a glimpse of Rooke in the confusion and smiles in relief. A familiar face, "Rooke!" she exclaims, "Good to see you. You're looking lovely tonight."
Rooke lifts her chin in a curious quirk as she hears her name. After staring at Rayne across the length of the table, she abandons her task to trot around to the front. She steps past Marayla with an absently curious look at her costume, but not particularly her individual features, and approaches Rayne. "Gosh," she chirrups, "Rayne, do you ever look good!" Acting 'in character'? Or 'Just Plain Ol' Weird Rooke'? It's hard to tell.
Rayne titters nervously, "I feel like such a fool. I'm afraid I'm going to trip over my own skirt or drop an earing in someone's lap. It feels good to get out and about, I've been cooped up with pnumonia this last month or so, you know."
Marayla DiMeglio accepts her dance-card and slides the rope 'round her wrist. Then it's out she goes into the crowds, paying no mind to the greetings happening between the other two women.
Rooke cocks her head, looking mildly embarassed by Rayne's news for some reason. If there's a blush, it doesn't show through her make-up. "Well.. no, I didn't know.. I've been... out. Of town," she adds, reaching up to straighten a hat that doesn't really need straightening. But then, who really knows what's right with this quaint, modest costume. "Here.. have you registered yet?" She gestures to the man who looks expectantly at Rayne, laptop console at the ready. What, record all the new guests with a feathered ink pen - are you mad? "Don't forget to sign the guest book... and here, take a card."
Rayne blinks, "Um.." she looks a little shy and confused, but then smiles warmly, "Alright. Thanks, Rooke." She turns to the gentleman with the power to register and offers him the information he needs. In between answering questions and listening to explainations, Rayne finally offers Rooke a sidelong glance and asks, "So... where did you go? Was this a business trip?"
Rooke hums along with the main melody of the waltz for a moment before she focuses on Rayne again. "Hm.. business? Er, something like that. Was the new-mo-nia very bad? I hear it can be," she slides onto the next subject with a twitch of her skirt, bouncing slightly to the music.
Rayne steps away from the welcoming table to allow a wave of new people to sign up. She grins broadly, "Rooke. You little she-devil. I'm psychic, you can't hide anything from me. It was all over some MAN, wasn't it!" She grins triumphantly, glad to have figured out this little puzzle.
Rooke follows Rayne a little ways from the table, but leans back with wide eyes as she is accused. "What.. are you.. Rayne, please.." She falls into character, assuming said character is a blushing lily of propriety. "How apalling to gossip.. such a public place," she demurs, reaching for Rayne's elbow to draw her further towards the punchbowl.
Rayne smirks knowingly and lets herself be diverted to the punch. Her eyes search the crowded room now that she's a little more at ease, but she doesn't seem to find what she's looking for so she returns her gaze to Rooke.
Marayla DiMeglio can be seen every now and then in the crowds, scribbling in dance-cards along the edges, or actually dancing with someone out on the floor.
Rayne glances at the fancy card thingy and shrugs, "So... what? I'm supposed to pimp myself out and fill this card up or something?" In a not so lady-like way she pushes up her cleavage and grins, "Well, so be it then, I can do that."
Rooke glances down at the card in her own hand, and nods. "Yes, supposedly..." She smiles in a horrified but pleasant way at Rayne's bodice 'adjusting'. "Ah.. just what is all this, anyway? It's so.. flouncy." She bats a bit at a trill of lace on the costume.
The DJ pushes his floppy hat up from his forehead, and announces through the speakers as the waltz comes to a flourishing close, "Wonderful performance, thank you.. and I hope the rest of ye were watching close, 'cause there'll be another later on tonight. That was 'Blue Danube'.. enchanting! Now, for a bit of a change, we leap forward, er, three centuries," he says a little uncertainly. In the gathered masses, guests laugh patiently, some of them clearly doubtful that there were -that- many hundreds of years teeming with civilized humanity. "A piece from the Big Band," he DJ adds, and moments later, trumpets blare staccato across the dance floor.. ahh, more of a jitterbug number, eh?
Rayne shrugs at Rooke and grins, "Frilly can be fun. At least for an evening. Even if it does itch." now she looses all sensibility and reaches down to scratch violently at her leg, "The tights itch terribly, though. UGH."
Now /this/ is the stuff. Marayla doesn't have much practice at this sort of dancing - hardly the sort of thing one learns these days - but she's certainly willing to try. So after a bit of watching, she joins the crowds on the dancefloor, jitterbugging away with some handsomely dressed gentlebeing.
Rooke peers down at Rayne's antics, perhaps pretending to be mortified. But she smiles halfway through and ruins the effect. She leans in, whispering loudly, "I'm not wearing any tights." Shocking! Her eyes wander the dancefloor and she watches for a moment as Marayla and the gentlebeing trip the light fantastic to the energetic, boisterous music. "Cripes.. I would love to learn that step." Observant eyes follow the intricate twists and flaunts of the hands, feet, heads, and hips of various dancers.
Rayne watches the fantastic (and not so fantastic) dancers going through the motions. She taps her foot to the music (more than slightly offbeat) and seems to be enjoying herself despite the lack of a dance partner.
A handsome young man in his mid 20's approaches Rayne and Rooke. He's dressed very simply in a toga looking getup, showing off his toned and tanned upper body. He bows his head slightly at Rayne then at Rooke and leans in close to Rooke, "Excuse me, miss. Is your card full? If not, I'd love to have the pleasure of a dance."
Rooke looked about to drift off to the punchbowl, but now stares at this enterprising fellow with a slightly opened mouth. "My card..." she begins, and quirks a brow at Rayne. "Oh! I mean, it isn't. And.. you may," she falters into agreement, lifting her hand to the man. She glances at the swirling skirts of the swinging folk, and decides to not mention the fact that she's not wearing tights to this guy. Her skirt won't flare up that high, anyway.
Marayla DiMeglio and her gentlebeing part ways about half-way through so Marayla can leave the dancefloor to catch her breath and rest her feet a bit. The woman finds a spot of wall somehow, and leans against it, eyelids drifting mostly closed. But even if she won't join the dancing, she can watch it.
Rayne gathers up her cloak of bravery and wanders through the crowd looking for a sucker who's liable to risk bruised toes just to be in her company.
Rooke keeps her eyes level with the man, letting go of herself enough to let him lead her through the steps. It takes a minute or so, but it seems she's naturally adept at picking up the subtle nuances of the twists, spins, and weaves. What she can't figure out, she adlibs, using the catchy beat as her guide. After a few rounds, she's actually laughing, utterly pleased by the whirling steps of the jive.
Rayne grins mischeiviously as she corners her prey - a sweet looking boy of about 16 who nearly drools as Rayne hovers over him shamelessly flirting with this much younger man.
Gareth enters the hall from the lobby.
Gareth's Costume Desc
A very odd looking mixture of dress covers this large near 8 ft. tall human's body. Large bulging muscles threaten to rip and burst through the fake 18th century Europe finery. This may be due to the rather quick looking tailoring job that looks to have been done on a very stiff budget. A pair of black dapper shoes cover his large feet, a set of long white stockings traveling from them and ending just above the knees. An outlandish looking set of sparkly tan trousers pick up where the socks have left off and are tucked somewhat inexpertly into his stockings. On his upper torso he wears a white shirt with frills starting midchest and culminating into a very white scarf that wraps around his throat. The jacket worn over this aristocratic ensemble is a close match to the trousers but is noticeably...not. It is ill fitting and appears a bit too tight. A set of frills explode out around his white gloved hands.
Perhaps one of the most ridiculous looking parts of his dress are his dredlocks spilling out and around a big white wig that looks like it barely survived a tornado. A close second would be the amateur looking attempt to add makeup to his face. Bright rosey cheeks have been applied and a small amount of red lipstick has been dabbed on the tips of his lips. To complete his almost pimpish look, a mundane looking cane is held in the crook of his left arm, the hand holding a black mask on the end of a stick. At a distance, and ignoring the fact that he's black, the appearance of an 18th century aristocrat could be pulled off. Close inspection however will dissolve most of it's charm and perhaps instill great humor or horror.Rayne tries hard to pour the charm on with the young man she's speaking to. She's laughing a little too loud and pushing in a little too close, though, and the poor kid just doesn't know how to handle it. Eventually, he finds a reason to bolt and does so. Fast.
Rooke is flung out on the outstretched arm of a bronzed young man wearing a toga, when she happens to glance over at the entrance to the room. What she sees floors her out of the dizzy spell she was under. With a stumble, she ends her dance, and stares. Her partner looks puzzled, and inquires after her, not noticing Gareth's entrance himself.
Gareth holds his mask up over his eyes and walks in with cane in hand. It smacks against the flooring in a very unappropriate fashion as he moves about. He seems more than a little tentative in just bursting in and making himself noticed as would be characteristic of him in normal circumstances. It is very much the opposite as he tests the waters so to speak, not doing anything too flagrant as of yet. Maybe after a trip to the punchbowl.
K9-GD-147 enters the hall from the lobby.
K9-GD-147 steps inside, ears flattening to her head for a moment at the bustle and noise of the hall. As usual she towers over most in the room making it very obvious that she is a real dogboy, and not somone wearing a very good costume.
Rayne stares after the young man she's just scared away and heaves a big, disappointed sigh. Instead of trying to search for new prey, she just slumps there, arms crossed over her ample bosom.
Rooke retreats to the sidelines again after apologizing to her new friend, a dashing man in a toga. After glancing towards the banquet hall entrance again, this time doing another double take, she moves to get some punch. Seeing Rayne, she lifts a glass questioningly to the woman, raising her eyebrows, which promptly disappear under her askew hat.
Gareth looks about the interior of the room, which takes more than a simple glance to do. The masses of people that have shown up are a bit too much at first and he certainly can't make any familiar people due to costumes and quick glances. After his survey he plods over to the long table cover with a white cloth and decorated with ballons and ribbons. After listening to the welcoming instructions he tugs off one of his gloves and gets stamped. Not long afterwards he is handed one of the dance cards. He oogles the item for quite awhile before getting the heck out of the way for other people.
The gangster guard at the door clears his throat and pokes K9 tentatively in the elbow, inquiring as to whether she's turned in her weaponry at the checking counter in the hall.
K9-GD-147 turns and gives an offhanded *buzz off* grunt to the goon at the door. Motioning briefly to the empty holsters on her belt and leg, then turns and steps further into the room as her senses become acustomed to the sights sounds and smells of the new environment.
Rayne hums along to the tune that's playing, cos she doesn't know the words. She scans the room, smiling on occasion at one face or another, though only in that "I'm smiling so I don't look like a complete dolt wallflower" way, not as if she really recognizes anyone. She sighs heavily then decides she'll head for the punchbowl in hopes of some action there.
Rooke shows Rayne some mundane punch pouring action, by golly. She tells the other woman breathlessly, "That guy's good. He asked about you," she adds diffidently, setting a cup near Rayne's elbow, never dreaming that Rayne might be the type to spill on herself. Taking a sip from her own cup, she looks off to the other end of the hall again. "....gods.. that's Gareth all right." She winces as she looks him over again through gaps in the crowd.
Gareth just so happens to be thinking that a stiff drink will help things along greatly. As a result he immediately heads towards the free grub after figuring out that he can loop the dance card around one of his wrists. He smacks his cane against the ground while briefly checking out what the blokes are wearing, but paying much more attention to what the femmes are wearing. Some of the styles utterly amaze him and wonder just what those people were thinking. Some people must just scream for attention or something he thinks. He wrinkles his powdered nose and tries to remember the extremely small amount of knowledge he picked up about the era he was trying to emulate. He closes in on the punchbowl and resists the urge to lick his lips.
Rayne squints and follows Rooke's gaze. "Gareth who? Do I know him?" she shakes her head, no. "He's very buff. Is he a nice guy?" she reaches for the cup of punch and several (okay, half the stack) of napkins, just in case.
K9-GD-147 plods around the room for a while, ignoring the offer of a dance card if it's made. The usual vacant look in her eyes replaced by slight confusion as to exactly what the heck is going on around here as she's not accustomed to seeing groups of people this large dressed so outlandishly.
The DJ announces over the last blaring bits of the Big Band Swing, "Awright! You kids were smokin' out there.. that was 'Killer Diller' by the 'Benny Goodman Orchestra'.. we were lucky to get this copy on loan from the New Lazlo archives. Next, we'll be playing a slow one, maybe you'll recognize the 'remake' done by Tolkeen's own Tortoise Shell." With a thump of static, the reedy tones of 'Moon River', orchestra and vocals, comes over the speakers.
Rooke umms, and ahems, having to think on that question, it seems. "Yeah, he's all right. He runs.. er.. ran a gym over on the west side." She pauses, takes another sip, and looks past the large man towards the wandering Dogboy. "....oh...dear.. uh.. I'll introduce you guys... he looks ridiculous.. but don't tell him that!" she adds hastily, before raising a hand and waving at Gareth.
Gareth trundles his way on over to the table with the biggest punchbowl he can see. Of course, Rooke and her waving is enough to distract him momentarily. He squints, pawing and maneuvering around a few costumed individuals as he peers over. At first he considers that the young woman is waving over someone else...and he looks behind himself for a moment. That is when he spots K9 over near the entrance where he just came in. The fact that she isn't wearing a costume isn't the thing that really surprises him either. It's the fact that she's here. He hopes no one steps on her toes as he turns back to the young woman whom was waving. He tromps over, nearly dismembering another party goer's ankle with his cane as makes his way up to Rooke. He takes pains to keep the mask up over his face. He'll never be recognised in this mess of living beings after all.
It takes a second to register what Rooke said, but when it sinks in Rayne plays the "primp and powder" game really quickly, patting her hair in place and straightening her skirt. She puts on a pretty smile for this Gareth person, trying to work up as much charm as she can muster before he arrives at the table.
K9-GD-147 looks about again, wincing a little at the static on the speakers as the song changes. Noting the aromas of food over the other scents after a bit she turns her attention towards the tables and starts over, weaving her way through the other party-goers.
Rooke smiles big, and reaches out to grip the taut fabric of Gareth's bulging elbow. "Hey.. I mean, good evening, sir," she greets, dropping into her 'role' but not quite satisfying it due to the need to shout to be heard. "I want you to meet Mis-.. er, Missu.. er, Rayne. Good friend.. knew her since before the war. Rayne.. Gareth Vaughn.." She pauses. "Gareth, are you... royalty?"
<<OOC>> Rayne says, "Okay charm/impress don't let me down...."
<<DICE>> Rayne rolls 1d100 and gets 18.
Gareth seems quite floored. Was his costume not as crafty as that shifty tailor promised? Someone will have to visited after the ball if many more people are able to peel back the layers of his ingenious costume. He puckers his lips and his mask drops a little, one beady eye is revealed along with the patch for the other. "Aye?...Gud eve-nin, S'tr...Mee-lad'a." He sniffs, flaring his nostrils. He looks over towards Rayne and even throws in a slight and altogether stiff bow at the waist. His wig jostles a tad. "I be a fat cat. An ar-ees-to-krat with tons'o money'n whatnot."
Rayne tilts her head slightly to the side, the light catching in her eyes making them sparkle *just* right. She smiles, then with grace and poise surprising to even Rayne, she sets her glass on the nearby table and extends a delicate hand, "Good eve to you, Lord Gareth. It is indeed a pleasure to make your aquaintance."
K9-GD-147 stops as she reachs the tables and picks up an entire platter of finger sandwhichs and turns to walk back out into the room. Occassionaly popping one of the small morsels into her jaws. Eventualy she gets tired to walking about and moves towards a table near one corner to take a seat.
Rooke glances to the side at Rayne admiringly, not having been witness to any truly awkward Rayne moments herself. Gareth's speech and allover look have her grinning helplessly, and she excuses herself with a murmured apology - something about grabbing something to eat before she faints. With that, she brushes away, looking around for K9.
Gareth thinks frantically for the appropriate response and settles for the less smarmy reactions that he's seen on the TV. He reaches out for Rayne's extended hand and bends forward to place a kiss about an inch away from the top of rayne's hand. No need to smear his small amount of lipstick and look like a clown, no sir. He notes Rooke's departure and does not clue in to the possible reason for her exit. He murmers to Rayne. "Aye...'tis. My my...yer fine fine dress is all very purrty. Wud ya like ta take't fer a spin?"
K9-GD-147 simply sits now out of the flow of traffic, watching the gawdy-dressed patrons move and dance about, occassionaly snacking on the plate of sandwhichs she's carried over with her.
Ray\ne literally beams, "I would absolutely /love/ to dance." She steps forward and gently places her tiny hand on Gareth's immense arm and uses her other hand to grasp at her long skirts.
Good thing Rooke left before Gareth could continue his spiel, or she'd be on the floor, rolling helplessly. Instead, she moves past the food tables and arcs around to the tables set-up gaze easily spotting the large mutant dog. As she closes in, however, her pace stutters to a halt, and a bewildered look comes over her face as she mutters, "...what the hell am I thinking...?"
Not a bad start to the evening. A lavish and attractive woman on one arm and looking damn regal to boot. Whatever Gareth is feeling about himself and the way he looks must come from an unmarked carton of rolled cigarette like things. Of course, the more probable explanation is a little too weird, and that is that he actually thinks he's king of the world. He nods to Rayne, his mouth almost splitting his face wide open with a toothy grin. Almost forgetting his limited amount of manners he tries to control his emotions and usher the attractive young woman out onto the dance floor. He comments, "Yew gud gud friends with Rookie?"
Smiles enters the hall from the lobby.
Smiles slowly hobbles in at the rear end of pack of about 6 incessantly chattering students, some of them wearing the cheapest, saddest costumes this side of a Marylin Manson concert. He's working to keep up, but nobody seems to be paying to much attention to him or his plight except for one girl in a folded paper hat and the rags of an old time newspaper man, who occasionally calls something derisive over her shoulder at him. He's too busy trying to stay standing to snap back at her. Some of the kids' costumes are alright-the fireman and the cowboy are okay, and the ballerina is at least a decent attempt, despite the cellulite. But one heavyset kid has himself all dressed up as a knight, his armor fashioned from a couple pieces of scrap metal and poorly painted cardboard, and the girl dressed as a paper mache spulgorth slaver clearly just missed the whole point.Smiles' Costume Desc
Smiles is a pale young man, perhaps in his early twenties. His face is long and narrow with high cheekbones that emphasize eyes that seem just a little too small. Still, his blue eyes are really his most redeeming quality--they sparkle with intelligence, and his smile is charming, at least enough to stand out from his other nondescript features. He stands just less than six feet, but weighs perhaps 145 pounds-a thin and gangly man indeed. This should go particularly well with his intended costume, although recent events have served to well, modify that.
Smiles is wearing oversized cargo pants torn on the right thigh, and an old tie-dye tee-shirt with "Phish" written upon it in faded purple lettering. On his feet he wears brown leather sandals, the faded leather in stark contrast to the whiteness of his feet. A cheap wig of five foot dreds droops rather pathetically on his head, and a largish splif is tucked behind his right ear.
Sadly, Smiles is not in the best of shapes. He limps hard on his right leg, bracing himself on one of those idiotic aluminum four legged hospital canes. He blushes whenever anyone stares at the largish bandage on head-and that happens a lot; it partially covers one eye, which causes the red, circular sunglasses to balance in a rather, um, awkward fashion. Sometimes gravity causes them not to balance at all. The sickly fellow is even more pale than usual, and a flight of stairs causes him to breathe heavily.K9-GD-147 simply sits quietly, content to keep her attention on the snacks she's gathered and watching the occupants make fools of themselves. Although why they're in such strange clothing is still a matter of confusion
Rayne steps onto the dance floor, trying hard not to step on Gareth's feet (or to get stepped on for that matter.) After figuring out something of a dance pattern (face it, these two are not dance partners made in heaven) she manages to answer his question, "Um, yes, Rooke and I have known each other for a long time. She's always been very kind to me." Rayne looks up into the giant powdered face and beams again, obviously quite pleased at having a dance partner, "So, tell me about yourself. You used to own a gym?"
The dancing is in full swing tonight, the main lights off with the clustered 'grape' chandeliers sparkling drifting lights along the polished floor. Individual lanterns are lit at each table, where guests sit and chat while they observe the movements of the floor. A reedy orchestral-vocal song to the tune of Moon River courses over the sound system, and eager dancers have rushed the floor to demonstrate their skills in what is quite a danceable, neutral song compared to the ones recently played.
Rooke appears to have been approaching K9, but she checks herself a couple of meters away, pondering the wisdom of her actions. What was that saying..? Let snacking Dogboys lie.. er, eat?
Gareth falls into step with Rayne, albeit awkwardly as already stated. His attention seems to be devoted to his feet and his partners about half of the time. Rythmn he can do, elaborate movements are another matter altogther, and not attempted as of yet. He nods and smiles broadly again. "Tha 'is true. I owns a gym 'oup inna northwest qua-drant 'o town. A bloody fine fine place, S'truth." He clears his throat roughly and tries to refrain from the cursing. "Still own't. But there be sum trubbles...with blokes." He sighs and adds, changing topics rapidly, "I must say me eve'nins ru-ined now...I be danc'n with tha purrty-est femme first. Bad luck." He winks.
Smiles stands near the entryway bracing himself heavily upon his hospital cane. Almost immediately his compatriots scatter in twos and threes--most of them obviously trying to get as far away as from the paper spluggie as possible. She trundles after the fireman, calling something muffled through the mask. Smiles pretends he doesn't know them and takes in the room, hoping to find some nice place to curl up and die for a while. Preferably after finding the booze.
K9-GD-147 simply sits quietly, if she's notices rooke's approach she's made no move to show she has. content to keep quiet and watch the spectecle.
A deep flush fills Rayne's cheeks and she casts her eyes down to her own feet for a moment before cranning her neck back upward to gaze at Gareth, "You are too kind. I understand trouble with... blokes..." she uses the word awkwardly then shrugs, an odd thing to do in the middle of a slow dance. "I used to own the Hanged Man, just north of the Succubus? Well, not anymore. Someday I'll get it back though." She says this last with a grim determination that sounds almost like a threat, rather than a promise, but then quickly covers the gloomy conversation with a bright smile as she moves in just a little closer to her dance partner.
Rooke scratches a bit of the itchy powder makeup over the bridge of her nose, flaking bits off to reveal darker complexioned skin underneath. She glances over at the hall entrance again while she stalls for time, and has to devote a whole twenty seconds in staring at the assortment of costumes that just came through. The Splugorth Girl gets a special look, and Rooke mutters, "...gods.." with a shake of her head. The man on the crutch has her wondering, "What the heck's that supposed to represent..?" before she goes back to pondering the back of K9's head. Finally, she just wanders over and takes a seat nearby.
Smiles begins to pick his way through the pirates, samurai, and yogi-bears towards the registration table. He has a tough time of it--the crowded, booming hall makes it tough to keep from being jostled, and being jostled is not exactly what he needs right now. After some minutes of arduous journeying, he finally finds himself infront of the desk. A middle aged woman speaks with him..."What're you supposed to be?" She asks pointedly.
He looks her square in the face with his one good eye. "I'm a 20th century academy student who just got hit by a bus. What does it look like?"
She considers this for moment then points at his ear. "Zat real?"
He looks cautiously at her. "Maybe. Why?"
She leans over towards him. "Maybe later we could go outside and light it up. Huh?"
Smiles takes his dance card and makes haste for the bar.
Gareth's steps become a bit more confident, a very tiny amount of grace added as he uses some natural dexterity to offset his lack of knowledge regarding slow dancing. He looks down at his dance party and offers as warm a smile as he can manage. "Aye. Tha's the spir-it. Yew cud prubbly charm it outta tha own'as 'ands, S'truth." He too tries to get a bit closer to Rayne, sneaking a lecherous peek down at her body from his elevated viewpoint. "Play yer cards right, flash yer pearly whites'n they be back'n duwn'r dribbl'n goopies at yer feet. I rally gots to 'ang around Rookie more of-ten if yew be gud friends." He chortles.
K9-GD-147 consumes the last of the sandwhichs on the plate she had in front of her. Looking around again to turnher attions to the refreshment tables once more, apparently pondering her next course.
Rooke takes the opportunity of a break to adjust the hat back on her head, repinning it carefully. She glances over at K9 with a slight smile, but seems unsure of how to break the ice with this strange, silent creature. Brow furrowed, she glances away to seek out Rayne and Gareth... that should take her mind off things.
Rayne's forte is definitely not dancing, but she keeps fair pace with Gareth, simply following his lead. (What other choice does she have, without getting squished?) At one point during the dance she slides her hand along the length of her arm and shivers, then blushes yet another deep shade of red, mumbling an appology, "Sorry, I... just haven't ever been with, er... danced with anyone so strong." She turns her eyes to something - anything - else in shy embarassment.
Smiles manages to battle his way past a 300 pound Marylin Monroe, Richard the Third, Aristotle, and 3 spice girls, and finally finds himself at the bar, where he quietly orders his drink. The bartender reaches for a wine glass, but Smiles shakes his head and points at the water goblet. Give him a break-he's had rough day. The bartender grudgingly takes the larger vessel and pours tries to poor a reasonable amount into the glass. Smiles will have none of it. After a short discussion and an extra cred or two, the bartender finally fills the rest of the glass. He's about to take a sip when good old spluggie bumps him from behind, knocking him off his cane and on to the floor. Smiles, however, has his priorities straight and keeps the glass upright. Now if he could only get his body that way...Tenrai's Costume Desc
She stands an absolutely whopping 5'1", with a supple, powerful frame, concealed in a white short sleeved shirt and a blue pleated skirt of ankle length. Her legs, though long, are fairly heavily toned, her shoulders fairly broad. An Asian, indeed, as is hinted, not only by her skin, but my most of her facial structure, save the large amber eyes that lean quite heavily toward those of a cat. Her mouth is set with glossed black lips that expose a set of sharpened canines when she smiles. Emerging from her mane of silk fine onyx hair is a pair of pointed furry ears that perch turretlike upon her head, long locks of ivory silk flow from where a human's ears would be, each clipped with a barrette with a yellow circular smiley face attached. What jewelry she has consists of four metal rings on her right hand, each of a different color. Her nails, both finger and toe, are pointed onyx, though her feet are kept warm by a pair of white calf length socks and black flats that buckle around her ankles. Emerging from beneath the blue collar of her shirt is a small red scarf. Her hands clasp a small black knapsack before her.K9-GD-147 turns her gaze to the patrons again, and somthing seems to click in the vacant muddy-brown pools of her eyes "ah.. I's understanding now... ever one in disguises... making beleives..." she stands quickly and makes her way towards the door... apparently having an idea.
Tenrai is, on the contrary, just entering from the door and her shyly curious exploration og the local festive trends coming to a quite abrupt halt as a rather large....canine comes striding her way. There's something familiar about this one, though and she raises a hand and waves, "Ohayo, Kay-nin-sama!"
If she's pumping up the big lug's ego it's definitely working. Gareth lets that broad and somewhat smarmy smile creep it's way all over his face. He murmers lowly, "Aye? Yew gots ta be kidden me..or pull'n me yarn." He continues to dance about offering a soft pat-pat to Rayne and confides. "I bet there be strong young blokes that've give'n ya a spin atta club'r sumpthin...But, I do be mighty con-cerned 'bout keep'n in shape." And probably has a full length mirror to admire himself in at home.
K9-GD-147 nods to Tenrai as she moves past here out the door "I's being back in a minute... needing disguise"
Rooke stands up herself, failing to make contact with the Dogboy, but none the worse for wear. She looks 'round, again while she heads back towards the food and drink, this time determined to taste-test some of the finger foods. The sprawled man gets little notice as she cranes her head to see past a short creature in a white, jewel-studded suit, and a horrible pompadour haircut.
The newspaper girl points and laughs at Smiles...God how he hates that girl. She comes over and gently kicks the back of his neck. He pulls himself up onto the cane--slowly--then ponders his next move. The glass in his hand is the obvious answer. He definitely needs a drink. After a largish gulp he moves back into the crowd--once more unto the breach--and looks for potential seating. Newsie skips along behind him, various chipper, unflattering remarks issuing regularly from her mouth.
Tenrai nimbly slips out of the dog girl(?)'s path and blinks once. Her confusion lasting but a moment before she skips just a few steps, toward the crowds.
Rayne decides to maintain the flirty banter between her and Gareth. She slowly licks her lips and then says carefully, "You know, it's very obvious that you take care of your body. I'll bet your girlfriend is very appreciative." She casually glances off elsewhere, trying to play coy.
K9-GD-147 returns to the room, at least it might be her.. concealed under one of the hotel's lobby curtains.
The wistful strains of 'Moon River' draw to a close, and the DJ barely makes it back from the buffet spread to announce the titled song, once again mentioning the popular cover done by present day Tortoise Shell. "Ye-ahh," he drawls over the speakers. "Always romantic, that one. I'm moving onto an era that I've been told was called.. 'Disco'. Now, don't anybody get scair't, it's an acquired taste, I'm told." With a small *thump*, something suspiciously Andy Gibb comes on over the speakers.K9-GD-147's Costume Desc
Standing at nearly 8ft in height 147 is a massive canine/Humanoid. Obviously a canine of the Great Dane breed thin white scars are occassionaly seen in the short brownish/tan fur. Easily 4ft at the shoulder the torso's curves show the form is obviously female. Her muzzle is broad and squared with slight jowls on either side and large ears twitch occassionaly, although the Muddy brown eyes carry an occassionaly vacant stare to them. Her build is solid to say the least, muscles ripple with every motion and the heavy footfalls as she moves.
At the moment the majority of K9's form is obscured by a large white curtain draped over her. Her ears stick out from a pair of holes in the top and her eyes show through 2 more holes. The brass rings and drawstrings still attached to the curtain suggests that it probably came from the Hotel lobby.Gareth produces a deep rumbling chortle from deep inside his belly. He nods along and thinks, if only everyone could be so perceptive and have such good tastes. "Aye...well, if'n I 'ad a steady femme I'm sure she'd say jus't tha, S'truth. Yew prubbly dun't 'ave tha prubb'lm..uh, mee-lady, but a bloke 'as a 'ard time find'n an a-prec-iative femme very eas-ily these days." He stops dancing and cranes his head to look over towards the DJ. "Whut'tha...Jus't get'n tha 'ang'o that ditty."
Rayne's gaze moves to the odd form that just entered (reentered?) the room as the music comes to an abrupt change. Her eyes go wide and she slaps a hand over her mouth to stiffle a giggle. After a moment of trying to compose herself, she glances at Gareth and points to the white curtained figure and mumbles, "Do you see what I see?"
Smiles winces with pain every time Elvis or the Marquis de Sade or Einstein or Jughead bumps him. And they all seem to--he's like a collision magnet. But he finally looses his cool when the reptilian d-bee sumo wrestler sideswipes him. Of course, the newspaper girl finds all this to be truly hysterical. Her sixteen year old attempt at witty banter is met with increasing silent irritation from Smiles who really just wants a drink and a nap. Eventually, he turns to her. "I want you to listen to me Tamra, you obnoxious little brat--you're going to take your idiotic witicisms and your dumpster costume and the sad cretins you call friends and you're gonna leave me the hell alone. You got that?"
Tenrai's ears twitch as, once again, she hears the voice of one of her 'friends' raised in something less than good cheer. She frowns slightly and starts weaving her way through the revelers toward the direction of Smile's voice.
Gareth turns to look over in the direction Rayne directs his attention to. He squints his one good eye to get a better look. He scowls and then chortles raggedly. "Aye...Tha's tha...biggest ghostie I ever bloody seen." He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head in disbelief.
Hiro enters the concert hall, looking very un-Hiro like. His build is slightly different; a bit larger and more muscular, while his face is completely different; that of a clean-shaven, crew-cut caucasian male, wearing a stern, almost emotionless look on his dull-colored face. He enters quietly, trying to go unnoticed, absent of his gun belt and rucksack. He moves swiftly to the left side of the door and stands there, like a stony-faced guard, with his hands behind his back. It seems as if only his eyes move across the banquet hall, searching for his quarry.
Rayne sniffs rudely, "Ghosts don't look like /that/.
K9-GD-147 steps further into the room again, apparently oblivious to how utterly ridiculas she looks. The curtain rings still attached to the hastily-made costume jiggle softly as her heavy footfalls thud along.
Rooke looks askance at Smiles as he emerges upwards from the cluster around the bar, and moves off, seemingly followed by groupies. He wasn't just... breakdancing just now.. was he? Not that Rooke would particularly recognize such a maneuver.. but in the course of watching him, she is treated to the sight of a large phantom drifting in. The size.. the ears... could it be... "Punch.. something in the punch.." she murmurs weakly, and totters away.
Rayne watches the dancers around her boogy down and she looks helplessly at Gareth, "Thank you for the dance, handsome sir, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to keep up with this." She offers a small curtsy then wanders off of the dance floor.
Well stop the presses--something finally got to Tamra. She stops her skipping; the commentary dies on her tongue. Smiles just stands there, open mouthed, too shocked to react as he watches her lower lip quiver. She wipes at her eye, then turns on her heal, and is off to go find the cowboy. "Oh Tamra...dammit." Smiles comments glumly. Smiles takes another drink.
Tenrai, in her well intending wanderings, inadvertantly places herself into the path of the tottering woman, coming to a halt as she tiptoes and leans this way and that to try and find her friend through the field of.... *Gr* much taller people.
Gareth is all too suddenly devoid of a dance partner while he listens to the Disco style start up from the speakers. Not a little disappointment he considers his options. While it isn't exactly his type of tune, the beat and rythmn are awfully similar to some of the rehashed stuff he's head over the airwaves. He nods his head and taps his foot along to the bass in the music, his white wig wobbling a bit back and forth on his noggin.
K9-GD-147 heads towards the refreshment tables again. A drawstring chord still dragging along the floor behind her.
Rayne goes to the food table and idley picks at some of the much picked over appetizers. Nothing appeals to her and she confides to one of the other grazers that she's pretty sure she shouldn't eat anything for fear of popping out of the dress. She nibbles, anyhow.
Rayne rolls her eyes and sighs heavily as the large, um, ghost canine? approaches. "Looks like this is up to me." With some trepedation Rayne approaches the doggirl and says, "Excuse me? Your costume is... well, um... interesting, definitely. It... well..." she pauses, then grabs some food off of the table and hands it to the massive dog creature, "It's loose in the back. Let me help you?"
K9-GD-147 approachs the tables again, fumbling with the curtain she's been wearing to get one hand free to snag a handfull of small crackers from one of the bowls.. the sounds of munching and crunching are heard under the curtain for a few moments before her ears perk at the sound of Rayne's voice. Turning a little she looks behind her seeing the cord. "oops... though I's tied that off... thanks you"
Rayne fidgets nervously, "No, um, I mean... really. Please? Let me help you."
K9-GD-147 nods slowly and waits to see what Rayne is going to do.
Rooke looks for Gareth in the sea of dancing bodies, nibbling on a cracker smothered with cheez spread. She sees his bobbling wig towering above the masses, and pushes her way onto the dancefloor, trying to reach the man. Along the way, she finds herself in mysterious poses, jutting a finger at the ceiling, wiggling her shoulders, and doing the two-forward, two-back, chow-chow-chow step, all in the name of fitting in. "Gareth!" she finally gets close enough to yelp.
Tenrai yelps and almost hops out of her outfit as the woman with the cracker belts out a call of 'Gareth'. Her bag hits the floor and almost imediately gets stepped on and punted around.
Rayne wipes her hands on a napkin then inspects the costume situation for a moment. An idea sparks in her mind as she's reminded of an earlier costume, "You know... you've got the makings for a true Roman Goddess. I know /all/ about goddesses." Her smile is absolutely dazzling as the idea starts to formulate. She tugs at the curtain, pulling it off the poor girl's head and around and over a shoulder, then twisted here and around her there... within minutes the ghost outfit has been transformed into a rather stylish toga. Rayne's not done yet, though. She reaches over and fidgets and fusses with some of the fruit garnish on the table and manages to fashion a reasonable garland headpiece. Well, okay, reasonable might be an exageration, but it's much better than the ghost getup. "There... you look gorgeous. The masses will fall to your feet in worship!"
Gareth is in the process of starting to get his pelvis gyrating along with the beat when Rooke's voice finds it's way near an ear. He twists about to peer in it's direction, spying the young costumed woman in the sea of...other costumed people. He raises his hands up to wave about like a sailor being tossed about in a stormy sea. He bellows, "Aye!" He starts getting a little too funky and nearly elbows a few people that risk being in close proximity.
K9-GD-147 kneels as Rayne begins to fidget with the costume so she has room to reach everything she needs to. It's obvious from the curtain's removal that she's still wearing her body-armor under the curtain but makes no move to remove any of it, simply letting rayne perform her alterations. Her ears twitch slight as the garland is placed on her head and she stands slowly again "I thanks you... I's not very good at these things...."
Rooke cups a hand to her mouth as her voice carries farther than she expected. Fetching up against Gareth, she moves unwillingly with the press of the clumsy disco dancers as she points over towards K9, almost getting her arm lopped off by a flailing musketeer poinard. "You know she's here, right? Well look at what she's wearing... now?" She shuts her mouth with a snap when the dancefloor parts enough to reveal a more elegantly attired Dog Girl. "Uh..."
Rayne offers a kind smile to the canine, "You look so beautiful. I'm glad I could be of some help." and with that, she grabs up one of the finger sandwiches and shoves the whole thing in her mouth, having worked up a grand appetite.
Gareth frowns and manages to make out most of what Rooke is trying to get across. He peers about, his height helping matters but the sheer number of bodies making things difficult. Of course, Rooke's gesturing help immensely..as to the temporary unimpeded look towards K9. His eye widens and his jaw unhinges a tad when he views K9's altogether much more creative look. Funny, he didn't even have any of that crazy punch yet.
Hiro moves from his frozen position, into the midsts of the crowd. Occasionally, throughout his wanderings, he stops someone in their frenzy of dancing to ask them a simple question: "I'm looking for a catwoman by the name of Tenrai. Have you seen her?"
Smiles cuts his way past the Statue of Liberty, Richard Simmons, Macolm X, and Boba Fett (an interesting notion of history indeed) towards a table on the side. He seems down, now--not that he was cheery before. Still, the constant throbbing in his leg doesn't seem quite so important with the friend gone. Well, maybe it isn't all bad...
In the half-light by the dance floor, it's colors spashing about the hall in time with the disco beat, Smiles sips the wine and gazes out at the dance floor at all the happy, non-smooshed people with all their limbs intact. He rests his hand lightly on the cane.
K9-GD-147 stands again, trying not to move to quickly so the garland stays on her head "Again thanks you... I K9-GD-147... pleaseing to meet you." she smiles, more a baring of large teeth than anything else but hopefully the point is made that she's in a good mood.
Rayne swollows her mouthful of food then asks K9-GD-147, "Canine what?"
Tenrai, famous, at least marginally, now due to her waitressing at the casino is amongst the revelers, finally resinging at finding Roland-san and decides to start getting down with her kitty self. The knapsack only held somescorced and tattered leaflets she found in the streets, anyway, and can afford to leave it to it's fate. Hopefully someone will find a good use for it. She starts to serpentine and two-step amongst the crowd, an easy smile reaching her lips as she moves from dance partner to dance partner. Quick learner, ne?
K9-GD-147 looks back down towards Rayne again "K9-GD-147"
Rooke jostles against Gareth, and grits her teeth as she finds a rip in the side of her blouse. "Oh for.. oh nevermind!" She stalks off the dance floor, no longer interested in posturing along with the twits. Heading past the tables, she brushes past Smiles with an absent, "Good show.."
A smile covers up the fact that Rayne hasn't a clue what a Jeedee 147 is. Instead she just says, "Well, nice to meet you. Enjoy the party," and makes her escape into the crowd.
Hiro finally spots Tenrai, moving faster than Ebola through dance partners (guffaw :P). He begins elbowing his way through the crowd, getting a few angry glares and 'What gives's as he makes his way to the catwoman.
Rayne casts one last glance around the room, without luck of finding what she's been looking for all night. She heads toward the exit, offering a quick wave to Gareth and one for Rooke on her way out.
Well this simply won't do. Gareth's amazing body movements should be attracting hordes, nay armies of young nubile females from all over...or so he thinks at least. Rooke's departure signals that perhaps he should wait for some good pit music to start up his postulating and gyrating. He frowns and manuvers his way past the throng of dancers in pursuit of the costumed Rooke. Maybe a short detour at the punchbowl first...Maybe more than one. Off he goes with a swaggering aristocratic attitude in his step and his cane to help usher people aside politely.
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