A gala for serendipity.

[odium.]

By the time he approached the podium, it was well into the night. There was the clamor of conversation and footsteps as students conversed and danced the night away. Teachers and other chaperone's lined the walls, though their demeanor was far more social than anything, sharing drinks and talking amongst themselves. The entire hall was lined with lights, and the ceiling was done up as to mimic a starry night.

He leaned over, placing a hand on either side of the podium, before speaking into the microphone.

"Hello. . . hello, students and staff.

"I hope you're all enjoying yourselves on this wonderful evening. My name, as some of you may already know, is Jude Maxwell. I am the new headmaster of the Gaian Academy; it was my wish to welcome you all this year with joyous festivities and the promise of a higher education starting this semester.

"However, I must digress. Tonight is not the time to talk of such things, we are here to have a good time, afterall."

Reaching out, he seized a wine glass by the stem, raising it high into the air. Remaining silent for a moment, the man in the pinstriped suit swirled the contents of the crystalware before proposing a toast.

"To tonight, may we look forward to a new dawn over the horizon."

Drawing the mouth of the glass to his own, the new headmaster took a sip before stepping back from the podium and out of the spotlight. Shadow engulfed his form, and before long everyone's attention was returned to their previous musings. Jude turned to face another teacher, and with a warm smile, he nodded a hello before giving a wave.

[|°ὺ₯₳ↄĸJONES]

The first shot of the night was washed down just moments after the proposal of a grand toast. Justice's face— still beautiful yet stoic —barely winced as the fluid gradually burned holes in his esophagus and stomach. The scent of spiced rum tickled his nasal causing his nostrils to flare erratically from time to time. "Cheers" He mumbled while raising the shot glass,keeping the rim of his pint near when the contents grew low; seldom was it ever concealed within the inner pockets of the overcoat he was so fond of.

Parleying by the buffet was one of many tactics the Renovatian recalled as a teen. His positioning allowed him to flawlessly execute the spiking of the punch and whatnot. It also was a hot spot for ladies, and as the thought of finding the sexiest woman with toe nails manifested, the wafting aroma of a sweet and sophisticated perfume stole the headmaster's show (attention deficit disorder.) Matured rum wasn't one so easily trounced but the lingering scent of a mature lady compelled Justice to search high and low; damn near breaking his neck.

Justice's desperate search only brought about frustration as the crowd seemed to thicken, congesting his little chill spot. Shoulders were bumped and his shoes were being trampled. Slight maneuvers to avoid contact only seemed to worsen the situation, to the point Justice just gave up and started drinking from the bottle. No longer of any significant use, the shot glass was chucked at the nape of an adolescent, the last to step on his foot.

Attending this little jamboree was beginning to feel like a bad idea.

"Oh I'm definitely taking my anger out on some lucky lady tonight."

[Faustus]

Continued from: Freshman Year - 2011

Donovan showed up about a quarter past twilight, knocking steadily at her door. It didn't dawn on him that the new girl might have a tough time finding her way across the expansive campus and, timid little thing she was, was likely loath to ask for directions. And so he rushed to the girls' dormitory. The rain ceased shortly before the festivities began, a transparent dome coming to cover the campus grounds as silent as the night that crept upon them. In a matter of moments the grounds themselves were dry, mud turned to dry dirt and dew laden grass now vibrant and alive under the starlight.

The young man did not dress formally, but seemed to favor the conservative side. He wore subtle colors. Shades of black, gray and silver trim with white flourish that made him at once a background image and a prominent figure. When Syrica opened the door, Donovan snatched her hand by the ankle and immediately began to lead her towards the great hall at a hurried pace.

On the way there Syrica's analytical mind might notice the difference in his gait, a certain surety that it lacked before, that his steps were no longer executions of precise measurement but rather skidded along the ground with confidence of what lay ahead. Even as her mind formed the dim picture of awareness, Donovan spoke out without once slowing down but he was mindful enough to toss a glance behind his shoulder to gauge her reaction.

"Also I'm not blind. I know I never said I was but I certainly played a game up like I couldn't see a darn thing. It started off as a joke and then I kind of forgot about it when I started thinking about the gala, and gee I could see how pretty you were and I'm sorry Syrica, I really am. I promise, I won't play jokes on you ever again.

"Well . . . at least not jokes like that."

Through the massive double doors, down the marble hallways, "One thing you'll learn is that the Gaians love stonework", and through another set of doors that led them into a tremendous room. Gaiety abound. Lurid decorations, a fabulous spread of diverse and delicious food. And they managed to creep in just as the newly ordained headmaster concluded his speech. Donovan clapped as cheers rose to the high vaulted ceiling, and then turned to Syrica when the noise began to crawl back down.

"Punch? If you want some punch I don't mind getting you some punch."

[odium.]

He was still caught in the midst of his faux celebrity, a few over-enthusiastic cheers and some woo'ers returned his ego earthbound. It was obvious, or at least to someone like him, that theirs was a crowd that enjoyed their sarcasm. It was a thing that would certainly be duly noted, and returned in kind whenever possible. With a gloved hand, the headmaster adjusted the wire framed glasses that adorned his visage before fully retreating from the stage.

Making much less headway than anticipated, what with all the handshaking and greetings, to faculty and students alike, Dr. Maxwell felt odd. It was like some sort of trap, he suddenly felt it sprung around him, and there was nothing he could do to circumvent it. The gala was a dance of niceties, the likes of which he understood couldn't be avoided. One step forward, five handshakes; two steps backwards.

. . .

This was becoming a gauntlet, a veritable testament to his ability to endure the pressures this type of society would submerse him in. It felt as if his mask was starting to crack.

"Yes. . . yes. I look forward to working with you as well.

"Oh not at all. The pleasure is mine.

"Hopefully I won't be much of you this semester, in my office, that is. . ."

More, and more, and more. The effect was snowballing at an alarming rate. He managed a meager smile before deflecting the entire situation before allowing it to boil over.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to get myself some punch. I'm fairly parched."

[Beautiful.Story]

Victoria had spent her day putting her dorm together. She had finally finished putting her clothes away and had her bed fixed. Her shoes put away and her uniforms neatly hung. Her slender form moved quickly from her room as she made headway for the building the festivities were held.

She watched as a man who pulled along what looked to be his girlfriend. Victoria laughed and followed them. She was new here so she didn’t know much about the campus; she only hoped to make friends on this interesting journey to knowledge.

Entering the double doors of the domain, she saw the head master turn from the podium and she sighed. Victoria had just missed the opening speech. “What a bummer.” She spoke softly placing her right hand to its matching hip. It was a bit startling seeing all the students that attended this fine Academy.

Her form turned and made way for a seat close to the refreshments. It would be easier to mingle with food and drink close by. Her fingers laced together under her chin, propped by her elbows steadied on the table. Her plump lips smacked together as she ran her tongue across them elegantly. Her bosoms heaved with her breath as her button up top swayed with each heave. Her eyes would close taking in every detail of the room.

[Faustus]

Off topic:
In the interest of keeping the thread active, I'm skipping my partner this round. Pantalimon, feel free to integrate yourself back into the thread freely. You don't have to wait for another round.

"I'll go get you that punch."

Donovan's enthusiasm called him away from Syrica for the time being, and he wove his way through the bubbling masses of men, women, and some odd in-betweens until he found his way before the refreshments. Nimble fingers found themselves around small squares of moist cake and other pastry delicacies, in which shame did not restraint Donovan from shoving them wholesale into his mouth.

This was naturally followed up by three or four cups of punch. Donovan detected an odd taste sliding against his palate in tandem with the flavored drink, at once familiar and vague but ultimately decided that this taste was not unpleasant and did away with the thought. When he was at about the six glass range, Donovan gripped one last one he intended to bring back to Syrica and turned. Awaiting his sight was the headmaster.

"Hey, professor! Err, or should I say doctor? Or headmaster?"

Donovan brought the glass of punch halfway to his lips before remembering that this glass was designated for Syrica and dropped the hand back to his side. He did this without breaking eye contact, which made the haphazard motion seem half-intended.

After a very brief and customary introduction, Donovan brought his attention back to the table. Onto a plate he placed two little cakes, two little triangle halves of a sandwich, and two cookies. His hands were busy. After the trial of hands he'd just suffered through, the headmaster might be able to appreciate this of the young man.

"Heyyyy, so lemme ask ya. Are you gonna go head-hunting for talent, like headmaster Samal did?"

The boy kept his eyes on the task at hand but couldn't help cracking a smile. Last year headmaster Samal went after a man who registered to teach at the Academy and abdicated. The particulars of the situation remain unclear, but Samal had returned to academy grounds toting in a specially crafted receptacle the decapitated head of that man. This was Donovan's lean-to joke at any given time of day.

"Got anything planned for us students this year?"

[circa.cipher]

A quiet excitement built up inside the youth's gut, churning as if a boat on a rowdy ocean wave. Maybe it was the punch she was drinking, but she certainly felt giddy. Setting her cup to the side, she curled her fingers in the pearls around her neck. Someone might say that they were deformed, but they were merely fresh water pearls -- different from their salt water counterparts in that they had a dimpled surface. Their cherry red color matched her hair, if only a little brighter due to their sheen that her hair could simply not possess.

Her dress was a slim, silk sheathe of a champagne gold. However, it had fringe on it in layers, and her cream pashmina and accompanying gold head band gave her the bold look of a flapper girl. Her red hair fell aimlessly around her shoulders, stopping midback in misguided curls. The unruliness they displayed deserved a good brushing. Her burgundy lipstick stretched with her lips as she yawned and politely covered her mouth with her hand.

The final detail of the outfit was black lace that draped down from the headband to cover her eyes and nose. One of Shay's main quirks was that she always wore a mask. For some reason, she didn't trust people in seeing her face. While that also made people dislike her, she preferred being alone anyways. Although, it always led to awkward situations such as being alone at a school function. Grimacing, she glanced around at the thickening crowd, being pressed further in to the punch table as everyone swarmed it. Refreshments always were the biggest hit at parties.

[Batikblu]

A gorgeous event such as this, dusted with lights and a smattering of students young and old, just brought out the artisan within the young girl. Tucked away in the corner, she took a few minutes to admire the setting before throwing herself into it. Her time was split equally between the ceiling and the people, with this particular moment finding her head completely tilted back and leaving her neck exposed to her fellow party-goers. Either oblivious or uncaring to how ridiculous-- not to mention how simple-- she looked to be so fascinated with the decorations. Gaze eventually swept over the hall and down to the people as their headmaster wrapped up his speech. A smile sprung to the girl's face and hands leaped up to join the applause.

Such a young and delicate thing, she certainly looked the right age to be a school girl. It might have been for the better that she wasn't adorned in the delicate dresses and fine livery some of the other ladies chose, lest she started looking a little doll-like. Jetta did not own any formal wear though. Her traveler's tunic had been thoroughly scrubbed and cleaned and the golden trimming was cleaned up to shine. Even her boots were brushed down and polished. While she wasn't particularly feminine with her outfit choice, she beamed like she was any other belle at the ball. Terribly proud of the job she had done to pretty up her normal clothes, almost like a child with a gold star.

The golden laurel pin holding her scarf around her shoulders was certainly a good replacement for one.

Ah~! To enjoy the festivities and watch people in their excitement and anticipation of the new year. Her own heart pattered away eagerly at the thought of joining them in classes. So much to learn and do and see--

On one sweep of the room, she happened to notice a certain man spiking the punch. Eyes narrowed at the man as he too looked around the room and scoped out those present. I saw what you did. Like a watch dog she followed him as he shuffled around the buffet, until some flashy teacher or another passed by and distracted her with their shiny outfit. Lucky for him.

It wasn't long before she was tempted away from her wall and into mixing with the crowd. Such an attractive crowd. One gold dress caught her attention, though glancing up to try and meet the woman's eyes, Jetta was instead surprised at the lace that obstructed her. Unabashedly the tiny teen stared. Confusion at why Shay's face was hidden from the crowd.

'And why would you do that?' Goodness. She sounded almost personally offended, the bright sound of the girl's voice chiming through the crowd.

[Faustus]

Off topic:
I don't want to keep skipping Syrica (pantalimon) but she has yet to show face in the thread, and I don't want to stall it unnecessarily. So I'll keep moving on as if Donovan lost sight of her, and whenever Syrica's player is ready, she can integrate.

"Cause she doesn't want to go to jail for murder, that's why!"

The boy's voice charged between the lines of communication between Shay and Jetta, still in their infancy, and drew attention to the shadowy corner he occupied. Donovan stepped out into the light, immediately revealing the red band of solid color striping the bridge of his nose. Lines of concentration furrowed his brow as he searched for something, but the distant look in his eyes made it clear that he knew not what.

Then, as if a lightning bolt leapt from the sky and touched down on his chest, Donovan started and nearly leapt back.

"Get it?! I mean, it's like. Like does your face hurt? No? Cause it's killing me! That kinda deal."

His eyes sidled just once, jumped from Shay to Jetta, to see if his comedic genius was finally on the verge of being recognized but turned his eyes to the glass of punch before the answer became evident. He offered Shay a raise of his glass, in recognition, and let an easy, familiar smile tell the world that what to some may have sounded like a terrible, awkward insult was nothing more than a playful jab.

In three gulps, the glass was empty. In one motion, Donovan brought his arm to the side and flicked the glass to a nearby table. The glass leapt from his hand and neatly slid onto the table, stopping near its very center before colliding with the candles meant to give proper ambiance to the gala.

"But no, honestly, it's a damn good question." Donovan took his spot next to Jetta, crossing his arms and fixing Shay with the most scrutinous gaze he could muster, eagerly awaiting her reply.

Did he think anything of intruding upon what could possibly have been a private, intimate conversation? Of course not! Common decency? Tact?! A gala was not a place for such frivolous things. A gala was a place for punch.

[circa.cipher]

OOC: I think this is kinda turning into a nested type deal, so if your character isn't doing anything for a while, it'll just move on without you, but there's always available space for jumping in.

Shay's most recent thoughts were interrupted and disproved by a new comer: a girl that she didn't recognize. The girl hadn't seen her peculiar quirks before, and had become interested in them on first sight. Feeling self-conscious all the sudden, she was saved by Donovan -- again. Although his comment also embarrassed her, she felt safer in the environment again instead of like everyone was staring at her. Comedy had a way of relieving almost anything.

She smiled uncertainly at the both of them, her lips trembling slightly before embracing each other and hiding her second set of pearls. The relief from evading the question suddenly vanished when Donovan, after neatly discarding his cup, joined Jetta in curiosity.

"Well...I am shy?"

She paused as if actually thinking about her answer before saying it, but then it came out as a question. One side of her mouth curled down in a confused expression as she glanced at the two curious people before she turned her profile to them and took a big drink of punch. It made her throat and eyes sting, and she coughed into her hand, feeling even more embarrassed.

[Alexei]

Well, if there was one person that could be easily spotted within the crowd of the finely, or semi-finely dressed, then the raggedy teenager, who was making a fine wallflower, would be that person. His clothes were washed and clean, he himself was washed and clean, but like all travelers, who hadn't a penny to their name, he was travel worn. The read scarf that was wrapped about his neck was frayed and worn at the edges. His coat, though not as ragged, had definitely seen a great deal of use, as did his pants and boots, as well as his gloves. Worn as he was, he seemed not the bit tired, but he had taken a nap before the gala.

Now, it wasn't like he wasn't going out of his way to be unsociable, it was simple that he felt awkward, considering the amount of people around him, and the fact he knew absolutely none of them. What could he strike up a conversation with, who should he converse with. An awkward, raggedy teenager wouldn't be the most approachable thing at a gala, even he knew that. Alexei felt quite a bit under dressed, considering all the finery around him, and here he was, in the only outfit he had owned. In truth he couldn't much complain, there was free food, and free food was good food, any food was good food for that matter.

And at the thought of food, Alexei would make his move. Tugging his scarf up a bit, he would stalk his way to the table of food and punch. He'd maneuver his way through the crowd, his aim the table, and he would move as quickly and as quietly as he ever had. Food to him, was worth more than money, and he was really hungry. Once at the table, he would take one of everything piling it up on his plate, and was seemingly oblivious to everything else, but the food before him. Galas were all about the food, free, delicious food.

[Batikblu]

The gentle frown she wore was rattled off of her features as the young man snuck up on them and joined in from her blind spot. Her body may have tensed slightly in surprise, but as her head turned to look back over her shoulder and spot him, her eyes widened and brows hopped up in curiosity. A relaxed, genuine delight at the unexpected treat. More people to talk to! Well well! She was woefully inexperienced in this grand game of galas, but she'd happened upon a small key to the festivity.

Random interactions. Make a pair and hope for more to gather. She would do well in this place.

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly as the newcomer joined their company, perhaps not quite as tuned into the conversation as she ought to have been. While words lingered just upon her ears, hazel eyes trailed over their new companion to watch closely. They were held wide to take in as many details as possible in the glitzy, decorative lighting. Certain aspects certainly stood out. Hah, he was tall. Forcing her to tilt her head back as he stood next to her, though not quite towering over them. She had enjoyed having equally short company while it lasted.

Right.. The conversation. He glanced down at them expectantly and she scrambled to make sense of the words, slowly piecing them together until she had a sentence, a meaning, a joke. It took her a few seconds for the pixie-like teenager to actually get the quip. As he looked away to toss aside his glass, a chuckle bubbled up brightly. 'I get it!' Her lips peeled back to show a smile to match. Ever the equal-opportunist, she turned to beam over at the other woman with revived enthusiasm. A short derailing to encompass their new companion would hardly distract her any longer and she wished to share this energized attention.

'Shy?' Her head cocked to the side in curiosity. 'But it got our attention, didn't it?' A counter-intuitive attempt to hide, if that was the case. Clasping her arms behind her back, she instinctively leaned closer to the woman. 'Besides--!'

She popped a pout once more. 'Hiding a pretty face, what nonsense. I thought these sort of events were for showing off.' Tiny lady not quite out of childhood herself, with cherubic curls and an innocent eagerness for Shay, and she somehow considered herself brazen enough to chide like a nurse.

[Faustus]

Donovan found himself swaying to and fro, struggling against the weight of gravity. So far the battle was in his favor but not by as wide a margin as he would have liked or was accustomed to. Around this time, as Jetta displayed a surprisingly incisive wit and power of observation, an attribute that never failed to catch the boy's attention, Donovan began to heavily suspect something was amiss. Thoughts bubbled from the depths of his mind, replaying visions of a similar sensation on some long distant night, his clothing glacial and heavy from the interminable rain, his bare feet throbbing from overuse and body a wreck of tremors, a mixture of cold and fear and fatigue. The clear amber liquid in an abandoned cup, followed by instant warmth, a scathing throat, and that yet unnamed sensation that now assailed him.

If only he could recall just what happened to him that night, pin a tail on that donkey as it were, it would put him back on track. But this train of thought derailed the moment he registered Jetta's full response and began to laugh.

"Well! She's got you there, doesn't she!" The boy did not merely chuckle, he guffawed and everything in between. And made no effort to restrain himself. Now a sonorous rumbling of mirth frothing from his stomach; now a barely suppressed witch's cackle of terrific and frightening amusement.

Donovan's raucous celebration attracted eyes near and far, some for a scant few seconds before returning their attention to more formidable prey such as watching their own feet so as not to step on their dance partner, others a bit more lasting when curiosity peaked and held them rapt. All in all, providing a perfect distraction for Alexei as he pillaged the buffet.

Once the intense, but decidedly short-lived, gaiety had run its course, Donovan cleared his throat, wiped the tears from his eyes and returned to the conversation.

"Sorry for the sudden outburst." Donovan spoke more to Jetta than to Shay but was sure to include them both, then reached out and tousled Jetta's hair, fascinated by the bounce in her curls. "It's just that I've known the girl for too-long-to-care and never thought of that myself. You pegged the duck within minutes of meeting her.

"So what do you have to shay to that shilly shy Shay?"

[Fallen Joy]

“Enjoying the festivities, are we? I'd be wary of the punch.”

The voice rose from the bottom of the food table and was directed to Alexei, who had approached the buffet with ravenous desires. Concealed behind the smooth texture of the tablecloth, Liyah rested—back pressed lightly against one of the four legs of the furniture. She had been there for a minute, listening to the conversation between the ostensibly drunk Donovan, and collection of females. So serene and motionless, her presence left the table was completely undisturbed. Not that she held much weight anyway. Not in this form.

“While you’re there, why don’t you hand me one of those whip cream pastries?”

From the bottom of the table, a long white gloved hand revealed itself to the party and lifted with an open palm towards Alexei.

“If my nose stands correct, there should be a particular vanilla frosted cupcake, sprinkled with dried lavender and topped with…” She paused and inhaled deeply. “A strawberry.”

If Alexei so graciously complied, the hand with the cupcake would disappear under the cloth once more. With her sugary captive, Liyah's hand disappeared under the silhouettes of her large hood. When it returned, not a morsel of the pastry existed within her grasp, not even a crumb forgotten. A tongue wiped along a pair of lips, savoring the delectable desert devoured it in a single bite. What kind of monstrous mouth existed under that hood? In fact, Liyah's entire body was a mystery, covered head to toe with white silk. Not an inch of skin revealed. Perhaps if she tilted her head up one would get a glance of her chin and lips. Falling back into her still position, arms crossed idly along a pair of knees, Liyah addressed Alexei once more.

“Mmmm, appreciated. Now tell me, is there a reason you’re not taking interest in the commotion our drunken peer is making?”

[Alexei]

Alexei, having set his plat on the table would look at Donovan from atop the chicken leg held in his teeth. Manners were not in his repertoire when it came to eating, he himself thought simply when it came to such things, one never knew when their next meal might be. Not every hunt was successful in the wild. Here, the food was already caught and cooked. The glance to Donovan and his company was one of curiosity, he had heard their names on his approach to the table, but felt out of place amongst them, not quite understanding what was so funny that Donovan had to laugh.

Chewing on the leg, now holding it with his hand, the teenager would hover protectively over his area of the table. Taking a chuck off of the leg and chewing it, he would bring those chestnut hues to the voice, that this time was addressed to him. He would tilt his head for a second, before giving the hooded girl a nod, to bother her question, and her warning. His head would tilt to the other side as he watched her hold her hand out and ask for a pastry. His eyes would scan the table as she specified what she wanted. Such an elaborate way to make sweets. He would pick the one she had requested, and took another for himself, and handed it to her.

"Here." The quiet voice would ring out, before he took a bite of the pastry he can chosen for himself. He would chew as she spoke, listening to her. He would finish his cupcake, making another tilting motion, curious as to what she looked like under her hood. She must've wanted to keep her face hidden, personal reasons that he felt no right to ask about, most likely. At her question he would stare at her and give her a confused expression, then turned to the group, and then back to her. His head would return to the upright position.

"I didn't understand what they were talking about." He spoke plainly, explaining himself in the best way he could, bluntly. It wasn't that he didn't have a sense of humor, his just wasn't one that required the expert use of words. Truthfully, it was from his lack of what one would call the 'norm' of social interaction with people. So, instead of sounding like an idiot on subjects he didn't understand, he simply remained quiet, and detached. He was still somewhat detached, but he was curious about her. Her sense of smell was incredible, he only knew a few people who had such abilities, himself included.