ꜱ1ᴇ2　　bar

@♆　Basil ↳ ᴍᴀʏ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: revolution - the score

Monarch, despite his upbringing, was not a man who drank often. Alcohol was boring; he knew too many people who either abused it or relied on it to make their lives more entertaining, more livable. Monarch was not the same. His excitement came from the tearing of flesh and the shedding of blood—and for the half-pixie, an enjoyable intoxication could not be guaranteed by mere alcohol. He preferred violence.

Violence at a dance, however, he was certain would be frowned upon.

Despite not being a man who enjoyed alcohol, Monarch was still standing near the bar, with a dark glass in his hand. The liquid inside, however, was not the wine it looked like and he calmly played it off as. It was blood—nourishment for a vampire, but Monarch didn't quite like the liquid diet of his mother's kind. Without the texture and flavor of flesh, blood was rather... lacking.

Nonetheless, it did soothe the prickles of hunger Monarch had felt starting to gnaw at his insides. No matter how altogether unsatisfying the taste was, blood was his only option until he could escape from the ball and properly feed. Apparently he was wrong about the snack he'd had earlier being satisfactory; what a shame.

Smelling the dragon approaching through the crowd, Monarch turned to look as Basil smiled and waved. Ah, yes, the camaraderie of Vos, seeking one another out even in crowded social situations. "Hello, Basil," he greeted, tone and expression neutral. The dragon was one of the less obnoxious members of Vos, certainly tolerable enough to spend some time with—though Monarch wasn't responsible for any maiming if he grew annoyed. "Enjoying the ball?"

@♆　Monarch An amber drink rested in the dragon’s hands as he watched the active floor of the ballroom. Bodies spun around each other, some more in time to the sound of the instruments than others. He heard laughing whenever people stepped on one another’s toes, couples giggling and chatting among themselves. He did have to admit, it was quite the experience, attending the mayor’s party. While he hadn’t participated in any of the festivities himself.. being out and around people was quite nice.

Briefly, he wondered where the other members of Vos may have gotten to. How many of them had actually gotten themselves dates in the end? Some were less interested in others he understood, but others would be excited to find themselves someone to tag along with. Basil took a slow sip from his drink, rolling his shoulders before he got up to his feet. He’d might as well look around and see who he could see. It would make for good teasing later if he saw anyone with a date who hadn’t had one when arriving.

His drink still in hand, the man stepped out from his sheltered corner of the bar, glancing around. It took him a moment, surveying the many faces of the crowd, ever changing. At last, his dark eyes fell upon a familiar face. Monarch. The same guy he’d enlisted to do his makeup for the evening. As far as he knew, Monarch hadn’t had a partner to Ziminiar’s little shindig. Perhaps some company from the dragon would be appreciated. Though, he was never quite sure with Monarch. He wove with ease between people, working his way over. Upon arrival, Basil smiled in greeting, giving a light wave with his unoccupied hand as he announced himself.

↳ ᴏᴘᴇɴ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ!
↳ ᴍᴀʏ 31, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: heatwaves - glass animals

Reina, having just finished a dance with Klahan, delicately settled herself into one of the barstools and tapped her fingers on the counter to get the bartender's attention. "Whiskey, no ice," she uttered firmly, with a winning smile and a wink. "Thanks, baby."

Crossing one leg over the other, the Goddess made herself comfortable and looked around her, taking stock of the other people at the bar. Klahan was sitting in the stool beside her, watching the dance floor with a look of utter boredom etched into his usually-blank face. Reina knew he was there to "babysit", but he didn't have to be miserable while he did.

"I won't be drunk for a while," she chided, "and I can't punch Mr. Mayor if he's all the way across the room. Go dance with somebody, or something. Maybe someone will come talk to me if you're not over here sulking."

With a roll of his eyes, Klahan pushed himself off of the stool. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he promised, and walked toward the dance floor. With a knowing smile, Reina turned back to the bar and lifted her drink, sipping the whiskey with a content hum.

Now she just had to wait for someone to approach.