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Post by CHRISTIAN REICHENBACH on Jan 2, 2012 23:44:33 GMT -5
Dear God, these things were awful. And, what was worse, he was suppose to be hosting this nonsense. Women in cocktail dresses, men in black ties and Armani suits. Smiling through their teeth, every last one of them, drinking the fine wine and champagne- genuine champagne, from France-, and munching on the little bite sized hor d'ourves that were filled with truffles and caviar and other pretentious foods that required an acquired taste.
Weren't these people something? Coming to an Adolfo Reichenbach party. Sadly, he got caught up in the Alps, and his oh so charming Grandson who happened to be in New York took his stead as host, but still to be invited. To be able to tell friends that they were even thought of for this intimate gathering of one hundred and fifty people. What an honor! What a privileged! What a load! Half of the women with tight, plastic, faces trying to look as young as the other half- mistresses or new young wives of the social elite. The men were all basically the same, though a few brought their sons along. Hopes of junior taking over the family business, Christian supposed.
He truly hated these gatherings, and always had. When he was a child, his Grandfather had hosted one in Milan. Christian, being a scamp, snuck under the table and stole a woman's shoe. When he proudly revealed his trophy to his Grandfather Adolfo, he was told to go put it back where he found it immediately. And he had. With the added cutesy of filling the toe with Duck Liver Pâté. The woman screamed, and Christian grinned victoriously. At least until he received a whipping later that night. Sipping his champagne, he couldn't help but eye the Pâté with fond and tempting interest.
Alas and shit, it came time to deliver a rousing speech. To tell the troops to give their money to... whatever charity they were giving too tonight. Hell, perhaps Christian should have looked into this. As he pondered quickly what he was going to say, a golden trinket glided over to him. She was not terrible on the eyes, though it was tragic how aware of this she was. Dirty blond hair, and wrapped in cloth of gold like a slutty Tudor Princess. His eyebrow raised at her introduction. Stranger? Oh my oh my, how new was she to this scene that Christian was a stranger? Did she not even know the host of this party? He stared at her for a moment, his pale blue eyes acute and amused, before giving a chuckle and walking away.
With a heavy sigh, he clinked his glass, receiving the attention of his guests. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman." He spoke in an almost lazy tune, though there was a playful inflection moved in the words. Like he was charmingly indulging them. "I'm sure you would all like to get back to the party, so I'll be quick. On behalf of my Grandfather Adolfo, I would like to thank you for giving to the-" His eyes scanned around, til they spotted an invitation. On it, was a little logo for Hungry Folk. So that's what they were doing tonight? Feeding the homeless by gorging on imported wine and delicacies? And all of them played right along too it, didn't they? They were all caught up in the glamor! Fucking adults! Disgusting. Still, he smiled. "-to those less fortunate than ourselves. You're all doing such a good thing tonight, so don't be shy with those pocket books." There was a general laughter at his jest, and soon a race would certainly start to see who was the most generous. Ticks of society, the whole lot. "As they say: "Qu'ils mangent de la brioche". Good night." He lifted his glass to his 'guests, and sipped lightly from the fluted cup.
Bastards. He hated everyone of them, and their horribly boring lives. As the party kicked back into gear, he saw his dirty blond friend who had amused him so greatly earlier. Perhaps the uncouth lass was just what he needed right now. Strolling back to her, he stood in his Armani suit- which was just the same as the others, except the black silk tie was loosened around the unbuttoned top collar- and he waited for her to speak again. Ah, but she might be sore. Giving an inch, he gave his most charming smile. "I'm Christian Reichenbach.
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EMILIE SIMONE
CLASSIC LITERATURE
BAUM ACADEMY JUNIOR
IRENE ADLER
SHERLOCK HOLMES
DORMANT
Do you know why a caged bird sings?
Posts: 50
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Post by EMILIE SIMONE on Jan 4, 2012 0:18:39 GMT -5
Emilie Simone was not one to hate blindly. Neither, however, was she one to love, or even like easily. It was with these stipulations in mind that she had come to terms with the fact very early on in life that she despised parties. Or, at the very least, all parties she had been to. Not being one of the rambunctious crowd at school, she had never set foot in a dorm party, although she knew for a fact she would hate those far more than the likes of these, with their stuffy drinks and stuffier people and, occasionally, her sister and her husband. It was that, of course--or him, rather--which really set her off, for she hated the old man more even than she detested his grandson, and despised following his orders above all others. Still, she told herself, it was all just a game. An horribly twisted game with absolutely no winners, but a game none the less. It was because of said game, and especially because of said lack of winners, that she'd invited Kaden here tonight in the first place. It was an easy enough thing to ask, for she'd both honestly wanted some company other than Christian (who hardly counted) and she'd known Adolfo was not to be expected at this particular gathering. Stuck in the Alps, if she remembered correctly. Christian had told her something of the sort, while simultaneously reminding her that her attendance was expected, regardless of the presence of her legal guardian. As if she could have missed it for the world. He'd know, even if Christian didn't tell. Someone would make note of it somehow, for ever since she'd first met the man, he'd stayed close. Uncomfortably close, at times, although she hardly noticed until she became much older and it grew to be common. It seemed to Emilie--who was by no means superstitious--as though he could see through every wall and hear under every door, regardless of their distance from the man himself. Naturally, her absence would have been noted. She knew this well. What she also knew, however, was that although she had been expressly forbidden to date before leaving for New York, no one would take the time to notice that she'd brought someone with her. Kaden, she knew, was inconspicuous. That, and only a friend. There would be no public displays of affection here, for there were none between them, although that would not make her hesitate to speak softly, slowly, or with whatever sort of infliction necessary to obtain what she desired. Not that she was playing him. She wouldn't have invited him here if she hadn't genuinely enjoyed his company--a rare state to be in, where Emilie was concerned. She had managed to avoid speaking to most others thus far, exchanging only a few polite smiles and even fewer words with those in attendance whom she'd known since childhood. They inquired falsely about her well-being and she responded with equally false nods and small conversation until the required mingling time was over, and she was free to move on her way. She was not hosting; there was no need for extended formalities. And so it went on while Kaden searched for drinks (better perhaps, that they didn't see her with him from the start anyhow, as now it could be made clear they'd only just met at the party to anyone who hadn't seen them arrive together) and she scanned the crowd looking for no one in particular. She stopped searching, however, the moment she heard the clinking of his glass. Her eyes followed Christian once he'd finished the pretentious, ever so charming speech, watched him from across the room all the way to--now who was this? There was a momentary flash of amusement on Emilie's face as she took in the girl's attire; she was quite obviously new to these sorts of things. As much as she tried to look away and begin a search for Kaden, however, she found she couldn't. There was something far more alluring about whatever little conversation these two were having, not that she could care less what it was actually about. Interesting to her was Christian, not that she was going to admit it. Which, of course, was why she'd brought Kaden along, in addition to the desire for actual company that didn't require falsities (not that she'd given him anything but as of yet), or at least had the potential not to. Hearing the golden girl's obviously annoyed remark, Emilie's eyes couldn't help but light up as her lips drew upwards ever so slightly. "Oh, I really don't think he'd mind all that much, to be honest. Would you, Christian?"[/color] she spoke politely to the girl, although there was perhaps a twinge of mockery in her bemused tone as she continued, eyes flickering momentarily to Christian. "He does so love the attention."[/color] Truer words had, in her opinion, never been spoken. Now if only Kaden would show up soon, so she didn't get mocked later for being petty. Not that she was. outfit: Here, thanks to the lovely Molly  |
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Post by CHRISTIAN REICHENBACH on Jan 4, 2012 23:44:59 GMT -5
Well, wasn't she the smooth and disinterested operator? Christian rather enjoyed the coy game. A task that proves a challenge, after all, is far more rewarding than one simply handed over. There was something... magniloquent about her. But still uncouth. Such a strange combination. Like she thought she belonged here, but lacked the social graces. Dear God, she was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. His smile didn't falter at her chiding, as he spun the stem of his fluted glass slowly between his fingers. He began to reply, when the voice of Emilie Simone trilled in his ear, making him roll his head on his broad shoulders to listen. Cerulean chiffon and pearls; it was quite becoming on her. Besides a small lift on his lips, Christian seemed ineffected by her words, turning his attention back to Robin. Railynn? Kennedy? Regan! Ah, well, that could have been awkward.
"I was quite rude earlier." He announced, though no contrition was found in his voice. "Hosting, it honestly isn't my thing. I tend to more enjoy attending soirees, but here we are." His eyes flickered to Millie Bird, who stood as if waiting for someone. Who? "Aunt, you didn't introduce yourself." He flashed his most handsome grin, which filled his face and revealed a set of straight white teeth. "This is my Great Aunt Emilie. Her sister is my Grandmother... It's a bit of a Simone family tradition, you see, marrying my Grandfather. Wouldn't it be a scandal if the trend persisted?" His eyes lit with a fire of his own mean sense of humor, knowing very well the level of contempt that Emilie held for Adolfo Reichenbach.
It was, perhaps, even a bit cruel. He figured it must be a constant fear for her. That her sister would be usurped in Adolfo's lecherous eyes and Trina's place in his bed would be filled by Millie. His stomach, which contained only a bit of champagne and a few olives, churned in distaste for his own comment, and he shifted so his back was on his Great Aunt. He knew she'd be furious, and this was sufficient. Instead, he put his full attention on the gold clad, dirty blond, in front of him. To anyone but Christian, it would seem that his interest in this Trinket of a girl was far greater than that of his Aunt, and his pale blue eyes studied her intently. With, one might add, a certain lack of modesty. Anyone who would wear such a thing was not looking for modesty. She wanted to be noticed, curves and all. The fact that this wasn't quite the case was irrelevant, as it was no one else's damn business why he was suddenly ignoring Emilie.
"Tell me, Regan, do you dance? If, nothing else, I could at least offer to relieve some of your boredom. These events are painfully tedious, some conversation might ease a bit of the suffering." He spoke rhythmically, with soft, silken, words, as if it was a well known song. And he knew his song well. Offering his hand, his dashing smile set in place, he hoped she would accept before he had to endure whomever Emilie had decided to bring along to this hellish event.
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Post by KADEN ALLINGHAM-HEMSWORTH on Jan 16, 2012 1:39:45 GMT -5
-( ♣ )-( ♠)-( ♥ )-( ♦ )-
JOKER CAME AND RAN OFF WITH MY QUEEN OF HEARTS TONIGHT I AIN’T PLAYING WITH A FULL DECK OF CARDS-( ♣ )- ( ♠ )-( ♥ )-( ♦ )-( ♣ )-( ♠ )- Kaden had to admit: he’d been skeptical of this “party” idea at first. The entire ordeal just struck him as such an unnecessary procedure: the arrival in a room he didn’t want to enter, to greet people he didn’t particularly know and wanted to greet even less, to partake in activities in which he didn’t want to partake, and to be served food that he would almost certainly be unable to eat.
And yet…there was something particularly enticing about Emilie Simone. From the way she smiled with vague undertones of any emotion one could name to the silky suavity of her voice like a maiden gliding across the floor. She felt like a puzzle to Kaden, but a beautiful, polished, marble puzzle excavated by archaeologists from the ground without a speck of dirt to taint its original glory. And Kaden loved puzzles. So he’d agreed to escort her to this party, against the majority of his better judgment.
The visit, so far, had been rather uneventful. He’d been sent to get drinks rather early on, but had elected to wait by the drink table for Emilie to make her way over to him. To reach her would simply require so very much effort, what with the extensive crowd occupying the space between them, and anyways, observation always raised his spirits more than anything else.
His eyes absorbed the settings around him as he watched the denizens of the party meander in and out of each other. It was like watching animals in a zoo, he thought, listening to the meaningless chatter and humorless laughs as the glasses clinked. The behavior of humans simply fascinating to observe and deduce within one’s mind. He was a sociology major after all.
He felt his mind begin to pull the connections from the air, even as he tried to make his eyes search for the presumed object of his affections as far as this party was concerned.Pampered girl, [/color]he thought as a young woman in a blue gown with crystal earrings brushed past him. The faintest trace of lipstick on her cheek. Escorted by her female significant other…[/color] He spotted a tiny, subtle indentation running through her skin across her cheeks, accompanied by her ring finger, which was surprisingly…empty. A significant other who proceeded to betray her. Naughty woman. [/color]He surveyed the crowd again, quickly pinpointing the exact shade of lipstick on a tall, dark, broad woman who was hopelessly entangled in another man across the room. The kiss seemed rather calm, rather controlled in comparison to others of its kind that Kaden had seen. They’ve been planning this for months. It’s second nature to them.[/color] He quickly took in the pale blue, rugged collar on the man’s shirt, the scruffiness of his shoes, the layer of dust on his jacket. Secondhand clothing. Not very rich. He only wants her money. Kaden shook his head, taking a sip of his beverage. Should’ve stayed a lesbian. [/color]He chuckled to himself. And then his eyes fell upon Emilie, his date, in conversation with a blonde young man and a rather snide-looking girl. Something flared within his chest, but he smothered it before it registered with his mind. Christian. The voice floated over the hubbub, identifying the young man. Kaden sighed, realizing that this was probably as good a time as any to assimilate himself among this community. He began to make his way through the crowd, feeling the aches in his joints as they moved. By the time he reached the little group, his legs were screeching in pain. ”Greetings.”[/color] Kaden handed the glass wordlessly to Emilie, nodding in acknowledgement at the two strangers before him. He sipped his own drink, wishing he had a table on which to shuffle and deal his cards. His fingers felt stagnant without a deck to fiddle through. But he was careful not to show a drop of annoyance on his face, or desire, or anything really, for that matter. Dear Lord, this Christian fellow was mentioning dancing. Kaden was quite averse to dancing, as a simple walk from one end of a dance floor to the other was enough to set his limbs ablaze, but he clenched his teeth to keep the discomfort from his features. Though dozens of remarks and responses flashed through his head, Kaden simply sipped his beverage, eyeing his compatriots coyly and waiting for Emilie to make her move. After all, the boldest of card players were almost always the least lucrative. And what did Kaden have in the world, if not his silence? [/blockquote] -( ♥ )- ( ♦ )-( ♣ )-( ♠ )-( ♥ )-( ♦ )- Wordzies:Some number
Tagzies: Regan, Christian, Emilie
Outfitz:here
Creditz: Full Deck of Cards-Rick Trevino. Monica made this template, so DON’T BE STEALIN’, YA HEAR?
Notzies: Kaden is disgusted that he is even associated with a thread called “The Party Don’t Start ‘Till I Walk In.” [/size][/font] |
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EMILIE SIMONE
CLASSIC LITERATURE
BAUM ACADEMY JUNIOR
IRENE ADLER
SHERLOCK HOLMES
DORMANT
Do you know why a caged bird sings?
Posts: 50
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Post by EMILIE SIMONE on Feb 3, 2012 20:34:49 GMT -5
To call her livid would have been the understatement of the century. There was a pallor spreading over her face as Christian spoke which would have looked dangerous enough on its own, if not accompanied by the narrow-eyed look she shot in his direction. It was the sort of glare reserved only for the most vehemently despised situations, and one not even Christian could have been all too familiar with, which was really saying something.
Still, she knew full well that was what he wanted. A reaction—however small—was as predictable as the sunrise when concerning the topic of Adolfo. It was indeed one of her worst fears, becoming the apple of the man’s eye in any way more than she was now, and even the slightest thought of visiting his bedroom was enough to make her skin crawl so violently she nearly vomited. Jaw tightening visibly, the paleness in her cheeks was replaced with a slight blush as she struggled with the sudden urge to slap him. It was a remarkable thing, really, to cause Emilie Simone to lose her temper or show even the slightest signs of doing so; unfortunately, Christian knew just how to hit her nerves better than anyone else. She’d get him later, however. When there was more damage to be done. If there was one thing Emilie was a firm believer and avid practitioner in, it was revenge. Even more so, fortunately, where Christian was concerned. It was this simple, calming thought that allowed her to regain her composure (still quite the feat, considering just how much she was seething within) and smile sweetly at the girl standing before her, apparently the current object of Christian’s affections. Not that she cared. Especially not after he’d dared stoop so unforgivably low.
“The pleasure’s all mine, I assure you,”[/color] she spoke easily, and without any of the vindictiveness so obviously laced throughout the other girl’s words. Petty games of jealousy were not hers to play, and particularly when that jealousy was nonexistent.
It was just when Emilie had learned the girl’s name that Kaden appeared, and although she didn’t show it, she truly could not have been more grateful for his timing.
“Thank you,”[/color] she offered Kaden a small smile as she took the glass from his hand, pausing to take a light sip before her eyes widened in the perfect imitation of genuine surprise and embarrassment.
“Oh, well this is horribly rude of me—Kaden, have you met Christian?”[/color] she turned so as to face the both of them, nodding at each respectively while staying sure not to turn her back on Regan. Again, there would be no displays of pettiness here. “He’s hosting this all, and I’d feel awful having invited you if you two were never able to meet…”[/color]
Little innocent smile still on her face, Emilie lifted her free hand to rest on Kaden’s forearm in a manner that bordered somewhere between friendly and slightly romantic—in short, just enough to be noticeable. Which, of course, was exactly what she wanted. She turned to Christian and Regan, brow furrowing in what could only be concern. “But of course, I don’t want to keep you two from your fun. He really is an excellent dancer, Regan. Just be careful… he has a tendency to get ahead of himself,”[/color] the words were polite and poised, of course, but there was a tiny flicker of something in Emilie’s eye as she glanced towards Christian, something that suggested she was in no way going to forget his words any time soon. Still, it was subtle. The sort of look only the worst of enemies would dare pick up on.
When the two had made their way to the dance floor, Emilie moved her hand from its position on Kaden’s arm—slowly, for there was a small warmth radiating from him that she couldn’t help but enjoy slightly—and took another small sip from her glass. As she did so, the tiniest of smirks crossed her lips, but it vanished the moment the glass left her mouth. She turned away from the dance floor so as to face Kaden head on, forget-me-not eyes suddenly focused on him and him alone.
“So, Mister Allingham-Hemsworth,”[/color] she spoke smoothly, in a manner that was neither flirtatious nor platonic, and hovering somewhere very near the line of dangerous, “You don’t seem much for dancing. Tell me, what is it you do enjoy—that is, apart from parlor tricks.”[/color]
If he liked it, no doubt he’d have asked by now. It was a bit disappointing perhaps, as she did quite enjoy dancing, but then, maybe there was no need. She was hardly going to give Christian the satisfaction, and besides, it wasn’t as though she didn’t genuinely enjoy Kaden’s company.
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