Enter The Creation Ball (All participants begin here)

Suki nervously waiting in the car Cyrus had sent for her as they inched forward slowly. She was nervous enough to not wish to jump out and walk the rest of the way to the door. Her 1860's ball gown was difficult to maneuver but so very beautiful. The silk moiré was luxurious and adorned so beautifully with metallic gold appliqué.

Soon enough her door was being opened and the driver helped her exit. Her unsure steps were thankfully hidden by the voluminous skirts. Her slippers were flat thankfully and laced up her ankles.

The doorman took her invitation as she entered the ball. Nervously she looked around for Cyrus.

Nyra felt like a queen in her dress and jacket. The vibrant color was so beautiful and matched her hair well.

The carriage Connie had arranged to deliver them at this ball was breathtaking. Somehow she just kept getting awed by the sights and experiences this evening.

Her lover beside her looked amazing. Nyra could not wait to dance with the beauty.

"Shall we alight, m'love?"

Connie was relieved the horses seemed to be vampire-trained; she didn't need a pair of black stallions going apeshit and hurting someone because they didn't like her.

And she was ecstatic that Nyra had assented to go with her; the Ball seemed very formal, and it took Connie weeks of preparation to find the correct period clothes.

So she was glad, then, when she tugged the red damask bonnet into place over her short-cropped hair that everything so far seemed to be fitting quite well. A couple pins and clips held it into place, just in case.

Reaching beside her, she picked up the embroidered green-and-cream damask purse and tucked it under her arm.

Straightening in her seat, she smiled widely at Nyra. (Who, thankfully, had talked her out of wearing some kind of tooth caps, which while chronologically accurate, she agreed did detract from the beauty of her smile. Not that she wasn't modest about it!)

"Aye, m'Lady. Let's."

When the driver's hand assisted her with balance onto the sidewalk, she shimmied her hips just enough to let the tail of her American-style cotton print robe fall smoothly behind her. Stepping lightly in replica damask shoes (thankfully with strategically-strengthened heels) she turned and held her arm out for Nyra.

'Jesus, I can't breathe in this thing.'

Ellis muttered to Simon as they stepped out of black stretch limousine. Simon reached down and took Ellis' hand as her long leg exited the large opening. She wore an authentic deep red, floor length gown that kissed deliciously at her strapped ankles. It was made of satin and lace. The gown had a black bustier and it was so tight that her breasts threatened to leap out, which was oddly enough, how it was suppose to look like.

'I haven't worn this thing in about 800 years. I remember why now.' Without trying to look uncomfortable, she wrapped her arm around Simon's arm. She looked up at him and gave him a strained smile.

'This is the price you pay for fashion, El.' Simon grinned as she led her up the steps into the Creation Ball. He was wearing his formal Constable gear, the same one he had met Ellis in. A bit of steel plating, worn yarn and a scabbard he looked about, searching the room as they entered.

'Well, this is an interesting idea. Wonder how many humans here realize they'll probably be a mid night snack once that festivities are over.' Simon chose to dine before they had come to the ball, he had no desire to feast on the wealthy.

They tend to taste sour.

Carol had decided to come alone. Ellis had offered the limo but the idea of sitting close to Simon with Ellis near made him nervous. With all the odd feelings she was having around him, the less contact the better.

Carol took a deep breath and did a final sweep of her gown with her hand. Her hair was up in a loose bun, blonde tendrils cascading down her neck and the sides of her face. Her gown was the softest of lavendar silk. Being a familiar, she chose to wear something a little more recent rather than as dated as some of the patrons at the ball. The big poofy gowns only made her look like a umphalumpha.

It was a Juliet style wedding gown. Slender, long sleeves that hooked to her middle finger and delicate lace tripped the bodice. It clung to her a little more closely than that actual era but she looked like a princess at the ball. She looked about the room, trying to find someone she knew. With a soft shrug, she blew a curl out of her face and walked confidently in.

She'd been poor when shed been turned damned it, and it wasn't something Pakpao particularly liked being reminded of. Therefore, who'd ever come up with tonight's theme was not her friend, a feeling that was quickly strengthened when she saw all the other elaborate and rich costumes.

Granted some Siamese dress was beautiful, elegant, decadent even and she had advanced to that level of society; money actually, she'd always been an outcast. Farmers and prostitutes were not people the well to do often had dealings with, not in public.

Smiling, mostly smiling it looked like what it was a mix of pleasure and pain she straightened her cloths for the evening. Cotton, plain ordinary unadorned cotton, saved only from total simplicity by being dyed dark blue. A long tunic, almost a dress, split at the sides with wide sleeves to about her elbows covered loose wide legged pants in the same fabric, belted at the waist and worn with plain sandals. Even worse her hair was completely up and hidden.

Good entrance made, and hopefully over looked by most people, she immediately began tugging on Artemis's hand. She need a cigarette and did not want to be seen besides. Looking up at him, way up in her case, she rolled her eyes trying to convey the urgency of not being seen until she had a drink or a smoke.

He really had no intention of attending the ball. Mainly because he loathed the idea of wearing the garb of his time. At least the dress of court - it was much too fussy, and the fancy breeches were so godawful that he never wanted to see them again.

Instead he devised something more common, and a little before his time, but much more comfortable, and extremely better looking. He didn't even mind the tights, as they were practically covered by the tunic, and boots. The sword was his, yet he didn't feel at ease carrying it...he never had. Nic was quite the lover, definitely NOT the fighter.

As he stepped out of the cab, he thought he'd better get his ass out and buy a bike soon. Being dependent on cabs was just too much hassle. Besides, it had been a while since he had a bike...he missed the power between his legs. A chuckle was elicited by that thought, and he sauntered into the party. He didn't bother to look for anyone he might know...since he'd only met one other person since arriving in Nachton.

Artemis flipped the long braid back over his shoulder. it swung back and forth for a moment, brushing against the long red cloak. He gave the cloak a tug so that it settled properly, draping over one shoulder and clasped at the opposite. The cloak had been a gift and reward, though perhaps more of a bribe, for his deeds while in the military. It was perhaps one of the finest pieces in his wardrobe at the time. The red was deep, the gold pattern along the edge accented it well.

Artemis looked down at his attire, a mixture or supremely ornate with the surprisingly simple. He wore a pair of simple tan linen pants. They were too fine for everyday wear on the vineyard resembling more what he wore to meet the merchants. It had been hard to find the ankle boots he now wore. For some reason most vendors seemed to think all Romans wore sandals. granted these were not as sturdy as modern versions, but they were better than sandals.

It was the force of a very old habit that made him place a hand on the dagger belted at his waist as her surveyed the room. Artemis quickly adjusted the white linen tunic with embroidered trim in an effort to not look like he was ready for a brawl. Settled and as comfortable as he was going to get, he began to look around. Feeling the tug on his hand, Artemis looked down at the woman who had accompanied him and smiled. " I think we could both use a drink or several."

Addison frowned at the various very manly costumes before picking at the material on one sleeve idly. Maybe it would have been better to not come at all than in this...but when his friend had heard "period costumes" she'd immediately sent him this...thing.

Dressed in Geisha gear from head to toe, Addison was in reds that matched his cherry colored hair well, hair that was pulled up and back mostly with long Chinese style hair sticks. The gown part was a little long, making him lift it slightly so that he could walk. Better find Carol, and say hello quickly and get out of there before he was embarrassed beyond repair.

(OOC: Costume looks a lot like this with minor changes and different hair.)

Karl surveyed the crowd, watching the staff attend to the first course with the fluid grace he had come to expect. Soon plates were cleared away for the entrée, a positively divine selection in his not so humble opinion. After leaving a sufficient amount of time for cleaning up, he gestured for the covered trays with carefully arranged plates of the three entrée options underneath to be rolled out to the various tables. Other carts held an assortment of waters and bottles of red and white wines.

After watching a moment to make sure progress was well under way, Karl took the last cart of beverages and began working his way through the tables.

Dani carefully lifted the white kirtle to avoid stepping on it while she went up the stairs, though she was walking fairly normally in the long garment by the time she got to the entrance hall. She turned to Claire and beamed a smile; they looked like they could be sisters, at least as far as costumes went.

"Oh, not at all; this is quite fun in fact."Â?

She was used to wearing heels to give her a little help in the height department, but found that her soft burgundy slippers were quite a nice change. They also went quite nicely with the matching burgundy mantle with the deep red, nearly black, print. What Claire had called the 'gunna' was a rich brown that she felt suited her complexion nicely, with burgundy trim and cinch.

"-We- look wonderful. And I don't know...I think anyone with less than honorable intentions might find the fact that I'm Arin Bjorn's assistant to be a deterrent. "

She was, in fact, untouchable in theory at least, being who she was, but some didn't pay attention to that and Arin had been sure to caution her in that respect. Still, this event should be fairly safe, as most were too caught up in the festivities to cause trouble. She was in all honesty more concerned about Arin and his companion tonight, and with that in mind she gave a discreet nod to the two bodyguards that tailed them into the ballroom. They disappeared into the edges of the room, or so it seemed, but they would be watching for trouble. They knew better than to be seen; this was supposed to be a pleasant evening for her boss and she would rather he didn't stress about his personal security, but at the same time it wouldn't be responsible of her not to see to his protection.

The cleanup crew was making efficient work of clearing away the dinner plates and swapping out appetizers and finger foods for the wide variety of desserts on offer. Guests of the ball were welcome to go to the tables off to the sides and help themselves, but as soon as the cleanup crew was done more trays would be brought to individual tables with a choice of delicacies.

Karl grabbed a small pastry off a passing tray and sampled it. Perfect. He made his way through the crowd, noticing that a few had decided with dinner done and the music beckoning, it was as good a time as any to start the dancing that would carry out through the evening.

/ooc don’t feel like you have to choke down dinner and get to dessert and dancing if your thread’s not there yet. Just wanted to give a sense

Winter sat in the middle of the chaos, sweaty inside the rubber suit.. the two months of work had been worth every moment. he surveyed the damage he had caused, a manical grin on his face beneath the suit, leggo Tokyo was in ruins, it had taken him 7 and a half weeks of constant work, only stopping to eat and sleep, he had built a perfect model of Downtown Tokyo from the stolen leggo's, it took over 300,000 of them to see his vision realized, 6 solid weeks of construction, and another week and a half of detail work to get it to look right. The production quality Godzilla suit had been a lucky find online. All in all it had been worth it, sure no one saw the mock Tokyo built from the tiny toy parts, but it wasn't about that, he was the only one who needed to see it, he knew it had been there, even when he thrased and stomped his way through it, crushing it under foot.

The cool October air felt good, the suit was already cooling down. The motorcycle ride must have made an interesting sight, Godzilla on a bike.

The community center looked nice tonight, and if his mickey watch was correct there was supposed to be a halloween party going on here tonight.. 'is it Halloween already? ..wow.. time flies.. and it sure doesn't feel like Febuary'

he parked and made his way inside, the sound of the music led him into the ballroom.

He had been so busy lately Talon had not even had time to tend to his more pressing duties, but the time away from Nachton had cleared his head. It was time to let everyone know he had returned.

he read the inviatation carefully, and smirked when he saw the theme.. well they had asked for it..

*************

Talon arrived at the ballroom and suddenly felt a little better when he saw the wide range of costumes present, maybe he wouldn't stand out so much..

in he walked in the roughly sewn leather pants and thick hide boots he'd made several years ago, they were similar to the ones he wore in the summer months in his village so long ago, but these had been made from forrest beast and not the flesh of his enemies, never the less, the more modern set amongst them would probably object to the human leather and the cords of woven hair.. better to seem more the nobleman then the solider. he chest bare and his hair down and hanging in his face, his huge frame swallowed the doorway, the scars traced with paint seemed almost to glow, he had run a finger of blue paint over them to accentuate, as his people had done once at times like these to show off. His thickly muscled arms painted with the Fenrir runes, down to the leather bands he wore wound around his wrists. Slowly he drug his gaze over the room, and then made his fisrt steps twords the bar.

It felt good to be yourself once in awhile.