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 Posted: Tue Jan 09, 2024 10:13 am
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Ignatius could feel Aureliano's grip tighten on his shoulder, along with an echo of pain that went straight through his neck and down into his core. They hadn't had the brands long, but the constant flickers and sudden bites of pain were quickly becoming a headache -- and that, of course, was exactly why they were here. The sooner theey could rid themselves of this wretched inferanl brand, the better.
Ignatius remained next to Aureliano, studying the vampire before them. Besides the horns sprouting from his head, he looked otherwise unremarkable. Bored, perhaps, but he wouldn't have pegged him as anything particularly outstanding if he hadn't specifically been hoping to find one. Would this get them the information they needed? Or would this be a dead end? Iggy kept his mouth shut, letting Aurey talk. He'd screwed things up enough as it was... He wasn't going to take any chances of mucking up this encounter.
---
Xapham's smile never wavered, even at the direct question. He let his gaze sweep over the pair of vampires -- a black haired, porcelain beauty and his dark eyed, mowhawked companion. His imagination flit over the possible sacrifices he could make; what lovely scars he could inflict, what spells he could attemp with them back in his lair. Mmm. But that was neither here nor there -- hee was meant to be on his best behavior, after all.
"I am, my inquisitive friends," he purred, taking a step closer. The scent of the damned's touch on them both was clear, and a little intoxicating. "What might I do for you?" He asked, encouraging them closer so they might talk without having to shout above the din of the crowd and music. Mostly, it was an excuse to get closer. Two vampires well in their prime... Perhaps they were looking to convert. Ha.
Perhaps the night was taking a more interesting turn. The vampirer could only hope.
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Posted: Wed Jan 10, 2024 12:24 am
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Rolling his eyes at Radu's antics, Vano nevertheless couldn't quite hide a grin. However he might act, Vano was a typical Ravnos to his core. He often entertained himself and others spinning stories about events that had happened, often without a shred of the original truth to them... and various items had a certain way of finding their way into his pockets. He was not above or better than his fellow Ravnos kindred. But it was his duty to look after them and make sure they didn't break Elysium or cause undue harm to the clan's reputation. Or to themselves.
That sometimes meant stealing back stolen goods and returning them. Sometimes, it means distracting his fellow Ravnos from whatever their vice happened to be. Sometimes it meant literally pulling them out of the line of fire. As might be the case tonight, if Radu wasn't careful. He hadn't missed the glances thrown their way by the Giovanni from before. However, he was hoping nothing would come of it and that he'd be able to have a nice time here with Llewellyn.
"Your grandfather and I are good friends, that much is true." And, like Lillian, he was one of Ravnos's childer. One of the oldest, at that. They'd known each other for quite a long time. Which made chatting up his grandson... interesting, but Vano was trying not to let that get in the way of the moment.
Vano thought over what Llewellyn had said. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not thinking of you in terms of who you're connected to, and I doubt my Kumpania would either. To be honest... they're a little irreverent anyway. Grendel may be the god of vampires and Ravnos may be their Disciple, but you know how Ravnos are. They do whatever they want, and getting them in line is like herding cats. I'd introduce you as Llewellyn. Just Llewellyn."
To say that Claudius was displeased by this turn of events was an understatement. It was plain as could be that his and Vinny's efforts had not fooled Constancia at all. But there had been every chance that nothing they did would have fooled her. She had her... methods. She knew things that one should not know. The Giovanni's mouth hardened into a thin, flat line. He was just shy of pulling his lips back to bare his teeth in an instinctive threat, but fortunately Claudius had greater self control than that.
"Wonder what you like, Constancia. But the corruption ends with me." Whatever corruption she was referring to, anyway. Perhaps the necromancy of their family. Perhaps... some twisted imagining of her own. She was like that. He tightened his grip on Vinny's hand, ignoring his own children as they passed him by. He loved them deeply and fiercely, but never would he reveal their existence to a pair of Cappadocians, particularly not Constancia or Lazar.
However... if they laid a single claw on one of his children, he would twist the laws into whatever form suited him, and get his vengeance. He would pluck his children out of harm's way, so help him. If these two dared to threaten his children... it would not end well for them. He was no helpless creature. Bound by Elysium or no, there were ways. They only had to wait until they were out of the mansion to find out just how far his reach could go.
The Cappadocian witch seemed to be moving on, and he was more than happy to see her go. Though he would watch her like a hawk. He had his own people among the sea of kindred. His own ways. They would not be left untethered to cause whatever havoc suited them. His father's presence would hopefully serve as a distraction from his children. After all, Augustus Giovanni was more than capable of holding his own under any circumstance.
"You as well, Constancia. Come, Vincenzo. The dance floor beckons." He guided his husband away from the front entrance, toward the ballroom. The stalemate was ended, for the time being. Claudius had not let his guard down by any means... but appearances needs be maintained. And perhaps this would give him a different vantage point. He could silently confirm whether his children were in one piece - and he hoped that none of them were in the ballroom.
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Posted: Wed Jan 10, 2024 12:48 pm
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The way Kemat moved was more of a serpentine flow, with all the grace and air of a queen. She adorned Abanaub's arm like the jewel she was, her gaze sweeping out over the gathering throng as though it were only for her Disciple. Neferu, on the Disciple's other arm shone like a darkling star, a twin to her own. Whatever little spat seemed to have been forming dissipated as quickly as it had arisen. She did not care for the squabbles of other clans, except in how they might benefit her own. But she listened attentively, her sharp ears catching scattered words here and there. Anything she heard she would report back to Abanaub later, if she deemed it worthy of his hearing.
"A drink and then perhaps a brief turn about the room." For this event was hardly worth remaining for overlong. They had children waiting at home, and clan business to attend to. Socializing, however useful it might be, was not exactly a pleasurable activity. But it would not do not to make an appearance. Abanaub had made a commitment to Grendel, after all, and perhaps this was part of his way of demonstrating that commitment. And, too, there was the matter of the awakened Toreador Disciple. One did not wish to offend so easily when one could instead cajole.
Giving a little laugh, Shay leaned into Iza for a moment. "Oh stop. You do not like my work better than all of this, surely?" For there was quite a lot of artwork on display. He rather liked the idea that Izaiah did prefer his work, although consider what his subject matter had been for the past year, he supposed that it could be vanity at work. Iza might like looking at himself better than at all of these strangers. Though not every piece of art was to Shay's taste, either.
"Mmm... you do so much for me," he admitted, leaning over to give Iza a kiss on the cheek. Some lipstick smeared on his skin, and Shay withdrew a handkerchief to dab it away. Oh dear. Well... he didn't totally mind Izaiah wearing his lipstick, but they were at quite the event. "You really don't have to." Even though he liked it. He had to admit that he was feeling spoiled in all the right ways.
"You know I like dancing with you." Always. And Shay liked drinks just as much as the next vampire. He didn't mind grabbing one. "Well... if you like, I can wear one of my clubbing outfits when we get back home," he offered. Admittedly, the skirt he wore when he went to the club was shorter than this one and showed off his long legs. But the dress was beautiful.
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Posted: Sat Jan 20, 2024 9:53 pm
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While the deity certainly felt a distinct disconnect from the mortal world and all of its intricacies, there was one with whom he had connected in a way that seemed almost impossible given that separation between them. One divine, the other not. One was oppressed by the weight of expectation and the other was free to roam. One was once bound by familial tethers that drew him away from mortal pleasures and temptations, the other was able to indulge in any pleasure or vice he saw fit without the threat of punishment. One who required mending of the heart, essence, and mind. The other unwittingly became the mender. Two very different beings brought together by circumstance and a cruel Deities wicked game. Dracian had filled a void in Grendel's existence, like mortar filling in all the fine fissures that grew and compounded and grew more. Instead of allowing the God to break, Ravnos had saved him.
The love that formed between them did not start tenuously. It was as strong and immediate as two final pieces of a puzzle clicking together. The burning passion of desire they held for one another had not died down in the slightest since, though their ever-growing family seemed to be proof enough of that. Even that brush of lips against his lover's skin was enough to stir up an ache of longing in his chest and a heat in his belly that was mirrored in his intense gaze. If the deity had it his way, they would not be participating in this evening's festivities overly long. But he would let Ravnos be the attendant to decision-making in that regard. He was the one who knew about these sorts of things. How long was long enough to meet the expectations of his followers and whatever rules of cordiality might exist?
But for now, there was business to attend to. With so many Disciples gathered in one place, together, it made what he desired to do much easier. He had come with something of a surprise for each who attended. A gift, of sorts, to show his appreciation for their efforts.
One last squeeze was offered to his partner, a glimmer of something almost mischievous in his eyes as the Toreador Disciple approached them both.
"Caius." His voice rumbled, a sound that seemed like it should shake the very paintings from the walls, though they instead stayed firmly in place. His gaze shifted toward the ancient, extravagant vampire, a slow smile coming to the God's lips that did not quite seem to meet his eyes. Visible signs of warmth or mirth from Grendel were exceedingly rare to those outside of his family, but he gave a polite nod of his head.
"We are well." He replied, speaking for both himself and Ravnos. It was well that Caius restrained himself at that moment, for if he had followed through with a more European-style greeting, the God might not have known how to react. The bow was met with faint feelings of amusement, and a wave of his hand as if to brush off the formality. "That is not necessary, but...ah." His brow furrowed slightly at the compliment the Toreador offered. Smashing? Chuffed? Neither sounded particularly good out of context, but the vampire said it with such enthusiasm that the God decided they couldn't be bad. Besides, who would be stupid enough to insult him, or his chosen partner, to his face?
Certainly not Caius.
His expression smoothed over, "Thank you." His smile widened, a flash of teeth, unnervingly long and sharp, before he spoke again. "I trust you are doing well in your new position?" He offered the question, but it was rhetorical. Of course, Caius was doing well. If he wasn't, Grendel would have seen to it that the vampire was given a swift demotion. He was a present, visible, and active leader of his clan.
"I admit, I would rather not spend too much time exchanging pleasantries. I have to make a few rounds tonight to check with your fellow Disciples, and I have promised Ravnos a dance before the night concludes." A glance was shifted in the other Disciple's direction, and for just a moment a hint of amusement was present in the Deities burning red gaze.
"So I will make this quick." His attention turned back toward Caius fully. From the floor, the shadows beneath his bare feet continued to writhe, though now they began to coalesce, shifting to a space just in front of the God on the floor, forming a perfect circle so dark it appeared more like a pit. From within, an object began to rise, pushed up from the shadows.
A femur bone, darkened with centuries of age. The Shadows rose from the floor to hold it suspended in front of the ancient Toreador.
"A gift." The bone seemed to whisper to Caius, words that he could not understand no matter how hard he strained to hear. "One of several of our ancient artifacts I was able to discover recently. This one you may have heard of. It is the Femur of Toomler."
It was clear that Grendel expected Caius to take it, and extend gratitude for the...'gift'.
Uta Congratulations! Caius has received the Femur of Toomler. Supposedly from a fourth-generation Tzmisce, this bone has the power to cause aggravated damage when striking another vampire. You may add +1 to any damage in a battle RP against another vampire. This artifact has unlimited use during battle, but has no extra effect on any other supernatural being. If your attack misses, no extra damage is incurred for that turn. You may have this item added to your vampires official shop art if you wish, but must contact a shop colourist and request for them to do so (or if you are a colourist, you may add the item yourself). The colourist reserves the right to say no to the request at their own discretion.
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Posted: Sat Jan 20, 2024 11:25 pm
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Ashrad was not one prone to fear. Not in life prior to his brutal embrace nor in the unlife that followed. The path he'd tread had always been a fine one. Those he associated himself with were the most dangerous sort, and this was a fact he'd always known. He did not concern himself with such things for a very long time. Even when they'd turned on him. Even when he'd fought back and the punishment was doled out upon his body. A lost arm. A lost eye. He'd accepted both with nothing but honour and conviction in his heart. No fear. Never fear.
But what Ambrogino requested from him was not something to take lightly or deal with in any type of flippant manner. The information was... sensitive, to say the least, and incredibly specific. It had required research on the Banu Haqim's part. A lot of research and a lot of time and experimentation. Considering his enemies, both within and outside of the clan, Ashrad had needed to be incredibly careful. If any wrong person learned what he was doing, it could very well mean final death for the Methuselah. So yes, in this place, with so many high-profile vampires, he knew he needed to be careful, and exercise extreme caution.
Leaving would have just been easier. Leaving was still a very viable option. It was the plea from Benny that stayed him, in that moment. Well, not just the plea. Ashrad had taken stock of him. Not just his appearance and immediate demeanour, but there was something else. Something in the quiet determination of his gaze. Something in how he set his shoulders. Something in the way he smelled, the scent of him still cloying in the back of Ashrad's throat, in a most enticing way.
If Ashrad had any vice at all, it was for the blood of others. Spilled. Felt. Tested. Tasted. Experimented on.
Utilized.
The cruel smile faded, and Ashrad sat back in his chair, appearing almost relaxed though he hardly ever was, leaned back, arm slung over the back of the chair, one leg bent at the knee while the other shifted and straightened in front of him, his foot propped on the heel of his boot. The mesmerizing glow of both of his eyes, real and fake, burned into the vampire across from him. He sat in silence as if mulling over the words.
"She is your master's Sire." He said of Constancia, though Benny had not asked. The Giovanni was surprising in his rapt determination. "And I imagine she would love to find out where her dear childe is hiding. Best hope the voices in her head do not point her in your direction."
And yet the Ancilla did not seem to care. Interesting. He was obviously in deep with Ambrogino...yet Ashrad knew the Antediluvian well. The b*****d son of Augustus cared for nobody but himself. At least, that was how it had always been in the past. Benny was not the first loyal lapdog Ashrad encountered in that regard. The Methuselah was sure he would not be the last, either. Still, he also seemed more persistent than most. For that, the Banu Haqim would at least give him some credit, and perhaps a little more time.
"Well then, I am listening. Tell me what it is you think I could want from you."
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Posted: Sun Jan 21, 2024 9:23 pm
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If Mithras was aware of Armistice's thoughts he might have reminded him of the many Kings of history long past that had been on the eccentric side. Several were even downright mad, and madder still the longer their reign endured. Mithras scoffed a laugh at the mention of debauchery. "I believe the term you are looking for is fun, Armistice. Just because these modern-day Ventrue all have sticks up their asses doesn't mean you needed to bend over and willingly accept one too." But asking the Justicar to lighten up and enjoy unlife was like asking a Nosferatu to put on a little makeup to hide their disfigurements.
It never went over well.
And here it came. A final warning. The urge to roll his eyes was immense, but the Methuselah managed to keep himself from doing so. However, when the Justicar straightened himself so did Mithras, standing to attention with a faintly bemused smile on his lips and a cold look in his eyes. He took another sip of his wine while Armistice spoke. When he'd finished, the Ventrue lowered his glass and cocked his head to the side slightly. "Is that so? Hmmm...You know what always fascinates me? The Council's absolute obsession with figuring out 'what I'm up to'. Corruption lies around every corner, inside every nook and cranny of the Camarilla, and yet, it's always me. What about the Prince, hm? What about our Sheriff." At this moment, Mithras gestured toward the vampire himself, Micky, who was leaning against a table by a wall, stifling a yawn.
"Do you believe for a second that either of them aren't involved in illegal activities? Hell, go to an underground fighting pit any day of the week and our oddly attractive sheriff will be there. He just loooooves to get shirtless and greased up and grapple with the other scourge of this fair city. Or, so I've been told of course. The idiot doesn't exactly do a good job keeping it secret."
Mithras put his glass down on the bar now and smoothed out his jacket, practically mirroring Armistice's actions. "Now, how about some of that fun you've been missing out on. Fancy a waltz?"
Seeing the Cappadocians had unnerved the Methuselah slightly. His past involvement with them had gone on for quite some time and had left several lasting emotional wounds. Perhaps that was why the dance was offered, as a distraction and nothing more.
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Posted: Sun Jan 21, 2024 10:39 pm
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The dramatic Disciple was more than pleased to be acknolwedged by the Vampire god, and could only smile with genuine pleasure. While all the Disciples were linked to the god, there was certainly a genuine intrigue and pleasure that came from the colorful vampire.
It was his bane, his obsession, the muse that tittilated every Toreador when struck by a thing of great beauty. There really was no being as utterly fascinating as the red-haired god... and once again, Caius could feel his fingers twitch with a desire to paint, to sculpt, to capture the absolute essence of Grendel.
If only he and Ravnos would stop by for a painting. Or two. Or three hundred.
But he was here now, gracing them all with his illustrious and terrifying presence. Those fangs, the power of his voice, the knowledge that he could turn them all to dust if he so wished it... Caius wasn't usually impressed with power, but even had he his exceptions. If only Ravnos would humor him for a bit of gossip....
"If I wasn't doing well, I'm sure you'd have long corrected the failing," he replied with with a smile, eyes gleaming with amusement. He was well aware he could be replaced -- but he had every hope to stay in Grendel's good wishes. Only a fool would think themselves equal to such a creature, though he supposed Ravnos would be the only one among them to eveer dare.
"But of course, darling-- I won't take up a moment longer of your time than necesarry. Do, go on!" He encouraged with a fanged smile all his own. He would never be as powerful as Grendel, or as favored as Ravnos... but a Toreador was nothing if not eager, especially when it came to shmoozing with high society. And you couldn't get more high society than Grendel.
Turning his gaze upon the shadows that begna to form upon the floor, there was a growing anticipation in the air. Oh ho. It was.... It was....a gift. A bone. It took all of Caius' willpower not to immediately lift a brow or pull a face because, while he was grateful for this gift, it.... A bone? For... him? ""Ah, yes, quite possibly the femur among all femurs," he quipped. His smile never wavered and he looked over and admired the floating bone... before looking back up at the God before him. He was certainly grateful for this artifact, grateful the God had thought of him for this... delight... and yet....
The femur surely would have gone better being returend to the Tzimasce, or given to the Cappadocians and those who relished the macabre. Wouldn't it? His two-toned gaze danced between the bone and Grendel, and he reached out to take the bone. "Ah! You do me great honor. You shouldn't have... I see bone will be the newest fashion craze this year, thanks to you."
He'd need to ... clean it up, or at least give it a pop of color. Bone brown was hardly inspiring, but he'd find a way! Giving another flourishing bow, he smiled. "I thank you for your thoughtfulness, and hope you enjoy the rest of the party. Tata, darlings, ciao -- don't be a stranger!" He waited for Grendel to give him leave to go before stepping away.
Well. Besides being a study in shadow and light, he'd have to find some way to make the bone fit his wardrobe.
Perhaps decay would be the newest Spring Fashions
Seussi ((There you go! Kind of handwaved him leaving so you don't have to go through those parting motions. Thank you both! I'll edit in this lil' bone and keep this information handy. n_n Caius is grateful, truly. Don't mind his..surprise. He'll make this fashionable one way or another!))
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Posted: Mon Jan 22, 2024 1:02 am
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Ravnos was well aware of Grendel’s disconnect from the mortal realm and those who dwelled within it. But despite that, despite their own vast differences they had found one another. As the old saying went, opposites attract. They had walked very separate and different existences in this world. While Ravnos was given freedom upon freedom the God had been kept on a short leash. And yet where they had ended up could not have been foretold by even the most keen of Phuri Dae. The Disciple was only happy to be that bridge for his partner. To assist in helping him navigate all these intricacies he didn’t quite understand or grasp. Grendel was literal, logical. Ravnos could read between the lines. Being a creature of deception himself it was easy for him to niggle out hidden or double meanings to things.
But these differences did nothing to quell that fire between them. While yes they did have their misunderstandings from time to time, things were generally smoothed over quickly. Neither could stay upset with the other for long and they carried on as passionate as they had ever been. That passion could never be replaced, would never falter. It had not slowed or simmered. It blazed from the very first night and only grew as more time went on. There was no one else for the Disciple. Who could compare to his greatest love? His devotion to Grendel went beyond God and Disciple. He may have saved him but Grendel gave Ravnos purpose.
He paid no mind to the colorful words the Toreador Disciple bandied about. The artist was as flamboyant and colorful as the rest of them. The purest embodiment of his own clan.
There were many misconceptions about Ravnos himself that floated about among the other clans. Some he fostered, others were wildly untrue and he ignored. One was that he could be quite aloof, perhaps even a bit disconnected from the world around him. A facade that he encouraged heavily. People were most willing to be themselves and elude to their true intentions when they thought you were not paying attention. But Ravnos perhaps paid more attention than most. He noticed everything. The tone in one’s voice, chosen words, the subtle movements and micro expressions that others thought they could hide so well. Just because he wasn’t looking at you didn’t mean he wasn’t aware. While generally good natured he didn’t get to where he was by being a soft touch either. There was a reason the other clans typically avoided him and his clan all together. And the loss of their precious items was far from the truth of the matter. You didn’t ******** with him and you didn’t ******** with his clan. This was something well known long before Grendel had come into his unlife. No, his clan was feared far before any perceived notion of favoritism. He had stories, jokes for days, they could all laugh and giggle and have a good time. But a monster simmered beneath the surface just waiting for a reason.
He noticed perhaps a bit more enthusiasm coming from the Toreador as he approached and spoke. The way his fingers subtly twitched. It was no secret that Grendel was quite desirable, coveted by some. A worthy muse for any Toredor. How could he not be? Powerful men were always as such. But Ravnos was no jealous man and he was not insecure in his relationship. At the end of the day it was he whom the deity returned home with. Let the Toreador pine.
Another misconception was that he fancied himself an equal to the God himself. A silly notion. He knew and understood who and what his partner was. And while he got away with more than most he knew his place. Where the line was that he should not cross. He respected his role as the God of all vampires. Just as Grendel respected his position as head of his clan. When it came to their roles they both respected one another enough not to meddle. Which was one of the reasons he remained silent as the deity went about his work this evening. Even as close as they stood together there was still a tightness, an ache in his chest that desired more than just the subtle touches they exchanged in this moment.
When a glance of those striking red eyes flickered his way he smiled. Charming. Tilting his head ever so slightly. The ornaments that still adorned his hair chiming and clicking against one another. It only grew at the notion of a promised dance later. So he was considering it after all.
His glowing green gaze flickered to the circle of shadow on the floor as the object began to rise from its inky depths. A dark eyebrow lifted as the bone slipped from the darkness to hover in front of the Toreador. Eyes flickering to the other Disciple’s face but the look on Ravnos’s face remained good natured. Caius seemed…..surprised. Unsure what to make of this gift that his Deity had bestowed upon him. The Disciple himself had to admit he was unsure of Grendel’s intentions with this particular artifact for the Toreador but he must have had some idea behind it.
When the other Disciple finally scampered away he shot an amused look at his love. Waiting until the other was well out of ear shot. “Cheeky, Dragul meu.”
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Posted: Mon Jan 22, 2024 10:57 am
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“I would suppose that depends on what your idea of fun is, Mithras.” Red eyes lidded halfway in tempered amusement. “What you see as fun is most certainly not my idea of fun.” A pale eyebrow raised at the mention of having a stick up his a**. It was no great secret that Armistice was just like any other Ventrue. Mithras was a mystery, an enigma even among the oldest of their clan. At least, in the Justicar’s experience anyhow. He had never met anyone within the clan quite like the Methuselah.
And oddly that intrigued him. To a point.
Lips parted as an exasperated sigh pushed between them as he listened to the other male. Well, half listened. It was the same story as always. Mithras was never at fault. Never to blame for his own actions. His decisions. He was the victim here. Always. The Council was just out to get him. His own urge to roll his eyes was building up but he refrained. He was too controlled for that bit of childishness. Armistice waved a hand in front of his own face, wrinkling his nose in distaste. He hated it when Mithras tried to distract him like that. He was well aware of the filth and corruption that plagued the Camarilla. “The Council knows I assure you. Just as I can assure you I am not the only active Justicar. They will get theirs soon enough.” His gaze flickered only momentarily to the Sheriff who seemed bored beyond belief. Perhaps his gaze lingered just a little longer than he had anticipated before it snapped back to Mithras. “No one keeps pet Brujah around for their brains, Mithras. You know that.” No, they were kept for their muscles, their brute strength. And sometimes their prowess in the bedroom but that was neither here nor there. Armistice was well aware of both those aspects. But he was no fool to believe that they were innocent. In his eyes? Everyone was guilty of something. And they all deserved punishment.
“If you think you are something special to the Council to garner their complete and undivided attention, my friend you are sorely mistaken. You are nothing more than a name on a very long list of names. You just happen to be the flavor of the moment. Once you are convicted it will be on to the next.” His voice was very matter of fact. In the end Mithras was just another assignment. Another problem to be dealt with in a long list of problems. But he wasn’t the only problem that the Justicar was dealing with at the moment. He had his eye on several others.
If the presence of the Cappadocians bothered the Methuselah, stirred old feelings within the ancient vampire the Justicar paid it no mind. He wasn’t here to worry about them or Mithras’s connection to them. Though he had known there was some connection there, he just didn’t know the depths of it. The offer of a dance that came next caught him off guard. He blinked, gazing up at the other with a puzzled look. Armistice had not come to this party with any expectation of having fun. Let alone dancing. But perhaps, deep deep deep down inside there was a part of him that wanted to. One little dance certainly couldn’t hurt, right? “Fine. I suppose I can afford you one dance before your eventual end if that is what you wish.”
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