EVENT #011

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone on Earth in Meadowlark's world.
WHERE: The Aerie, a different world.
WHEN: Late July 2512.
WHAT: The first log of our AU event, taking place in an AU world that puts on battle royale events to cull the massive overpopulation.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Overwritten minds, horrible dystopian conditions, and more!

> EVENT #011

On the morning of July 26th, every living person on Earth will be spirited away from where they were mere moments before. Just like that. Hover cars will descend slowly in transit, trains will come to a stop without a screech of their breaks, and the streets throughout every single of the 104 megacities will be left barren, empty, and lifeless. Even those lost and hidden, not seen for months, are swept gently away with the rest of their brethren. No stone will go unturned.

The world upon their return may pick up where it's left off, or it will be changed in some way. Will it be July 26th when everyone finds themselves back where they were standing before? Or will something else happen during this time? Now that the supposed lifeblood of this planet is gone, what will happen in their absence? The world may not be able to go on how it had been.

Perhaps the more terrifying question is this: if something is powerful enough to steal away every person, every single one capable of thought, ideas, conflict, war, and more, what else could happen?

Perhaps it's for the best that it may be awhile before anyone has to worry about that.

For now, they've entered a world that's one week away from its next Quarry event: a place where The Aerie's criminals fight to prove they deserve to keep their life.

> THE WORLD ENDS WITH YOU (THE AERIE)

The Aerie is a structure that should not exist.

Made of steel and concrete, it gives off the impression that its guts were arranged haphazardly, as if an amateur surgeon had pulled them out and tried to put them back in again. Steel beams stretch out between buildings, connecting them together. There may have been a wall of concrete around this beam once upon a time, but it splintered and fell away, exposing its insides and opening up a pathway that people have taken for granted in the past fifty to a hundred years. Power lines hang in loose tangles throughout this little world, ready to fall away at the slightest breeze, then splinter and spark.

Most of the insides of The Aerie are barely preserved. Trying to do that would be an impossible task: there are too many people, too many who live in concrete layered on one another like stacks of broken shelves, too many who pass through open maws of ruptured pathways, crawling up onto the roof of a business for what they think is a shortcut to a higher level. Brittle walls that splinter off into clouds of chalky white dust are everywhere and anywhere.

How The Aerie came together was once a majestic feat: a place for people to live, thrown together as extinction surged forward like a towering beast on the horizon. There was a mix of minds behind the action, as well as a hollow sense of desperation. Even those who brought The Aerie into being knew that their lives were on the line. It was a matter of "make this work" or die. So, they made it work.

What's truly impossible about The Aerie isn't the hulking structures merged together at all manner of impossible angles, but the outer layer of this little world, looming overhead in shimmering, constant glory. The people of The Aerie are protected, safe; the world outside is a nebulous, uncertain mess of greys and greens and reds and blues. Storms surge just outside of the wall of The Aerie with sharp, constant bolts of lightning that batter the surface overhead. Once upon a time, the people of this little world feared those bolts cutting through and destroying their home. But it's been long enough now. No one lives in fear of what's outside, and no one wonders, not anymore. After all, the people who made it outside were never seen again. For a time, some people could watch through the clear walls as these escapees' bodies turned to irradiated mush with only bones left behind. In time, those bones withered away to dust. And with them, their memories were forgotten.

Within The Aerie, life goes on, just as it must: riddled with fear, with survival often depending on the ability to escape notice.

Only two parts of The Aerie remain unscathed, untouched by the passage of time and haphazard construction of this refuge:

The Volary, which stands tall and pristine at the heart of The Aerie. Lights burn within The Volary all day and all night, showing signs of life that most of the people outside of its walls will never see for themselves.

And then the Quarry, a structure built in haste and out of necessity. The same people who brought The Aerie together also made the Quarry. At its base are a series of office buildings, setting up monthly arena events where the guilty fight to show that they deserve to survive.

These two things are the source of all the fear in The Aerie. It's what keeps everyone's mind off the crumbling walls, the storms outside, and the miserable, unending passage of time.

> SOAK UP THE GLORY (THE VOLARY)

When The Aerie came into being, so did The Volary. Far from fragmented like the rest of this tiny, tiny world, it stands pristine, with brown bricks lining its exterior, and strong steel beams holding it strong within. Either through its making or its care, The Volary hasn't suffered from the hands of time like the rest of the world. Anyone outside of The Volary doesn't know the truth, though they could likely guess.

Inside of The Volary lives the members of Parliament: the newly-joined Magpies, the comfortable Rooks, and the looming and most powerful, the Cardinals.

The Cardinals live at the very top. Even after over two hundred years, the Cardinals remain impenetrable. New members are accepted into their ranks from time to time, granted secrets of a bygone era, but the rest of the world remains ignorant to their knowledge. At the heart of this structure is a cult, a belief system; they are the ones who decide if The Aerie lives or dies. For now, it continues to live. Of course, any other path would lead to their devastation as well. They may be nearly immortal, but they aren't truly untouchable and eternal.

Beneath them are the rest of Parliament, cocky in their comfort. Many were born into it, but some were raised into the ranks, finding their own footholds. Sometimes these elevations seem random; sometimes these promotions happen with purpose, with someone driving to catch the eye of a Rook who's looking for someone like-minded to have around them.

Outside of the Magpies, the Rooks that were once Magpies, and the once-members of The Congregation outside, everyone seems blissfully ignorant of the dilapidated world outside. There are some workers from the outside world who know, and some Carrion lucky to have their place among the elite—but there is a sense that some things shouldn't be spoken about, or else they may need to be responsible for it all. While the outside begins to age without any sign of renewal, this compound lives on—untouched, unbothered.

The Volary is set up in levels. The very bottom is where all the businesses that serve the people up above are located. It's where animals are raised and butchered, and where food is prepared before it's brought up to the upper levels. There are numerous common areas, but these can be rented out for any whim of any members of Parliament. Even the businesses themselves can be shuttered for the day, with preferred chefs invited to the upper levels to prepare meals to deal with these circumstances. (Someone from the Congregation can train as a chef in the Cotillion, even if they've never handled food of this nature their entire lives. It's a good job to have, as a number of favored chefs have been elevated to Magpies.)

Beyond the shops is the first level of living quarters for the various members of Parliament. Many Magpie and Rook suites are side by side, though some Rooks prefer not to be housed next to a newcomer and have made their preference known throughout the years. These suites are designed and adapted to its inhabitant's every need, and if someone is born into the family, they inherit their family's suite once someone dies. How is it that there could be space for all the members of Parliament, and so little room outside of the walls of this compound? Consider that yet another question that members of Parliament don't need to concern themselves with.

At the uppermost levels are the suites belonging to the Cardinals. Unless explicitly invited, no one is allowed onto these floors. Numerous Carrion have died throughout the years because they wandered up the wrong set of stairs, knowing that risk was looming over them.

And at the very top is where The Conclave meets. Newly elected members of Parliament visit this room once to receive their powers, only they recall nothing. No one knows what happens within the inner walls of The Conclave. Some have attempted to spy throughout the years. Needless to say, that didn't go well.

The Volary is the home of the pampered, the rich: the people who can ignore the dying world beyond them. Even those inheriting a sense of importance feel as if they've done enough—when they clearly don't do enough. At least those stuck outside may find themselves walking through the heavy front doors of this compound one day. Too bad it's based upon the powers of Parliament, and whether they deign to let someone inside. The only good news is that someone can be buzzed in via their power. That gives a real personal touch, right?

> NO WAY TO LIVE (THE CONGREGATION)

Outside of The Volary, The Aerie is set up in sectors, these sectors acting like rings that move further and further from The Volary up and down throughout The Aerie. Almost by necessity, the rings closer to The Volary are populated by Parliament's favorites. The upkeep around here is better: not pristine, but far from as bad as it gets as someone travels to the outer sectors. Many who have made a name for themselves in the Quarry live in these inner sectors, close to the people of Parliament. Many believe that the inner sectors are still tended to because members of Parliament would hate to face up to the fact of their world dying, and it may not be far from the truth.

In addition to better upkeep, the inner sectors experience less Shrike patrols, with the people allowed to live a life that allows them to remain ignorant to the world around them. They may not be Parliament, but their life in these sectors affords them the feeling of comfort. They don't have to fear their ceiling caving in; they don't have to fear a pipe bursting at an unfortunate moment; they don't have to fear wrongful arrest because they looked at someone the wrong way. It takes a lot for those from the inner sectors to have their lives ruined—but it's not exactly impossible. Of course, this is also where The Cotillion is kept, with numerous buildings and dormitories maintained for its students.

The further and further someone goes away from The Volary, the more life within The Aerie becomes difficult. The worst part is this: no one knows any better. They know the crumbling walls, the faded and peeling wallpaper, the revealed steel beams. They know the frequent Shrike patrols. They know that if they commit a crime, it's on them: they deserve whatever comes their way.

How does someone work in order to get by in these outer sectors? They can help man the bars, because drinking is as much a way of life here as it is back in the regular world. They can help upkeep of The Aerie. Someone can easily enter a trade alongside their compulsory schooling, especially if they aren't special enough for Cotillion training. Electricians are needed throughout. Maintenance of trains is needed throughout. Plumbers are needed throughout. And rations? They come by way of processing plants connected to hydroponic farms. More than a few times throughout the years, these plants have suffered breakdowns, and there have been ration shortages. But don't worry: Parliament continued on eating as if nothing changed outside.

Rations are given out three times a day through numerous rations checkpoints in each sector. These rations are like tasteless protein bars: enough to provide someone the meal they need, a bland mixture of carbohydrates, protein and fat sprinkled with essential nutrients, and little more. Attempts to make them more flavorful throughout the years have failed. Badly. It's probably better that they're bland little morsels. The good news is that they're filling. That may be the only good news.

Life isn't all misery and pain, even if job prospects are largely unfortunate if you're nothing special and the food is literally nothing to talk about. There is a thriving popular culture within The Congregation. There are numerous television shows and movies depicting the distant past, or even a brighter present: one in which the people of The Congregation managed to come together and make their lives better. Oddly enough, these don't tend to act as propaganda. They're just badly written, but done with an eye on hope and perhaps a better life. There are sports and games, though no official leagues have started up, almost certainly because they would compete with the Quarry for airtime.

Members of the Congregation are able to travel anywhere they like within The Aerie thanks to trains, with the only sector the train lines don't access being The Volary. They can peer down over the city, seeing a blurry line of grey all merging together, with people living their lives as best as they can. These trains go near the surface of The Aerie, too, granting someone a close up of the world outside, and reminding them that life could be much, much worse. It could be gone altogether.

> SO SHALL IT BE (QUARRY PREPARATIONS)

With one week remaining until the next Quarry event, preparations continue within The Company's headquarters. Located at the base of the arena out of necessity, The Company's offices are pristine and lifeless in nature. White walls, white ceiling tiles, and white chairs: nothing varies from anything else. How does it remain so surgical at all times? One can only wonder.

Numerous Quarries are being prepared at any given moment, with the televised sensations planned months in advance. Some plans are scrapped depending on competitors. Given the recurrence of Snipes, there are moments where plans need to be changed, where tension needs to be brought in. An arena designer may have to scrap his entire vision for a backup plan.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—The Company is a well-oiled machine. Need some crunch time to make sure a Quarry event is ready on time? The underlings at The Company are used to working long, long days to make it work.

The Quarry this time around is unknown, though there are suspicions of what it might be.

As for those waiting to enter the ring: they're free to live their lives, but many of them are undergoing talent training and preparation for the big event. They're going through interviews, getting sized for any costumes, and being asked to tell their stories. Some of the Snipes may be more than ready for this, while the Guineas will need to figure this out for themselves.

> A WILL TO FIGHT (THE KESTRELS)

Littered throughout the Congregation is a group that's been budding for a while. As much as this world is all they've known, there are some who believe that they deserve something better. The Quarry is unfair, and all throughout the many sectors, there are signs that The Aerie is breaking down and dying, barely keeping it together. These are people who may be afraid, but want to fight despite that fear.

Some of them have made themselves known: bearing a tattoo of a kestrel where others can see. Others hide who they are, but they're waiting. Planning. They strike when they can, but they know that time is running out. There are tiny safehouses throughout, typically through hatches underneath small local businesses that are sympathetic to the kestrels themselves. These people aren't members, but they put themselves at risk every day to protect this movement.

So, they have their sights set on this upcoming Quarry. It's time to bring change to The Aerie—or die trying.

> GOALS FOR THIS LOG

Either through talking ICly or OOCly, we'd like to have the following goals outlined and submitted to our comments below:

What is the Kestrels' plan in all of this? What do they intend to do?
This can include trying to find and meet with Prometheus, just as a note! Overall, we'd like an idea of what they'll be attempting with the upcoming Quarry so that we can work it into the next log.

What is the theme for the next Quarry arena?
We'd like to have some idea of a theme, as well as some submitted puzzles! We know that we're the kings of Vague Ass Puzzles, so feel free to be vague. We just want to give our Quarry participants something to look forward to.

Are there any other factors we need to consider?
Parliament upheaval? Plans to find out what Parliament is doing? Anything else that might come to mind? This is more loose!

We're giving a loose deadline of DECEMBER 7 with the next log going up on DECEMBER 12.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to part one of our year-end AU event! We meant for this to be primarily be a description log to start play, especially since we feel that most of our critical information is in our Planning Post. We suggest that you do any necessary planning there for your select crews there, as well as use the "DM" system on Warbler for private stuff.

Of course, our questions thread is still open.

Since it's come up in the past: since all characters are in the AU, please feel free to do a catch-all post of anything you might want! Flashbacks! Anything open prompt-wise! Go wild with this stuff. This is always available during events, but we wanted to be explicitly clear here given the nature of this event.

As for mod-run social media, we have a post here on the network where we'll be steadily adding things throughout the event!

Our November Activity Check goes live on DECEMBER 1. AC for the month of December will be check-in only. It's a weird holiday season, but it will undoubtedly still be stressful for all of us.

Our next reserves will open on NOVEMBER 23 and our next application period will open on DECEMBER 1. We intend for all new or returning applicants to be kept outside of the AU. We have a special plotting opportunity and NPC ready for this scenario to help people integrate. However, if you have a friend who's apping to tap into the AU, let us know—we're not 100% married to our plans, but we worried about any new players apping into such a convoluted scenario after so much plotting has already taken place.

That's all for now. Have fun and for those of you who celebrate, have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[gossipkinesis]

[ How well-matched they were, he catches onto to what she's suggesting without having made a suggestion at all. While the drinks were weaker than Margo preferred them, it was not too warm but they did have to be careful, her father had eyes and ears everywhere.

It had nothing to do with shame or a concern for her reputation, at least not on her side of things, it had to do with the fact she wanted to keep something for herself, for once. Nor did she like her vulnerability exposed.

Oh, yes, her father would not be thrilled with someone of his pedigree. She would be a part of a very advantageous match, should she marry. Someone like Booker was fine to have a little fun with but if her father had any idea of it being more serious... Margo wasn't sure he'd like that very much.

However, she's not so naive to think that her father hasn't figured out some kind of connection between them. In fact, she's almost sure of it. It's becoming more and more obvious and her father knows her better than anyone. She may be masterful at deceit but the air between them is electric even now, the heat of want palpable.

At his suggestion, she glances at him, her lips quirking just so, happy to tease a bit longer.] You're not enjoying yourself?

[livrer]

[ Sébastien's smile is light, an echo of hers. ]

Well, I've tried the food, had the wine, talked a little politics, taken a few photos. It was — very productive.

[ And it feels like a job. It's a job he's more than happy to be doing if it keeps him moving on the up-and-up towards his greater goal, but he also can't deny that his priorities seem to have altered since he'd met Margo. It should be worrying, him losing sight of that zeroed-in focus that fueled him to get this far within the Volary in the first place, but the world feels different. The growing anticipation of the upcoming Quarry seems only to heighten that feeling.

He pivots a little to face her, meeting her eyes, and — hm. There's that electricity, right there, all without a single touch. ]

Besides, I can think of better ways to enjoy the rest of the evening.

[gossipkinesis]

[ Margo has always been wary of hangers-on, those who seek to use their connection with her to find success, to make a name for themselves or find a way into the company of her father. And Margo has always been quite good at sussing out who she'd let use her (most of which, she did not but not before she had her fun first).

Sebastian had taken her by surprise if she were to be completely honest.

There's a pull from the center of her very being, calling her to touch him or better yet, kiss him. And she resists it, just barely, her eyebrow raises slowly instead, a smirk playing on her lips as she plucks a piece of food from a passing waiter's tray.] And what ways are those?

[livrer]

[ Even Sébastien couldn't deny that when he and Margo had first met, neither of them expected for their relationship to play out the way that it has. He'd been looking for someone to gain favour with in hopes that their connections would grant him an eventual audience with a Cardinal. And it was no secret to anyone that Margo was the daughter of a particularly high powered Cardinal, but back then the idea of an emotional attachment seemed laughable. She used him as much as he used her; it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, a transaction.

Somewhere along the lines, however, things had started to shift. She isn't the only one surprised by it, but not all surprises are bad ones either.

He breathes in, eyes only on her, watching the way her lips curve into a smirk, teasing, well aware of the effect that she has on him, before she's putting one of the party entrees into her mouth. Sébastien breathes out, swallowing.

He almost laughs to shatter the tension, but he holds himself in check; difficult to do when he's standing next to someone who could metaphorically set him aflame with the barest movement. ]

As though you don’t know, hm?

[gossipkinesis]

[ There's that tug again, the one pulling at her soul and her physical being, the one that sends a shiver of anticipation and delights down her spine at the mere memory of his mouth dragging along her skin only this morning.

Her eye flutters just a little, a tell if there ever is one, that his words are affecting her. She takes another sip of her drink, pretending that it's meant to wash down whatever it is she just put in her mouth, but truly, it's just something to keep her mouth from colliding into his.

Still, she uses words, that if overheard, would simply be interpreted as a flirtatious conversation or a prelude to a meaningless tumble instead of the reality of their situation. A quick, meaningless tumble had turned instead of hours, days spent together, learning each other in every way.]

My father might notice my absence. [ She lifts her glass to obscure her mouth in case there is someone reading her lips. It is not paranoia in this place, it is simply playing good defense.] We cannot be gone for too long.

[livrer]

[ Functions like these ones have the effects of a double-edged knife, raising the tensions but simultaneously prohibiting either of them from making any kind of public play. Such are the complications of the game they've found themselves in, a funny irony considering the reason for tonight's festivities, of which he still hasn't checked the socials for news and names of this year's participants. Not that he's likely to recognize any of them, he's left that life and most of the people a long time ago. He'd been a little wrapped up in other affairs today, anyway. ]

It'll be a moment. [ To catch their breaths out of obvious sight from watchful Cardinal spies, to kiss her once — and render her breathless again. ] A bit of fresh air.

[gossipkinesis]

[ To be honest, for as much as Margo supported their way of life, for as much as she towed the company line, she did not care much for the Quarry and the games. Sure, she watched them and made bets along with everyone else in Parliament but she did not relish in death even if it was deserved. She also has other affairs far more interesting to be wrapped up in and one of them stands before her now, urging her against her better judgment to go with him.

A moment to breathe, to escape prying eyes.] The usual routine? [ She asks as she takes a drink, knowing the drill. She would leave first, stop to greet whomever she saw before slipping away to their secret meeting place, a small enclave near a rarely visited garden, close enough that they could get back to the party quickly but far enough that drunken party-goers would not stumble upon them.]

[livrer]

[ Sébastien nods, humming a sound of confirmation. Promise.

With some reluctance, he moves to step back fully as though the two of them merely had their moment to mingle with each other, as any regular party guests might, and now it was their time to move on to others at the party. Continue the rounds, as it were. ]

Have a good evening.

[ He reaches out to gently graze her arm with a finger, just a casual touch, just because he has to, and then he waits for her to take her leave. ]

[gossipkinesis]

Right back at you. [ She says befre moving the opposite way, glancing up at the sky as if she was measuring the time. It was part of the act, of course.

She takes her time. To rush is to be obvious and to make mistakes. Her father taught her better than that. Patience had never been her strong suit but in this instance, it must be had.

Slipping away from the party takes some time, she stops to talk to two people before she's out the door, telling them that she is heading back to her rooms for a costume change. It was her excuse each time. It wasn't unusual for Margo to attend a party only to change clothes mid-event. She liked to show off and her vanity was well-respected in the city.

A few times, the excuse had been used so that she might fuck someone quickly before they both returned to the party. And that was how it had been with Sébastien the first time: a quick, passionate romp, a change of clothes and back to the party.

Now her vain and hedonist habits had worked in her favor. Because no one seemed to bat an eye when she slipped out of the party and made her way to where they were meant to meet.]

[livrer]

[ It's easy enough for Sébastien to move through the rest of the room towards the doors, pausing every now and then to briefly greet a familiar face, share a quick drink, and then he's off. Very few pay attention to a Rook who came from nothing, whose business has always had an air of mystery to it, sometimes an air of suspicion. And it wouldn't be untrue anyway; he'd taken a lot of shady gigs, done some shitty things to get to where he is now.

But having had Loki grant him patronage to his current rank worked in his favour. The Cardinal was already unreadable as it was; even he sometimes had trouble deciphering him. No one thought to question the connection when like must have spoken to like.

And now, as he exits the party, wanders through the gates and out into the gardens, no one pays him any mind, not even the Carrion he passes along the way.

The short distance he travels from the hall to their meeting spot is brisk; efficient. And when he spots Margo waiting for him, he wastes no time to pull her into his arms. ]

[gossipkinesis]

[ There was a time that Margo wouldn't be caught dead with someone of his status. Yes, he was a Rook same as she but he was not born into his title, he was not of her social sphere. She had a Cardinal's blood running through her veins, she was destined for greatness. All her life she'd been told so.

So she acted accordingly, taking whatever and whoever she wanted for her own pleasure and amusement, discarding those who wouldn't help her keep her father proud.

No doubt her father would admonish her for this continued liaison. Except it was so much more than that. And when she catches sight of him, it takes all she has not to come out into the dim light of the courtyard and pull him to her. Instead, she waits until he gets to her, in the privacy of a pillar, and pulls her close.]

Fuck, that was torture-- [ she murmurs as her hands move to cradle his face and she draws his face towards her own, stealing the kiss she'd been craving all evening.]

[livrer]

[ After hours of tension and, yes — torture; being forced to remain calm, composed, and not constantly be scanning the large hall for the other, the kiss they share in the shadows of the garden's structure feels especially well-earned, especially charged.

He holds himself close to her, as close as they can be for being two people instead of one, kissing her like a drowning man coming up for air.

And when, quite literally, he has to come up for air, he breathes in — satisfied. He rests his forehead against hers. ] —it really was.

[gossipkinesis]

[ Once their mouths connect, her hands drop to his waist, joining him in his quest to mold their bodies as close together as possible.

And it's not until both of their lungs start screaming for air and relief that the kiss breaks. It leaves her breathless but does manage to take some of the edge off.

She wonders when it will end, when it will stop: the always wanting him. Letting out a low laugh at his words, she lets her eye fall shut for a moment.] I thought I might explode when you whispered in my ear, you tease.

[livrer]

[ Sébastien smiles, lifting his hand to gently graze the line of her jaw with the kind of softness that might seem so contrary to the way they'd just kissed each other mere seconds ago, so frenzied, so feverish. ]

I know; I'm horrible — I like seeing your face flush like that.

[ If there is an expiry to their relationship, he isn't sure what he'll do. He hadn't expected to fall this hard, but it's impossible to think of any other direction they could have gone now that they're here. ]

[gossipkinesis]

[ It's those touches, the soft, tender ones, that make her heart race, that confirm that her heart is beating solely for him in these moments. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

She looks up at him, her expression is soft (and vulnerable) in a way that it is with a very small sphere of people.]

I'm too obvious.

[livrer]

[ Oof, and the way she looks up at him now, it could slay him too — but more than that, he's grateful. He knows how strong and sharp she is, how she could shut someone down with a single look, could cut someone with a quick word. Not everyone gets to see this side of her, and that he would be one of them is an honour.

(Of course he adores the sharpness in her too; it's what had initially attracted him to her, that she could tease him and wasn't afraid call him out when he was being stupid.) ]

Only because I know you.

[gossipkinesis]

[ There only a few that know Margo well, the rest must see her as all hard edges, a rose but with plenty of thorns. She's worked hard to cultivate that persona. And there is truth to it, she is not great at being sensitive and open with people, more often than not she is a snob who can lack empathy. That was how she was raised, after all.

But in quiet moments such as these, with Booker, she has to wonder if she's inherited something from the mother she never knew, a softness she's never really seen from her father. ]

My father also knows me, [ she murmurs softly, a word of warning.] And if he were at the party... I need to do better at schooling my expression but you are too-- [ She drags her lips along his jaw] damn tempting.

[livrer]

[ His expression tightens ever-so-slightly.

She's right, of course. The only reason this relationship has been left to them, and them alone, is because (as far as he's aware) they've managed to maintain a sense of discretion. Quiet and controlled. He isn't sure how much the upper members of Parliament know, or quite frankly how much they care, but Sébastien knows it would still be unwise if they slip up. It could cost what they have. ]

We'll be more careful.

[ He closes his eyes briefly, relaxing again, and tilts his head to bury his face into the crook of her neck, pressing his mouth against her skin. ]

How long do we have before your dress change?

[ Because of course he knows how this goes, but in the spirit of exercising further caution— ]

[gossipkinesis]

[Her main concern is her father finding out. No doubt, he has ambitions for her to make a good match and further their family line at some point. Sébastien's lineage is not the sort her father would be keen to mix with his own.

And then there's the press and social media, she has appearances to keep up, favor to garner. A part of her power is making others think she is desirable, that she might be available in every regard. And if she went exclusive with someone...]

Since I didn't leave with anyone? Probably about ten minutes before I need to head that way. [ Her hand moves to slide up the back of his neck and into his hair.]

You could always come and help me change dresses. [ What a fucking reckless suggestion. He could easily be seen along the way to her rooms but still, she suggests it all the same.]

[livrer]

I could. [ He would want nothing more, can think of a couple of things they could do before and while said dress change — but it doesn't escape him that he might be seen, too.

Not a problem if he were just one of many of Margo's party-flings, but the shape of their connection has changed for both of them, has likely caught the eye of anyone who might care or who might relay that information back to those who do (namely Stephen Strange). Not concerning him, of course, because he was an insignificant Rook, but about the woman in his arms who held a very powerful legacy in her hands.

He drops a kiss onto her shoulder, teases at the delicate fabric there. ] I'd like nothing more than to get this off you.

[gossipkinesis]

[ He'd like nothing more but she knows what words would come next, should come next. He can't. He's being responsible when all she wants to do is be reckless. Fuck this place.

She lets out a dreamy sort of sigh, one that's also a little petulant.] I know... we have to be fucking good.

[livrer]

[ Sébastien nods. ]

We do. [ He agrees, which doesn't mean they can't do whatever they want tomorrow, or the day after even if they might both want it now. He lets a hand slide down the length of her arm, and then rests where a swath of sequins and beads hang off the curve of her hip before it becomes the rest of her dress. Easy enough to hike up and gather the material. ]

But we still have ten minutes. [ Beat. ] Nine now, maybe.

[gossipkinesis]

[ If it were any other evening, it would be easy enough to slip into her rooms together without being seen. But whenever a party or event was happening, it was too difficult to predict the comings and goings of other people, especially drunk party-goers.

The dress is very hike-able, to be sure.

Her hands slip beneath the fabric of his jacket, sliding slowly up his back, nails pressing against the fabric keeping them from his skin.] That we do. [ She tugs him close again to steal a slow, lazy kiss.]

this about to get nsfw;

[livrer]

[ He leans into her kiss, now feeling a little constricted in his jacket and wanting to feel more of her skin beneath his hands. Most days the party garments are fine, a symbol of status and ranking within the Volary, but right now they are too tight, the stitches like bars of a cage.

He guides her backwards, still kissing her, until they find a particularly convenient pillar to lean against, shrouded in enough shadow to keep them both hidden from view of casual passersby. His mouth doesn't leave hers until his hands find places along her sides to roam, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck, to find the part in the folds of the thin flowing fabric of her skirt and run a hand up the length of her thigh. ]

bowchicka

[gossipkinesis]

[ She has to agree with the sentiment that while their outfits are gorgeous and serve a purpose if she had the choice right now, they'd both be rid of them. Her heart starts to race when he shuffles her towards a pillow, an excited breath escaping her lips when her back hits it.

And when his mouth (and hands) start to wander, she lets out a soft sound, akin to a moan.] I can't decide which I love more, your hands or your mouth.

[ One hand leaves his back to find the back of his head, encouraging his mouth's pursuits while her legs part further to encourage his hand's pursuit. Basically, she's very much greenlighting all of this.]