Your OC Is At A Party With The OC Above

this sounds like a fun thread, so.... let's go. >:)c

edit: not really a character change, but... this might make things a little more interesting?? Brown is meant to be human, but I'm posting as her urban legend tab since it may be helpful in inspiring your character's behavior around her in your response. feel free to look at this tab and her other tabs for more information!!

finally, someone fucking kicks her ass like she deserves.

here's.... a follow-up.... potential cw for animal cruelty/violence, though it's nothing too graphic, nor does it actually happen?? it's mostly a metaphor about her squishing ants oops- also a cw for implied murder, but alas... Brown doesn't care about dying at this point... *pensive*

Otto always tried to be the best. He tried to host the best parties, in which the best food and drink would be served, and the best servants would bustle around in their workplaces inside, away from the sprawling gardens which one could easily get lost in without an escort. The party-goers were spread out across said garden, dotting clearings and grottoes walled by rose bushes and thin trees.

The twin suns were beginning to set, basking the small lake in a warm glow, aided only by fireflies flickering over the water. Standing by the water, next to a glass lantern, he gazed ahead with... a bizarrely cold expression, not at all the type he would use to greet his guests, one hand balling into a fist and his other tightening around the stem of a half-full glass of wine. But, then he heard footsteps. He took in a deep breath to recompose himself and turned to the sound with his signature gentlemanly smile. As he looked over the newcomer, admiring him for a minute, he inhaled again, and spoke softly, "I don't think I've seen you before... You must be a foreigner. One of my wife's men, yes?"

He grabbed the end of his cloak, pulling the fabric closer over his body, all the while he swished his drink around within its glass. There was another pause as he studied I'sen, before laughing and commenting, "Though, I think you're far too handsome to be one of them. Too handsome indeed. My dear wife, I care for her so, but pretty men don't seem to like her!" He considered himself one of those pretty men, of course. "I don't see her often. Maybe now I should go to check on her." He added, waving his hand. "But, she prefers to be with her other husband, I think."

Otto walked closer to the man, studying his face. It was then that he lost his smile, though he didn't frown again. He sipped on his wine, going silent.

No. No, he would have known the amount of men Sable was to bring, and he already met the four she had.

After the pause, he chuckled, and then said, "I don't think you're from there, either. You're not small enough... But, nevertheless, I hope you're enjoying yourself. It isn't every day one has a debutante, though I wouldn't want anything less for my eldest girl. Melantha is..." A bitch. "She's a spirited young woman. It makes wanting to marry her off become an ever-increasing desire, though of course she needs the right suitor for that the happen. And, her being a fan of... war stories, I find that a tournament may be appealing to her on that front. A strong, wealthy young man would be best for her."

He had his doubts, of course. Melantha was nothing like her two younger sisters, and not even like her brothers. She was a spiteful little creature, and so he was convinced that she was born to loathe him.

"..It should start soon, actually." The nobleman murmured, as he reached an arm out towards the other, "Would you care to join me on the way back, dear sir?"

FOLLOW-UP TIME. oh ace i am so fucking sorry you have to deal with him but. ... he's staying.

Despite the earnest smile on his face, there were multiple beads of sweat rolling down Ace's face. It was his first day off in ages, but he ended up getting called in by one of the cafes due to them having to cater for a big outdoor party. It was a fancy one, he had to admit. Lots of decor, lots of flashy outfits, lots of politics, lots of plants, lots of sun. Thankfully he wasn't part of the wait staff so he didn't have to walk around in this heat, he got to stay behind one of the tables and make people coffee if they wanted some.
Nobles, aristocrats, politicians, anyone rich, they didn't seem too amused by his latte art, honestly. By the looks they gave him, they were more irritated by the longer wait time. But anytime a journalist or such got close boy did those faces light up! It was... pretty discouraging, honestly.
Then, of course, there were the choice looks he could feel aimed at him every few seconds. Ace gulped, staring intensely at a particularly uninteresting cup as he tried to ignore looking at the man sending him such looks. The minute he'd seen Otto he wanted to hightail it out of here. The guy was fine, don't get him wrong, he was just... Well... No, okay, the guy creeped him out a little. And the love in his heart was already skewed! There was no reason for Ace to intervene! In fact, a LOT of the people at this party were like that!
Ace cursed under his breath when he noticed a figure stand in front of his table. He looked up, smiling brightly and happily as he exclaimed, "Otto! I'm so glad to see you!" The perks of a cupid like him was that he was a good actor. He thought he was, at least. "Honestly, I'm really happy to see you here. You're the only person I recognize that's not part of the staff! Makes me feel like I know a real celebrity," he laughed while rummaging around for glasses and ingredients. He nodded in agreement with whatever Otto said before setting down a clear glass. "Here! It's fresh mint iced coffee, a perfect beverage for a hot day like today! Plus, I added a couple mint leaves since you enjoyed chewing on them last time we met." He pushed it closer to Otto, his smile twitching. "It was great getting to see you again, but a guy of your status should probably make the rounds with other important people, right? People would probably think it weird if you spent the entire time talking to staff."

Elliot wasn't the type of person to attend the same parties that the cafes were catering to. But this time he only did it to get the firsthand experience of how his catering business really worked. It wasn't his idea in the first place to branch off into catering, but rather it was the business side of his bakery/cafe that demanded that they should be serving outside of the store. And Ransford, who was usually tired towards the end of the day didn't want to pester himself or to come up with an explanation as to why didn't want to.

And so he was out there, in a fancy - tailored and fitted tuxedo that Chanse demanded that he should wear to the event. In fact, Elliot's husband was more than excited for him to wear this unnecessary outfit. To make things worse, he brought Emery into the ploy and the idea of Elliot being in a suit was already an automatic 'yes' from her. And the two of them got them a bespoke tux within a matter of days just so Ransford could wear it.

He didn't bring any friends or family. He was just there for business purposes, in order to get any opportunities to branch out. But Elliot, as satisfied as usual, didn't think it was necessary for him extend his business anymore. At this point he was making making small chatter and short-ended conversations before he'd withdraw behind the table where a familiar cafe employee, Ace, who was taking part of the catering. With the type of people around Ace, it would be rather nerve-wracking for him. Hell, it was as nerve-wracking for Elliot as well - he just has a bit more experience of hiding it better than others. 

"Would it feel better if you served a cup of coffee to a man like me?" He lets out a gentle chuckle, "Show me that nice latte art that you're so proud of."

Taffy didn't consider herself a partygoer type of person on a good day. Despite her social struggles, providing for others was somewhat of a priority for her- the responses she got, the people she'd meet, the rapport she'd gain within the community without having to show her face- or, god forbid, talk to people. However, when invited to the same type of gathering she made a point to plaster her name all over, she found it hard to decline. She was kind of a doormat, all things considered, completely unable to say no to anything offered to her. She had a bad enough reputation as is, no use ruining it any further. 

She was a fine host, but she left a lot of leeway for her attendees. They were always casual events, no specific guidelines for dress or purpose, so she didn't worry herself over it. Simple. Being on the other side of the glass, though, put her on edge. Floundering, unaware of the social conventions required to not make a complete ass of herself, she'd retreated to the corner. It was a safe place, somewhere to watch the attendees, analyze their actions, maybe replicate them later- fear of failure, however, kept her nailed to her spot. She sighed, swirling her drink in its glass, almost comically small in her hand. It was a lingering reminder of just how badly she stuck out like a sore thumb. It was impossible for her to not draw attention to herself, but she tried nonetheless.

Elliot's approach sent a jolt down her spine. Whether it was out of fear or just shock, she couldn't be bothered to tell the difference. The contrast between them was almost comical- Taffy, shaking like a purse-dog, crossing her fingers and hoping that no one noticed her presence, and Elliot seemingly at ease with the situation. The kind of composure she wished she had, but could never quite muster. Despite not wanting any eyes on her, she couldn't help but stare, locking onto his every minute mannerism and filing it away for later. When he inevitably noticed, though, the nerves returned in full force. A quiet "eep" escaped her, carding through her bangs with a quivering hand.

"I, uh... Hello?" His face was vaguely familiar, but she had no clue where she'd seen it- maybe at work? He seemed like the type to harbor an interest in specialty meats. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. "Are you, uh... What's your purpose here? For- For being here, I mean! Nothing weird. It's just... You seem like you know what you're doing."

[MICROWAVES THIS]

   - fdhgvdfvhj Taffy is so sweet tbh?? I actually really like the weird but still relatively wholesome dynamic she has going on with Fitzgerald- :")))

As much as parties proved to be a guaranteed sense of saudade for Fitzgerald, the youth seemed to be perfectly at home as he leaned against a marble column and carefully adjusted the ostrich-feather ruff wrapped around his neck. In all honesty, it made him look quite comical, but he thought he was the bee's knees - as per fucking always. He wiped at his nose for a second before turning to face the mignyan standing nearby, though far more isolated from the rest of the partygoers than himself.

"You know, you always came off as a rather shy fellow," he told her with a raised brow, "which sort of stuns me as to why you agreed to the invitation in the first place." He sprinkled in a haughty laugh before waving his hand aside. "But that, of course, isn't a bad thing, you know! You're quite interesting, in spite of those weird eyes and teeth. And..." Fitzgerald paused for a moment, if only so he could give her a surprisingly tender smile.

"... I have to kind of thank you for taking care of me there a while back, when I got lost in the woods and kicked my own ass like that."

Just recounting the memory was enough to make the aristocrat chuckle gingerly as he held a hand up to his mouth, though the gesture didn't last for long before he extended it out so that both parties were now focused on the people just beyond their reach.

"Obviously, I didn't exactly want you to be here as a guest," explained Fitzgerald further with the slightest hint of nervousness, "I know that you're not the type of individual who really likes these types of gatherings, but..." Another chuckle, after a short pause. "... I heard about your cooking, and I did at least want to give it a try after all the ruckus we've both been through." He shrugged haphazardly before picking up a scone and eyeing it carefully. Then, he took a bite out of it - no questions asked. Adieu, asshole, if there were any crabs in there.

Fitzgerald blinked for a moment, then offered the mignyan another smile, one that almost appeared a bit too eager. Apparently, he had asked for her to bake a bunch of chocolate scones for the sake of this party, and he sure wasn't regretting it at the moment as he anticipated the next opportunity of taking a bite.

"Maybe next time I should just ask for you to cater, but not to attend," the man joked, "but at the moment, it seems that people like your food. Interesting, isn't it? I can't help but wonder if you spend your free time perfecting your food, miss... It shows, regardless of whether that's the case or not."

time for. a follow-up. be careful what you say, dear Fitz- *pensive*

She and her husband found parties to be a necessity. Perhaps not as much so as those the Alkaevs hosted, but to tend to alliances, it had to be done.

Lacie trekked through the crowd. This party was a relatively small one, but loud nevertheless, and upon Flavio's request she retreated into the dark, quiet halls of the keep, though she would eventually climb the stairs to the inner balcony overlooking the feast. Alas, she wouldn't be alone here. She realized this the moment she crossed the archway and she found the slender man leaning against a marble column. She approached him slowly, her voice a weary rasp.

"You seem lonely," she remarked, "Though, not in the way you would rather be there."

She cast a look down towards the gathering, the corners of her mouth curled into a frown. She couldn't see neither her husband or her son from this angle, though she could faintly hear their voices chattering away. The smell of lamb meat hadn't faded, at least.

"If it's any consolation, you could always be somewhere else." Lacie told Seung-Cheol, continuing to wait for any sign of her family. "Sauveterre is prettier, though the people are more... fictitious, I assume would be the correct word, which isn't to say the people here aren't. It's just that my family has never appreciated artificiality, and I suppose we pick up on it quite well. I hope that it's the same for you." She waved her hand before placing it onto the railing. "It's a fine skill, to notice another's deception."

She fell silent again as she watched the party continue on, forks and knives clanging. She wished she was down there, but she was told to wait for it to end, and wait she would.

She blinked slowly, before bringing in a deep breath and speaking to the other, "There is a spare library down this hall where... where my husbands keeps the 'less important' books, as he calls them. So, if you think they would offer you anymore entertainment than this..."

strange old woman tries to draw a pear but is interrupted by a strange old man.

Clever tricks and forged papers, that's how Roswell managed to weasel himself into this party. A garden party, held in the yard of an enormous mansion. It held two greenhouses that each grew a different kind of spices, vegetables, and even flowers. A house that could afford a garden full of heavy smelling flowers, was a wealthy one. Roswell's attention was focused at the end of the garden. A calmer place with fewer guests. Easier targets. Roswell dusted his old cloak. He made his way over to the far back, his tophat politely hold in his hands. Just like he predicted it, way calmer and way more distracted people who's purses almost dropped in the old thief's lap. But for once, he didn't focus on the money, or riches that were pluckable like ripe fruit, no he saw her. A rich lady. But hardly remarkable. The other guest seemed to ignore her too, and when Roswell stepped a wee bit closer, he discovered why. She was..drawing? And not like kids would do with crayons and thin paper, the lady was sketching the small round pears that hang right in front of her. The pear trees we're planted and grow in such a way that they arced over the pathway and the bench the lady was sitting on. Her fingers we're black from the graphite and her lips were pressed in a concentrated line. She hardly noticed Roswell that set down beside her. He peaked over her shoulder, followed every line that she drew with interest. His admiring finally got noticed and when the lady looked up, Roswell smiled. Busted and as innocent as possible. "Naw! No, go on, " he encouraged her. "Oi didn't want to disturb yer flow. Oi wud 'ate ter see dat 'happened, " he said. Inching a bit closer when the lady picked up her pencil again. "Did yer know day oi like pears?" He said. Breaking her concentration for a second time now. When she looked up for that second time, he smiled again. "De name is Roswell by de way, oi came from far, " he continued. And wasn't noble, but he seemed to skip that part in particular. Then he nodded at the drawing. "Yer should sell dat to de pressers-clerks, " he said. "It would be great for advertisement, " he continued giving the lady that had introduced herself as Lacie, some unasked 'free' advice. "Or de newspapers, " he'd continued. "It would be a waste to see such talents fade without yer earnin' some 'are nickles with it, " Roswell said with a laugh. Of course it was all about the money for him, not for a chance that this woman could make a name for herself (even if she had to use  a false name to earn it-). "Oi won't longer disturb ya, " he said before carefully getting of the park bench. Not noticing that Lacie tried to get back in the flow of things for the third time, he said: "but oi'e 'eard they are pourin' sum cider in front av de garden, pear cider if oi recall roi, " Roswell said. Please, let that woman draw in peace for 2 seconds, I'm begging. "Do yer want a glas madam? oi can git yer wan if yer loike!" 

--

Roswell had bid arms folded behind his back while occasionally missing to Bryson's words. "So, sprung, are there any places that are like.. Calm?" He asked. " oi 'ave a massive headache, " he lied while placing his hand on his forehead, "so maybe if Oi can lay low in a chamber, full of valuable stuff and no other people, or can recover a bit, " the thief said.

"Ugh, this is so boring."

Aiden was not quite a party person. If anything, he would much rather avoid going to any, often scowling and expressing his disgust upon hearing of one. He was not quite sure why he chose to accept this one, but he believed that it was worth a shot.

This party felt like the average high school party to him, if not, a tad more downgraded compared to his expectations. There were a few adult chaperones that littered the room, which he did not mind. He spent most of the time leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

Then, he saw him: Bryson Hayes. Aiden never expected to see the rich guy here. As he glared at him intently, Aiden tapped his foot on the floor. He never really had any personal opinion about the richer kids; Aiden viewed them as normal people. Personally, he felt like he was kind of in that specific area; his mother was a manager of a bakery while his mom worked as a secretary at an office. He has his fair share of money, but that is mainly because he's frugal with it. His mothers, however, were often out vacationing outside of the state.

This man was much older than the scrawny teenager; the 18-year-old person towered over the 6" boy. He could almost mistake the man as a 21-year-old, but either way, Aiden felt a bit intimidated by him. Aiden wanted to say something, but decided not to. He felt embarrassed, both by being present and by how he stuttered.

After he realized how long he was staring, Aiden turned around and walked deeper in the building. He would much rather search for and sit with the younger children and animals than continue to awkwardly watch his peers.

   - hell yea..... I'm down for an enemies-to-acquaintances (or perhaps even enemies-to-friends) arc for these two... I'd love to see them interact more often on forum games too tbh- ^^

Smithson, of course, saw parties as less of a means to enjoy himself than a means to an end... A political end, to be more precise. His eyes scanned the rest of the guests like those of a hawk, while various servants scuttled about as they attempted to serve each and every fellow's needs. He knew it was impossible, out of his reluctant adherence to rationality, but... It had to be done, because that was their job, and he couldn't afford to just have them loiter around all night.

Speaking of guests, the aristocrat was very careful in whom he invited. Walker always badgered him about it, given that he was supposed to be the organized one - sticking to a specific schedule and list to a fault. And want to know what one of those faults was?

Allowing a potential awkward encounter to slip through the cracks.

He hadn't thought much of the dragon's name - Zynphodius - when going through the list of potential guests (and if he had seen it before, he likely forgot about it), but now that the drake was here in the flesh, Smithson was seriously thinking of just retreating into the corner and pretending that he had never made such an oversight... Not a fatal one by any means, but it was still pretty inconvenient nonetheless. However, as the middle-aged man took a sip of chilled red wine with a shaky hand, he was well-aware that the cost of snubbing a potential political ally was much more than humiliating himself in front of the deity. Besides, he had already done it once. Surely a repeat occurrence wouldn't kick him in the ass too hard?

And so, he approached, as he coughed in the other party's direction before asking coolly, "So, I hope this party isn't too much of a hassle for you, yes?" Part of Smithson wanted to joke about how the roles were now reversed, but... That was kind of a shitty analogy, and he knew it. "Least of all because it's hosted by me, but," he grunted while gently raising his cup of wine - almost like an offering, "Even then, it's quite different from what you're likely used to back at home. I don't... Normally invite folk outside of the region, but I suppose that your status is too high to ignore." Wall to call yourself out there, asshole.

"Which brings me to my next point," hummed the aristocrat as he took another sip, "I'm sure you're only here for scouting out potential political allies, right? If so, then would you be interested in a negotiation later on? Not at this very party - of course - but I can schedule a meeting for us if you so desire. I know we didn't exactly start off on the best terms, but I wouldn't mind amending them, if you get what I mean. I think an alliance between us will be helpful, given that the people in my region aren't very... Aware of your existence, but they are of mine. Think of it as a way to expand your influence, I suppose..."

and.... the drama continues. in a follow-up. :)c