this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
[attr="class","diag"]It wasn't often that Eleanor attended this type of events. Well, it wasn't often that she was invited to this type of events, really. Back in her youth, perhaps, but ever since she left that life behind and moved to Eclipse Town, where little happened, and even less happened without the entire town finding out, the time she allocated to such manners of entertainment was greatly reduced. Until now, it was nonexistent. It wasn't unwillingness that kept her away, though, but rather lack of supply. Eclipse may be a beautiful, thriving, lively place, but no one knew how to throw parties like they did in Sundial.
Her long cocktail dress swishes and swashes in a sea of people just as elegantly dressed. Darkness against emerald and black. Fingers, decorated with nail polish as dark and elegant as her dress, gratefully accept refreshments from the many waiters and waitresses circling around the large hall—St. Andrews Hall, the only venue grand enough in Eclipse to host a party as beautiful and squandering as this—while she maneuvers around and makes idle chat with people she hardly knows. A Leviathan hidden amongst Silvertongue witches.
Not like we're here to spy, anyway. She was under no order of her coven's; and either way Leviathan and Silvertongue, it was conventionally understood, had a silent agreement not to meddle in each other's business, unless it was a matter that affected the other.
When the recital is announced, Eleanor doesn't waste time waiting for the group she'd be chatting with to catch up. With a courteous "Excuse me, ladies, sir," and a short bow, she's already gliding towards the makeshift stage. She catches a glimpse of Brunhilde, sweet Brunhilde whom she managed to bribe into bringing her along by offering to babysit her two children the following week, walking hand in hand with a man who was remarkably not her husband, in the same direction. Guess we know where Bru went now, she comments, only for her familiar to hear—think.
That's when the angel starts to sing.
No, not an angel. At least she doesn't think him an angel? Him? Her? It? Did angels identify as any genders? Eleanor is enthralled by the singer, whose voice was as beautiful and angelic as their looks. Their—his. His, probably. Although he looked as androgynous as when her eyes first settled on him minutes ago, there was a certain lack of curves to his hips that made him look more male than female. If she was wrong and the angel identified as anything else, she could always find out later, after asking.
The recital took her through moments of sadness, of pain, of hope and love and heartbreak. Eleanor was unsure of whether the singer used magic to enhance his voice or not, but it was a beautiful display regardless, and she did not hold any amount of enthusiastic applause back. There was no point in denying the beauty of beautiful things; and, though she had no personal experience with spellsinging, she was certain that even manipulating one's voice and others' perception required great skill. He looked so young, too.
Young and talented. His skill was, no matter how she saw it, something to respect and admire. Both actions she fully intends to execute as she makes her way to him, his figure quietly retreating from the stage. "Hey," she calls after the singer, and she catches herself on the verge of calling him Angel. She fights the almost instinctual urge. "That performance was beautiful," she comments, praises. She's still in awe and wonders if she shouldn't have summoned a some flowers to offer to him. "Beautifully sad."
The woman silently wonders if it reflects his own feelings, but figures that's no question to ask as part of an introduction. "I'm Eleanor," she offers, extending her hand. Smiling that warm smile she always uses when addressing anyone younger than her, anyone that reminds her of youth. A pair of golden bracelets clatter from the movement. "Do you often deliver performances like this?"
Eclipse Town was not a usual place to frequent for Roderick Adler. Yet, here he was purely for professional reasons. He was invited (and heavily endorsed to take all requests) by a party in Eclipse Town. A gathering of the elites to enjoy themselves with only the best entertainment. The atmosphere of the party was different than Sundial, that’s for certain but it had its charm. Drinks were passed around, and the hall was lavishly decorated. This feel, this aura in the air is something that Roderick knew well. Elegance, luxury, though they were all around him in a suffocating manner Roderick felt as estranged as ever. He was merely a harlot’s son, surrounded by whores and false affections.
He would not be given such opportunities if it weren’t for his looks and voice. He was just lucky or if he called it: most unfortunate.
Taking care to look over himself one last time before he went on stage. He seemingly glides upon the floor long cream colored robe almost trailing from behind from how long it was. The light bounced off the golden filigree that decorated the robe. He was dressed as an entertainer, and he certainly looked the part. Roderick took a breath, closed his eyes, and began to sing. His routine wasn’t extensive, but Roderick’s skills and song choices were always chosen to stick with the crowd. He was that beautiful phantom that haunted your dreams, lingered in your consciousness until you saw him again. People tended to weep from mixed emotions at his voice, and it was difficult to ascertain if he was working actual magic or if it was just raw talent.
Afterwards, when his bewitching voice had stilled and he was finished he left but didn’t get too far when a woman spoke to him. He turned to face her, blue eyes showcased with long eyelashes, and supple lips daintily pursed. It was a compliment, not uncommon, but he took it graciously. On the inside, he was hollow. Words were merely sounds and noises from one’s mouth. He didn’t need to take every compliment to heart so much to the point his head filled up with hot air. “An entertainer needs to bond with their audience. I’m glad you were stirred with emotion at my performance.” His smile was practiced, and faintly warm, but he had taught himself a long time ago to look the part.
Her assumption of his true feelings would’ve surprised him by its accuracy if she said it.
Eleanor. He reached out and shook her hand and with his own manners took her hand upwards so he could kiss near her knuckles. “Roderick Adler, Lady Eleanor.” Though Roderick spoke like a poetic gentleman, there was little to gain from doing so. He was not wishing to bed her, but merely to impress. Part of the trade you see. Word of mouth and experiencing his voice was imperative, especially for monetary gain. …not for him though, but for Silvertongue. His innards boiled, just thinking about it caused a momentary twitch in his free hand.
“People like to form conclusions with songs and their feelings. Each is different. That’s part of the charm of being a performer. Everyone has a different reaction, but it would betray my personality and views if I went with more generic and superficial performances.”
Post by Eleanor Afolayan on May 17, 2017 17:21:47 GMT
[attr="id","bouquet"]
@rodie
baby i can see your halo
[attr="class","diag"]Roderick doesn't seem all that happy with Eleanor's compliment, which she guesses must be one of the downsides of being so talented. He smiles and accepts it with all the grace of a true angel, which was really quite convincing, but she's struck with the realization that it must indeed be very sad to be so used to compliments of the sort, to the point they don't fill him with a happiness so great that he can feel like he can take over the world. How long has he been living this way? she wonders sadly. A young kid like him needed hope and the desire to take the world by storm.
She's pleasantly surprised when she finds him offering a much more respectful, much more glamorous greeting. Although she's not used to it, Eleanor smiles at the display. "What a gentleman," she comments. "My own husband would not be found kissing my hand as way of greeting in a hundred years. You'll have to refer me to your etiquette instructor, see if they can do anything about that giant panda of a man." The smile she holds has turned conspiratorial, though there are actually high chances of the man in question doing anything upon her request.
Eleanor nods appreciatively at Roderick's insight. She can understand; art was so beautiful because it was subjective, and the variety in viewpoints enriched any one piece of art even further. This understanding doesn't, however, completely distract her from the silent, between-the-lines suggestion that the emotions of the performance were part of his own. If there really was such sadness shelved somewhere in his heart, Eleanor wanted to know. She wanted to make it better, just as much as she wanted to make any and all of her sweet daughter's wounds better.
"Let me tell you I, at least, appreciate your decision. I don't think I've ever been so moved by a performance. Though, that might in part have to do with your outfit." Her blue eyes glance down at the golden-trimmed robe he's wearing, before returning to look at Roderick in the eye. "Has anyone mentioned you look like an angel with that toga on? I'm sure more than one have." It was every bit as elegant and blindingly beautiful as a grand scale performer's was meant to be, but in that moment Eleanor couldn't help but compare it to her own child's during her first school play.
A gentleman's way indeed, Lumin mused within his mind. Roderick's eyes narrowed just briefly, acknowledging that proud, well-mannered tone. Her words though, did give him some form of further amusement. She was married, and Roderick pictured a gruff but good-natured man being her partner in life. "And yet he makes you happy. That's what matters does it not?" At least, that's how he viewed marriage. A person wouldn't be with another for so long if they didn't respect thier faults and shortcomings and celebrate their positives and strengths. He did appreciate her joke though, it was nice to see a person with natural humor here.
But that also made him have the assumption that a person like her wasn't a usual patron to these sorts of environments and fits of fancy. She was far too down to earth for this crowd who would spit pretentious poetry at the simplest of things. Roderick did however, brighten up honestly when she praised his abilities. There was something about it that wasn't so plastic and transparent.
When his outfit was mentioned, Roderick instinctively looked it over from the sleeves to all the way down. It was a very beautiful garment indeed, though Roderick was a fan of more classic, simple clothing statements than one so eye catching. It was a trait he learned a long time ago. The true prize is what is underneath. You don't need frills and expensive things to look fetching for someone. "Plenty." He answered, even just a single movement in the light ignited every golden thread to reflect its light. There was little means of him escaping anyone's attention with this on for sure. "To be frank..." He pauses, as if cautiously restrained to let out a single genuine thought bubble out from his mouth. He takes that risk anyway. "It's unnecessarily hot." He finally admitted, trying to air out the collar so it wasn't too bad. It did little to alleviate it.
"You know, I've never seen you at my performances before. Is this new for you?"
Post by Eleanor Afolayan on May 18, 2017 13:58:24 GMT
[attr="id","bouquet"]
@rodie
baby i can see your halo
[attr="class","diag"]It occurs to Eleanor that Roderick's parents must be quite proud of him. Not only was he educated—a true gentleman, and she would argue with anyone who dared claim otherwise—and extremely talented, oh no. The young man was also privy to the one of the greatest secrets life had to offer: happiness trumped all else.
"Indeed it is," she nods, the brightness of her smile refusing to leave her face. "He makes me the happiest witch alive. Those are wise words you speak, my dear. Pity he couldn't be here, really." She stops herself before she gets into a long and possibly very boring laud for her husband. She also stops herself before she can reveal too much. A Helios Knight attending a Silvertongue event, and one such as this on top of that, would likely be seen as a personal affront to members of the latter. Even a virtually retired one as him.
Her eyes follow the light reflect here and there and everywhere on his outfit, appreciative. She looks up just in time to catch Roderick's hesitation, making her feel like she was going to be let in on a well-kept secret that no one else was supposed to hear. It was an odd feeling, something she remembered from her schooling years, and she still feels decades younger when she nods encouragingly at the singer.
A soft, light giggle bubbles out. Out of all the outrageous things she was imagining, his outfit being unnecessarily hot was the last one she expected. Though, "It does look unnecessarily hot," she agrees. Eleanor scans the room warily, before she allows her next words to materialize. "Didn't you bring any other clothes to change into? Surely our kind host didn't expect him to be dressed up that way for the entire evening." Eleanor truthfully had no idea if the party's host was actually kind. She'd never met him or her. It just felt like the polite thing to say.
While Roderick's confession came as a bit of a surprise, albeit an understandable one, Eleanor definitely did not see his next words coming.
Oh, shit.
Had she already hinted at too much? What was it, out of everything she'd said, that made him arrive at that conclusion? There was a reason why Eleanor was never given espionage missions: she was way too good-natured and talkative for her own good. Shit, she mentally repeated. This wasn't good at all, and she hoped the nervousness she felt didn't flow over to her speech or the small laugh that followed her words.
"Believe me, I'm terribly disappointed to have missed any and all previous performances of yours," she begins, trying to buy herself time, considering to what extent she could be truthful without rising anyone's suspicions. "Yes, you could say I'm new." She pronounces each word slowly, enunciating carefully, attempting to measure every piece of her admission. "I'm here accompanying a frequent patron, however. Perhaps you'll know Mrs. Jónsson?"
She was such a bright woman, eyes gleaming with a happiness Roderick seldom had himself. There had to be a key to this successful sense of self and worth. Perhaps after he accomplishes his own goals he'll be able to pursue happiness that makes your eyes shine and smiles come easily. When another can make you look this way, bring color to your cheeks and life? Well, it seemed like one of those unattainable dreams. Sometimes he sang of love, but there was always a bittersweet ending involved. He didn't feel worthy serenading an audience about love when he hadn't experienced it for himself. It would be nice to meet the object of her eternal affections though.
After his little secret was revealed, she laughed and asked if there was any chance he had a different set of clothes. If only, he thought. His eyes tore away briefly, many thoughts swimming in his mind. Truth be told, the hosts were always sketchy. Not exceedingly hard to read, but a misstep in error could be costly. Before he could comment on the matter there was another of where she came from. She did explain that she was new and the name made Roderick open his eyes up a little more and his eyebrows rise.
"I wouldn't have assumed you came with her of all people." He chuckles, whether he believed her or not the tale was rather funny with what he knew of the woman. "She's been pressing me for relations for what feels like an age. It's barely hidden. Her infidelity is almost legendary. You'd think with such a good-natured woman like yourself she would've changed her ways." And he laughs then, crossing his arms over his chest in the meanwhile.
What Eleanor did not know is that the woman she identified had no female contacts that she liked. She saw women as a threat, like her poor husband couldn't look at one lest he receive her wrath. And yet she could dabble with men all she likes. Such were those vindictive women types. She's lying to me. Not sure why, but it doesn't feel malicious.
"Well, regardless, I'll need to part for a bit to change. My routine is over. If you'll excuse me." He bowed before turning, retreating into a nearby tent to change and get more comfortable.
Post by Eleanor Afolayan on May 20, 2017 0:07:28 GMT
[attr="id","bouquet"]
@rodie
baby i can see your halo
[attr="class","diag"]No luck in that front, it seems. Eleanor finds herself unwittingly cursing the fact that she didn't bring any extra clothes to help the poor dear out, like she usually does. For Nina. Whose clothes were far from fitting a mostly physically grown young man like Roderick. She shrugs off the thought, in the end. Even if she had indeed brought a change of clothes, there was little chance of it actually being helpful. She limits herself to an apologetic smile.
"Well..." she starts. Eleanor really wanted to say something in favor of the woman who'd generously allowed her to tag along, but there was nothing she could say that would redeem Brunhilde Jónsson's image in anyone's minds after meeting her even once. "Yes, she's quite the personality," she finally admits, and laughs alongside the younger man.
Brunhilde was quite the hedonistic woman, which often meant their interests overlapped; but, whereas Brunhilde openly cheated on her husband, Eleanor drew a hard line against infidelity. She could never see herself doing something as cruel to the love of her life. Then again, she'd married Liam out of love, which she'd come to learn wasn't the case with her pompous friend.
She's disappointed to find that Roderick's meaning to leave her company, though his new mention of his attire comes as a bit of reassurance to counter said disappointment. At least, it meant he wasn't tired of her. Probably. "Of course. Go recover your ability to breathe. I suspect it's one you'll be needing in order to get through the rest of the evening." The hint to a second, much deeper meaning to her words hangs in the air, but Eleanor does nothing else to emphasize it. She only smiles at the bow he offers her, all the while thinking to herself, Ever the gentleman.
Roderick disappears behind elegant suits and dresses made of satin and silk, leaving Eleanor with a warm sense of pride for a son not really her own as she makes her way back to the masses, to mingle with the other guests and maybe steal an artichoke dip cup or two from one of the waiters. Those small cream-and-green delicacies had left quite the impression on Eleanor's palate.
She's laughing at a handsome blond man's jokes alongside two other guests when she next sees the blue-eyed angel. "Roderick!" she calls, an arm raised to beckon him towards the small group. It couldn't be more than thirty minutes since he left, which makes her wonder if she isn't being selfish in monopolizing his attention. She brushes the thought aside, though. If he wanted to greet the other guests, he was free to excuse himself again to do so.
"This gentleman here has been retelling us what he claims to be the real reason why ginseng has been the rage among alchemists these past days. Personally, I think he's taking us for fools. Care to share your position on the matter?"
There is an amused smile dancing on her lips even as she calls the man a shameless charlatan.
Roderick couldn't have thrown that robe off quicker than he did. The long drawn out sigh of relief was unmistakable if it was heard among the chatter and music still going on. Dressing himself in appropriate attire for this kind of event: a simple button down tucked into some slacks with polished shoes he returned outside to hear his name called by the same woman he was with earlier. She was quite good at socializing, he surmised, seeing her mingle so well when just a few minutes went by. A laugh entered his mind, mimicking his own sentiments on it. Of course, it was Lumin, an image of a crane forming in his mind briefly.
A shame she's married chap. She'd make a lovely wife for you. He jested, seemingly laughing more as Roderick mentally pushed him away to keep quiet for the moment. Roderick allowed himself to be swept up into minor conversation. Apparently, she was wondering what was the rage for ginseng with alchemists and if this guy was lying about it. A quick laugh flew past his lips and he cleared his throat.
"I believe I can address the reason behind this growing fad. Ginseng has raw helpful properties to help reverse signs of aging like wrinkles and spots on the skin. Thus, Alchemists have been making many serums to apply on the skin to help with a more youthful radiant appearance. Women, naturally, love it." He explained this fluidly, knowing much about this due to the company he tends to keep with the more wealthy populace. "...unless that isn't what he told you to which case he is quite wrong." He raised his eyebrows, looking at the gentlemen, but soon laughing afterwards as if to diffuse anything serious.
He knew that men and especially wealthy men hated to be wrong after all.
Post by Eleanor Afolayan on May 21, 2017 20:26:41 GMT
[attr="id","bouquet"]
@rodie
baby i can see your halo
[attr="class","diag"]No longer clad completely in gold and other lighter tones, Roderick doesn't quite give off the same angelic aura from before, but he does look the part of an elegant, well-to-do member of society. She briefly wonders about how he dresses normally, when in more casual occasions. Kids around time were very fond of their oversized shirts and pants, from what Eleanor's seen lately. Her mind attempts to reconcile both opposing images with little success.
There is laughter erupting from the small group—from everyone, including the man whose logic is being questioned, though only after a few seconds of silence in his case. Eleanor notices this, as another man teases him with a "See, Lord Balthamos? It had little to do with those conspiracy theories of yours."
Truthfully, if the news recap from the last meeting she'd held with her coven was anything to go by, his conspiracy theories weren't completely off. Lord Balthamos just hadn't connected all the appropriate dots. Of course, Eleanor wasn't anywhere close to mentioning that. She didn't want a death sentence. Instead, she lightly presses a hand over the man's shoulder, urging him to stop, that's quite enough, Martin, and swiftly changes topics. All without dropping the gentle smile on her face.
"Feeling refreshened, Roderick?" she asks, smiling at the newcomer warmly. "I have to admit I'm surprised you changed so quickly—I would have tried to exercise at least a little self-restraint, so you could come back to a plate of caviar canapés still intact. Worry not, though, we'll just ask one of these sweet boys to bring us more." Her eyes are already scanning the room for the closest waiter, so she could ask for his help.
The young man actually leaves them the entire plate, fresh out of the kitchens, to Eleanor's delight. He takes the empty one lying on the table next to them, and leaves with the promise of returning with more appetizers shortly.
"Did you get a chance to try them before your performance?" Eleanor finds herself asking, gently pushing the canapés in his direction. Probably not, she decides, in which case he did really need to feed himself now. Socializing—or doing anything—on an empty stomach was unacceptable. A speech on the importance of finding time to feed himself despite work is being readied in her mind as she awaits his answer. She wasn't meaning for it to happen, honestly she wasn't, but clearly her mom instincts were taking over, and Roderick seemed to be the next victim.
Oh Lord Balthamos, always trying to stir a mess but being messy at the same time. He's dealt with him before, an exemplary image of a man whose fire burned too hot with a need to be the center of attention. Perhaps it was paranoia that made him say so many outlandish things in the first place, but regardless Lumin and his inner thoughts laughed at his own expense. "I am indeed." He replied, breathing a sigh of further relief as if to compound that notion. He merely laughed at the woman, simply because she seemed to care a great deal for him so much already. This can't be genuine can it? The more she spoke the more odd it all was. He had never been so greatly concerned about in his life.
He laughs, but his insides quiver from unknown territory. Truthfully, it made him uncomfortable because it was so foreign in the first place. Something she didn't need to know though. "Oh, that's merely because I can have time to myself once the festivities are over." This may have hinted that even spending time at parties was considered work, it meant little to Roderick if an assumption was made or not. This has been his life for so long now. It is only behind closed doors that he can truly take off the weight and simply relax in full.
Eleanor really did love to eat however. She was taking full advantage of the options available to her. His light eyebrows rose from being given the whole plate and when asked if he had tried some before he shrugged his shoulders. "I have, but I seldom eat before a performance. A few hours beforehand, I fast. It means no digestive issues to cause a scene and it gives me clarity to perform at my best." While fasting was considered religious in all respects, Roderick merely chose to do it because appearances were everything. If he ate beforehand and had issues with his innards? He'd be the laughing stock of the party instead of its center. That frightened him actually. This was the only thing he truly loved.
"...I have a feeling you'll scold me for that." Eleanor did look to be that motherly type.
Post by Eleanor Afolayan on May 29, 2017 23:19:04 GMT
[attr="id","bouquet"]
@rodie
baby i can see your halo
[attr="class","diag"]It does make a lot of sense, if Eleanor stops to think about it for a second. Sure, it was still imperative for Roderick to feed himself, and feed himself well, but she could understand fasting just before a concert. With how nervous performing in front of a big public—one full of snakes, on top of that—would make just about the entire population of Salem, Roderick's decision was actually not surprising. There was nothing to restlessly swirl in his stomach in anxiety, and nothing to throw up, should the need arise.
"Believe me, I was going to." Eleanor pops yet another of the small appetizers inside her mouth in carefree pensiveness. She's still considering it, in fact. "I still might, if you don't start going through these soon. Don't temp me, young man." Had Eleanor known any of the guests other than Brunhilde, she would have undoubtedly made them testify in her behalf. Well, no matter. The threat was set out before him, even if it wasn't as threatening as she hoped.
An idea crosses her mind. Playful, mischievous. "Unless you want me to spoon-feed you myself?" she adds, teasing. Despite her vision of him as little more than a child, she knew he wasn't, and knew any other twenty-something-year-old would rather have the earth bury them alive before being caught in such an embarrassing situation. If her prior threat didn't convince him, surely this one would.
"Honestly, work may be important and all you want, but your health should always take highest priority." She's pretty short from coming off as a nagging mom. At the same time, she realizes there is uncharacteristic silence in their immediate vicinity.
Neither Martin or Lord Balthamos, the two loudest personalities in the small group, were talking anymore. They only watch, silent. Silently judging, no doubt. "Don't you agree, gentlemen?" she chips in then, sorry to have left them out of the conversation not only because etiquette dictated it, but merely because she hated leaving anyone out of any group fun. "Surely you must know Roderick better than I do. What do you say? Am I right to worry about him?"
It seems to satisfy their morbid curiosity, as well as Lord Balthamos's now very apparent love for attention. After a few minutes of light teasing and commentary that could easily be seen as offensive, taken out of context, she helps him slip back out of the boisterous fun. Or drags him away, perhaps? The act was open to interpretation. What wasn't open to interpretation was the entirety of a new serving of oysters that she brought along, of course.
"Did I hear you mention you had plans after this?" she asks at last, when they're bound to be heard by none of the aristocrats and politicians whose company they were keeping only moments before. The downside is that quite some time had passed since he spoke of enjoying his time alone. It did make her wonder: If Roderick really did not enjoy his time in these parties, why did he attend them? Was the pay just that high, or was there something else?
Oho, she truly was a motherly type. Without so much an ounce of hesitation, she agreed that she would've scolded him about his eating habits. She even threatened him (though in a friendly manner) that if he didn't start to eat he really would.
At the second threat, Roderick could've choked if he were drinking something and eyes burrowed into him from the others around him. Had he been a nervous, socially inept youth he would've crumbled under this motherly scrutiny. Instead, he breathed deeply and adjusted the collar of his shirt like before to air it out and keep himself cool. When was the last time he been in this situation? Never. His mother had no time for him. He was to sponge off of other women that had a conscious or all on his own.
My health should be my main priority... Perhaps not for the reasons she had in mind. Hers sounded pure and maternal. The only reason he had fuel in his engine was to run over one or more people that caused him suffering. Still, the silence was palpable within their little social circle and Roderick knew that judgments and assumptions were being passed wordlessly between the other individuals. Her questions hardened his eyes, a brief flare of the flame within as he looked at the other men. There was that wolf under the squeaky clean, pretty sheep's clothing.
He'd spit on each of them if they so much as said a word of faux pity. He reaches for a glass of champagne as jests were made, silencing the fury for a later time. It was almost a blessing when he was pulled aside to a less populated section to speak. He let her do it, it was highly welcomed. Her question piqued his interest, but he truly didn't have a sufficient answer. He didn't have anything after this planned.
"I normally just return home. I have nothing going on that would adequately be called a plan whatsoever."
Post by Eleanor Afolayan on May 30, 2017 17:23:58 GMT
[attr="id","bouquet"]
@rodie
baby i can see your halo
[attr="class","diag"]She suspects Roderick's glad to be away from Lord Balthamos, if only because she's noticed his muscles loosen into a calmer pose. The short moment of fire in his eyes goes by unnoticed by her. If she was to be honest, though, relief reached even her own muscles. Don't get her wrong: Eleanor loves socializing and being in the center of the party, but there was only so much tension she could bear at a time. Right now, she was feeling depleted of her tolerance for it. Particularly so after being deprived of these parties for so long.
"I don't believe it," she declares. For a young man his age to not have one or two activities to purse on the side was already quite surprising. And one with his looks? The idea could easily raise a few eyebrows. "Not even thinking of going downtown later? The night's still young. I assure you the town's locals aren't as exhausting as our dear Lord Balthamos." At this last part, she offers a grin.
Maybe it's due to her own unconventional childhood, but Eleanor is convinced that young witches like him, adults under Salem's standards but not adult enough to give fun up, needed to go out and enjoy life, make mistakes they could regret later.
What she really finds preposterous, however, is the fact Roderick wasn't even planning to visit Eclipse's few but very fine attractions. The mental image of him returning to Sundial before he gets a chance to see the town's beauty at night flashes before her eyes. It's so wrong, she feels personally responsible to keep it from happening. "When do you return to Sundial?" With some luck, it wouldn't be the following day. That way, if he was tired after his performance, she could give him a short tour some other day.
She was straight to the point this time. She didn't believe him. There was plenty to do here and to not even think of visiting the downtown areas? Nonsense! That's the feeling he got from her, as if people his age should have plenty to do. She wasn't wrong per se, he was in his twenties and in the prime of his youth. He breathed, exhaling and wondering what to even say. She really was an interesting woman to be scolding him in a manner he was completely unprepared for.
She then asked if he was going to return to Sundial soon. What was this? Roderick blinked. "In a few days." He felt that there was going to be a catch with answering this question. Did he seal himself to the whims of Eleanor? Roderick closed his eyes, let a smile grace his features. Damned it all, he really did fall so clumsily into this little trap of hers.
"I can only assume you have plans for me don't you?" And yet she was easy to read all the same with these instances. Her intentions were honest and straight forward. He wished he had that quality. Isadora always told him he spoke so eloquently that he could melt into anyone's preferred preference for pleasant company. All the same, you lose yourself and what makes you you doing this for as long as he has.
Maybe this time he wanted to be caught however. He's dealt with actual social traps before. Nobles with their head games and of verbal war. A fascinating game, but only if you're a step ahead.
Post by Eleanor Afolayan on Jun 6, 2017 4:39:27 GMT
[attr="id","bouquet"]
@rodie
baby i can see your halo
[attr="class","diag"]Eleanor's eyes light up at Roderick's answer. A few days would leave room for so many exciting activities, she could have an entire field trip just planning it out. What's more, it also meant she'd have plenty of time to gather a few people his age for him to hang out with. "Perfect!" she says, and for a moment she's got this particular smile that only a person pleased with herself can conjure. The woman in question is often pleased with herself, of course, so this expression is in fact a typical one.
When he proceeds to ask about her plans for him, rather wisely suspicious, Eleanor doesn't need to lie or feign innocence. "Damn right I do," she says, complete with a determined affirmative nod, forgetting what kind of event she's currently attending. At least, she later reasons, the little outburst happened before only Roderick, rather than the entirety of the party. "Free up your schedule for tomorrow night and the day after tomorrow," is all she offers next. The exact activities to be carried out would remain a surprise, if she could help it.
"You don't have more performances then, do you?" Eleanor hasn't heard of any other parties in the next following days from Brunhilde, but it was also entirely possible that she merely failed to mention them. Perhaps those would be more private occasions, where even Bru wouldn't dare take outsiders. Perhaps some other organization had booked a performance from Roderick—after witnessing him at work firsthand, Eleanor was certain he'd be packed.
