World's End Dancehall [Nesia]

[Deleted]

"On the boundary lines of mingling jokes, On the other side of the stairs"

The night was still young -- the sky a dark navy blue, appearing to be black -- but in reality, under further scrutiny, still only a shade of blue.

They were so close; and yet, distinctively different. Francis thought it to be quite amusing as he took a sip from his second glass of wine for the evening, glancing out the window with a light air of prestige. It was beautifully misleading and an accurate metaphor for how one observed another. They seemed to be one color, but in actuality, another. Sometimes the perceived colors were much more lovely than the real one.

Francis turned away from his musings, leaving his place by the windowsill to re-emerse himself in the party he was currently attending. The extravagant hall was filled quite fully to the brim with obscenely rich people (himself included) -- politicians, celebrities, and the like all invited. The room was embellished generously with only the finest golden threads sprawled across the walls, and an overall aura of elegance and brilliance was nearly stifling to him. Long tables decorated with pristine white table clothes fulfilled their duty by holding overwhelming amounts of incredibly varied and gourmet food. Bouquets were placed every so often along the tables for an added effect of appeal, but it was a shame they weren't hand arranged. A professional orchestra was playing an original classic piece in the front of the room; it was better than what most could produce now, Francis thought with a mite of appreciation for the music swelling throughout the air. The chandelier was the most dazzling centerpiece, and certainly the most appreciated -- he had seen many people from the beginning look up to admire its alluring light upon their entrance.

Greeting the party attenders with his usual charismatic smile, Francis shook a great deal of hands and kissed an impressive number of others. It seemed to never stop; a ridiculous amount of people were here tonight. But as attorney general of the city and having a reputation of gentleman to uphold, Francis catered expertly to everyone's societal expectations. He had been through this routine infinitely amount of times during his life and could easily be considered a master of playing host. Of course, this time he was not exactly a "host" speaking by technical terms, but one of the many as a government official.

Everyone socialized and the Francis could hear bits and pieces of conversations as he passed by ("Oh, did you hear--" "I know, how shocking!" "I'm purchasing a new mutant soon" "The unique ones are more and more expensive nowadays--"), but he paid little attention to them. He took another sip of his wine, and continued on with the accommodations of the guests.

It was admittedly growing increasingly boring as time passed on as slowly as it did, however, and Francis found himself longing for something more. Something revolutionary, maybe -- something that would stir up excitement and evoke change for the world. He knew shamefully he couldn't do anything himself; he had come so far for his position, and he couldn't jeopardize it at this current point. No, there would be a much more suitable time for him to reveal the actual truth of where he stood regarding the servitude of "mutants" -- but it wasn't now, as much as he hated to admit it. He would continue his charade of acting of what was expected of him; after all, he had already done it throughout his whole life. It could wait a little longer.

All he had to do was wait for someone else to come along and do it for him.

electric has gangnam style

SPOILER: Click to show

Re-used from originally my and Saph's thread -- here you go, Derp. ;w; Hope it's okay!!

[Deleted]

She glanced upwards from the rim of her glass and a thousand diamonds blinked back at her. Too bright, but since they were far up there no one was blinded by their brilliance. Except her, who stubbornly kept looking at the diamonds as if challenging them for a staring match. But eventually a tap on Nesia's shoulder brought her back to reality.

And reality came in a form of curious older woman whose eyes were fixed at the pendant dangling on the younger woman's chest. Reality asked about the gemstone, the opal, and how it could trap so many colors inside it, like a miniature of the universe with its own smaller version of stars and galaxies. For the umpteenth time that night, Nesia recounted an old tale about a greedy man, an enchanted stone and how his magic trapped the sky inside it. Reality was very pleased and left with a card slipped into her purse. A card containing Nesia's workshop address and contact number.

She sipped her drink, glancing at the chandelier's reflection on the water. It's the only interesting thing in this party, aside from food. But looking upwards for too long hurt her neck, just like her initial reason why she moved away from the crowd and stayed close to the wall. She didn't stop talking since she entered the hall, although most conversation was initiated by others, like the older woman just now. Her strategy of wearing the opal pendant worked well. The tale she'd been telling people had enthralled the guests too and many of them left with her business card in their pocket.

Nesia placed her empty glass on a table and moved to the buffet, holding her dress so she wouldn't step on it. She observed each colorful dishes carefully before taking a plate and let the server put several prawns on it. Sure her initial intention for attending the party was to promote her business, even though the company she was working for already quite famous among the rich ones. She wanted to be an independent designer and started her own company in the future. Making herself known among them was a good start. Still, Nesia also wished she could attend the party solely for amusement purpose. But she barely knew people in Archadia, let alone having some friends in the party hall with her.

As the last prawn disappeared from the plate, her ears picked up an interesting conversation about mutants. She lingered near the group for several minutes, quietly listening. Looks like an auction was being held recently and a tall man who seemed to be the leader of the group boasted about his new mutant's ability. It was an interesting talk, to say the least. But eventually she grew bored and left to explore the hall, smiling to everyone she made eye contact with. To be honest, the idea of owning a mutant sound appealing to her. As for her motive, Nesia only wanted someone to help her cleaning the apartment. Mutants always obeyed the owner without question, and she liked it. Her parents did own several of them but Nesia was almost never interacted with them. They thought their abilities - or disease, as Father had said - could pass on her or her siblings if they're too close to one of them.

She observed people, recognizing several faces. Politicians, artists, actors... all the wealthy people. Nesia can't help but feeling smaller. If this was another party back home, her face would be recognized easily. But it wasn't, and she was glad she didn't have to deal with more talk--

"Oh! S-sorry!"

She shouldn't have daydreaming while walking! It wasn't hurt, but her empty plate still had yellow sauce from the prawn. The impact had made the plate touched her grey dress, leaving a noticeable yellow stain. Nesia paid no attention to it, she was more concerned about the person she just bumped into. "Did you get anything on your clothes?" she quickly put the plate away. "I'm really sorry, I should've been paying more attention." If she angered the person, Nesia was sure she couldn't attend another party like this out of shame.

[Deleted]

"There are no good things at all but, hey How about I take your hand?"

The party continued without a hitch, and Francis quickly found himself bored once again. He was lusting for some sort of entertainment tonight – for something interesting to happen. Quite frankly, this night was turning out to be extremely disappointing, and he had grown tired of the people and their gossip a long time ago. They all said the same things, talked about the same topics – uncovering so meticulously well-kept dirt on each other; frankly, that was the most amusing highlight so far. Such social gatherings usually fell into such a typical pattern, and Francis was cautious as to not be drawn into the loop himself. Years of being seasoned in the schematics of parties had not gone to waste, that much was certain.

The longing for a sort of climax to the festivities was not at in vain; just as fate would have it, Francis managed to bump into someone – a clumsy move that he was briefly ashamed of. Before he knew it, there was wine all over his new suit made specifically just for this occasion, and Francis thought, what a shame. He had stumbled backwards before regaining his balance, and the drink had created quite a messy and unappealing splash of color on his garments. Ah, well, clothing was only materialistic – which was a fortunate thing, too, because it was most definitely going to leave a permanent stain on the fine black cloth. He didn't mind terribly, as the suit had been a very stunning and handsome one, but he had at least a dozen more at his disposal.

Be careful for what you wish for, echoed unhelpfully in his head, but Francis shook it away in favor of smiling apologetically at the young woman he had so ungracefully collided with. This would not look good apperance-wise to the media, unless they chose for him to be the so-called “victim” in this situation – but that was unlikely. The press always loved a juicy story, even more so than the other attendees of the party this night. People were already beginning to eye them and murmur whispered comments to each other like they had just witnessed something scandalous.

”Oh, dear me,” was the first thing that came out of Francis's mouth, and he couldn't help but laugh at how preposterous the situation was. ”Ah, I am completely fine! No harm done, my dear, do not worry! I am at fault as well for not paying attention. But oh,” he frowned, now noticing the obvious and quite frankly unappealing yellow stain on the woman's dress. ”Your beautiful dress is ruined! I apologize profusely, madame. I will replace it for you as compensation.”

The room was too crowded and Francis would have to take this to a private place for the woman to change her clothes and for himself as well; he had no intention of remaining in a soaking tuxedo, nor would he stand for having another person be forced to endure such embarrassment of stains. This would cause the beginning of even more rumors, Francis was sure, but remaining as they were would be no better. ”Please, madame, come with me; I will show you a place you can change.”

electric has gangnam style

[Deleted]

The man she was bumped into was none other than Francis Bonnefoy himself, an attorney general who was frequently appeared in the media. Nesia was sure she had seen his name once or twice on newspaper headlines. Mati aku! she screamed internally. Upsetting a man so powerful like him feels like she just signed her death. That was an exaggeration, but she couldn't show up in parties anymore if people knew her as 'The Girl Who Can't Walk Straight and Ruined Francis Bonnefoy's Party'. So many people saw her bumped into him, possibly Mr. Bonnefoy's friends and acquaintances. She felt her cheeks became warmer as their color reddened out of embarrassment.

Nesia didn't notice it at first, too busy to apologize for her clumsiness. But now she clearly saw an ugly stain on Francis's suit. An empty wine glass in his grasp told her how the stain made its unwanted appearance. Maybe she could offer to pay for his suit's laundry as an apology?

”Your beautiful dress is ruined! I apologize profusely, madame. I will replace it for you as compensation.”

Hah? She blinked. Did she hear that wrong? Francis Bonnefoy, that Francis Bonnefoy offered to replace her dress as compensation? Compared to the wine stain, her dress wasn't really ruined. A day or two in professional laundry would remove it forever from the fabric. Still, she couldn't believe her own ears. Although her dress was purchased from a designer's boutique, surely it meant nothing compared to the French man's wealth. But letting him buy her a new dress would embarrass herself further.

"Y-you're so kind, Mr. Bonnefoy, but there is no need to do that. The stain is not... bad." Nesia stopped. Her voice was getting softer as she spoke. Everyone was staring at her back and it made her nervous. The Indonesian woman doubted he heard the last part as he asked her to follow him away from the crowd. She had no choice but obeying; the sooner they leave the party hall the better.

Following him quietly, Nesia's mind already ran out from the door straight to her apartment. Her imaginary self buried her head under he pillow, something that she would do once she got home. She quietly prayed that her face wouldn't appear tomorrow in some random gossip column. Being famous is good, but she didn't want that kind of fame. Another thought popped on her brain. What if he actually angry at her and he only said those nice things to keep his appearance among those people? What if he actually planned to threaten her to replace the suit or sued her instead? Nesia shuddered. According to what she had heard about him, Francis Bonnefoy was a nice gentleman. That didn't mean he is always nice...

Once they were far enough from the other party guests, Nesia said, "m-my dress is fine, the stain is small anyway. But I'm very sorry about your suit. Um, can I..." she took a deep breath, "can I take care of its... cleaning, as an apology? Please?" Nesia glanced to the exit, looking at her imaginary self who just disappeared behind the door with a wine stained suit hanging on her hand. That would be her in five minutes. Hopefully.

[[ mati aku = I'm dead. orz ]]