[ he's spent the better part of the hour (hours? who can tell?) watching the throng of people moving on the dance floor. he can't say he hates the music, but then he isn't crazy about it, either. it's faded to little more than white noise as he partakes in everything there is to offer, and with no small measure of enjoyment. it's free, after all.
he eats, he drinks, he socializes - though he finds it much less pleasurable with the staff, more for that fact that it feels as though he's spoken with the same woman six times already despite having moved to different areas of the room. in the end he settles in one of the booths bordering the back wall, chin propped on his hand as he scans the room for someone or something of interest.
it isn't long before his gaze falls to the screen in time to catch the flash of a woman across it, and his brows quirks more out of curiosity than concern. ]
Well then.
[ he's provided with a drink in the next moment and he lets his gaze sweep around the area again to see if there's anyone who had glimpsed the same thing he did. he meets eyes with one of the occupants and with a barely restrained smile, lifts his hand up in a two-fingered wave and beckons them over. ]
[ phase iii;; ]
[ he's been plied with food and drink for some time now, and along the way managed to catch the arm of someone that didn't seem as though they were a part of the staff. that is to say, they looked more vibrant, more alive than the rest of the occupants with empty smiles and vacant expressions.
utilizing a strength that was more inhuman than human, he ends up pulling them to one of the quieter rooms -- for a talk, of course. he is a gentleman, after all. he's even kind enough to lock the door before moving into the center of the room, fiddling with the hologram there and bathing the room in a warm, red light that carries along with it a more... sinister vibe than he'd perhaps intended.
or maybe he had intended it all along, who knew? ]
So. [ he speaks around a cigarette, tie undone and hanging loosely around his shoulders. a moment later he's barely glancing up, letting his hand fall from the holographic controls to pluck the cig out from between his lips and exhale a slow, easy stream of smoke into the air. ]
Any ideas?
[ phase iv;; ]
[ it's the smell that hits him first, titillating his senses even amidst the alcohol-fueled haze dulling his senses. he's mingled, he's indulged, he's wandered - not far, of course, because he's not quite sure where he would go (and that was a mystery he was still working out, honestly) - and as the party winds down during the last few hours, he's burned through a half packet of cigarettes as he surveys the party-goers with varying degrees of interest.
it's obvious he's not home, though now he finds himself questioning that fact and trying to bridge the connection between then and now. his memories come up blank and disconnected, the gap in time made even more pronounced the longer he tries to make sense of things. "here" is not "there", it is somewhere else entirely. he does not know these faces, of that he was certain.
so then, how...
he's dragged out of his thoughts when he feels something wet on his cheek and he presses his fingers there, drags them away to see the smear of blood on them. something stirs within him and he glances up just as the security guards begin to swarm in and the screams of people echo all around him. it sets his blood boiling - but not for the reasons one might expect.
there's a thrill, a certain excitement to the situation and he can't help but to smile at everything. even if this is a peace he had supposedly fought for - this is far more entertaining. much, much more entertaining, and he can't help but be drawn to it.
so rather than help as he should do, as a defender of Cerealia should have done - he sits. he watches, and he steeples his fingers, gaze riveted on the creature as though he were watching some grand performance.
and if the creature happens to be making a beeline for you? you'd better start screaming at him for help. ]
tyki mikk / d. gray-man / phase i, iii, iv
[ he's spent the better part of the hour (hours? who can tell?) watching the throng of people moving on the dance floor. he can't say he hates the music, but then he isn't crazy about it, either. it's faded to little more than white noise as he partakes in everything there is to offer, and with no small measure of enjoyment. it's free, after all.
he eats, he drinks, he socializes - though he finds it much less pleasurable with the staff, more for that fact that it feels as though he's spoken with the same woman six times already despite having moved to different areas of the room. in the end he settles in one of the booths bordering the back wall, chin propped on his hand as he scans the room for someone or something of interest.
it isn't long before his gaze falls to the screen in time to catch the flash of a woman across it, and his brows quirks more out of curiosity than concern. ]
Well then.
[ he's provided with a drink in the next moment and he lets his gaze sweep around the area again to see if there's anyone who had glimpsed the same thing he did. he meets eyes with one of the occupants and with a barely restrained smile, lifts his hand up in a two-fingered wave and beckons them over. ]
[ phase iii;; ]
[ he's been plied with food and drink for some time now, and along the way managed to catch the arm of someone that didn't seem as though they were a part of the staff. that is to say, they looked more vibrant, more alive than the rest of the occupants with empty smiles and vacant expressions.
utilizing a strength that was more inhuman than human, he ends up pulling them to one of the quieter rooms -- for a talk, of course. he is a gentleman, after all. he's even kind enough to lock the door before moving into the center of the room, fiddling with the hologram there and bathing the room in a warm, red light that carries along with it a more... sinister vibe than he'd perhaps intended.
or maybe he had intended it all along, who knew? ]
So. [ he speaks around a cigarette, tie undone and hanging loosely around his shoulders. a moment later he's barely glancing up, letting his hand fall from the holographic controls to pluck the cig out from between his lips and exhale a slow, easy stream of smoke into the air. ]
Any ideas?
[ phase iv;; ]
[ it's the smell that hits him first, titillating his senses even amidst the alcohol-fueled haze dulling his senses. he's mingled, he's indulged, he's wandered - not far, of course, because he's not quite sure where he would go (and that was a mystery he was still working out, honestly) - and as the party winds down during the last few hours, he's burned through a half packet of cigarettes as he surveys the party-goers with varying degrees of interest.
it's obvious he's not home, though now he finds himself questioning that fact and trying to bridge the connection between then and now. his memories come up blank and disconnected, the gap in time made even more pronounced the longer he tries to make sense of things. "here" is not "there", it is somewhere else entirely. he does not know these faces, of that he was certain.
so then, how...
he's dragged out of his thoughts when he feels something wet on his cheek and he presses his fingers there, drags them away to see the smear of blood on them. something stirs within him and he glances up just as the security guards begin to swarm in and the screams of people echo all around him. it sets his blood boiling - but not for the reasons one might expect.
there's a thrill, a certain excitement to the situation and he can't help but to smile at everything. even if this is a peace he had supposedly fought for - this is far more entertaining. much, much more entertaining, and he can't help but be drawn to it.
so rather than help as he should do, as a defender of Cerealia should have done - he sits. he watches, and he steeples his fingers, gaze riveted on the creature as though he were watching some grand performance.
and if the creature happens to be making a beeline for you? you'd better start screaming at him for help. ]