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 festival of colors party!, eraser style. 12.01 - 12.31
Constance Dreamweaver
 Posted: Dec 2 2016, 06:02 AM
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Constance Dreamweaver
523 year-old female elf-necromancer from Alluum
Excuse me, can you tell me what was the thing you heard about me? Maybe that I'm a little harlot, homicidal queen?
Constance is Offline

heterosexual
she / her


Constance adjusted the cat brooch of her floor-length white cape as she walked into the ballroom. The party-planning committee that had set up the welcome party had grown since the school term began, and instead of four or five people, there were closer to ten or twenty running around, making sure things were correctly set up for the first long party of the term. She recognized a few as being from her own class, although a few of them wore vanguard cuffs, intermediary sashes or the sorcerers’ ridiculous hats – clearly, the original party committee had outsourced itself to gather members.

At the center of the marble room was a marble statue of Zhni wrapped in a colorful assortment of plants and fabrics. The statue was ancient, original to the school’s time as a monastery during the Stone Era, and had been retrieved from the caves long before Constance had even attended the school. It had been customary to pull the statue from its temple deep in the caves for a more public display during the Festival of Colors; generally, it was placed in the inner courtyard, although in the past few years, Constance had managed to snatch the statue for her class’ party.

Around the circular base of the statue (which was nearly as tall as the room was high, Constance noted) were bottles of alcohol, bowls of punch and snack foods. Actual full meals would be served at the Hangman’s Point cafeteria throughout the week, although those with enough money would likely be feasting on the plethora of food vendors that showed up to the festival.

There was a significantly smaller number of vendors than there had been in previous years, but it was still the morning of the first day of the celebrations, so Constance had confidence that the numbers would flesh themselves out.

She glanced around at the room, noting the season-appropriate garland of real plants bearing real fruits wrapped around the columns supporting the second-floor balcony. Colorful gourds and other vegetables decorated the floor around the base of the columns. Constance walked over and tapped a party committee member on the shoulder.

”Are the wreaths at the bottom of the columns properly secured?” she asked before they turned around. The dwarf looked surprised when she turned and saw Constance, her eyes going wide, and she immediately held up a finger as she flipped through the pages of the clipboard in her grasp.

”Yes, Miss Dreamweaver, they’re magically-secured,” she said after a moment. Constance nodded and dismissed her.

There were no chairs or tables on the ground floor of the ballroom, which was a very smart choice on the party committee’s part. The stage for the bands that would be playing throughout the week was set up at the top of the grand staircase, with stage lighting stealthily hung from predetermined points in the ceiling. As she walked through, the lights were all on at their brightest setting to give the room plenty of light as the ballroom was being set up.

She made her way up the grand staircase, her velvet cape dragging on the stairs behind her. The fur at the edges of the cape had actual silver intertwined with it, giving it the illusion of shimmering as it moved behind her. The second floor balcony was to her liking, with enough tables and chairs to sit a few dozen people. She turned around, scanning the ballroom below her, and smiled.

”It looks excellent, everyone!” she said. ”I trust you all have a system worked out to make sure everything stays stocked throughout the week?”

The people in the room stopped what they were doing, and a few turned to look at the dwarf she had spoken with before. The dwarf pushed up her glasses, squared her shoulders and announced that they did, indeed, have the means to make sure that the party would be well catered.

”I think it’s time we open the party up, then,” Constance said. ”Someone please fix the lights, turn on the music and get the first band up here.”

The first band of the day would be Priest Lightning, which was a group of newly-graduated divines that had grown in popularity wildly over the summer. They had played at the late slot in the last party, although they were forced to just come and play during the early hours of the festival due to prior commitments.

Constance made her way back down the stairs, her fingers brushing along the banner. Along with her stark white cape, she also had a white gown on; it was fairly simple compared to many of her other dresses, but since it was the Festival of Colors, she had had advertisements placed around the school that people would be able to throw paint at her at the low, low price of just one oolm (or for free if they brought their own paint). She wasn’t particularly concerned about her hair, but she did wear it in an updo underneath a very dainty white wool hat.

She opened the inner doors to the ballroom and placed bricks in front of them to keep them open. In the foyer of Hangman’s Point, someone from the party committee was standing next to a rather large stack of pint paint cans. He gave her a thumbs up and she laughed as she unlocked the door to the tower. A few people were waiting outside and immediately flooded in when she moved out of the way.

@everyone with 918 words
dress

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Primrose Griffin
 Posted: Dec 3 2016, 04:26 PM
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Primrose Griffin
532 year-old female Elf from Alluum
"have i gone mad?" "im afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usualy are"
Primrose is Offline

pansexual
she/her


Primrose always looked forward to parties in Hangman’s Point, even back when she was a student and mentor. The eraser class always seemed to pull some of the best parties; they were definitely something you didn’t want to miss. With the Festival of Colors, she knew it was going to be that much more exciting.

For the Fall Equinox holiday, Prim loved getting into the spirit when it came to her fashion. Her dress seemed to be made purely of autumn leaves of varying shades and thin branches pointing out in all directions from her collar. She wore leather gloves that reached halfway up her upper arms, as well. She loved to express her warden pride as often as she could, even if everyone else saw her as a fool. Those people simply did not understand who she was.

She made her way to Hangman’s Point from the Treehouse. She walked along the forest floor, taking in the crisp late-morning air. Sections of the warden forest were naturally losing their leaves and turning beautiful shades of orange and brown, while other sections remained healthy and green through magic. Halfway to Hangman’s Point, Primrose started to regret walking all the way instead of just teleporting. But she wanted people passing to see her dress and appreciate it!

When she got to Hangman’s Point, the party was just beginning. There were a few small groups of people mingling around inside the ballroom. There was a band performing onstage. She noticed a large stack of paint, and remembered that the party committee was selling a pint of paint for an oolm. Constance had advertised for people to throw paint at her, since it was the Festival of Colors. With a grin, Prim pulled out her coin purse and ordered a couple pints of varying paint.

With her paint in her hands, Primrose walked around looking for Constance. She wanted to try and stealthily attack her, but she’d have to find her before that. She also kept an eye out to see who she would recognize at the party. Until then… she was going to have some food.

Most food was out of the ballroom, and Prim wanted to wait until the party was more populated before she’d leave like that. There were also going to be vendors around the campus, but a lot of them weren’t going to be set up until later in the festivities. So for now, Prim was going to settle with simple snack foods. There were also bottles of various alcohols, but Primrose decided to have fruit punch instead. She only really drank alcohol she made herself nowadays.

As she was snacking on mini pretzels and looking around the ballroom, Primrose finally spotted Constance. It was difficult to miss her; her outfits were always extravagant when she was out in public. This time she wore a beautiful white dress, just so people could throw paint at her. Prim adjusted her grip on her paint cans, and started to move around so she could end up behind Constance. Obviously she was anticipating people throwing paint at her, but Prim knew she couldn’t know when.

Eventually she circled around the edge of the ballroom, acting casual and greeting people she walked by. She got close enough to Constance, and started making her way over. She was a couple feet away from her when she called out, “Happy Festival of Colors, Constance!” and tossed the paint out towards Constance’s dress.
578 words @Constance Dreamweaver @party

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Deyna Serenos
 Posted: Dec 21 2016, 04:14 AM
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Deyna Serenos
63 year-old female Wizard from Alluum
you got a fast car / i want a ticket to anywhere / maybe we make a deal
Deyna is Offline

pansexual/romantic
she/her


tag: anyone
757 words
notes:
the red light in the doorway says she’s armed
There was to be a party on the first floor of Hangman’s Point. It was going to be a party for the ages, just like every other eraser party, and practically the whole school would be there, students, mentors, heads, and all. There was no foreseeable reason why she should miss it, no reasonable excuse that she could make for the entirety of the celebration. If she went early in the week, made her appearance, and left, at least she would have it under her belt and showed herself to be a team player within the school, a real person and not just the growly, stiff mentor she had thus been. (She was not used to the schoolmarm aspect of the job and had frequently played it up too much to avoid not playing it at all.) But now it was a holiday; the students were out for a few days and the pressure to be some huge role model was nearly completely off her shoulders. Finally, she was allowed to be Deyna and not Miss Serenos, but whether or not she would take full advantage of this freedom was yet to be determined. An attempt, however, must be made.

Deyna swung a small pocket watch on its chain, slicing the air with a gentle whir, as she trekked down the many flights of stairs to the ballroom floor. There were only something like 25 stories between her and the ballroom, and she spent the entire trek picking at the white blouse she wore. At the twentieth floor, she untucked it a little. At the seventeenth, she tucked it back in. At the thirteenth, she had it all the way out. At the tenth, she opened three more buttons, only to close them on the eighth. The shirt, all but two buttons buttoned, was tucked back into her tight, white trousers by the fifth floor, and this was how she made it to the first floor. Noting her own earliness, she waited for a little bit to enter the room. With a sigh, she plopped down on the stairs a little ways up and just listened to the hum of burgeoning excitement.

In her time as a student, Deyna had enjoyed the parties immensely. The food and drink were plentiful and, best of all, free, which had pretty much blown her mind at the time. While most of the students were puking in the bushes because of drink choices, Deyna was doing it from overeating, just so she could try some more. Of course, the newness wore off after about the second or third year, but she had had a ball the first time. Now, however, she rarely felt the sting of true hunger, and after that faded, she found that the parties just became an opportunity for her to make even more of an ass of herself. When other people got unruly, it seemed fun, but Deyna just got loud, her accent gaining back its Xidwin slum bite. Her naivety and her penchant for dueling both rise up in her throat and create quite the unfortunate combination. Age had brought her this realization, dumping it at her feet like a boon, but it had hitherto taught her very little of self-control that would prevent it.

With this very possible future looming over her, Deyna pushed herself to standing and brushed the stair dirt off her bum. White clothes were awful for her, but the party called for it. The sound of the party seemed to mount; the task could not be put off any longer. Nodding decisively, Deyna shouldered open the door of the grand ballroom and instantly felt more than a little under dressed. The party was shaping up to be quite grand, and once more, Deyna had already made herself unfit for it. The mentor threw up her hands and decided to make her rounds anyway. She even went so far as to slather on a grin for that signature eraser confidence.

Craning her neck about, she tried to see if there were any familiar faces among the party’s early participants. She saw a few class heads among the throng, but that was all she immediately recognized. A younger girl passed by with a tray of drinks, and Deyna lifted one from it. She got the beverage to her lips before sniffing it. Was that fuel in it? Grimacing, she set the drink down on a nearby table and wiped her hands on her trousers. Why was simple water never abundant at these functions?

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Ava Ryce
 Posted: Jan 11 2017, 04:36 AM
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Ava Ryce
32 year-old agender Human from Alluum
love will always be a game, we give and take a little more, eternal game of tug and war.
Magpie is Offline

biromantic asexual
she / they


Auяum and Aяg⋷ntum
As a Vanguard, it was practically Magpie's duty to attend an eraser function with such a high probability for troublemaking. The head didn't use electronics often and she was discovering that not many of the students did either, but that hardly put a crimp in the Magpie's devilish fun. Holosets were easily tampered with–the noise filters didn't account for all electromagnetic interference because they used static to collect dust. Slipping up the side of the building, into a rarely used closet, to set up the EM emitter was child's play.

She set the machine to operate on an algorithm which used merging to change the duration between pulses. All machines operating in a similar capacity to holosets would experience technical difficulties randomly over the next month. It was hardly a big prank. It seemed unfitting for a criminal mastermind to set something up as a minor annoyance, her associates were wont to tell her.

Contrarily, it was the little things that mattered the most when you were needling an enemy. The way one sat, the way one greeted them, could invoke the image of a servant or a master. An expert could remind them of friends they'd lost, enemies they'd gained, and everything in between. Just like with body language, psychological warfare required a subtle touch. Threats provoked base emotions. They were difficult to predict, too, not nearly as efficient as a long campaign.

She'd enlisted some of the newest students to switch around the door numbers on four floors and to steal the ones off every door on the eleventh. It was childish, harmless, and entirely cerebral–a reminder that the Vanguards were experts at infiltration, that they knew how to wage a subtle war. Magpie herself had been changing the position of curtains in various mentor's rooms whenever she got a chance. An act that made them second guess themselves but left no evidence of tampering.

Simple but effective. And excellent practice. She tolerated the rivalry because it facilitated such training on both sides.

With a mind on her own hypocrisy, Magpie changed from her dark scaling outfit to the white leggings and skintight shirt she'd stuffed in her bag. She refused to allow a drop of paint to touch her skin. The dress she donned next had a hood and a collar big enough that only her eyes peeked over the edge. White, of course. It was the Festival of Colors after all.

When this party devolved into a paint fight, as it usually did, she wanted to be prepared. Fully covered but still participating.

Magpie slipped down the stairs, unnaturally silent with decades of practice. A woman, an eraser, blocked her path on the stairs and she was forced to double around and find another way down. There were multiple staircases in most of the towers on campus. It was just good sense in case there was an emergency.

When Magpie finally made it into the ballroom, the party seemed to be picking up. She wandered around, greeting other mentors whom she had worked with occasionally and those she thought should know her anyway. Despite her best efforts, between work and work, she rarely had time to associate with the other dragon riders. Her time was devoted to her missions first, her students next, her work, and lastly any extraneous pursuits.

She snagged a fluke filled with some rainbow-colored alcoholic beverage that was bound to be at least six different kinds of spirit and would get her absolutely shitfaced if she drank the whole thing. She resolved to drink one color and ditch the rest somewhere.

Her eye caught on the woman who had been sitting on the stairs earlier. Dressed all in white like many of the party-goers. She wore trousers and a sensible shirt, though, and looked slightly out of touch. Uncomfortable.

It was easy to approach loners who weren't mingling, and it made her stand out as the one who talked to them. It set her in their mind as friendly and amicable.

And it was fun, she reminded herself. This was a party and she was having fun. She wasn't scoping targets (not actively, anyway) and she wasn't planning a heist. She was allowed to make friends with no ulterior motive. She touched the cool silver of her vanguard bracelet, rubbing the engraving she'd painstakingly completed. It wasn't her own name.

It was her lover's. The person who had reminded her of her own humanity and whose death had pushed her to join the Vanguards. She made a living stopping people who did the things she had once done. It was a bit of poetic irony.

Re-centered, Magpie approached the woman with an open smile. "With drinks like these, half of us will be on the floor before the night is up, forget the whole week."

She gestured with her own glass, then extended a hand. "Magpie. I don't think we've ever met?"

ㄟ(。・ө・。)ㄏ• 821 words • @Deyna Serenos @ other party goers
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Deyna Serenos
 Posted: Jan 29 2017, 09:38 PM
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Deyna Serenos
63 year-old female Wizard from Alluum
you got a fast car / i want a ticket to anywhere / maybe we make a deal
Deyna is Offline

pansexual/romantic
she/her


tag: magpie
485 words
notes:
but, boy, go try your luck, and you might get past
The party was still in its budding stage, far from blooming into the raucous uproar she generally remembered. Deyna pulled the antique watch from the pocket of her trousers to check the time once more. Yes, it was still early; all the decorations weren’t even out yet. In fact, it seemed the only thing that was completely and thoroughly prepared were the drinks and some finger foods, which seemed to stream by on endless trays. One of the hors d'oeuvre that passed caught her eye, and nose, and she snatched one from the tray. The tray shook vigorously when she did so, and her eyes grew wide. She made quick apologies to the young server before slinking even more into the shadows.

She munched on the small baked good, somewhere between savory and pastry, until her throat dried out even more. After a few unfortunate taste and sip tests, Deyna found what she was sure was the only water vendor currently at the party. She grabbed a goblet of it and kept it close. Her eyes continued to scan the crowd until she could find a few analogs of herself among the students that had trickled in. In each cycle of students, there were always a few who still came slinking in from less than stellar areas, wearing slum stink like cloaks. No matter how much they tried to hide it, it followed them, and she vaguely wondered if there had been a mentor or head who had seen it in her, too.

Deyna’s attention snapped to when she saw a person approach her. She was obviously not a student; she carried herself much too well. But still, Deyna had never seen her. Of course, she didn’t really interact with those outside of her class, and this definitely wasn’t an eraser. The silver vanguard bracelet confirmed that and put Deyna a little more at ease; vanguards and erasers had a long and friendly history. Deyna paused her quiet assessment of the woman to give her what she hoped was a small smile; instead, it carried the same sort of bite time could never erase from her.

“Yeah, no kidding. If we run out of lamp fuel, it’ll do in a pinch. Keep us burning for days,” Deyna returned with an internal snort. She took the final sip of water from her goblet and set it down as well. A passing server picked it up and gave the two older people a nod of acknowledgement. Deyna returned it, and the server was once more off for parts unknown.

Deyna slipped her hand into the other woman’s and shook it vigorously. “I don’t believe we have. I’m Deyna Serenos. I’ve been around for a while, but this is my first festival as an official mentor. I’d call it exciting, but,” she paused to indicate the party that was truly only beginning, “that has yet to be determined.” She rolled her head from side to side, to release tension in her neck that she had not been aware of. “Have you seen any of the other festivities starting? I’ve been told it’s all to be quite the shindig.”

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