Love is just the tail of a jet black swan

[CYRIL BÉRENGER]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/1z52er9.jpg); border: 8px solid #616b91, bTable] like waking up from a deep sleep CRACKED AND BROKEN; STILL HEART FROZEN IMAGINE TO THE SUNLIGHT

To say that he was uninterested would be a lie. To say that he was rather bored, though, would be entirely the truth. While it was difficult to lose interest in the long table of refreshments in front of him, or the swirling eddies of music flowing around the room, even such excellent sources of entertainment had a tendency to grow rather dull. From his corner vantage point, he had a rather decent view of the other partygoers, though he was for the most part obscured. Partially by the table in front of him, and partially by the soft mood setting light that didn’t reach all edges of the room. Cy shifted slightly, tugging at his most restricting tie. At least it was blue. Though that couldn’t be applied to rest rest of his dark gray and black suit. Briefly, he regretted not bringing a fancy hat, perhaps one modeled after the Red Death. With big feathers. Wandering away from his ponderings, he glares forlornly and accusingly at a hapless waiter a few meters away. The poor victim quickly surrendered his tray, stacked with a pyramid of either very round eclairs or cream puffs. Cy smiled pleasantly, and the waiter quickly scurried off, trying to find something else to do somewhere very, very far away. Perilously balancing the platter on one hand, he managed to snag a flute of champagne and somehow dip a strawberry in the chocolate fountain and carry it in his mouth. Ration acquisition complete, he considered his options. To his right, there was an empty, open balcony that overlook the fountain. But also… he could just stake it out underneath the table cloth, for easy access to further foodstuffs. Dilemma. A sudden, ridiculously strong whiff of an aging lady/s over applied perfume made his decision for him. She seemed to decide that she, too, wanted to hover at the corner of the refreshments table, practically in his spot. Balcony it was, and far away from her. That spot stealer. Striding quickly, not jogging or sprinting because that would make it look like he was trying to escape and risk his food being damaged, he made his way frantically towards the open doors that led to the hall that led to the stairs that led to another hall that led to the balcony. It was just a bit further than he had estimated. And not really to the right at all. Then again, if he turned 180 degrees, it would have been to the left. Directions were such arbitrary means of identification, unless one was a fixed object. But he finally made it! And only dropped one cream puff, and perhaps an incriminating smear of chocolate across the handrail. But no matter. Settling down, Cy sat, leaning against the balcony railing, and efficiently made himself a rather nice nest, which consisted of his overcoat, gloves, and all the food he’d acquired. A quick glance towards the sky report: partly cloudy, early evening, past sunset, slightly cool with a pleasant breeze. By this point, Cyril Bérenger was looking quite disheveled; his mother would be disappointed. In response to that thought, he loosened his tie entirely so that it hung floppily around his neck, with a derisive snort. Unbuttoning the first few buttons to his shirt for good measured, he shook his now mussed but previously gelled hair, taking in a deep breath of the fresh night air. Finally settled, he slouched even further, and grabby handed towards his cream puffs. This ball was a very good idea, really. And he’d go back down in an hour or so, in case new food was brought out.

TAGGED : DREAM TEAM CY-RYS READY SET GO! WORD COUNT : 605 bah. :< NOTES : IDEK WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE. also that stripe of light blue at the bottom is annoying me.

[RYSIN MARCHELLIS]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,468px,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: top; background: url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2n7qf0j.jpg); background-color: e1e1e1;] acting like you’re not, like you didn’t hear ---------------------------------------- that snort with a thorn stuck in it ; all all all of it is weird ; all all all of it is disappointing WORDS; 780 TAGS; CY-RYS GOGOGO ! LOCATION; Valentine’s Day Dance NOTES; blahblahblah this is so bad I’m so tired blahhhhh. His eyes sweep over the grand ballroom, only stopping to linger on the curls of primped hair and wisps of lace that stray into his line of sigh. Rysin has never been to a dance like this before in his life, but despite the fact that he doesn’t really know what to do, he takes it in stride. After all, it couldn’t be a far cry from his acceptance ceremony as a General and he figures as long as he looks nice and doesn’t make fool of himself, everything will be fine. Someone had failed to mention, however, the amount of girls that would be here and his mind strays to chasing after them while they’ve got no where to go but to dance away in their little frilly dresses. He is not perverse; just healthily interested in the opposite sex. Is that much a crime? As long as he keeps it separate from his duty, he doesn’t think so. And right now, he is most definitely off duty and free to mingle and flirt as much as he sees fit. Well, he would, if he knew just what the purpose of this dance was. He sees couples dancing, plump aristocrats chuckling to each other to the side, haughty women in bodices and corsets gossiping to each other (something that he has learned to stay out of, if his experience with females is anything) and more, but there is no real opportunity to jump into the conversations. Nor would he really want to get himself involved in that kind of talk, considering the way that the women are hussing and fussing while looking at him. One look at their faces, all powdered up but with wrinkles still evident, though, makes him shudder. Luckily, he has learned tact and manages to keep up a straight, uninterested face until he can safely looks away. Once he does safely turn away from their line of sigh, he winces slightly. Just a bit. It is the only weakness he allows himself to show, mainly out of pure disgust. He’s going to need a shower now. However, that is not an option at the moment, nor will it be for the next few hours if he wants to do whatever he’s supposed to be doing here. Eat? Dance? Talk? The first option seems the most appealing and he can feel his stomach thanking him as he moves towards the tables lined with fattening treats and sweets. When he does reach the buffet, he is about to reach for a delicious looking orange slice before a man approaches him. Now? Right when he was inches away from his glorious citrus fruit? But Rysin decides to humour him and nods to the newcomer, only to notices that on his tray sits a rather glorious array of finger foods. Ahh. Food that walks; now this, he could get used to. In one fell swoop, he clears almost all of the tray, making the waiter do a double take. Instead of chastening the General, however, he merely compliments him on the dark grey tuxedo he is sporting and walks away. Food with mobility and manners? This was the life. Following the waiter’s movement, he spots an open balcony with a rather nice view; there is also the distinct lack of music and people that will surely give him the peace and quiet that he thoroughly enjoys. The only disadvantage is that it’s so far away from the food, but Rysin is intuitive and quickly solves this problem by wrapping up handfuls of food in a large cloth napkin. He takes his time climbing stares and walking through hallways, slowing down slightly to make eye contact with little ladies that pique his interest. But preying can wait for later; it’s more fun when they’ve plumped up and had a bit to drink. By the time there is only one hallway left separating him from the balcony, he notices someone has already set up camp; and it’s a rather familiar someone. Striding over, he raises his eyebrows as familiarity quickly morphs into recognition. And he’s already pigging out on food. Leave it to Cyril, of course. ”Any reason for being so far away from all the action?’ He asks, though not really expecting an answer. He stands not quite on the balcony, but right where a door might be if there were something separating him from the cool evening breeze. Rysin is somehow not surprised to find Cyril here, of all places. Though he did have an inkling beforehand that he would be off snagging trinkets left and right, he figures that his friend has more self-respect than that. Well, maybe. credits: made by kai from OTE! lyrics: hoot - snsd

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[CYRIL BÉRENGER]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/1z52er9.jpg); border: 8px solid #616b91, bTable] like waking up from a deep sleep CRACKED AND BROKEN; STILL HEART FROZEN IMAGINE TO THE SUNLIGHT

About halfway through this sixteenth? –Or seventeenth? No matter. Anyways , halfway through that éclair, Cyril had a poignant revelation: he actually could have polished off the platter while still at the table and loaded it up with all sorts of other delicious types of foods. Mentally smacking himself for his sheer idiocy and lack of planning ability. Self-berating thoughts aside, he quickly set about finishing his rations, so that he could freely return to the ball and wondrous refreshments table and stock up. Properly, of course. Because by this time, he'd long since eaten his chocolate strawberry, and that champagne was barely enough for the trip up. He was quite tired of éclairs by this time. All that cream could not be good for his digestive system. So incredibly engrossed was he in his predicament, he failed to notice an approaching figure. He also did not notice the figure nearly enter his balcony. Or speak to him. What he did notice, though, was the figures own package of snatched foodstuffs. Well, more like sensed them with his super Cy-to-yummy-things sense. But regardless, he noticed them , and naturally if there was high quality food, Cyril Bérenger had to act. Managing to somehow extirpate himself from his mountain of mess, he eagerly reached up towards the food. “Is this for me? A peace offering?” he inquired, already mentally adjusting his nighttime plans to fit another person and double the amount of food. It was only then that he noticed who exactly his guest was. “Oh. Hello there. If you let me eat this I’ll share my balcony with you. Maybe. I also won’t scream and cry like you’ve taken my ocular virginity when I see you grope a random woman.” A fair deal, really, if he did say so himself. But he could see where Rys may have his doubts, and so continued, “And if you haven’t noticed yet, this balcony offers a splendid view of the gardens. Do you like that fountain? I like that fountain. Girls like that fountain. And look!” here, he pointed towards the sky and whispered conspiratorially “Polaris is bright tonight.” Advertisement complete, he held out a hand for the food. Cy wasn’t completely greedy; of course he’d share a bit after he’d taken inventory. And Rys could have the rest of the éclairs if he wanted. To be honest, Cyril wouldn’t mind not eating another éclair for the rest of the evening. He wouldn’t promise “for the rest of his life” because that’d be a lie and lies are only for when you really need them. “I do hope you brought napkins; this might get messy.” A sort of awkward breeze may have made itself known just then. Whooosh.

TAGGED : TEAM CY-RYS. WORD COUNT : 455... NOTES : Sorry for the shortness? I'm not feeling particularly hungry/poetic right now. :<