- « INTRO ⇢ WINTERBALL.EXE » OVERFLOW

[poised]

Who: everyone, literally everyone
When: ooc: 04/25-04/26; ic: 12/26
Where: the Gardens
What: overflow of intro log + winter ball!
Rating/Warning: PG-13 | possibly nsfw (please let me know if you need this rating changed, or you are welcome to continue any naughty shenanigans in a private log)

//winterball.EXE Pimp My Party -- Royalty Style A few weeks prior to December 26th, an invitation went out to all whom already reside in Cerealia. In delicate, curling script, it read: You are cordially invited by Natalia L.K. Lanvaldear to a Winter Ball to be held on the Eve of December 26th in the Gardens. Dress in your best attire and enjoy a magical evening of dance and fine cuisine. What do you mean we should fuss about worlds being destroyed? Get into the holiday spirit, you scrooge! And in regards to the new-comers: whether you have been wandering Cerealia over the course of the past few days and managed to receive one of the later waves of invitations or have simply suddenly appeared in the gardens with nothing but the (hopefully…. appropriate….) clothes on your back, welcome. The gardens have been transformed through the work of slave labor condoned by royalty incredibly talented volunteers. A buffet line possibly a mile long, a sprawling dance floor with temporary wood placement to cover the grass, a lovely orchestra with scheduled interruptions of magic shows on the stage, and the entire thing lit gently with lights stretch the span of the main area of the garden. Not too far off, there are ponds and pathways that take you elsewhere into the foliage, but why would you go that way? The party’s right here! "Good evening, everyone!! Whether you are new to Tellus or old, I hope to find you in good spirits. Mind you, I do not intend to ignore the blunders of CERES nor the grave situation that new-comers have found themselves faced with. However I assure you that at this time, surrounded by these people, you are in good company. Please, dine and be merry - I believe some worlds celebrated a holiday yesterday! Get to know one another so we may strengthen our ties and stand firm against whatever this world may throw against us! Also try the salmon, it's absolutely divine. . . . How do I turn this off...? Should I just walk away?"

//SCENARIOS.EXE PHASE I [ xxxx ] Like any respectable ball, your entrance is announced as you walk right into the party! What do you mean you wanted to slip in unnoticed? That simply won’t do. Natalia managed to rope in someone – is that a Tellus native? – to do the honor of acknowledging your character as they make their debut to the ball. This guy is under strict orders to not miss a single soul. If your character doesn’t give him a name and title ahead of time, then he’ll just make something up. Think along the lines of Broseidon McSnootyname, Duke of Erectile Dysfunction-- What do you mean that’s not your name? PHASE II [ xxxx ] Absolutely no expense was spared when it came to making sure that the food here was the best that money could buy (or threats could extort). Guests can select from a menagerie of main dishes from all sorts of cultures, adorable desserts that look like woodland creatures alongside towering cakes, and even those fruity drinks with the little umbrellas on them. Pig out, you animals – but there’s also a wide selection of fine wine if your tastes and curiosities wander off in that direction…. What even is the drinking age in Tellus? Remember, folks, drink (ir)responsibly. PHASE III [ xxxx ] Well, it is a ball. If you’re interested in proper, classical styles of dance, there’s certainly an orchestra that’s dominating most of the night. One of their songs may or may not sound familiar. Spin around in your flurry of skirts and do the fairy tale thing if that’s what you came here for. Romance, or whatever. Waltz your heart out and don’t forget to point your toes! … that said, there’s also a separate sound system not too far, prepared in case the orchestra might want a break. It’s also not being watched too closely. Maybe put on something to liven up the dance floor? Or did someone ruin your fantasy by putting on something unbearably inappropriate? PHASE IV [ xxxx ] The gardens really are beautiful. Spread throughout the area and more toward the outskirts of the party, there are plenty of beautiful fountains with glittering, crystal clear water. In fact, it’s so clear that you can spot the occasional alien life form flitting through it amidst the lily pads and gently sweeping foliage. It’s so graceful, what beauty! Look at how it rises to the water and gently opens its mouth into a yawn and—tries to chomp anything within range right off with razor sharp teeth what the fuck, whatthefuck. It would appear that's not all, though. Whether you're ready to fight the creature or run screaming, you feel something slowly slide and curl around your arm or your ankle. Look on in horror as you turn your head and realize that it seems that the nearby tree has grown rather fond of you very quickly, to the extent that it will reach out and lovingly wrap its hentai tentacles around you.... Brings a whole 'nother meaning to 'tree hugger', doesn't it? BONUS [ whyo'clock ] Are you lost? Did you try to catch your breath away from the party and start to wander off despite all the cautioning not to? Or maybe you were trying to leave and took a wrong turn? Either way, you seem to have only found yourself deeper in the gardens now. Try not to breathe too deeply or… at all. If you can’t manage that though, it appears that you’ve stumbled upon the hallucinogenic plants of the garden. You start to see things that aren’t there – though whether you suddenly find yourself in a den of cougars lions or think that the person standing next to you is the biggest, cuddliest pile of adorable puppies in the world depends on the person. Hope you have a good trip, bruh. [ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with trigger-y or inappropriate material and do let me know (through FAQ comment or PM preferably!) if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so I can lock the log. ]

//RUN.EXE Welcome to CEREALIA's latest intro post overflow! It's a bit early but just to make sure the transition for everyone over here was captcha-free. This one is player-run and all the basics have been laid out for you here. Absolutely feel free to come up with your own prompts and post new intros! For your convenience, I whole-heartedly welcome questions and inquiries being directed to my attention here and I'll answer them to the best of my ability! Have a ball! Enjoy!!

Comments

phase iii!

[cordated]

[ three minutes in and haru ditches him in search of the fabled ponds sequestered somewhere in the gardens. it's disappointing, but not unexpected, given that it'd taken nothing less than first-class enticement with pools, like makoto's usefulness was only proportional with immense bodies of water. forlorn, he spends some time meandering in and out of crowds seeking out his friends before turning to the refreshments stand for refuge. emotional intelligence really only went so far in impeding makoto's preternatural ability to make rash decisions. in any case, he doesn't bother thinking too deeply when indulging in drinks of the questionable (suspicious) variety.

it's only when he's staring back at the dredges of the fifth cup he's downed that lightheadedness really sets in, so makoto resigns himself to standing off to one side to spectate on the better part of the night, elbows hooked back on a nondescript table, mouth curved in a dopey, lenient smile. inebriation's phased out what little skittishness he managed to retain on arrival — he's fumbling just to keep his fingers properly splayed around his drink, tension rapidly melting away in lieu of a feverish giddiness. when someone manages to snag the hand left dormant at his side, it's all makoto can do to insouciantly hand off his cup to a passing waiter. ]

Oh! Hey, hey. Are you sure?

[ even his uncertainty falls flat under scrutiny.

makoto allows himself to be reeled onto the lacquered floor and messily pitch in-step, back and forth, back and forth. he breaks out in laughter after the first swiveling turn, resplendent with laughter and a good deal of alcohol-induced hyperactivity.

eventually, he settles for steadying his gaze at point-blank range on kisumi, roughly boasting the same degree of inebriated levity typically sported by guys who eschewed logic for spontaneity. this close, they're practically the concept of mimicry in practice. ... well, whatever. when the music trickles to a momentary lull, he leans in, eyes incredulously wide and taking over his face. ]

You didn't tell me you knew how to dance, Kisumi. That's so ... so unfair.

[ beneath the breathy undertone and slipshod amusement, makoto sounds absolutely scandalized. ]

sparkles so intensely at

[basketbro]

[ kisumi is bouncing, moving from social group to social group. with even less ties here than he had back home in his own school, he has the freedom to move in and out. to say something, to smile at someone, and to move on again. he rotates around the ball like he's comfortable here, like he's been here before, like this isn't the first time he's been out of his job or classes since he arrived.

granted, he can act as comfortable as he pleases. but after a while he always ends up gravitating back to the few people he knows, the few he doesn't have to try for. he gravitates back after making his way around the dance-floor and of course it's makoto he spies first, looking eased by the drinks, the party. kisumi has already dawned the smirk by the time he makes it over to his friend, slipping his hand in makoto's unoccupied one, all grins by the time makoto turns to see him. ]

Of course! [ he laughs, tugging makoto out into the middle of the floor. an already solid confidence is only spurred on further by the addition of alcohol, so where kisumi might have thought things through, thought about anything else in particular, he just blazes forward. kisumi pulls makoto into the steps easily enough, laughing at the looks the other is giving him, grinning as he swivels them, spins him, every movement fluid and a little careless through the haze of the night and the alcohol.

it's not until the music lulls and makoto is there, leaning in right close, and kisumi has thoughts. ]

Of course I can dance! [ easy smiles, easy grins, easy hyper-awareness of the entire room. ] It's all in the footwork, Makoto. My parents made sure I learned when I was young. [ and then another entirely unnecessary spin, as if just to prove a point, before he starts giggling breathily again. ] I never thought I'd really use it, but here we are!

hope you don't mind convoluted and horribly overdue, ghjsjhh

[cordated]

[ it feels unordinary, closing his palms over kisumi's hands in the form of a contrived entreaty, like makoto was the one who asked. dissent is the farthest thing from his mind. and that's to be expected, given his less than coherent state of mind, but —

the day is already winding down to an elongating night and makoto doesn't lack inhibitions as he forgoes the common propriety to refuse favors phrased as offers, suggestion thick on the tongue and purged of recompense. come to think of it, he doesn't have any qualms about dancing with a childhood friend, either. if anything, he's brazen, ignoring any nascent traces of high-brow sophistication on principle to plant his feet down mid-spin so they're hung like distended silhouettes at the northeastern corner of the lacquered dance floor, their hands snared in the air, the cast net of their fingers only coincidentally wound up in knots.

the lights ebb somewhere above them, mellowing down to liquid, snaring brightness. there's nothing refined about makoto at all, warring with conflicts of interest hands hot and knit just high enough to keep his companion from stumbling back. under the haze, kisumi's strangely rendered in fixed sharpness, like a switchblade made of slivered points, trading out his usual self-assurance for sheer, undisclosed insinuation.

in return, makoto hovers, releasing a clean rinse of a whistle, compulsion evident in his arching eyebrows. ]

You clean up good. I didn't really notice before? Guess it makes me kind of inadequate in comparison, ehehe.

[ the clarity of makoto's voice is promptly traded out for blotchy omissions: sort of homesick and sort of penitent even when he smiles back at him, punchy and sweet.

makoto releases kisumi only to loose draping around the set of the boy's shoulders, a kind of grounding even as his gaze skates along his partner's lanky frame to the ground, like his body has half a mind to go slantslide with enough insobriety. ]

Well, we've got all the time in the world now. Can you teach me?

not at all?????

[basketbro]

[ and then there's kisumi, who is more energized by the sense of extraordinary of it all. he is usually inspired by the social, by the meeting of people in places they would not normally frequent, but this is different. this is a sense of unnerve wrapped in the absurd - they're in a spaceship, abducted, because their home worlds have been destroyed. those are the facts they're given and yet here they are, in the midst of a christmas-time celebration, drunk enough to laugh at the fluid, easy way makoto moves.

he wonders, briefly, if makoto's ever been drunk before. wonders, briefly, if there would have ever been a moment back home that this could have been created. it's a kind of useless dream, futile in its wonder, so kisumi pushes the thought away to return to the steps they make, twirling around the floor. he's not entirely sure how they end up in the corner they inhabit, what thoughts or decisions pushed them this far from their original entrance, but makoto's body is warm through his suit and kisumi is just intoxicated enough to step a bit closer, to use his body to twirl them around.

and then there's a laugh, in response to the whistle, before kisumi is swinging his head for his bangs to move a bit out of his eyes. there's a smile playing on his lips as he watches makoto's arched brow. a near-mischievous kind of sparkle in his eye. ] I don't know if I should take that as a compliment. Did you think I always wore my school uniform? [ the comment is harmless, kidding in its questioning. but just to make it clear, kisumi's smile breaks into a near-laugh, shaking his head. ] Not at all! I think you look quite handsome, actually. The suit really works for you.

[ kisumi lets his eyes wander appreciatively down makoto's front before lifting them again with a smile. he could say more, really, but it's in that moment that makoto drapes over his shoulders and kisumi lets out a quiet, pleased sort of laugh, wrapping his arms around makoto's waist in response. ]

If that's what you want to learn. We could even start now, if you wanted.

cries on u!! also i hope ur con goes well ♥

[cordated]

[ even detached in inebriation, head ducked down whenever their arms jostled — just innocuous brushes when kisumi swung him in disparate turns — he isn't remotely plastered enough to be insensate to their current state of affairs. it hangs in his mind, sobering and dispassionate, parasitically feeding into his doubts. somewhere, it occurs to him as absurd: not so much the act of letting kisumi lead him around than fumbling his way through quickstep and faux-foxtrot like his parents and siblings weren't dead, shredded into code and digital excess. it always came trickling back, further than the trepidation and sundry anxieties, seeped indelibly into a portion of him he couldn't bear revealing to anyone. not haru, not rin, not kisumi, not his classmates or his friends. it'd been the same matter with the ocean, but then he'd ended up revealing that as well, exposing his weaknesses (and what he was).

a coward.

and it occurs to him, out-of-sync and gawkily tracing the outline of the steps that kisumi repeated in perfect conformity to ballroom niceties, that kisumi might've be the bravest out of them, smile composed and certain, always sure of himself. it didn't take a one-off dance to discern that he might've been using kisumi as a diversion from his own insecurities.

it's a little disheartening, but makoto endeavors to talk to him eventually — to speak to him in sincere earnest, better than what their rushed call had last afforded them, than all those snippets of text between them that couldn't possibly convey how utterly lost makoto was, itching anticipation in his bones leaving him fidgety, wired, overwrought with the need to keep the momentum going. but he stops, blinking hard at kisumi, arrantly drawn and inquiring, and his head dips, considering. it's an empathetically solemn tilt, like he's correcting him of some grievous mistake made in error, even when he holds him stationary, warring between capriciousness and sobriety in the same crushed breath. ] 'Course not. You have your basketball uniform, too.

[ stilled into quasi-seriousness, gauging kisumi's decidedly mirthful grin, and snorts, scrunching his nose in response. ]

... Well! Not really. I'm not used to wearing fancy things. It's a little embarrassing. Do you go to parties a lot or something? You're too comfortable with all of this.

[ under the influence, his flustering sheepishness doesn't quite connect with words, leaving them at a verbal, hemorrhaged disparity. if it wasn't for the restless jitter to his inflection, he could've been commenting on the weather. makoto hums when kisumi draws his arms around him, gaze softening, mouth pulled into a slightly deferential frown. ]

That'd be nice. Will you go easy on me? I'm only a novice.