TIMESTAMP: 3 Cinderfall, 122
NOTES: -
NOTES: -
► Show Spoiler
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The sun was setting. Time to move. Much as Æros absolutely did not want to move a single muscle, he knew that he, at least, should. Did he need the money? Meh, not really. Despite the fact that his family bitched endlessly about his existence, his sister who’d taken pity on him since he was young regularly sent him money to take care of his basic needs. Beyond that, whatever he actually earned he could do as he pleased. Realistically, she was enabling him, but she didn’t have the heart to stop.
It was not the money that drew him out that night or any other. Rather, it was the allure of the attention he would receive in addition to not having to pay for a single thing he’d imbibe. Getting trashed for free had its perks for somebody like him. Either he’d guilt one of his fellow performers for something of theirs or clients would buy things for him; he was set pretty much any time he went out. With that being his figurative carrot on a stick, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled across the room to get at least partially dressed.
Though what he wore when he exited his building was comparatively simple to that which he performed in, it served its purpose well: to draw eyes his way. Which, frankly, was because it covered remarkably little. On his torso, he donned not much more than a cape. For the most part, it was black, but as the fabric extended down his back, it would shift to a sort of translucent, lavender-tinted fog. For contrast, intricate patterns of gold lined the edges of the cloak, extending up around the collar of fairly regal design. Both sides connected by only a couple thin gold chains, the design served to lure a viewer’s eye to the proudly displayed rune inscribed on bare skin.
If one were to continue down, the same gold lining dipped just below where obliques met lower abdominals. Following the hem flowed yet more semi-translucent cloth of the same lavender shade that the cape faded into. It wasn’t a full skirt, no; it was split at the hips and then once in the back creating three distinct pieces, alike to the petals of a flower in shape. Though underneath he wore full length pants deep black in shade, they, too, were split at the sides and hung loosely. As he walked, the light from the stars on his skin bounced off pieces of fabric and offered an observer just the right amount of skin.
For some, it was better to let your body speak for itself rather than to overcomplicate things with layer upon layer of fabric. For Æros, this was certainly true– such a thing was nice, especially given how damnably hot it could get here. Since he spent most of his time in the Umbrium, he was not often in direct sunlight and while the rock surrounding him offered some protection from heat, he found dressing in much more to be…stifling. This was likely an artefact of his ancestors being Winter Court.
As he made his way to the establishment wherein he worked, he received no shortage of attention, most of which he outwardly ignored, appearing austere. Internally, however? He loved it. Few would be audacious enough to lay a hand on him, partially because from size and apparent strength alone, he could dispose of a typical human pretty easily. Yet that was not all; in general, it would be…unwise to harass somebody of his blood. And thus, he was free to flaunt himself however he wished.
The journey was not long. It also did not take him long to ready himself once he arrived and made his way to the back– again, it served him better to wear less of most things. The only adjustments he bothered to make to his appearance were to cover his skin in a thin layer of oil, then to remove the cape and replace it with a rather large gold collar, extending up the entirety of his neck, elongating it, and rounding out at the top of his collarbones. Whatever the material was, it appeared metallic yet flowed with the contours and movements of his body with ease. He did not know what it was and didn’t care to question it. From this hung a fair few chains of gold along with thicker plating, like scales, to trace down his spine. Interwoven, the metal laced over his shoulders and crossed from chest to back in simple yet enticing patterns that only vaguely resembled a prisoner’s shackles. With the addition of some few rings and bracelets, he was ready before most of the other performers.
Though this particular nightclub was on the higher end of the spectrum price and quality wise, one could find ways to fulfill all manner of desires within its opulent walls. Indeed, a higher budget and richer clientele would afford more than one could find elsewhere. For now, however, Æros settled for a few shots and bumming whatever the hell a friend of his had on hand, taking several without giving the other man a chance to even tell him what it was. Granted, such behavior was generally expected from him– his friends shrugged it off and just handed him shit at this point.
A stage can be a scary place for some. For others, a sanctuary. For Æros, it was the latter. The lights were near to blinding; he could barely see the audience anyways. Despite the fact that he’d consumed enough of, ah, whatever, to get him relatively trashed, one would be hard pressed to tell. On stage, he stood center, flanked by four others dressed deliberately down– they served more as moving set pieces than anything else. The stage itself was lavish and of appropriate size for this many people, give or take a few. Aside from the dancers, it was empty; the only accessory needed were lights. And, in this case, it would shift and adapt to the choreography as the dancers moved through their performance, lovingly operated by people who considered their work to be an art in and of itself. Which, frankly, it was.
If one were to try and place a name on the type of dance being performed, it would be hard to call it anything else other than a promiscuous sort of…contemporary. In reality, it was a combination of varying other styles woven together in a way that was both sensuous and graceful. It toed the line of sex appeal and art without ever becoming too gratuitous, though one could easily make the argument that in some respects, it was. Despite that, their movements possessed enough style and class to never come off as sleazy.
To watch the man of stars move was a whole performance in and of itself. As different lights drew themselves over his skin, colors from within would bounce off and coruscate with the stars as they moved over his frame. Oil slicked skin looked almost glassy in texture, yet at the same time, maintained the tell-tale bounce and softness one would come to expect from flesh. One could see galaxies in his body, lovingly embroidered onto a figure that embodied both the magnificence of the heavens and mortal, masculine perfection with just the right amount of feminine undertones.
Though this club was a hybrid of a dance club and sort of performance center, more than usual would halt whatever it was they were doing just for him. On the same token, there was evident disappointment when it came time for curtain call. However, once that bell rang, he was done. Æros had zero interest in doing any more– wanting to relax and abuse the privileges his workplace provided him for being so very popular.
And thus, when he was finished, he wandered out from back stage to a part of the lounge area that was popular in particular with employees. Joining three of his colleagues, he sat lazily, leaning back into the blush velvet of the sofa resting the back of his head on the top of it, legs resting agape. Poking one of the women next to him, he whispered something to her– inaudible. She looked at him with a quirk of her brow and, if one could read lips, said something along the lines of, ‘Really? Haven’t you had enough?’ To this, he simply shrugged and gave her an innocent, saccharine sort of grin. She rolled her eyes, dipped a manicured hand into her bag, and passed something over to him before returning to her conversation with another.
After taking it, Æros would appear to sigh, eyes closing as if in waiting.
It was not the money that drew him out that night or any other. Rather, it was the allure of the attention he would receive in addition to not having to pay for a single thing he’d imbibe. Getting trashed for free had its perks for somebody like him. Either he’d guilt one of his fellow performers for something of theirs or clients would buy things for him; he was set pretty much any time he went out. With that being his figurative carrot on a stick, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled across the room to get at least partially dressed.
Though what he wore when he exited his building was comparatively simple to that which he performed in, it served its purpose well: to draw eyes his way. Which, frankly, was because it covered remarkably little. On his torso, he donned not much more than a cape. For the most part, it was black, but as the fabric extended down his back, it would shift to a sort of translucent, lavender-tinted fog. For contrast, intricate patterns of gold lined the edges of the cloak, extending up around the collar of fairly regal design. Both sides connected by only a couple thin gold chains, the design served to lure a viewer’s eye to the proudly displayed rune inscribed on bare skin.
If one were to continue down, the same gold lining dipped just below where obliques met lower abdominals. Following the hem flowed yet more semi-translucent cloth of the same lavender shade that the cape faded into. It wasn’t a full skirt, no; it was split at the hips and then once in the back creating three distinct pieces, alike to the petals of a flower in shape. Though underneath he wore full length pants deep black in shade, they, too, were split at the sides and hung loosely. As he walked, the light from the stars on his skin bounced off pieces of fabric and offered an observer just the right amount of skin.
For some, it was better to let your body speak for itself rather than to overcomplicate things with layer upon layer of fabric. For Æros, this was certainly true– such a thing was nice, especially given how damnably hot it could get here. Since he spent most of his time in the Umbrium, he was not often in direct sunlight and while the rock surrounding him offered some protection from heat, he found dressing in much more to be…stifling. This was likely an artefact of his ancestors being Winter Court.
As he made his way to the establishment wherein he worked, he received no shortage of attention, most of which he outwardly ignored, appearing austere. Internally, however? He loved it. Few would be audacious enough to lay a hand on him, partially because from size and apparent strength alone, he could dispose of a typical human pretty easily. Yet that was not all; in general, it would be…unwise to harass somebody of his blood. And thus, he was free to flaunt himself however he wished.
The journey was not long. It also did not take him long to ready himself once he arrived and made his way to the back– again, it served him better to wear less of most things. The only adjustments he bothered to make to his appearance were to cover his skin in a thin layer of oil, then to remove the cape and replace it with a rather large gold collar, extending up the entirety of his neck, elongating it, and rounding out at the top of his collarbones. Whatever the material was, it appeared metallic yet flowed with the contours and movements of his body with ease. He did not know what it was and didn’t care to question it. From this hung a fair few chains of gold along with thicker plating, like scales, to trace down his spine. Interwoven, the metal laced over his shoulders and crossed from chest to back in simple yet enticing patterns that only vaguely resembled a prisoner’s shackles. With the addition of some few rings and bracelets, he was ready before most of the other performers.
Though this particular nightclub was on the higher end of the spectrum price and quality wise, one could find ways to fulfill all manner of desires within its opulent walls. Indeed, a higher budget and richer clientele would afford more than one could find elsewhere. For now, however, Æros settled for a few shots and bumming whatever the hell a friend of his had on hand, taking several without giving the other man a chance to even tell him what it was. Granted, such behavior was generally expected from him– his friends shrugged it off and just handed him shit at this point.
A stage can be a scary place for some. For others, a sanctuary. For Æros, it was the latter. The lights were near to blinding; he could barely see the audience anyways. Despite the fact that he’d consumed enough of, ah, whatever, to get him relatively trashed, one would be hard pressed to tell. On stage, he stood center, flanked by four others dressed deliberately down– they served more as moving set pieces than anything else. The stage itself was lavish and of appropriate size for this many people, give or take a few. Aside from the dancers, it was empty; the only accessory needed were lights. And, in this case, it would shift and adapt to the choreography as the dancers moved through their performance, lovingly operated by people who considered their work to be an art in and of itself. Which, frankly, it was.
If one were to try and place a name on the type of dance being performed, it would be hard to call it anything else other than a promiscuous sort of…contemporary. In reality, it was a combination of varying other styles woven together in a way that was both sensuous and graceful. It toed the line of sex appeal and art without ever becoming too gratuitous, though one could easily make the argument that in some respects, it was. Despite that, their movements possessed enough style and class to never come off as sleazy.
To watch the man of stars move was a whole performance in and of itself. As different lights drew themselves over his skin, colors from within would bounce off and coruscate with the stars as they moved over his frame. Oil slicked skin looked almost glassy in texture, yet at the same time, maintained the tell-tale bounce and softness one would come to expect from flesh. One could see galaxies in his body, lovingly embroidered onto a figure that embodied both the magnificence of the heavens and mortal, masculine perfection with just the right amount of feminine undertones.
Though this club was a hybrid of a dance club and sort of performance center, more than usual would halt whatever it was they were doing just for him. On the same token, there was evident disappointment when it came time for curtain call. However, once that bell rang, he was done. Æros had zero interest in doing any more– wanting to relax and abuse the privileges his workplace provided him for being so very popular.
And thus, when he was finished, he wandered out from back stage to a part of the lounge area that was popular in particular with employees. Joining three of his colleagues, he sat lazily, leaning back into the blush velvet of the sofa resting the back of his head on the top of it, legs resting agape. Poking one of the women next to him, he whispered something to her– inaudible. She looked at him with a quirk of her brow and, if one could read lips, said something along the lines of, ‘Really? Haven’t you had enough?’ To this, he simply shrugged and gave her an innocent, saccharine sort of grin. She rolled her eyes, dipped a manicured hand into her bag, and passed something over to him before returning to her conversation with another.
After taking it, Æros would appear to sigh, eyes closing as if in waiting.
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'Thoughts'
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
