Opexos - Home :: Submission (#362)

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Gibblemung

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Sinister Soirée

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9 November 2024, 16:32:15 UTC (1 month ago)

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30 November 2024, 16:58:15 UTC (1 month ago) by TCS

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<h2>A Hallow Offering</h2>
Tic, tic, tic, tic. The sharp leg-ends of Ksyndrie sounded upon the marble floor as the sounds of crowd and party picked up at the end of the hall. She had applied spooky whorls and a skull motif to the porcelain mask, eye-holes gently leaking her black smoke that faded to gray a few digit-widths away. Her usual thurible dangled from her left hand, chains jingling softly, lent a slightly somber or sinister tone by the size of the hall. She had even applied a dress that only left her wings and lightly hooded tail free, a wispy black that made her appear to be a head, hands, tail, and wings floating about a smoked mist. Aipex’s glowing white eyes and her own scale-edged markings stood out through the materials in an additional haunting set of details, unheeded by the monster. It was time to party, apparently.
The door opened for her, into a crowded ball of monsters, false-monsters, and rich sights and sounds. A tightening of ruby claws managed a slight jangle of the chains, as some eyes closest to the door took in the newcomer. Several of the less-costumed and overall less-dressed sorts approached. “Oh, look at you!” a Western female of gray and yellow fur chirped, stepping around her to get an inspection from all directions. “...exquisite costume! How did you get those wings to look-” She cut off as Ksyndrie stretched her wings, the webbed giant hands with gleaming talons very lightly brushing the others with the outsides, opening a bit of space.
“Sweet gods.” A Western male with golden hues and a dapper suit breathed beneath his own mask. “Enchantment? Prosthetics? How did you manage such a costume? And why haven’t we talked about such before?”
simple lack of interaction Her smoke clenched into words above the thurible, drawing another small round of gasps. That was magic, unmistakably. Aipex was laughing internally at the discomfiture of its host upon being slightly swarmed at a costume party. You wanted to come here, it reminded her, in that droll near-whisper of a mental tickle. They’re either delirious or insane. Ksyndrie returned, her own internal voice a strong alto. A possible singer’s voice, had she the training or lack of negative reaction outside of events such as this. direct a lady to a drink, please? her text shifted for the onlookers.
“Oh, our manners!” Another almost took her right arm, but something about the slight tense of the scaled female simply shifted the reach to a gentle beckon toward the refreshments, as Ksyndrie folded her wings again. Simple introductions, pretending to sip a drink through a straw despite the mask, and enjoying the music and repressed nervousness at the impressions and disguises of ‘monsters.’
Naturally, real monsters were among them this night, unbeknownst to the common party-goers. Chief among them, naturally, were the hosts, the more renowned of the staff, and the tempters of Berkir. Ksyndrie simply awaited an opening to approach the Lord of the Manor and dipped a graceful curtsey of respect. A shift of claws dipped into a ‘pocket’ of the wispy dress, retrieving a shimmering item hidden in a fold tucked between scales. She had brought a rainbow wisp token in appreciation for the hosts. Her explorations had led her down creepy paths, through quiet and noisy carnival moments alike, past forests, and through hardship.
Capturing the darting bright things and coalescing them into a mixed vial to display the soul-essence of the place had been the easy part. Negotiating with/bribing the inhabitants to divulge recipes and skills to compress the gleaming liquid into badges of mastery and currency was significantly more challenging, even as a welcomed visitor. Her token of triumph and fulfillment of experience as a guest was offered forth to the host. Surely he had piles of such of his own, certainly he could obtain more by simple request or demand, but a freely-offered tribute from a monster who had been welcomed as a guest… it was at least special to her, and the best tribute she could come up with on short notice. thank you the text floated above her left hand, scented of pine and pumpkin. She had no eyes to well with appreciative tears, no breath to catch in emotional sounds or hesitation. No impressive alteration of size or strength swelled her form, and no manipulation of emotions or visions danced about her. Simple, pure gratitude and honesty was her offering, along with the token held forth between brilliant ruby claws.
The Lord of Berkir could, of course, laugh off her offering or make an example of the small token. He could display some of the renowned strength or even potentially capture the monster for his own purposes. Other than the “Goddess” of Blood and Illusion, who would know? Just another incense shop closed due to lack of interest and a vanished proprietress. Still, what purpose would cruelty serve? The locals seemed to love their leaders, and some were nearly as monstrous as she. A calculated risk, but possibly the beginnings of more than simple party attendance. The smokey eye-holes stared, waiting.

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Unvivos	100

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