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All good things bloom technicolor [I.S. Pre-canon]
Forum-Index → Roleplay → Private RP → All good things bloom technicolor [I.S. Pre-canon]
Posted: Tue, 14/05/2024 02:43 (6 Months ago)
My eyes illuminated in so many shades...
Which flower pleases you, darling?
I'll take the finest of your heart's supply
XX. INTRODUCTION
"Monarch Butterfly"
𝐷𝐸𝑍𝐸𝑅𝐴𝐸 𝐿𝐼
Dezerae snapped out of her reverie as the elegant shuttle-bus jolted to a stop, one hand reached out to steady herself. A sizeable crowd swelled over the banks of the street, alive and pulsing like something hungry. Even from within the car, Dezerae could sense her audience's excitement and it caused her to shift in the butter-soft seats of the coach. Stately and solemn-faced attendants in fine-pressed tuxedos opened the door before stepping aside to let her pass. A quick glance back revealed the Regrator sitting with his eyes turned forward, a serene facade covering up his stoic irritation at being dragged so far from his usual state of affairs. Pantalone was socially adept enough to mask his reaction so that the pincushion he was sitting on could be hard wood, but to a trained eye, his displeasure was palpable.
She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her mentor and she patted his wrist, adorned with a glittering silver watch. "Regrator. I've seen cats happier. You're not fooling anyone, and certainly not me." She quipped dryly, a playful smile turning her lips, "There's no need to pretend to be excited or flustered for my sake. And if you must insist, I'm sure that you'll find a way to make good use of the time. I heard we've turned out quite the crowd this afternoon." Pantalone's sourness needed no more cure than a change of mind, and with a muffled chuckle, she exited the coach. The sunlight was muted through her sunglasses as she reached back to help him out. He rejected it briskly before stepping out himself, light catching in his raven locks. Silver chain swayed in the light, glinting coldly as he took in the scene with a heavy sigh.
Dezerae shook her head and turned away from his brusqueness; guilt at the prospect of thrusting Pantalone so far out of his element dissolved at the excitement of seeing him step forth into these gilded halls. Was she being selfish? She rubbed her rejected hand with exaggerated ruefulness as she sought a way to assuage Pantalone's state of mind. She would not glance back at him once until they had entered the gilded halls, where classical music hung ethereal and faint upon its pearly white walls. She quickly pocketed her shades to take in the spectacle. Sober businessmen and their families filled the room with idle chatter with children hanging around their parents side so as not to interfere. Grand pillars upheld the walls between crimson booths reserved for the elite. Angelic choirs of young aspiring voices hung above it all.
She caught her mentor fixing his glasses as he scanned the scenery like a hawk, eyes sharpening with observation and analyses. Social situations were one of her mentor's many strengths, weaving words into deceptive tapestries of promise as he struck one contract or another. Large gatherings were the Fatui's hunting grounds, especially with minds distracted by good wine and the performances ahead.
dress | concert attire
Posted: Tue, 14/05/2024 23:35 (6 Months ago)
Estella Blake
With one more defining twist to the face-framing pieces of her hair, the stylist steps back from the vanity, silently appreciating the final result of their craft in the mirror. It had been a long time since Estella had allowed herself the luxury of having someone else pamper her. Although it had not been much of a relaxing experience, the hands that delicately wandered across her skin and petted her silken ash-blonde waves made her skin crawl. Just this once, however, she’d endure the feeling of vulnerability, only so that she wouldn’t have to stress over doing everything all by herself. After all, it had been her father’s suggestion - insistence, rather - to have one of his stylists from Illusion Studios prepare her for the event this afternoon.
The stylist gently offered her a helping hand, guiding her to stand up from the bench so that Estella could see her outfit in its entirety. As she rises, her petite frame is clad in a simple, champagne-colored cotton dress. The flowy skirt drapes over her smooth skin, a slit in the fabric revealing her right leg as she moves, adding a touch of elegance. A beaded waistband cinches around her midriff: an intricate hand-sewn piece that has required many hours alone to create. From her neck hangs a thin rose-gold chain, embellished with a single shimmering diamond charm. Her nails are freshly manicured, sporting classic French tips. And on her feet, she wears ankle-strap heels in the same champagne hue. The overall costume is not too extravagant - pretty lackluster considering her wealth - but carefully chosen to enhance Estella's soft features.
"Hold still." The stylist's voice was low and commanding as they spoke, her fingers gently caressing Estella's skin as they tenderly took her hand in theirs. Estella couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation as the stylist reached for a small vial and spritzed its contents onto the pulse points of her skin. The sweet scent of vanilla and jasmine immediately filled the air. As she inhaled deeply, she couldn't help but notice the way the stylist's eyes seemed to darken with desire. "There - how do you feel?"
"I feel... great," Estella says as she pivots her body back to the vanity mirror, purposely turning away from the predatory gaze, her reflection showing a slight smile gracing her face to support the sincerity in her voice. "Thank you."
A lighthearted chuckle sounds from behind her, "I'm glad. Your father has quite the eye for talent, you know. We at Illusion Studios rarely miss the mark."
"I'm grateful for the opportunity to be able to work with such talented individuals."
There's a brief silence between the two. Estella's fingers anxiously twirled and rearranged a few curls that she decided didn't sit quite to her liking on her head, focusing solely on perfecting her appearance rather than on the pair of eyes boring into her. She could see their unreadable expression in the mirror from the corner of her eye, and not knowing their true thoughts made her uncomfortable.
"Miss Blake, please stop fussing, you look fine - stunning, even. I won't keep you any longer, your father is waiting for you."
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before turning to the stylist with a gracious smile. With a quick nod, she thanks them for their work once more. As she turns to leave, her heels click against the flooring, her confident gait a practiced habit. She descends the staircase of her family's opulent home, being meticulous so as not to trip on the light fabric of her gown that trails behind her. At the bottom, her father awaits her, his tailored suit and perfectly knotted tie exuding wealth and authority. He shakes his head in disapproval as he watches his daughter's descent with her usual aloof expression.
“Stelle - I didn’t pass my good looks on to you for you to look so miserable,” Callistus jests, prodding at her cheek, prompting Estella to shoot him a sardonic grin, “Lighten up a little. You never have a second chance to make a first impression.”
The blonde scoffs, rolling her eyes, “You’re so obnoxious: it’s embarrassing.”
“You don’t mean that. But, I suppose that means I can’t get a picture with ma étoile then, either?”
“Absolutely not. Now, are we leaving, before you make us late?”