Sear
chaos in a trenchcoat
scroll
control freak
val.
mood
presenting oneself as royalty
outfit
extravagant
location
tempe
interactions
everyone
tags
none
If there was a place that screamed money, it would be the towering spire that greeted Valen de Monte as he left his ride, eyes flicking upward to take in the sight. An action he regretted as soon his eyes met the reflective glare of the glass and were forced to squint. In the middle of the city, it could be considered the attraction that tugged everyone’s attention to itself. A sight that could be seen in the scurrying of people around him. Once in a while someone would pause, items in hand forgotten as they stared at the building with a mix of awe and bitter envy. Most hoped to find their way inside the spire, either to reap the benefits of its significance or to burn it down to the ground. Everyone had their own opinion on the rulings of the city. It was far too easy to read those same opinions on a person’s face when they were blatantly slapped in the face with the power of the rulers.
Val shifted his weight to rely on his cane, taking a moment to collect his bearings as he dropped his gaze and instead met the gaze steadily of a guard at the entrance of the building. There was a flash of recognition on the guard’s face and Val straightened and headed straight for the entrance, flicking out an invitation with one gloved hand from the pocket of his overcoat. He wasn’t here to marvel at the sights, nor relax in the shade of the park surrounding the spire - he had an event to attend if the invitation in his hand was anything to go by. It had come in the mail earlier in the week, shoved through his mail slot and unceremoniously dumped onto his apartment floor. As he presented it to the guard, there was a flash of the gold lettering that the guard read and then compared to the identity of the man standing in front of him. Val could sense the man scrutinizing him, but his focus was on the others who were heading through the doors. Most faces he could recognize, well known investors, business folk and alumni such as him. A thought forced its way into his mind, alas without his consent, the reminder of the impending deadline that had been taking up most of his energy.
Val’s attention was redirected to the guard, who was handing the invitation back to him and directing him through the doors. He didn’t care to respond, just a curt nod of his head as agreement and then he was headed in.
The underground levels of the building were a stark contrast to the dreariness that most expected. The air was crisp, punctuated by the fragrances from the plants that had claimed parts of the ceiling and the walls. A breeze sometimes kicked up, earning the question as to from where, as they were levels below the ground but the answer lay in magic and money. Or fans. Val didn’t particularly care. The room spread out in front of him, illuminated by chandeliers that cast their light down on the group of people quietly conversing. They had grouped together, glasses in hand as they exchanged pleasantries with smiles on their faces. Val was about to join their midst, and that he did, navigating the crowd with a glass poised in his hand too. He was slowly drifting toward the royals, greeting those he knew with the slightest change in the uptick of his lips and warmth in his voice. None seemed to be offended by his lack in showing emotion, instead they seemed to expect it, his aloofness well known in this circle.
Val shifted his weight to rely on his cane, taking a moment to collect his bearings as he dropped his gaze and instead met the gaze steadily of a guard at the entrance of the building. There was a flash of recognition on the guard’s face and Val straightened and headed straight for the entrance, flicking out an invitation with one gloved hand from the pocket of his overcoat. He wasn’t here to marvel at the sights, nor relax in the shade of the park surrounding the spire - he had an event to attend if the invitation in his hand was anything to go by. It had come in the mail earlier in the week, shoved through his mail slot and unceremoniously dumped onto his apartment floor. As he presented it to the guard, there was a flash of the gold lettering that the guard read and then compared to the identity of the man standing in front of him. Val could sense the man scrutinizing him, but his focus was on the others who were heading through the doors. Most faces he could recognize, well known investors, business folk and alumni such as him. A thought forced its way into his mind, alas without his consent, the reminder of the impending deadline that had been taking up most of his energy.
"Right this way, Sir de Monte"
Val’s attention was redirected to the guard, who was handing the invitation back to him and directing him through the doors. He didn’t care to respond, just a curt nod of his head as agreement and then he was headed in.
The underground levels of the building were a stark contrast to the dreariness that most expected. The air was crisp, punctuated by the fragrances from the plants that had claimed parts of the ceiling and the walls. A breeze sometimes kicked up, earning the question as to from where, as they were levels below the ground but the answer lay in magic and money. Or fans. Val didn’t particularly care. The room spread out in front of him, illuminated by chandeliers that cast their light down on the group of people quietly conversing. They had grouped together, glasses in hand as they exchanged pleasantries with smiles on their faces. Val was about to join their midst, and that he did, navigating the crowd with a glass poised in his hand too. He was slowly drifting toward the royals, greeting those he knew with the slightest change in the uptick of his lips and warmth in his voice. None seemed to be offended by his lack in showing emotion, instead they seemed to expect it, his aloofness well known in this circle.
“Ah, Miss Soto. I see your business has been treating you well.”
Val greeted a woman clad in fur with a tilt of his head to show his respects. She responded, but he only subconsciously registered her words, his eyes being drawn to the royals on the other side of the room. He apologized to the woman, but she was already distracted by someone else’s greeting and he finally made his way over to them.♡coded by uxie♡
scroll
comic reflief
Jack.
mood
shady methods bring rewards
outfit
walked out of a thrift shop
location
tempe
interactions
everyone and their pocket
tags
none
Ah, man. Jack was certain that this old man sitting on the corner of the street on the bench was not enjoying his presence. Well, whatever, that was the usual experience. He scooted closer to him, leaning against the backpack that had been placed between the two of them. The man leaned back, eyes wide as he tried extremely hard to put more distance between the two of them. Personal space, who?
Usual response from people interacting with him. Jack grinned at the protest, and then pulled away,
White hair fell into eyes, and he flicked it away absentmindedly, his hands falling to the pins on his clothes as he tugged at them, jerky movements that tested their latches. A watch was a pathetic gain from this day, so he needed something else. Turning a corner he was met with the spire of Tempe and the activity surrounding it. Cars were pausing in front of the building, valets directing the flow as folk were directed in the building.
Marvelous. This was exactly what he was talking about.
It had been too easy to make his way inside this event. A hand into one’s pocket, a smile flashed at someone else and a sob story to the guard until they frowned and ushered him in and he was finally in. The only issue was that his appearance was well, a sore spot, in the middle of this crowd. When most were dressed in extravagant clothes that he was certain had been custom ordered, he was clad in a lavender sweater and black cargo pants that he had bought on sale. It had been a good sale at least, and the pockets were handy to house whatever items he borrowed forever from folk he crashed into or brushed against.
Which he proceeded to do.
His shoulder slammed into a passerby, fingers slipping inside the pocket for a moment and then into his own pockets. He stumbled away, hands thrown up with his eyes widened for the effect as he set his mouth off pulling whatever first came to mind. The drinks that most guests held were on the forefront of his mind so he rolled with it.
“I can assure you, that this bird was a fine specimen of a -”
Jack’s chattering was abruptly cut off by the man throwing his hands up at him and loudly protesting. He was certainly a bit older than him, maybe by at least thirty years, and had been trying to read before Jack had joined him to wait for the public transportation.“Young man, I beg you, please shut the hell up.”
Usual response from people interacting with him. Jack grinned at the protest, and then pulled away,
“Right, certainly of course.”
As he apologized to him profusely, to their disdain, he was already standing up and leaving. His job was done. There was a new weight in his pocket, a watch that the old man was now missing from their backpack, something he was certain they would only discover when he was halfway back home.White hair fell into eyes, and he flicked it away absentmindedly, his hands falling to the pins on his clothes as he tugged at them, jerky movements that tested their latches. A watch was a pathetic gain from this day, so he needed something else. Turning a corner he was met with the spire of Tempe and the activity surrounding it. Cars were pausing in front of the building, valets directing the flow as folk were directed in the building.
Marvelous. This was exactly what he was talking about.
It had been too easy to make his way inside this event. A hand into one’s pocket, a smile flashed at someone else and a sob story to the guard until they frowned and ushered him in and he was finally in. The only issue was that his appearance was well, a sore spot, in the middle of this crowd. When most were dressed in extravagant clothes that he was certain had been custom ordered, he was clad in a lavender sweater and black cargo pants that he had bought on sale. It had been a good sale at least, and the pockets were handy to house whatever items he borrowed forever from folk he crashed into or brushed against.
Which he proceeded to do.
His shoulder slammed into a passerby, fingers slipping inside the pocket for a moment and then into his own pockets. He stumbled away, hands thrown up with his eyes widened for the effect as he set his mouth off pulling whatever first came to mind. The drinks that most guests held were on the forefront of his mind so he rolled with it.
“Oh, gosh. I am so sorry. Are you alright? You see I was just hurrying to get to the bar on the other side. You saw the bar right? Well it’s great, and the drinks are on the house here. I didn’t want them to accidentally run out of coffee, you know. Like, imagine if they did. Then what would I do? I’m telling you, it would be absolutely terrible. Right - that reminds me, I should definitely go and get myself some uh, ah yes, coffee.”
♡coded by uxie♡
Last edited: