Unfortunately, the doors close soon after, and the swirling mass of the party continues - in an even fuller swing, the patrons now on edge, ushering everyone to move, move, move, up spiraling stairs and across stone floors and even looming wooden beams.
Bruce keeps moving, never in one place long enough for anyone to notice him (or, at least, figure out what they saw). He begins to feel unnerved; he doesn't think these people are people. Constructs, maybe. Conjured or - the extended will of something else. It makes his skin crawl.
Even in the crowd Seoraj is easy to spot, and recognizable even with that mask - small miracles, his height - and Bruce makes some calculated passes around the main room, along with the flow of the dancers, until he's near him. The closer he gets the more detail he takes in, and he realizes the younger man can't get that thing off his face and probably can't really see. At least, he thinks bleakly, this erases the problem of wondering how he was going to make himself known to Seoraj without disarming his wards. Now it doesn't matter.
Finally near him, just behind to one side, Bruce paces him for a moment, lingering in frustrated inaction for a moment, but then - he reaches out. His touch is small but specific, and he hopes that despite his gloved fingers, the deliberateness of it (and the memory of how-and-where, after they came down off the mountain, after his ribs were broken) will bring identification but not alarm.
no subject
Bruce keeps moving, never in one place long enough for anyone to notice him (or, at least, figure out what they saw). He begins to feel unnerved; he doesn't think these people are people. Constructs, maybe. Conjured or - the extended will of something else. It makes his skin crawl.
Even in the crowd Seoraj is easy to spot, and recognizable even with that mask - small miracles, his height - and Bruce makes some calculated passes around the main room, along with the flow of the dancers, until he's near him. The closer he gets the more detail he takes in, and he realizes the younger man can't get that thing off his face and probably can't really see. At least, he thinks bleakly, this erases the problem of wondering how he was going to make himself known to Seoraj without disarming his wards. Now it doesn't matter.
Finally near him, just behind to one side, Bruce paces him for a moment, lingering in frustrated inaction for a moment, but then - he reaches out. His touch is small but specific, and he hopes that despite his gloved fingers, the deliberateness of it (and the memory of how-and-where, after they came down off the mountain, after his ribs were broken) will bring identification but not alarm.