multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who: falsejezebel, inkstainedsword, and edsidlemirth
What: A drink with an old friend(?) before an outing with a new one
Where: Some classy bar, then uh somewhere featuring a lovely ballet
When: last Veerdi, early evening on into night
Warnings: None?

Another ~~Friday~~Veerdi off, another night out, though Aimery had much classier intentions than the last. He dressed for the ballet in his nicest gray suit paired with his new bowler hat and his far older sword; yes, bringing a sword to upscale venues was perhaps a little uncouth, but he didn't want to look a target- especially since he would likely be escorting a Lady home.

He was meeting Eddie at the bar first and only intended to have a drink or two at most so as to be sober for the performance. Honestly, Aimery was glad to have an excuse to leave should Eddie prove as annoying as he had been lately- he knew they'd once been close, close friends, and Eddie did have his high points, but, well. At times it was hard to see what he must've seen in him once.

Anna, on the other hand, was charming and lovely. She reminded him of Gundred grown up they way he'd like her to, not still messy and childish. She was a delight, hence his invitation to the ballet. Aimery had never seen one before and Anna seemed the sort to appreciate it. He intended to meet her at the theater as well, though he was very slightly late due to getting a little turned around on his way.

Threaded | Flat

Eddie's current employment doesn't leave him wanting for basic necessities. He has a little left over after the budgeting is done. It doesn't leave much for the sorts of nice things he'd be able to get his hands on if he weren't keeping his hands to himself. The green suit he came here with is the best he'd be able to buy, back home. He knows if he wears it too much, it's not going to look as sharp. He's putting his spare money into clothes, but they're not as nice, and despite his best efforts, his best suit is not presentable, this evening. His life is so difficult.

Dressed in black, he arrives, right on time, and scans the patrons for his friend. He'd sent him a message, earlier, and isn't so much concerned about Aimery being late as not showing up, considering he could have chosen any of a good number of prior evenings to spend time with him. That doesn't put him on as much of an edge as not being in a better suit, but still... it's good this is a nice place, and that it should be a pleasant evening.

It's a gorgeous performance. Indeed, as they leave the theater she realizes that she has possibly been a terrible companion -- something in the blood her sire gave her makes the performance of such a cherished art form call to her (like some endlessly reenacted nostalgia, maybe? she doesn't over-wonder at it, only delights in the enthrallment, at being powerless before such perfect beauty). Her only regret, once the curtain closes, is that perhaps the sheer excess of her enrapture may have made her look foolish before one of the few sophisticated gentlemen she's yet met in this city.

Truly, it has been a relief to find Aimery here in Baedal: with every law she once lived by shaken and turned on its head by the absence of the Masquerade, Aimery's gentle, elegant formality feels like a return to civilization.

She turns to him, covering her embarrassment at her behavior in the theatre with self-deprecation. "I don't suppose I need to convince you that I enjoyed the performance."

no subject

/arises from the depths of backtagging: Post-Ballet