Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-24080120-20140120043512/@comment-11588669-20140202013110

The glass was brought to his lips, the harsh liquid flowing past as he sipped it. It burned as it coursed down his throat, and he returned the now empty cup to the bar alongside five others. Six glasses of assorted alcohol, and the male was moderately buzzed. That was it.

A smirk crossed his lips, leaving six gleaming ivory fangs exposed. Midnight eyes were watching everything with amusement, from Lucasta's rather conspicuous entrance to Sven's acrobatic break in, to Indigo's calm, under the radar walk in. Here, where chaos reigned, problems were forgotten, and new ones made, he was. At a party of all things.

If the old man could see me now, he mused. He'd laugh his ass off, then berate me for wasting time.

Normally, he never went to parties just for the fun of it. It was always a job, guarding someone, or eliminating another. One way or another, he was almost always working. So, when the invitation for this one came out, he decided to go. Beacon was frustrating: academics was never his thing, and only through the help of his friend could he be where he is now. And he well and truly hated it.

Noctum Caeruleus, otherwise known as Winter, or Nox to his friends, was never one to let others do things for him.

A chuckle escaped the mercenary at the thought, and he nodded to the bartender, noting the blonde hair and scars. Blood Raserei. What a fool, thinking people wouldn't recognize him here. He was lucky Nox wasn't on a contract, otherwise the mercenary would have gladly killed him and taken the bounty.

Come to think of it, the drinks were probably dosed with more alcohol then what was required. Nox shook his head, and stood from the bar. He stretched, reveling in the pops he recieved from the action. Once done, the teenage mercenary stripped off his black shirt, and rolled his shoulders, now clad in just a pair of black and green board shorts. Some people stared. And he didn't blame them.

Noctum was nothing but corded muscle on a runners build. In short: He was built. Almost no body fat, and it showed when he set his shirt to the side. But that wasn't all. Scars covered his frame, from crossing slashes to bullet wounds to stab marks. Near black-blue tattoos covered his upper torso, stretching from his collarbone down to his lower chest and arms, crossing over his shoulders and down his back to end midway down. The coloration of the tattoos matched his short hair, which was styled messily on purpose.

He turned to the pool, and stopped. Brown hair, pulled into a pony tail, striking blue eyes, and very fine features. Kasumi Gallota. What was his friend doing here, of all places? The teen began to move towards her, muscles rolling with every step. There was a confidence in his motions, a certainty to his step. The walk of a predator, the motions of one who was confident in his ability to deal with problems. And the footfalls were nearly silent.

He reached his target, and tapped her on the shoulder, that same smirk still on his features. Indigo was still dealing with Halvard, a gladiatorial champion. So, he could talk to her alone.

Good, it had been to long.

"Well, Kas. Never expected you to attend something like this." The grin broadened. "After all, as one of such high renown, isn't it beneath you to be mingling amongst the commen folk?" His voice took on a tone of false superiority. "Been a bit too long, don't you think?"