Tobias turned when he heard his name. "L'aire! Good to see you. I'm doing well, how are you?" He grinned and offered the dancer his hand. "How are you settling in?"
When the other lost joined them, Tobias offered his hand as well. "Tobias Thorne, of Spring. Nice to meet you Terra,"
Jordan nods and says respectfully to the bartender. "Thank you sir!" He holds his hand out respectively. "My name is Jordan I used to be apart of this community along time ago and I just got back into town. Just trying to get back into the jist of things. How are you and what is your name?"
There was something that seemed to call to the Fairest Dancer when she was around the Manikin. The music he gently emitted made her being want to move with it. Yet standing on the balls of her feet in her normal appearance didn’t seem to reveal this need to do so. As she took Tobias Thorne ’s hand, a half smile moved over her lips. “Oh I’m doing alright. Slowly settling in it seems...” L’aire said admittedly. She wanted to add a little more until the Mirrorskin approached.
With a quick twirl and a chilled breeze she turned to open the conversation. "I’m L’aire, of the Onyx Court.” The Fairest Dancer’s graceful hands opened toward the other Fairest. “It’s good to meet you Terra.” Her demeanor friendly, but still thought there was something odd to the Mirrorskins words.
L’aire couldn’t help but miss the white white girl that she ran into with Degnar, Jezebel, Irea and Dominyk one afternoon. The same afternoon where she’d last seen Dorian. She also saw Rook and if he were to look she gave him a quick wave along with Perry diCarto . There was a flurry of the heat of summer as Anya Wyrmblood and Spartan also entered. The Winter Fairest thought about waiving to Danny Tongs but didn't want him to get all awkward again. And then the opalescent Dragonic entered and her violet eyes saw Lou 's ember spheres. All taken in as brief scan of the crowd of the Freehold entering for the Feast.
Serreth entered, in the same suit he had worn to the coronation and the end of spring gathering. He noticed Rook across the room, similarly dressed. He looked at his own attire and smiled. Maybe it's an elemental thing, he mused.
He did hope that there contests of mental capacity as well as physical strength. Serreth had always felt that brawn was useless if you hand't the brains to use it. Subsequently he was quite hoping there would be a game of chess or draughts. Although he would be quite happy to settle for a few riddles or puzzles.
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Tally wanders into the Hollow wearing a black long sleeve sweater with hood that has its zipper open to reveal a shirt sporting an image of an arctic fox with its full white winter coat upon a gray and white shirt. A pair of matching black sweat pants to go along with the sweater. She had just come back from a jog and is more thirsty then famished.
As she heads straight to the buffet, she notices familiar faces like Tobias, Spartan, Rook, and Perry to name a few. As she pours herself something to drink, she quickly gulps a few mouthfuls right away before refilling it and this time, slowly sipping it. She sighs in contentment before heading for the buffet to fill up a plate of light food.
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Entering the Throne Room with graceful steps, Terri uncharacteristically ignored looking to anyone, and was not smiling. Wearing her favourite orange hoody, a pair of black gym pants, and her white Nike, the Harvest Envoy moved across the room with determined steps and approached none other than Spartan , stopping just outside of his personal space.
"King Spartan, may I have a word, please?"
Her red and black striped hair was tied back in a ponytail, and to the Summer King, it looked like she had been crying.
Spartan's head immediately turned as he watched Terri walk over directly to him. Spartan is no the most empathetic of guys, but he knows Terri well enough to know when something is wrong. And he has seen enough women crying to know what the red puffy eyes and dry nose means.
The Hoplite was standing before Terri even made it to him, "Of course Terri, let us go sit somwhere private."
Spartan leads Terri to the private conference room that the sovereigns use. Spartan pulled a chair out for Terri if she wants it. "Terri, what is the matter?" Spartan asked.
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Clare entered the hollow commons wearing athletic shorts and a tank top, a bounce in her step from excitement. She gave a quick look around, noticing that girl standing with a few people she hadn't met yet, Rook and Perry over by the Bar, Anya talking to Danny, Tobias talking to a pretty girl Clare had seen around in glimpses but hadn't met, Spartan and Terri heading off to talk, and.... no Dominyk. Huh. It's weird not seeing Rook and Anya side-by-side.
Clare gives a mental shrug, then tries to figure out who to talk to. After a few more seconds hesitating around the Door, Clare decided that she could be social later, and drifted towards the banquet table to grab a light snack.
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Knowing full and well that a celebration thrown by the Crimson Court would mean near-oppressive heat, Warren Locke wears a button-down shirt stretched across his impossibly broad shoulders anyway. It seemed proper to show some semi-formal respect to the reigning King. He has no clue yet to the particulars and the customs specific to the Freehold of Sacramento, and would rather not look like a slob. Any jacket, or leather that he has for such a thing would be damn near unbearable, however. That is right out. At least his sleeves are rolled partway up.
Plain slacks and equally plain shoes round out the attire. It is Locke's bearing that makes him altogether impressive. Cheap clothes and a faint mantle adorning the form of a stone fortress would make it no less imposing. And the Witchtooth's face is set just as hard as ever. The expression is a default, however. Nothing is displeasing him at the moment.
Glancing around, the only members of the Freehold he yet knows are not there, or already in conversation with someone. Save for the large Dragon, Lou . Locke gives him a very slight dip of the brow that is... probably a nod... but not much of one. Locke is still working on the idea of emoting feelings that do not revolve around terror and hatred. The last few decades spent free of Din have held many new concepts for him, and he is very, very set in his ways.
Any time he sees people talking to each other freely and easily, though, Locke has the desire to call Zephyr. He could never really let the words flow like she can, but there is a comfort there that is the only sort that Locke knows. As his thoughts turn to the Elemental he calls friend, the Ogre realizes that the random creature he encountered days ago calling herself Ion is nowhere to be seen.
But during the scan for blue hair, he spots violet eyes, instead. If L'aire happens to look his way, he will actually try a smile with the nod. Both are weak; muted. But they are a start. He does not interrupt her conversation, however, choosing instead to idly examine the banquet. It also gives him a chance to observe the others as they cross to and fro, as the space doesn't really allow for him to get a look at everyone at once without being too obvious about it.
That is the odd thing about both very large spaces, and very small ones. It can be difficult to conceal your actions without the right number of obstructions. Er... that is, people.
Stick with what you know.
Small talk? No. Food and fighting? Oh yes.
What Locke's Mask might look like outside the Hedge, if a little older than this :D
"Argh!" Danny yelped, following the traditional greeting that a lot of people gave Anya - abject terror followed by a helpless urge to follow the scales on her neck, followed by a mental image of what those bronze talons would do if he was caught even slightly looking, followed by abject terror.
"Uh, uh, h-h-hello, Anya! Um. That's a nice... tank top. Very military. Um, hi," the Wizened cringed inwardly, wishing that just once, just once, he could talk to a beautiful woman of any type without immediately swallowing his tongue.
He just couldn't stop imagining her.
It was always worse when the woman in question gave off a natural amount of terror. Anya put the 'fatal' in femme fatale, he'd seen it, and Katrin...
Katrin made him feel like ice was crawling through his veins every time.
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