As soon as Laszlo arrives, Armani is very keen to show him his present even if it goes against birthday party etiquette to give gifts before the cake is even cut. But he can't help it! He's too excited!!
Dionaea Medusae is larger, more robust, and far livelier than the typical venus flytrap. This particular specimen is impressive for its kind, with fifty heads that begin to writhe like snakes the moment Armani opens up the tin of live mealworms. They know it's dinner time.
"Aren't they just the cutest?" he gushes, pinching a worm from the tin and heartlessly tossing it toward the plant like one would toss a treat to a dog. Partly because it's a neat trick, partly because nobody wants their fingers bitten.
The heads stretch and snap at it mid-air, eager for their meal. One bites one end, another the other, and in a fraction of a second it's torn to shreds and devoured. Armani looks to Laszlo, starry-eyed, and offers out the tin. "I brought hand sanitizer." Because he knew he'd be touchin' a lot of bugs today.
Edited (i forgot to link the cake in the description and i'm too lazy to add sentences so i gotta forcibly squeeze it in somewhere) 2019-10-21 04:33 (UTC)
Probably Tybalt doesn't actually need the boost of confidence the potion he downed just seconds ago. He's hardly a wilting daisy. But there seems to be an extra-annoying lilt to his stride right now. He's inspired to do...something. Maybe if he was on a broom, it would be a different story. Or a building. He could crush climbing a fire escape or a tree right now. He is, unfortunately, safely tucked into a hedge maze, where the most daring and challenging possible feat is battling some scratches.
So it's possibly destiny when he notes Laszlo, guest of honor, sitting next to a big carnivorous plant. His face lights up a little, and he makes a beeline over. He holds his hand dangerously close to the plant's jaws. "Happy birthday again," is a thought spared to his roommate, but fast on its heels, "Does this one eat people?"
Twas curiosity that brought Winter here, rather than strictly the invitation. She hovers on the edge of things, as she often does, projecting more confidence than she actually possesses. Cool instead of terrified. Her head swims a little trying to figure out where the gifts go, but the panic ebbs when she spots a small pile. Sneak in, drop it off, and then ensure her face is stuffed with snacks so she doesn't have to make small talk.
That plan is ruined pretty much instantly when her tunnel visioned trek toward the gifts brings her nearly crashing into the birthday boy himself. "Shit," she says, an excellent and charming conversation starter delivered with a bright and beaming smile. "Hello. My bad. And also, while I'm at it, happy birthday?"
Operation mingle at a party like a normal human and not seem like such a complete changeling is certainly ... operating. Winter's gotten herself a small plate of finger foods and she chain munches on grapes and pieces of cauliflower, chimpmunkish as she scans the crowd for a safe spot to slot herself.
And soon she thinks she may have found it. Easily confident Tybalt Zettler. Tibblet Zibblet. (Brain, stop. There is no need.) It's actually surprising to see his attention unmonopolized by anyone else at the moment. She approaches casually, tilting her head to the side once she's beside him. "Alright, boss, I've cased the joint," she starts in a low and conspiratorial whisper, then points at several different party guests with a pristine baby carrot. "And I'm r-reasonably positive that guy, her, him and mmmaybe him are the only ones you couldn't easily hustle at chess."
If Tibblet is surprised by actual fae child Winter Carmichael lighting at his elbow, he doesn't show it. There's a raise of his eyebrow, certainly, but it's just so that he can be certain he catches every word. Because this sounds like the beginnings of a worthy scheme. Who is he to deny that. He follows the baby carrot's path with his eyes, scoffing imperceptibly at the last one. He doesn't know that guy at all, but he doesn't look like a threat. He puts his untouched quarter-glass of Franzia just near his lips, to make this a private conversation. "Higher odds on them just means we'll make more when I win, anyway. I can take 'em."
A pleased and scheming smile spreads across Winter's lips. She crosses one arm over her torso, catching the elbow of the other as she crunches the carrot. It should give her a bit more time to think of how to proceed, but Winter doesn't have the manners to wait before she's finished chewing to go on. "High risk, high reward," she says into the heel of her hand, brows tipping up. "And you get more glory in the end. If we can turn this dinner into a chess tournament, we'll be kings by the end of the night." She has no intention, but it's fun to pretend.
Tybalt leans against the wall behind him, feigning cooler than he has any right to. The effect is not, unfortunately, as Bond Casino Heist as he's setting up in his imagination. He nods, slowly considering much longer than he should." It'd be good. One more small time gig. Rob them blind before we hit the big leagues."
He doesn't necessarily have any intention on following through, either, but he still lets the corner of his mouth turn up, surveying the scene. Sort of carefully. He points out a problem with the tip of his pinkie, lacking a carrot, "Of course we'll have to turn the Jenga into a chessboard."
Now it's her turn to trace a line through the air with her eyes. They come to rest on the giant Jenga and her own little grin broadens by tiny measures. "Ah, damn." Winter snaps her fingers, clucking and then ducking her head in mock disappointment. "I'm just not much of a whittler." She only stumbles over those words a bit. "How're your Transfigurations? Hate to call the whole thing off."
A dangerous question, as he seems to always be laying in wait for someone to ask him about the only subject he legitimately does really well in. He may as well be chirping when he answers maybe too quickly, "Oh, don't worry, I'm a prodigy." He takes his wand out and into his sleeve. He probably shouldn't ruin Laszlo's party just yet, but he's got to keep the illusion up. He pretends to pull it back, to reconsider. "Or should we collect bets first."
An impressive snort of laughter rushes out of her, caught and stifled in the palm of her hand. She grins behind her fingers, plainly delighted with Tybalt's bravado. Something about the effortless surety of 'don't worry, I'm a prodigy' hits in just the right way. Letting him go off with his wand is tempting, and though Winter has a soft spot for mayhem, she also, generally, tries to keep the chaos of the victimless kind. This is Laszlo's party, after all, and it seems like Armani had worked very hard on it. "Bets first," she replies, dropping her hand from her face once her smile's back under control. "Maybe someone just happens to have a chess set on hand."
It might not seem very notable that Tybalt doesn't argue this stance, and gamely tucks his wand back into his pocket. But it is, because if Tybalt really wanted to ruin the party, he would've done so by now. Luckily, he's been lulled into self-satisfaction by the laughter, and it's an agreeable state.
He leans a little conspiratorially closer, wishing he had sunglasses very much to stare across the scene. "What's a good bet worth these days? I've heard your ear's close to the ground."
Still, Winter replies as though she is a seasoned bookie, come from a long and prestigious line of successful turf accountants. She is absolutely not, and perhaps it shows. "Oh, confidence runs high among chess-players, so the bets are equally big. Dozen dragots, easy." She glances sidelong at Tybalt with a cat-like smile. "What would you w-w-wager on yourself, hm?"
Tybalt has never bet one thing in his life, and wouldn't know if a bookie was robbing him blind or not. He nods, serious, even as the corner of his mouth ticks up. If he was also a cat, he'd probably be purring in some mischievous contentment. Not entirely uncommon for him, but it's nice.
"If I was betting, oh twenty, easy, per game. But no one else should bet that. Or we'd have to pay them?"
It's a question because, again,he's never bet one thing in his life.
The smaller, furrier guests are not to be neglected either! Armani plays host to the familiars in attendance, laying out a blanket for them and using tea cup saucers as plates to serve them mealworms. They deserve the best.
Princess Cordelia looks stunning tonight in her little white lace shawl and tiny flowers in her hair. She's helping to co-host and sits perched on a pillow to welcome the other familiars to dine with her on her blanket kingdom. A long, thin tongue extends several feet to grab a single mealworm before retracting so she can daintily chew on it. Now that the princess has eaten, everyone else may eat.
"Oh, this is adorable," Ramona says as she happens upon the familiar tea party. Free Cat doesn't participate in this kind of pageantry and absolutely wouldn't let Ramona dress her up, but she can appreciate a good look on a pygmy puff as much as the next person. And of course she knows when she's in the presence of royalty.
"Your highness," she says with an awkward pantomimed curtsy before she sits down. She has a little plate of food for herself that she balances on one knee and is not put off by the mealworm meal in front of her at all. "Hi, Armani," she adds belatedly (with none of the same deference in her voice as she used to address his pet).
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peckenpaugh2019-10-20 09:54 pm
HEART OF THE MAZE
Armani, Laszlo, and one hungry ?boy(s)!!!
Dionaea Medusae is larger, more robust, and far livelier than the typical venus flytrap. This particular specimen is impressive for its kind, with fifty heads that begin to writhe like snakes the moment Armani opens up the tin of live mealworms. They know it's dinner time.
"Aren't they just the cutest?" he gushes, pinching a worm from the tin and heartlessly tossing it toward the plant like one would toss a treat to a dog. Partly because it's a neat trick, partly because nobody wants their fingers bitten.
The heads stretch and snap at it mid-air, eager for their meal. One bites one end, another the other, and in a fraction of a second it's torn to shreds and devoured. Armani looks to Laszlo, starry-eyed, and offers out the tin. "I brought hand sanitizer." Because he knew he'd be touchin' a lot of bugs today.
Tybalt harasses a birthday boy
So it's possibly destiny when he notes Laszlo, guest of honor, sitting next to a big carnivorous plant. His face lights up a little, and he makes a beeline over. He holds his hand dangerously close to the plant's jaws. "Happy birthday again," is a thought spared to his roommate, but fast on its heels, "Does this one eat people?"
Laszlo & Winter
That plan is ruined pretty much instantly when her tunnel visioned trek toward the gifts brings her nearly crashing into the birthday boy himself. "Shit," she says, an excellent and charming conversation starter delivered with a bright and beaming smile. "Hello. My bad. And also, while I'm at it, happy birthday?"
Tybalt & Winter
And soon she thinks she may have found it. Easily confident Tybalt Zettler. Tibblet Zibblet. (Brain, stop. There is no need.) It's actually surprising to see his attention unmonopolized by anyone else at the moment. She approaches casually, tilting her head to the side once she's beside him. "Alright, boss, I've cased the joint," she starts in a low and conspiratorial whisper, then points at several different party guests with a pristine baby carrot. "And I'm r-reasonably positive that guy, her, him and mmmaybe him are the only ones you couldn't easily hustle at chess."
Tybalt & Winter
Tybalt & Winter
Tybalt & Winter
He doesn't necessarily have any intention on following through, either, but he still lets the corner of his mouth turn up, surveying the scene. Sort of carefully. He points out a problem with the tip of his pinkie, lacking a carrot, "Of course we'll have to turn the Jenga into a chessboard."
Tybalt & Winter
Tybalt & Winter
Tybalt & Winter
Tybalt & Winter
He leans a little conspiratorially closer, wishing he had sunglasses very much to stare across the scene. "What's a good bet worth these days? I've heard your ear's close to the ground."
He hasn't.
Tybalt & Winter
Tybalt & Winter
"If I was betting, oh twenty, easy, per game. But no one else should bet that. Or we'd have to pay them?"
It's a question because, again,he's never bet one thing in his life.
Creature Corral (Open++)
Princess Cordelia looks stunning tonight in her little white lace shawl and tiny flowers in her hair. She's helping to co-host and sits perched on a pillow to welcome the other familiars to dine with her on her blanket kingdom. A long, thin tongue extends several feet to grab a single mealworm before retracting so she can daintily chew on it. Now that the princess has eaten, everyone else may eat.
Ramona & Armani & Furry Friends
"Your highness," she says with an awkward pantomimed curtsy before she sits down. She has a little plate of food for herself that she balances on one knee and is not put off by the mealworm meal in front of her at all. "Hi, Armani," she adds belatedly (with none of the same deference in her voice as she used to address his pet).