Diran Parisyan
Junior Member
Ranger
"We are presumed guilty, even when proven innocent."
Posts: 54
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Post by Diran Parisyan on Apr 1, 2010 1:09:29 GMT -5
The Armenian laughed softly, enjoying the Russian's kindness. Maybe they could be friends; Diran would rather like that. Then the red-haired woman stepped onto the stage and state her ransom. He sobered up enough to be filled with rage at the woman. Who did she think she was, throwing this wonderful party and then spoiling everyone's mood? And for that matter, could he go anywhere without these sort of things happening?
Thoroughly put out by the announcement, he began brooding. "She's not getting away with it," he informed Ivan quietly. "There are more of us than her and her guards. And even though quite a lot of these people are just poshed up no-workers, we could definitely take them. There's got to be someone here who knows some magic, at least more than I do; I'm not particularly good. What do you think?"
Diran's eyes darted from door to door, taking in the sight of the red webs. It sparked his temper and he had to clench his fists so as not to hit anyone. "Hey! Shut up!" He called to the panicking masses. "Running about like a bunch of headless chickens is not going to help the situation, if you would care to consider that!"
Then he turned and pointed his finger at Veata. "And I wouldn't touch that if I were you!"
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Apr 2, 2010 6:12:37 GMT -5
François paused at the announcement, glancing back at where the woman had disappeared. How interesting, the turn of events. She wondered how it was possible to find someone like her, after all, she wasn't herself at this party. Help? Now, that was an interesting word to use and she played with the multiple interpretations such a word could imply. Well, regardless, they were here and in whatever state they might or might not leave the place by the end of the night, the French... woman was sure it would at least be interesting.
Chuckling at the rowdy crowd, she side-stepped one particularly antsy person as the others were beginning to panic, the angry jeering and cries rising above a volume appropriate for her sensitive ears. It was problematic, surely, however... she was quite curious as to how this situation might play out.
Well, so long as they were trapped, she might as well have fun. There was no point to over reacting like everyone seemed to be doing or trying to cause an uprising or riot. That was just silly. Instead, she settled for easily maneuvering through the crowds, light on her feet and passing by the people with a fluid easiness. There was no point in beginning to panic about this, it would only add to the mayhem that was already overturning the sense of dignity and self-respect others in the room had. It was funny to see everyone making such a big mess of it all.
Leaning against a wall, François observed from a distance, picking out a few people she recognized. Listening to the angry yelling from everyone. Some were trying to gain order, which seemed a lot more logical than the panicked running almost everyone else had fallen into. Not to mention the way they were trying to break everything in their path to find an escape route. A sigh escaped her, "People nowadays..." she murmured and then her eyes focused on one particularly interesting group off in a corner, a girl nearby the door. The doors garbed in red webs.
Enough knowledge in her mind, François played with the idea of helping the people escape. The webs were likely laced with something made of magic, had a cursed placed on them that caused comatose or certain death, who knew? Was it worth it to find out? She knew magic, how to fight, it was within her nature, however... it was much more fun to watch the mob forming. Although some women were beginning to cry, others made demands, trying to bribe their way out. That part was annoying, but there was nothing she could do nor did she want to bother with it.
"Well, at least it's a lovely night," she sighs, glancing out a window at the moon in the darkened skies, something that earned a few glances proclaiming she was crazy. She only smiled in return.
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Seraphine Grimaldi
New Member
Necromantic Magician [Human]
"We often look back at the closed door, we forget to look at the opened one..."
Posts: 40
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Post by Seraphine Grimaldi on Apr 3, 2010 6:37:56 GMT -5
After her friend left her, Seraphine turned her attention back to the party. Now that she was all alone, she had no choice but mingle with the other guests. Well, she was very sociable and she knew she could make a friend or two. Looking at the crowd who was still enjoying the party, she looked at a few people. A tall Russian caught her attention. Also a beautiful woman who was clad in blue. Though, there was something different about her that Seraphine couldn't quite make.
The music was still on-going even though she had been on the veranda for quite sometime. She made her way around the crowd and made small talk with some people. Some she seemed to recognize and others she found fascinating to speak with. The music started to slow down. Seraphine turned her head to view the area where the musicians were, grabbing a nice glass of wine and taking a sip. On the final note, a woman clad in red stepped out on the stage and started to speak. Seraphine didn't pay attention to the woman. Though, when she started to talk about leaving and such, Seraphine suddenly felt the urge to pay attention. Suddenly, the talk of ransoms and such was brought up.
SNAP!
This now pissed her off. Ransom?! What rich woman would still want money? That was all that ran in her head. Little did she noticed that red webs and the doors were locked. Seraphine clenched her hands until the the glass broke leaving a wound. Though she didn't mind the pain and the blood that was now dripping down her fingers. The people inside started to panic. Though, there were some notable figures who didn't. She tried to avoid the crowd which was now running around like mice being trapped in by a cat. She observed the whole room from a single point of view. She couldn't move that much though from the gown she was wearing. If only she had worn something more movable. Was this the feeling she was getting earlier from the veranda.
She had heard a familiar voice yell out to the mass to stop panicking. It was that fellow who had asked a dance earlier this evening. "D-Diran?" she thought trying to recognize the voice behind the mask. She turned her attention to the young woman who Diran stopped. Yes. There was something wrong with the red strings. He must've have sensed it too. Seraphine went to a corner to survey the room from a point of view. There must have been some kind of flaw. Somewhere where they could break it.
She suddenly had this urge inside her. Like a sudden rush came inside of her. She enjoyed this feeling and she knew there was something that was going to happen. She knew a little magic and she knew how to fight. Something enjoyable might happen to her. Now that she was pissed, she wouldn't hold back now. Still, her emerald eyes scanned the room looking for the slightest flaw there could have been. ~!~!~!~
Still sneaking in!
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Post by Ivan Braginsky on Apr 5, 2010 14:34:12 GMT -5
The Russian seemed to be right at home in the midst of the chaotic and frightened crowds around him, which meant he was either blissfully unaware that being 'kidnapped' and unable to leave a place was a bad thing, or he just didn't care. Either way, he seemed not to mind the predicament that he and every other party-goer-turned-kidnappee were in. He almost seemed as if he had gotten happier since the mayhem had begun, but that might just have been because of his recent acquisition of company.
Ivan toyed with the ends of his scarf looking thoughtful for a long moment as he pondered over Diran's words. Violet eyes scanned over the crowd in front of them, watching as people tried to escape. Why were they all so frantic? No one was harming them as of yet-- they should be enjoying themselves, shouldn’t they? It could always be worse--and his chest ached slightly at the memory of what worse entailed-- but they were treating it as if they were being set aflame. Even if she did start hurting them, Diran was right--he'd seen less of her and hers than he'd seen people in the crowd.
"What do I think?" he repeated the question, in that same childish tone he had used before. "Ah, I think that someone here should be good at magic, because there are so many people, but… do you really want to leave so early?" The hand toying with the edge of his scarf fall back to his side and he smiled, looking down at the smaller male once again.
"This is a party, is meant to be enjoyed, da?" he asked, but the Armenian male was already yelling at the people scrambling to the exits, trying but not really succeeding in calming them down. He was very much right in his assessment of the crowd, however; they really were running about like headless chickens, and Ivan wasn't quite sure whether it was in the good way or in the bad way.
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Post by Anica Popescu on Apr 5, 2010 22:36:24 GMT -5
"Screw you!" Anica yelled over the crowd though not really caring if the man who had called for silence heard her or not. Although he did have a point... yelling and panicking wasn't going to help anyone, let alone herself. So, with a rather epic if she did say so herself gulp of champagne, the alcohol burning her throat on the way down, she slammed the glass back down and shouldered her way through the crowd. He ears beginning to ring from all all the sounds and voices that seemed to vibrate and bounce off the walls, only to attack her ear drums.
Anica finally ebbed her way towards the magically sealed doors, blinking in confusion and a very slight interest at the strands of blood colored magic.
"So... what do you make of it?" The Romanian asked Veata, who was just in the middle of reaching out to touch the webs. Surely this girl knew about magic, right? What kind of idiot would just touch something obviously magical with no knowledge of the craft? The raven haired youth clicked her tongue as she leaned in closer to the webs, eye brow quirking when she heard Diran's warning, "Why shouldn't she? What's the worse that could happen?" She called out. Well... the worse was that it melted the skin on her finger off but... Anica shuddered at the thought, that was definately going on her List-of-things-I-am-not-aloud-to-think-of list.
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Post by Veata Chea on Apr 6, 2010 9:30:10 GMT -5
The biting words cutting through the air took the Khmer by surprise, causing her to jump up a little and withdraw her hand from the red web of magic. The yell had been truly unexpected because really, who would have been paying to one young female when there was a ballroom full of idiots to watch after? Besides, Veata had actually gone about her business quietly so there was really no reason for anybody to go yelling at her.
A slightly curious tilt came to her head as dark brown eyes instinctively sought out the owner of the masculine voice. Among all these people it could have been any of the males but there was one in particular that caught her attention. Olive skin and raven black hair with a slightly glazed look to his dark brown eyes. Not much taller than the female either and perhaps the only one that didn’t seem to be panicking. He was giving her a sort of reprimanding glare that made Veata feel like a small child again caught with her hand in the cookie jar…like that ever stopped her from taking the cookie anyways though…especially if it was a drunken man trying to stop her…
Turning lightly on her heel, Veata took in the webs of magic once more. There was something actually familiar about the way that they intertwined…she may be a Gambler but that didn’t mean that she had never touched up on any magical subjects before. In fact…this web of magic was horribly familiar and sent a sharp shudder down her spine. It was the very same type of magic that had trapped her family into the refugee camp years ago. How was it that she could leave her homeland behind with all those memories yet find something around every corner that forced the memories up in a rush?
Dark brown eyes flitted over, shaken from her stupor, as a female approached her with a question on the tip of her tongue. This one looked slightly drunk but not nearly so much as the male over there. “Actually…that man, drunk as he looks, seems to be right at the very least.” Veata’s gaze drifted back to the red web, her hand drifting up to trace one of the red strings without touching it. “They used something like this in the refugee camp. Touch it and set your body aflame from the inside out…Hard to break but not completely impossible if you can find the right person to do the job.”
One last aggravated look was thrown at the web of magic before Veata turned away and started off towards the slightly drunken male. A Gambler she may be, the levels of magic she knew were limited but maybe this male, who must have known at least something about this web to have known to stop her, would know a little more. The spell they needed would be…complicated. “Ah!” Quickened steps paused as Veata called out to the female that had been next to her moments ago. “Why don’t you come with me to go talk to that man over there? He might know something about what’s going on.”
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Diran Parisyan
Junior Member
Ranger
"We are presumed guilty, even when proven innocent."
Posts: 54
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Post by Diran Parisyan on Apr 6, 2010 14:59:50 GMT -5
Diran was slightly taken aback when he heard someone shouting "screw you!" across the ballroom. It was a waitress girl, and he pouted a bit at her words, muttering to himself. She probably didn't know a thing about magic, so who was she to talk back to him in such a manner? After all, he was just trying to keep everyone from getting themselves killed.
"Sometimes it just isn't worth it to be helpful..." he mumbled. "Bunch of idiots."
The Armenian sighed and turned around to look at Ivan again. Apparently this was a motion too complicated for his legs to handle, and he stumbled so that he had to keep a hold on the Russian's arm in order to right himself. He sent a sheepish smile up to his new friend.
"Ahh, I suppose you are right, we should be enjoying ourselves. It's just a bit frustrating that this sort of thing always happens to me; if trouble was lightning, I'd be the man standing on a hill during a lightning storm in copper armor shouting 'all gods are bastards!'" Diran sighed.
"Do you mind if I had a sip?" He gestured to Ivan's vodka. "We might as well have a little fun watching everyone panic. They don't seem to be stopping soon. Tell me about yourself, yes? Even if it is a long story, it will take just as long for everyone to realize that what they're doing is pointless."
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Apr 6, 2010 18:07:06 GMT -5
"Dammit! How did I miss..." Ignoring the panic that started around the room, Gilbert rushed forward, jumping onto the stage with ease and tossed his mask aside. How had he missed the sudden mass of magic coming from the woman!? There were just two many different mana signatures around the hall and it was driving the silverette mad; as if the smell and constant sound of beating hearts wasn't enough.
"Bocchan!" he hurried forward, stopping at Roderich's side and slipped his hand around the brunette's elbow. If the woman who was holding them posed as much threat as she seemed to be putting front, then leaving the other's side wasn't an option. Protecting his master came first, and that was all he cared about doing. "I'm sorry.... I wasn't paying attention. Dammit, there are too many people here and I can't focus on anything. I should have sensed her before all this happened and... damn." Apologizing was useless, and he knew it, thus it left him with only moving forward. "...It doesn't matter. We need to get out." He grinned and dropped down to one knee, clutching Roderich's hand lightly in his own. "I await your orders, Bocchan..." ----------- A/N: Weird reply is weird.
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Post by Ivan Braginsky on Apr 9, 2010 1:05:19 GMT -5
Ivan smiled and nodded in agreement at Diran's assessment of the crowd. "That is why you let them fumble about on their own. Then you can watch them as they struggle and fall. It's funny to see them bleed, da?" The Russian giggled, having no thought to the oddity of his words, glancing up to the groupings of people not getting anywhere. Though it certainly was not for lack of trying.
His attention however was drawn back to the Armenian as the smaller man stumbled a little, grabbing a firmer hold on his arm. He did his best to hold him up-right despite the fact that Diran's inebriated state probably made that a silly thing to even attempt, let alone try to succeed at. His grip was firm, firmer than was perhaps necessary, but then the Russian didn't always know his strength. Even through his gloves, his hand would be cool to the touch as would be the arm underneath Diran's fingers. The few layers he wore obviously didn't keep him very warm.
Ivan's smile broadened at the Armenian's analogy, and he bobbed his head a little in acknowledgement. "Ah, that does not seem like a very good position to be in," he replied with a chuckle of amusement. "Then again, I am much the same way, though this is quite a better situation than the last time I was trapped in a building, ufufu. At least there is vodka and good company." There wasn't much more that could make the Russian happier.
When the Armenian gestured to the vodka still in Ivan's other hand, asking for a sip, Ivan was surprised but pleased, handing him the bottle without a second thought. "Ah, of course. We are friends now, da? And what would a party be without vodka?" It was a rhetorical question, of course. There was no such thing as a good party without vodka and thus the reason he had decided to bring some. While he had intended it only for himself--most thought his drink of choice too strong, or not fancy enough for such parties--he didn't mind sharing with a new friend.
The question about himself caught him a little off guard, however. His smile faltered for a moment, eyes growing a bit cold from behind his mask. It was not a question he wanted to answer and so he didn't, though his grip on Diran's arm would tighten enough to show his displeasure.
"I would much rather hear about you, da?"
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Apr 9, 2010 22:26:54 GMT -5
"Gilbert..." A wave of relief swept through him as Roderich tore off his mask and used the other man's grip on his hand to pull him roughly to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he scolded crossly, tapping his foot against the stage and glaring, preferring to retreat into what made sense rather than contemplate what else was going on here. "There's too many people around, and I know how you are with crowds."
The mounting tumult in the hall was starting to give him a headache, and he pulled away from the other man to survey the area below the stage, studying the magic first with his eyes, then lifting the violin to his chin. This wasn't his own violin, unfortunately, but rather one the woman who had hired him had been kind enough to provide... hopefully that would prove to be her undoing as he lifted the bow to the strings and started to play. He didn't care if he couldn't be heard, that wasn't his intention; riding the strains of the music, he stretched his magic forward to twine into the brilliant red threads covering the door.
Sweat beading on his forehead, he poured his body into the music, letting it take greater and greater control as he tried to fathom what exactly it was. Every time he thought he had grasped it, it slid away like a living thing. His fingers shook, and with a sudden jolt, he dropped the bow to stop the music, feeling the wood smoldering with a slowly mounting heat that scorched his fingers. Shaking his hand free of the traitorous instrument, Roderich inwardly cursed the loss of his own violin. It was a decent enough instrument for music, but couldn't take the strain of any kind of remotely powerful magic.
Glancing back at Gilbert, he let a small smile cross his face, trying to hide his own fear. "I don't suppose you have any bright ideas?" [/blockquote]
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Post by Ivanka von Kraginskaya on Apr 10, 2010 2:11:06 GMT -5
Let's throw in someone crazy to the mix shall we?
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Ivanka woke up in the back after having a very bad fight with some gang of some sort. Of course, 20 against one was definitely not fair. Or was it because she called their leader a big fat-ass that they got pissed? Whatever the reason, Ivanka just felt her head throbbing and while she walked, she noticed that she wasn't too stable as of yet as she was swaying around. Where was she? Last thing she remembered was fighting those mishaps and then retreated into a building which in fact was not a good idea since they still got her ass kicked. She wondered as she walked out in the long hallways and noticed a small door. It didn't look like a door. Just like a secret passage way. She went through it and thus ending up in a grand room filled with panicking people.
They were all the rich kind and Ivanka's eye just twitched. They were dressed in their best and looked their best. All she was wearing was a dirty black trench coat, a white polo under neath and high boots, the normal attire which would mistake her gander from a 'she to a 'he'. She noticed it was a masquerade and in a masquerade she picked up one of the masks that were on the floor. A white mask that only covered half of her face. She turned to her right to see two men watching the scene from the stage. They weren't panicking and were just talking by themselves as they just watched the exciting scene. She leaned a bit on the stage and also watched the scene.
"Hey you, old man!!" she yelled over to the one with particularly white hair. She didn't know if it was dyed or was he just ancient or whatnot. "You don't know what happened here now don't you?" she asked trying to seek attention from the two men on the stage. Of course, she was Ivanka! She always needed some attention. She watched as the crowd was still in a state of panic.
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Post by Anica Popescu on Apr 10, 2010 3:51:01 GMT -5
There was a disturbingly strong churning in the Romanian's stomach when she heard Veata's explanation of what would happen if one were to touch the webs of magic, it also didn't help that she had alcohol in her system while she was hungry. Anica swallowed thickly before quickly following the other girl; she seemed to have a decent enough idea of what to do in this situation. She had said something about this magic being used in a refugee camp, was she an escapee maybe? Whatever and whoever she was, it would be best to stick by people who weren't panicking.
The man Veata was referring to, Anica recognized as the drunk who had spontaneously swept Anica out onto the dance floor. He was the great source of magical knowledge? (Well, maybe not 'great' but...) even more interesting, if that was the right word, was the large man who seemed to enjoy the discord, his accent clearly Russian, Anica felt a chill shoot through her body just by looking at this man. Like she had stepped outside during winter.... Anica shook her head and addressed Diran:
"So... what's the deal? Got any bright ideas on how to get out of here? I don't know about you, but being kidnapped and held hostage isn't my idea of a good time." The Romanian said smoothly, placing a hand on her hip.
Over the sound of the chaos, she swore she could hear a violin, and old story about a legendary cruise ship temporarily came to mind before she shook those thoughts away. Now really wasn't the time to be remembering some old story.
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Diran Parisyan
Junior Member
Ranger
"We are presumed guilty, even when proven innocent."
Posts: 54
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Post by Diran Parisyan on Apr 10, 2010 18:51:35 GMT -5
Diran, still clutching Ivan's arm, took a sip of the offered vodka. It burned down his throat and he fought the urge to sputter at the strong alcohol. He glanced up at the Russian who seemed so much like a child, and yet so frightening and ancient. His eyebrows furrowed in concern when Ivan directed the conversation away from his past, completely overlooking the Russian's contentment with the panic and possible bloodshed and the increased grip on his arm.
"Ahh, if you insist, friend. I d'not think it is very interesting... I was born to an Armenian woman in a small group of cities in constant warfare. I was a bastard child of a military man, and they didn't like it, so I was something of an outcast." His voice grew bitter. "Once I was old enough to be enlisted I ran away and never looked back. There were so many places to go and so many people to talk to, so I have been traveling the world ever since." Diran's speech had returned to its previous content state.
He slowly turned around to face the girl that was addressing him, catching strains of music over the commotion. Ahh, it was the girl that he had spun in his glee after dancing with that wonderful blonde woman... Diran giggled, clutching his sides until he stumbled and had to grab Ivan's arm again. For some reason beyond his comprehension it was all so funny!
"Oh, -keekeekee- as if! I'm drunk! Not to mention I'm half-useless -keekee- when it comes to magic." He was resting entirely against Ivan now (the other man was cold to the touch), his face flushed from alcohol and mirth and from just being so close to another person.
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Post by Ivan Braginsky on Apr 11, 2010 20:12:36 GMT -5
Diran had seemed to get the hint that Ivan didn't particularly want to talk about his own past, and because of that the Russian seemed to calm down. The grip on Diran's arm slackened, but didn't leave completely as he still felt compelled to hold the small Armenian upright. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let him have Vodka after all--he had seemed rather wobbly before the drink and it could only get worse with the stronger alcohol in his system.
Ivan listened to the smaller male's story with the smile slowly coming back to his lips. The tension fled out of his shoulders and though it still hung around the edges, it was for the most part gone. Thankfully his mood hadn't completely flipped, and so it was fairly easy to get him contented once again. The talk of travel certainly helped, and his eyes brightened up once more.
"You like to travel?" he asked, and seemed genuinely pleased to learn that bit of information. Maybe they could travel together? It would be nice to have a friend to see the world with. He opened his mouth to ask the Armenian about that very concept, when a new person spoke. It was a woman this time, and though she spared a glance towards the Russian, her questions were directed towards Diran, who seemed to find it all rather funny.
Ivan giggled a little himself at the younger male's inability to hold his alcohol. He didn't mind the level of drink that Diran had consumed, and probably wouldn't unless the smaller male passed out. Or dropped his vodka; he would mind that too. When Diran leaned completely against him he released his arm, switching his grip to the Armenian's shoulder instead, enjoying the smaller man's warmth. "Ah, he's a little drunk, da?"
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Post by Anica Popescu on Apr 12, 2010 11:03:36 GMT -5
Already she could feel her eye start to twitch in annoyance. This is what she got for listening to some random girl who seemed to think listening to a drunk was a good idea. And the Russian seemed to actually be enjoying this, or at least acting extremely casual about it.
"A 'little drunk'?" Anica snorted, sending a sneer at the Armenian, "I'd say drunk off his ass myself. Dead weight." She briskly turned on her heel to leave; anyone had to be better then drunky and his creepy Russian friend. "You two have fun. Or whatever." She said to Ivan over her shoulder as she shoved her way through the crowd towards the stage. Maybe that musician and that white-haired man would know how to handle this situation. The sooner Anica could pummel that woman, the better.
Apparently someone else had the same idea as her, addressing the white haired man. The Romanian reached the stage, getting a glance of the white haired man's eyes from behind his mask. They were red. 'An albino? He doesn't look nearly as pasty or bony as I thought an albino would be...' Anica thought to herself, her brow quirked when he saw the white haired man drop to one knee for the musician. Just what was their relationship? This didn't seem to be a place for chivalry...Anica shook her head and whistled to get their attention
"Hey, albino guy! You and your friend there seem to be some of the only people who don't have their heads up their asses. Any bright ideas?" The raven asked. she turned her head to the other... boy? Who was trying to get the attention of the two men. "I'll tell you what happened," she began, "Some bitch decided to invite all these cushioned-life people, aka, the people running screaming and panicking, to this big party. And then she decided to hold everyone here hostage because she wants even more money for God knows what reason." She took a breath and loosened her tie, "You follow?"
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