i reach out to touch you:

[capemods]

WHO: ImPorts in Venezuela
WHERE: Mérida, Venezuela
WHEN: October 19th 10AM to October 20th 10AM.
WARNINGS: Strong language is likely. Potential violence.
SUMMARY: Welcome to the twenty-four hour masquerade! Refreshments will be flowing throughout the hours, and while entertainment is provided (both musical and theatrical), don't let that deter you from inventing your own mischief. Remember, there's only one rule: while at the masquerade, you cannot remove your mask!

As the levity hits its high notes, however, beware the dark figures scheming in the shadows, those poisoners with swift hands. By 12AM October 20th, the imPort-only virus will be exposed and infecting the masqueraders first, before spreading outwards.
FORMAT: Whatever you'd like.


Masks of all counterfeits paid tribute to the color spectrum that soon poured out into the confetti-strewn streets that morning. The flood of spectacle drowned away any groans of the mundane, and once ten o'clock stuck then did intrigue ascend to the hazy plateau of status quo. Bodies moved like whispers against each other, some seeking friends, while others hoped to fool foes. The air sung with sticky excitement: mischief was welcomed here, as long as you did it honestly. As long as you wore your face over your mask.

Comments

[ioudas]

(Cross can't resist, he smirks against her lips before mumbling really slowly:) I've never kissed a woman whose face I haven't had to tilt up. You're pretty amazing.

(he kisses her again, though not as chaste as before and even a little goading to press him against her so that he has good reason to take her off the dance floor and continue this elsewhere.)

[glassbox]

[ it leaves her a little breathless, the way he kisses her this time, and without really thinking about it, she's letting her hands close tight in his clothes, wrinkling the fabric in her grip, keeping him close to her. god, it's been so long since she's felt close to another human being.

lowly, just between the two of them: ]

There y'go, sweet-talkin' me again.

[ioudas]

(he just rests his head on hers as an open invitation that if she wanted anything else, he would gladly offer himself to her.)

Then you're just going to have to get used to it.

[glassbox]

[ her grip on him tightens a moment, her body pressed close to his like she thinks if she can get close enough, it'll protect her from ever feeling lonely again. but it's just another moment -- just that, before she's pulling back enough to look at him properly, something rueful in her face. ]

I can't. I can't get used t'any of this.

[ioudas]

Then I'll have to make you get used to it. (he kisses her hand before he bows in front of her again.)

Want a drink?