The Annual Withby Founders Ball

Everyone is cordially invited to the Founders Ball, once again hosted by the McPadraic’s at their sea side estate just outside of Whitby. The ball is set to start just after sun down.

While those of the lower class are also invited, the McPadraic’s will pay a handsome wage to anyone willing to work the event instead.

(This is open to everyone, a semi site plot to kick us off. Please remember to keep up to date with posts as this will be a whole site thread. If you wish to do threads related to this but in a one on one formate I am happy for you to do so. Just send me a link to the thread so I can keep track of them and I am happy to provide move details of the McPadraic estate. Most importantly, have fun!)

Alexandra stood looking over the banister, watching the many towns people make their way through the front door then steered into the ballroom. While balls were great ways to get away with behaviours father wouldn’t approve of, Alex still hated them. So it only seemed fitting that her stepmother would convince Papa to hold it here. No doubt it was the women’s ploy to show of her wealth to those less fortunate.

With a deep sigh, Alex finally came down the polished stairs and into the ballroom herself followed by her chaperone. Her eyes tracked the people around her as the lovely floors and walls soon became hidden. It was going to be a rather long night it seemed. With a quick look behind her, she slipped into the crowed in hopes to lose the woman following her.

The nice thing about crowds was it was easier to lose Darius in them.

Not that he was trying to. He was just... looking for the drinks. On the wrong side of the room. Was that even Darius here? Who knew, keep walking.

He bumped into a fancy-looking woman who was probably also running from Darius. Roderick nodded in understanding, held up a hand in apology, and immediately started hurrying in the same direction as Alexandra. She looked experienced in this kind of thing, after all.

Elijah felt out of place, but when did he not? Still, he didn't get invited to shindigs often, the event at the Meijer's residence certainly not included. This was a nice chance to get to meet some people of the town, especially those of higher standing who avoided the law whenever possible, not that he was working.

He tugged at the new pair of gloves, these were more will than his usual pair. A flashy white and he was certain they were soft to most but they felt strange on his skin and he found himself rubbing his hands even more so than normal. When he wasn't touching his hands, he was trying to busy himself. Maybe something to drink, or stand by the wall and hope no one noticed the odd man out. He was glad at the very least he had managed to borrow a suit from an older residence who was kind to him and had an older outfit he hadn't been able to fit in for some time. It was worn but there was no damage and it's color still held though it was more grey than black now.

The gentleman who's arm she was paid to be on escorted her through the throng of merrymakers with a beaming smile upon his wrinkled, bewhiskered face. He was a man with a shiny, bald head and tufts of hair around the sides and backs that gave him the look of someone who stuck his finger in a light socket. He wore heavy mutton chops on face, and a monocle was in his gloved hand as he held it up to his eye, speaking to his friends with his long, drawn out words that clearly stated he was of the highest class in the area... A Widower named Mister Johnson? Jackson? She didn't care... She was simply dreading what would happen that night when he was ready to sweep her to some shadow and do what he paid for.

She wasn't just paid to be his companion, she was supposed to be a quiet observer, flirting for information because information was currency in the underworld.

Sonia wore a beautiful gown of fine, red silk... Only the most fashionable was to be expected of her, and everything she wore enhanced assets... The neckline was almost too low cut, her waist was cinched tight enough that a man could almost measure it with one hand, her blonde hair was piled up on her head and arranged artfully by her maid with black ribbons, and she wore real jewels... After all, her clients liked her well enough to give her trinkets and such as if to reward her. And she liked it to a point.

"Sonia, dearest, let me waltz you around the room so I can give that bastard, Carrington (the patriarch of the Carrington family) a nice eye full of what he's missing out on by being faithful to his shrew of a wife." And so, surprisingly light on his feet, the old putz did just that.

Nisa walked into the ball and looked around. She had a face of delight but her eyes were wide at the many people there. She was studying them all and seeing the myriad of errors in their outfits. It was almost like they felt this was not a ball but some sort of wild festival that is usually relegated to the dark woods. It made her pause, but she would push through it, for her brother. Even if it started a nervous tap of her fingers against her long flowing skirt.

It was a time to drink and get his fill of food. Menachem had heard about it and managed to get in since everyone was invited. He had picked up a half decent suit, though how he paid for borrowing it or from who was his own secret. He had denied helping out, it was a party and he was going to enjoy it.

As the man smiled to others and avoided all conversation, he made sure to stand to the side so that he could get his food and drink with easy any moment he wanted. Otherwise, he stood around to look like just one of the guests and gave a pleasant nod. It was also a good chance to watch the people for anything useful as well as take a glance at the large wealthy house.

Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Whatever he did, he had one duty at this ball: don’t. make. eye contact.

Which, at 5’3” in a sea of men at 5’7” and onward had him staring at a lot of breast pockets.

However, in some rare cares, it had him looking straight into the black-ribboned bosom of a blonde whose name he hoped to never know. (Sonia DeAngelis, if he poked around.)

He’d always been more of a calloused hands-kind of guy.

She was waltzed away, and having forced his eyes up out of politeness just had his gaze skimming the room for the next scarecrow. He saw Elijah, frowned, and looked quickly away.

The last thing he needed was his sister murdering a constable.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Oh Allah above, the unguarded fruit punch bowl. How many people could she poison if he sneezed here?

“Someone you’d like to dance with?”

Her dancing meant less potential people to massacre. His gaze hit yet another familiar face up high: Menachem. What was he doing here? He’d have hoped he’d fled the country so Aslan could live vicariously through his fresh new start.

Before his sister had a chance to speak, the man in question noticed them. He grinned huge and walked up to shake his hand.

"Mr.Koç ?  It is Mr.Koç isn't it? So wonderful to see you again! I never hand a chance to give my thanks for all you have done! Such a brilliant man. Not only saved my life, but you really inspired me. I could never thank you enough, honestly."

As he shook his hand he noticed Nisa and chuckled. "Is this your wife? Prettier than a picture but I wouldn't expect less from such a fantastic man."

Nisa looked at the man in surprise as he spoke so familiar with her brother. And without a proper introduction. She stared but then smiled brightly the moment his eyes came to her. "Ah, I am Nisa. His sister, actually. And you are....?"