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commissioned the amazing @missinglaterals to do some chibis of the dnd party i'm dm-ing for. 10/10 experience, go comm him if you're looking for some fabulous art! from left to right on the bottom image is:
I’m so horribly behind on posting stuff from the April Art Club Event
It takes time to cross the room, and Mikael feels eyes on him as he slowly makes his way across the ballroom floor. It's sharp, calculated...distinct from the other hundereds of guests here for the party tonight. Dread floods through him as he wonders if he's been caught. It's been more than an hour after all. And his luck had been running a bit too smoothly tonight.
Instead, he turns to meet a familiar scowl head on. His anxiety dissipates as he unabashedly stares back at pale grey eyes, narrowed at him and radiating a cocktail of pent up emotion that has a shiver running down his spine and blood rushing to the tips of his ears. He feels pinned down, in the most delightful way.
He's flirted with the half elf before, many, many, times when he's busked in the center of town. He's a performer, it's just part of the gig. He knows he lays it on thick sometimes, especially when rent is due and he's still several coins short. And people tend to respond better to friendliness than to begging.
But his flirting was always meet with furious blush that made him feel like a kid with his first schoolyard crush. A desire to tease. The only way he's ever been taught to express affection. He can't help it, and for some reason, the half elf's rebuffs always hit home a little different, spurring on a embarrassing cycle of trying harder the next time just to be rebuffed again and again.
But the blush is what sticks in his mind. The anger in his eyes that doesn't always seem to be a result of being flirted with. He thinks for a moment of Verity, and wonders if he's doomed to always chase after people who ultimately will never want him.
But, those eyes are different than hers. There is an honestly that betrays enough that he feels confident in his decision to approach, despite his palms sweating as he sets his empty glass down on a passing tray.
Searos has found an alcove to sulk in, as far as he can get from the main floor without leaving the place entirely, shadowed by the balcony of the private boxes on the second floor. By the time they're standing face to face, Mikael feels his courage waver a bit.
The scowl hasn't softened, but his arms are no longer crossed. More just, hovering awkwardly like he doesn't quite know what to do with his hands. It's incredibly endearing, and he decides to take the risk.
Mikael reaches out slowly, telegraphing every move deliberately, so that Searos has plenty of time to step back if his presence is truly unwelcome. He's almost surprised, that he's allowed to lift his hand up to his lips as he bows slightly, bringing them both to eye level.
"Are you content to just watch? Or would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?"
He can see panic in those pale eyes, and internal battle he's not entirely privy to. He hopes for once, some of his sincerity bleeds through as he keeps steady eye contact and allows a smaller, softer smile to curl at the corner of his lips.
"Okay.”
It's almost lost in the noise of the room.
Mikael's eyes widen in surprise. But before he can second guess himself, he straightens up, still holding onto Searos' hand has he guides him out of the shadows and onto the ballroom floor. He can feel his pulse hammering away as Mikael threads their fingers together.
"Now hold tight," he says as he guides Searos to place and hand on his shoulder. "And just follow my lead."
He places his other hand on Searos' waist and pulls him closer, and Searos makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and looks like he's seconds away from jumping out of his skin. Mikael feels an overwhelming sense of fondness rush over him at the sight.
Oh, he definitely won't waste this opportunity to sweep him off his feet.
▫️▫️▫️
(Big thank you to @infiniteseahorse for putting up with my nonsense and subjecting the most babygirl shadow monk to his own romance novel 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ ՞𐦯 💕)
I’ve been so bad at keeping up with posting these, which is a shame cuz I’ve made a lot
As always, Aqua : @captain-cappie
Big thanks to Cappie for also helping me write out this little…fuckin…vignette(?) below the cut . Nebulously placed sometime before session 0 ✨
It hadn't been a for sure thing that they would end up at this Gala. Sting's ship had just docked in port that afternoon, and the crew given leave for the next two days.
It had been a pleasant surprise to be greeted by a familiar face, they never fully had the guarantee that they'd meet up again quickly when they parted ways for work. But Aqua had come bounding up to him on the docks, smile wide on her face as she grabbed his arm as if six weeks of seperate travels had been a mere six minutes.
"Oh thank fuck," she says in lieu of a hello.
He's used to her antics by now and just wraps one of his arms around her shoulders in a side hug.
"Any longer and I'd have had to spend the night with Cahwel," she sneers.
He hums seriously, looking down at her as she begins dragging him towards town.
"I'm honored," he deadpans, though the corner of his mouth ticks up.
"There's a gala," she explains with a flourish of her free hand as she steers him through the streets. "Exclusive. Invite only. Ask me how I got in!"
He humors her and Aqua chatters away as she leads him to a cheery tavern and shoves him straight upstairs. He hears a few greetings he imagines are from fellow sailors he's worked with before and he manages a quick wave before Aqua bullies him into the room at the end of the hall.
"We have hours, " she stresses as she closes the door behind them. "And you need to match this."
She points to a dress hanging on the other side of the room, and he suddenly feels like hours won't be enough. It's a very nice dress, and he can honestly say he doesn't have anything even slightly comparable to it. He lets out a low whistle as he looks it over.
"Well then, I hope you have something to work with," he muses as he turns back to her. "Otherwise you'll have to call Cawhel."
"What do you think I am, an amateur?" she replies with a self satisfied smirk as she tosses a pack on the bed. "I have your fancy closet here."
He tosses his own pack down on the other side of the bed and watches as she starts throwing various garments out of her bags. He finds himself wondering for the millionth time since they've met where she manages to keep it all.
She pulls out a few loose yards of fabric, and he suddenly gets an idea.
"Give me that one," he says, pointing to the one that landed on the headboard.
It's blue, with a pink gradient and a cross weave that is patterned to look like the ripple of light of the surface of water. It will do perfectly.
"Cut this here," he instructs.
In a few minutes he's in the washroom, folding the fabric in familiar patterns that take almost no conscious thought on his part. He swallows the sudden intense bout of longing that lodges itself in his throat as he straightens everything out and steps back into the room.
Aqua perks up as he reenters. She gives him a once over before her eyes get a gleam in them and she dives for her bag again.
"Stand there," she orders. "Don't move."
She begins sewing it in place on him, adding petal details and small beads to the shoulder and end of his sabai to match her dress. He meditates while she works, keeping his awareness enough that he can follow directions to turn when needed.
Eventually, he's declared done, and Aqua sets in to do his hair and makeup for him. He lets her without fuss, eyes constantly roaming to his own pack as she weaves strings of sea glass beads into his braids.
In the end, while she gets into her dress, he pulls the jewelry from the bottom of his pack. He hasn't worn them since surfacing, but...they feel right tonight.
When she exits, they both pause and take long look at each other. He can see the question she's fighting not to ask. But this whole thing they have works precisely because they don’t do that, so she refrains and continues on to pick out her own accessories.
They are fashionably late, and absolutely not because Aqua took forever to finish getting ready despite being the one with the finished outfit.
They arrive, and as expected, Aqua slots into place like she belongs here. They're surrounded by plenty of attendees. He begins to feel a bit claustrophobic with all the people around him, leaning in to try and converse with them.
He's also horrible at small talk.
It's not until Aqua speaks up that he realizes what's actually going on.
“Sorry people," she declares, squeezeing his upper arm. "But his dance card is already filled, by me.”
And with that, she successfully extracts him from the crowd and pulls him towards the dance floor.
Bewildered, he follows without much resistance. They fall into rhythm, dancing more formally than they usually do, though if Aqua is surprised he knows how, she does not comment on it.
"What's a dance card?" he asks, brow furrowed as she prompts him to spin her.
“Don’t worry about it, Weather Boy," she teases as she spins back into him. "Just dance with me. Unless you want to get thrown back into the sea of people?"
He looks back at her arched brow, meeting her empty challenge with a deadpan response.
"I'll stay where I'm better acquainted."
There's a pause before their faces crack and they both burst out laughing. They fully relax into each other, and while this definitely isn’t how he thought his night would end up, Sting can’t really find it in him to complain.
Obviously, I couldn’t choose between Morgan and Will…so…por que no los dos? Amorè definitely isn’t making a choice if she doesn’t have to 🤣 all these years into the campaign and I’m just now only getting around to putting my money where my mouth is on her fabled flirtatiousness.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
