#kell1

He guessed that the new kind of slavery he found himself in, despite being far from pleasant, had its perks, after all. Other than the books, food came to mind: the three meals that the guards fed him every day were so much more filling than what he was used to getting when he was at home. 

That morning, he had even managed to sneak out half a muffin under his sweatshirt, saving it for a later time, just in case he got peckish. Thinking about it made his mouth water, so he raised his eyes from the pages, ready to wolf down his treat.

It was in that moment that his eyes fell on a slave sitting not that far away from him. His manly face was contorted in a grimace. He seemed… angry? Or maybe sad? It was hard to tell, but he didn’t look serene at all. It was hard to blame him, considering the situation, but Enrico still felt compelled to get closer to him, his desire to do his best to relieve those around him of their pain getting the best of him. “Do you want some?” He asked with a soft smile, handing the man his sugary treat. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing the Kresnik could offer him. “It has chocolate chips, so it’s nutritious and improves your mood! Not that you seemed malnourished or in a bad mood, of course.” He nervously added, always fearful of sounding offensive.  

Atanu had- for once doing something himself -carrying along a canvas that he had set out to dry in the garden in a private little corner. Oil paints were annoying like that, and yet at the same time to beautiful and worth it. He didn't trust anyone else ever to touch his art, so, the councilman was bringing it back to his suite after keeping a close eye on it for a few hours. He was in the quarters of the councilman's suites when a door down the hall from his own opened.

If he remembered correctly, that was Tiernan's suite, but the man who emerged was not him. Curious like a cat, his head tilted, the painting carefully being set to the floor as he watched the cambion grow closer before he decided to speak. "Greetings," He mused, voice light and welcoming, "Given your lack of escort, am I right to assume you're the Irish councilman's?" He didn't keep up with his colleagues pets, he had his own things to worry- obsess, really -over.

Roland was starting to feel like he needed a break from Euphoria. He'd been all over during the evening already but had spent some time here for the last little while, both with Rhys and without him after he'd left. There had been the run in with Seth but Roland had gotten through that (and had a few more needed drinks afterwards) but the constant, monotonous noise was getting on his nerves. He was gliding his way through the crowd towards the door when he noticed an impressive set of costume wings on the dance floor. Intrigued, he slowed and turned to see who was wearing them, grinning and changing direction when he recognized the man. It had been some time since he'd seen Kell and circumstances had changed for the slave somewhat recently but what better place than a party to renew their intimate acquaintance?

It wasn't his style of dancing but Roland still moved with inherent grace and rhythm, running cool fingers up Kell's very naked chest to his neck and jaw. Roland had abandoned his gloves some time ago. "My, what impressive wings you have." He teased, smirking. "Been some time hasn't it, petit chardon? Tell me, is your master the jealous type?" While Roland was generally fairly careful and respectful of the claimed slaves, the stunt Tiernan had pulled with Rhys not that long ago and the fact that Roland was no longer entirely sober had him very much inclined to ignore any rules Tiernan might have put in place for the slave tonight.