Umbra Coven || with Aurora
As the sun began to set and the final announcement signaled the end of the Scavenger Hunt, Arya stood in the courtyard, a mix of exhaustion and mild frustration coursing through her. Hours of deciphering clues, hunting down magical scrolls, and navigating through riddles had come to a close, and while her team hadn’t exactly failed, they hadn’t won either, which wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for Arya. She wasn’t exactly used to losing, but Arya had never been one to care too deeply about something as trivial as a scavenger hunt. Sure, she was competitive by nature, but it was hardly the hill she was willing to die on.
Still, Renlin’s team? Really?
Arya’s lips quirked into a half-smirk, half-sneer as she thought about it. His team was hardly made up of tactical geniuses. She wouldn’t call them idiots to their faces, or at least some, but she definitely didn’t expect them to come out on top. Still, a win was a win, even if it wasn’t hers this time. It stung a little, but in the grand scheme of things, it was just a scavenger hunt. There’d be more important battles to win later.
She brushed off the loss with a shrug, already planning to dissolve the day’s events in a more immediate distraction, a party. And of course, because Renlin was never one to celebrate quietly, he’d decided to throw a costume party at the Umbra Coven to celebrate his victory. Typical.
Arya tugged at the edge of her coat as she stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her costume for the party. She was dressed as Cruella de Vil, and she looked every bit the part of the devilish, glamorous villainess. The black-and-white wig was sharp, her red lips bold, her dress was sleek, a mix of faux fur and leather, hugging her figure in all the right places, and the faux fur coat draped around her shoulders gave her an air of villainous elegance. A long cigarette holder rested between her fingers, not that she smoked, but the prop was iconic. Arya’s lips quirked into a sly smile as she glanced at her reflection in a nearby mirror. Cruella. It was fitting, wasn’t it? She was more than just a character, she was a mood. And Arya? Well, she was more than happy to play the part.
After all, the whole night felt like a parody of itself. She could lean into the absurdity, or she could stand at the sidelines judging everyone else. Both sounded appealing.
The Umbra Coven’s hall was filled to the brim by the time she arrived, her entrance as cool and calculated as ever. The party itself was, predictably, chaotic. The room pulsed with the energy of students letting loose after a long day of tension and competition, a sea of costumes ranging from the hilariously unoriginal to the disturbingly over-the-top. One guy had shown up in what Arya could only describe as a makeshift ghost,a bedsheet with unevenly cut eye holes. The effort was nonexistent, and so was Arya’s interest to be honest. She let her eyes pass over the crowd with casual detachment, the werewolves by the bar had clearly put in more effort, though the whole “wear a flannel and call it a day” approach was still lazy .Arya smirked, casually sipping her drink. She couldn’t help but take mental notes on the various efforts, or lack thereof.
Before she could settle into a quiet corner and fully embrace her role as the elegant observer, a voice broke through the hum of conversation. Aurora. Arya’s brow lifted slightly as she watched her. Aurora was dressed as a 1920s flapper girl, the beaded fringe of her dress shimmering under the dim light. It suited her, something vintage and classic, but still with that touch of flair. They weren’t exactly friends anymore, they hadn’t been close in a long time. Not since… well, not since things between them had soured. The reasons didn’t matter now. Whatever had caused the rift had grown cold with time, though the air between them still felt heavy with unspoken tension. Arya could sense the tension between them, like a thread stretched too tight, threatening to snap. She didn’t dwell on it often, but now, seeing Aurora cutting through the crowd toward her, she glanced around the room before her gaze settled back on her. She took another sip of her drink, tilting her head slightly as Aurora reached her.
“Sure,” Arya replied coolly, raising a brow as she studied her face. Aurora stepped closer, but there was something in her eyes that didn’t match the outfit. Something guarded, almost fragile, that Arya hadn’t seen in a long time. But she has always been good at reading people. The flapper girl costume almost seemed out of place now, a symbol of carefree glamour against the weight of whatever she had weighting on her. Arya, still holding her drink, leaned casually against the mantle of the fireplace, her posture relaxed but her focus sharpened. “What’s on your mind, Dear?”
@astxrism Rory
@Madilfill Renlin mentioned