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“Is the neon signage saying ‘Girls Girls Girls’ or ‘Imminent Danger’? I really can’t tell.” Celestine’s tone added a sense of boredom with each conversation becoming quite dull. It was as if she was sensing it would come to a conversation about weather, or maybe even just clothes. “Besides, I do like muted tones. It’s just that, and I do suggest that people try to spice it up a bit. As they all say, the world is your oyster.” Her sense of boredom was once drained however once he had mentioned the 1967 Balenciaga oval dress, she added to her comment, “To be frank, I do. Have you seen that dress? It’s amazing—a craft of artistry I would die to just wear to an event.” Looking back at him, her look softened with the compliment as she thought of her style being a little too… late for modern taste. “But you flatter me too much; I am no fashion standard when the styles I’ve been wearing are around 50 years too late. If anything, praise Mary Quant. I’m simply a lover of fashion rather than being the standard that causes too much headache and responsibility.”
Looking from his shoes to the mask that he wore, she re-examined his outfit for further inspection as his comment on the timelessness of a black outfit regurgitated from the back of her mind. With a silent chuckle, she shook her head ever so slightly as she looked back at his direction to give the dreadful news on her opinion to his style, "But not all black is slimming, don’t you think? You can throw in leather as much as you want, but there is a sense of suave if you know what articles of black garments would look good. Rather than just wearing something so plain that represents indecisiveness. And lack of creativity, may I add? A quick inspection ran through her head once more as her urge of wanting a new look on his style grew stronger. “Are you quite sure you don’t need a stylist? I have so many contacts that can transform you from greasy greaser to James Dean extraordinaire. You could even rock an all-leather detective suit for the next party. It’s hot. Literally. But it gets the message to the crowd. If you want mobility, I can even substitute the leather pants for chaps.”
With Dante’s confirmation of cluelessness to the references she had pulled out, she let out a laugh, ever so restrained to control the volume that may come out of her mouth. Wiping the imaginary tears from the mask that she wears, her attitude hinged on such grace yet hinted a sense of mischief with her achievement in at least ruffling that proud demeanor, “And you were playing along with what I have said; you were so lucky I made some description of their character. Not so lucky with the recent comment, I guess, but it seems that I did that to mess you up a bit. Quite entertaining, if you ask me…”
With the same cadence of grace she had held up, she only gave him a simple chuckle as she took a sip from her drink that was almost empty. Even with her graceful demeanor, it seems that time took a toll on entertaining him, making her disinterest slip in and out with some of her words slurring like a pompous old lady who had a little too much to drink. Flipping the few curls that cascaded in her hair, her voice rang in a sarcastic tone. “If you were a jester, yeah, a great accessory. But who would want to be fool’s gold or an overpriced piece of carbon?” Tapping on his shoulder, she added to her comment, “If you are to accessorize yourself, you might as well focus on the craftsmanship and a truly worthy piece of mineral. Not to say anything, but a bit of workshop is needed on that ‘comedy pyrite’ you easily accept for your roster.”
As though the conversation shifted and she saw a difference in his cadence, she stood in disbelief that he could actually talk to her seriously without his one-note jokester tone. Even with her angered stance, the shift made her fix her dress subtly as she thought hard about his insights. Keeping up the appearances, she looked at him with the same serious gaze. “Even if they are, one should not underestimate humans and their awareness of their surroundings. The gardens are unforgiving, yes, but even if they are not able to see the vibrant colors of the surroundings, they are able to see the difference in shades, are they not? Even if they are not aware of that, they could see a weird specimen of flowers or even just their setup.” She stopped for a while as she could not answer the final question. She agree that not all are aware of what goes underneath, yet she wanted to focus on the subject on people whom seek a peaceful admiration rather than adventure, “Yes, not all are aware of the garden’s nature and see the flowers as only flowers, and I am not blaming them for that. I am saying that people may not seek adventure in the gardens and simply prefer to admire their surroundings. The garden’s purpose is its culmination in flora and beauty, and they will use that advantage; not all of them would go around prancing in the gardens to peruse its secrets. I’m sure when the garden sees that one uses their surface beauty, they won’t suck them into its secrets unwillingly. As I said, not all are adventurous types and do not seek adventures.”
The change in tone in the conversation did calm her, as if the platforms she saw were leveling to an equal degree. She appreciated like-minded conversations, but her smile did quickly fade once she saw the sign of going back to the usual conversation she was once relegated to, her style. It is not unusual for anyone to compliment her style, and yet Dante had not dropped the emphasis on her style. Slightly defeated, she gave a formal tone to deflect his playful manner of speech. “You made it seem like I was the only girl in this ball to view things the way I view things in this world, and that is simply not the case.” Emphasizing her dissatisfaction on his overtly emphasis on her looks, she responded back with a hint of disappointment, "You make too many details about my surface appearance; does that mean that my merit is only determined by style and not by the fact that I share the viewpoints of people who have walked the same path as me? Subtlety works, but a butterfly effect takes place once that simple gesture turns into that world shaking view. "
With some form of amusement to his comment, she gave out a grin with his comment as she thought of the obvious. Yes, she does have secrets, but not more than average. Sure, they were slightly unconventional secrets, but they are secrets meant to be hidden until she too will sleep six feet under. “An enigma wrapped in Roberto Capucci, eh?” Celestine raised her head in slight amusement, continuing on with her statement. “But I will not confirm nor deny such comments on that. Your comment hinges on some truths though; there are secrets, but no one is oblivious to show their cards to a person they don’t even know that much about. Plus, everyone here has a secrets, that would be like telling someone that they may have blinked!” Continuing on his comments on her style, she redirected the question back to his style as she waved her finger around his suit, “I mean, a well-tailored outfit can be an advantage for making connections and keeping secrets. Speaking of suits, are you willing to show your secrets as well, enigma wrapped in black rags?”
As both walked slowly outside the ballroom and into the gardens, both playing the doting couples to get out of the scenery, she found some hits in his comments to throw him off his game. Keeping the light tone, she dramatically exclaimed to him as the background of the ballroom dissipated. “My mother used to say that men use women like shiny accessories to show them around like trophies. Dress them up in glitter; they’d be the belle of the ball.” Pretending a shock on her face, she hurriedly added an exaggerated remark on her statement, “Is that why you’re wear something so plain? So that I would be nothing but a piece of jewelry on your wrist? Is that what you’re insinuating?”
Soon enough, they had reached the gardens, albeit from the outside walls of the garden’s hedges, as both looked for the entrance. It was dark, and the lights that should illuminate the campus were ever so dim as to make it harder to discern who would appear and disappear. It was truly a safe spot, hearing nothing but the rustle of the leaves and crickets from afar. Her demeanor was still riddled with thoughts of doubt and contemplation, however, as she re-evaluated every single detail that could ruin Beaumont’s name. Dante had replied, and within his first comment, she grew worried that he may have seen some flaws that could incriminate her. She awaited for his observations, yet found his usual playful behavior. Hearing every comment with his sunny disposition had struck a nerve within her system. That demeaning “my dear,” the teasing, and the way he was nonchalant made it seem like he didn’t even care about her feelings. Here she was, formal yet showing signs of worry, and yet he had given her nothing but playful banter and a hit on her character. She had soon found it worthless to be so formal in a place where little people could hear, and as she turned back, with her calm face scrunched in anger, she flicked the pinky from his “demonstration” of drinking tea and pushed him hard from the hedges. “You think this little game with your teacup pinkies makes me the one who’s not on their right mind, huh? I did not spend seventeen-fcking years just for you to belittle me on what I have learned, just for you to label me as what—a hypocrite? This whole fcking night, you made sure to make me small in all forms that matter, making it seem like I’m this- Prissy Little Princess in Gold!” Coming closer as she huffed, she poked Dante’s chest with every diction of emphasis on the rage she had felt. There was no turning back, and she had been the one to snap once again, “I had to endure every single hollow conversation you hit me with and I’ve been courteous about it, dearie. I made sure to entertain you with all your weak @ss comments and I was elegant doing it, dearie. There have been longer rambles made by god knows how many upper crusts I’ve met and endured, yet I’m the one who is not graceful and courteous? Do not make me the one who needs the training because I have been doing this longer than what you have done, my shtty dearie!”
As though the world had spun from the words she spewed out, she grew tired. A sense of dizziness had hit her as the reality of the situation grounded her back into the world. A lady once regarded for her elegance and perfection was marked down by her meltdown, and she was truly fearful of what may come out of the situation. Looking into the man with blurry vision forming in her eyes, she closed them as she turned back to slump on the hedges as well. Her tired body, unchanging, let out a weak voice as she turned slightly. “I need a breather. Just… don’t touch me.”
There was a passage of time with a silence far different from the silence before that. Despite his light-hearted tone, she couldn’t muster up words as her sense of defeat grew wider than she had anticipated. Despite her silence, she complied with his words as she followed him to the side of the school building. Once at the edge, she had slumped once more on the walls with her eyes closed, tired of it all. Her invigoration to move forward, however, was a sound of a thud from behind her, as she had sensed that he had finally mustered up some revelation about who he was. By that point, she knew, and with her tired words, she responded to the sound with her back turned. “And so the mask has fallen down.” A split second of silence had formed, but she continued on as her voice grew stronger, “Maybe it’s just how my mind works, but I’ve been deducing who the hell you’re supposed to be from the start.” Again, a silence took place, but she would soon move from left to right as she started to deduce her information, “There are at least, what, four groups? Two I’ve omitted: I’ve never met anyone who fits the description of a cocky man in Quantum and certainly no carefree @ssholes in Ciphers. I’ve met dazzling personalities from Enigma and Umbra, yet I had a hunch on one of the groups, especially with the help of one great friend who always would describe to me who and what they were dealing with.” From that point, she had regained her usual composure as her voice went back to the graceful diction she and others were familiar with. With a tone signaling a smile, she pushed forward, “Couldn’t be from Enigma since I have not recalled a demeanor similar to descriptions I have noted in my mind, some close but no cigar. The aforementioned demeanor suggests a sense of carefree and brash idiocy, something familiar and shared with one particular… bro group. And which of the group is known to be a sort of brotherhood, care to answer?” It was a rhetorical question she had asked, but she awaited if he had any comments, only to cut him off if she had even heard a huff of air coming out of his mouth. “You may have sensed that I have had a hunch on who you are, noting the fact that professors aren’t necessarily fond of you and your antics. Of course, I am familiar with you, so your voice and stature aren’t strange anomalies. And with my rambling, I would guess that the person behind me would be Mr. Dante Blackwell.” Turning back, she looked at him dead on as she let out a small chuckle, confident that she has not yet faltered, more so with her instincts.
“It was quite a bold decision to reveal underneath the dull mask, but it would be stupid of me to do the same thing as well. You have been sloppy to name me a few times, even though I am aware I stick out in a flock of birds, but it is courtesy to not name a masked stranger unless I have given mine and yours.” That grin on her face was obvious, even with her mask. But as her grin faded out, she took a long thought as she sighed in pity. “I would laugh at you and refuse to even open my mask, but I know I will not hear the end of this once we resurface at the ball. And so I will comply, and once more, do so out of spite.” Pulling the golden ribbon from behind her head, she carefully pulled her mask so as not to tangle her hair or make her appearance unseemly. Fixing the back of her hair, she gave a simple curtsy as she held both of her arms in anticipation.“Now that our identities are vulnerable to the environment, I would assume the next step would be to follow this… adventure you speak of. If this is your definition of an embarkment more thrilling than strolling to the gardens, I will laugh and go back to the ballroom as I please as if nothing had happened here.”
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@Jass - Dante
