dancing

It's been said, that when you dance with someone you allow your heart to fall in love; if only for the length of the song. The steps are slow, the movement awkward- but for the briefest minute you are the only two in the world. The murmured counting brought my thoughts back to the steps, allowing my body to move with the beat.

“One, two-”

I'm not a dancer, nay- we aren't dancers. Ava had danced a few times at the club- mostly on the sidelines. She'd find a string of music and run with it, swaying her arms- imitating the other women on the stage. She'd always danced well opposite of Adalynn, mostly because Ada was willing to smile and support Ava's awkward sways. Those were the moments that I rested, when Ava would dance.

She was early.  Very early.  She was at the mercy of how fast the guard on patrol wanted to walk, and on a rainy morning like this they wanted to hurry and get back to the dry guardhouse.  So, she had left her escort at the bank as usual and ran to the clearing for her lesson.

She was early.

She felt the fear rising in her again.  She could walk the mostly empty streets with a guard.  She could even manage the trip around the lake alone as long as she ran and knew he was waiting for her.

He wasn’t there.

And she was alone.

((The following is written in neat, schooled script, but in a dialect of Thalassian letters unlikely to be understood by many. The book itself is small, with a dark purple leather cover and the initials KDB embossed on the corner. The entry is dated, and the latest in a series of other short, handwritten notes. Apparently, Kharris keeps a diary.))

~There's so much around me.

So many.

We dance and I watch them come together and spin apart. I can see so much from up here.

Hands touch. Smiles exchange. Feet are stepped on. A woman stumbles, her partner ignores it; a man has no rhythm, but sincerity, his partner leaves; and through it all, they put me up here. To watch and be watched. Costumed in far away affection and momentary interest.

I am not part of their dance. I am enjoyed, but not shared. I belong to the stage, not them.

Ian seemed happy for the first time tonight, since someone was paying attention to him finally. 

It was rather obvious earlier tonight at the club he’s got it bad for Adalynn. Not that she noticed or seemed to care; nope she just danced the night away performing for others. 

Ian was just left standing there and a bit tongue tied it seemed. Until my suggestion for him to return to my quarters to inspect the crates of books Maliandras had gotten his hands on, that broke the foul mood brewing there inside the poor man. 

So after a few bottles of some of Shryn’s finer wines and sitting next to him while he described the craftsmanship the stolen books he started to relax a little. 

Now and again I'd toss out a few questions about what I should look for in books, things which would catch the interest of collectors so they’d pay top gold for them.   This brought a smile to his face. 

I burn.  My mind running like a thousand armies clashing, the pain makes me want to howl.  I stay silent.  My eyes see those around me through a haze, but still I must stay silent.

“I see the crows. The one made to watch to guard the flock lets a threat within the territory,” Sheshafi said.  “Crows devour and destroy the failed guardian.”

Oh, we're dead,
And old,
And out of date.
We are not something
You want on your plate.

And when we gather together,
We do it well,
For in the heat of the night,
Our numbers do swell.

For we know how to have fun,
You may not think that right,
But we drink and we kill,
The scene is a fright!

Oh, Oh!
The whipping winds blow!
We dance through the streets,
Sun, rain or snow!

((More after the break))

(OOC Explanation of the event being hosted every Thursdays nights at 6pm Central Time starting Next Week. The Warlock Training Area in Silvermoon Moon City will temporarily transformed into a Penny Dinner Theater for the purposes of 'La Bella Morte' A Burlesque and Cabaret style Club starting as a weekly event for those wishing to rp etc. =) )

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Synn looks across Jericho before she finishes glancing through the last batches of murals, Joyia submitted. The lazy self indulgent smile that he held while glancing at her seemed almost par for the course with him. Her bank roller. It was most amusing to consider.

After a group of people are giving a large amount of free booze for dancing each table had a dancer on it for a long time. The Laughing Zhevra is the place to go to enjoy a relaxed and fun conversation!

(( There are more screenshots at my flickr ))

The orchestra had just started playing, softly at first,  gradually becoming louder as the party goers quieted down to watch as their host and his mistress began the first dance of the night.  Gathered within the room were some of the most influential and richest nobles of the city and a few visiting ones as well.  The men were wearing their newly tailored suits, polished shoes and gleaming rings and medals of commemorations on their chests or necks.  The women wore their best gowns, many the colors you would find in summer.  

On my way back from the ladies’ I stop and look over the crowd below. The music’s stopped for bit and the dancers are congregating around the bars for a drink or two. I watch for a bit, then look up to study the tiers. There’s Mister Worth with Miss Sophia on his arm, and it looks like he's watching something. I follow his gaze and see he's watching Ned and Bill talk.

“What's he up to?” I wonder, because Fatty Ellison is a big man with connections to all sorts of people and robbing him would be like cutting your own throat, pretty literally.

A fine sea-fog has rolled over the city, covering the covering the streets in a gray-yellow blanket that is half fog, half coal smoke.  Above it all, the Castle squats on its rock like a toad; it looks rather like a ship at sea, I fancy.  From where I am perched, five stories up on the roof of an Old Town tenement house, the sounds of the street below are muffled and indistinct.  I watch as the fog rolls past, little clumps of it catching on the chimneys and spires below, tearing off for a moment before rejoining the main mass.

*Dozens of flyers are posted all over every Horde Capital.*

"Adventuring not your thing? Would you rather have fun and party? More worried about a bitch queen instead of the Lich King? Either way "Tatai's Place" is hiring in advance of it's grand opening! We're a new Nightclub to Silvermoon, offering a variety of exotic beverages from the four corners of Azeroth, and just as exotic dancers and music to go with them! We're accepting everybody with a variety of talents and skills, stop by the Warlock Sanctum in Silvermoon after hours or contact the Club's lovely owner, a Missus Tesstirina Windstalker. Wether it's shaking a cup, shaking your fist, or shaking your hips, we've got a job for you!

Positions Needed:

Two: Bartenders/Drink Servers

Three: Dancers (Two Female One Male)

One: "Goods" Supplier

Booty Bay, for all its charm, is not known for being a source of high-class entertainment. Nor, I believe, would those who call it home appreciate such. Oh I am aware this fact doubtless influences the other, but simply speaking to the current circumstances a gallery of fine art in Booty Bay would not only record an attendance of zero, I am sure it would be burglarized to bare walls within the first four hours, if that.

No, I haven't tried it myself. I am not an idiot.

I am, however, a shrewd businessman: I know an opening when I see one.

Do you know what passes for entertainment in this backwater outpost, kid?

Fishing.

FISHING.

Not even the profitable sort with nets and teams and ships, no no. These buffoons fish with a hook and line. Competitively! As if anyone could possibly compete with a single fishing boat by using only a baited line! It's idiocy!

There is an area in Stormwind by the docks that has a tent and some wagons. I ask that this area become the Habor Bazaar hosted by The Sylvan Blades and open for public sales and window shopping. It doesn't have to be all work though; Drink, song, dance, and just fun (yet clean) times!

I do not know when we will have time to do this, that has yet to be determined; But I will keep you all updated. If you have any suggestions or would like to be a part of this, just leave me a message with you alliance character name so that I can get a hold of you with exact times and what you might be able to do to help.

(( I mostly assembled this info for my own reference, but figured I'd post it here as a means of introducing the character.  For those who knew Darling, this is the same toon renamed via a paid name change, but not the same character from an IC standpoint ... Spangle is an entirely separate character with her own backstory.  The Darling character's not dead, either ... I'll be bringing her back as a new class.  But ... um ... anyway!  On with the profile. ))

Pirate Fight Night is back!

When:  The ship will make anchor in the cove south of Ratchet Friday, April 25th 5:00 - 7:00pm Server Time (completely ignore the "event" time listed, it lies and I cannot fix it!  5-7 pm server time is right!).

Where: Look for the ship with the black and red sails in the cove just south of Ratchet, behind the Bloodsail Bucaneers. ((take the road south out of Ratchet until you get to the clearing and look left.  The mobs here are around level 12 and easy to get around.  You have to board the ship carefully via the pointy spire off the bow))

What???: Pirate Fight Night is your chance to come out, get down, get dirty and share some good, old fashioned fist fighting with friends from Horde and Alliance alike!  Booze is often served while the deck of the ship is turned into one giant brawl.  Though we may be pirates, there are still RULES for this mayhem:

 (( A little outdated.  Things have happened.  But I am a very slow blogger, I hope it doesn't cause too much confusion. ))

The wind was singing up here, and Kharris smiled slowly to hear its song.  Any number of people would have been cross, or more, had they seen her up there, but none of them knew.  The dancer was careful not to let their warnings or admonitions intrude on her peace.  The wind whispered freedom and carried away any thoughts of reservation.  She let it awaken her senses and carry her mind away.

It had been weeks—months?—since she had been on a roof.  Too long.

The sun was a bronze disc in the beaten sandy sky. Where the battering, bruising sky met the rolling dunes, it darkened to the hue of forged iron.
Along the pale shifting sand were the homes of those who named the desert theirs. Dark shadows where the dunes hardened into stable expanses hedged about by the shifting tides of pale gold.

This is mine.

Outsiders came sometimes, to learn the secrets of metal and subtlety. Sitting within the still air of the shadowed tents, probing with pale faces and paler eyes to understand what lay behind gleaming black eyes set in weathered wood. Pretending to enjoy the thick cold black coffee brewed in tiny bone cups.

Bones from those who have sought to take away my land. Bones from the impious and the treacherous.

Crowds, jostling, music 

((mature))

Dutaee drifted, it wasn’t the dark and lonely drifting of death, but the drifting of insane happiness, nothing in the world mattered, there was no bad elf there to hurt him, no recovering warp stalker named Shifter to care for, only the rise and fall of Dutaee’s tune.

The wind slides a few fine dark hairs from under her headband—gently teasing the young woman to chase the breeze, but she remains still. Her eyes are closed and she breathes deeply and rhythmically. Her strong bare toes curl against the smooth stone of the roof, grabbing and pulling at the dust and grit of the gentle c