(having had found herself involved in these "festivities", it would come as no surprise that arlecchino was not attempting to leave the party. unlike tharja, she knows quite well how to handle herself during one. she mingles, she talks, and she idly drinks her champagne without much thought. the crowd avoids this one. the staff has been (aside from what times she's called them over) particularly careful about seeing her, too. what a strange yet well-dressed woman to cause the crowds to avoid her. like something hangs over her, unseen and perpetual.
she says nothing else to the guests, to the few that dared to speak to her outside of indulgence in their questions. questions, discovering that she is quite intelligent, and her own curiosities on what she can grasp of their current situation. a lengthy party was not her ideal scene, but she's capable of making most things work while on the floor. perhaps even while stuck in this long party they're in.
tharja had caught her attention naturally, it's part of why she found herself there while looking at the die in thought. interesting twist, isn't it? she's nursing her own champagne before they're rolled and....then staring blankly. really? fondle her nose? she does frown about it, those odd and rather frightening pupils of hers glow for the moment in the dim light in this parlor they're in.)
And how exactly, pray tell, does fondling a nose work?
(her voice is deep, commanding, frightening to the lesser experienced. something might always stick out in it, but she's curious on what the other woman could possibly mean. the closer tharja's fingers get, the more that heat within her body can be felt. strongly. almost like a broiling volcano is within her, but that's strange, isn't it?
it must be, no person runs this hot. nobody could without dying, perhaps it's a trick of the mind from the alcohol flowing through them. yes, that must be it, but arlecchino stands firmly.)
dirty dice
she says nothing else to the guests, to the few that dared to speak to her outside of indulgence in their questions. questions, discovering that she is quite intelligent, and her own curiosities on what she can grasp of their current situation. a lengthy party was not her ideal scene, but she's capable of making most things work while on the floor. perhaps even while stuck in this long party they're in.
tharja had caught her attention naturally, it's part of why she found herself there while looking at the die in thought. interesting twist, isn't it? she's nursing her own champagne before they're rolled and....then staring blankly. really? fondle her nose? she does frown about it, those odd and rather frightening pupils of hers glow for the moment in the dim light in this parlor they're in.)
And how exactly, pray tell, does fondling a nose work?
(her voice is deep, commanding, frightening to the lesser experienced. something might always stick out in it, but she's curious on what the other woman could possibly mean. the closer tharja's fingers get, the more that heat within her body can be felt. strongly. almost like a broiling volcano is within her, but that's strange, isn't it?
it must be, no person runs this hot. nobody could without dying, perhaps it's a trick of the mind from the alcohol flowing through them. yes, that must be it, but arlecchino stands firmly.)