Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Valentine Park

as written by Script

"Impressive," Peregrine remarked, nodding his head appreciatively. Like Tristram, the Lacroix preferred his rifles to a pistol, but given that - more often than not - fieldwork involved more use of his sidearm than anything else, he was far from out of practice with the latter. "And thanks for the advice."

When his name was called, the paladin cracked his knuckles and grinned. "Right, then. Watch and learn, gentlemen."

He stepped up to the stand with a swagger, flashing smiles to the crowd on the way - a few waves, here and there, to those he recognised (or were cheering louder than the rest) - before taking up the pistol with a small flourish, spinning it a few times upon a finger before loading it up and taking his position. A beat passed, and all the frenetic energy seemed to leave the showy paladin in an instant. He steadied his breathing, and his face became a mask of focus.

He nodded to the referee, and the targets went up.

The pistol sounded with a crack, followed by a split-second hesitation before the next two shots followed. The paladin hadn't fired quite as swiftly as Tristram, but what Peregrine had sacrificed in speed, he'd made up for in accuracy. Both the standing and moving targets had been struck dead centre, and the aerial one had shattered. The precision allowed his score to edge into the lead by a few points.

As his score was announced, the paladin's cocky grin returned, and he made his way back over to Robert, Tristram and Noah. "You were right, Tris," he noted, "that little speed-up would've caught me off-guard if not for the warning, so thanks."
 
as written by glmstr

"As a matter of fact, my cappuccino receives excellent wireless signal from here," Abel smirked, "enough so that I can use the caffeine app quite effectively."

He reached into the leather satchel and retrieved a cellphone, turning it on for only a few seconds before stuffing it back away. "In all seriousness, the signal is poor but I'm still getting one."
 
as written by Emperor Jester

If it...had been anyone else, anyone at all asking him about the past...Kurtrin might've snapped, barked, screamed at them to leave him and his memories be. But these were children, bright eyed at meeting what they assumed was a hero of the past age, not some bitter old drunk whose only hope was to die on the battlefield. They didn't deserve to have their excitement squashed, not for what they thought were innocent questions. The Golden who hold up a hand to the mother, and give all three of them a soft, wrinkled smile. "No, no, its quite alright. I imagine this is what having grandchildren would be like, you know?"

The towering old man would squat down in his gleaming plate, getting as close to eye level as he could with the two young boys. "Now see here, this isn't the first time I've heard the rumor about the tire iron, but I have to tell you two, as a secret between just us, it wasn't a tire iron, it was a shovel. And as much as I'd love to talk about the battle in the Cathedral with you two whippersnappers, I'm afraid the Order still has most of those records sealed. Not allowed to." He'd then give each of the youths a pat on the head before rising back to his full height. A sad look would cloud over his eyes as he looked away from them and back towards the mother. "Fine boys. Very curious. Please, don't think they caused me any bother."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Izaic would be late to arrive to the contest grounds. He'd decided, rather last minute, that participating in the marksman tournament would bring his injured limb nothing but further trouble. Besides, aside from that, after the previous day's...revelations...the dark haired youth was too emotionally exhausted to care. His arrival was late enough that the first few rounds had already passed, and the tourney attendants were in the middle of setting up the course for the next contestant. As the proselyte browsed the sidelines and bleachers for a decent place to take a seat, he wouldn't see too many of his contemporaries or his peers. There were a few of them, but none that the brute would be interested in standing next to, let alone beginning a conversation with. Especially Peregrine and his...ilk. He'd rather drown than talk to that pompous ass.

Still, Izaic would eventually spot one person he might be able to stomach talking to, if both of them could keep things from getting too awkward. A few moments later, Celeste Hogan would feel gauntleted fingers tap gently on her left shoulder.
 
as written Faithy

Jimmy stood silently off to the side as he watched the shooting competition start off. He decided he’d watch this and then head back to his room to start packing his things up. It was clear that his time here was done with and that only a slim few would actually miss him. Sliding his fingers through his hair, the Proselyte knew he needed to clear things up with Celeste, but upon seeing Izaic moving over towards her, he decided to just wait a few minutes until the male left.

So much for sticking it out for a while longer. Oh well, it’s time. Jimmy idly listened to the conversation happening around him, but didn’t really join in. He was afraid someone else would know something was different about him.

____

“Maaaaaaaaaan, I wish I would’ve joined in the events this year! I’d love to shoot off a gun!” Mia shook her head, standing beside the group that had gathered. She didn’t know where Neera or Souci was, but knew they’d find her eventually. Studying the contestants, the young Proselyte noted their strengths and weaknesses before beginning to drift off into la-la-land. Would they even have events next year? Hell, would anyone even be around the next year or would they all be slaves to a violent overseer? Frowning at that though, she just shook her head, focusing once again on the event.
 
as written by Krysis

Celeste had been giving a worried frown as she leaned on a barrier, waiting for her sister's turn in the contest. Even Izaic's approach hadn't cleared the cloud in her eyes or smoothed her wrinkled brow. When he actually wanted her attention, it surprised her enough that she just stared at the big male for a moment before shifting to one side to give him room to join her at her vantage point.

"Hey. What's up?" She did give a quizzical look at the sugary smear and the lingering aroma of a sweet drink on the young warrior, but wasn't going to comment. At least, not unless there were too many flies interested in the spill.

When Pierette was announced, the brunette proselyte's attention snapped to the ring, and her hand on Izaic's side would clutch at his arm as if she sought an emotional anchor to keep her grounded. "I don't know what she is playing at. 'Rette has never been as good as me at shooting."
 
as written by Ronin

Tristram adjusted his glasses. "Ah. Please. I'm sure you would have figured it out on your own..."

Robert gruffed. "No more help, Tris. We can be good sports after you trounce Perrin with your rifle scores."

After Pierette took her turn with the pistols, the midrange rifle contest began. It was identical to the pistol contest but was performed with .30 caliber semi-automatic rifles at a greater distance.

As before, Tristram took his spot on the grass and inspected his equipment. The targets went up and three shots rang through the air. Each target was cut clean through, the projectile smashed to bits. His marksmanship was perfect. Only an improved time could beat his score.

"That's what I'm talking about," Robert clapped his hands together, grinning.

---

"Cappuccino, huh?" the teenager smirked at Abel, "I'm more of a 'flat white' kinda guy, but I'll admit they get horrible wireless."

He looked down at Abel's phone with eyes wide. "Woah! Dude! Blast from the past. I haven't seen a flip-phone since the third grade." He chuckled, his tone amused and teasing, but far from disparaging. "These things are indestructible though. Hear you could beat someone with the side of it." He looked up at the proselyte. "Just never got around to nabbing a touch screen? They're not quite as reliable but... I mean... Snapchat, Instagram, Hearthstone... it's all there, man."

---

The children listened to Kurtrin's stories as if they'd come from the mouth of God. When he was finished they only glared up at him, eyes wide, little heartbeats fluttering with the shock of being told a genuine tale of knighthood and chivalry from one of the greatest knights yet living. Even his regretful abnegation of explaining the church skirmish elicited supreme excitement. Simply NOT being able to tell a story was a joy and privilige from the lips of the Golden Knight.

"You are kind, sir," the woman came forward to retrieve her boys, "you saved the city, years ago, and now you set an example for our youth. Selene's blessing upon you, and the light illuminate your path." She tugged at the children.

"I'm gonna be like him, mom," Kurtrin would hear the youngest boy prattle ere they passed from sight, "not gonna' be afraid of ANYTHING, just like him, and I'm gonna be ten feet tall and have armor made of DIAMONDS, which is even MORE valuable then gold..."
 
as written by glmstr

"Unfortunately, the Order's monthly stipend of cash is not the largest sum in the world. Some of the other proselytes have smartphones, either from dumping their church money on it or their families paid for them, but I'm saving quite a bit of my allowance and my own family paying for it is out of the question. Thus, I picked something cheap that does much of what I need a phone to do, namely call people and send text messages."

Abel glanced at the teenager's phone, "Don't get me wrong, I'd definitely enjoy having a fancy device. It's just expensive and I can't really get the church's collection of old tomes as ebooks." Many of Lachapelle's monthly allowance was tucked away for unexpected future use, but the portion he did regularly spend often went to the collection of secondhand books and antiques from the before the Night of Black Tears. The aforementioned turmoil destroyed a vast amount of magical materials and knowledge, not just for necromancers but magicians of all varieties throughout Lutetia. This, of course, put the prices on many of these artifacts to a premium, forcing the curious proselyte to pay for pricey reconstructions and reprintings to access books otherwise priceless and delicate.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic would begin to answer, but then find himself at a loss for words. It wasn't as awkward as he'd expected it would be. "Not much," he'd begin, "I just saw you standing over here all by your lonesome. Looked like you could use some company." Celeste's fellow proselyte also thought she might need something to distract her from what looked like the early stages of some kind of anxiety attack. An exaggerated thought of course. Odds are the girl was perfectly fine, if a bit nervous.

Turns out though, he might not've been far off the mark. She'd never been a touchy-feely person, so to have her reach of, physically, and attach to him was not something he had expected to happen. Nor did he really mind.

"Well then you have nothing to worry about right? Just watch, I bet she doesn't do as well as you did by half."

~~~~~~~~

Kurtrin would only continue to smile in a soft, patient sort of way at the family's eventual departure. The elderly paladin admired the young boy's spirit, his enthusiasm, but at the same time...found himself hoping the boy never grew to hold a blade. He didn't know what such a duty truly meant for anyone who took up the Silver. The more he dwelt on it, the morn bitter the mother's choice of words turned. He had hardly saved the city. He alone had barely managed to accomplish anything at all. It hadn't made much of a difference anyway. It was clear to the Order now their victory over the Darkness had been a pyrrhic victory hadn't been a victory at all. Some shadows had managed to evade the Wick's judgement, and now those shadows had returned. All the sacrifice had been in vain. The oath of vengeance The Golden had sworn as a youth had been prematurely ended. He wasn't a hero.

But it was good for the common folk to have heroes. Heroes inspired hope. So the charade was continued. "And blessings on you and your children, ma'am!" He'd call out joyously, sounding so honest and sincere the old man nearly tricked himself.
 
as written by Krysis

The distracted brunette tried her best to keep up a conversation, but was having a hard time. "It looked like you had lots of company earlier-- Fuck! Shit! Look at her! This is why I hate going first. They all got to see what the targets would do, and all of it was new to me."

Celeste's grip tightened on Izaic's fingers with every shot from her sister. Pierette seemed almost careless, barely glancing at the targets, but her shots were nearly perfect. It was like she was paying more attention to where she was moving than where she pointing her gun.

Finally she let go of Izaic's hand and bashed her hands on the fence in front of her in frustration. "Damn it! She-- This can't be right."
 
as written by Emperor Jester

At first, Izaic was certain it was just a sibling rivalry rearing it's ugly head, a bitter case of sister-on-sister aggravation, but the more he watched, the more he became convinced that Celeste might be right. It was hard to place it, considering the skill levels of some of the contestants sure to follow, but this...Pierette...almost seemed too lackadaisical in her marksmanship, and yet, was suffering no ill side affects from it. Sometimes, it looked as if the elder Hogan was moving towards the next target before the previous round had even found its mark.

That wasn't a skill set some one was born with. That wasn't something a person could pick up on the street. That was either something honed into a person through months or years of intense training...Or...something else.

Of course, these were just the ideas of a Proselyte, with no evidence at the ready to back it up, but he felt a distaste for the woman grow in his gullet as he watched. At no point had the chocolate haired youth said said anything about Celeste's proximity, but he did move away from her ever-so-slightly so he could catch her eyes with his. His fair face, home to the barest traces of stubble, studied his peer for a moment, before finally admitting.

"You might be right..."
 
as written by Krysis

Celeste gave a bitter smile and a quick nod, "She probably took something to enhance her reflexes. I don't think it is precisely against the rules, but it is certainly bad sportsmanship."

The brunette's jaw was set, the muscles in her neck and cheeks tense with her anger, but it just made her look like she was giving a 'determined' face. Her resolve to beat her sibling was mighty, but overshadowed by the sheer rage that had her dark blue gaze glittering ominously as she met Izaic's look. Then it was like she crumbled from within, looking up at him, before she turned her attention back to the arena.

____

For her part, Pierette was elated. For once, she was going to beat her baby sister. And everyone would see it. And the most important person of all would know her worth. She could almost taste it, how proud he would be of her, and what use she had put his gifts towards.

Even beneath the cheering of the crowds, she could hear the targets, the little tell tale creaks and groans before they sprang into view. Plus she could see the auras of the people deciding where and when, and already recognized the brief flare of decision that heralded something new to shoot.

It was almost too easy. Almost.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic caught the look, and the shift in her entire demeanor as Celeste returned her attention to her sibling. He'd have to talk to some of the judges or masters, anyone at charge really, at some point. If Hogan was right, and Pierette had taken something to push her abilities over the edge, surely that had to be against some sort of regulation or rule, or at the very least it would get some points taken away from her. But its not like the Church had the authority to pull anyone aside for questioning, much less a piss test, over some festival tournament. At least, he was sure they didn't.

~~~~~~~

Moments later, Kurtrin would stumble across his protege, spotting him in the crowd that had gathered to watch the marksmanship contest. It appeared the young Hogan was with him as well, and the two seemed...close. But worried about something. A frown creased the ancient paladin's features, not due to the proximity of the two proselytes, but because of the look on their faces. He wouldn't get there immediately, but the Golden would start to wade through the crowds, eager to find out why the two looked upset.
 
as written by Script

The tournament continued on, with several other shooters taking their turns but most falling well short of the Monastery's representatives on speed and accuracy. Tris took the lead during the 200-metre rifle stage, whilst Pierette continued to keep pace with the pair of them - astonishing, for someone that had none of the extensive training of the Monastery. Celeste was left to trail in fourth place, whilst Pier and Perrin tied for second just behind Tris.

By the time they were stepping up to the long range rifle, Perrin's favoured event, he was getting nervous. Surely this girl couldn't beat him with his best weapon. Could she?

It turned out she could.

The crowd went wild for the underdog, stealing second place out from under the nose of one of Lutetia's elite. Peregrine was left utterly stunned, all his bluster abandoning him in the wake of her shots. Still, he wasn't one to get too sore over a friendly competition, and he recovered quickly - offering his congratulations to Pierette and Tris and gracefully accepting his loss.

Still, it was a little unsettling. Where had she learned to shoot like that? By her sister's reaction, it was ... new. Might there be magic at work? Surely not. They had people for that, didn't they?

In any case, the question was soon forgotten in favour of enjoying the rest of the day's festivities, notably the drinking contest - at which the Hogans once more put in an impressive showing, with Robert Sr. taking the crown - and another day at the Aurellae passed by.

____

The Friday of the Aurellae passed without any unusual fanfare. Victory in the archery competition was claimed by a huntress from one of Lutetia's outer villages, whilst the sprinting was won by one of Lutetia City University's athletes. It seemed that after a day of upsets and conflict, the festival was owed one day of things going relatively smoothly.

Saturday morning came, the day of the fencing tournament's second round. Being the second most popular event of the Aurellae, and the first weekend day, the crowds were heaving. More food stands and carnival games had sprung up overnight to take advantage of the increased business, but still the makeshift streets of the festival were bursting at the seams.

"Big crowd, huh?"

Valère looked up from fastening the last few straps of his padding to where Alvère was stood a few paces away, looking out of the staging area at the buzzing crowd beyond. The stands were packed. Anyone could be sitting there, and they'd have no idea. He suppressed a grimace.

It was the first time he and his brother had left the house since Wednesday, and their encounter with Nox. He'd never felt more exposed just walking out of their front door. Logically, he knew that they were barely a blip on the monster's radar, but logic didn't really help overcome the pit of worry in his stomach. That they were on his radar at all...

"Val?" He blinked. Al was looking back at him, one eyebrow raised in concern. He forced a smile.

"Sorry, just daydreaming." Val ran a hand through his fringe, leaning back on the bench. "Yeah, it is. What's the matter? Getting performance anxiety?" He smirked.

Al folded his arms, scoffing. "As if. The bigger the audience the better, I say. Everyone will get to see me thoroughly trounce you."

"Hmm, maybe. Or maybe I'll surprise you." He shrugged, flashing an innocent smile. Of course, he didn't really think that he was likely to beat Al. They'd duelled enough times for him to know that his brother had an edge on him when it came to their fencing. That didn't make it any less fun to tease him, though.

Al chuckled, sauntering back over to lean onto him, and rested his chin on the top of his head. "Maybe you will. Either way, you'd best not make it too easy for me. We ought to give the people a show they'll remember."

A show to remember, indeed. Val had no intention of going down easily. "I'll make you work for it, Al. Just you wait."

"I'm excited," Al straightened, ruffling his hair affectionately. Val noted a pause, his brother's hand coming to rest atop his head. "And try not to worry too much about... y'know." Al stepped over the bench to drop down to sit beside him, giving him one of his gentler, more genuine smiles that always put him at ease. "Just daydreaming? Yeah, right. We've got our people out in the crowd. If anything goes wrong, we've got a ticket out."

Val sighed, nodding. Al was right. They'd spent the last two days with their parents running through all their connections to find a team of bodyguards that suited them. A bunch of suited cannon fodder was out of the question. They wouldn't be able to go anywhere fun flanked by those sorts of goons. No, they needed subtle and effective. People that could blend into a crowd, but be with them in a second if they had to be.

In his own opinion, he thought they'd done pretty well. He held no illusions about their new escorts being able to stop Nox... but at the very least, they'd be able to get the two of them out alive.

"Yeah." He smiled back, reaching over to squeeze Al's hand briefly. "I know. Everything will be fine."

"Well. Dunno about everything. You still have to deal with me whooping your ass." Al winked, then burst out laughing when Val punched him in the arm.

"You're insufferable." Val said, rolling his eyes.

"And yet, you suffer me."

"I'm kind of obligated to, brother."

As they devolved into playful bickering, thoughts of Nox drifted further and further away. If nothing else, Al certainly did have a knack for distracting him.

____

"I told you not to worry." Aurelion said.

In the stands, Inarin glanced up at his brother, smiling. After the twins had failed to show up a second day in a row, he'd started to think that something particularly bad had happened. In hindsight, it had been stupid. Of course a pair of billionaire teens had better things to do than spend all week hanging out at a community festival with a bunch of Monastery kids. Or take him to dinner.

"Yeah," he turned his eyes back down to where they could see Al and Val chatting on one of the benches in the staging area. "I guess I was just getting worked up over nothing."

That said, he was sure Val had sounded unsettled when they'd spoken briefly on the phone come Thursday. Something had to have happened. Just probably not something he should have been dwelling on. A weird part of him was almost... disappointed, he realised in a moment of dismay. The fact that things seemed fine meant that they might have just cancelled on him because they couldn't be bothered, or they weren't actually that interested in hanging out with him...

Seemingly reading his mind, Aurelion patted him on the back. "I'm sure something came up. There's a middle ground between the end of the world, and just being lazy dicks. Just go down and chat with them after their duel."

Inarin laughed, blushing slightly. "Ah, yeah. Right again. I'm just being paranoid, again. Honestly. You'd uh, think I would get tired of it."

"You'll get over it eventually, In. Confidence takes a while to build. You're doing a pretty good job, by my reckoning. Seriously. Like hell would I have been remotely comfortable hanging out with a pair of billionaire twins when I was seventeen, and yet here you are talking about it like it's the most normal thing in the world."

"I... I guess so." Inarin snickered at the thought of Aurelion being bashful around anyone. He'd never seemed that way when he'd been Inarin's age, but then, his memories were probably more than a little biased by perspective. He was right, though. It was easy to forget that the twins were from a totally different world, sometimes. That was probably a good thing, wasn't it? That they weren't treating him differently for being... well, very different?

He sighed. "I should probably just stop overthinking it, shouldn't I?"

"Definitely." Aurelion laughed, ruffling his hair. "That brain of yours should take a rest every now and again."

Yeah. That was a plan. Stop cycling through hypotheticals for five minutes, and actually just enjoy watching the duel. He could do that.

Probably.
 
as written by glmstr

Behind the waiting area unofficially claimed by the Lacroix fencing school, several shade tents stood in a cluster to form what the school's owner and his family used as a staging area. Lucas and Karine remained within line-of-sight of the tents with colorful drinks in their hands, and young Camille sat half-dressed in the competition padding under one of the tents, leaving many of the zippers and straps mostly undone to stay cool for as long as possible. Beside him a rather utilitarian saber lay on a towel in its scabbard. Its proportions fit reasonably for the rather petite scion, yet the blade was even lighter than it looked.

The teenager himself was currently engrossed in his phone, playing a card game he recently picked up. He secured a strong early lead and managed to stonewall his opponent temporarily, so he stood up and brushed a lock of navy hair out of his face before looking around. The unmistakable identical (the former largely because of the latter) figures of the Castellane twins caught his eye, so he beckoned one of the guards hired by his family with one of his hands. These guards were nowhere near as numerous or discreet as some of the other entourages at the event but this discrepancy matched their concerns: Lucas was wary for his family's safety in the wake of the recent tragedies involving the church, but didn't personally know of anybody targeting them yet. As the guard was approaching, he picked up the sword and scabbard with his off hand to hold the phone in his dominant one.

"Hey I'm going to wander off that way," Camille pointed in the general direction of the twins, "Dad said to tell someone if I was going somewhere."

The guard nodded and mumbled something into his radio, flashing Lacroix a thumbs-up when his radio responded.

"Sweet, thanks," he offered a smile to the guard and ambled to his destination, occasionally stopping to tap at his phone.

Eventually he did make it to the Castellanes, his match on his device completed and the phone stuffed into a pocket. He heard nothing from the two for the last several days, something unheard of in two counts, both on their infamous tendency to party and generally make waves as well as the amount of gossip that travels in his peers. He elected not to pry; they would likely tell him if it was not as serious as it seemed, and if it was that bad, it was not his business anyway.

"Decided to come back and grace us plebeians with your presence?" Camille smirked and sat beside the two on the bench.
 
as written by Script

Both twins turned to face Cam as he approached, flashing matching smiles of greeting. "Well, you know, we can't starve our adoring public of us for too long," Al answered, spreading his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "A little time out of the limelight is good for the complexion, though, you know."

Val nodded his agreement, smiling a knowing smile. "Besides, building up some dramatic tension by way of our absence will have made our match all the more exciting." He paused, recalling that it hadn't just been Inarin that the pair of them had stood up earlier in the week. "Sorry about Wednesday, by the way," he added, smile slipping for a moment as he hesitated. "Something ... came up, last minute. So we couldn't make it."

"We'll make it up to you tonight," Al noted, grinning. "The party's still on, if you're still interested." His eyes wandered to the Lacroix guards. "And if you can convince your handlers to let you come."

They'd decided not to cancel the weekend's party in the wake of their encounter with Nox. For one thing, it would be a social disaster. More importantly, though, it was at their home. If they were safe anywhere, it was there, right? With their normal guards, their new guards, and a church protection detail? Even a Caer would have to think twice about gatecrashing that. Right?
 
as written by glmstr

"Oh of course, and your complexion failing now would cost the brand millions in lost modeling contracts, I bet," Camille returned a smirk to pair with his joke. He was curious why the two didn't pursue the field more, both due to their looks and their astounding vanity and egos.

"That sounds rather like propositioning, that or I'm just going mad. Either way I'd still love to come to your party, I doubt it'll be very hard to convince them." In reality his parents relished the opportunity to push their son into the social world, to ensure he could blossom both in heart and mind.

"Who are you inviting this time around? I heard the last one you guys threw had some serious hangups, so I'm guessing the list will be a little more restricted?"
While he was curious about who would be arriving, he only really hoped that the Arodrings and their lackeys were not included. If they saw him and the twins, possibly the Nuvellon boy as well, all attending the same party and associating with one another, all sorts of vicious rumors might spring up. Rumors that could end careers, and similar such political pettiness that the Arodrings often stooped to, and Camille suspected they did such to try and reassert their relevance in the face of the other elite families.

Any such rumors would need to be silenced with blood.

Lacroix's eye was caught by someone wearing their fencing gear and walking by. "On another note, do you know who's up first for the fencing, by the way?"
 
as written by Script

"Well, I figured Val's already seducing a proselyte, so I didn't want to be left out..." Al remarked, failing at suppressing a snort of laughter as Val elbowed him in the ribs.

"You know better than that, Al. If I was seducing him... well, we'd be talking about it in the past tense, for one." He grinned, tilting his head back to make eye contact with his brother. "You insult me to suggest I'd take so long about it."

"So what are you doing, hm?" Al raised an eyebrow. "Courting him?"

That seemed to give Val pause, and he opted not to answer, simply shrugging noncommittally and turning back to Cam. "The last party technically wasn't ours. It was Arien's, we just helped with the logistics."

"But you needn't worry, either way," Al cut in, leaning back onto Val's shoulders and casually wrapping his arms around him, a grin plastered on his face from the dodged question - though he opted not to push it in company. "This one's at our place, not a warehouse. Hence the guest list is a lot more exclusive."

"Why? Was there someone in particular you wanted to bring along?" Val winked. "Competition for Al, maybe?"

"I hope so. The game's always more fun with extra players." Al said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"As for who's up first, that would be us." Val noted as an afterthought. "So I hope you're prepared for a hard act to follow."
 
as written by glmstr

"Not particularly, no," Camille offered a shrug, "if anything there's just people I want to keep out. You know how it is," but then Al had to suggest 'extra players'. His response was a half-measured "No comment," largely as a refusal to walk into whatever verbal trap he may have laid.

Then again, there's going to be copious amounts of alcohol at such a party so he should expect at least something scandalous to occur. He simply accepted that possibility, if all else fails he could later dismiss it as the antics of drunken youngsters.

"If all goes well, I won't follow up well in terms of entertainment. That Alphonse from last year is against me, and I'd like to make his defeat nice and embarrassing if possible. He probably thinks he can win since Perri's too old to thrash him again, so now I've gotta put him in his place," he folded his hands together and sat his chin on them.
 
as written by Script

Al wrinkled his nose. "Oh, Phonsey." His tone was dripping with disdain. "A dark mark against Als everywhere. Snooty, pompous, and worst of all, boring." He rolled his eyes, miming a gag. "Have you ever tried to have a conversation with him? All he talks about is sailing. How boring a hobby is that? I don't think he even knows what fun is."

"And not in the 'let's have fun showing him way', either," Val added. "We tried that, once, before we knew how awful he was. He tried to report us to your father for inappropriate conduct."

Al snorted, shaking his head at the memory. "We hadn't even laid a finger on him. All it took were a couple of innuendos and winks and he acted like I'd shoved a vibrator down his tighty whities."

"Not that you've done that to anyone before," Val remarked innocently, almost managing to suppress his smirk.

"Not that I've done that to anyone before," Al agreed, clearing his throat and straightening.
 
as written by glmstr

"Unfortunately I have had to speak to him before, I wish I hadn't," Camile rolled his eyes. "Though to be fair you two were being rather crude, although that shouldn't have been a surprise." During that 'incident' his father offered a slap on the wrists and a request to tone it down, but from the start the Castellane family was a more valuable client, both from the number of patrons and their familiarity, the latter largely due to their sons interacting.

Then Al fired another statement, somehow making each one more suggestive than the last.

"I, I didn't need to know that," he blushed, though largely out of a sort of embarrassment by proxy. Have they no shame?
 
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