[A celebration is taking place in an important noble's not-so-humble abode. It's a lavish party with all the stops pulled out; luxurious decorations, equally luxurious food and drink, and of course, the important company all around, dressed in all their finery. There are servers at the beck and call of the guests and although they do not outshine the party-goers, their uniforms are no less sharp, giving the air of professionalism as they represented the host's wealth. There is one particular server, a tall man who seems to have gained some attention from some female guests who giggle as he offers them another flute of chilled cider with a flourish and a smile. When he's done, he turns around and his pleasant smile is replaced by a thin line of grim contemplation. The dark-haired and dark-eyed man is murmuring to himself as he sidles off to a relatively empty hallway after setting down the silver tray and adjusting his gloves around his hands.]
... England.
[That's what this location is supposed to be, or at least it's some odd version of it from what Dominique Vargas could parse. He has been a long-time visitor of a certain witch's multi-nexus cafe that the idea of alternate worlds and timelines are not out of place. But being in one and having to figure out a way home is an entirely different matter and it's own weird story to be told another day. When Dom realized the situation he was in, he immediately got to work to integrate himself and be noticed as little as possible. A white lie there, a partial truth there, and a sprinkle of bribery to an indolent male laborer who was all too happy to give up his job as a server to pompous nobles when Dom offered to take his place after compensating him with a good amount of money. If one was to gather intel about something as broad and vast as the state and culture of the country and society as a whole, where better than around those at the top?
Dom snaps out of his reverie when a fellow server calls him out to help pass out some appetizers. Back to work then. He runs his hand through his hair and straightens his back to take over his duties.
Gracefully, he maneuvers his way through the flock of people, avoiding skirts and brushing past shoulders. He's doing two jobs at once; serving food and listening in on voices emitted through lips and through the mind.]
"I heard the baron is trying to invest in more Cavorite machinery...!"
"There are a lot of guards stationed here, I wonder why?"
"Spies..."
"Are there spies?"
"The princess..."
"There's a deal to be made and..."
"Oh, I'm tired. I want more wine."
"I can't believe I have to frolick with commoners!"
"There are DEFINITELY spies, haven't you heard of the other incidents and...??"
[It's a lively party. Mundanity mixed with intrigue in an alternate world where technology advanced in an entirely different trajectory. Dominique has to admit, if he weren't worried about himself, he'd simply love to sit down with a journal to write down his thoughts and observations.
A young woman is in his way, but Dominique simply raises his arm that holds the tray to dodge her.]
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Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin'
... England.
[That's what this location is supposed to be, or at least it's some odd version of it from what Dominique Vargas could parse. He has been a long-time visitor of a certain witch's multi-nexus cafe that the idea of alternate worlds and timelines are not out of place. But being in one and having to figure out a way home is an entirely different matter and it's own weird story to be told another day. When Dom realized the situation he was in, he immediately got to work to integrate himself and be noticed as little as possible. A white lie there, a partial truth there, and a sprinkle of bribery to an indolent male laborer who was all too happy to give up his job as a server to pompous nobles when Dom offered to take his place after compensating him with a good amount of money. If one was to gather intel about something as broad and vast as the state and culture of the country and society as a whole, where better than around those at the top?
Dom snaps out of his reverie when a fellow server calls him out to help pass out some appetizers. Back to work then. He runs his hand through his hair and straightens his back to take over his duties.
Gracefully, he maneuvers his way through the flock of people, avoiding skirts and brushing past shoulders. He's doing two jobs at once; serving food and listening in on voices emitted through lips and through the mind.]
"I heard the baron is trying to invest in more Cavorite machinery...!"
"There are a lot of guards stationed here, I wonder why?"
"Spies..."
"Are there spies?"
"The princess..."
"There's a deal to be made and..."
"Oh, I'm tired. I want more wine."
"I can't believe I have to frolick with commoners!"
"There are DEFINITELY spies, haven't you heard of the other incidents and...??"
[It's a lively party. Mundanity mixed with intrigue in an alternate world where technology advanced in an entirely different trajectory. Dominique has to admit, if he weren't worried about himself, he'd simply love to sit down with a journal to write down his thoughts and observations.
A young woman is in his way, but Dominique simply raises his arm that holds the tray to dodge her.]
Comin' through. Pardon my rudeness my lady.
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