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Post by Mercutio on Aug 21, 2008 23:45:48 GMT -5
Mercutio leaned against a handy wall, his expression flat, his clothing impeccable. This was a party. Supposedly. There were no masks, the music was bloody boring and incredibly civilized, and with everyone drifting past like giant iced cakes in pale frosty colors Mercutio was beginning to feel like the odd one out. His fiery-colored waistcoat stuck out like...well, like a fiery-colored waistcoat in a crowd full of pale-skinned, pale-dressed, jewel-encrusted and wig-bedecked wanna-be aristocrats. He wasn't even looking for a fun girl for the night- he'd had eyes made at him, from simpering wigged gels over the top of their fans, but all that make-up had to be concealing something.
He was there as a representative from Verona, which told anybody who inquired in one fell swoop exactly how important this function was- read: not at all. Had the Prince actually cared, he'd have sent another relative, a more important one. Considering Mercutio had already drunk nearly all of a nearby servant's tray, dropped a suspicious-looking prawn down the front of a lady's dress, and brushed off the advances of some no doubt minorly significant people, he was beginning to wonder if the Prince had actually thought this through in any way at all. It'd probably only been his luck to have been in Paris at the same time as this party.
...Yes. What sterling luck.
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 21, 2008 23:58:25 GMT -5
*At the same party, Tybalt lost himself in the slow whirl of the dance floor. Going from partner to partner, he neither seemed to care or notice who he danced with, though his movements had a sort of primal grace. His customary dark clothing had the opposite effect of Mercutio's bright red- he would have faded into the background, if it weren't for the intensity of his face and the way he carried himself. If one were to look at him, they would find it difficult to look away from that stern, brooding face.*
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 22, 2008 0:18:59 GMT -5
Mercutio, when he eventually spotted the Capulet in the crowd, certainly found it hard to look away. Not necessarily because of the man's stern expression- no, Mercutio was used to that. He'd rarely seen any other expression on Tybalt's face, except perhaps a snarl.
No, he found it hard to look away because the last time he'd seen the Capulet it'd been drenched, in the river Seine. He wondered, absently, how Tybalt would react if he were to spot Mercutio now. Would he avoid him? Would he sneer and keep dancing? Or would he fly over to where Mercutio was and use that pretty decorative dagger hanging by his belt?
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 22, 2008 0:28:53 GMT -5
*Tybalt caught sight of Mercutio easily- how could one miss such fiery red hair when it was coupled with an equally flaming jacket?
He met his eyes with a steely look of intense hatred that was gone as soon as it had come. He continued the dance, hoping in vain that he wouldn't take it upon himself to ruin his night.*
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 22, 2008 0:31:46 GMT -5
Tybalt hoped in vain. Marcutio got what he wanted- Tybalt met his eyes, gave him a fierce look of loathing, then went back to the dance.
As if that were his cue, Mecutio glided forwards, cutting into the dancers effortlessly. He went along with the formal dance, finding himself a partner and planning carefully until, a few whirls later, Tybalt found himself face-to-face with a wickedly grinning Mercutio.
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 22, 2008 0:46:19 GMT -5
"Mercutio," *he said, his voice far too cool and even. It wasn't a question, or a greeting, or a statement. It sounded almost like a challenge.*
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 22, 2008 0:53:21 GMT -5
No heat in his voice. Mercutio was somewhat disappointed.
"Tybalt," he said, in return, in a voice nearly as even. His sounded considerably less cool, however, and more bleakly disappointed. A hint of a sigh hung about his words. Ah, well. He could still make this interesting. He came away, one leg behind the other in a bent-knee dip, then came back, one hand up with palm extended flat to place against Tybalt's. Around them, the rest of the dancers did the same. "You're not dancing. I'm a little insulted."
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 22, 2008 0:59:55 GMT -5
"Perhaps that was my intention," *he said coldly.*
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 22, 2008 1:03:52 GMT -5
"Oh?" Mercutio glanced around them, one eyebrow arched. "But look, you're garnering attention. Who is that strange, serious young man?, people are asking. Why is he on the dancefloor if he doesn't intend to dance?, they are saying. And most importantly, they whisper, behind their fluttering fans, how will the other young man bear the shame of it?" His eyes came back to Tybalt, the eyebrow still arched, giving him an inquisitive, mock-serious, impish look. "I know how you adore attention, Tybalt, but please, leave me out of it. I blush easily."
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 22, 2008 1:09:31 GMT -5
"Tell me, jester, do you live only to vex me?" *he asked, starting up the dance again, glaring daggers at Mercutio's smug expression.*
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 22, 2008 1:13:39 GMT -5
"Of course not, Tybalt," Mercutio replied smoothly, indeed looking incredibly smug as their palms came together- lightly, without noise. A clap would have been too loud for this sort of party. Siiiigh. "I'm honored that you'd think so."
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 22, 2008 1:25:14 GMT -5
*He found himself wanting very much to wipe the smug grin off of his face. Or at the very least, get him to shut his mouth for five minutes. He made a sort of noncommittal noise and continued the dance, not looking at his partner at all.*
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 22, 2008 1:32:59 GMT -5
There was a faint frown on Mercutio's face as they continued with the dance. Gradually that faded, into the same flat, bored expression he'd been wearing before he approached Tybalt. He moved gracefully but mechanically, turning and coming back to the Capulet, the tension of anticipation gone from his shoulders. Tybalt was avoiding his eyes now, and so Mercutio made no attempt to recapture them.
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 22, 2008 1:36:57 GMT -5
*He didn't dare hope that Mercutio had given up being infuriating for the evening- that would be asking too much. But he was grateful, though, that he'd decided to let him be for the time being. *
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 22, 2008 1:44:07 GMT -5
This was boring. Baiting Tybalt was supposed to be more fun. Seconds before they were to switch partners, Mercutio decided to try again.
"Tell me, then," he said, with what to Tybalt would have seemed like unexpected interest. "What is it about this Juliet girl? I've never understood it. I've seen the gel. Pretty enough, young enough, with large doe eyes and a slim waist. But wherever she walks men swoon behind her, waxing poetic about the luster of her hair or the pale-moon pertness of her breasts. So tell me, Tybalt, teach me, tutor me, for I must admit the subject confuses me; surely one girl's like any other?"
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