Thread: Attraction Is A Treacherous Game [MisterKingXSeraphina]

If Tirel Ebon had a favorite pastime, it would have to be hunting. Actual opportunities for him to hunt were rare, since his family had no grounds and few of their friends did, either, but the idea of bringing the titanic wildlife of the North to its knees holds a certain romance to those born to be insignificant. Although he didn't know it, this romance haunted the back of his mind as he prepared for the evening. There was only a single trunk lying before him but Tirel had packed a spread of clothing, confident in his ability to put together something for anything. The Baron stood over the array of clothing articles, small fangs biting into his lip as he solved this problem. Black wouldn't work they should notice him, not what he wore. Red would have the same problem, except it would draw out his rich, crimson skin. Tonight he wasn't a foreign devil, but another socializing patrician who just happened to be more charming then the rest. Dark blue, though, that could work. Tirel slipped it on, pleased at how the gossamer fabric felt and breathed on his skin. He hated being down South turns out having a naturally high body heat to cope with his brutally cold homeland made travelling to less harsh climates rather unfriendly, ironically enough. When he could, Tirel turned to lighter, finer clothes during his stays to compensate, which in turn gave him a more urbane, debonair quality when rubbing elbows. He did his best to ensure that quality turned into a benefit, rather than a hindrance when mingling with the established. Fully dressed, the Baron draped a jacket over his shoulders on his way to the palace. The Northern Kingdoms were an infamously ... unstable region, where all who sought a crown paid their lives for it, whether before or after they laid hands on one. The royal turnover was full of opportunities for the less to grab what they could. It was lucky that Tirel was as vain as he was, even for a devil, so while the coffers and relics were plundered the young Baron helped himself to the vestures of those too hopeful for their own good. The jacket he wore, though, was the one exception. His favorite piece by far, it happened to have been purchased from the clothier behind much of the rest of his wardrobe, and a custom order as well. It wasn't a light shell or easily breathable the jacket was meant to last, to survive, to hunt in. It hadn't seen much wear and tear, of course, but the tough, tailored hide offered a comfort no exotic gossamer could provide as the aspiring noble was ushered through the door. It was just the sort of thing one should wear when confronting game larger and stronger than yourself. Tirel was very familiar with being on the bottom of any given ladder. He liked to look at it differently, however. When you have nothing, you have no enemies and you can approach anyone as long as you have a nice enough smile. Case in point, this gaggle of local minor nobility they seemed like a good place to start tonight. Tirel weaved his way through the bodies to them, meticulously arranging his hair in a carefree style as he turned on the charm. That's the thing about being an inconsequential noble in an unstable aristocracy you've got to be to be well aware of when you're accidentally handed just enough rope to hang someone with.