07-04-2024, 11:04 PM
The party was in full swing when Seven arrived. even's attire was a masterclass in avant-garde fashion. He wore a tailored asymmetrical jacket in deep emerald green, the fabric catching the light in a way that suggested opulence without screaming for attention. Beneath the jacket, he sported a loose, silk shirt in a muted gold, the fabric flowing and shimmering with his every movement. His trousers were slim, black denim, artfully distressed to reveal hints of metallic thread woven through, catching the light around his hips in unexpected ways.
Seven strode up to the door, his movements smooth and assured. He glanced at the MY NAME IS stickers and the sharpie marker. As Seven was his masqueraded name, he went ahead and penned it down. The invite had come from one of his many underworld connections, a discreet but influential broker who trafficked in information and exclusive opportunities. When the broker mentioned a masked housewarming party at Nox’s new abode, Seven knew it was an event he couldn’t miss.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. Masked individuals moved through the dimly lit space, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of high-end cologne mingling with the tang of alcohol. Seven moved through the crowd with the ease of someone who belonged. Like the others, he also wore a mask; it was a striking horse's visage. The mask was in the shape of a stallion, symbolic as much as it was artistic. The eyes of the mask were large and expressive, revealing Seven's sharp, calculating gaze behind them. The mane was suggested by fine, flowing lines etched into the rubber, adding a touch of wild elegance to his look.
As he mingled with party goers, he scanned the name-tags he passed along the way.
Seven strode up to the door, his movements smooth and assured. He glanced at the MY NAME IS stickers and the sharpie marker. As Seven was his masqueraded name, he went ahead and penned it down. The invite had come from one of his many underworld connections, a discreet but influential broker who trafficked in information and exclusive opportunities. When the broker mentioned a masked housewarming party at Nox’s new abode, Seven knew it was an event he couldn’t miss.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. Masked individuals moved through the dimly lit space, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of high-end cologne mingling with the tang of alcohol. Seven moved through the crowd with the ease of someone who belonged. Like the others, he also wore a mask; it was a striking horse's visage. The mask was in the shape of a stallion, symbolic as much as it was artistic. The eyes of the mask were large and expressive, revealing Seven's sharp, calculating gaze behind them. The mane was suggested by fine, flowing lines etched into the rubber, adding a touch of wild elegance to his look.
As he mingled with party goers, he scanned the name-tags he passed along the way.