Another night, another hosted party for the benefit of the rich.
It's not like Brock was exactly a social creature. He didn't enjoy having people in flocks around him because it delighted him to be in company with other people. Oh no. He enjoyed them lavishing him with praises of course — but that's about as far as his need for socializing went. Still, it always went well for him to keep up appearances amongst the socialites of Stronghold. Gain their adoration and support, so that he could continue playing both sides of the law without anyone batting an eye.
Tonight was no different. A dinner event held in his lavish penthouse, complete with wait staff and a whole host of chefs that would see to the whole thing being a raving success. Being the man of the hour, Brock made sure to make his way throughout the place, talking to anyone and everyone he could — even if it was merely a 'thank you for coming' speech. He recognized most faces — people from the Military, civilians with old money, and even a couple of research scientists from Cypher sprinkled into the mix. This even was meant to be for his daytime life, which meant there were no Jabberwockies wandering about. No, he'd have a special event for them later no doubt. Although he didn't consider gangsters fun party-goers to begin with. Too much violence after a couple drinks.
Brock takes a break, approaching the bar for another drink — a custom-made bar in one of his many lounges, stocked to high heavens with all assortments of drinks. As the man waits for his drink, a scotch on the rocks, his eyes spot another familiar face in the crowd, one he had yet to greet. Grabbing his drink as soon as it's ready, the man makes his way over to the woman with a grin on his face.
"Well, if it isn't Ms. Seryna Constantine! Then again, I shouldn't be surprised to see you here," Brock greets the woman, stopping just short of invading her personal space. "Thank you for coming to the party, it's always nice to see another civilian face in the mix," he continues with a laugh, a small quirk of one of his brows as he glances around the room at all the Military personnel. Sometimes they could be a bit stifling.
Another day turns into night, and once more she has to pretend to be something she was not. Or at least she believed herself not to be.
Seryna put one too many personas that it was already becoming difficult to figure out who she truly was.
During the day she was Seryna Constantine, philanthropist, and benefactress of many, if not all of the orphanages within the Stronghold. At the turn of the day, within the Silverlight Opera House, she was Morticia Frost, soprano, and the belle of the stage. And then, there was this other version of herself, Seryna the social butterfly, a pretend human who truly had no business being in these posh parties.
Although it never does show in her face, she felt awkward to be in a lavish penthouse surrounded by too many humans. It was a challenge to socialize and even appear unbothered as she was continuously flooded by the sound of numerous pulses and the scent of blood beneath thin yet warm skin. Her only consolation was that she wasn't the only one suffering, somewhere in the area was Augustine, supposedly her escort but was likely shagging someone else's wife at the moment.
She was contemplating leaving early when she heard him approach. Yet as he came to greet her, she put on a pristine surprised gleeful facade. "Mr. O'King, you truly shouldn't be surprised. After all, it is you who have invited me to come," she did her best to project warmth into her smile. Above everyone else in this party, Brock O'King smelled the most of blood, and thus it was challenging for her to keep a straight face around him. Strangely, to her sensitive nostrils, it was almost like he bathed in blood yet it obviously wasn't his own. And it eerily smelled inhuman.
"Well, Mr. O'King, it might be a bit stifling but this is your crowd, after all this is what your business is about." She veiled the sarcasm in her tone with a serene smile. Although it only came to her as nightmares and sometimes in bits and pieces, she knew that she had one violent past. And as such, it had made her turn away from anything of that sort.
Yet here was Brock O'King, the living embodiment of it all. "I would have to say regardless of the crowd though, the place and the food are both marvelous," she lied as she never really did touch the food.
"I am quite curious though, Mr. O'King, had you made any new friends lately? Surely there's some other civilian who is graced by your friendship?" She quirked her brow inquisitively. Though it was probably faux pas to appear so invested in someone else's private life, the fact that he smelled of something else's blood made her forget etiquette and reservations. TagBrock O'King
Posted 10-09-2021, 10:38 PMThis post was last modified: 10-09-2021, 10:40 PM by Seryna Constantine
"Indeed, I did. Still, it's always a pleasant surprise to see you come to events like this," Brock muses in response to Seryna's comment about him being the one to invite her. Just because he had a habit of inviting everyone on his contacts list when hosting an event, it didn't mean that everyone always showed up. After all, Brock had a nasty little habit of inviting even his enemies, just to rub it a bit in their faces. But if they showed up — even better! Every good party ended with a fist fight, or at least, that's how Brock felt about such things.
He grins at her comment about his crowd, not offering a verbal confirmation of anything but simply nodding in agreement. True, this was his lifestyle, but that didn't mean that he had to enjoy such things all the time. Interacting socially with people such of this could get dreadfully boring at times, but it's what kept money flowing into his pockets. He lets out a soft 'Ah' at her complimenting the party, raising the glass in his hand as a mock sort of toast as he matches her smile with a grin of his own — though hers was much more delicate than his.
"I am glad to hear that—" he really was, it did wonders to stroke his massive ego— "after all, it's only the best for my guests! Much like the firearms I sell," he ends his remark with a wink and a grin. He knows that Seryna isn't the type to be buying from him. Hell, he doubted she ever provided him with any kind of business. But that didn't mean that she wasn't important in other ways. While Brock hardly cared to delve into the lives of other rich people that lived in the Inner Citadel, he was certain one day she'd know a friend of a friend that was looking to acquire some firearms for whatever reason — legal or not — and his name would be on the tip of her tongue.
Brock raises a brow at the woman's next question, curious as to how his social life was getting along. He's silent for a couple seconds before he suddenly throws back his head and barks out laughter, a fully belly laugh that rumbles in his chest.
"Oh, my dear, you are too kind to insinuate I am here to make friends," he responds to her comment with a gleeful smile, one that was pure contrast to the meaning of his words. "I dare say I make more enemies on the regular than I do friends. One does not get into my line of business thinking that they'll be gaining friendships. No, for someone like me, you must have thick skin." He's not really curious as to why she was prying into his private life. It was the norm of people like them.
"Has my presence begun to bore you? Do you inquire because you hope to pawn me off on someone else?" he questions with a laugh, a devilish glint in his eyes as he teases Seryna.
It still felt challenging for her to pretend pleasantries. She also found it hard to accept this display of extreme excessiveness of the opulent built on top of the shoulders of those who were suffering. Although their situation was dire, it was easier to get along with people in the slums than that of those within the Inner Citadel. The people outside, scraping by to survive each day, had no time for put on acts and thus were more honest to themselves and to others.
And right this very moment, Brock O'King was putting on an act. "Well, surely if not friends then perhaps a new aquaintance." she countered when he, in so many words, denied the possibility of having met someone.
By her estimate, the scent of blood clinging to him was quite fresh -- as if he had only recently washed it off. But more unsettling than the fact that he likely commited violence prior to this party, was that the scent was like that of her kind.
Ever since she regained awareness, she found she had the ability to recognize people afflicted with the same burden as her. It had been how she found the Winchester's club and how she got aquainted with them. And though Seryna didn't think it outside the realm of possibility that more of their kind existed within the Citadel, it was still strange for one to exist within the proximity of a man who lived off making weapons meant to kill them.
She laughed as she gently patted his arm, pretending to have found his words humurous although that was exactly what she had wanted him to do a few minutes earlier. "Oh Mr.O'King, that isn't what I meant." Seryna shook her head and then leaned a little closer. "It's not like an expert or anything, but you seem to be more spirited than the last time I saw you."
Smiling coyly, she cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered. "Call me romantic, but you have this glow about you, like you've met someone special." She hoped that would be enough to push him to speak his mind. Though she still didn't know what she'd do with the information if he ever did confirm being around someone of her kind, Seryna couldn't help but press on. TagBrock O'King
Seryna is so quick to play the role of the perfect guest. Laugh at the host's stupid jokes, play to his ego — make him feel big in his own house. It was all so perfect really, someone that was clearly born into this world and quickly adapted to the politics of the rich and famous. But it still didn't make Brock trust her any more. He didn't trust anyone, truth be told, and no matter how much she fanned the flames of his ego, he wouldn't trust her any more than some random person picked off the street.
But she didn't need to know that. He was loud and boisterous and clearly full of himself, which is exactly what he was unafraid of showing to others, but it was hid by a thinly veiled layer of charisma that was necessary for someone of his position. It was how he managed to keep a straight face, even as she touched him and laughed, quizzing him about the possibility of there being something — or someone — that could have put him in a better mood than usual. How astute of her.
He raises a brow at her, curious, his grin holding strong.
"Ms. Constantine, are you trying to get dirt on my dating life?" he grins, teasing her, a booming laugh that rolls through his chest. "If you are, I'm afraid there's nothing but bad news for you. I don't have anything like what you may be implying," he responds in a cheeky manner, although there is a slight edge to his words. As though daring her to try and push him.
His gaze travels across her face for a moment as he judges her, curious as to whether or not he should share the something that he did acquire as of late with her. Brock was a man with secrets — it was practically required in his line of work — but this wasn't something he was ashamed of. If anything, it would be a great toy to show off to others of his rank, to solidify his place in society as a true king amongst peasants.
"I have, however, acquired a rather interesting commodity."
Posted 10-04-2021, 05:36 PM
This Masquerade
