A Fresh Start (Closed, Thane/Andrea)

The searing sun beat down on the blacktop of the college campus, the meager shade provided by the trees lining the sidewalk doing little to block out the heat. The smell of hot asphalt, street vendors, and academia did little to improve the atmosphere, leading to quite a few grumpy co-eds on this, the first day back from summer break. A momentous day, for some more than others, made even more so by the Fresh Feast, a brilliantly named party for those joining this year at UCLA. The brain-child of the self-proclaimed “King” of the school, Thanatos Cirillo, it was advertised as a barbeque/social event meant to integrate freshman into the college environment (bankrolled by the Cirillo family, of course).

Of course, like everything he does, Thane had an ulterior motive; several, in this case.

First, it was the perfect time to introduce some of the younger girls, those who grew up in sheltered environments, about the … shadier aspects of college life. After all, it wasn’t all meet-cutes and Starbucks, physics lectures and cheerleading tryouts. This was the real world, two syllables a lot of young adults simply weren’t prepared to embrace. While all genders absolutely can be slapped in the face by reality, it tended to affect young woman at a disproportionate rate. And so Thane took it upon himself to educate them to the best of his knowledge. Of course, this being a man who views every interaction as a chess game, it’s never so simple as a lecture.

It’s a wonder what you can get a man to do with the promise of money.

Second, and tertiarily, it was the perfect time to do the inverse as well; that is, sniff out those agents of life that insisted on acting as the teaching tool. Some he orchestrated to expel; other’s he hired. Even other’s disappeared without a trace. Oddly enough, these were the ones with clean records, but a past that suggested shady records. Almost all had family in law enforcement and pending court cases for sexual allegations. When questioned, of course, Thane had nothing to do with it … that they could prove.

Quarternarily, it was absolutely a dominance play. Imagine, if you will; first day in a new town, scared, excited, but in that jittery way where your confidence is outweighed by your nervousness. Then in comes a dashing young man, offering food, guidance, support in these first long, frightening steps into adulthood (it doesn’t hurt that he’s intelligent and quite good-looking to boot.) This imaginary stranger serves good food, is humorous, a great conversationalist, and makes you feel comfortable and secure in your new home. You would, of course, feel incredibly endeared to this handsome stranger and be much more willing to do a favor, should he ask for it.

Or give your number, should this hypothetical stranger ask for it.

Needless to say, it was quite a popular concept for all students and, since faculty are invited, staff as well. The way it was arranged, new students would come in for orientation, have a couple hours to orient themselves, then come to what was likely to be the greatest party of the year. Despite the lack of alcohol (which was a total lie, just carefully disguised as such things are) even the real party animals of the school attended. It was almost a social faux paus not to go and liable to get a reputation for being high and mighty.

And here lies the secret fifth motive of this little party.

See, Thane liked a challenge, and what is more challenging than a self-titled “outsider” who, for some reason or another, would not go to a big, fun, but relatively safe and inviting party when no other responsibilities exist to complicate matters? Such a person likely would have walls like Troy and verbal artillery that would make Sparta jealous … which is exactly what Thane was hoping for. It is no fun fishing for the digits of a happy-go-lucky party girl. The one he really wanted was someone who thought parties was a huge waste of time and wouldn’t go regardless.

As students began to file into the courtyard, the sun beating down on them, his plan began to take perfect shape.

Finding an invitation slipped into her bag was not exactly the easiest way for someone to invite her, but Andrea supposed she would simply have to attend. After all, it was bad manners for nobility to fail to appear when asked, even if the asking itself was rather uncouth. In fact, she was obligated to go to said party just to ensure that whomever it was that slipped the invitation into her bag heard her displeasure.

Her ivory hair was tied into an elaborate ponytail, with glittery ribbons and a white lace hairpiece. Realizing she had nothing to wear, she created a faintly glowing white backless fairy princess dress, with a lacy long skirt that nearly reached the floor and an opaque top. Built within the lace was imagery of knights and dragons, telling a tale of an epic struggle between good and evil, akin to ancient depictions of thus. It wasn’t necessarily noticeable at a glance, but under careful inspection one could find Templars, Fairies, and even Princesses.

She created a pair of shiny high heels that would look as if they were made of high quality leather. She made her way out of the dorm and made her way to the party, when she arrived everyone in the room turned toward her. Suddenly feeling overdressed, she covered herself with one arm. There was no one dressed for what she assumed would be a formal party, and now she felt self conscious. She quickly made her way to the area where she saw people gathering for drinks and food.

“Pardon me,” Andrea said, affecting an English accent with only the barest hint of her native French. “Where is the host that I might speak to him?”

She made quite a splash at the party.

Held in the famous Rose Bowl Stadium, it was almost entirely unrecognizable, as if by some magic; on the field is where the party was taking place, thousands of students and faculty mingling (and some drinking, in secret). The green astroturf was replaced with a tapestry of flowers and real grass, pillars and archways creating a faux-temple in the style of Ancient Greece, vines clinging to the marble - and it seemed to be real marble, too, at least from summary glances. There seemed to be an informal “Greek” theme going on; lots of people in togas, a few dressed as minotaur or gods. But even more were just themselves, laughing and flirting and, in a few memorable cases, fondling each other near the punch bowl.

And yet despite this, she made a splash; her entrance rippled outwards, drawing people's attention to the princess in white. It was certainly something she was used to, of course, being the center of attention, but it had to feel odd, had to put her somewhat out of sorts. Or so were the thoughts of Thane as he watched from the stands, shrouded from the view of all but his most loyal compatriots milling around the stands. He wore a mask covering his eyes, the delicate carving and silver inlay belaying his true motives.

Her question was answered, though perhaps indirectly; his presence was not a secret, of course, though few had the courage to speak to the infamous Thanatos themselves. The head of the student turned to him, looking inquiringly, but Thane only smiled; of course she wanted to speak with the most important person at the party. A girl who looked like that, with the grades to match her beauty? She was used to being most important.

And Thane loved it.

He stood, brushing off the few that clung to him in a means to garner his attention, and purposefully set off down the stairs, eyes shrouded by the mask sparkling with intrigue. He had chosen a wolf mask; some would call it a cliche, he would simply call it a classic. Easily vaulting over the barrier between field and stand as if it weren’t there, it was not long before he approached the woman. In fact, it was entirely likely she had seen him first. He counted on it. His presence was certainly not hidden, nor was he trying to startle her.

Simply trying to impress on her that she were not the only one who could make an entrance.

”I see you got my note.”

An easy grin slid across his handsome features, exaggerated by the mask and the fine suit he wore; fine black silk cut with the sharpness of red velvet underneath. Matching gloves adorned his hands, currently pouring two cups of the many-flavored punch out of the crystal bowl; pieces of fruit floated on the surface, a hint to what flavors it may be.

”Though if you wish to talk …” He offered her the cup of punch, a smile playing about his lips that suggested this was a game to him. ”then we must dance. It is a party, after all, it would be rude not to.”

Whether she took the punch or not, his hand would remain outstretched, a clear offer on the table.