Chapter Text
♡ Me And My Drunk Dear
From a shuffled playlist consisting of music from the 40s to the 90s, Frank Sinatra plays on the speakers in the mansion, soothing the excitement that puts the air in a chokehold, slowing those who danced with the beat of a lively rhythm into something gentler and calmer. If looking toward those who danced in pairs, you would see the likes of Gabby and Ellie, Tess and Ally, or Fiore and Alec.
Of course, many more were on the marble floors, dancing under the golden, shimmering light that graced everything like a heavenly presence. It was gorgeous, white and gold blending like the sky had turned a honey yellow, dappled with fluffy clouds. The main hall consisted of round tables that allowed guests to be seated, likely after packing a plate with enough food to feed several families, or to talk with the friends they've made.
The main hall had two stairways that flanked a stage, effortless and with the appearance of almost porcelain. These steps would lead to a second flooring, surprisingly. The second story consists of lounge-like areas, where the screaming and cheering of dancing people would not belong. Instead, people would be seen here, sitting and having comfortable conversations.
This level introduces several rooms, including restrooms, and many bedrooms. One could get lost in this maze of people, or they could try and find the balcony. Too bad it was likely suffocating, with many hoping to escape the groups.
Amongst the dazzling atmosphere and crowd of people situated into this almost ballroom that are enough to give an introvert a panic attack, there sat a woman known as Nura Sahal. And Nura Sahal was alone.
Nura is seated on cushioned chairs cleaner than the ones she's seen back on the island, waiting at a round table that has an admittedly pretty white cover draped over it. The edges were embroidered with small silver. Her hands, with several, similarly colored and shiny rings adorning her fingers, were laced together. Nura's nails are painted black, as they usually are. As for her attire, she had been wearing an off-shoulder black dress. Her sleeves, long and mostly made of a similarly dark mesh with floral patterns, had ruffles right where it meets her wrist. Her make-up was rather simple, batwing eyeliner with elderberry purple eyeshadow and lipstick.
She was dressed so simply, yet nicely. For what? Nura still holds admitted reluctance toward this decision.
It was because she's at a party.
Nura? At a party? Shocker. A once in a blue moon opportunity, even.
Nura was barely considered someone who enjoys going outside either way, despite her intrigue in nature, and deciding to sign up onto Disventure Camp. So it's not a surprise when parties were not up her alley. It's not like she'd find them completely boring, it's just the fact that she wasn't exactly social as the norm expects. Realistic and considered a killjoy, Nura Sahal was not one for parties.
Though, another thing about Nura is that she cares deeply for her friends, and spending time with them just makes it all feel a little less heavy. Lightweight and soothing to her shoulders, usually tense with eternal exhaustion.
It's likely why she let herself be dragged into this situation.
Nura and her cast of friends, Ren, Dunia, and Oliwia, were few of the many people that were invited to a manor. Specifically, a mansion that holds a party, celebrating the five seasons of Disventure Camp, hosted by the now-married couple that was Trevor Johnson and Derek Johnson themselves.
Thoughts are shaken out of her head like how an unidentified person shakes her shoulders, had been trying to get the moody woman's attention for the past few minutes. Nura blinks, an irritated gaze trailing up to the perpetrator. This was only for her gaze to soften as the playful ex-carnie, Ren, beams at her, their pearly teeth on full display.
Ren was wearing a white suit with golden embroidery, reminding her of the modern surroundings that made up the interior of the mansion. The tail coats of his suit were comically long, near touching the floor as they curl up at the very ends. Nura notices a brooch on the suit, designed to look like a white lily.
She'd have to ask about the brooch later. It looked pretty.
“Nurrraa, you're zoning out again.“ Her voice is sing-songly to the woman that had been distracted. Ren's head tilted to the side, tone less teasing, but enough to break in with humor and genuine curiosity. It made Nura's heart itch.
“I don't know if this is your idea of living a little,” Ren motions to Nura, whose normally lidded-eyes stay stagnant, trained on her companion. “But I can't just let you sulk all day, ya know? Dunia's been looking for you!”
Dunia. The name sparks a light that was barely brighter than the fluorescents overhead, and it flutters in her chest like rhythmic wingbeats. A smile, at last, twitches onto her lips.
“..Fine. I'll come with you, just don't nag me the whole time.”
“No promises!” Ren’s grin is immovable, hand extending to wrap around Nura's own and pulling her to stand.
And then the duo is weaving through the crowd, with Ren spilling a quick, passing apology to Fiore after lightly bumping into her. Nura notices scornful glares coming from the demon child and her father. Notably, both were wearing suits.
Nura stumbles a few good steps as Ren moves faster, as smooth as a slippery eel. Finally, the pair arrives to their destination.
Dunia and Oliwia were waiting for the two, talking, humouring whatever topic they discussed. It seemed to fall deaf on Nura's ears for a few moments as she took in their outfits.
Dunia wore an sleeveless ivory dress that cascaded to the floor, a slit runs up the side, reaching just halfway of her thigh. Instead of a normal feathered boa, the witch wore one made of several variants of flowers. She'd identify some as tulips, sunflowers, and a few white lilies. To accommodate her arms, she had long, white gloves. Dunia had simple, pale heels.
Meanwhile, Oliwia had a purple dress that had white accents, swirling from the hem of the dress to almost her waist. As Nura would look, it felt closer to the patterns of vines and foliage, wrapping like a snake around the layered fabric. She wore a white choker, and had pearl bracelets accessorize her arms. Less fancily, Oliwia had white platform boots, and if looking closer, they had lavender paw-prints along them.
Nura stared toward her two friends, though mostly Dunia. She was intrigued by the pattern of lilies, and it left a lingering thought on whether it was a concept all of them had, to match in their own ways.
“Hey,” She managed, as Oliwia and Dunia return the hello with smiles and waves.
“I'm glad you're still here with us, Nura.” Ren teased, cat-like smile classic and plastered on its features.
“Oh, leave her be, Cheshire!” Dunia laughed whole-heartedly, shaking her head out of feigned disappointment in regards of the comment. Ren smirks and says something, then Oliwia ropes her into a seperate conversation. Dunia looks back to Nura. “How's my favorite familiar doing?”
Nura blinks, looking toward the slightly taller woman. “..Fine–I'm doing fine.” She responds, the corners of her lips twitching upward. “This party isn't.. horrible, I guess.” She admits, instinctively rubbing the back of her neck as Dunia observes her gaze.
“Well, I'm glad you're comfortable, Nura.” Dunia reassures, her voice enough to scrub at least a portion of her complaints away.
Conversations between Nura and her three friends slowly dissipate later on, with Oliwia hurrying to find Aubrey, with Ren right behind. Sam had strolled over, giving kind greeting to Nura and striking small talk to Dunia, where they go on to talk about their shared interest–cats.
Though, Nura, against popular belief, preferred dogs.
Nura had kept quiet as Dunia and Sam talked, slinking away toward a long table that had a drape over it. Instead of being empty, awaiting for people to sit and eat or talk shit, it was covered in various foods of different categories. Meat like steak and chicken, seafood like shrimp or lobster, and a few other foods like rice and various vegetables. There was a whole little section for fruit, as well.
And almost like a blessing, there was an array of drinks as well to pair with the food of choosing. Maybe the money was blown on the food, as there was only wine. Though, sodas and juice were there to allow past contestants that can't legally drink have beverages.
Nura quickly got to work on setting her plate, grabbing steak, brussel sprouts that smelled like honey, and rice. She was aiming to try and get herself a bowl of fruit to snack on later as well, so the woman scoots over, avoiding any other people that were simply trying to get alcohol or food.
She reached the array of fruit, grabbing one of the provided small bowls. She'd snagged a few cubes of cantaloupe and slices of kiwi.
However, when she tried to reach the ladle that guests were provided with to scoop up some grapefruit, her hand brushes with someone else's.Their hand, nonetheless adorned with rings, was gloved, the fabric a light shade of green. The sleeve that covers the arm attached to this hand was an off-white, something unique from the pure white of quite a few of the outfits worn by the attending people. Instead of taking the time to just stare at their arm all day, she flicked her gaze up to whoever this person was.
And then she was met with the very woman she had conflicting, complicated feelings about. Her raven-colored hair, reaching past her shoulders, had a headband strewn with similarly green flowers, makeup of course matching the trend of soft, cool-colored accents. What slightly surprised her was the fact that she wore a suit, the white collar under the buttoned blazer had actually been a pure white, with a stark, emerald green tie.
Nura was face-to-face with Ara Kwon.
Neither said anything for a few moments, but it allowed Nura to notice a few things.
Ara’s hair was a bit messy, like she had tried to fix it while having the unfortunate luck of not having access to a brush. Her eyes do indeed sharpen, narrowing at the girl. Yet, it felt less like malice or anything of the sort. It was closer to the sense of recognition failing her. Maybe Ara was disoriented.
“..Nura.” The korean woman muttered, gaze flitting over Nura’s form. She made no move to shift away, staying still for a good few moments. Looking to Ara’s other hand, was an empty wine glass. A faint lipstick stain was around the rim, and it looked as if someone had just drank from it a few minutes ago.
Nura never thought she'd see the day where Ara Kwon is buzzed from alcohol.