ORIGIN

All things considered, once Tourmaline figured out how to not look like an idiot, it wasn't that bad. And then someone came along and made everyone look like idiots, so that's not too bad either. Seems tonight is just a night to have fun, and if so, Tourmaline will make the most of it.

She's not going to worry about the white painting the walls of other caves. She's not going to think about insectoid creatures bowing to their deaths.

She is going to have FUN and enjoy her night. So Tourmaline sits on a plush seat, a tray of tastey morsels of meat set on the table next to her. She'd share if someone came by, sat in the seat opposite her, but until then... she takes a piece of cured thin-cut meat and lets it melt in her mouth.

Not all that bad, all things considered.

Dodging chunks of raining upchuck hadn't been a part of his prediction for this party. To be frank, a far more loose-lipped man than himself, the fact it'd happened at a fancy place like this instead of some hole in one of Orion's many crumbling walls proved more of a surprise than the magical makeover he'd been subjected to on entry here. Any semblance of dignity compared to the rest of the caves was stripped away in that moment, pretty interior decorating dirtied by the presence of a face familiar from afar. The host of the Deathmatches, the vomit spill turned out to be appropriate, a vulgar mess fitting the individual responsible for it.

Putting aside any displeasure a purveyor of senseless violence could cause and had in East's recent memory, some satisfaction could be found in the easy answer to what he'd assumed would be a much harder question. Unlike the ongoing mystery of the disembodied voice commentating over his shoulder, "who" could be recognized by simple sight and sound. Attempts at banter, trying to pry responses from a being intent on holding secrets close to their hidden chest, would likely have been unnecessary. If she'd stayed to shout, he might have gained every one in crass but honest detail.

The method of contact, how she'd known of him as more than a faceless spectator to her previous carnage-soaked event—these were what he was left to ponder. The loudmouth disappeared from the ballroom, he had no choice but to bide his time. Mingle and maybe suss out connections the assortment of guests might possess.

"Some shindig," East drawled, resting his hands atop the back of the cushioned seat opposite of Tourmaline. Though he followed this with a sigh, it was light, and humor gleamed in eyes. "Try to get a meal, and all I've managed to chew on have been elbows and shoulders."

Idly he spun the pencil gripped between a few fingers and leveled its point at the tray of meats. "Would you mind much? I'd test my luck again, but..." A glance was cast over to the crowded buffet table. "With that feeding frenzy? Might get a bite taken out of me instead."

She looks up to see East seating himself across from her - not that she'd recognize him with or without the glamour on all of the guests. She's no reason to not be polite, nodding to him and smiling. "Quite the show indeed. Seems it's just as wild as everything else in the caves," she laughs with him.

She's quick to pick up the plate and offer him some of the goodies stacked atop it. "I can see that. I had to be quick to grab this, and it's all I managed to run away with."

As she holds it up, she continues, asking, "Who would you be, if I may ask. My name is Tourmaline."

Mock it as superstition, approve of it as reasonable caution—whichever your choice of epithet for his particular game might be, the exchange of names always was an activity East approached from an angle of aloof amusement. While he'd yet to cross any willing to use identification as a means of threat or revenge, most inclined to attack based on instinct rather than ulterior motive, there was a certain power that lay in others knowing you. It brought knowledge of a reputation, acquaintances, and familiar haunts. An introduction eventually led to one's entire history being written out on their sleeve for any studious enough to read the inked lines. His he preferred to keep clean, untraceable and free of judgement.

If a moniker had to be provided, the falsest were the best: the likes of Barley, Navair, Nuwon, and West. Some might deem the act unnecessary and childish for a bird with all his feathers grown in; he would likely laugh a bit at the condemnation. If the world wished to lie, why not engage in a few white ones that could save his backside in the long run?

Would it hurt? Yes, but small sins healed faster than large wounds.

There was a wry twist to his lips at Tourmaline's agreement when it came to observation of the local feasting wildlife. Once he properly situated himself in the chair—absurdly plush compared to his usual stone perch—the pencil held was stowed away in the depths of one of his conjured coat pockets. Not wanting to keep her hand suspended in air too long, he cleared away a small selection of the meats upon the plate to fill his palm.

"There. That ought to leave you enough to count as sharing and not robbery," he said, flashing a smile.

A slice was plucked from his hand and dropped into his mouth. The feel of teeth instead of a hard beak gave him pause where ordinarily a swallow would follow. While avian habits wouldn't have hesitated, the current guise instructed he should chew or risk choking. He did and bought seconds of reflection.

Surely there'd be no harm, just this once, in disposing of the usual deception. The face he wore now, featherless and reeking of smoke, could be mask enough for the time being. Let it do the job it was intended for. Worry less and enjoy the free anonymity while it lasted.

"I go by East. My name, that is. Though," he remarked, a finger pressed to his chin and a thumb hooked beneath it, "I suppose I did travel that way to get here."

"Tourmaline sounds like a real jewel. I suppose you picked it out yourself."

As they often did, whether the meaning behind was understood or not.

She grins, chuckling at East's joke when he takes his share of food. Returning the plate to the table next to them, Tourmaline takes a piece herself. While she notices East's hesitation to swallow, she assumed it was simply him savoring the taste.

It was quite delicious, anyway.

"East. I'll be sure to remember that. Even if I won't recognize you should we meet again," she shrugs. "And whichever way gets you to your destination."

Tourmaline shifts in her seat, crossing her legs. Something about this glamour made her feel somewhat antsy."It just felt right. I'm not sure why, though. But I doubt we'll ever know for sure."

"I'll say."

Once the occasional disconnect courtesy of the differences between mammal and bird was put aside, East might as well as have slipped on a second mantle of feathers for how at ease he was in his current rental costume. Equipped for a time with a host of gestures usually outside of his range of motion, every instant seemed a chance to take advantage of them. A rock forward in his seat leaned an elbow upon the table, and after an emphatic nod, he rested his head upon the fist angled toward him. Eyes, half-lidded but attentive, continued to observe her.

"Yeah, those sorts of things always just seem to come to you, don't they? Like knowing how to talk. Almost as if it was planted there. A thought waters the seed, and it just... well." The fist opened up, fingers splaying, and he straightened up with a shrug. "Sprouts."

Another bite was had, the chewing less delayed than previous.

"Makes me wonder: if something can be placed in our heads, how easily can it be plucked out? I mean, I don't know how this whole special invite situation worked for you, but advertising myself isn't how I operate. Much less where I sleep. Only way one can tell is if they've access to this old thing here."

He tapped a finger against his temple.

"And I don't give keys away for free."

East earns a small chuckle as a reaction. She's not quite so animated as he is, perhaps because their new bodies is closer to her original one than his, and maybe also because she's not so worried about putting on a show.

She places one of her arms on the chair's armrest, leaning on her elbow. And as Tourmaline listens, she finds herself agreeing with what her conversation partner is saying. "...And your magic too. One day you think you know what you can do, and the next you get an idea, and just poof. Something you've never done before."

Not that she knows how familiar he is specifically with magic, but if he isn't, then maybe it's a welcome addition to his evidence.

Another piece of meat is taken and savored, as she listens to East's next point. Her expression is dark for a moment, thinking of horrible what-ifs, if the Order knows like whoever invited them here...

She shakes her head. Best to worry about that another time. "I don't really know how it works myself... I was with my friend, she'd come to my den to visit," she starts, talking about Arquia, "and we decided to walk around Polaris to talk. Then we stumbled across our invites, just set out in our path." Tourmaline pauses, before adding. "I'm not sure if she accepted, herself. If she has, I wouldn't be able to pick her out of this crowd."

There's a hum of acknowledgment at the mention of magic, low and considerate. Personally he'd never been one to dabble in the topic despite it possessing such interest to many others trapped here in this world of stone. The closest he ever came to tapping into what seemed to be the life force of the caves, that essential thing besides a beating heart and functioning brain, could be the eerily accurate sense he had of death's location wherever talons trod. How every corpse under piles of rubble and refuse was a tattered scrap of past belonging to a larger history, the entirety of which might never be able to be fully mapped out.

Pieces of a puzzle, likely the same one involving a book with an assigned narrator. Or hosts that brought Gembound together for unknown agendas and knew their every name.

At least a new detail had been plucked out of casual speculation: not all were strangers though faces and forms had changed. Random chance or enough similarities between friends to warrant inviting both? Not enough information yet to lean suspicions either way.

Much as East might like to regard himself as a charming sort, limits had to be reached. One-sided conversations with thin air, invisible spectators, and bones picked clean by scavengers left a man ill-prepared for the foreign realm of relationships requiring some measure of reciprocation. While he brushed his free hand back to rub, sympathetically wincing, against his neck, the action might have appeared awkward: the stiff caress could have been an attempt to knead the proper commiserating words he lacked into the brainstem.

"A right shame that." The comment was truthful; in a place like this, trusted connections held more value than any glittering rock or riches could offer. "Maybe once more bellies have had their fill, the hustle and bustle will peter out. Give you more space to find her if she's wandering about. I wouldn't bet my odds too much on a guessing game I haven't played, but usually if the looks can't tell you who, the mannerisms will."

She brings a hand to her scarf, adjusting it slightly, since sitting still bothered her slightly. While she was comfortable in her position on the nice seat, Tourmaline struggled to not shift around. Perhaps it was the energy in the room, that East had pointed out.

She does enjoy his company - he's quick and sharp, a fun conversation partner. Tourmaline might have to keep an eye for him after tonight, even if she doesn't know what to look for. Perhaps they'd be able to work together. On what, she doesn't know, but it seems like a fun prospect.

"You're not wrong. I know her well enough, I could probably figure something out," she shrugs, glancing back at the crowd around the tables. "She's pretty careful, for one thing. And if she didn't come, well, we know where to find each other. It won't be too long before I see her again." She's reasonably sure about this - Arquia was strong enough to not get into too much trouble. And while she would be sad she didn't get to spend this night with her, Tourmaline doesn't mind that she went elsewhere.

It mattered not that East was a darkly feathered sort meant more for swift and stealthy takedowns of prey than chirping displays of vanity. Hearing his blind attempt at expressing assurance actually hit the proper intended note caused a small measure of ego to set roots in his heart. As it grew and climbed up his throat, threatening to release a full bloom of foolish comments about how often he was prone to being correct, a few slices of meat taken from his palm blocked the path outside. He swallowed all potential for arrogance back, a self-satisfied smile and nod the only indications left of its existence.

"Careful's good," he observed. Sure, there was such a thing as having too much of that particular trait—when care morphed into rampant paranoia and every twitch noticed was ascribed more meaning than rightfully deserved—but someone could survive quite a while on that one alone. Perhaps not the happiest of lives, unlike those content to ignore the deeper workings of the world around them. However they'd have far better likelihood of safety thanks to their awareness.

"Well, if she's not here, maybe it's her good fortune. She gets to miss out on waiting for the food stampede to disperse. Though," emerged an afterthought as ears caught the gentle strain of the live orchestra flowing into another song, "I suppose the atmosphere's worth staying for. Kind of nice to have background noise that isn't me whistling random tunes into the wind."