When I was young, I didn't care much for social politics. I understood they were necessary to navigate the treacherous waters of society, but I never much liked playing by rules â€" needless to say, I didn't. The lack of care for social norms that I exhibited rarely made an outcast. Instead, fueled by some kind of vengeful independence and an indomitable will, I often rose to power and a role of authority whether I wanted it or not. Aloof and generally rife with a need to instigate chaos, I behaved well with power. Then again, maybe that was only my idea of my behavior because I'm sure others have differing opinions, especially if they were on the receiving end of my contrived chaos. The ability to calmly and effectively navigate social waters has stuck with me, I guess, rendering a large variety of faces in the crowd at Red on the Water familiar.

Instead of staying away from the party like my instincts had originally suggested, I'd prepared a costume with a little bit of goading from Serafina and a lot of encouragement from Isolt I'd taken the necessary action to become something I wasn't (would never be) and attend. The costume would surely amuse Damon, and low and behold I was right. When my friend's eyes swept over my costume, there was little he could do to keep the smirk from tugging the ever-upturned corners of his lips. Minutely satisfied, I'd given Alexis my attention back as I knew the young woman from countless encounters that only reminded me I was, in fact, still playing a socially political game. By protecting her, I'd emboldened my would-be-savior image, even if it was only in an attempt to get my rocks off by pulverizing whoever had been stalking her the first night we'd met. My attempts to foster conversation and entertainment were (fortunately...) derailed by a man whose eyes betrayed his body. What're you looking at, grandpa?

"Excuse me, Alexis â€" enjoy yourself."

While the young woman stepped into conversation and the arms of a man I had neither met nor did I care to meet, I was a little more intrigued with seeking the companionship of two vampires I never thought I'd have any more of a relationship with than that of staking them. As things often do, my initial ideas of Damon and Isolt changed and blossomed into something that sounds regrettably like friendship. Ever the gracious host, Isolt has lodged herself against a Pirate whose face was fantastically familiar. I wouldn't forget eyes like that â€" neither would my sister, who, after meeting the fated Tetradore, had more than enough to say about the emerald color of his eyes.

It only took a moment's glance to recognize the affection dancing in Isolt's eyes as she lounged against the arm of Pirate Tetradore. My eyebrows only gently rose, attempting to keep whatever superstition about the apparent love triangle before me to myself as I reached Damon's side. "I'm just going to say it, Damon..." I trailed off, a mischevious lilt touching the tone of my voice. "I'm a much better vampire than you."

The words were fitted with humor offered with the intent of giving my friend a moment's reprieve. Though their triangle and whatever happened between the three of them was none of my business (nor did I want it to be), parties like these have a history of ending poorly. Like, y'know, really poorly. Someone dies occasionally, things get wrecked, there's a fire â€" you know.

" I don't think we've had the chance to meet," I trailed off, raising my crystalline blue gaze to meet Tetradore's emerald. Surely he would recognize the similarities between my sister and I, affording us a sense of familiarity that would endow our conversation. Then again, that could be a bust considering my feline-friend wound his way out of the wood work, and brought a grin to my face.

"Davante Dorian." And I offered tetradore my hand, knowing he'd already made the connection.