The notorious Jay Gatsby's parties were always an extravagant affair, you'd heard. Anyone who was anyone would be there, practically every weekend.
Nobody knew why he hosted such flamboyant events, but people had stopped asking questions when the drinks flowed freely, the music seeped into the soul, and the company was many. That didn't stop people from gossiping, though...
And on this particular Summer evening, you had decided to join in with the rumoured festivities.
The large gardens and driveway outside the front of the house had a constant stream of cars and people coming in through the large metal 'JG' insignia gates. The music floated lazily out of windows and the back lawn alike.
Inside was a luxurious mixture of canapes being brought around on silver trays, drinks being poured, and people chatting with their heads bowed to be heard over the swell of jazz. Height ceilings, over the top decorations, and sparkling lights.
Almost every group of people you passed were talking about the illusive host.
"I heard he doesn't even come to his own parties." one woman hissed into the keen ear of a man who nodded.
"I heard he made his money through inheritance." another man chortles out into a surrounding ring of men with red faces and cigars.
But everyone you walk by had something different to throw into the gossip pool.
The main hall of Gatsby's mansion eventually grew too crowded, too enveloping, and you found yourself meandering down a set of stairs and through an open set of French doors.
Outside the night air was cooler, with the soft sounds of water lapping at a dock attached to the side of the house, though you needed to crane your neck to see it properly.
When you did manage to catch a glimpse of it, however, you saw the silhouette of a man stood alone, staring out across the water, his hands folded neatly behind his back like a soldier at attention.
{OOC: Moved this post over to this forum to see if anyone over here is interested!}
Nobody knew why he hosted such flamboyant events, but people had stopped asking questions when the drinks flowed freely, the music seeped into the soul, and the company was many. That didn't stop people from gossiping, though...
And on this particular Summer evening, you had decided to join in with the rumoured festivities.
The large gardens and driveway outside the front of the house had a constant stream of cars and people coming in through the large metal 'JG' insignia gates. The music floated lazily out of windows and the back lawn alike.
Inside was a luxurious mixture of canapes being brought around on silver trays, drinks being poured, and people chatting with their heads bowed to be heard over the swell of jazz. Height ceilings, over the top decorations, and sparkling lights.
Almost every group of people you passed were talking about the illusive host.
"I heard he doesn't even come to his own parties." one woman hissed into the keen ear of a man who nodded.
"I heard he made his money through inheritance." another man chortles out into a surrounding ring of men with red faces and cigars.
But everyone you walk by had something different to throw into the gossip pool.
The main hall of Gatsby's mansion eventually grew too crowded, too enveloping, and you found yourself meandering down a set of stairs and through an open set of French doors.
Outside the night air was cooler, with the soft sounds of water lapping at a dock attached to the side of the house, though you needed to crane your neck to see it properly.
When you did manage to catch a glimpse of it, however, you saw the silhouette of a man stood alone, staring out across the water, his hands folded neatly behind his back like a soldier at attention.
{OOC: Moved this post over to this forum to see if anyone over here is interested!}
No magic at all.
Industrial revolution
Unrest may be part of the setting, but any scenes that happen to involve combat may be summarized.
Romance is expected but not required, and will be accompanied by other plot.
Details: Freeform, adjustable length posts, long-term RP partner preferred. Will be played one-on-one.
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