Basil + Dutchess | May I Have This Dance?

Lights, glitz, and glamor are perfectly suited to a woman with the sensibilities of a one Miss Dutchess. Setting aside the fact that there are no proper royalty in the burrowgatory, Dutchess has made it her mission to seek the lifestyle of a princess, no matter what. Finery and golden things are not merely enough for her - the attention, admirers, and renown that comes with such a status must be part of the package pseudo-royal deal. She would be a dainty little fool if she didn’t get herself to the Gala EARLY. But not… too early, of course. She wants an entrance. If she is one of the first people to arrive, she loses the gasps of awe and splendor from the crowd watching her entrance. If she is too LATE, everyone will be too involved in dancing and drinking and kissing behind curtains to stop and take notice of her.

She arrives somewhere after the hour mark, not too deep into festivities, but not so early that the floor is empty. Her dress compliments the rest of her, golden and shimmering, studded with pink and yellow gemstones, a slit up the side to allow her own gem-laiden thigh to peak out from under the fabric. It clings to her curves, tight, elegant, extravagant. If the fluff of her fur on her ears was not enough, the wide curls of her hair certainly make up for the look of a dramatic crown of gold that encircles her. Her hooves clack on the polished floor as she walks down the stairs. … Perhaps she slips, a little, at the bottom of her entrance, a brand new golden hoof-guard against slippery shiny floors doesn’t offer much for traction.

She’ll never admit this… but her hands fly up, a squeak falls from her mouth, and she stumbles down the end of her entrance. Her tail lashes behind her and an embarrassed, horrified pink color attacks her face. Hey! Thankfully, it matches the REST of her pink adornments! It’s… it’s just a bit of blush, that’s all. Completely intentional! (Not…) With a huff, a flip of her curls, and a pout far too immature for a doll of her age, she storms off to find somewhere to quell her poor pitiful embarrassment.

It seemed as though another bun was trying to quell her own embarrassment over at the dining area, too.

Basil had originally assumed that the gala started at six A.M. a reasonable time to get up, and in her mind, a reasonable time to get done with any festivities you had in the day. In fact, most days she woke up even earlier - in her mind, it would be particularly pleasant to go to a gala in the morning, and then have the rest of the evening to rest from the festivities.

Most succubuns, however, were not Basil.

Despite the invitation denoting that it began at six, when Basil arrived at Angora’s mansion, it seemed as though there wasn’t anyone else there. Where were the crowds that were promised? The pizazz? Everyone?

Only when the security guard at the door laughed when she questioned him did she realize. Most buns don’t schedule parties in the early morning - the invitation, when it said six, meant six P.M.

So, she waited. Out there at the front of Angora’s mansion, because of course she wouldn’t be invited inside until other guests were there. She didn’t know Angora personally, why would she make some kind of exception for her?

So she drank. Not much - but still just enough to try calming the frustration of having to wait ten hours when you thought you were right on time.

Only when she heard a huff did she notice the other succubun. She looked particularly high-class - the way her gemstone horns shimmered definitely helped that fact. Perhaps… could she make a recovery from her first mistake of the night by making a connection with a high-class socialite? It’s what she’d meant to go to this event for in the first place, after all.

“Do you need a seat?” She asked, trying her best to sound polite. She gestured at the one next to her.

Dutchess, thinking she might have finally found a nice corner alone to lick the wounds of her ego, has a cloven hoof held up behind her. There, she inspects the bottom of her new "horseshoe", mumbling tiny insults of varying degrees of intensity at the thing for being so ill prepared for the task she wanted it for. There isn't a scratch on the golden surface… and that is exactly the problem!!! 

She's paused in the middle of her little temper-tantrum by the soft voice to her side. She stands there, eyes wide and cheeks red in shock for far too long before she drops her hoof, straightens herself, and allows her body to relax into a mature, feminine position. One hip is out further than the other, her shoulder are curved back, her nose is up. … It's clear she's still quite new to the princess-act business, despite her wealth.  

"Why yes… I would love to take a seat right now. I swear. How d o they get these floors so immaculate? I swear, they're almost as shiny as mine back in my burrow," she lies. Dutchess does sit down, tucking her fingers under the back of her dress to smooth it down and tuck it under her legs when she sits. Then, she allows her sparkling gemstone leg to drape over the furred limb, posing with both hands propped on her knee. "Thank you so kindly for the offer… I take it to mean you don't have any company with you?"

Basil’s smile turned a little stiff at this comment. She pursed her lips a little. “I’d say more that my company hasn’t even arrived yet.”

She sighed. She didn’t even want to get started on how her day’s been so far. “Fashionably late, probably.”

“But– that’s besides the point.” She hand-waved it, shooing the conversation topic away the same as one would a pesky imp. “What I meant was– the gala is a place to meet new people, isn’t it? I’d think that making a few connections would be good. I mean, with someone besides the wait staff, that is.”

She grumbled a little as one of the bartenders slid her another drink. The other bun pointedly didn’t make eye contact with her.

Dutchess took a moment to reach into her clutch as the other bun spoke. She located the deep pink lipstick residing within it, encased in a golden tube. Alongside it, a compact, equally as delicate and golden, is removed and popped open. She puckers her own lips, reapplying the color to the bottom one especially, and kissing them together until the pigment becomes equally distributed. The compact snaps shut with a satisfying magnet _clack_ and both items are stashed back where they belong. 

“It sounds like we are both having horrible luck this evening…” she mutters, voice light and delicate. “I was hoping to have someone to attend the gala by my side and everyone was booked or busy or had arm candy of their own. Quite embarrassing, really…”

She smiles though, eyes lighting up as she leans in toward Basil. Dutchess extends her hand, offering it to her new not-yet-but-soon-to-be friend. Her nails are not painted, but shimmer the same as her hooves, pink and glittery gemstones. “I like the way you think. I also would like to befriend someone other than the staff. Dutchess. Very nice to make your exquisite acquaintance.”