i need a release )) open!

[Zoe Aves]

Zoe Aves

Why was she an eagle? Why not a dolphin, or an aquatic animal? Zoe loved the water, and anything to do with it. But dolphins aren't fierce, aren't into carnage like predatory birds. maybe i should've been a penguin! the girl thought, laughing at the image her mind drew up. Her tinted-blue eyes crinkled with mirth. the flightless water fowl. yeah, no way. she pushed the thought away. What Zoe loved more than water, or cooking, or drawing, or riding horses, or, yes, even studying bones, was flying. She couldn't get past the joy of gliding on air currents, the race of diving, the taste of prey--okay that's not weird at all, she's a bird after all!

Zoe stared wistfully at the window, unfocused, lost in a dream. She could already feel the night press upon her silent wings, embracing her in its promiscuous and capable hands as she shifted into the golden eagle. The transition wasn't painful in the dream, didn't make her feel like a thousand needles were stabbing every part of her body. It was graceful, fluid, and extremely easy. In the bliss of the dream, she floated hundreds of feet above the campus grounds until everything lost all definition and became one giant mass of black.

The girl was up in a snap, the chair of her desk sliding across the floor quickly in her hurry to throw open the inviting window. Zoe leaned her head outside, looking down to the grass below. It was only a story or two down, in case she fell off the ledge. Squatting on the narrow strip of window and seal, she slowly raised her arms, just like all the other times, to begin shifting.

The mental part was easy, it was just the physical pain that she didn't look forward to. For her mind, she simply had to think: eagle. this shift will be easy, no worries, Zoe. you're an eagle, and they feel no pain. Not every prep-talk sounded like that, but they were all, essentially, the same, with a few variations thrown in for the kick. Okay, not really for fun, but... whatever.

Aside from the pain, the shifting was almost enjoyable. Zoe loved to think about how her body was changing, twisting and conforming to the eagle's skeletal, cardiac, nervous, and intestinal systems. She was just interested in the ways of the body, inside and out. That's how she is, and most people judge her for it. They think she's weird because she enjoys "wasting" a day studying bones and half-rotten corpses. It must be the bird in her.

The cool air brushed against her face as she took off, her powerful wings, each at least four feet in length, parted it like the Red Sea. She flew so much, she drempt about it, could feel the pull of flight even in her sleeping hours. It consumed much of her thoughts, unless in class or scrutingly picking apart an animal. (No, not "eww!").

The forest flew by, a blur of deep green. Bright neon caught her eye, a glimmer in the dark. It was the dance club. Zoe had tried to steer clear of that place--it only attracted trouble. But tonight she felt... alive. She needed something to calm her down. Why not a nice drink? In a nightclub filled with sweating hotties and the occasional, only-in-front-of-guys-lesbian or -bisexual. They made out with other girls, okay. But what wasn't cool was that they did it for the attention. Zoe didn't like that.

Her mind was jumping all over the place, as free as a bouncy-ball chucked across a square room filled with trampolines. (How's that for an analogy? Can you see it in your head? Isn't it hilarious!?) She had to release some of her pent-up energy, something she couldn't do sitting around her dorm room all night. What better place than a club?

The club was located off-campus, but she was still allowed to fly around there, so long as none of the humans from the Other Island saw her--and it was impossible to do that; they didn't even know Shifter Academy existed, let alone that there was a nightclub across the ocean.

Her wings glided her closer to the building, landing just away from the back door. She wouldn't sneak in, but she preferred not morphing back into Human-Zoe with everyone and their mom watching. It was still a little weird for her to be so open about her ability, even after a year at SA.

When she was finished, Zoe waltzed around the side of the building, almost blinded by the neon burning her retinas. The guy at the door stared at her, maybe wondering where she'd come from. Whatever he thought didn't matter. Zoe flashed him her Student ID card, letting him know she was indeed in the eleventh grade before opening the door.

Bass pounded in her ears as she slipped across the dance floor. Her eyes roamed the throbbing multitude of dancers bumping and grinding each other. It almost made her sick. Good thing the bartender was straight ahead! She swapped her Student ID for the fake license that claimed she was over 21. The 'tender barely glanced at it before pulling out the wine cooler she ordered. He knew that she was under-aged, but, well, the majority of everyone else here was too.

She stayed at the bar, sitting on one of the open stools. Most of the others were filled. And look! There was even a little paper umbrella to stick in her drink! Zoe's rush of excitement deflated once she realized the umbrella only looked cool in martini glasses. Aw well.

Word Count: 981
Tagged: Sultan, anyone
Legend: Black is Zoe's thoughts, Maroon is Zoe talking. Maroon/Strike

[/s] is somebody else talking.

Outfit!

[/blockquote][/size]

[Sultan Zaafir]

~ ♛ ~

[/font]
I NEED HORNS TO HOLD MY HALO
A ∙ H A L O ∙ T O ∙ H O L D ∙ M Y ∙ C R O W N[/center]

A laugh reached rosy lips and spilled out into the air as the tall teen danced stupidly to music in his room. It was more headbanging as he got dressed though, letting his wet hair drip and splatter all over his stuff. It wasn't that much water, so it didn't bother him, and besides- he was having a lot of fun goofing off. He probably didn't notice what he was doing. Water splashed everywhere, as his hair had that feathery quality reminiscent of his animal and didn't retain water very well. It just dripped right off, getting dry in around 10 minutes, 5 if he danced like this. Laughing loudly as he pushed the black hair out of his eyes, he stood up and turned the music down.

Having had no homework, Sultan decided it was time to treat himself. All he had had lately was a walk on the beach and a quick fly around down town. Though he'd been out of his home country for a while, he'd lived a rather sheltered life there and never gotten an opportunity to really go out and have fun. And why not do that tonight since he had some free time? Sultan had been to the club a few times before, nothing major and not with any kind of date, but that was fine. He messed up his hair, now dry, after combing it. It immediately tangled and he cursed his middle eastern heritage under his breath.

Wetting down a few stray strands of hair and pulling on a pair of ripped jeans, holes almost everywhere from the middle of his thigh down to the middle of his calve, and just for a bit of looks, he fidgeted for around 10 minutes getting an old, stiff, cracked leather belt through the belt loops. The pants were light, and would show if he spilled anything on them, but eh, whatever. It was his night to have fun, and the pants were comfortable- the holes kept him from getting hot.

After he was satisfied with the belt being through all the loops, (he always missed the one in the back on the left side.), Sultan stepped shirtless over to his small closet. Pushing the racks back and forth, his golden eyes scanned the closet for something cool, yet looked nice. Finally he settled on a faded button down that had the sleeves rolled around 3/4 of the way up with extremely faint baby-blue stripes on it. Slipping it over one arm, he left it hanging unbuttoned as he grinned softly and grabbed a black and white vest on a hanger. Pulling the shirt over both arms now and buttoning it, only leaving 3 buttons undone, he pulled the vest over the shirt. Looking himself over in a small mirror, he settled on buttoning only one button in the middle of the vest before shoving a thin silver ring over the knuckle of the middle finger on his left hand.

As he did every time he left his living space, wherever it may be, he pulled his pendant out of his shirt, a silver star with a crescent moon curved around it, a red stone resting inside the star. Pulling it on it's short chain to his lips, he kissed it once before dropping it back in his shirt, patting it lovingly.

Strapping on converse shoes of varying shades of gray, the holes in Sultan's pants gave threatening tearing sounds as he perched on the windowsill of his room a few stories up. Being an eagle shift, he figured it was best to have a few stories to fall, so he cold just leap out of his window like he had done so many years ago to escape the king, the father who had tried to kill him. He was used to it now, but that sure didn't stop his heart racing as he plummeted about 20 feet before wings stretched out of his sides and he shrunk, feeling his bones get lighter and his lips turn into a rock-solid beak.

If he was still in human form, the rushing winds of going at his speed would have dried his eyes out severely, probably enough to scar them and leave him blind. The golden glint remained in his eyes, looking over the people he was passing as they walked. Normally he would see them as ants, but his faithful, powerful eyes saw every detail on their faces and he even recognized a few from his philosophy classes.

If he could smile he would, as the wind running through the 'horns' made by his feathers tickled slightly, and in his good mood it wasn't hard to make him laugh or smile. Feeling daring and spotting a mouse, he darted down at top speeds, clinging his wings to his sides, about to snatch the mouse up before realizing it could be a classmate. Quickly steering himself upward, he lightly skimmed the concrete walkway as he bolted back up into the sky, only to softly glide down onto a chain fence barrier on the outside of the club.

Shifting back to human right there, he ended up sitting at the top of the fence, laughing as he jumped the meager 5 feet down to the ground and lightly dusting himself off. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, making sure the end of the chain attached to his red canvas wallet was pinned securely around one of his belt loops. Flashing his Grade 12 ID to the bouncer, he nodded and muttered a small thanks in Turkish as he passed by the rope.

Once inside, he reveled in the loud, blasting music, the thundering bass, the smell of perfumes and alcohol, and the lighting and atmosphere. Hopping happily over to the bar, he found the male 'tenders were rather busy. Oh well. Walking over to a not-so-work loaded female bartender, ordering a shot.

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking, pretty boy?" she said with a small smirk, eying his outfit. Sultan was discouraged, but that didn't mean he would give up. This was HIS night, and nothing was going to mess it up. He just laughed softly. Time to turn on the charm. Playing up his accent, Sultan leaned on the bar slightly, hoping the lights around him made the liquid gold of his eyes glint slightly. "Oh, üzgünüm, I am sorry.. what is the age here? My country is 18.." he pulled a small pout face, really playing up the act. Her expression softened slightly, and Sultan swore he saw a blush.

"21. But if not to be culturally ignorant.. uhm.." she slowly slid him a shot, a small smile playing on her lips. He nodded. Perfect. Obviously his plan had worked, he noticed how shallow girls went for his accent and rugged looks over his personality, and it went to his advantage. Of course, he was telling the truth. In Turkey, the age was 18.

"Thank you." he said, still playing heavy on the accent. Downing the shot, he gave her a small smile, ensuring that if he wanted another he'd be able to get it.

Heading over to the stools, he found only one was empty. the one beside a girl with long brown hair that curled over her back. Sultan thought he had seen her around, but he couldn't be sure. She wasn't in his year, and he knew that for a fact. Thinking it was worth a try, he sat there. "Hello." he said happily, the accent still there but this time it wasn't his fault and wasn't as heavy. Spinning his ring idly on his finger, Sultan watched a few people dance.

[/size]

Outfit.
♕ ☪ ♕

Comments: I am so proud of this post. Hah.
Wordcount: 1,287.[/color][/size]

[Zoe Aves]

Zoe Aves

Watching the erotic dancers grinding and bumping their bodies to the music, Zoe began to stare off into space. The bass was giving her a slight stomach ache like it always did if it was turned up too loud. She could feel it vibrating through the floor, and then through the bar stool. There were so many people pushing their way through the crowd, some a little drunk, some absolutely plastered, and even a few buzzed or even relatively sober. Zoe could never drink more than a few--she was so lightweight that even one tallboy or wine cooler could have her feeling like she'd downed five. The male bartender behind her was extremely busy tending to the hoard of drunkards calling out their orders. None seemed to pay much attention to the lady 'tender furthest away. Maybe it was too far to walk for them. She chuckled then took a sip from the long-necked bottle. The sour apple bit at her tongue, teasing her taste buds even after she swallowed.

She heard the chair next to hers deflate as someone sat on it, squeaking the slightly rusty swivel underneath. "Hello." The voice was lightly accented, but not like one she'd heard before. The guy to which the word belonged looked like a familiar stranger. Zoe couldn't recall which grade he was in, but she assumed he was a Senior. She knew some of the kids in the grade below hers, and most of the Juniors like herself. Even though he was exotically gorgeous, or maybe because of that, she couldn't look straight at him, and when she spoke, it was kind of mumbled. "Hey." Zoe was extremely shy, especially when approached by complete strangers. It's only after talking to her for a while that she starts to loosen up, longer if the character is a little shady. Or does excessive amounts of drugs, chews, or drinks heavily.

She almost choked on the paper umbrella, not realizing that it'd fallen through off the lip and into her drink. Her eyes watered, a tear or two running down her face. She wiped it away, glad that she wasn't wearing any mascara or eyeliner to smear. The only make-up that she wore tonight was chapstick. Her hair was down, hanging around her shoulder blades in soft brown waves. Inside the waves nestled two eagle-head earrings, a black stone and silver wings dangling from each one. They were a present from her mom after she expressed her sudden interest in eagles. The real reason behind the lure was unknown to Sofie, as she wasn't let in on her husband's lineage's secret. Zoe's mother was a human, and a very chatty one at that, and couldn't be trusted with such an important secret as shifting. Heck, Sofie was lying around home thinking that her daughter had gotten a full scholarship to an academy for the gifted, which was actually true, just not for those who are only intellectually endowed.

The long-sleeved blue coat she wore was getting a little hot. The room temperature in the club had risen with everyone sweating and releasing heat. It would've been hot even if they all stood still. Bending her left elbow, Zoe began sliding the sleeve off, pulling her arm back while tugging on the cuff. She did the same to her right arm, laying the coat lengthwise across her lap. Finally, she turned back to the guy, playing with the cloth by plucking at it, just to have something to do, to take her mind off her nervousness. She would very much rather had finished her beer in silence and been on her merry way. But with one drink, well, her brain might have made its mind up to have a risque dance with one of the too-drunk teenagers across the room. She'd heard stories about kids from the school having beer dumped on their heads, and really didn't want to fly back to her dorm with damp feathers. Or replace the pretty tee or jeans she had on.

Mustering up her courage, Zoe said: My name's Zoe. She didn't bother with her last name, Aves. She always got questions on it that she didn't feel like answering. Her father had told her that his great-times-infinity grandfather had changed his last name to Aves, which was the Class given to birds in the Scientific Classification in Biology. The reason behind the surname change was that that same grandfather had been a shifter, and his shift animal had been some form of bird, though the exact form was long forgotten in a long line of primarily avian morphs. There were a few that differed, but the Aves line was mostly birds, whether it was a hummingbird, eagle, or ostrich.

Word Count: 815
Tagged: Sultan, anyone
Notes: Sorry it's kinda short. I was aiming for a 1ker or more, but I ran out of time. I'll make up for it later, promise!
Legend: Black is Zoe's thoughts, Maroon is Zoe talking. Maroon/Strike

[/s] is somebody else talking.

Outfit!

[/blockquote][/size]

[Sultan Zaafir]

~ ♛ ~

[/font]
I NEED HORNS TO HOLD MY HALO
A ∙ H A L O ∙ T O ∙ H O L D ∙ M Y ∙ C R O W N[/center]

By this time Sultan was really getting into the atmosphere of the club and the feeling of the fast paced music beating into his chest. He smiled widely as a song he recognized came on the stereo system and he happily tapped his fingers on the bar, occasionally clicking his ring on the edge for a certain drum beat. Looking over at the dancers and the people who knew the song screaming in approval. "So did you say 'Please just follow me'? I thought you wanted me. 'Cause I want you all to myself. I can try and suck it up. I just can't suck it up. Make me feel like someone else." he laughed as he sang the chorus under his breath. It really was a catchy song, as he preferred more heavy music, and even if he hated it, he couldn't help but get it stuck in his head eventually.

Smiling as wide as he was, a thick gold tooth was able to be seen in the left corner of his mouth, but only barely. The most you'd notice it was a yellowy glint coming out of the corner of his mouth. He'd fallen off of a high rock when he was 12 and hit his face on the edge of a stone table, cracking it clean out. Poor boy cried for a few hours, then allowed them near enough to his mouth to fit the tooth. Thank god it wasn't a baby tooth.

He continued to watch the group, eyes darting back and forth between a stumbling girl in a red dress to a douch-y looking guy with a faux hawk trying to seduce said girl. He grimaced slightly, but didn't let it take his smile away. The song had ended and so did his tapping on the bar. He swiveled in his chair a little bit and laughed at his amusement of this simple thing that not even 5 year olds liked to do.

"Hey."

He tore his eyes from the girl and guy dancing now and focused them back on the girl with the curly hair he had sat beside. "Oh, so you talk." he laughed softly and the gold tooth showed again. When she didn't speak again he simply crossed his arms over his chest and looked down a bit. Curse his damn middle eastern heritage.. not a one person was very keen to talk to him at first because of it, but once they saw he wasn't a dangerous criminal they were fine. Sultan guessed it was all because of the craze of terrorists. When people saw him, all they thought was 'dangerous terrorist bomber.' even though those people weren't even from his country. The former prince of Turkey was not a terrorist. The cultures were completely different and in thinking about this he started to get a bit preturbed.

Calm down, Sultan. Calm down. he thought. He couldn't be getting flustered over something stupid that no one had even said anything about at the moment. Don't ruin your night. with a sad smile, he looked back at her. "Sorry. I could leave if you'd like." a shrug rolled off of his shoulders as he adjusted the vest and pulled his shirt down a bit before resuming his position with his arms crossed on the bar.

It was getting a bit hot now, and once again he left his position to roll up his sleeves a bit more, making sure they wouldn't fall. Pulling two safety pins off of his pants that were holding a few holes together, he pinned his sleeves up so they now resembled a short sleeve button down. Maybe he should have forsaken looks for comfort.. oh well, it wasn't that hot yet and if it did get hot he'd probably leave. He wasn't much for hot places or climates anymore now that he had left Turkey and lost his ability to become quickly accustomed to the hot temperatures. His view on what temperature was 'hot' was getting lower and lower by the year.

"My name's Zoe." she said shyly.

Looking back at her he nodded politely and smiled again. "Nice to meet you, Zoe. My name's Sultan." he held out his hand a bit for a quick handshake, realizing only too late how stupid this looked. Hell, in most parts of Europe it was customary to kiss someone on both cheeks for a hello, but he had found out quickly that that didn't fly in any other part of the world, so he resorted to the typical American thing, a handshake, and it made him look foolish sometimes. Letting his hand fall back to his side. "Sorry.." he said with a slight foolish blush across his face. "I uh.. still don't know how to greet someone here." rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he smiled at her apologetically.

[/size]

Outfit.
The song Sultan was singing.
♕ ☪ ♕

Comments: No it's fine.. it intimidates me when posts are over 1k. Mine only go over that once in a blue moon. XD
Wordcount: 818.[/color][/size]

[Zoe Aves]

Zoe Aves

Her stomach felt like carp, but it was getting better once she got something in it. Sure, it was alcohol, but it should've been better than nothing. Her head was a little sore too. Why was her body trying to ruin her night out? All she wanted to do when she left was fly high and loosen up! And now this pretty guy was trying to make a conversation and all she could concentrate on was the pounding of the bass and her head in sync. She was so gosh dang shy, too! She wasn't very good at making eye contact the first few times until she warmed to the person. And he was talking again! "Oh, so you talk."

[/s] She laughed with him, still cursing her timidity.

One might think that, with the drastic change from her old self into her new, shifting self, she'd leave the shyness behind like her self-consciousness about wearing revealing clothing, but, well, some habits are hard to break. It may not even be a habit, but just part of her character. "Hahaha, yeah. And you speak English really well." Zoe wasn't sure if he was one of the kind of guys who didn't like his accent to be pointed out, but she thought that if she had an accent, she'd play it out for all it was worth. She became a little panicky when he offered to leave, apologizing for something she couldn't perceive. No! That's okay. I like the company." It was true.

She had been called pretty many times, mostly by drunk, partly clothed, sopping-wet guys, which probably said something in itself. Zoe didn't believe them, so she tended to ignore them, ostracizing herself from the public because she felt she wasn't good enough. Some parts of that image of herself changed after being granted the wonderful, sixteenth birthday present of Shifter Academy. She dressed a little differently, found out that the world could be fun, and even went on a few dates her Sophomore year. Her mother would kill her if she saw half of what went on in this dance club. Zoe chuckled at the though, realizing that she wouldn't've dared to step foot inside the place two years ago, let alone find someone to make her a fake ID which allowed to her purchase drinks. It gave her a chance to make some friends and chat it up with anyone who wanted to chat it up with her.

The foreign guy started talking again, so she turned to him, holding her head a little higher than before. She looked at his face more closely, noting the way a gold-covered tooth twinkled out of the corner of his mouth when he smiled really wide. He greeted her, then introduced himself as Sultan. "Sultan? That's a different name." He reached his hand out, like he was going to shake hers, but then pulled back, blushing like he was embarrassed. Zoe let her own fingers lie flatter on her coat. They'd started to rise to grip his hand in a handshake before being denied. "Sorry."[/s] Sultan said, red tinging his cheeks and neck as the blood rushed to his face. I, uh, still don't know how to greet someone here."[/s]

How far away from America was he? He certainly had a peculiar accent, but Zoe had known a guy who'd lived in California for going onto twenty years who was from Italy. He'd moved when he was fifteen and had kept the strong accent because "the girls loved it". Smiling, she reached out and made to grasp his hand anyway. "A handshake is fine, but it's kinda formal." Her fingers twisted her hair back behind her ears out of the way so she could talk and motion with her hands and not be distracted by flyaway strands. "I normally just say "Hi" and smile a lot." She laughed, her hands moving about.

If you had to put words to the motion: they were flat, palms down, moving horizontally until turning to cup the air. Not quite like a "What are you talking about?" gesture, but sort of how some of the dancers on the floor put their hands on their partner's hips. But handshakes work fine. And if you don't mind me asking, emm," she paused, wondering how to say what she wanted, "where are you from? What's your birth-country?" She was a very curious girl when she was younger, and age had only intensified her curiosity. Besides, she wanted to know what kind of accent he had. It was nice.

Word Count: 785
Tagged: Sultan, anyone
Notes: Oh, okay!
Legend: Black is Zoe's thoughts, Maroon is Zoe talking. Maroon/Strike[/s] is somebody else talking.

Outfit!

[/blockquote][/size]

[Sultan Zaafir]

~ ♛ ~

[/font]
I NEED HORNS TO HOLD MY HALO
A ∙ H A L O ∙ T O ∙ H O L D ∙ M Y ∙ C R O W N[/center]

Smiling softly, Sultan shyly brought his hand up to nudge her cheek, hoping she'd look at him. He laughed a little, letting his smile turn into a friendly, light-hearted grin. "I'm not gonna do anything. Just wanna talk to someone who doesn't seem to have sex on their mind. All the girls here just oogle me." shrugging, he crossed his arms on the bar and leaned on them, looking around idly for a few seconds before smiling at her again.

Compared to Sultan's sheltered lifestyle as a kid, he was being very outgoing at the moment. Before, he had to keep his head up, back straight, shirts unwrinkled, pants tucked into his boots, which had to be buckled perfectly. He had to keep his hair short and tidy, and his face completely shaved. The usual 'model prince' look. "Hahaha, yeah. And you speak English really well." she said softly. "Oh, thanks. I didn't have to speak it until I came here.. so my first year I had to use a 3rd year to translate for me and teach me during free time. I still mess it up and speak a few words in Turkish, or forget English words a lot.." he scratched the back of his neck apologetically, as if he had already done that to her, already started speaking his native tongue.

It really was so, it had been awkward to talk to teachers and such because of the barrier. He had worked so hard with Prens, the crow, and the other the middle-eastern student at the academy, to learn to converse in English. Prens had translated for him until he had to leave, seeing as he was 2 years in front of Sultan. Before he left, however, they had had almost 2 hours a day, every day, to force Sultan to learn the complicated language. No matter how long he was away from his family and home, though, he kept the accent.

Smiling widely when she made a huge fuss about him going to leave, he sat back down on the bar stool and tapped his knuckles on the counter a bit. The female bartender who was so smitten with him before immediately brought over another shot. Raising his eyebrows slightly as she scuttled away with a small smile, he laughed nervously. "Hah. I'd only seen that in American movies.. I didn't think it worked.. I thought it was just something pretty to make the dude look better.." shrugging, he downed the shot with a smile and a harsh sigh as the hard liquor burnt and nipped at his throat as it flowed down. "Better then wasting. I'll be paying for it anyway.."

"Sultan? That's a different name."

He nodded, eyes flitting downward for a second before looking back up at her. "Yeah. 's not much a name, but more of a word. We normally take our names from words and not actual names. For instance, a Sultan is a king. I guess my dad thought Sultan Sultan would be a.. eh.. humorous..? erm.. title.." he stopped suddenly and quickly downed a second shot that the lady had brought over to cover himself. In his haste to make a joke and lighten the mood, he had given away a bit too much. He'd never told anyone except one teacher- and that teacher had died during a particularly painful shift in his older years- so at the moment, no one knew Sultan's secret.

He snapped out of his worried reverie as she commented on how formal a handshake was compared to her normal 'hello' and a smile. He nodded slightly. "Oh okay. So what should I do? I'd rather not look like a fool again.." he let out a nervous laugh and smiled, spinning his silver ring on his finger. He was highly surprised as she reached over and took his hand, and to be quite honest, they both looked a bit freaked out. She let go of his hand, and he simply smiled a bit.

"But handshakes work fine. And if you don't mind me asking, emm.." she paused, as if thinking, and Sultan looked at her kind of expectantly. "..where are you from? What's your birth-country?"

Well he couldn't say he was surprised. People never knew where it was from, since his accent was more 'pure', being from the higher classes. It wasn't the casual, back-alley kind of accent most were used to. "Why, Türkiye of course." he finally said with a smile. "Sorry, Turkey. See?" he laughed loudly, seemingly drunk though his high tolerance made sure that even after 8 glasses of the harder stuff, he wasn't even tipsy. "A great place, but sadly the middle-eastern looks and location make people peg me for a terrorist. That doesn't stop the shallow girls though. Swarm like flies over anyone who sounds different." he laughed again, continuing to swirl his ring around his finger as the song changed to a slower paced one and the erotic dancing died down to a more sensual close-dance.

He hoped the music would get fast again, he felt kind of awkward.

[/size]

Outfit.
♕ ☪ ♕

Comments: Yeah. Thanks. Hah. It looks like he kinda rambles in this post.
Wordcount: 847.[/color][/size]

[Zoe Aves]

Zoe Aves

Shaking her head, Zoe listened to his wish, and promise. "Well, it's probably because you're pretty." She was not known for beating around the bush after cracking open her shell, so outright things like she'd just said here actually pretty common. "Plus, they're all normal teenagers. Of course they're thinking about sex." Zoe laughed, realizing that she hadn't put herself in the category of "normal". Swiveling the stool around, she set her now-empty bottle on the counter, hoping the bartender wouldn't be too upset about the umbrella inside. Drumming her fingers on the wooden surface, she listened to him explain about his English-speaking problem. It kind of reminded her about her problems with Spanish, but hers wasn't nearly as important. If she messed up in class, it wasn't a big deal--mess up in the big world, and he could look like an oddity, or even a foreign troublemaker, to put it nicely.

The sound of knuckles rapping on the counter brought the less-busy barmaid scurrying over with a small shot glass. She set it lightly in front of Sultan, his nervous laughter following her retreating behind and slightly amused smile. "Hah. I'd only seen that in American movies.. I didn't think it worked.. I thought it was just something pretty to make the dude look better.."

[/s] Zoe didn't know what movies he was talking about, but assumed they were either old westerns, or something with spies. Maybe he liked spy movies.

After she commented on his name, he began to explain it, which surprised her. Sultan had seemed like the kind of guy who didn't reveal too much about himself, especially to a stranger. When he finished, she guessed he had realized what he'd done, he gulped down the shot to hide his feelings. She watched silently as he tipped back the harsh-smelling liquor and swallowed it in one. If his face turned red due to the alcohol or to embarrassment, he hid it pretty well. "I don't know how you do that! That stuff's nasty." Unless he was into the whole burn-your-throat-and-make-your-eyes-water kind of thing. Personally, Zoe couldn't stand anything that strong, but that didn't mean that anyone else couldn't enjoy it. "Well, then I'll just call you The Sultan. Does that make you a prince then?" she teased, his explanation of the word "sultan" fitting perfectly with what she had thought the word meant. If he had meant to make a joke earlier, she hoped that her quip had helped smooth over the mishap.

He asked how to greet a person normally, so she went on to explain as he twirled a silver ring around his finger. She did that sometimes with her class ring, but only when she was bored or nervous. Zoe then inquired about his accent. She prayed that he wouldn't get defensive and refuse to tell her, even though it was in his right to. She was relieved to hear him say, "Why, Türkiye of course." like it should be obvious to her. Had she been majoring in Linguistics, then the accent might have been easier for her to place. The unfamiliar word sounded very different from English, and was obviously the name of a country. He corrected himself, the second name more familiar to her. But the word "Türkiye" intrigued her. The closest she could come to the pronunciation was "tur-key-eh" or "turk-yeah". Sultan seemed to be laughing a lot after just two shots of the hard stuff, but he looked like he could handle a lot more. Maybe American liquor wasn't as potent as Turkish liquor.

The song slowed down from a fast beat, allowing the dancers to get a little more up-close and personal with each other and really enjoy the sensuality of dancing like they were. Zoe didn't think he looked like a terrorist, as he'd said, but just exotic, which was a good thing. "That's how it is for anyone with a peculiar trait. You're just doubly lucky to have an accent and good looks. I'm surprised we haven't been joined a whole posse of drunk, cliquey girls yet. But it looks like they've reeled in quite a few guys already." Zoe wasn't kidding about the, er, floozies on the dance floor. She even knew a couple of them, talked or heard about most of them. The group had paired up with almost every eligible (or claiming to be eligible) bachelor in the room and were working their "magic". More than likely, the poor sap would wake up with a hangover and wonder why he'd bedded someone who looked that bad in the morning after a night of partying. She laughed and tried to catch one of the bartenders eyes for a second Smirnoff.

Word Count: 837
Tagged: Sultan, anyone
Legend: Black is Zoe's thoughts, Maroon is Zoe talking. Maroon/Strike[/s] is somebody else talking.

Outfit!

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[Sultan Zaafir]

~ ♛ ~

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I NEED HORNS TO HOLD MY HALO
A ∙ H A L O ∙ T O ∙ H O L D ∙ M Y ∙ C R O W N[/center]

The beat once again returned to the way Sultan liked it, but with a twist, now some random Gogol Bordello was playing. He liked the fusion of old european folk music with punk guitars, and tapped his feet to the familiar beats when he found them. Too bad he didn't know Russian. That's what some of this was, and he'd always wondered what the short snips of lyrics meant, but he'd never bothered to ask anyone. Besides, he could do without trying to memorize yet another language. 2 was enough for him, and even then he messed those up. He wondered silently how in the hell all those polyglots manage to keep them all in check. From his studies he remembered how the Tsar's family in Russia had to learn French, German, English and Russian. His head swam just at the thought. Score one for everyone but the Turks, eh?

"Well, it's probably because you're pretty." she said bluntly. This was only met with a look of confusion. "I'm.. pretty?" Sultan was taught that 'pretty' referred to girls, and 'handsome' was for guys, so he was utterly confused. He blinked a few times in rapid succession and just kind of stared at her. Awkward. "Well.. uhm.. thank you.. I think.." he laughed awkwardly and tried to lighten the bit of weird tension that seemed to be growing on her comment.

He nodded at the comment about sex. It was true. The floozies and barbie looking fake-tanned girls on the dance floor just showed that, and their equally fake-tanned, spiked hair boyfriends only supported that theory. He was beginning to think that spray tans contained chemicals that turned everyone they came in contact with into egotistical douchebags with bad fashion sense. Some kind of hormone, he reasoned. Placing one finger in the empty shot glass, he twirled it around on the bar, amused at how easily it glided. Oh what a job a bartender would be. Sultan could definitely see himself doing all the fancy tricks and sliding the glasses down to the customers at the other end. Indulging in a fun-seeming fantasy, he didn't notice much else, namely Zoe grimacing slightly and asking him how the hell he could drink those shots.

"I don't know how you do that! That stuff's nasty!"

He laughed after a few seconds and smiled, looking up at her from his hunched over position. "American alcohol is a bit less potent then European. It's.. as if you drank koolaid in Europe, came to America.. and drank the same koolaid, but the Americans put twice as much water." he paused, examining his analogy for a moment before nodding to confirm his point. "Yeah. Exactly." though he was scrawny, his height added more mass to him and that made it very hard to get Sultan drunk. Tipsy, not so hard, but flat out hammered out of his mind? Don't even try, you'll be broke by the end of then night and he'll still be completely coherent. He hated that sometimes, he really wondered what a hangover felt like.

"Well, then I'll just call you The Sultan. Does that make you a prince then?"

He gulped strongly at that and let out a weird laugh before laughing genuinely at just how absurd his first one had sounded. "Yeah.. heh.. I guess." Little did she know she was right.. well not anymore he wasn't.. but once upon a time, right? He was sure she was joking, and so his face resumed back to its happy go lucky appearance. The song ended and he pouted slightly, wishing more of that genre would come on. It didn't seem likely, as that was the only thing he'd heard in this club through all the times he'd been here that most of it wasn't English. He didn't understand it, but the beat was lovely and way catchier then it should have been.

"That's how it is for anyone with a peculiar trait. You're just doubly lucky to have an accent and good looks. I'm surprised we haven't been joined a whole posse of drunk, cliquey girls yet. But it looks like they've reeled in quite a few guys already."

Sultan rolled his eyes and laughed. "No I'm not. The accent gets annoying and I'm not.. .. erm.. .. 'pretty'." he laughed at using that word to describe himself and slid the empty shot glass from one hand to the other, still completely amused at how slick the counter was. Looking over at the dancers, Sultan recognized a fair few of them from his classes. He wasn't surprised the ones her recognized were the ones dancing. Sultan had always pegged them for the kind of girls to sleeping with anything that moved. He himself had never even had a girlfriend, and the thought of randomly sleeping with a different girl every night disgusted him.

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Outfit.
♕ ☪ ♕

Comments: N/a.
Wordcount: 807.[/color][/size]

[Zoe Aves]

Sorry Lex! I'll get to this today, fer sure, but I've been busy getting ready. Here's my absentee thread: here