[ She hadn't much wanted to return to Jeopardy at all. It had been a miserable, stressful place to live, marked by more loss than she's allowed herself to feel, and that was before the near-end of the world. The converging of power and the opening of the storm... there's a lot of it she can't quite remember, and Ruka has always been leery of the dark places in her memory. They usually hide the sort of things that should never see the light of existence in the first place. But it's not her that's suffered the worst, and certainly imPorts have their duty to help the people who have had no real choice in taking them in, and — well. More than one "inheritance" came with the presumption she'd do the right thing.
As ever, Ruka finds herself acting for the sake of those that cannot be seen and can no longer be heard.
She arrives dressed up for the occasion, but not in the soft, delicate palette of the party itself: she wears a dress of many blues, deep and saturated, pale and icy, but cut through and made stark by a violent climb of vibrant red, like the garment itself bore the same wounds as the world. As usual, her hands are gloved, and her left eye is covered by a heart-shaped patch, and her twin buns are fastened in place with a pair of ribbons — all in that same near-bloody shade of red. Outfit matches mood: always a little too serious, a little too raw, never quite able to relax into the intended levity. ]
♥ auctionable offense
[ Ruka had signed herself up for bidding easily enough — good cause, and all that, and what was the point of the inherent celebrity of being an imPort if you didn't use it? (Especially one of her long tenure, one of her even-now questionable reputation.) It had felt like an easy thing to assign a bare-minimum value for her time, to offer something worth chasing... but as she reads over the other offerings... ]
It really is a lot of date-dates, isn't it, [ she says as she flips through one of the provided auction guides, paying no mind to who's in earshot. ] Wonder how many of them signed up because they're lonely.
[ Rude?? ]
♥ dinner and a-movin'
[ Open bar? Nice. Hell yeah. These past two years have been a sober and sobering affair, too stressful and too dangerous for too long; even when she drank, it only kind of helped. Now? She can actually enjoy it?? Wild.
Open buffet? No. Helllll no. Ruka takes one look at the line of hotel pans, the provided tongs and serving spoons, and immediately abandons the idea of the dining queue. It's a damning prospect either way.
Of course, the dinner service is a long event, and it'll be a longer time than that before the auction's over — too much time to spend drinking on an empty stomach. Maybe you'll catch her turning away from the buffet in quiet discomfort, or maybe it's a few hours later and you find her with a cocktail balanced precarious against her arm as she fumbles through her purse and fusses with opening a very unappealing nutrition bar. Either way, she's quick to notice the attention. ]
[ Exasperated: ] What?
♥ last call (for bad decisions)
[ The bidding is over and done with; she's a little flattered to have broken into the $1K club, and she came out on top for a couple bid-wars of her own. Not bad. Now it's just a matter of checking in — to see if she needs to coerce her high-bidder into a secondary donation, for the additional offered prize — and scheduling those ""dates."" She doesn't think any of them will mistake her intentions... but better safe now than spilling sorries when she gets home.
Of course, finding the right people isn't an instant thing, and now that she's thinking about heading home after this... well, surely no one's going to care if some of that mistletoe walks out as a souvenir, right?
So maybe she was meant to be looking for you, or maybe not, but just maybe you come across Ruka making a short tower of dining chairs in one of the thresholds and carefully climbing up to untie one of the many hanging sprigs of mistletoe. As usual, her expression is pretty serious, but... hmm. How much did she drink tonight, anyway? And how long have knots been so complicated? ]
♥ wildcard
[ got something specific in mind that doesn't quite fit? just slap that shit down and let's party. ]
ruka 🐉︎ ota
As ever, Ruka finds herself acting for the sake of those that cannot be seen and can no longer be heard.
She arrives dressed up for the occasion, but not in the soft, delicate palette of the party itself: she wears a dress of many blues, deep and saturated, pale and icy, but cut through and made stark by a violent climb of vibrant red, like the garment itself bore the same wounds as the world. As usual, her hands are gloved, and her left eye is covered by a heart-shaped patch, and her twin buns are fastened in place with a pair of ribbons — all in that same near-bloody shade of red. Outfit matches mood: always a little too serious, a little too raw, never quite able to relax into the intended levity. ]
It really is a lot of date-dates, isn't it, [ she says as she flips through one of the provided auction guides, paying no mind to who's in earshot. ] Wonder how many of them signed up because they're lonely.
[ Rude?? ]
♥ dinner and a-movin'
Open buffet? No. Helllll no. Ruka takes one look at the line of hotel pans, the provided tongs and serving spoons, and immediately abandons the idea of the dining queue. It's a damning prospect either way.
Of course, the dinner service is a long event, and it'll be a longer time than that before the auction's over — too much time to spend drinking on an empty stomach. Maybe you'll catch her turning away from the buffet in quiet discomfort, or maybe it's a few hours later and you find her with a cocktail balanced precarious against her arm as she fumbles through her purse and fusses with opening a very unappealing nutrition bar. Either way, she's quick to notice the attention. ]
[ Exasperated: ] What?
♥ last call (for bad decisions)
Of course, finding the right people isn't an instant thing, and now that she's thinking about heading home after this... well, surely no one's going to care if some of that mistletoe walks out as a souvenir, right?
So maybe she was meant to be looking for you, or maybe not, but just maybe you come across Ruka making a short tower of dining chairs in one of the thresholds and carefully climbing up to untie one of the many hanging sprigs of mistletoe. As usual, her expression is pretty serious, but... hmm. How much did she drink tonight, anyway? And how long have knots been so complicated? ]
♥ wildcard