Refined Motion
Chapter One: Moirai
Over-the-top was never my sense of style; however, given the occasion over-the-top was nothing less than appropriate. After prinking before my mirror for the past half hour, I decided on a black maxi dress that hugged my curves like a custom-fit glove. It had a halter-style top that revealed a liberal amount of skin and split down both sides of my thighs, coupled with black strappy stilettos. My hair was let down from its typical up-do; reaching down to my lower back and curling slightly at the tips. Going heavy on the makeup, I applied liquid eyeliner that tapered out into a wing. Coating my already long lashes with mascara gave depth to the blues in my eyes. I gave myself a once over in the mirror, and I'd have to admit: even I was impressed. I grabbed my purse and made a beeline to my car. As usual, I was running late.
XXX
Polished hardwood flooring glowed with a luminance, casted by dim cream-pigmented lights. Music streamed colorfully throughout the bar, the bass reverberating to my core. Drunken laughter flitted in and out through the heavy ambiance and set delightful vibes. I scanned the establishment in search for my cousin, Misao. My gaze finally stumbled upon her and the group of people she was surrounded by, some faces familiar and others not so much. A pair of beautiful violet eyes tangled into my view, he smiled at me and I couldn't help but reciprocate the expression.
It was difficult to make out what Makimachi was rambling about over the blare of the speaker as I approached closer –from the looks of it she was animated and passionate. For some odd reason I had a bad feeling it had something to do with me. After having paid close attention to what Misao was saying, he returned his attention back to me with play and enticement dancing in his purple hues, confirming my inkling. I found him irresistibly charming at that moment.
As I came within an ear-shots distance, Sano looked up at me and smirked, "Speak of the devil." I shot him a glare that would crumble any lesser being, though Sano was a ghastly brute. He smiled goofily at me, to which I chuckled and smirked. He was a dear friend to me, having spent much of my adolescence with him.
"How's it hangin'?"
Misao suddenly stood from her seat at the oval shaped table and lurched messily into my embrace. She was a couple inches shorter than myself, which spoke volumes given I stood at a whopping 5'2. She was jumping all over the place, expressing sentiments erratically.
"Kao you're finally here!" She exclaimed in a slur. Her lips intimately hovered over my ear and she whispered sloppily, "You look so fucking hot tonight, I could die." I quirked an incredulous eyebrow and laughed at her. Over her shoulder I caught sight of Sano and the violet eyed stranger conversing and glancing in my direction.
"Introduce me to your friends, dork." I spoke low enough so that only she would be able to hear me over the music and jumble. She nodded her head enthusiastically.
"For those of you who don't know this is Kaoru." She stated a little too haughtily, as if I were some prized possession. Cordially, I shook hands with those I didn't know and hugged the few that I did. Misao had been swooning over Aoshi ever since she met him some couple years ago, which I never fully understood. Based on what she'd tell me, he was her stark opposite: calm, demure, and uninterested. He had one hell of a vice I'd give him that much.
Takani Megumi had an air of confidence that draped around her like an invisible cloak. She was beautiful; though, there was an underlying arrogance in her demeanor. Adorned in a leopard backless dress that emphasized her curves, her raven hair was clipped up in an extravagant up-do. Megumi most definitely met the criteria for Sanosuke's type: bold and ostentatious.
"Himura, Kenshin. Pleasure." He took my hand in his gently, placing his other hand atop in an affectionately polite embrace. His eyes were even more stunning up close, like rare stones, they were a ravishing amethyst. He was beautiful, charming, and the warmth he emanated made him all the more beguiling. I made a mental effort to ebb away at the blush threatening to spill over my cheek bones.
I took a seat next to Misao, which was adjacent to Himura's. At the center of the table were expensive aged spirits chilling and an array of empty glasses that ranged in size. The melodic blares from the live band were experimental and fun, with undertones of numerous genres harmonized remarkably. This bar was high-end, renowned for its distinctive choice of musicians and exquisite beverages. This wasn't your typical "get-drunk-off-your-ass-and-act-a-fool" type of vibration – no, not even close. This was an oasis of fine liquor and a haven for dancers – the novice and advanced; a refuge for artists and enthusiasts of the like.
Misao turned her gaze towards me, her emerald eyes sparkling and lips curled in utter jollity. She grabbed a tall shot glass and poured Hibiki 21, among my favorites as far as whisky went. Not that I was a big on drinking, but I've always been one to appreciate a good thing or two. "You have a lot of catching up to do." She teased and winked. I smiled at her then took my shot back in one fluid motion.
"You're on Makimachi."