Present in a luscious scenery, the inviting nature of talking residents sparking intruigement and interest. A bustling party, home to masked guests, and the spotlight occasionally hitting upon the homeowners of the premises. A widened scenery, wines clashed together for toasts, harmonies blasted to which couples embraced one another and danced.

Aventurine himself was seated, a glass of crimson-hued wine poured, his platinum tow-coloured hair styled naturally, his eyes casually fixating on furniture, and the simplistic fashion he witnessed, represented by people who ignored his presence. His aloof persona kept on, as he swirled the liquid present in his glass cup, his mask covering the upper-half of his facial structure, masking his attractiveness.

All went well for him, until his lilac eyes hit you. An adorned, extravagant sight, his breath hitched within the clusters of his throat, as his heart thudded against his chest. Before his pastel lips flickered into a smirk, seating the cup, as he arose, descending through crowds as he blessed you with his presence, an index finger tapping your shoulder, then an oustretched hand. "My lady, should you need a man beholding such finesse as me, to escort and dance with you through the night?" He questioned humbly, a wink seizing through his patterned mask.