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Riley is in the midst of getting dressed it seems, in black formal pants and a white shirt, checking the polish on his shoes.
Despite as much height as any Edreeni, Riley is apparently human. His hair is a mass of floomphy chocolate colored curls, cut close on the sides but allowed to grow more riotously on top. The occasional gray hair is visible amongst the brown. Set beneath careful brows, his eyes are the same chocolate shade as his hair, except where they are flecked with odd greenish specks that tend to pick up the light. His features are not angular or aquiline, although there is the hint of both beneath the cultivated air of excessive averageness he employs. His feet and hands are large, even in proportion to his six foot eight frame, adding to a relatively harmless image. His voice is low, with a touch of a rumble at times, as his natural accent tries to break clear.
Riley's costume is neither wild nor daring, but then that should hardly come as any surprise. He's wearing a tailed tuxedo, jet black and closely fitted. The pants hang neatly to perfectly shined black polished shoes, and the shirt is crisp and carefully ironed. The vest and bow tie are both a satin black, and rather elegant-not at all Riley-esque. The jacket itself is a very formal tail-coat, the dagged ends fall nearly to the back of his knees, although the front buttons are at waist level. Now admittedly, for Riley this is something of a costume, but not really suitable for a costume ball, right? Well, except for the crowning touch, a plastic animal nose, of the variety one acquires in a happy meal. It's a penguin beak.
Clara finally comes out of the bathroom, for once having been a typical female and taken far too much time, and leans against the door frame. She clears her throat lightly, watching you with appreciation. "Nice, love. Very nice indeed."
Fairly tall for a woman at 5'9", Clara is nonetheless sharply slender, the type of shape defined as willowy by the kind, or whiplike by the easily intimidated. Unique coloration adds to the conspicuous form, with almost untamabley tight curls standing out at angles to her head in a reddish bronze halo. The face they frame is at odds, pleasantly heart shaped and the color of java with a fair amount of cream with deep set hazel green eyes under well manicured brows. A light dusting of freckles crosses a thin nose, above wide lips flexible in expression. She seems to have about 28 years, although one can never be too sure.
While unmasked, this isn't an outfit most doctors would consider a uniform, but rather a cancan girl. Lace seems to be the order of the day, along with a fair amount of satin. A fitted bodice of scarlet satin is ruffled at the low neckline with a flounce, wide straps in place over her shoulders. The skirt of the dress is an equally deep scarlet and falls to upper shin, and yet has an interesting flash of white lace along the hem. Were she to lift the skirt at all, the entire underside would reveal rows upon rows of lace and crimson ribbons, not to mention a strategically placed garter. Black fishnet stockings end in high-heeled, calf-high buttoned black leather granny boots, well polished as should be no surprise. Copper curls have been piled high atop her head and offset with a black fuzzed plume, matching ebony arm-length satin gloves and a black lace choker.
Riley glances up from the process of shrugging on the tailored jacket. One of the nice thungs about being almost Edreeni sized, finding clothing isn't as hard as being just a tall human. He looks up, bow tie still dangling untied. He's already grinning, but that widens as he spots what you're wearing. Well, widens perhaps is the wrong word, it's more of a jaw drop. Then that grin widens all the further, "You look wonderful, love."
Clara glances up at the ceiling demurely and lifts the skirt just enough to show off the garter for about a split second, then heads over to lower to a graceful seat on the couch. "Thank you? I haven't the foggiest how women were supposed to dance in this. Well, I -know-, but..."
Riley attempts to lean in to sneak a kiss, chuckling softly as he shifts back to set about tying his bow tie. "You look lovely, you always do, but that's really -cheerfully- lovely. Mm-mm, maybe I should just keep you here."
Clara returns the kiss rather contentedly, since someone this far in the future is bound to have invented lipstick that stays put. "Mm-hmm," she notes, utterly amused as she reaches forward to offer to help with the tie. "Why don't you just wait on that thought, sailor? I'm not changing anytime soon."
Riley is more than game to get help with the tie. This isn't exactly the kind of thing he's had a lot of experience with wearing. Absently he rummages to make sure he has the penguin nose. "I just don't want to have to -share- my vision of lovlieness."
Clara seems to know the knack of a bowtie, not surprising given her upbringing, and leans in to claim another kiss for payment after it's settled. "I promise, you'll be the only one to see most of the lace on this dress, love." At the sight of the penguin nose, she bursts into laughter. "That's fabulous! Can I kidnap you?"
Riley offers payment and perhaps a tip, as another kiss is added on for good measure. He grins at the laughter, sliding the string back and plunking the thing on. "Hey, I thought you didn't kidnap penguins? I could request sanctuary?"
Clara rises smoothly and gives her skirt a twitch for a view of said lace, laughing as she walks away. "Sanctuary granted, sir." She reaches up to a shelf to pull down a small purse and an even smaller medical kit which promptly goes into the purse. "Just about ready?"
Riley climbs to his feet, leaning into the bathroom long enough to examine the state of his hair in the mirror and to judge the effect of the nose. He pads back out, nodding. "As I'll ever be, you?"
Clara has her eyes crossed and is trying to look up at her forehead where she's arranging a curl as you come back out, then straightens the look and grins. "I suppose so. Do you think your sister will be there?" she asks snapping off the light and reaching for the door.
"Honalee says she's -supposed- to be. She sent a costume for Cori, see." Riley steps to the door, attempting to hold it open for you with a tilted bow.
Honalee? Costume? Those words rather lose meaning for Clara for a moment as she gives you an undeniably adoring look for the opened door before she steps out with a murmured thank you.
[travel spam snipped]
Obsidian Feather Ballroom
An endless sea of mirror-black marble is off set by cascades of twinkling white lights, like a vast array of stars in the black of night. A full half of the room is simply open, allowing for dancing. A low stage is built at one end for full orchestra to set up on. The other half of the room is filled with large cloth covered tables, providing a place for patrons to dine. The walls are hung with sweeping tapestries in deep toned metallic designs to offset the polished floors and twinkling lights overhead.
The place settings are all in crystal and heavy silver to match the decor, and lit candles crown each table. The ceiling overhead is plasglass, exposing the sky above.
The orchestra has taken up residence on the stage and is playing some rather classically swooshy waltz. Terrifyingly dressed diplomats abound, and even this early, the ballroom is packed.
Clara hesitates slightly just at the door, jaw setting for an instant before she ventures a rather brilliant smile upwards, voice lowered. "Don't look now, but I think we just got hypered back to Terra."
Riley had thought he'd seen it all. Uh, no, he hasn't. He all but trips at the doorway. An Admiral he may be, but he's still a child of the middle classes at best, and this is a bit startling. Offering an apologetic look as well as his arm he nods, "Uh, wow..."
[Continued in the log of the ball itself]