Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2024
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
Since the wonderful members of TDOM enjoy the site enough to play around on it, this thread is to assist with the site's tidying! Functionality is important and we want to make the site functional even if its activity will be minimal at best!
Requirements for attending occasions involving the wealthy oftentimes resulted in tedious preparation in formal attire. These sparked the necessity to spend excessive amounts of time fixating on assuring every feature on the clothing was perfect. There were never any choices for Dexter, his grandparents and uncle insisting on absolute excellence whenever they could. The Adams family were not always perfectionists, but manifesting incredible impressions on their associates remained a constant concern. They were expected to be charmingly social, although, Dexter was already aware he remained unsuccessful in those regards. While his grandparents fidgetted with the features of the simple black and white tuxedo, small sections being adjusted. The collar around his neck was properly tightened, the redhead briefly flinching from his dislike of the insistence towards fixing his attire. Quickly, his grandmother tied the tie around his neck, a bright red, popping against the formal slate of white and black. There was smooth haste to the woman's hands as she worked on the tie before straightening the suit coat and properly tucking the tie. Quietly, Dexter submitted to his grandmother's adjustments, knowing it would be easier rather than struggling against her. Carefully, the woman looked over the white cuffs, making certain the cufflinks looked formal and proper before stepping back and releasing a long exhale.
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The elderly woman's eyes glanced over her grandson, a satisfied smile lighting her face as she provided a soft nod. Hair was well-kept and properly groomed, the suit was adjusted to provide a formal appeal and finally, the striped glasses were exchanged for simple black rimmed ones. The formal appearance of her grandson would merely remain for the gala they were attending, Colleen Adams already aware she was fortunate to persuade Dexter into dressing proper and attending in the first place; even then, it consisted entirely of begging and guilt tripping. The stubborn young man always insisted on skipping these social gatherings. While the grandparents had displayed the benevolence to allow further avoidance after the sudden demise of his parents, the time arrived for Dexter to show etiquette and charisma. Unfortunately, the introverted young man knew he lacked the social capability and interest to potentially manifest new connections through these instances. An extensive sigh escaped the bespectacled man's mouth as he glanced over his grandmother, finding her humble black and white dress which reached her ankles. Her faded red hair was tied back into a tight bun, revealing her wrinkled, albeit, well-maintained face features. A simple golden chain hung around her neck, a heart-shaped locket on the end while her plain wedding band wrapped around her finger.
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"Honestly, Dexter, I need to teach you how to prepare yourself, sweetie. I still had to help your grandpa with his own tie," she stated with a gentle chuckle.
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There was always a softness to her tone, pleasant and welcoming for the young redhead. Genuine care always graced her voice whenever she spoke to her family, making Colleen a delightful presence for Dexter and ultimately, his parental figure since he lost his parents.
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"Grandma, I do it myself and then you always insist it is a little off," Dexter responded with a sigh.
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A soft chuckle escaped Colleen's throat as she reached to grab her grandson's hands as he gazed at his beautiful face. Slowly, her gentle hand reached up to caress his cheek, a smile on her face.
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"You look, wonderful dear. Maybe you should send a picture to your writer friend sometime, okay?" She suggested, the compliment inevitable.
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The sheer mentioning of Maxi, despite the obscurity, resulted in a faint red hue breaching Dexter's cheeks. He found the blue-haired man rather cute, his shy personality proving to allow an understanding between them. Oddly, the emotions arrived quicker than expected after they met on a cold, February day last year. Only after a few days did Colleen discover her grandson's affection towards the author being obvious from the instant she saw them together. Another soft laugh escaped his grandmother's lips at the blush as she dropped to take only a single hand, leading her grandson out. There was a brief interaction between his grandparents before they met their uncle in the foyer. A smile breached the uncle's face, another uttering of a compliment, however, his uncle remained careful with his words. There were numerous instances where the uncle accidentally upset the young redhead, mostly by bringing up the family business. Once everybody was prepared, the family walked down to the limo parked at the front of the manor, all entering the back where the talk continued.
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Limo conversation consisted of information based around the family hosting the gala, the Matthews family. In the wilderness of Lorsette was where the estate was, the family discussing more the closer they got. There were statements of 4 families living in the household, all ranked, which was something Dexter's family detailed. While they spoke, the redhead merely half-listened, not completely interested in the conversation. Species were mentioned extensively, the name Fergus being brought up alongside statements he was the head of the estate, special because of his unique species compared to the others; which were nephilims, gifted, regular humans and mere shifters. There was a certain section of information which piqued Dexter's interest, which was the mentioning of familiars and the family's need for bonding. From Dexter's knowledge, the Adams family lacked any familiars, which meant the situation was strictly business association. A soft sigh escaped the redhead's lips at the notion of future conversation, his eyes gazing out at the wilderness, snow-covered fields and skeleton trees painting the picture of winter.
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Gradually, the limo closed in on the estate, driving through the country roads before finally reaching the bright beacon in the night. The driver parked, exiting the vehicle to open the door for the family, which was greeted with a pleasant thanks. Confidently, Dexter's grandparents lead the group, backs tall as they walked towards the front doors, his uncle promptly following their example for posture. Meanwhile, the redhead possessed a slight hunch forward as he awkwardly followed behind his family, entering the lavish household and entering the ballroom. There was a pause as his family glanced around, waiting for a greeting before slowly drifting into the crowd while Dexter wished he could have stayed home as he desired. These situations were tiring, the small talk is extremely boring to the young bespectacled man. This would certainly be a rough party to handle, and Dexter wished at every second he could escape the loud crowds.
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[ Just let me know if anything needs to be changed! c: ]
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Brendon Redal [break] 1,085 Words
a dislike for crowds and strangers, but the chocolate raspberry mousse...
[attr="class","les"]
T
he young brunette’s face tightened with distaste from where he sat in a white and beige chair, the reflection of himself staring back. His mother busied herself behind him, drawing her hands through his hair in one last sweep, and then stepped back to admire her handiwork. “And there we are,” Her smile was warm and there was pride in her hazel eyes as she stared back at him in the mirror. “Remember, you must be on your best behavior tonight. I mean it, Brendon, it’s very important.” She chastised lightly as Brendon reluctantly stood from the chair and accompanied her through the bedroom.
“But why do I have to go?” Her warning didn’t silence his complaint, and a disgruntled pout had settled into his features, causing his cheeks to swell, as he dragged his feet out into the hall. The resounding click of her bedroom door became the concrete reality of tonight’s formal gathering, and the fact that he was going to be attending whether he liked it or not. A loud sigh parted from his mouth, one born of frustration and a life of usually getting what he wanted. He was certain of it now; these social gatherings were quite literally the bane of his existence!
A short while later, when they entered the ballroom, a half dozen or so guests had already arrived, the echoes of animated chatter and mingling filling the two story space. Brendon’s gaze swept over the room, drawing up to the set of three crystal chandeliers as their luminescent glow flooded the ballroom. The walls were painted a soft beige, and elegant white curtains had been individually drawn over each of the twelve large, white-framed windows, that were normally aglow during the day.
Standing beside his mother, his posture tense, Brendon was adorned in a vest and dress pants of a medium gray, a white undershirt, and gold tie. He hadn’t noticed the way his mother’s gaze searched the room to find grandfather Fergus at the end, seated at a grand long table with Brendon’s cousin Eleanor and her fiance. The white lioness was the daughter of Angelina and Elijah, the most influential and powerful of the Matthews family, beside Fergus Matthews himself.
Brendon’s gaze roamed to an elderly woman who approached and his mother immediately greeted her, her voice friendly but docile. “Good evening, Mrs. Donnelly, I hope the night has been treating you kind?”
Brendon’s mind was vacant thoughts, only nerves and anxiety plaguing him, as he stared between the two women with a deep frown. It was through the subtle touch at his back, of his mother’s hand, that he straightened and greeted the elder. “Mrs. Donnelly,” He greeted hesitantly. His mother smiled down at him briefly before continuing the conversation with Mrs. Donnelly, and Brendon’s attention wandered passed the sets of dining tables, their green tablecloths and white folded napkins, to a familiar mop of raven hair atop a sourly stoic white pasty face; Damarian Matthews. At the sight of his cousin, Brendon scrunched his nose and narrowed his eyes. Damarian was seated by himself at a table while his mother and older brother were invested with a group of guests.
“Here, why don’t you have a slice of cake?” His mother offered a few minutes later, once they had been free of Mrs. Donnelly. Brendon first looked to her with clear reluctance, but his attention quickly fixated on the chocolate raspberry mousse cake she had picked out for him. “If you never came to one of these soiree's, then how would you ever be able to eat your favorite dessert?” She teased, knowing his weakness to the desert table.
Brendon’s stomach proceeded to grumble and he couldn’t fight the deep and insatiable hunger for the slice she was holding out for him. “Thank you,” He mumbled as he took the plate and held no self-control. He immediately brought a forkful into his mouth to savor the amazing taste of raspberries and chocolate. His mother’s soft laughter caused him to pout, because she was always telling him how cute he was. But, another family had approached their area, and so instead she turned to greet them in the same way she had Mrs. Donnelly.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Adams,” She somehow always knew who everyone was. Whenever he attended these gatherings, he always found it surprising that she seemed to know the last names of everyone who was invited. When his mother’s hand touched his back, Brendon’s large eyes flickered up to the elderly grandparents. “Good evening,” he mumbled and glanced toward the lanky redhead as he took another bite of his cake. He couldn’t tell the other’s age. He was tall and skinny, but didn’t have a mature face. He looked like maybe he was an older teenager. Maybe eighteen? He didn’t look quite as old as Leighton, Damarian brother, who was in his late twenties.
Excruciatingly bright light filled the ballroom, easily widdling down Dexter's tolerance, a groan escaping his lips. Under a majority of circumstances, the young man would maintain a dark room, allowing his night vision to allow sight. There was time taken to adjust to intense lights, his uncle looping an arm with him. The firm grip forced the bespectacled young man to follow his uncle towards the mouth of the ballroom while his eyes adjusted. Eventually, Dexter found himself capable of properly seeing in the large, luminescent ballroom. There were endless lighting affixtures dangling from the ceiling while others were secured to the walls. A flinch graced Dexter's face as he glanced around the room, already aware he would struggle this evening. There were crowds of people dressed in formal clothing, each appearing to dress in their most beautiful wear, displaying their wealth openly through high-quality clothing and plenty of jewelry. Slowly, Dexter pulled away from his uncle, no longer requiring the assistance; nor did he necessarily desire it anymore. Finally, the redhead thoroughly glanced around the room, noticing the multiple chandeliers hanging above, shedding light across the large room.
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Bronze lighting affixtures were secured to the walls, pouring light over the tables pressed up against the walls. The mixture of beige with white accents covering the walls radiated the light, resulting in the room appearing brighter. The tables themselves were covered in pale green tablecloths, white napkins centred to the chairs. Bronze coloured rails made the chairs, a single cushion of a darker green for seats. Food was provided on tables, specifically desserts of varying types, although, it failed to capture Dexter's interest Meanwhile, people would converse in the centre or remaining near the tables. A soft sigh escaped Dexter's lips, the introvert already regretting obeying his guilt-tripping grandparents; if only he decided to remain at home. There was a smile on Colleen's as she glanced around, arm roped around her husband's. She appeared overzealous at the attendance, the elderly woman glancing over her shoulder, smiling broadly at her grandson despite his bored expression. Another sigh escaped Dexter's lips, a small frown touching his lips which resulted in Colleen's face turning serious. The evening was crucial to the Adams family, especially considering their business could flourish further.
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"Dexter, honey, at least pretend like you are going to enjoy yourself here... You need to make the family look good, so behave yourself, please?" She whispered the question.
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They paused at the threshold of the ballroom, Colleen knowing the situation required handling before they entered the crowded room. Inevitably, Dexter's family would be watching him closely, each thoroughly aware the young redhead was rusty after avoiding these social events. The untimely death of his parents left the bespectacled redhead unwilling to attend social gatherings, which under these circumstances would result in him becoming an unexpected guest. A soft sigh escaped his words, knowing there would be multiple people watching him through these events.
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"I will," he murmured quietly, trying to appear more attentive.
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A thin smile touched Colleen's face as she proceeded to pause outside the ballroom. "Excellent, and maybe if you are extra good, I will consider allowing you having your special friend over more often. Oh! Maybe next time he should come with us."
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Immediately, red painted over Dexter's cheeks as he glanced towards the wooden floor. There were palpitations in his heart from his grandmother's requirement to repeatedly and indirectly mention Maxi. Constantly, she would concern herself with his love life, although, there were innocent intentions; she merely wanted him to be happy.
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"Grandma," he mumbled in an embarrassed hiss.
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There was a round of quiet giggling from his family when they responded to the young man's embarrassment, Dexter pouting momentarily. Undoubtedly, Colleen would be gleefully telling her friends the incredible news before swearing them to secrecy. The young redhead knew his extroverted grandmother extremely well. They proceeded forward, Colleen and Wayne Adams entering first, resulting in them receiving a greeting. A broad smile touched Colleen's lips as she noticed the greeters, flitting between the woman and her young son.
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"Good evening, Mrs. Matthews and of course, Mr. Matthews," Colleen responded, providing the child with a professional greeting. "May I say, the decor is lovely this evening. It feels like years since we could attend."
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The former winter seasons lacked attendance considering the funeral arrangements after his parent's deaths. Afterwards, Dexter and his uncle followed, remaining close behind the elderly couple. There was mild anxiety entering the young redhead as they entered, the former criminal already knowing he would be facing scrutiny from his previous affiliations. For a few moments, the bespectacled young man kept his eyes adverted, waiting for the red to dissipate. A deep breath was taken, followed by a long exhale before Dexter directed his attention more thoroughly to Mrs. Matthews and the young boy. They were dressed formal, as expected, the young boy eating a piece of cake. There was a friendly glance from his grandmother who smiled, preparing to introduce the other family members she brought in tow.
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"I imagine you know my son, Richard," she stated, gesturing to Dexter's uncle (who provided a small nod as a greeting) before softly grabbing her grandson's arm. "And this is my grandson, Dexter."
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There was a pause before Dexter managed to sufficiently answer, "Good evening,"
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A nod of approval was provided by his grandmother before she directed her attention back to Mrs. Matthews. It was evident Colleen was unconcerned about the potential scrutiny she could receive for bringing her troublesome grandson to a social gathering; perhaps she wished to banish those misconceptions that he remained heavily affiliated with the Scarlet Ghosts. Chances were, his grandmother's plans were to re-introduce Dexter as the civilized son, a true shadow of his deceased parents who would manifest pride in the hearts of his family. Even the manner his grandmother dressed and styled him suggested a similarity to his father. Hair properly groomed back, classic black and white suit attire and professionally simple black framed glasses. Through the entire year after his parent's death, the young redhead refused to attend these social gatherings, his family allowing it in hopes to assist his mourning. Unfortunately, now became the time to enforce mandatory attendance to the occasional gala, his family desperately attempting to create a professional image for somebody who would eventually be forced to become head of their corporation.
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Brendon Redal [break] 1,068 Words
a dislike for crowds and strangers, but the chocolate raspberry mousse...
[attr="class","les"]
T
he amber of Brendon’s gaze flickered back to the elder woman as she introduced her son, and out of the corner of his eye he could see his mother tipping her head to him in silent greeting. Brendon didn’t, but he did peer up at him, his eyes large and curious, and then roamed back to the redhead when he was introduced as their grandson, Dexter.
“Good evening.” The grandson greeted.
Brendon took another bite of his chocolate rasberry mousse cake and licked his lips, savoring the flavor, while his mother did all the work of having to converse with the family. He listened to their small talk about the gathering, business, and the fact that the Adams hadn’t attended in quite a long time.
“You don’t mind?” His mother questioned and had brought him up into the conversation, along with Dexter. Brendon had finished his cake and she elegantly had taken it from him, placing it on the silver tray as a butler passed by. “Well then, Brendon, how about you show Dexter around?”
He didn’t like it, and he didn’t want to. But, the only thing that represented his inner feelings was the frown he wore, which he didn’t keep long.
Socializing was never Dexter’s strong suit because of his introverted preference, thus the man felt awkward standing alongside his family while small talk smoothly manifested. Quietly, the young redhead slowly glanced around at the extravagantly dressed guests for the gala. A soft sigh escaped his lips, his gaze shortly returning to the pair of Matthews his grandmother planned to converse with. Despite being the son of a wealthy family, the bespectacled young man felt no sense of belonging among the guests of the Matthews' family gala. There was reliance on the social grace of his grandmother, the introverted young man uncertain if he could handle an extensive period of meagre small talk with a stranger. Exhaustion would eventually settle in, thus Dexter concerned himself with lasting throughout the rather extensive evening inside the manor. When the butler walked nearby to fetch the dishes, the redhead silently watched, his mind only vaguely remembering the natural occurrences of these fancier party affairs, although, everything felt foreign.
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The criminal actions Dexter accomplished oftentimes resulted in his parents being forced to hide their son in the safety of their room. A thief amidst a large grouping of wealthy individuals would ruin any social events, especially if somebody claimed he stole or decided to get physically violent because of the crimes he committed. As a result, the redheaded gifted found himself perplexed and nervous about the events of the evening. He was expected to make his family proud, yet, years of avoiding attendance would make achieving the notion difficult. A deep breath was taken, the bespectacled man watching the butler leave, his amber eyes shortly returning to Mrs. Matthews when an inquiry was asked involving his name. Narrowly, Dexter avoided a flinch, but slight uncertain breached his expression as concern flooded his mind. How could he defend himself in these conversations without his grandmother? He already found it difficult to keep a bored expression from his face, but small talk was not Dexter's strong suit.
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A thin, wide grin touched Colleen's face. "What a marvellous idea! Isn't Dexter?"
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As the words left her mouth, she tightly grabbed her grandson's arm, leading him a few steps forward. There was a slight pause as the redhead glanced at his grandmother briefly before his eyes flitted towards the Matthews.
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"Yes... I don't really know where I am going," Dexter mumbled, uncertain if his diction was suitable.
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An amused giggle escaped Colleen's lips as she gazed up at her grandson. Once it was decided, she gently released Dexter's arm before her wrinkled hands carefully smoothed his suit. When she completed banishing any wrinkles from the sleeve, she returned to her husband's side, expecting her grandson to remember the skills taught on proper etiquette. There was a brief smile on the youth's face, the redhead was unsure what may have manifested it, but he silently hoped everything would proceed smoothly. The first question involving a sweet dessert resulted in Dexter's eyes widening briefly, his affection for sweets being something strong.
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"Yes, I do," Dexter stated, trying to maintain a facade of professionalism.
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Every word Dexter stated was carefully chosen, the young man attempting to make his grandparents and uncle proud of him. Unfortunately, social events were never his forte, which created a hesitance before he pondered word choice prior to speaking; this would certainly because of a tiring evening for the introvert.
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Brendon Redal [break] 562 Words
a dislike for crowds and strangers, but the chocolate raspberry mousse...
[attr="class","les"]
B
rendon Matthews had spent the entirety of his life on the premises of the Matthews estate, having interacted with outsiders only during social gatherings or the occasional, but rare, visit, and while he held an interest in what lied beyond the gates of the manor, that curiosity had never been directed toward people. He wanted to explore the world, not its people.
But, it wasn’t that he didn’t like meeting new others. He just didn’t like the gatherings. A myriad of different expectations were placed upon his shoulders, and these events were always riddled with etiquette protocol along with many other rules. And — even more annoying…! — was that his mother always became so nitpicky and moody with him!
“Yes, I do.” Brendon brought his attention back to the red haired youth when he answered. The young man was much larger in stature than him. He resembled the other adults in the room. But something else caught Brendon’s attention as he stared the other straight in the eye. His height wasn’t the only thing he noticed — but the color of his eyes. They were like his.
Surprise widened Brendon’s eyes briefly before they proceeded to narrow as an uncomfortable feeling settled into his gut. He had never met anyone else who harbored amber eyes like his own, not within the Matthews household, or the outsiders, and it made his stomach tighten, and grow hot, with what could only be described as jealousy.
“Is cake your favorite dessert?” He asked him further, but turned sharply on his heel as he ventured away to bring Dexter to the array of desserts that decorated the food table. This guy’s favorite dessert had better not be his chocolate rasberry mousse cake, too!
Separation from family members never manifested into anxiety for Dexter, until this particular moment. An acute fear sparked in the pits on the redhead’s mind, bringing force a nervous heat and tension which settled on the back of his neck. There were many people who glanced in his direction, curious of the newcomers to the prestigious social gathering. Capability in social interaction was a questionable notion for the bespectacled gifted since he could perform considerably well in these situations, however, lacked the interaction battery power. A conversation was somewhat exhausting, reaching lengths of tiring the introvert rather quickly when exposure was prolonged. When his grandparents, specifically Colleen, pleaded for his attendance, Dexter expected to rely immensely on them to manage a majority of the socializing. However, they smoothly passed him off, forcing him to play nicely with a young boy he never met; did they lack the understanding to the predicament they placed him in? Initiating and actively participating in the conversation with people around his age already proved difficult, but with somebody who appeared to be a mere adolescent?! The uncertainty broke through Dexter’s poor attempt of an amused facade, the young adult glancing back at his family.
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While his grandparents continued their own socializing, Richard glanced towards him. A reassuring smile touched his face as he gestured for Dexter to pay attention to the young boy he was forced to converse with. Inaudibly, a sigh escaped the redhead’s lips, his gaze promptly returning to Brendon. As Dexter gazed at the youthful boy, he noticed the wide-eyed expression on his face, resulting in him raising a brow in confusion. An inquiry was followed by a sharp turn, the redhead pausing before slowly following the brown-haired adolescent.
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“Not really, but I do like chocolate,” Dexter answered, remaining quiet in tone.
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Uncertainty coated the redhead’s words as he moved to follow Brendon, however, he already wished his grandparents did not push him to socialize. After years of avoiding these gatherings, Dexter felt unprepared to handle the situation on his own. Gradually, each step took them closer to a lavishly decorated table filled with numerous desserts. Plates were strewn across a matching green table cloth, a variety of different desserts, making it evident the Matthews were prepared to cater to a majority of people’s sweet preferences. There was a pause as Dexter stared at the many cakes, his personal favourite always being those with plenty of chocolate. Chocolate had always been his favoured sweet, the redhead frequently enjoying it whenever the opportunity presented itself, unfortunately, the mild nervousness manifesting in the pit of his stomach made him hesitant. There was still a majority of the evening to come, and Dexter was unsure if he could last for the extensive hours and make his grandparents happy. The concern easily extinguished any appetite the redhead may have possessed prior, leaving the dessert table merely a place filled with beautifully decorated cakes rather than a place to quench hunger.
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Brendon Redal [break] 494 Words
a dislike for crowds and strangers, but the chocolate raspberry mousse...
[attr="class","les"]
“
Not really, but I do like chocolate,” Dexter answered from behind and Brendon turned to face the redhead as soon as he came to the dessert table. His gaze first fell on the male but, if he were to be completely honest, the delicious smells from the different desserts had his gaze trailing off toward the table, taking up more of his attention than who he was chaperoning.
Sweets were a fairly easy topic conversation, because everyone liked them — at least everyone who was relatively younger. Old people didn’t seem to like sweets as much, like his mother who only ever partook in a small amount of dessert. Brendon, when he could get away with it, would often overeat until he literally felt sick to his stomach.
“Well, which one out of all of these would be your absolute favorite?” He questioned, a little impatiently, finally bringing his amber gaze back to Dexter, wanting to know once and for all which dessert the other yellow-eyed boy would pick.
Offensive language or actions were always a concern for Dexter during these social events. Association with these gatherings were a rarity for the introverted redhead since under most circumstances he managed to narrowly avoid them. Usually, his troublesome behaviour gave his family hesitance to permit his attendance at these events, however, recent developments provided his grandparents with a reason to change those traditions. Unfortunately, the redhead found himself somewhat cursing his change of demeanour solely because of the awkward situation it placed him in. Abandoned by his grandparents and uncle, Dexter was expected to fend for himself as he spoke with the son of the Matthews' family. The dessert fixated conversation was something unique, however, the bespectacled man's tense nerves staved away any hunger remotely. Throughout these few interactions, Dexter was cautious about possibly saying the wrong thing and being criticized for it. The impatient question surprised the redhead, a curious thought entering his mind. Was he supposed to be able to answer whatever inquiries were asked without any hesitation or vague answers?
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"Um... well... I..." Dexter briefly flinched at his word struggle.
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A deep breath was taken, the redhead straightening his posture and reminding himself he needed to act professionally and formally. If only the task was easier...
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"Well... I guess I would just pick a plain chocolate one," he answered, instinctively shrugging.
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The casually stated remark could hardly be considered remotely professional, thus the redhead frown. An annoyed sigh almost escaped his lips, but he resisted the temptation. It was extremely difficult to refuse himself the ability to outwardly display his self-infuriation. These parties were definitely not a pleasant atmosphere for Dexter and he supposed it was starting to show. He was struggling to contain his regular behaviours, his previous facade breaking from a mere moment of concern over a potential error. Admittedly, the redhead prayed somebody would save him from the current social situation.
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Brendon Redal [break] 319 Words
a dislike for crowds and strangers, but the chocolate raspberry mousse...
[attr="class","les"]
B
rendon wondered if the other male was perhaps looking down on him. Although, growing up within the Matthews household under the close supervision of his mother had left him rather spoiled. It had also left him unequipped with social etiquette. In fact, it quite frankly annoyed him that the redhead simply gestured with a shrug to a plain chocolate cake on the dessert table — especially when it was amongst the variety of other amazing sugary goodness. For him to pick the chocolate cake, and to call it “plain” to boot, was more than enough for the young nephilim to be certain that he wasn’t taking him seriously.
Perhaps he got a little too fiesty and mad about rather dumb, simple, things. But, regardless, he couldn’t quite fight down the red tint of annoyance that had begun to grace his chubby cheeks.
“Why!” He demanded, although managed to keep himself polite-ish as he placed both of his fisted hands onto the trousers at his hips. He tried to calm himself down, and explain himself a little further. “You gotta tell me why you’d pick the plain chocolate cake out of all of these different deserts, and declare it your most favorite.”
Thoughts about his attitude radiating vibes of not taking the Matthews' son seriously never crossed Dexter's mind when he decided to nonchalantly shrug at his answer. He was more concerned about his casual demeanour possibly resulting in people looking down upon him. Admittedly, Dexter thought his inexperience with conversation placed him below Brendon in social grace, although, he was unaware of how difficult it was to gauge those capabilities. Everybody had different means of communication, meanwhile, he preferred to avoid it altogether whenever possible. Thus, there was something about the ballroom which felt crowded and loud despite the civil conversations occurring between adults. The conversations were business-based, however, years of unfamiliarity made it impossible for Dexter to be aware of the contrasting differences in the discussions. Although, his lack of interaction resulted in the redhead's belief that his bland answer would be plenty fine, especially since he noticed nothing special about fancier meals. The demanding outburst was unexpected, Dexter's eyes widening as he flinched. There were higher expectations, including notions such as explaining favourites.
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"We-well... I'm just... a... um... Dexter fumbled, uncertain about how to answer. "I... I just like simple stuff... Is that a problem?"
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Nervously, Dexter adjusted his collar, uncertain with his answer. The redhead's confidence over the current situation was diminishing. The introverted young man wished his family never abandoned him to participate in conversation with Brendon. How could he be trusted with something like this?! Handling the situation felt impossible for Dexter, however, choices were limited.
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Brendon Redal [break] 250 Words
a dislike for crowds and strangers, but the chocolate raspberry mousse...
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“
We-well… I’m just… a… um…,” The red haired young adult clearly tripped over his words and Brendon could see that he was growing increasingly more uncomfortable with the demanding nature of the conversation. But, still, Brendon didn’t care and wanted to know the answer. “I… I just like simple stuff… Is that a problem?”
Brendon’s amber gaze narrowed on the stranger he had been assigned to chaperone through the banquet hall this evening, and he still felt rather suspicious of his answer. He didn’t know whether to believe that Dexter was genuinely frazzled and nervous about talking to him — or if he was lying. Why would anyone take a look at a table full of all sorts of different desserts and then sound so uncertain about the plain chocolate cake and then fumble over his words when questioned on it! Liars! That’s what!
Brendon took in a deep breath and brought one fisted hand to his mouth, clearing his throat. Somehow he felt almost superior to the much taller and older male in front of him, because he was doing a much better job at being in control. With a devious smile spreading across his youthful features, Brendon placed both of his hands behind his back and returned to his “chaperoning”.
“Well, what about the beverage table?” He asked with clear delight and pompousness as he brought Dexter over to a table filled with all different sorts of beverages for the night.
There were instances where Dexter craved social capability, especially with the recent expectations being placed heavily onto his shoulders. Eventually, his family would attempt to drag him into company affairs despite his apprehensions about the entire decision. Thus, this could potentially be a practice run for the redhead's social skills, however, he felt as though he was failing the exercise. High-class individuals were always difficult to interact with from his personal experiences during those fleeting interactions sparked from recognition. Yet, this situation even broke the conventional expectations taught from the brief conversations. Unlike those business folk who fixated on company-related conversations, he was being demanded to admit his favoured cakes which were mere trivialities compared to the conversational focal points oftentimes discussed by the majority. Or... perhaps he failed to learn the formation of genuine friendships was crucial to maintain powerful connections. Each question was a mere curiosity and individuals wishing to form a relationship with the upcoming heir to the Adams' company, alas, Dexter was always hesitant about social interaction.
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Either way, he lacked social grace to form those significant connections between others, thus he felt stranded as he interacted with Brendon. When the cake conversation seemed dropped, Dexter followed behind the young boy with subtle concern cracking his expression. Things were not going well. The redhead glanced over the beverage table with wide eyes and a confused expression; he hardly knew what over half of these fancy drinks were... Why did his grandparents abandon him to be toured around by this kid?
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"Uh... I am not sure," Dexter answered awkwardly.
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Immediately after his words, the bespectacled man steeled himself for the demanding nature of the young child. These situations were beyond the redheaded heir and currently, that was on display for everybody. Was his family genuinely expecting him to fill his parent's shoes when he could hardly tell a child his favoured drink? Unfortunately, expectations were provided, which meant he would inevitably be taught about the business, which meant improving in conversation if possible...
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Brendon Redal [break] 336 Words
a dislike for crowds and strangers, but the chocolate raspberry mousse...
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A
moment of silence stretched taut in the dining hall of the Matthews estate, by the beverage table, as the little fourteen year old brunette stared with intensely bright amber eyes at the bespectacled and lithe taller form of the red haired male whom he had been assigned to chaperone. Dexter eyed the refreshment table with wary apprehension before he hesitantly answered a resounded, “Uh… I am not sure.”
Brendon was sure that he, himself, had gone pink in the face. He was so mad! Still, with another long and exaggerated intake of breath, Brendon stepped forward two sweeping footfalls in order to pick up a glass in one hand and ladle in the other — and then proceeded to pour Dexter his drink!
“Here you go,” He told the taller and older, clearly uncomfortable, male as he handed him his glass cup of refreshment while he lifted his own to his lips. “This one is a Lemon Fruit punch,” He supplied before taking a drink of the sour, tangy, and sweet goodness. He eyed the taller teenager, and when Dexter had taken a drink of the beverage as well, Brendon practically bounced in place as he asked; “Well? How would you describe this drink!”
The drink they both held was a combination of sliced lemons, strawberries, peaches, and oranges in a juice that was comprised of club soda, ginger ale, white grape juice, and lots and lots of ice.
Being escorted around by somebody younger than him felt awkward for Dexter, especially considering the kid appeared plenty more comfortable with the situation than him. It hastily became apparent to the redhead that Brendon was more prepared to handle these circumstances. His avoidance of these lavish events surrounded by wealthy individuals resulted in any minuscule of social prowess related to a professional, formal conversation being long abandoned. If everybody enjoyed video games, horror movies and various nerdier topics, perhaps he would stand a chance.
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Alas, Dexter was under the assumption that these wealthy individuals were fascinated by business-related or common life occurrences as opposed to the recent video game boss he defeated or the latest horror movie release. Common ground was nonexistent with these people. The redhead's absence in the affairs of the family business only increased his concerns further; perhaps his grandmother allowed him to be paired with a child for those reasons? Chances were, Brendon would likely avoid business-related topics.
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Yet, Dexter found his youthful company fixated on him stating his favourites followed by reasons... and already the redhead knew he was failing whatever "assignment" the kid randomly decided to give him. Honestly, the bespectacled young man was unsure if he would prefer awkwardly attempting to converse with the adults over business matters or be stuck answering Brendon's questions. Uncertainty was an incorrect answer when Brendon's face was tinted with a shade of pink, and Dexter was plenty aware it was, however, he hardly knew which drink to pick...
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After the interaction, Brendon poured him a drink, using the provided ladle to give liquid to an ice-filled cup, however, Dexter doubted the brown-haired boy was happy about it. From the beginning, their exchange was questionable at best with the redhead displaying every socially-awkward aspect in seconds; he should have stayed home...
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"Uh... thank you," Dexter said quietly, hoping to smooth things over a bit.
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The cold drink was provided alongside the name of said beverage which was 'lemon fruit punch', suggesting the concoction to be fruity. The moment after a sip flowed through his lips, the sourness accompanied by sweetness all wrapped in a strong, fruit-flavoured taste coated his taste buds.
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Unfortunately, Dexter could not escape another one of Brendon's question involving a description. An awkward flinch breached the redhead's expression as he attempted to organize his thoughts.
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"Well... it's sour and sweet... has a strong flavour. It's pretty good," Dexter answered hesitantly.
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Even before the conversation could continue, Dexter was under the impression his answer would be wrong even if based around what he tasted. Alas, he assumed it to hardly matter to the young child considering how awkward and terrible their exchange was. The redhead was uncomfortable with these formal situations, thus, the young man possessed the upper hand in this environment.
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[ Brendon is amusing me with how uncomfortable he is making Dexter. XD ]
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[attr="class","sorry_p_tagname"]Dexter Adams [break] 469 Words
Do not use drama to get attention in the chat. Nobody appreciates it.
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Be respectful to anybody who enters the chat, including guest, fellow members and staff.
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Guests may speak in chat at anytime to ask questions or get a taste of our community~!
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