Caliban | Why did you not make me of steel (andstone) wrote in rooms,
Study, near the back
Parties, festivities, they were not the sort of thing that Caliban felt inclined to partake of very often. He was not a social creature by nature (whatever nature that was), and preferred a solitary existence much more than anything else. But still, certain concessions had to be made and there was a nagging thought deep within the patchworked pieces of his body that told him that attending the festivities would be in his best interest.
He dressed in the dark colours he was fond of, burgundy and black, a spot of gray in the vest beneath his coat. The colours were ideal for blending in, for not drawing attention to himself. A glass of spirits was held in one hand, something he did only to appear more natural for he did not imbibe, and Caliban the monster found a place near the back of the study to watch the theatrics that were performed in front of that most impressive of maps.
There were no gasps from him, no moments that had him startling like some of the other guests might have. He stood quietly, stonelike, and watched as maidens swooned and boys were eaten, fake blood spattered about like fine art. If he spent the evening by himself, so be it. It was not likely he would be the sort of company most would enjoy, after all.