[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/0PrYgED.png[/img][/center] [indent][indent][color=gray]The venue chosen for the charity event is a stark white building filled with minimalist artwork and a grand floor for dancing. It practically oozes rich modernist bullshit and Jupiter finds himself frowning over the dancefloor from the strip of balcony that runs along all four walls. The venue reminds him of European ballrooms except if European ballrooms were made by 21[sup]st[/sup] century contemporary architect assholes. Instead of the room opening up to nightsky, a skylight of glass meant to open the ballroom up acts as a barrier between the guests and the twinkling stars. Instead of the beautifully mosaic floors of Rome, Jupiter found himself standing on stark white linoleum that will undoubtedly be stained after tonight’s affair – which will come from his budget (Jupiter will throttle whoever volunteered him for this stupid ball). The sun hangs on the horizon as if it doesn’t want to miss the events of the night, peering into the venue’s ceiling-to-floor windows that face the Seattle skyline. Humans begin to mull in, hovering in clumps together with wine in their hands and gossip on their lips. It’s all very [i]mortal[/i]. No one fills the dance floor like they did in the days of old, preferring the company of alcohol and pretty words. For human standards, though, the charity event is in full swing, or that’s what Jupiter’s assistant tells him encouragingly as he scowls over the expanse of the room. Jupiter was anonymously emailed the guest list the night before, with almost every relevant god listed on there, and a stone has been sitting in his stomach since then. He hasn’t seen [i]Poseidon[/i] (the name curls in his mind like poison) since that night he left him at the curb. Of course, Jupiter had lurked until he made sure Poseidon was inside, but the choice to leave Poseidon to struggle to his feet was a heartless one. Since then, Jupiter hasn’t been feeling himself. He’s always been the surly type, quick to anger and quicker to ignore other’s problems. However, he’s started to snap more and more at his employees than he would in the past, and ignoring the beckoning of all his Roman brethren. The throne he envisions lacks a luster to it and a small, dangerous part of his brain thinks it would shine more if there was a matching one next to him of seashells and pearls. Jupiter turns his back from the floor, adjusting his suit and ignoring his inner conflict. It’s what he does best. Besides, he has an event to attend. Time to mingle with the gods and humans that congregate on the floor. [/color][/indent][/indent]