pumpkinhollow: (Default)
pumpkinhollow ([personal profile] pumpkinhollow) wrote in [community profile] ph_logs2024-09-21 10:21 pm
Entry tags:

September Event - Waltz of the Harlequin

**Plain text version here.
WALTZ OF THE HARLEQUIN
ACT ONE: MAKE AN ENTRANCE
{ CONTENT WARNINGS: None }

SCENE: Leeds Estate Ballroom, night. Music can be heard from a small string band in the corner. Enter PARTYGOERS, stage right. The estate is beautifully decorated, as it always is, in vivid blues against dark wood. Flowers made from blue and golden silk adorn the walls and furniture. Candles burn in tasteful centerpieces on the round dining tables. Delicious-looking foods can be seen on the serving tables, ready to be claimed and devoured. A member of DAHLIA’S diligent staff tends an ornate bar near the door and dancers in fine clothes twirl on the dance floor to upbeat string music.

DAHLIA can be seen in the center of the room, wearing a golden gown embroidered with roses and surrounded by her ENTOURAGE, which consists of DAISY, LAIOS, RADAR, and JEFF. All of them wear the colors of House Leeds---- blue and gold. She welcomes the PARTYGOERS warmly.


DAHLIA, going for an appropriate greeting for the person she is speaking to--- a handshake, a hug, a kiss on the cheek.
Welcome. So glad you could make it. You look ravishing. Please help yourself to something to eat, and enjoy your night.

It is a beautiful night. Formal only in appearances, the energy of the Gala is casual and light, if not a bit decadent. All seems well.
ACT TWO: ALL IS REVEALED
{ CONTENT WARNINGS: rotten food, blood, forced body transformation, unreality. }

SCENE: Leeds Estate Ballroom, one hour later. The party is well underway. When the grandfather clock chimes, it sounds strange and distorted. The sound immediately draws the attention of DAHLIA, who grows concerned. The sour chiming continues. In the center of the ballroom, a plume of sickly yellow smog bursts as if from a smoke bomb, flooding the room and causing PARTYGOERS to stagger and cough. When it fades, the environment has changed.

Enter MENDEL, from the smoke burst.

The decor in the space has changed drastically. Where once the space was deep, cool browns and shades of blue accented with gold, it is now filled with ruddy browns, jaundiced yellows, plummy purples, and searing reds. The bundles of silk flowers are replaced with bouquets of decaying fishing nets, bloody gauze, and rotten fruit which seems to bloom from splitting bruises. Tattered swags in mismatched patterns line the walls, and each PARTYGOER is now in a masquerade mask designed to fit with their outfit.


DAHLIA, lightly panicked.
What are you doing here?

MENDEL, laughing raucously.
Surprise! Oh, I do so hate to cut in, but I simply could not go another year without doing something special for my favorite niece.

He wraps his arms, which look like graying, exposed meat, around DAHLIA.

MENDEL
You see, everyone---- Darling Dahlia here has been lying to you. Her whole life, even! Can you believe it? You see, her father was never Japhet Leeds. The man couldn’t stand her! Jane Leeds was still her mother, oh yes, but her father---

DAHLIA attempts to cut in, but MENDEL grips her tighter, clamping a hand over her mouth as he presents her to the crowd. His claws dig into her arm and her cheek. He continues to snicker as he speaks, and DAHLIA struggles.

MENDEL
Her father is my own baby brother, Prince Aster of the Dark Feast! Isn’t that a funny prank? But I think the joke has overstayed its welcome. It’s time to show your little friends who you really are, isn’t it, princess?

In a swift motion, MENDEL pulls DAHLIA into a twirl, as if dancing, sending her spinning toward the crowd. When it ceases, DAHLIA stands before her gala, changed. Her complexion is blue now, and her hair, raven black. A pair of bat-like wings adorn her back, and a crown of antlers like that of a deer wreath her head.

MENDEL
Ah, no, that’s not quite what I was going for. Let me try again.

With a snap of MENDEL’S fingers, DAHLIA changes again, her body shifting against her will. Her well-kept black locks morph into wiry ashen hair which covers her body. Her face extends into that of a cow-like skull with sharp teeth. Her hands become clawed, and her feet become cloven hooves. Before the crowd now stands THE PINE DEVIL.

MENDEL
There’s our birthday girl!

THE PINE DEVIL (DAHLIA) attempts to lunge at MENDEL, but with another snap of his fingers, his streamers and swags lash out at her like vines and lash her tightly.

MENDEL
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some catching up to do with my darling niece. And you all have a party to enjoy! I leave you in the care of my talented assistants.

He starts to turn away, but then holds up a finger to shake and turns back. Oh, one more thing, I almost forgot. I’ve left all of you some party favors in those masks. Have fun!

MENDEL grabs a bound and helpless DAHLIA and disappears once more in another plume of smoke.

Enter BLANCHE and SEEMINGLY (GLEE MASK), opposite sides of the stage. The pair of them meet eyes, and pantomime tugging on an invisible rope in opposite directions, and suddenly the ballroom expands as if unrolled like a scroll, becoming a sprawling labyrinth of tiny ballrooms, winding corridors, and secret alcoves. The PARTYGOERS are separated from one another. At the same time, the magic in their masks activates, inflicting one of the following curses:
  • Leaky Bucket: deprives the party goer of their short-term memory. They know who they are, and why they're here insofar as understanding it's Dahlia's birthday gala, but all new information tends to leave their mind after a few minutes. (Think Dory from Finding Nemo.)
  • Amnesiac's Lament: deprives the individual of long-term memory. All new information is retained, but they have no idea who they are or why they're here. How distressing this is can be at the player's discretion. Perhaps they despair at the memory loss and are trying to find a way to escape the ball, perhaps they don't see anything wrong with their lack of context and are just trying to enjoy this weird party.
  • False Friend: the opposite of Zone of Truth, those with this affliction will be unable to tell the truth and can ONLY tell lies. Any fact from the most mundane to the most complex can only be lied about. Whether or not the person is cognizant of their new habit is the player's choice.
  • The World Revolving: those afflicted suffer frequent bouts of vertigo which makes the space feel as though it is spinning, sometimes very slowly, sometimes very quickly.
  • Dirge of Delusion: this particular curse will cause the mask-wearer to struggle to perceive reality correctly. Objects will appear as other objects, people as different people, rooms as some other place, or even the entire ball as somewhere entirely different. These disorienting visions will come and go at times.
  • Feeling Funny: the wearers of these masks will find that their emotions are completely out of control, sometimes bursting into fits of laughter, tears, or abrupt paranoia, before going completely numb for a while.
All PARTYGOERS will find their masks incapable of being removed. Those with infernal resistance from NEIL or the HOUSE OF CARDS will find their masks are less impactful, but the resistance is imperfect. However, ALICE DYER and SAMAMA KHALID will find that they have absolutely no effect from the masks at all, due to the BOON OF DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY acquired by ALICE.

The party resumes.
ACT THREE: Dance with the Devil
{ CONTENT WARNINGS: rotten food being eaten, imprisonment, impending violence }

SCENE: a distorted Leeds Estate, time unknown. As the party devolves into chaos, a clandestine meeting is arranged to locate the host. Somewhere in the distorted estate, ALICE locates JEAN. Once she gets the Golden Wolf Mask in their hands, JEAN will be able to remove their current mask to wear the new one, which has a unique effect---- the ability to see the path of MENDEL through its eyes.

JEAN and ALICE, along with anyone they are able to recruit for help, will find MENDEL and DAHLIA on the second floor, which has transformed into a large theater balcony overlooking the party. DAHLIA is caged, and MENDEL seems to be enjoying the view as he eats half-rotten tomatoes as if they are apples.

MENDEL’S assailants choose how to make their approach. When he is destroyed, the party will end.

GRAND FINALE
{ CONTENT WARNINGS: fire }

SCENE: Leeds Estate ballroom, late night. The stage has returned to its prior state, and we are left to the aftermath. When MENDEL is at last destroyed, the ballroom is restored to its normal size and coloration, as if the events of the night never occurred. Masks fall away, and DAHLIA stands center stage, looking exactly as her friends and neighbors remember her. However, the memory of what has occurred here tonight cannot be wiped away, as evidenced from all the onlookers around her. Are their expressions concerned? Angry? Fearful? Hurt?

Does it matter?


DAHLIA, quietly.
Get out.

There is a moment of stillness and consideration, before she speaks again, louder.

DAHLIA, shouting.
GET. OUT.

As she speaks the second word, a massive burst of blue flame erupts behind her. Glass breaks. Tables topple. DAHLIA’s hair flutters in the force of the blast. She stands stiffly, unafraid as the hot, raging blue flames consume her ballroom, peeling the wallpaper and cracking the wood. She means to chase everyone out, even if it means bringing the room down upon herself.

When everyone is gone, the flames seem to retreat, as if sucked up into their original blast point. DAHLIA, spent, collapses to her knees in the burnt shell of her own birthday party, and sobs.

Blackout. Curtains fall.

After the event ends, Dahlia will be absent from town and her home only open to close CR until further notice. She will not be answering her sending stone or her phone calls.
restingslasherface: (Default)

Agent Jean

[personal profile] restingslasherface 2024-09-22 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
Jean is, at long last, in the fit from their icon. Like with the Page of Kora's Avatar, the sword is part of the outfit, and they have it peacebonded thoroughly at their back where even drawing the blade would be extremely annoying. They still are not aware that this peacebond does less than nothing.
theydrewfirstblood: (eye candy{ waiting for a miracle)

John Rambo

[personal profile] theydrewfirstblood 2024-09-22 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
John arrives at the gala dressed as befitting a man with a date and a knight of Land and Spring: a black tuxedo with deep green accents that compliment the green glass talisman of Serranai. Tonight, the leather thing it hangs from has been cinched up a little, and hangs against his shirt in lieu of a tie, the top of his collar just left open so it sits more comfortably against his chest and looks less awkward.
restingslasherface: (Default)

Agent Jean

[personal profile] restingslasherface 2024-09-22 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
The Page Of Nikolai | Make An Entrance

Jean has become a more confident person since the last gala, though the crowd is still a little intimidating to them, as is their keen awareness of their awkward position. They are known, well-known, as a staunch ally to Doctor West, and yet Jean has also been the face of outreach, both to the community and to Dahlia Specifically, seeking out her cooperation on projects and giving a lot of way to show respect for her position in the community. Now they're here again, head full of suspicions, and they could not be more happy that Manager Kora had managed to secure their most comfortable outfit for them.

The nugget in Cobalt Scar is one thing. Jean in the Page of Nikolai is another; no nervousness on their face, walking with a smooth predator's gait, eyes wide and attentive. They arrive with Zelda and with Link, and they're hoping, against all odds, to have a pretty good time, even if they suspect it won't last.

It Doesn't Last | All Is Revealed

Is it the prior battle that has Mendel place an absurd clown mask on Jean's face, the lenses of its eyes spinning and swirling, making the world lurch and whirl? Maybe. Maybe it was just random chance. Jean is no slouch when it comes to resisting mental attacks, and Doctor West's gift is certainly helpful, but any sharp or sudden movements are extremely impossible right now. After their first attempt to tear the mask away, Jean abandons it in favor of clapping their hand against someone's arm. It might even be yours.

They're...

...Meditating.

The peacebond is falling away from that sword. Alice Dyer needs to find them soon, before they go for the attack without what she's been charged to provide.

The Role of the Wolf | Dance With The Devil

That's better.

That's so much better.

Jean does not trust the blue blade that has been placed in their hand, a near-perfect imitation of the overlong saber in their other hand. They do not trust this mask that seems to let them see through the illusions. But they've willingly used tools they trust less, and they have a promise to keep. They suck in a ragged breath, see the path...

It's a path that could be improved. The first thing they do is fish a whistle from around their neck, something they have been wearing since it was given to them, not even taking it off to sleep or to make love. It became part of their daily routine and was never brought up, or mentioned; indeed, perhaps only the crew of Mipha's Grace truly understands that they own it at all. It is this whistle that Jean blows, loud and shrill, to signal to Lord Erik Osborne that Jean needs his help, that the vow which was given is being called in. Jean spits the whistle from their mouth (it falls against their chest, unheeded), and calls out: "Get the combat team on the demons. Watch out for the masked one, it's tricky."

The next step is, perhaps, more of a gamble, but one Jean is extremely comfortable making. Link of Hyrule may or may not have Jean's experience in resisting mental influence, but what Link does have, which Jean knows about, is the respect of a Wolf. They slip through, around, over partygoers, bouncing off of shoulders with surprising strength, light as a feather and hard as a hammer, and from the depths of their suit jacket they retrieve a familiar pair of gloves, and toss them to the Hero of the Wild.

They can't stop. Link will have to protect Zelda. Jean makes a beeline directly for Mendel, death in their eyes, the old slasher-face grin seared into their expression. They won't be stopped. Not by confused friends, not by misguided enemies, not by anyone. One more body for the pile is no great thing.

[OOC Note: In the interest of my sanity I'd like no more than three unrelated obstacles/interruptions on the way to Mendel. One of those slots is reserved for Valdis as of prior plotting. The Grand Finale prompt will be a separate TL; gotta figure out how the fight goes first!]

theydrewfirstblood: (face{ listening)

John Rambo | Open

[personal profile] theydrewfirstblood 2024-09-22 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
Act One

John is—well, terrified. Give him a beast, a soldier, a killer, a monster and he’ll thrive. This?

A date?

He’s not ready.

Still, John arrives at the gala, his knife tucked at the small of his back under his frock coat, and tries not to worry at the sleeve rubbing his bandage. He was fitted for his suit with his injury factored in so it’s not too tight, but he’s only covering it when he has to. Too much chafing and it starts to seep.

The minute he walks through the door, the amount of people…

His heart is racing when Dahlia Leeds greets him, and he knows he can’t take it. Stealing a glance at Radar and at Laios (who looks incredible, holy shit) helps a little—enough that he covers by stepping back to offer the most gallant bow he can manage, and when he straightens follows with a loose, but flawless salute.

“Since I don’t, uh—have my usual dress uniform tonight.” He explains. “I’m military back home—anyway. Thank you for having me, Miss Leeds. ‘Preciate the invitation.”

INTERMISSION

Laios is his date, but they still have to talk about a few things—like the fact that John isn’t his only date and okay with it. So, he just gives Laios room to mingle, spend time with Miss Leeds and others.

He can’t eat the food, though. Can’t drink a drop…and he doesn’t think he can handle dancing, not around all the bodies he might brush against…

Basically John is a wallflower. Someone come save him, besides his date.

Act Two

He blinks, confused and a little uncertain. He’s not sure what’s going on…

…a party? He looks down at himself and is startled again. Shit, this is fancy. His arm is kind of sore, too, and something is digging into his back.

He reaches up to his face. He’s got a mask on…costume party of some kind? Okay.

Shedding his frock coat, he rolls up his sleeves, noticing the bandage on his arm. He reaches for the uncomfortable press at his back…and pulls out a knife sheath containing a big knife.

He has no idea what’s going on, why he has a knife, or what this party is about.

He doesn’t get really worried until he realizes, with a start, that he doesn’t even know his own name.

[John has been hit with Amnesiac’s Lament! Wanna know what he’s like without the trauma? Come say hi.]

Finale

When the mask falls from his face, John remembers. Every moment, every note—every second of the freedom he just had. He mourns it…

But seeing Dahlia kick them out—then try to scare them away?

He’s not sure if anyone else lingers, but he does. He just stares up at her, posture loose, lips parted, unresponsive to the fire around him. His breathing and pulse are steady as a rock, and he makes no move for his knife.

Because he knows Laios, and he knows Laios is, apparently, with her or at least close to her. He knows Laios, knows how Laios sees him…

And knowing what she is now, understands why Laios sees him that way.

If Laios isn’t afraid of John, then John can’t be afraid of her.

So he just moves to locate his coat, looks up one more time…

…and walks, doesn’t run, for the exit.
Edited 2024-09-22 16:18 (UTC)
somebodychildofanyone: (Default)

River la Croix

[personal profile] somebodychildofanyone 2024-09-22 04:55 am (UTC)(link)
[OOC Note: There's only one general prompt on here and then a closed one, because to be quite frank I need to focus on Jean for this event. You can assume that when River gets hit with Dirge of Delusion, she turns her spells of sensory deprivation on herself and hunkers down to wait everything out, in the perhaps-correct hope that if she opts out of Mendel's game entirely he'll seek more amusing prey. Less...pyromaniacal prey.]

Bittersweet Celebrations | Make an Entrance

River enters the party on Erik's arm, killing it in a gorgeous sleeveless dress from Dahlia's collection, incongruously still wearing her heavy boots that do not go with it at all. She cuts a striking figure, her burning arms visible even across the dance floor, but while she's genuinely happy to be here, even giddy at her recent good news...there's a sadness too. She attended this party the first time with Annabelle, and Annabelle...is gone.

She's gone.

Still, River's trying to have a good time. Have a dance, maybe? Bring her a drink she doesn't have to go get herself and it's worth a conversation at least.

Somebody, Child Of Anyone | Grand Finale | Closed to Dahlia

River obeys Dahlia's order to leave, without comment and without complaint. But she doesn't go home. She lets Erik know not to wait up for her, asks his help in getting to the front gate, where she exits Dahlia's property.

Barely.

Pumpkin Hollow's resident necromancer slumps against the outside of the fence and scratches familiar sigils into the dirt around her, creating a half-circle of burning runes that warm the air near her. River sets her head against the fence and gets as comfortable as she can, exhausted by the stress of the night, and she goes to sleep.

She'll wait.

She'll wait as long as she has to, for her friend to invite her inside. Sending stone messages get assurances that she's fine, or requests for food or water, and not much else. The forge goes untended by its master, left to her apprentices to manage in the meantime. River is waiting, and she does not intend to be denied.
abhorrently: (yet.)

fever.

[personal profile] abhorrently 2024-09-22 04:55 am (UTC)(link)
Fever arrives in a gown with matching cape, her usual circlet on her brow. Matching the colors of House Leeds is unintended, but a welcome coincidence.
Edited 2024-09-22 04:56 (UTC)
gruesomegourmand: ([Joy] happy chatting 2)

[personal profile] gruesomegourmand 2024-09-22 05:23 am (UTC)(link)
Laios, in a gift from Dahlia, arrives in a set of ceremonial gold armor, with a deep blue cape flowing over his shoulders and behind his back. A gold laurel headpiece circles around the back of his head, ending just above his temples.
abhorrently: (journey.)

fever, ota.

[personal profile] abhorrently 2024-09-22 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
act one. -🌹🌙🌹

After everything that's happened recently, every upheaval, Fever can't shake feelings at this point in time. Getting arrayed and ready for the event, she makes sure the amber dagger is within reach, grateful for custom work to make it simpler to holster and hide. And so far, nothing has yet befallen the crowd. Maybe it's something lingering from something never in existence, the ghost of a dream. Maybe it's the lingering echoes of feeling turned inside out by what has occurred. So, she shelves the misgivings, and takes to dancing instead, a shimmering night sky weaving through the other dancers. Staying in motion lets her watch the room better, after all, and there's plenty of people to dance with. Maybe she'll catch you on the way out of one round.

It'll be a rarer moment to catch her against the wall taking a break, hand holding a glass she's sipping from in minute amounts. So far, so good, and she's remembering to smile. The time is meant to be lived in, after all.

act two. -💀👁️💀

That's more like it. The estate distorts, changes, and the silver mask on her face throws a haze over her thoughts, spinning reality up like so much mismatched thread. Concentrate. Breathe with it. She's not going to stay still here, and instead moves on impulse, starting to look for those who seem lost and confused. There's not much to fight, but the world is chaotic, shifting its borders, and she stumbles hard at times to make out what's going on.

Resistance won't help, she knows. The only way out is through. And in this time, that's what Fever can offer, instead of a knife. She looks for friends, yes, but also the truly incapacitated. The ones who can't understand what's going on, who are frightened or overwhelmed by their new visions. And those are the people she approaches, hands shown. No weapons.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?"

act three. -⚡💫⚡

Still, being able to move through it doesn't mean she's immune to what madness does to her. The doors change position, and then back, and she walks into a wall - or this is not the Leeds Estate, but the revolting heart of the mind flayer colony, or her hands are not her own. And some people get stared at like they're the walking dead, and some get leapt away from while she tries to piece out what they want. She might come back with a spell clutched in her grip, or with the dagger held so tightly her knuckles are white.

"Remind me where we are."

It's a request, in those moments, trying to tear herself free of the endless abyss in her head, because this mask isn't making it easier to handle. Louder, louder, the drums beat on. And a few might get her head snapping to them, and a panicked expression.

"...get away. Now."

wildcard.

[have another idea? throw it at me or request something custom.]
incomingchoppers: (no sir i'm not being smug sir)

Radar O'Reilly

[personal profile] incomingchoppers 2024-09-22 01:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Gifted from Dahlia, Radar shows up in a blue military-esque outfit with gold trim. He's added a matching cap that's a step above his usual slightly-scraggly newsboy cap, plus a white silk scarf that's as close as he can get to his lucky paratrooper scarf back home.

These are the nicest clothes anybody has ever seen him in, and he knows he looks good. 😏
thethirteenthchild: (sad: dreary)

Somebody, who loves me.

[personal profile] thethirteenthchild 2024-09-22 02:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Dahlia appears after a long while, nearly a day and a half after the fact, having spotted River's bright ass red hair from the window.

She looks bedraggled. She hasn't taken care of her hair, which is usually immaculate, and she's wearing only her night clothes and a massive blanket like a cloak. She lingers at the door, which is close enough to the gate to be heard, her voice hoarse and dry.

"What are you doing."
blindwatchersees: (pic#16611376)

Sheogorath | CW: dismemberment, unsanitary mention, eating rotten food, disembowelment mention

[personal profile] blindwatchersees 2024-09-22 02:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Act One

This is the first time Sheogorath has been out in his usual splendor. He’s dressed in an artful mismatch of a tailcoat and close-fitted slacks, the whole thing an outfit-shaped tapestry of purple satin and gold embroidery. It’s a setting-appropriate variation of what he typically wears back home. The mask he wears resembles what many consider to be his symbol, three faces as one- one laughing in glee, one crying in anguish, and one screaming with unbridled fury. He’s followed everywhere by his entourage of butterflies, and it’s clear that the only person who would be feeling more in their element than this would be the Daedric Prince of Parties himself.


Act Two

What is a Madgod to think about this all? True, it is a scene of madness, but it is a single-faced realization of his sphere, madness as pain and torment alone. It’s a mockery. But does he not delight in mockery, especially of himself?

His opinion solidifies and shatters at once when the mask’s magic comes online, for he knows at once that his moods are being messed with, and only Sheogorath may afflict Sheogorath so. The three faces he wore now take turns taking up the whole of the mask, and with each one comes chaos:

The smiling face seeks delight without measure. It jokes at inappropriate times, it shrugs off serious matters, it indulges self-destructively. And it encourages others to let go of their inhibitions, for good or for ill.

The weeping face is panicked and inconsolable. It believes the sky is falling. It laments what it has lost, and obsesses over what it does not have. It incites panic and grief, in itself and others.

The screaming face has no reason to stay its hand. It lashes out, in primal rage and cold-blooded murderous intent. It rips out entrails for the laughing to garb themselves in and the weeping to recoil from.

Beyond these things come more general acts of an unfettered will. He throws rotting fruits at people, and crams them into his own face. He paints the walls with whatever filth he’s gotten on his hands. He knocks things from shelves, he screams profanities and blasphemes the names of every otherworldly being he can think of.

Through all of this, despite seemingly having been loosed to be the fullness of his terrible self, there is a little part of him who knows he is not truly free. That little caterpillar struggles against the crushing weight of Mendel’s curse, and utters one very focused, earnest curse against him and his court.

The growing vines on his walking cane that have been slowly creeping their way up its length over the past months grow a little more as he wanders, visibly, and the bud forming at its end finally begins to open, partially revealing the eye within.
Edited 2024-09-22 14:58 (UTC)
hadnoright: (Default)

Daisy

[personal profile] hadnoright 2024-09-22 03:21 pm (UTC)(link)

Gifted by Dahlia, Daisy's wearing a gold dress with accessories, and has her hair up in a low twisted bun.

closureisformovies: (Default)

Alice

[personal profile] closureisformovies 2024-09-22 03:26 pm (UTC)(link)

Alice is in a really extravagant white and blue dress that she in no way seems to know how to move in, but she's doing her best. It was a gift from Aster, which doesn't help her apparent discomfort.

closureisformovies: (scared)

Alice Dyer | OTA

[personal profile] closureisformovies 2024-09-22 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)

Act One

Alice is barely hiding her nerves.

The dress she's wearing is as big and layered as it is gorgeous on her, perfectly fitted to work with her body and far fancier than anything Alice has ever worn in her life. Moving around in it is... a challenge, if in part because of the large sword she has stashed under the skirt.

(She'd enjoy it more if she didn't. If she hadn't walked into her apartment and found this heap of material waiting for her with a note. Christ, she feels sick if she thinks about it too hard.)

Nervous anticipation turns her into a wallflower in a way she usually isn't. She smiles at people, even chatters and jokes, but it's hard to get her away from the sidelines and people might even be asked to bring her drinks or food because, "Frankly, mate, I'm scared I'm gonna trip on my face."

Every now and then, her gaze flicks uncomfortably to Dahlia.

This is going to be a long night.

Act Two / Three

The big reveal is no surprise to Alice, of course. Aster already told her enough and she cares little about the unveiling of the local cannibalistic predator in comparison to the nightmare ahead.

The masks do nothing to her. Her head is as clear as it's ever been, despite the inevitable consequences of Sam's own clarity, and she has a job to do.

Time to find Jean.

[For my own sanity, I'd rather only one or two people get in her way as she heads to find Jean!]

spaghettification: (Default)

Siebren

[personal profile] spaghettification 2024-09-22 04:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Siebren is in a very nice rented suit (without the violin armor--after all, this is a party, why would there by violince?) and he's even deigned to wear shoes for the occasion.
somebodychildofanyone: (pic#16676544)

[personal profile] somebodychildofanyone 2024-09-22 04:08 pm (UTC)(link)
River stands, with a groan (her back pops like a fucking gunshot, which briefly arrests her motion entirely) and turns to rest her forehead against the fence. She is very much not looking her best either; soaked through with sweat, hair plastered against her forehead and her neck, ears drooping in stress and sorrow. She wraps a hand around one of the poles of the fence.

"Waiting," River answers. "Praying, some. Belatedly realizing I'm going to need to trigger these sigils to get rid of them. But mostly, waiting for my friend to invite me in."
spaghettification: (eyebrow)

Dr. Siebren de Kuiper

[personal profile] spaghettification 2024-09-22 04:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Anitra's Dance [Act One]
Siebren is nervous at the best of parties, but he's determined to enjoy as much of this night as he can. Dancing? He can do that. He wants to do that, both with his nearest and dearest, and with anyone who seems to have the vaguest sense of rhythm and a spark of delight in their hearts. Light on his feet to the point of floating, he'll bring dance partners with him above the crowd if they like.


In the Hall of the Mountain King [Act Two; Feeling Funny]
Perhaps Siebren's lucky, that he doesn't end up with the memory-screws or delusions. But those would be more familiar horrors than for everything to be turned up to eleven as suddenly as it is. His immediate reaction is a blinding rage as he realizes his mind is being fucked with again, and he lets out a horrifying scream, a sound that doesn't seem human in nature.

Later on, one might find him weeping, despondent, lying in a pile on the ground. Too broken to float, or even sit up. And later, still, his rented suit stained with blood, he'll be found in a corner, manic--his eyes wide, breath catching on the edges of his laughter as it teeters ever closer to a panic attack.


Dance of the Mountain King's Daughter [The Death of Blanche; Closed to Blanche]
It is at the height of his rage that Siebren sees Blanche, and with the clarity of madness he recognizes her. Not just as the demon she is, but as what she represents. The mind folding, thoughts being buried or burned to ash, a moment of revelation or inspiration that flashes and then dims to nothing but the vague certainty that something was there.

Siebren sees her, and he hates her.

"Jij, demonbroed. Kom hierheen!"
liesdontfindyou: (Default)

CT

[personal profile] liesdontfindyou 2024-09-22 06:06 pm (UTC)(link)

CT is wearing a fairly simple but elegant dress, with the long side of her hair braided.

thethirteenthchild: (neutral: spooky)

[personal profile] thethirteenthchild 2024-09-22 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)
"To what end?" The question isn't hostile, but she sounds far away. "What business could you have here?"
somebodychildofanyone: (pic#16676544)

[personal profile] somebodychildofanyone 2024-09-22 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
"From the looks of things, pushing you under a bath and shaking really hard, for starters." There's a ghostly little smile, distant and sad. "...You are my business, Dahlia. Sure, maybe we gotta talk, but not before I help out. C'mon. Let me in."
misbegottendreamer: Dagoth Icon (Default)

Drelasa Veloth | Dirge of Delusion (cw: cannibalism, self-harm, distorted perceptions)

[personal profile] misbegottendreamer 2024-09-22 06:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Act One

She is House Dagoth in its splendor, dressed in the reds, golds, and blacks of her kin and her name. It's not unlike a Hanfu gown, the dress itself patterned with golden willow flowers, and the stole embroidered with the Scarab. Newly-forged bells jingle from the hem of her sleeves, and along rows across the front of her bodice- they are dark-forged metal and sound beautifully, formed in fires fed by her songs and blessings.

She has a new mask, too, fashioned to look like it was made of gold. It covers the upper half of her face, while the lower half is open, leaving her flutes unbound and uncovered. After many months of Siebren's love and Imbros' council, she's finally ready to present this side of herself to the world.


Act Two

She is House Dagoth in its splendor, Red Mountain reborn, dressed in the reds, golds, and blacks of the House Unmourned. She wanders the halls of this lie-place, knowing that she alone can see the fullness of the falsehoods for what they really are. Whenever she comes across someone, she offers them succor.

"Come," she says, offering a hand and gazing at them through the three eyes of her full-faced, golden mask. "Come, lay down your burdens, and let me give you rest. Let me free you from this false world, rescue you from the whims of the ones who would have you suffer."

Those who listen, those who submit to her song, will find the unpleasantness of the party swept away, and she will guide them to a place she has prepared, laden with sumptuous food and drink. They do not notice that the goblets smell of blood and sore-water, or that the meat has bits of gray skin upon it and an ashen taste to it, or that their gracious host seems to be missing chunks of flesh from her arm. No, this is the finest of drink, and the choicest cuts, and here they will be safe, and provided for.
thelatechrisfreeman: (makeup (PB))

Bittersweet Celebrations

[personal profile] thelatechrisfreeman 2024-09-22 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Eventually, as the party goes on, Chris seeks out River. They have two drinks in hand, and offer one glass to her.

"Hello, River. I hope you're well?"
somebodychildofanyone: (pic#16676544)

[personal profile] somebodychildofanyone 2024-09-22 07:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'm doing weird," she answers, as she accepts the drink. "...It's a weird place for me to be right now. But I wouldn't be anywhere else...you?"

Page 1 of 58