September Event - Guest Appearances

[pumpkinhollow]

GUEST APPEARANCES

Ignition

September 20th is the Autumnal Equinox. Many places across the world of Concorde celebrate the first day of fall. While various nations and regions have their own cultural practices surrounding it, nature is god everywhere. And so the inception of Mother Autumn’s domain is universally recognized, even if the names change from place to place. But on a little island named Marrow, in a little town called Pumpkin Hollow, there is another reason to celebrate.

The birth of Dahlia Leeds is not so important an event that it supersedes Celestine herself, and neither Dahlia nor anyone in town is foolhardy enough to claim as much. In fact, after the events on this very same day last year, one might argue that perhaps her birth at least started out as a bad thing. But she is certainly the wealthiest person in town. It is through the combination of substantial wealth and a generous heart, two things that are very seldom found in the same place, that we end up with a soiree where the birthday girl would rather spoil everyone else on her day than herself.

The doors to Leeds Estate, which presides proudly over the town upon its throne at the crest of Founder’s Hill, are flung wide open. Large sums of Brass are paid to caterers, florists, and seamstresses to make sure this place is decorated to the nines. Some businesses labor all year, just to prepare for the handsome payoff they’ll get from this event alone. And you, dear neighbor, are invited. Not only are you invited, but you are dressed for the event in whatever your heart desires, completely at the birthday girl’s expense. Dahlia ensures no cost nor conflict stands in between anyone in town and a much-needed break. She is determined for this birthday of hers to be a good night.

Or else.

Incipience

{ The timeframe between ignition and the peak of burning, where a small, contained fire spreads and grows gradually into an established flame. All it takes is a spark. }

The whole town is abuzz as preparations for the gala begin. From the moment people begin to wake up for the day, the air throughout Pumpkin Hollow just feels electric with excitement. After August, people have been needing this lift in morale, and after how last year’s gala went… well, there’s a lot riding on this one. And Dahlia seems much more in control now.

Speaking of being in control, the whole lead-up process has been incredibly organized. You wake up to a delivery--- your outfit, perfectly tailored and completely paid for. Accessories are included. She truly thought of everything.

It’s noteworthy that Dahlia’s invitations this time included another name beneath her own. “Suzanne Marie Dyneax,” it said. Most people don’t know the name, but gossip gets around in a small town like this. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that this probably refers to Susie, one of the teenagers that Dahlia recently moved into her home, whose own birthday was ruined by Seemingly’s attack. Gift baskets have been delivered to others whose days were in proximity to the disaster--- Zivia, Capochin, even CT. Wine, fruit, and sweets, along with a birthday card. Dahlia has said in the past, “my birthday is your birthday,” but never has that felt more true.

With businesses mostly closed for the celebration, you are left with the majority of the day to prepare in relative peace. For many of the women in Dahlia’s inner circle, there is even a pre-party group dressing room set up on the third floor of her home. Only those who received her special invitation (Susie, Noelle, Fever, Cassandra, Anya, Alice, Patty, Melanie, Basira, Elsie) are permitted to join, but any friends or partners are gladly invited to wait at the bottom of the stairs for the girls to make their grand entrance.

The food is laid out, flowers placed, dresses laced and buttoned. The clock strikes 6pm, and the fun begins.

FLASHOVER

{ The moment when a blaze reaches its maximum size and heat, and the radiant heat in the space is such that all combustible materials ignite at once, allowing the flame to steadily and freely burn for the rest of the night. }

By the time it reaches 6:15, the ballroom is already flooded with eager dancers and hungry dinner guests. After all, the whole town is invited, and everyone’s excited to see Dahlia’s beautiful new ballroom and take a load off.

The music is elegant, played by a rotating cast of musicians who join the party when their act is over. The food is extravagant--- Dahlia and two of her partners are some of the biggest foodies in town, so this is expected. There is talking and laughing and the swirling of ballgowns, and all is well.

But there is a guest you do not recognize in the corner of the ballroom. An older man with white hair, strong features, and a dour expression. You can see Dahlia eyeing him, then flitting over to him, then talking to him. Her expression shifts from anxious, to annoyed, to resigned, before at last she sighs heavily and leaves him to it. Whatever it is that’s going on, clearly it’s something Dahlia is willing to begrudgingly tolerate in order to get back to having fun.

The reason for the disturbance becomes clear in short order, but by the grace of Celestine (and perhaps Eligos), it isn’t a reality bending nightmare or an attack by some monstrous beings. It is simply more guests.

A lot more, in fact.

Those who were on the island in September of the previous year will recall the Visitor’s Center, which appeared briefly just past the beach and served as temporary living and meeting quarters for visitors from the homeworlds of current residents. It would seem that this is a repeat incident. For the night of the gala, one to two “plus ones” have been invited for the vast majority of offworld residents. Most of them are friends or family who are happy to see their guests--- but this is ultimately a working of Eligos, so naturally, this is not always the case.

At the very least, Eligos seems to have been generous with his own granddaughter. As she turns away from him, she very nearly runs into someone much shorter than her. A dark haired human man with dwarfism. He laughs at the accident, grinning up at her as she stares back at him, utterly baffled. Then, petticoats billowing out, Dahlia sinks to the floor and embraces him as tight as she can, head pressed to his chest with little regard for her carefully-styled hair. Even those across the room can hear her shout his name. ”Jonah!”

Within the hour, the ballroom is packed with nearly double the people originally expected, turning the party livelier than it’s ever been. Tearful reunions, laughter, dancing, mischief, romance, sparring, cruelty, and even proper, righteous violence. Truly, this Leeds Gala will be one for the books!

--------
[ OOC reminders: each apped-in player character is entitled to one or two guests from their homeworld. This can be former selves, family, friends, enemies, and they do not have to be from the character’s exact canonpoint. They can be from the past or the future. You may play them yourself, ask another member player to do it, or recruit a non-member player to do so with moderator approval. Non-member players are permitted to join the Discord server while they’re active in this event! Threads you write for your own guests are eligible for AC for the character they’re there with, and threads you write for someone else’s guest can be used on the AC of a character of your choice. Just make sure to mark them as guest threads. After the gala, guests will be allowed to move freely about town, stay the night on Saturday and go home Sunday, or leave right after the gala if preferred. And last but not least, characters played in the gala can be apped directly from this event, rather than going through the normal arrival process. Let a mod know if you have questions, and have fun! ]

Smoldering

{ The decay of a flame as available heat, oxygen, and burning material gradually diminish. Eventually, the flames will recede entirely into glowing embers, glittering like orange starlight amid the ashes of what once was. }

The party rages well into the night. It’s not typical for residents of Pumpkin Hollow to stay out this late, with everything around here that goes bump in the night, but eventually party-goers begin to find their way out. They move in small groups, huddled around lanterns, may they ever stay lit. Perhaps the surprising bit is that their guests can go with them. There are even reservations made for board overnight at the Oak & Iron, all under the name “E. Rex”.

But alas, these reservations are only booked for one night. And by the time the sun begins to set on the darker half of the year for the first time, an unfamiliar black boat is moored at Jack's Marina. One that the guests will recognize as the vessel on which they arrived. They must leave by the time it becomes dark.

Or must they? Perhaps for a select few, they will fail to feel the call which draws them home. It is unclear why. There are many that Mortanne would have allowed residency for, if she could. But for some reason, all but a small few feel the pull. Perhaps Eligos has simply abandoned them here. (Or maybe none at all end up marooned and everyone goes home? That all depends on you, dear reader.)

When the sky goes dark, the aptly named Heavy Heart shoves off, with only her crimson sails hanging suspended seemingly in midair in the moonlight. The black ship is otherwise consumed by the night. And soon, even those flashes of red vanish into the distance.

Moments recede into memories, like a dying fire settles gently into glowing embers at the bottom of a hearth. The festivities are over, and the guests are gone. Life in Pumpkin Hollow resumes as before. But maybe just a little warmer and brighter.

“My birthday is your birthday,” as Dahlia often says.

Happy birthday.

References to the appearance of Leeds Estate can be found here!

Comments

QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/CONCERNS

[pumpkinhollow]

Fit Check

[pumpkinhollow]

Post a link to an image of your outfits! For size concerns, please just do text links or make it collapsible, thanks!

Re: Fit Check

[thethirteenthchild]

Here's a link to literally all of mine, with names for reference! Includes Patty and Susie also since I helped shop for them. <3 They're in alphabetical order.

Dahlia's Drive-Thru

[thethirteenthchild]

Want to just do a quick drive-by or a super short “happy birthday” thread? For the first half hour or so of the gala, Dahlia can be found in the entry foyer, directing traffic toward the ballroom and greeting guests. She has insisted she doesn’t need presents, but if you brought one, she won’t turn you down. (Though she has strongly encouraged gifts for the other birthday girl, Susie.)

Dahlia Leeds | NPC

[thethirteenthchild]

-Girls’ Night-

There is a unique intimacy between two women (or any kind of people, really, but perhaps especially for femme-presenting people) who lace or button each other’s clothing, do each other’s makeup, brush each other’s hair. It doesn’t have to be romantic--- in fact, many people find it to be a particularly potent gesture of platonic or familial affection. Dahlia in particular treasures such moments.

The vast majority of women invited are Dahlia’s inner circle. Her dearest friends, her metamour, and the favored of her domain. She’s admittedly less personally close with Cassandra and Noelle, but with Noelle newly moved into her home and Cassandra’s commitment to getting to know her, Dahlia invites them both as a show of good faith. A chance to get closer. Dahlia’s partner Daisy, hilariously, is banished. But this is in service to her getting to see Dahlia and Basira emerge from the dressing room looking stunning. She will appreciate it later.

The dressing room itself is bustling with activity, though at a somewhat leisurely pace. Plates of little snacks--- things that are small, easy to eat, and crucially not messy--- and little flutes of champagne and cider are placed off to the side for the girls’ enjoyment. (The teenagers can have a little champagne, Dahlia won’t tell.) Several vanities, as well as just desks with mirrors above them, have been set up around the room.

In good spirits, Dahlia tries to touch base with as many people as she can.

“Want me to brush your hair back?”

“I can pin that for you, if you’d like.”

“Need someone to lace up your corset? Those fancy back-lacing ones usually need it.”

“Do you mind buttoning this for me?”

“Shall we take a snack break?”


-Good Times, and a Complete Lack of Patience with Anyone Who Might Derail Them-

Once the party starts in earnest, Dahlia’s good spirits largely return, despite her grandfather’s interruptions. After all, her brother is here!

Dahlia takes dinner at her head table at the front of the room, with close friends and found family. And, for one night, blood family as well. Party preparations are hungry work, so she plows through two plates of dinner and a few glasses of red wine she does not bother to count. She is just a little bit tipsy by the time she hits the dance floor, but seems otherwise fine. Just incandescently happy.

Feel free to find Dahlia on the dance floor, at the snack table, getting some night air in her stunning garden on the side yard, or plopping down to join you at your table during a break. She’ll be delighted to catch up with you.

Unless, of course, you are one of the few unwelcome guests that her grandfather brought along, or someone else who is inciting drama at Dahlia’s birthday party. Then, you are an intrusion. For the most part, Dahlia will do her best to ignore such individuals, with little more than a side-eye. And anyone who approaches her will be treated politely until they give her a reason not to. So you’d best not give her a reason not to. Just because she is wearing a ballgown doesn’t mean there are any fewer knives on her person than usual.

-Family Matters-

Also available for conversation are Dahlia’s family members in attendance.

Jonah Leeds, second-youngest Leeds sibling and Dahlia’s closest childhood friend, is a social butterfly. Like Dahlia, he is a voracious snacker and can put away a fair bit of red wine, so he can often be found at the snack table. But he’s also drifting around the house, making friends and acting just as much the host as Dahlia herself. It is, after all, his home too.

“How’s the party treating you?” Jonah asks jovially.

At a table in the corner sits Eligos. He continues to wear a human form throughout the night, trying not to cause too much disturbance and wishing mostly to watch. But his energy and his eyes are unmistakable. Those who have dealt with him before will probably recognize him, and even those who have not may be able to guess at what he is.

He won’t approach you. He doesn’t need to.

“Good evening,” he says when you join him at his table. “Is there something I can help you with?”

girl's night

[closureisformovies]

You know how long it's been since Alice did anything like this? Trick question, she doesn't know either—probably it was university? Maybe? Uni friends, her first real taste of having girl-friends as a girl. Anyway, that was a long time and many shitty exes and bad decisions on nights out ago.

She's still kind of, maybe, a little bit, nervous when she turns up—she doesn't know most of the other girls but Fever's here and Dahlia's cool and the lady from the radio's always been chill, so she starts to settle pretty quick.

"D'you think the pink's gonna— I dunno, be too clashy?" she says, whilst plucking at the dyed part of her hair that runs from the fresher pink to the still slightly-teal tips from the dye job before it. "I mean, not that I can do anything about it now, mind you, but..."

mr. tenna || deltarune

[montyhall]

  — lord of screens —

Ever since he first found himself in this world — heck, arguably since even the few moments immediately prior to that event — Tenna's time here can best be described as an almost constant whirlwind of confusion and fear, with just a scant few moments of reprieve to be found here and there. From having his entire world virtually falling down around him, everything he ever worked for and everyone he ever cared about slipping just out of reach, to ending up in a place where he was not, in fact, the biggest deal around; deprived of authority, of recognition, of virtually anything that made him feel comfortably at home; suffering conditions that no television of his age should ever be forced to endure, between the heat and the wind and the driving rains that threatened to take his life, not to mention the frost that actually succeeded at that...

It's good that, at the very least, he's managed to reunite with the closest thing to family he's ever had; it's good, isn't it, that this little family seems to be growing further still. But none of that changes the long, long weeks he's spent so far feeling totally powerless in his circumstances, caught up in the jaws of fate and subject entirely to the whims of forces beyond his control.

Tonight, however, is a bit of a different story. At this gala, and for what is almost certainly the first time ever since he first landed on this miserable island, Tenna is completely and utterly within his element.

Part of it is perhaps that he's now living here at the Leeds Estate, which gives him a slight (yet somehow also overblown) sense of ownership over the whole thing, affording him an unshakeable air of confidence as he breezes his way through the ballroom like it was his very own green room, mingles with crowds both large and small and even cuts into a few conversations here and there where he hasn't already been explicitly invited to take part. Another part of it is, assuredly, the new fit which has him feeling more like himself than anything else so far: the garish red tailcoat that catches the light, the waistcoat in canary yellow brocade, bright brass buttons and buckles and embroidery in gold... All put together, with all seven-and-some feet of the rest of him (not including the antennae), it's. A lot, to say the least. But it brings him exactly the sort of attention he thrives on, the exact sort of attention he's been craving in this world, and now that he's finally getting a taste of it, he'll be damned if he's letting it slip away from him anytime soon.

Which is all to say that, as the evening wears on, Tenna can be found in invariably high spirits, regardless of where he is or what he might be doing. Perhaps he's found someone all by their lonesome and invited them to dance, because this is a party, didn't you hear!! Or maybe it's at this precise moment he's found a small crowd to entertain with some of the worst jokes imaginable, but no matter how bad they are it sounds like somebody's laughing anyway, whether that sound is coming from Tenna himself or from somewhere unseen, perfectly wihin earshot but just as perfectly out of view... That's probably nothing to worry about, right? Tenna sure seems to think so!


  — ... mike ??? —

Elsewhere at the gala, there is...a cat?

Yes, that is definitely a person-sized cat, and not at all someone in a person-sized cat costume, with inexplicably pink-and-yellow eyes and equally inexplicable microphone windscreens in place of all four paws. He slips in and out of the crowd with surprising ease — or maybe it's just that nobody thinks to stop and question him because, well, look at him, look at that big red bow, clearly he is being very polite — and seems to be especially (if quietly) interested in the live music being played, showing up at each rotation to dance his tail off to the new repertoire.

That being said, do take care not to startle the poor guy; it would seem he's a bit skittish when it comes to unexpected attention, and he may or may not be slacking off on a laundry list of responsibilities to a certain big TV-headed guy who is also in the room.

Lord of Screens~

[aghostinthemachine]

While Mettaton had been fairly busy the last month, he'd at least made sure to check in from time to time while Tenna was still staying at the Oak and Iron. It was strange... He saw a bit of himself in the other entertainer. Both thrust into a strange world, having to start all over again, their confidence wavering despite both trying to keep their masks on for appearances... but thankfully the TV host had some people from his world to bounce off of. Their weird... somewhat connected worlds.

Getting to see the guy shine thouh, oozing confidence and dressed to the nines was a very welcome sight. The glambot waves a hand excitedly as he approaches his fellow... robot? Monster? Whatever he is. Mettaton is practically bounces on his heels over to him.

"Tenna, darling~ It's so good to see you again!"

Mettaton | Undertale

[aghostinthemachine]

[ The Party ]

After the past month, a fun celebration is more than welcome and very much needed, in Mettaton's opinion. Despite his hardy nature in his Box Form, dealing with the different weather ailments had been difficult for him (was his supposed death the cause of him no longer being indestructible?) but he did his utmost to help Melaine and Phil keep the citizens of Pumpkin Hollow well informed of everything. He was fairly certain his body was still a bit waterlogged from the flood. What a pain. But! It was well worth the trouble, as it was for a noble cause. And he found it nice... to help others out.

Now, being gifted with an absolutely gorgeous black sequin suit though, along with an invitation to a big party? It brought a tear to his eye. It was perfect. The glambot wasn't sure who 'Suzanne' was but was grateful to them nonetheless. (There's a Susie... Hmm. Nah, couldn't be, right?)

And so, Mettaton arrives at the Leeds Estate right on time, dressed in his gifted suit and matching black high-heeled boots, ready to let loose and have some fun.


[ Cousins Galore ]

When the influx of guests arrive, the glambot watches curiously. More people? This isn't everyone in the town? Goodness, there's so many...!

It isn't until he catches a glimpse of a certain familiar shape that he begins to push past everyone (very thankful for being as tall as he is) and calls out to the being. If it's who he thinks it is, they're likely very overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people and he needs to get to them ASAP.

"Blooky!"

After a joyful reunion and the two wandering off to get away from some of the noise so Napstablook can calm their nerves, the cousins eventually return to the party.

... A giant robot and an equally large ghost in a top hat, who appears somewhat uncomfortable and keeps looking at the ground. It's quite the sight to see. But Mettaton's practically beaming. There will be moments when you can catch the ghost by themself but generally their corporeal cousin is standing close by.

Cousins Galore

[madmadmadkitty]

As Napstablook is greeted, the large-eared cat girl behind them (who is dressed like the monster embodiment of an anime gif of cherry blossom petals falling behind a sparkly pink filter) crosses her arms and scowls. "UM? EXCUSE ME??? AM I CHOPPED LIVER?"

Melanie King | TMA

[ghostbullet]

After everything that had already happened to her back home, Melanie didn't think there were a lot of things that could truly exhaust her—the last month, however, not only put that assumption to the test but ground it into a fine paste. A straight month on air, constantly adjusting to the latest disaster... even a good fortnight out, she still feels like she could sleep for a week just thinking about it.

So, yeah, a nice night out has never been more in order.

Girl's night is first on the cards, of course, after a pleasant walk with Anya from their places up to the estate. Her outfit is the most complicated thing she's worn in a hot minute (since, you know, she lost her eyes) and she could not be more grateful for the help with the fiddlier fastenings. She is, however, not much use to anyone else in that arena, which results in her mostly sitting by with a glass of cider providing colour commentary.

This is, again, accentuated by the fact she can't actually commentate on anything visual, so expect dry humour about how lovely that puce colour looks on you, or comments on how many skirt layers she can hear bustling about, and once a joke about how it's a good thing her girlfriend's not here to see her 'wandering eyes' (this will come back to her later in a fit of laughter).

During the party itself, her general intention is to spend time with some friends, drink plenty and eat plenty. And for stretches throughout the evening, that's where you can find her—asking for working eyes to tell her what food's available, or to give her a refill, or just asking folks how they're doing, so on, so forth.

Except when she's with her guest.

Melanie doesn't actually know exactly what's going on, at first, when the chatter kicks up. She can't see Dahlia talking to the strange man, or the guests starting to arrive, she can only hear people start commenting on it. Guests? What guests? What's going on?

(Those she talks to any time after she gets clued in first-hand may notice that she's looking happier than she has in... like, ever, actually.)

[aghostinthemachine]

A little while before the guests are announced, Mettaton approaches Melanie, making sure she can hear the familiar click of his heeled boots as he's shifted between both forms around her by this point at the station. Whether it's the ridiculous unicycle-sounding wheel or his heels, he has a very distinct walk cycle.

"I hope you've been enjoying yourself this evening, Miss Melanie," he says with a smile in his voice.

... The glambot has an idea. It's a bit silly and perhaps pushing some boundaries but... it's worth a shot. Everyone deserves to have fun at a party, after all.

Samama Khalid | Magnus Protocol

[huntingtruths]

Party Time

The last time Sam came to one of these parties he ended up huddled in a corner reliving his worst nightmare. The very next time he ended up waking up after having a night he should probably regret(but doesn't) with his ex.

Here is hoping that tonight will be different.

Better even. Both for his sake and even more so for the birthday lady herself.

He's dressed up in rather sharp three piece green suit and currently is standing with a hand in one pocket while the other holds a champagin flute. At least right now the whole affair seems nice. Sure he's the usual wall flower but he is trying to at least look approachable.


Avoiding Her Gaze

At least he had been trying to stay social for most of the night. Then the surprises guests showed up. Then he saw her. Celia was there an Sam didn't know what to do. He wanted to confront her, to angrily walk up and demand answers. Instead he didn't want to cause a scene so now he was hiding where ever he could.

Big fancy vase? Probably behind it. He's scrawny enough.

Maybe even tucked somewhat behind a person. Are you that person? Sorry you have a dodgy, short, scrawny, nerd seemingly putting you between himself and someone in the crowd.

party time

[closureisformovies]

Alice is... actually feeling pretty good, right now, all things told. Unlike last year, where the run up to the gala was spent in a haze of nervous jittering, guilty thoughts and self-hatred, this time she's— cautiously excited. Last month sucked, big time, but it's over now and she's never been more ready to just relax. Have fun.

(Girl's night really helped set the tone. Getting all dressed up in her new dress and her hair put up nice in a fancy bun with help from the others, plus some hyping up (this may have involved comments along the lines of IF HE DOESN'T WANT YOU HE'S STUPID from Fever, made whilst she sat around half-dressed and drinking champagne—real drunk supportive girl in the bathrooms energy, thanks Fever) really boosts her confidence.)

The appearance of some of the guests throws something of a wrench in things but you know what? Fuck 'em she's not letting the (incoming) (inevitable) drama ruin tonight. Not a chance.

So determined to make this reality, she walks right up to Sam without so much as a minor anxiety spiral and grins, asking, "So? What do you think? As jaw-dropping as last year?"

Celia Ripley | The Magnus Protocol | Guest for Samama Khalid

[duaprima]

The tall, dark-haired woman in the dark green suit that looks like she hasn't slept in a week is a familiar face to a number of the more permanent residents of Pumpkin Hollow and some of the other guests besides. More of them than she'd like, quite frankly! Bad enough that she knows Sam and Alice are here, worse that she's spotted a Georgie (which Georgie, Babysitter Georgie, or the Fearless One?), Melanie and Gwen—hell, even the Archivist and his boyfriend. There are few places she wouldn't rather be right now than here, in yet another universe, facing down the reality of her secrets coming undone.

The only thing keeping her from unravelling entirely is Jack.

The one-year-old isn't on her all the time; mostly, he's with the other youngest kids in a special area just for them, but Celia spends a lot of time there. Everything she's done has been for his sake, and remembering that helps.

To anyone who she doesn't know that might talk to her, she's a little jittery but otherwise perfectly personable. Commenting on what a fancy party this is, nothing like she ever remembers going to ('remembers' being rather a key word, actually). Eating finger foods and drinking just on the side of too little to actually get her tipsy, even if it's tempting.

Either way. This is going to be a long night.

[huntingtruths]

It takes Sam a lot longer than he'd like to admit before he finally has gathered up enough liquid courage to walk up to Celia. He has another drink in his hand, this time something harder than champagne. He doesn't even know how to address her, hell he isn't even completely sure he wants to do it. However once they make eye contact he knows there's no going back.

"Celia." Is all he can get out when he finally get close enough. Face schooled into an expression he hopes is neutral.

It is unfortunately too cold to be his normal 'neutral' face.

Kris Dreemurr | Deltarune

[heartofadreemurr]

Admittedly, Kris is no good at parties. Huge gatherings of people have never been their strong suit. But it's kind of amazing, to see this huge ballroom packed with people. Hours ago, this was a vast, open space, but they've spent the day watching people trickle in until it's teeming with life. In some ways, it helps that this is their home now, but in other ways that makes it worse. If that makes any sense.

But it is kind of nice, seeing everyone together and having a good time. It feels like healing.

Dahlia had said Kris could get whatever they wanted to wear, which meant that they actually had to give some legitimate consideration to what their style actually is. A lifetime of hand-me-downs doesn't exactly leave a ton of room for self-expression, plus this is a whole new time period. But wearing what they ended up landing on at the gala... they feel sharp. Cool. Maybe they should do more stuff like this.

In any case, for much of the early part of the party, they can be found with Susie, Ralsei, and Noelle, just kind of hanging out awkwardly the way teenagers do. But as the party guests from home start to show up, Kris spots a familiar white-furred figure off in the distance, and takes off running. They don't explain to their friends. They don't need to. They only need one word, to get his attention and make the whole thing clear to those they left in the lurch. "ASRIEL!"

Dess Holiday is present as well, and Kris spends some time speaking with her as well. It seems like, during that time, they do not want to be disturbed. Dark looks are worn on both faces, warning others away.

After that, though, Kris can be found up to a myriad of activities. They spend probably an hour trying to get kids who look too young to be there to a guardian, or somewhere else safe. They go on a wild cat-hunt through the ballroom, garden, and some of the other areas, and are extremely obviously up to some shenanigans. They raid the dessert table on several different occasions. And...

Towards the end of the night, when the party is beginning to quiet down, Kris stands in front of a currently vacant piano. They sweep their tailcoats back over the bench (which somehow makes them feel extremely proessional) and take a seat. The room and the crowd disappear. There's only the music.

Kris plays a small set for the last leg of the gala, some of which are covers of songs that would normally have lyrics, though trying to sing by themself right now would kind of be pushing their luck. But maybe they'll sing harmony for you.

[ I'm leaving the songs open-ended, so feel free to pick something! Kris is talented but pretty young, and their taste in music consists of classical, alternative, and video game music (plus they know a surprising amount of Christmas tunes). ]

Dessert Table

[bedknobsandbroomsticks]

As Kris is taking perhaps more than they should from the desserts, Sorceress swishes over and places a finger on the eclair they're about to take with a coy smile.

"I believe I'll be taking that one."

A pause followed by a giggle as she picks up the eclair and takes a bite out of it. The witch can easily replenish some of the sweets if they aren't already magically being replaced by the servants.

"Having fun, I hope?"

Gloreth | Nimona (2023) | Nimona's guest

[yournewsidekick]

Among the newcomers stepping through is a tall, proud-looking woman, chin held high as she surveys the room. Her armor plate glints gold under the light, a shade that nearly matches the long hair cascading down her shoulders. On her hip rests a broadsword; it stays sheathed, for now, but one hand creeps closer to its hilt the longer she looks around the gathered guests.

(It was a while ago, but sharp-eyed attendees who saw the final scene of Efrain's opera might notice she cuts a familiar silhouette.)

She is far, far beyond the Wall. But Gloreth is the first of the Knights of the Kingdom, the one who cast back the monsters into the dark, and she is not afraid. Merely... on guard. Even as she moves through the crowd, nodding greetings to the human-looking guests and shooting narrow-eyed glares toward the inhuman ones, her hand stays near her sword.

[when_december_ends]

December knows nothing about this woman. Not her history, nor her politics, nor her role as a knight. She's never met Nimona, either. All she knows is that there's someone here with a sword.

"Sweet sword," she remarks, lazily wearing half a grin. "You any good with that thing?"

Lt. Louis Hoshi | Battlestar Galactica | Gaeta's guest

[faithful_lt]

Lieutenant Louis Hoshi wouldn't say that he's gotten used to taking things in stride, but at this point they've all been through so many impossible things that what's one more?

Besides, this impossible thing comes with an opportunity that he'd never thought to have again, in life or after. This probably isn't the Fields - or at least, it's not what he's always been told to expect of them - but he'll take it all the same and make the best of it.

It is a party and celebration of some sort, that's been made clear. He's never been one to worry about fashion and the Lords know it's not like any of them have a lot in the way of choices for that kind of thing any more, so he puts on his dress grays instead of his duty blues and calls it good enough. They're in decent condition, at least.

For now, he's content to find a place at the side of the ballroom and watch the event with unabashed delight, and never mind the nerves and far deeper hidden emotions thrumming through him.

This night is a miracle.

He'll make the most of it.

[not_a_traitor]

A year and a half has passed since Gaeta came to Pumpkin Hollow.

He remembers the shock of the first few weeks, like being dunked headfirst into cold water: the living planet, the unfamiliar faces, the rudimentary technology. How it all shifted in time to become more ordinary. Never unremarkable, but less jarring, at least.

How strange it feels then, to spot Colonial Fleet dress grays -- one of the most familiar sights of the final seven years of his life -- and be jolted so badly.

And when he's finally able to focus on the man's face...

"Louis?"

It's hardly a breath. Can Louis even hear it above the crowd? Gaeta stands rooted to the spot, not far away, dressed quite differently and looking subtly different from the last time Louis saw him, too. Oh, he still looks like he hasn't slept in a week, that hasn't changed, but -- he's been eating more than algae rations for the last eighteen months. He's gotten a little extra sunlight. While he still needs to lean on a cane, it's clear whatever prosthesis he wears these days actually fits. Oddly, there's a thick scar across his neck, too, visible right above his collar, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him at all.

President Laura Roslin | Battlestar Galactica | Gaeta's guest

[presidentpythia]

Laura Roslin breezes into the room, perfectly confident in her tailored suit rather than a ball gown, and accepts a glass of some delightfully fizzy concoction. Drink in hand but untasted, she glances around to get her bearings.

She knows what the prophecy says, knows that by now everyone who's aware of her visions thinks that she's the one who's supposed to "know the truth of the Opera House," but it's never looked anything like this. If the truth of it all is a gala celebration beyond the rules of time and space, how is she supposed to interpret that?

(Maybe it's just the chamalla and it doesn't mean anything more than that this time. Maybe.)

"On with the show," she murmurs to herself, and straightens her shoulders. She can't afford to look weak, not even now. Especially not now. She'll be handing her duties over to Lee Adama soon enough, but at present she's still the President of the Colonies, and it's up to her to make that mean something for as long as she holds the office.

[tehilim127_1]

The woman approaching looks to be maybe five or ten years Roslin's junior, and considerably shorter and rounder. She's wearing an archaic gown of a dusty plum-fuchsia color and a matching flowered hat as cheerfully as a child playing dress-up, and she's smiling.

"Evening," she offers brightly, raising her own glass by way of greeting. "I don't think we've met, are you one of our surprise visitors tonight?"

Zack Fair | Final Fantasy VII | Guest for Sephiroth

[nevertakemyheart]

Arrival (Closed to Sephiroth’s CR)

A young man with spiky black hair bounds into the party. He doesn’t like formalwear much at all and has the tie undone and hanging on either side of his neck. The top two buttons on the shirt are also undone. He looks around, scanning the crowds for who he wants to see, and soon finds him. Those six-foot-seven-inch guys really tower over everybody.

“Seph!” He waves wildly, and Sephiroth immediately perks up at the familiar voice.

“Zack!” He hastens through the crowd until reaching him and catches Zack close in his arms. “It’s so good to see you again,” he whispers.

Zack smiles, clutching him close. “Same here, Pal.

“So! They tell me you’ve been here for almost a year in these guys’ time. You’ve made friends, right? I want to meet them!”

Sephiroth smiles a bit. “There are people I think highly of, yes. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

And they go the rounds, meeting the people Sephiroth has the most association with in Pumpkin Hollow.

((OOC: Both Sephiroth and Zack will likely participate in threads for this prompt. The other prompts will be Zack solo.))

Food - OTA

One thing that never changes about Zack is his love of food. He’s easily found at the buffet table, repeatedly loading a plate and filling a glass. He’s very sociable and extroverted, pretty much the opposite of Sephiroth, and wants to meet everyone.

“Hey,” he greets. “So what do people do for fun around here aside from attending lavish parties?”

Dancing - OTA

Oh, Zack loves to dance! But he saves slow dances for Aerith back home. If anything picks up faster, he's on it. His moves may be a little wild for Pumpkin Hollow locals, but he's having fun just making it up as he goes! His free-spirited nature truly shines here.

Smoldering - OTA

Zack knew from the beginning that he was going to stay here, with Seph. He wasn’t sure how he would accomplish it, so he didn’t say anything about it. But the next night as the boat leaves, he’s not on it. He watches from a distance as it goes, his expression impassive, and then turns away. His love for Seph is stronger than the call to go home. He doesn’t plan on leaving until they can go together.

He heads back over the grass, smiling to himself. This is going to be a big new adventure. And he’s looking forward to it.

[redlightgreenlight]

Valdis turns when she senses Sephiroth nearby. He seems happier than normal, and he is accompanied by someone she feels she should know.

"Hello, Seph. It's good to see you here."

She smiles as she is genuinely happy to see him.

"Who is your friend?"

fever (dark urge) | baldur's gate 3

[abhorrently]

girls' night.

It's the first time Fever thinks she's ever been invited to something like this - she's used to getting ready for the occasions back in her own apartment, figuring out the fussy parts with mage hand and asking no one at all if they approve. But after everything they've all been through recently, it feels perfect to come in and make this a communal thing. A moment of joy, to balance out how much despair they were asked to endure.

So she's there, drinking in the atmosphere, offering her hands where people need buttons or hair brushing or a supportive eye looking over their outfits or perhaps words of heartfelt encouragement that they really do look stunning. At present, she's not dressed yet - she's saving that until they're closer to actually descending - choosing to instead stay in her underthings for safety's sake. She's also happy to offer to do anyone's eyeliner who wants it, whether they want as heavy a look as Fever herself wears or if they would prefer something more subtle. And, for those who want to keep sparkling, she's brought a glittering creation that can be applied to the hair for a temporary shimmer that will shine in the myriad lights and reflections of the night.

She's happy, and even those she doesn't know that well are given open arms and a smile. The past weeks have been for enduring and rebuilding, but tonight can be for a break from it all.

conflagration.

The event proper is underway, and Fever dives into it with enthusiasm. She's chosen to wear the same dress as she did last year, and practically glides around draped in the night sky. Even her hair subtly twinkles to match, and she feels confident and beautiful - and reassured by the multiple blades she has concealed in her underpinnings. Given last year, one can't be too careful about things, as well as all the new faces showing up. But wariness won't override joy, and one must take it where they can find it. She looks for friends to marvel at their looks, to catch up, to take to the dance floor after dinner and barely want to sit down. And of course, there's everyone new to meet and greet and introduce herself to. Friends of friends, newcomers to town, all the rest. The same giddiness that had flooded Fever at the fairy circus is back, and the seasons keep turning.

Fever can't be up and about forever, of course, so occasionally she's at the side, sitting down with wine, and later, water, gazing at the festivities and trying to listen in on what gossip might be traveling about. Her table has open seats, and if you look like you need or want to rest, she's content to wave you over, gesturing at the chairs.

Very occasionally, she's out in the side garden, taking in the air and letting herself settle back down when everything starts to feel like so much that a headache starts to build behind her eyes. At those moments, if she's not leisurely walking around, she's found a wall to lean next to with her eyes closed. Just because she's quiet doesn't mean she's asleep though.

smoke rising. (feat. guest!)

Of course, not everything can go well. Eligos's presence makes her unsettled, despite how he's doing nothing amiss - she knows those eyes, that crushing energy, and Fever does her best to not stare. There's the absolute misery of seeing Number 2 back among them, wondering what in all nine hells anyone is playing at with him here. Wretched fucking asshole, the moment he thinks he's safe, he will not be, and to those also concerned, she's all too glad to try to think of a way to disentangle him from Mulcahy. They beat him once, and they will do it as many times as they have to.

And, rather personally, there is the matter of the skulking fiend that's appeared at the party. There's a face she never wanted to see again, and the moment she heard that sniveling voice call out "Milady! Oh raptures!" she had pivoted on her heel and nearly dragged the being outside. Their discussion is fierce, kept in low whispers while Fever's expression grows darker and darker, and those that draw near get hit with a fierce glare and a gesture of the head. This is private, and she'll thank them to let it stay that way.

Later, she's returned to full form, while the fiend mopes about the edges of the party. With his mistress's not-quite-dismissal, he can stay alive, but to be so rejected and cast out? Woe! Misery! He'll drown his sorrows in wine, and start looking for another blackened soul who might be yet in need of his particular faithful talents, because what is a butler without serving? That's like a funeral without a corpse! Those who are pulled to villainy, souls tainted with evil, may have someone shadowing them, closely observing to see if they might take up the mantle that has fallen. And if Sceleritas dares to come close to Fever again, she casts him a dark glare and a simple shake of the head to send him scurrying off. No. He has his life, such as it is, but it would be easy to revoke.

wildcard.

(have a different idea? go ahead and hit me with whatever - seriously! I'm also open to writing custom starters for those who'd like something for them.

if you'd like to interact with Scleritas Fel specifically, just drop a note in your header - he'll be independent at the event, but ultimately end up lingering near Number 2 for a long while. tl;dr - he's Fever's imp butler from her evil era, and has no idea how to process her on the path to reformation. perfect for all your devoted henchman needs!)

Conflagration (Outside)

[when_december_ends]

Dess recognizes that look.

She leans against the short stone garden wall as well, a foot or so from Fever. "It's loud in there, huh? And bright." If Fever looks to her left, she'll see a deer girl. Though she's taller, and her hair is short and dark, the resemblance to Noelle is uncanny. She also reeks to high heaven of an herbal smell that Fever likely finds familiar, which seems to be coming to the leaf-packed "cigarette" in her hand. "Want somethin' to take the edge off? It's suuuuper not a good idea for me to smoke this whole thing myself."

Agent Connecticut | RvB + guests

[liesdontfindyou]

[ Top-levels for CT and her two guests under this header, just to keep them in one place. ]

Agent Virginia | RvB OC

[dropshockandroll]

[Arrival/Meta]

When CT first spots the short, middle-aged woman that arrives as one of the guests, they look— nervous. Not scared—no, genuine fear is reserved for confronting the likes of Carolina—but just uncertain enough as to hesitate in facing her. Yet when she beckons them over, they approach without further resistance and only have the time to stammer, "Gin, I—"

Before Virginia claps hands over their shoulders and pulls them into a hug. Relief washes over CT in a wave and the two of them stand there for a long moment, until Virginia taps CT on the arm and they head over to sit at the edge of the room to talk in fast-moving hands.

There is so very much to catch up on.

It's odd to see CT again, whose death heralded the beginning of a death spiral that Project Freelancer would never recover from. Virginia still remembers the day of their defection, remembers finding Massachusetts's laptop tucked away in her locker and hearing from Illinois and the sunshine states that things CT owed them had mysteriously appeared back amongst their belongings. Odd. Odd enough that, when Alpha Squad arriving back one agent down, it wasn't as much of a surprise as it should've been.

Alpha Squad got weird, after that. Already insular tendencies amplified by the betrayal and the ever-increasing pressure from above. Virginia started encouraging Beta Squad to pull back, not get involved, just do their training and assignments and keep their heads down. Something is brewing, she'd tell them, I don't know what, but I don't like it. The following months spent chasing CT's trail did little to put that feeling to rest and well, she was right, wasn't she? They put CT down like a dog and the program imploded within weeks, sending some agents to the wind and trapping others in a slowly crushing vice.

She was one of the latter. Severely injured and newly disabled from a run-in with the Meta after the crash, the Project put her back together best they could and had her back in the field chasing down Recovery Beacons as soon as possible. From a Staff Sergeant in the ODSTs to nebulously ranked squad leader in a Spec Ops program to grunt in a glorified clean-up crew.

That's her life now, so, this is actually a nice break from the grim routine of flitting between sites of death and injury. She tells CT all of this and more, straightforward and open and every bit of the leader CT remembers her being back in the day, knowing exactly what CT would want to know before she asks how they're doing. Which she will ask and will get an answer to, Connecticut, don't test her.

'I'm sorry, Gin. If I hadn't roped in Mass...'

'Stop.'

'But—'

'You think I didn't think about every little thing I could've done differently, after my first squad got wiped out? It doesn't help. It doesn't bring anyone back. Mass made zir choice as much as you did and I don't think for a second the brass would've spared zir even if you'd kept zir in the dark. I don't want your apologies. I want to know how you're holding up.'

A stubborn staring contest ends in a sigh, and CT begrudgingly answers.

[Party/OTA]

Virginia is a 5'1", compactly built woman with greying hair and middle-age and stress alike lining her face. Just above the collar of her suit, there's an old, chicken-scratch kanji tattoo now badly damaged by surgical scarring that stretches around her throat—not something she picked out herself, exactly, but given to her by the kind of soldiers that sign up for and survive the helljumpers long enough to find a CO they trust with their lives.

It's been a long time since she was a helljumper and she could never go back, not with her... damage, but she's still that CO.

What time she doesn't spend talking to her fellow ex-agents is spent sitting down soaking up the vibes of the first break she's had in months, drinking her way through a steady stream of alcohol that edges close to the line of too much (though at no point does she ever seem tipsy). Striking up conversation can be hard, when she can't be sure who around the place will understand her signing, but she's perfectly happy to talk with those who do or who don't mind her having to scribble on a bit of paper.

[ OOC notes: Virginia is physiologically mute, but not Deaf. She speaks in a form of universal sign language or can write. She is CT's Freelancer CO from before CT joined Alpha Squad that Carolina led. ]

December "Dess" Holiday || Noelle's Guest

[when_december_ends]

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

─────Look at the stars in the big black ink.

A young reindeer woman enters the ballroom on the arm of a white-furred goat-man about her age. She is dressed like an 80's glam rocker, with a ballgown whose tulle layers have been deliberately ripped to shreds and paired with dark eye makeup, color-streaked hair, and a dozen black beaded necklaces. She carries herself like a knight, straight-backed and stalwart, watching everything carefully. But she looks like a sister, a daughter, a friend. She just has that quality about her--- it's hard to describe why you can tell this about her from a glance. Someone who was loved and lost. Her presence is surprisingly heavy. (Must be all that plot weight she's carrying around.)

In her free hand, there is what looks to be a guitar case, which she evidently wouldn't let coat room staff take from her. Once she and her companion pick a table, she stashes it there instead. Then, it's off to find people she knows. Particularly the person she came here to see. But she'll gladly stop and chat or get into any other mischief she can find.

─────Tell me what you feel and tell me what you think.

On the handful of occasions where Dess finds herself without Noelle or Asriel (they're probably nearby, just otherwise occupied), Dess can usually be found in one of three places.

The first is at her table, sitting inappropriately in her chair. Cross-legged, curled up, backwards, hooves on the table--- it changes, the longer she sits there, detracting from her warrior-like posture just a bit. If Dess catches you staring, she'll raise a brow. "I'd say take a picture, 'cause it'll last longer, but I guess you can't since there's no cameras. But I'll be here for a while if you wanna draw me or whatever."

The second place is where the food is. Dess probably searches the dessert table indignantly like four times, hands on her hips. "These little pumpkin tarts are pretty good, but what's a bitch gotta do to get some gingerbread around here? It's almost October and no freakin' fruitcake. Damn."

And of course, the last place is the dance floor. Dess is blessed with the combination of being both a musician with some classical training and a punk, which means she can and will two-step to literally anything. Short black hair and hooves flying wildy, Dess is out here going hardcore to concertos with zero concern for her surroundings. Are you joining her or are you getting kicked by accident? Both are equally likely.

─────Is it cold out there?
[ cw: drug usage ]

It's a couple hours in and that means it's break time. It's been a while since Dess has been around this much light and noise. Feeling her head start to pound, she slips off into the darkness of Dahlia's garden.

There's a chill in the air, but honestly, that makes it all the more comfortable. Dess sits on a bench, placing her guitar case in front of her. Inside is an acoustic guitar with a red-orange finish and some gold detailing, as well as a small silver case with... something else inside.

For a while, if you catch her, you can hear soft guitar music and singing out in the garden after dark, near Dahlia's willow tree, which is beginning to turn orange. It smells a little funny over there, though.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

look at the stars

[glaceir]

Across the room, Noelle freezes.

This place has dredged up Dess's memory before. Cruelties spoken in the wind, the dark, the fog. Even Aster knew who she was. This is probably just another trick. This version of Dess - hale, healthy, and whole - only appears in Noelle's dreams. Noelle pinches herself, and she does not wake up.

It won't be hard for Dess to find her sister. Noelle is the only other reindeer monster here, and she's always been a bit of a wallflower.

"Dess?" Noelle hates the way her voice cracks, but how can it not? "Is it really you?" Smaller, more hesitant, as if she can't quite believe it: "Are you real?"

Radar O'Reilly | M*A*S*H

[incomingchoppers]

Radar falls back into being Dahlia's assistant like he never left.

It's a little different, sure. For one, it's not really official like it used to be, he's just running around the house directing that flower delivery or arranging this menu or placing that other order for gala outfits because he lives here now and he really wants to help make sure it all goes off without a hitch. It sure as heck didn't last year; maybe this time, though, he can give Dahlia a good twenty-sixth birthday as her present. For the first three weeks of September, it's a very familiar sight to see Radar bustling around the Leeds Estate corridors, as cheerfully busy as he was when all the teenagers moved in, working his tail off to make sure everything is just so.

The day of the gala, he's downright frantic until around noon, when someone finally plops him down and tells him that yes everything is done, yes for real, now go rest. Which he does! Mostly. Even though he knows he oughta wait at the bottom of the stairs, he can't help but knock on the door a couple times during girls' night, calling, "You need anything in there, ma'ams?" (If this is also so he can maaaaybe try to sneak a peek before Dahlia makes her grand entrance, well, nobody's gotta know that part, right? If only he were, uh... slightly more subtle about it.)

And then it's time.

At the party, Radar can't stop beaming. Everything -- and everyone, Radar included! -- looks incredible. The food is perfect. Dahlia's so gorgeous he almost couldn't speak for a whole minute when he finally saw her. Even when a bunch of strangers start showing up out of nowhere, it doesn't seem entirely bad. There's just as much laughter and happy tears as there is shouting and actual tears.

So throughout most of the gala, expect Radar to bump into you with a bright, "Oh, hello!" ready to talk your ear off about how great the night's been so far. Or, over at the dessert table, you may find him with a plate heaped high and a slightly sheepish expression: "I couldn't choose. Hey, have you tried this one?" He might even pull you onto the dance floor, or happily accept if you're looking to dance with somebody.

(Dahlia gets first dibs, though.)


[ooc: also feel free to wildcard me, or ping me to plot/if you'd like a custom starter!]

metamour exile

[hadnoright]

Daisy's once again sat on the bottom step, when he comes down from his latest blatant attempt to get an early preview, leaning against the bannister and looking up toward him.

"Sure if you keep trying it'll work," she jokes, completely dry and deadpan. "Third time's the charm."

Napstablook | Undertale | Mettaton's Guest

[aghostwithtunes]

It doesn't take long before the anxious ghost is immediately found by their cousins, as it's somewhat difficult to ignore like a 5 foot tall ghost. After a period of time of Mettaton helping them calm down, they're kind of-sort of-not really ready to mingle. Dressed in a top hat they made themself out of tears, Napstablook goes over to the drink table to try something and maybe but probably not socialize. They could really go for a ghost sandwich right about now.......

Most of the time Mettaton is glued to his cousin's side but you can catch the ghost by themself from time to time. Good luck trying to get a deep conversation out of them though.

[divineeloquence]

King is one of those people who has a really good sense of others' comfort levels. It's always come pretty naturally to her, even before godhood. So when she spots Napstablook, she can immediately tell that they're on edge.

"Hey there," she says in a gentle Southern accent when she catches them looking at drinks. "Seems my friends are otherwise occupied and I find myself in need of a buddy. Mind if I hang out with you?"

Cassandra de Rolo and guest | Critical Role

[not_the_last]

girls' night

Being invited by Dahlia to join the preparation before the party -- she might have expected her reaction to be one pleased surprise; of gratitude, even; perhaps of gratification and even pride, that she seems to be succeeding in making a friend of the other young woman. She wouldn't have expected to be moved, ridiculously so, almost to the point of tears. And yet, it took her nearly a quarter hour upon receiving the invitation to regain her composure enough to compose the simple response of thank you, I shall certainly attend.

And here she is, exclaiming in admiration over others' dresses, sampling the snacks, comparing ways of arranging their hair, offering or soliciting help with some complicated bit of decoration. It's like nothing she's ever experienced in her adult life; the closest thing she can recall is -- well, from her childhood, before everything.

[If you're at the girls' night, come say hi to Cassandra! She'll be a little skittish at first and pretending not to be, but pretty soon she'll relax.]

guests' arrival

The party itself is much more familiar territory for her, though its flavor is changed by coming after the camaraderie above. And it changes again when the unexpected guests arrive, as they include a face she hadn't in the least anticipated seeing here: a crooked but genuine smile, a flash of heart-stoppingly familiar spectacles, a shock of white hair --

"Percy?"

"Hullo, Cass."

And then she's hugging her brother, tight enough to crush the fabric of his fine clothes and hers, and the likelihood of dislodging her carefully pinned hat doesn't enter her head.

[Please welcome Lord Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo! Feel free to talk to him on his own or in company with his little sister.]

go fish

[Wildcard! If there's any particular interaction you would like to have with Cassandra at the party, ping me or surprise me!]

girls night.

[abhorrently]

When it comes to hair, Fever's carefully brushing through her own as she's asked. This is about the only time tonight that the tiny rings in her ears will be visible, the volume of her hair obscuring them once it's rearranged.

"I don't really think there's anything I can do with mine for a different style. I lent Pyotr my hair combs, and I don't really have length, but." And that is a but with a mischievous smile attached. "I have glitter, and I brought enough to share, should you like."

King || Godpoke's Guest [ Great God Grove Spoilers ]

[divineeloquence]

The title of "most impressive-looking person in the room" is a contentious one at this particular event. There's the birthday girl herself and dozens of other stunning ladies, a young man in filigree-covered military regalia, heck, there's even a TV-head in bright, primary-colored brocade. But surely a contender is the 7ish foot tall blue butch in the bedazzled Western jumpsuit and wide-brimmed hat shaped like a crown. A golden veil that hangs over her face has moving eyes and lips on it, where the ones on her face are hidden by eyelash sunglasses and a lip-print bandana. The open neckline of the jumpsuit exposes the perfectly-round hole in her chest, through which can be seen a heart. A strange fusion between an anatomical and Valentine heart with a glassy shine, like glazed ceramic. She is strange and beautiful and powerful and a little bit terrifying. And if you stand near her, your own heart will begin to feel exposed--- but to no one but you. Whether you share it is your own choice.

This is King Khole, the God of Eloquence and Godpoke's predecessor.

Due to her size, finding a dance partner would probably be tricky, and King doesn't really eat. But that's alright. King is perfectly content to spend the night engaging in her favorite activity--- talking. She sits at a table or mills around, trying to chat with as many people as she can.

"Howdy. Heck of a party," she'll drawl out to the nearest stranger in a warm Southern accent. Her voice sounds like what a nap outside on a mild day probably feels like. "You from around here or just visiting?"

And of course, she'll gladly make time for folks she knows. King spends hours chatting with Godpoke in ASL, then makes a point of touching base with the other guests from her world, and, when the time seems right, Hector. Plus if you're someone Godpoke has named as a friend, she'll definitely seek you out wherever you are!

[abhorrently]

It's difficult to miss someone like her - someone radiating with a feeling that Fever finds odd and compelling and a little bit unsettling all at once. But she seems to be causing no problems, and just overhearing her voice is enough to unwind a little knot of tension in the back of her neck, and so Fever lets it go. Plenty of different sorts show up, and some of them join the gang of entirely too tall people that keep arriving on this island. (They aren't, Fever's only jealous.)

Still, she'd be a liar if she said she wasn't acutely aware of when the woman comes up to where she is, sipping her wine and taking a break from the dancing. It means she seizes the opportunity to talk first, uncertain what the prickling in her heart is supposed to mean.

"You're visiting, right? I feel like I wouldn't be able to forget you showing up on the ferry."

Unless it just happened today, but that wouldn't explain the outfit, or anything else.

Pavitr Prabhakar | Spiderverse | Spider-Gwen's guest

[icandoboth]

Among the special guests is a teenager dressed up in bright colors, gold bangles adorning his wrists. Early in the night, he's looking for someone in particular, but that doesn't mean he won't stop to chat and make new friends.

After he finds Gwen, it's likely you'll find him hanging out with her, though you can also catch him raiding the food tables for the vegetarian dishes, or on the dance floor during group dances. Maybe a partnered dance if he can drag someone onto the floor with him. The very European style dancing isn't his favorite, but he's definitely got the natural grace and rhythm to pull it off, and he's a fast learner. If he can rope a few people into doing some Bollywood-style dances with him, that would make his whole night.

Overnight, he stays in the dorms with the other teens. Gotta squeeze in as much friend-time as possible, right? It's like a sleep-over. Which means there will probably be very little actual sleeping.

[thismaskismybadge]

It has been so long since Gwen felt the distinct, subtle tingle of spider-recognising-spider. For a second she thinks she's imagined it, but she climbs a wall to get a good vantage point on the new arrivals anyway and she spots him—and hears him, distinct bright voice cutting through the crowd.

"—Pav?"

She dismounts effortlessly and is this close to hugging him, before getting self-conscious about the fact she never would've done that the last time she saw him and stops short, going for a weird, awkward double shoulder pat instead.

"You're actually here!"

number 2 and the dog on his leash (aka, father mulcahy)

[lovethyneighb_or]

father mulcahy | M*A*S*H | (overall CW: prior torture, gaslighting, manipulation, threats, etc etc)

[lovethyneighb_or]

we'll know such joy as we have never dreamed [closed to number 2]

It has been his honor and joy to both see and support the slow reconstruction of the town; calls to deliver, calls to build, many hands going around. There's a system. People take roles, like the cells in a body kicking into overdrive to clot the blood and bind the skin. One by one, piece by piece, one assistance after the other, the houses go back up. The Hollow heals itself.

The party promises to be an exciting thing. He dresses in his provided finery, relatively plain compared to some other outfits and yet by far the nicest thing he has ever owned. The weather is temperate. The night is sweet. With how many mass celebrations here tend to go awry, he can't deny that he's tense, but until something actually happens, he's going to try to enjoy himself.

The first warning is, however, that the party population has nearly doubled with strangers. Some greet strangers with tearful recognition, others fall into tense arguments. Mulcahy looks for his sister and tries not to think about the worst. He looks for his friends.

The massive crowd is overwhelming though, even with the ballroom's great size. Before he even manages to find anyone he finds himself in need of air. Mulcahy quietly steps outside to the grounds, where some other people seem to have had the same idea. He wanders even further afield for a bit of quiet and sits down on the other side of some hedges. He just needs a moment. Only a moment.

we'll fathom the deeps of pain [open, WITH number 2]

Mulcahy runs as far as he can: nowhere at all. He shrinks inside himself, feels his mind and soul pulling far away from what the body can't escape, making himself small to put as much distance as possible between him and him. Static fills his ears; the world slips far, far away.

It's never been enough. It never stopped him from trying.

After he arrived on the island, so much of "back then" passed him like a dream. He holds no scars from it; only from before on the ship, and after from the Hollow. He has no evidence. In practical terms, it's nothing but a bundle of neuroses he can't let go of and a handful of scary stories. But like this, now everyone sees the devil that haunts every dark corner. They've made it real. And all of a sudden Mulcahy--4077--understands something he should've known long before: there is no escape from the Village. Not for long. He saw this place as an awakening into a real world from a long, dark nightmare, but he had it the wrong way around. This was a beautiful dream, and Two is taking him back where he belongs. The living world has no place for something as thoroughly broken as him. He will go back, and he will die. Like everyone else.

There is a man at the ball who calls himself Number Two, and a pale priest follows at his heels, saying nothing and seeing nothing, with nothing in his gaze; looking at him is about as useful as looking at a pelt's eyes, all glass: fragile and cold and colorless and hollow.

He does not speak unless spoken to. His cross, which he has never gone a day without since arriving, is missing from his neck. He is being good.

He thinks, help me, help me, help me, oh God. I'm dying. I'm dying. I'm dying.

He's being good.

but the hardest bit of it all will be... [open, WITHOUT number 2]

Number 2 finally lets him wander off on his own, and he feels utterly frozen. This is a test. Or a plot. Something. There is one right in a sea of wrongs and he has no idea how to find it. Why does he want to find it? What happened to him? How was it easier to disobey back in the Village? How was he braver then than he is now?

His heart thuds in his chest with tightly muffled panic, gagged and bound, so buried it only shows if you know how to look for it. Anyone he recognizes in the crowd he tries desperately to avoid, wherever he goes, as he moves simply to move. In the estate gardens, in a private hall or side room, some corner, find 4077 anywhere. Anywhere but away. He doesn't know what'll happen if he tries.

Daisy Tonner + Alice Tonner | TMA

[hadnoright]

Anyone waiting around the estate during girl's night will likely see the comically excluded Daisy, usually sitting at the bottom of the stairs when she's not pacing like a dog with separation anxiety. Despite the look on her face (and the claws, and the teeth...) she's not going to bite anyone who's also waiting around, though you'd be forgiven for thinking her unapproachable.

She's already dressed up, with hair pulled back and her typical daisy earrings joined by a matching necklace plus some simpler jewellery. She's even broken out the heels, pushing her closer to 5'6" than her usual 5'2"—which may make the pacing funnier, for the way the things keep clicking against the hardwood floors.

(Of course, keeping her out absolutely pays off once she sets eyes on the finished looks, so can she really complain?)

When the party begins, the dog with separation anxiety is replaced by an on-edge guard dog. After how last year went, it's hard not to be on high alert, waiting to see what might go wrong and ruin Dahlia's party once again. So early on, she can mostly be found glowering across the room from a position that gives her a good view of the entire space and the exits. Try as she might to relax even a little, she just can't, and it's safe to say that seeing the old man she recognises all too well as Eligos talking to Dahlia does nothing to assuage her concerns.

Neither, actually, does the arrival of the guests. Hard to truly trust the king of betrayal himself not to pull a certain Slaughter Avatar out of the ground for another turn—but she doesn't get a whiff of him on the air, so, alright, there's that. Thank fuck.

Unfortunately, her other options aren't much better. In fact, the guest that does arrive is an existential crisis in the making.

For the rest of the evening, Daisy is outright hiding from ten-year-old Alice Tonner and once again wishing she could get drunk.

Alice Tonner, 10-years-old [OTA]

Ten-year-old Alice Tonner doesn't really understand why she's here, but that's okay. It's not the first fancy party she's been to, even if it is probably the fanciest, and her outfit is cute.

Plus, there's desserts.

Alice gathers as many sweet treats as her hands can carry and then more besides, pulling up the top layer of her dress into a makeshift basket of sorts so she can collect more. Her dad's not here to tell her off for eating too much sugar or for not being ladylike enough, so she's going to eat and do whatever she wants.

The resemblance between this young girl and her adult self is clear, even with the thirty-odd years between them (or more like 20-odd, visually). Except, Alice's eyes are a dark, muddy brown, in stark contrast to the animalistic, golden yellow of her adult self.

The Welsh accent on her is stronger than ever, too, if you can hear her around the constantly stuffing her face. "What's this party even for?"

Alice Tonner, 10-years-old / candy-eating dream-team.

[cyansoldier]

Whether she likes it or not, Alice has acquired company; a blonde, four or so years younger, staring like she's sat front row to the latest zoo exhibit. She's the closest guest in age Catherine has managed to find, and because of this she clings to her. Not physically— she knows better than that— but by sitting on her hands and knees beside.

"I don't know. I heard someone say birthday— have you never eaten before?" A beat. Will dad see her if she stuffs her face too? Catherine sticks out her neck— pointless, since she's on the ground and no taller than four feet— to look for him.

"...Can I have some?"

spamton | deltarune | tenna's guest, unfortunately

[no1salesman1997]

Straight out of 1997, beloved (?) TV personality and advertising big shot Spamton G. Spamton is here and looking damn good, standing out against every backdrop in his palette of stark black, white, and red. He may only be around five feet tall, but his loud volume and aggressive vibes make it easy to forget he's not really that Big.

Pretty much any time you look in his direction, you'll see a drink in his hand and a big smile plastered on his face as he chats people up and maybe subtly tries to sell them shit they don't need. Or maybe it's your turn!! C'mon, pal, don't you want to hear about all the features of the brand new 1998 model year Cungadero?!

He might be a little less on if you happen to catch him outside during one of his many (way too many) smoke breaks, though, leaning against a railing and taking long drags without so much of the manic showbiz energy.

[ hello idk what i'm doing, feel free to throw whatever you want at me here or message me if you want to plan anything out!! ]

[staybizzy]

Spamton is not the only person kickin' around here who needs an excess of smoke breaks. The garden's a great spot, with a few stray people also outside to get some air and a nice view.

The hair and the nose are a dead giveaway, even in the dim garden lighting. Capochin nearly does a double-take.

"Spamton?" Capochin had given (the other) Spamton a day off, so it's not a total surprise that he's here but--- "I didn't know you was comin'. Since when do you clean up so damn good?"

The man in question is a short (shorter than him) teal-furred monkey person, dressed like a fusion between a mob boss and a Las Vegas magician at the moment. His cartoonish New York accent is somehow thicker than the smell of tobacco on him. And somehow, he knows exactly who he's talking to.