IC EVENT Dionysus's Night of Terror

[MaryGold]

Dionysus's Night of Terror

Boo!

Dionysus finally hosts their annual Hallow's Eve party. The normally chic club is all decorated from the inside out. Enter if you dare for a night of live music, drinks, food, dancing, and even a costume contest!

LOCATION: Black City, Washington. Dionysus (Nightclub).

DATE: October 31st, 2035. Sunday.

TIME: 7:00 PM. Afternoon.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

hh

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QUIM

An angel descended from the closed off Heavens, wings bedazzled and dark skin glimmering with iridescent body glitter. They adjusted their skimpy bikini, their metallic pink lipstick bright under the party lights. Their phone, held in a similarly sparkly pink case, was wedged between a string of their lingerie top and their skin. Already buzzed, they snatched up drinks for both them and the equally stunning man beside them, their boyfriend, their cotton candy perfume intermingling with the sweat and expensive cologne of other patrons. Tonight, Quim wanted to get fucked beyond recognition.

A break from the New Tokyo shoot of the current drama both them and Locke were starring in had been more than necessary, since despite Quim's acting prowess, even they couldn't manage a proper shoot with a hangover and some coke lingering in their nostrils. Black City never disappointed and the moment they'd heard about the Dionysus party, they'd insisted on going. Like a drug to the senses, the overpowering music, the neon lights and the overwhelming skinship on display were already pumping adrenaline through their veins.

They tossed back the fancy cocktail, playing with the boozy strawberry with their tongue and fangs before eventually turning their eyes back to Locke, gaze playful, as though the question they were about to ask was rhetorical. "Think we're still on the VIP list? I want another shot of that million dollar vodka."

「 @Dusk 」

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

hh

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ISIAH

"Well, Cordero, I think it's safe to say that we both look fierce," Isiah grins, kicking a leg up and wrapping it loosely around his friend's waist so that he can snap a picture of their reflections in his full-length mirror.

The two floor-length pieces of fabric flowing over his backside and groin expose a generous portion of bare leg, and if one were to look closely, they'd no doubt get a peek of a lacy white thong struggling to keep him at least somewhat modest. Similarly, the fabric crisscrossed loosely over his chest, held together only by the bow at the back of his neck, makes it clear that his objective tonight is to be ogled. Well, more than ogled. His goal is to get positively railed.

Perseus has done a wonderful job of bringing his vision to life with the costume. At first glance, it might look like something off the rack, but the form-fitting tailoring and the silk material make it clear that Isiah has spent a lot of money to look like a whore tonight. The thin stole wrapped around his arms adds a bit of effeminate decadence and, for his shoes, he's chosen brown sandals that twine midway up his calves.

In contrast to his sexy Greek goddess costume, Cordero has gone for a classic pirate captain that makes up for all the layers Isiah's costume lacks, though the hint of revealed chest would be tantalizing enough to pique Isiah's interest if they weren't childhood friends. Well, it has piqued his interest before. But Cordero has never been as good at the whole 'no strings attached sex' thing, and he values their friendship too much and lusts after him too little to risk ruining their relationship.

When he's satisfied with his picture-taking, he lets his leg drop while his fingers tap fervently to post it on social media. "Of course, we always look fierce, so who's surprised?" When he's finished, he slips his phone into the subtle pocket that Perseus had included on the inside of the skirt. "Ready to go, then? I imagine things are already starting about now." He says that, but still takes a second to check his mascara and lip gloss. It's always better to arrive fashionably late, anyway.

"What do you think Vince is going to be?" he asks as he finally scurries out of his bedroom and down the stairs toward his front door. "It's probably going to be something elaborate, don't you think? He's so goth on a normal day, he must have a field day on Hallow's Eve." He holds the door open for Cordero like the gentleman he is, snatching his keys from the nearby end table and locking the door behind them.

His driver has already prepared his white Mercedes-Benz S-Class in his circular private drive, and through the tinted windows, he can see him looking bored as he waits for them to hurry down the marble stairs and into the red leather interior of the vehicle. Which Isiah does, motivated by both his excitement and the biting chill of the wind snaking beneath his thin costume. "If I don't end tonight shitfaced and with a cock inside me, this will be a wasted night,"

"Dionysus, sir?" Frederick asks, looking completely unphased by Isiah's crassness. He's certainly heard worse.

"Yes, thank you." Should he be worried that his trips to the nightclub have become so frequent that his driver just automatically assumes that's where he's going? No, it's a fun place. For all of Vince's faults, he knows how to throw a party, and he always stocks high-quality alcohol. Besides, his best friend works there, so.

Pulling out his phone again, he sends a quick text to Cordelia. Hello, darling~ We're on our way to the club right now, you should meet us at the front.

「 @Dusk | @peach 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[Nemopedia]

August Yilmaz

Snowman with a note, is what his style could be described as today. Where Elkwood Town had been chilly Black City was just plain freezing for a man like August Yilmaz who did get bothered by the cold. And with the promise of snow in the wind the temperature felt even lower, justifying his attire of heavy scarf, fluffy coat and woollen hat all the more. What was fashion in the face of warm and cosy comfort where the sniping wind couldn't reach him? Nothing, and so the curator had arrived in the city to meet the menace that he called a childhood friend to indulge in some chaos, possible murder (victim), and an array of heating gems in his sleeves.

And yes that did mean that he was sorely overdressed for some (read: majority) of the parties in Black City. But he wouldn't survive the menaces in his life without a little chaos in himself.

"It all starts with shedding layers, right?" he had convinced someone to believe that he was actually meant to be dressed as a walking snowman. A sexy version at that. And he didn't even need to lie other than the suggestion that he might strip. Which, as soon as he was inside August did plan to strip off the coat and scarf, and depending on how warm it was inside maybe a little more.

Dionysus the nightclub was everything that he expected and had read about, with curated decoration hidden behind the Halloween theme that would dominate for the night. His fingers itched at the music, moving in tune as he imagined himself playing with the band tonight, longing for his instruments as he fought the urge to stare at the grande wing in the room for too long. He had someone to find after all.

His coat had been shed, the Michelin mascot disappearing and making place for a dark suit, its lining bedazzled with lightly glowing stones that kept the Magi warm accompanied with a mask in a similar style to complete his look as the Phantom of the Opera, ignoring its messy sequel.

The longing to join the live band remained, strengthened by the ghost of Erik enveloped him, as he moved through the crowd, always quick to spot that one familiar constant chaos he had in life.

"Halloween is your day, but perhaps it is for the best all the same that it isn't your birthday," he tells Raina by way of greeting,

Text colour: #97B6AE

@Noctis the Devious - Raina Sumners

 

[Noctis the Devious]

"That asshole ran his stop sign! We were almost T-boned!" Raina fumed. "And I'm supposed to just let that go?!" She knocked back a shot of something that was either strong or sweet or both, and Declan rolled his eyes. The two were seated at the bar where Raina wanted to wait for August. They just got here but already Declan wanted to be done. Clubs were the opposite of his scene but Raina, on the hand, didn't seem to mind the close contact for once. He wasn't sure how long that was going to last.

Of course, it wasn't a night out in Black City with Raina without a near death accident. One one hand, having an aggressive driver like Raina to navigate the laughably bad drivers of the city was, on paper, a good idea. On the other hand, he was barely fast enough in diving for the wheel when she went to fish-tail his old jeep into a U-Turn to give chase. Her reflexes may have avoided the collision in the first place, but that wouldn't mean anything if she wrecked them in a high speed chase anyway!

"Stop trying to drive my jeep like a damn hummer," he snapped. He wasn't going to humor the conversation any longer and, judging by the way her face lit up when she happened to look over her should, he didn't have to.

"Halloween is your day, but perhaps it is for the best all the same that it isn't your birthday."

"No, it is absolutely rude that Halloween isn't my birthday!" she snickered. Didn't stop her from insisting her birthday should only be celebrated on Halloween nonetheless. When he took off his heavy coat to reveal a suit of all things, Raina laughed. "You're so fucking predictable. Only you of all people would show up in a club in a suit! Come on, you're having at least one drink with us and it has to be on fire!"

For as long as August has been in Raina's life, Declan didn't know him as well as he should have. But he was at least somewhat of an acquaintance. "One drink and I'm ditching you," Declan said, motioning for the bartender for three flaming shots. He was the designated driver so he wasn't planning on drinking much anyway.

@Nemopedia - August Yilmaz. I'll code it later

 

[Nemopedia]

August Yilmaz

It was strange that, for all the years he had been close friends with Raina, there was still a distance between August and the Sumners family. Stranger even considering Raina's frequent time spent with his family in which she had absorbed herself within his familial circle, while August had none of that within the Sumners Magi family. Perhaps it had to do with his hybrid background, maybe even the fact that Raina hailed from a true Magi house while his father had been an expelled member of his, making them all Rogues now. In any case, Declan wasn't planning on sticking around, which August found a shame, but one he didn't comment on further as Raina didn't seem to be bothered by it herself and he had long since learnt that it wasn't anything personal.

"I am Erik, from the Phantom of the Opera. We took you to the musical in highschool," August retorted dryly, pulling the mask on and off his face before dropping a box into Raina's lap, never forgetting the birthday present he had prepared.

"Stay, I fear what she has planned," August tells Declan, though something told him (based on the stories he had heard) that keeping Declan around was going to encourage Raina to misbehave much more, which also prompted him to make his next decision.

"I will take both shots, just in case."

Anyone that accused August of being a party pooper hadn't had the privilege of dealing with Sumners' chaos caused by one person.

Text colour: #97B6AE

@Noctis the Devious - Raina Sumners

 

[Noctis the Devious]

"I am Erik, from the Phantom of the Opera. We took you to the musical in highschool,"

"Yeah but he wore a suit to the opera," She snickered. She remembered that musical. She was actually interested in it with it bring all loud and dramatic, but the longer it dragged on the more she wanted to move around. Siting for long periods of time was difficult for her but she at least tried.

"Stay, I fear what she has planned." Declan immediately started staring long and hard at Raina and she cackled. Though it did come to a surprise for her when he huffed and crossed his arms. That's the most confirmation they were going to get out of him but Raina was gonna take it. She knew he liked August, at least tolerated him more than he did other people, but he also preferred to "like people" from a distance. Though that unsaid distance only grew after the whole thing with his ex-fiance happened. It worried her, but for now they were here to celebrate her birthday.

"I will take both shots, just in case."

"You can't out drink me on my birthdate!" She held up an hand and tapped the bar for extra affect. "Bartender! One more flamming shot, and put it on tall, dark, and gloomy's tab!"

Declan sighed. "I'm gonna regret this." The only indication so far that the two somehow came the agreement that Declan was going to be paying for the drinks tonight.

"You know there is a way to drinks these while they're still on fire," she snickered, she wasn't planning to, seeing as she's seen more people set themselves on fire trying to do it than actually succeed at it, but the looks she got were worth it.

"Blow it out like a nornal person," Declan said flatly.

"Not even a Happy Birthday song?"

"Raina."

"Fine, fine. 1, 2, 3--" in one swift movement she blew out her shot and knocked it back.

 

[Nemopedia]

August Yilmaz

Declan was most certainly the more normal sibling. August could tell from the command only, that stilled him from putting the palm of his hand over the shot to extinguish the flame, the realisation landing that, yes, a normal person would blow it out rather than smother the flame with their own hand. But where was the fun in having a flaming shot otherwise?

Nothing as crazy as the suggestion of shotting the flames unextinguished, even if August was curious to how. A question he held back for now as he didn't want to encourage Raina's behaviour.

"You should ask the live band for a song, maybe that you can snatch yourself a vampire for the night," the male proposed after the shot, his eyes squinting at the burn of the alcohol that went down his throat before morphing his face back into a smile again.

"Now tell, how has Black City been?" August followed up in jest, "I haven't gotten a bail notice yet in Elkwood." A concern that wasn't really a concern, really, but it did feel like tradition at this point to poke fun at old habits.

Text colour: #97B6AE

@Noctis the Devious - Raina Sumners

 

[Nemopedia]

Anya Nosferatu
Redblood Vampir

Somewhere Anya had a memory of frilly dresses and palace halls, of cute bows and of servants tending to her in uniform. Then again, Anya also remembered once being able to see the sky and remembered what the colour blue looked like. They were all in the distant past and not part of her current reality, in which she had to borrow the senses of others to admire the ambience of the club and truly admire the Halloween costume she had picked for herself. A full French court style dress, including a corset, and petticoats, but minus the powdered wig, as Anya did feel proud of her red hair. Just to keep that memory of being a 'princess' alive, even if she didn't actually remember anything akin to it.

"Vio, do you want a drink?" Her enthusiasm was evident as she pointed with her fan into the direction of the bar, in her mischief a list of raunchy-named drinks ready in her mind to shock her company with.

Looping her arm through that of Violet, Anya proceeded to weave through the crowd, a giggling 'sorry' when her extended hips bumped into someone. Yesterday, Anya had promised Violet that she would put the lady in contact with potential new clients and jobs. Today, Anya had somehow convinced the uncomfortable private investigator to one of Black City's infamous clubs on Halloween nonetheless. Business she had promised, though that really was only secondary.

"Two shots cocksucking cowboys, please," Anya told the bartender that was quick to meet the two of them, an arched brow at the way Anya had to tippytoe to be able to reach the bar properly at all despite wearing heights, but not questioning it as they did pass the initial security at the front door of the club.

Text colour: #912837

@unanun - Violet Matthews

 

[MaryGold]

VINCENT ABBOTT
VAMPIR

LOCATION | INTERACTION | MENTIONS

There was not a single circumstance that Vincent would paint his entire face orange for a costume. Not a circumstance that could be immediately thought of in any case. And Dionysus's Night of Terror with its many guests in well-made, stylish, and most noticeable promiscuous costumes with the utmost details and adjustments, was no exception to the rule. That did not mean, however, that Vincent put no effort into.his own costume. He was never one to half ass his look and not on a night like tonight. Amongst all of the creepy and very not so creepy, men, women, and others, he had to stand out as a well-dressed figure and well-dressed he was.

Vince has prepped his outfits weeks prior to the night, taking on the appearance of the headless horseman. The design of his clothes were intricate, dating back to the 19th century, but finely sewn by modern hands. He would have appeared as some sort of dark gentleman from a gothic novel if not for the well carved pumpkin head that hid away his true face. It was the best route to complete his costume, not face paint, not hiding his head in the chest of his button up and vest (though it would have looked nice on the outside), and the invisibility mask Annabelle tries to convince him would be perfect. He likes the usefulness of magic as a tool, but he didn't trust it nearly as much on himself.

The pumpkin was the best option and he made sure to have a damn good job done on it just as he did the rest of his costume. Though, by far his favorite accessory was the skull he had in hand. When he was tired of carrying it around, he chain similar to those that were attached to pocket watches fastened to his chopped off head. It made more than a one stop by to ask him about his costume, leaving him with drunken compliments before they found their way elsewhere in the club.

His costume was not the only success of the night, but the part as well. Vincent expected nothing less. If he wasn't succeeding then he was losing. And he hated to lose.

"Do you see her?" Annabelle asked Vince from her seat beside him.

The two of them were on the second floor of their club. Just a few nights before they were carrying out business and entertainment both torturing a man who crossed lines. Now they were lounging in chairs at their table, one next to the balcony where they could watch the guests of their club from above. The birds' eye view made people watching all the more amusing.

"Her?" Vince quicker an eyebrow, not that she could see when his head was pumpkin. For a second, his back straightened and his eyes looked more sharply into the crowd of people on the first floor. "Do you mean Anais? She's here?" There had to be a little pierrot clown somewhere near if Annabelle spotted her.

"Oh no, not her," laughed Annabelle. "I mean the cute Bumble Bee."

The focus of Vince's gaze decreased within a second along with the excitement that had begun building up in his heart. The quicker pace of his pulse relaxed and he only briefly glared at Annabelle before remembering it'd do no good if she couldn't see it. He looked below again and found the Bumble Bee in the mini skirt and breaststroke nearly spilling out of her top. It was a wonder the costume was still holding together on her body. But her gaze kept flickering up to Annabelle with coy smiles.

"I wouldn't describe her as cute." Vince remarked, picking up his glass, and lifting his mask just enough to finish his last sip.

"Hmm, sexy then." She glanced between the woman and Vince, biting the corner of her lip briefly. "I think I'm going to talk to her."

Her announcement more or less translated to "I'm not coming back."

"Have fun," Vince leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, hand still playing with the skull he carried on him.

"Don't spend the night just with your daughter, Vincent. Maybe you should find your own bee to play with." Annabelle smirked and winked suggestively at her boss, but she was on her heels and scurrying away like the flapper she was dressed as before Vince could get a word in.

Vince snorted into the next sip in his drink. He was not moving from his spot, he wasn't one to chase after bees. He found more entertainment pouring himself a second drink as he listened to the music the live band below as putting so much vigor and talent into. It was only a shame he couldn't feel the vibrations of the music by standing on the first floor. But he could get a better look at who was going and coming from above.

He stood up from his seat, slipping his leather gloves back onto his hands and balling his fist after doing so. "Where are you?" he mumbled to himself as he leaned over the railing, watching the door and the stream of people entering. He wasn't quite sure what he was to be looking out for - or who.

「 @peach 」​

 

[peach]

Cordelia

"Time and time again! Archibald, I am repeating myself to you! What will it take for you let it go!? I won't be your plaything any longer!" The tall woman barked, tears streaming sneakily down her made up face. She gathered the material of her revealing gown in her hands, hiking up her skirt and turning to push past the man blocking her exit from the bathroom.

"Delia… Please, you know better than tha-"
"WHAT WILL IT TAKE!? MONEY? THINGS!? ALL THE AIR FROM MY LUNGS!?" Cordelia boomed, her scowling face within an inch of his. "There is nothing more you can take from me. I will not bend to your every whim like the lovesick child I was!"

Cordelia's attention was snapped away by the sound of a phone buzzing against the white marble bathroom countertop. She glared back at Archibald, her eyes cutting like a silver dagger. "If you want the past left in the past then leave it! Be done with it all and let me live! You've taken more than enough of my time, don't bother me again Archie… I'm nearly certain there's a lawyer out there who will have no trouble handling you." She spat, turning back to her vanity and applying a soft lavender glitter to the tear stains on her cheeks.

"Leaving now, Dearest. Hopefully we can stumble across half a dozen oiled up firemen tonight."

- - - - -

There wasn't a substance in the world that was going to pull Cordelia from her own mind, and it seemed there wasn't a universe in which she stopped trying. But on the bright side, Cordelia never looked more beautiful than she did after crying.

Glitter tears suit her outfit thankfully, graceful robes of sheer fabric clinging to her form as if they were painted on her skin. Tonight she would drink too much and no doubt get lost in a back room with a group of beautiful strangers. Almost anything it took to feel numb and keep her out of rehab.

Cordelia stepped out of a pearlescent limo, leaving a truly enormous white faux fur shawl in the back. " Thank you, Colin. Don't worry about coming to pick me up tonight, I'll be out late and catch the bus when I'm finished." Cordelia instructed her driver, blowing the older man a thankful kiss as she made her way to meet with Isiah.

"Look at you, you little slut." Cordelia chimed, a switch having suddenly flipped as she looked over her cousin. "You look ravishing as always, Dearest. Cordero, I see you clean up quite ruggedly as well. Very handsome." She complimented warmly, yet throwing a cold glance over her shoulders for a moment. As long as she didn't run into Archibald again tonight, she could let go and have a killer night with her closest friend.

「 @wren. @Dusk 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[Dusk]

CORDERO

"As always," Cordero responded to his friend with a grin. A grin which remained steadfast as Isiah snapped a selfie, followed by a wink at their reflections in the mirror that he hoped Isiah caught for a photo. Cordero dressed up every year, and that year was no exception. He didn't half-ass it, either. His layers of fabrics weren't anything less than exceptional quality. It wasn't the most creative of costumes, a pirate captain, but he cut a dashing figure with his white ruffles, red velvet coat, and tall leather boots. His vest was low cut with shiny gold buttons, and his fingers adorned with half a dozen shimmering rings.

Isiah dropped his leg, and confirmed what Cordero had already asserted, that they always looked fantastic. The visage of a pirate looked himself over in the mirror. There was nothing that needed to be adjusted about his costume — he looked perfect.

"Ready," he returned, but Isiah took another moment. Cordero pulled out his phone to check nothing in particular as his friend finished finagling with his makeup. When the blond pulled himself from the mirror, Cordero tucked his phone into one of the many interior pockets of his coat, and followed Isiah out of the house.

The blond pondered Vince's outfit for the evening, and Cordero chose not to mention that he knew, because he'd asked. Instead, he left his friend to wonder. Why ruin the surprise? Isiah held the door, how courteous, and Cordero took the lead down to the waiting car. He slid in after his friend, and the red of his coat nearly matched the red interior. A grin crossed his face at Isiah's vulgar comment, something he more than expected from the other man.

"I doubt you'll have any trouble," Cordero said. Isiah cast a wide net, and there would be plenty for him to indulge in. There was never a lack of good alcohol at Dionysus "Better luck than I will," he added merrily, although Cordero fully intended to keep up with his friend, at least when it came to substances. "When does your night end differently?" He half teased.

They arrived at Dionysus and were almost immediately greeted by Cordelia, who complimented them both. Cordero took a moment to spread his arms out as to give her a better look. Corderlia herself looked excellent that evening, dressed in her sheer fabric, making a tantalizing scene.

"And you look ravishing," he responded with a grin to her compliment, dropping his arms back to his sides.

「 @wren. @peach 」

Code by wren.

 

[Dusk]

LOCKE

Locke was perfect. It was a fact of life. The most important fact. Nobody was as perfect as him. But Quim was a shining star in a world of plebeian rabble. Quim was almost perfect. And beside Locke, they shined in full glory. A gorgeous creation, scantily clad for all to see. Everyone could look, but only Locke was allowed to caress them that night. He smiled with smug satisfaction. Someone like Quim, all his. They were certainly lucky to have him as a partner, but he counted himself fortunate to be their's as well. They were a delight of the finest calibre. However, for all of their strengths, talents, and beauty, Quim could be wanton. They partied in a way Locke sometimes found undignified, and it was perhaps the worst of their flaws, if not their only.

It was Halloween, however. If Locke was going to pick a night to indulge, he was going to pick Halloween. In celebration of the event, he had dressed himself as befit him — as one of the Roman emperors of old. He was magnificent, clad in his white toga and purple sash, his golden hair crowned with fresh laurels. Locke had cut a marvellous figure in the mirror, and had barely been able to pull himself away from his reflection. He imagined himself again, a beauty to the eyes of all who beheld him.

Locke sipped at his wine. He preferred the slow intoxication of the rich beverage over the hard hit of shots or cocktails. Black City was a welcome break from New Tokyo, not that Locke needed a break from New Tokyo. He liked the city, but even the greats desired respites from their work. It was Quim who insisted the duo attend the party at Dionysus, not that the golden blond needed convincing. His gaze drifted from the ecstacy of the party to his companion, who was throwing down another drink. At least Quim never did anything part way. When their eyes met, his partner's were full of playfulness. Locke grinned back, with a hint of mischief on his own lips.

"I'm sure we are, darling," Locke said, despite the question not warranting a response. They wouldn't dare remove either of them. "Shall we, then?" Locke asked. He held out his arm for them to wrap theirs around, and then escorted his fine companion to the bar. "Two more shots, your finest vodka." Whatever Quim wanted, Quim was going to get. Locke had already opened a tab. The barkeeper was quick to return with their drinks, and Locke took the shot, downing it without hesitation.

"Did you see Sandra Fabian on our way in?" Locke asked, voice not even a feigned whisper. "She was dressed in a tacky nurse outfit. I can't imagine the shame of showing up looking like that." Despite being an actress, although one who had fallen out of favour in recent years, she looked like she had purchased her costume from a discount bin.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by wren.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

HALO

Halo would never turn down an opportunity to either of the things on the menu today: arrive at a party scantily clad and enjoy the company of lovely people, with faces new and old. He'd admit that he'd had a busy day today, what with being in New Tokyo only a few hours earlier, dropping in to visit a few of his lovers and children, but he'd jetted out back to his beloved Black City for the evening to catch the Night of Terror. How could he not? Over the past few years, he'd grown to love it, perhaps more than his other familiar romps for Hallow's Eve.

With a fruity and minty mocktail held betwixt his bedazzled fingers, he elegantly glided through the crowd with a few admirers in tow (and how beautiful they were under the club lights!), making his way over to the bar. Though he was not the host of this particular party, what kind of man would he be to not treat his new friends for the evening? His cape, embroidered with an intricately sewn rendition of Van Gogh's Starry Night, trailed behind him, his tuxedo matching and appropriately left as open as possible to reveal his toned chest and stomach. He could not resist allowing skin to be shown, after all.

"Bartender, a round of shots for my friends here, whatever they desire, on my tab." he requested upon his arrival, a charming smile on his lips before he caught sight of the woman in victorian garb next to him, a tiny thing with fiery hair, who was ordering with a friend's arm looped through her own, "And whatever these young ladies are ordering, kindly add it to my tab as well!" He gestured, his delicately kohl-lined eyes flicked down towards the two of them in a way that was more friendly than it was predatory.

"Such lovely costumes!" Halo complimented in a grandiose manner, "I trust that you two are enjoying the festivities tonight?"

「 @unanun @Nemopedia 」

code by wren.

 

[unanun]

Cocksucking cowboys? Violet did not possess a voice loud enough to say anything, but she dumped all of it into the look she gave Anya. She was about to try yelling, anyways, but the approach of someone out of the corner of her eye snatched her attention.

The "costume" that Halo was complimenting was nothing more than a black dress. The synthetic fabric was too thin, almost a translucent night shift, and it only remained modest with the help of the seemingly purposefully inconsistent lighting that always out at the right time when Violet was moving, leaning over the countertop to accept the drink. Without Anya's help, this is what she had picked up on the way, with her cheek smashed into her fist as she looked out the windows of the bus as it wound its way up north from Oria. Her hair was slicked back with the untamable curls blossoming at the ends, a masculine portrait along with the way her forearms flexed as they curled her fingers around the glass, except for the way the cheap dress hugged her in all the wrong places and fell off her body in all the other places. Together, it all gave the air of a shy, out of her depth girl, unaware of her latent sexuality but eager to explore, amenable to being coaxed out of that veneer that coated her to reveal the flower within. Only about one of those things was true, though.

Thus, Violet assumed all the praise was meant for Anya, and just tipped her head in thanks as she sat on the other side of the princess and sipped her drink. It was a fruity cocktail.

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

ISIAH

The ride to the club was swift. With his mansion lying on the outskirts of Black City's center suburbs, it only takes about ten minutes to drive into the city's heart. As Frederick pulls them right up to the club's gothic double doors, some of the (clearly poor, based on their raggedy off-the-rack costumes) passersby turn their heads to ogle the expensive vehicle, and even more to ogle Isiah and Cordero as they leave it. Isiah preens under the attention, practically floating up the stone stairs with his arms entwined around one of Cordero's.

With most of Dionysus's usual clientele being the wealthy and beautiful, and his presence at the club becoming a bit of an expectation, he doesn't turn as many heads as anymore as he'd like on an average day. Now that it's Halloween, though, the average and the disenfranchised have come crawling out of the city's sewers to rub elbows with the elite. A whole new audience to impress.

"Look at you, you little slut," a familiar feminine voice calls as they reach the top of the stairs, accompanied by the sight of his cousin making her way towards them.

Isiah grins and releases Cordero's arm to pull her into a warm embrace, uncaring about blocking the entrance. "Cordelia, my darling, you look exquisite!" he flatters, stepping back but keeping a grip on her biceps so that he can get a proper look at the sheer fabric wrapped around her and the glitter running down her cheeks like tears. "You look like a hauntingly radiant specter," he says, though he doesn't miss the hint of redness around her eyes and the slight deadness in her gaze. They've wallowed enough together for him to recognize the signs of sorrow on her face.

Knowing her, though, she's likely counting on this party to be a distraction. She's not looking for an interrogation, so he won't ask.

"Come, my dear, it's positively freezing out of here in these robes," he prompts, winding their arms together and pulling her inside, attention diverting fleetingly to a familiar beefy bouncer standing like stone in the corner. What was his name again? Jon? Don? Tom? He's tried many times to seduce the man, an endeavor he seems most agreeable to, but in his quest to spite him at every turn, Vince has deemed 'do not fuck Isiah Fisher' as one of his many rules for his employees. Thankfully, the man can't add it to the rules of his establishment without looking like a child to the general public.

He purrs exaggeratedly at JonDonTom, who ignores him besides a subtle smirk that boosts Isiah's ego. Less subtly, he allows the sheer stole around his shoulders to slip off behind him, stepping into the warm and humid air of the club already swarming with writhing and intoxicated bodies. "Three, two..." he whispers in Cordelia's ear, lips curled in amusement.

"Sir, you dropped your scarf," JonDonTom calls, appearing behind them with said fabric bundled in his hand.

"Oh, thank you," he gasps, releasing Cordelia's arm to turn to him. "Such a gentleman. Do you mind?" he asks, turning and holding his arms out at his sides so the bouncer can assist him in putting it back on. He lays a hand on the man's broad chest, blinking up at him coyly before rising on his toes to speak into his ear. To be heard over the loud music, of course. "Perhaps I can buy you a drink in return?"

JonDonTom opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes suddenly turn upward and his smile turns nervous. "I shouldn't drink on the job. Maybe another time, Mr. Fisher." He scurries back to his post, leaving Isiah blinking stupidly and feeling unmoored, hand frozen in mid-air. He huffs, letting his hand drop as he follows the man's gaze to a figure up on the second-floor balcony dressed as what he assumes must be the headless horseman based on the pumpkin head and the elaborate Victorian outfit. An outfit hugging a disturbingly familiar short and lithe frame.

Oh.

He blows Vince a cheeky kiss before turning back to his friends, grabbing their hands, and tugging them both toward the bar. "Drinks are on me tonight, so you both better get fucked up with me!"

「 @Dusk | @peach | @MaryGold 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[peach]

Anais

A small shadow seemed to drop from the ceiling on the wall behind Vincent, but nearly no sound emitted from the shoes that met the floor behind him.
"And who is that?" Anais piped up from the shadows, her head appearing briefly next to Vincent's shoulder.

Round hazel eyes peered up at him, painted with black and white clowns makeup. A playful smirk tugged at her scarred lips and she cocked her brow with an exaggerated expression on her face as she rocked back on her heels before leaning further in to inspect his face. "Hmmm?" She teased.

"They must not be very good in bed if I haven't heard of them before." Anais stated, looking down the balcony at Isiah and his minions with her hands held behind her back.

"Or did I possibly misread?" She said slyly, smirking deviously over at her adoptive father.

「 @MaryGold @wren. @Dusk 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[Noctis the Devious]

"You should ask the live band for a song, maybe that you can snatch yourself a vampire for the night." Raina choked and started coughing, which had Declan quirking one of his threaded eyebrows. Ah, this was the night August wanted her dead. In hindsight she should have seen it coming.

"Come again?" Declan probed.

Raina slammed her shot glass down. "It was one vampir and we weren't even flirting! Just because we happen to bump into each a couple of times does not mean I have a thing for vampires now! How about you go for a live song and you go find yourself a vampir, Mr. Romantic!"

Now Declan wished he had his own shot. It was hard to imagine Raina being active in that regard, and quite frankly he didn't want to - let alone with a vampir - but apparently that was something he was now being confronted with. "What does he mean by that?"

"Nothing!" Raina wasn't flustered perse but she did seem quite embarrassed, which was a feat in itself.

"Now tell, how has Black City been?" August followed up in jest, "I haven't gotten a bail notice yet in Elkwood."

"So far? Cold." Who's was fine with her, she preferred cooler weather over hot, which sucked for her concidering where she regularly lived. "We actually just got here overselves. Haven't had the time to poke around."

"A good detective shouldn't be sending bail notices to her best friend anyway," Declan grumbled. Honestly, Raina and August's relationship was rather bizarre to him. It wasn't the fact they maintained a purely platonic relationship despite being of opposite genders. No, it was the fact the two shouldn't have worked. While they did visit each other where they could, the two always had distance between. Literally. In fact, the one time in August's life he was actually stationary in Oria for college, Raina ran off on a solo road trip. They were rarely in the same place at the same time, and any romantic relationship under the same circumstance would dissolve. Never mind maintaining a friendship like that without drifting and still having that kind of trust between them. Yet these two always seemed to genuinely circle back to one another.

"Good detectives sound boring," she snickered. "By the way, where are you staying? We're at one of our grandmother's vacations homes and have a spare room if you want to stay over with us instead. You are staying for more than a night right?"

"You shouldn't have invited him here in the first place."

Raina shot him a glare and he stared her down in turn. "Can you like, not be an asshole for like five seconds? August can take care of himself and we can take care of anyone who tries to murder him."

"Still pretending we're here for the parties." Why else would she pick a city that had a rising body count? Inviting her hybrid best friend of all people was just in poor taste yet he was the asshole.

Raina decided to ignore him. "Having fun in Elkwood?"

@Nemopedia - August

 

[PavellumPendulum]

hh

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QUIM

Quim and Locke emanated money in different ways. Quim represented the rich folk that found hedonism to be the best way to spend their time on their mortal coil, chasing an everlasting high that was always out of reach. They had no shame about it, because when one was as beautiful, as talented, as radiant as they were, did it not make sense that the world should shower them in love and pleasure at all times? It would be preposterous to think otherwise. Locke, on the other hand, was cut from a cloth that was a touch more elegant, much less interested in interacting with the riffraff that ran in Quim's circles. Though Quim found him absolutely fucking gorgeous and enjoyed his attitude as much as they enjoyed tasting him, they were aware that this was likely their relationship's fatal flaw. The both of them were perfect in different ways, to the point of being so compatible that they were also, in a way, incompatible.

But so what? Quim was the crème de la crème of sweet, sweet trailer trash. Locke was the winner of the genetic lottery, a king of his craft, an embodiment of grace and ego. Why was Quim here if not to introduce Locke to the concept of actually having fun? Life was about pushing boundaries, about letting loose and losing yourself in indulgence before you lost yourself to your work.

With a pleased smirk, Quim took Locke's arm and sauntered over to the bar with him. "Cheers, love." they clinked their shot glass to their boyfriend's before following suit and downing it without a moment's hesitation. It slid down their throat like juice. Quim felt the electricity brewing in the pit of their stomach, underneath the minuscule fabric of their costume (which was more lingerie than not.) They licked the rim of their drink for the remnants of that taste, listening conspiratorially to Locke, letting the glass sit on the bar again before they leaned in closer.

"Oh, she didn't..." they gasped playfully, "Well, that's definitely all she can afford after Steel City Hearts tanked. Bless her heart, poor thing. Some people ain't made for the spotlight. I'm sure she'd make a lovely PA." The sugary venom in their voice was nearly tangible, even when mixed with the music flowing around them, Quim's eyes sliding over into the crowd, paired with their smirk.

Sandra was out of sight. Whatever. The truth would get back to her eventually. Quim was sure that she would at least be able to remember coffee orders better than she could act.

With their drinks downed, Quim took Locke's arm again, a heavenly angel escorting their very own Adonis, towards the VIP section. Their names, of course, were still on the list. Here, cigars were smoked without a care in the world, the smoke heavy and warm, the richest of the rich engaged in debauchery and in delicious violation of the law. Quim threw themselves daintily onto a velvet sofa next to some familiar faces, introducing Locke with the utmost affection. These were nobodies, but fun nobodies, who immediately ordered the both of them more drinks.

Nobody One asked, puffing out sweet vapour from their pen, "Want a hit?"

Quim didn't even bother taking it, simply leaning forwards and taking a drag while the pen was still between the other's fingertips.

「 @Dusk 」

code by wren.

 

[Nemopedia]

Anya Nosferatu
Redblood Vampir

Violet's expression at her choice of drink(s) was exactly what Anya had been aiming for, the point of view from the bartender, a delightful third person shot that could be added as a scene to a comedy sketch. Anya even took care to compose her expression, only the lightest twinge of a smile as she revelled in the scandal that was engraved on Violet's face.

Scandal for both the drinks as the vampire that joined them. If Violet and Anya were counterparts in the department of extra, Anya and the new stranger were counterparts in coverage, for where the circumference of her dress forced all to maintain a distance, there was no imagination to be left at the alluring sight of a full grown red pureblood.

"Love the cape," she returned the compliment, taking the shots that Violet had retrieved to raise the stranger a glass, "and the generosity," she followed up, before switching her sight over to Violet, the point of view set so much lower than the bartender who had the advantage of a heightened stage behind the bar.


Between all of the bows and ties that adorned her costume Anya had meticulously added some pockets, adding more volume to the skirt. From there the vampire retrieved a bag of croissants, proudly offering one.

"Freshly gotten from the best in town," she claimed, though it really only had been hearsay that made her say that. Hearsay that she couldn't ignore, like she never could ignore the call of buttery French pastries.

"Anya, and Violet, now we aren't strangers, so it should be fine," she jests, angling her arm a little higher while shaking the bag.

Text colour: #912837

@unanun - Violet Matthews
@PavellumPendulum - Halo Al Nuaimi