Danse Macabre

[marquisdemort]

Who: Lestat, Claudia, OPEN
What: A ball and a threat
Where: The square
When: Start of the month
Warnings: Violence, Blood, See notes for second prompt. Must fill out linked permissions to interact with second prompt. Prompt one is OPEN for all, will be marked as needed



The ball naturally wasn’t as lavish as either of them might have liked, but a decided effort had been made to make it a night to be remembered. Claudia may have called in favours from her witch friend to decorate and transform the outdoor space surrounding the fountain. A party in the autumn back in Louisiana meant a parade of costumes, broken windows, bursts of fire and giggling in every shadowy corner; the air was sweet with candy, and rich with sweat. Around every corner, there was a thrill to set the heart hammering.

The square surrounded by the lively diner, hotel and hospital, where the ever glowing orb illuminated the water of the murmuring fountain, was transformed as the sun set. It was lit by candles, dripping wax onto the cobblestones or cornices, and all guttering at once with every breeze but for those that only peeked through the eyes of jack-o-lanterns, hung on sticks at every juncture. They watched over the revelry without blinking. There was an abundance of flowers, drenching whole surfaces and erupting in sprays up walls, dried and fresh and making the air pungent as petals flitted into the dancing flames around them. The food was more rich yet, buffets of cakes and punch bowls arrayed around a patio of tables to sit and indulge in sugar and liquor, or just listen to the swing music played in eerie tandem from the crackling gramophones hung from the sides of buildings or upside down overhead. They blared with unfounded robustness, like a live band played and sometimes stumbled, around a dance floor littered with confetti and where coloured cards hung nearby for someone to shyly match should they be in need of a partner.

It might have been easier to meet one at any of the games throughout the square, especially the ‘apple’ bobbing, where names of the townsfolk were written on each round, red piece of fruit that floated on the surface of black water in bowls wrapped in glittering streamers. Matching the name to a face could be a challenge, though, as even those arriving without a costume prepared were furnished with a mask and hat, fashioned after clowns and cats and silver screen monsters. Those who didn’t know what their next step should be should maybe start with a fortune game, where plucking a tooth from the mouth of a black cat would reveal if one was destined to marry late in life, or die in a tragic accident.

There was a long night ahead to explore all that this party had to offer, the candles all illuminating as the last glow of the sun faded from the horizon. Claudia watched over it in a voluminous dress of gold and pink, and from behind a matching mask topped with the tiara of a princess. In so much fabric, she looked like a doll sat among the jack-o-lanterns, still but for her wide, dark eyes.

Comments

Mingle

[marquisdemort]

Formal dress was naturally not easy to come by, though the hosts had managed, but they have supplied an array of masks for their guests if they wish to partake. There was food, and drinks (though the hosts don’t partake as they make their rounds), music and even a dance floor and games. All of it has a decidedly 30s/40s inspired New Orleans swing to it for those who can recognize such things.

OTA

[thepurpleone]

He's never been to a ball before, but for all that the suggestion of one in an abandoned city on an alien planet seems outright frivolous, maybe a little frivolity might be what everyone needs. Besides, a costumed ball sounds fancy, and he loves the excuse to dress up. Blowing a few of his Replicator privileges for something dressy is totally worth it. You can't wear a hoodie to a ball!

It's amazing what a bit of redecorating does for an otherwise familiar space, and since he doesn't have his phone, Donnie's making thorough use of his tablet, taking many selfies while internally lamenting the lack of social media. He's donned a snappy top hat with a purple plume stabbed through its band, and a Phantom-esque half mask in glittering purple. The music may not be quite his preference but he finds it catchy enough to foot-tap and even dance a bit to even as he samples the food and drink.

Re: OTA

[marquisdemort]

Donnie draws the attention of one of the hosts not for his costume or his dance moves, but for their recent conversation, and Lestat approaches with an almost predatory smile.

"Are we enjoying ourselves?" he asks, cordially enough, but that dangerous look doesn't quite leave his eye.

[thepurpleone]

"Surprisingly, yes," Donnie says, distracted as he takes a sip from a glass before making a face.

"I think the apple cider's a bit off." Or maybe it's not apple cider. He sniffs at it, but something at the back of his mind nags at him. There's something familiar about that voice, isn't there?

OTA

[deal_me_in]

Ah, how nostalgic. Balls aren't really his thing, but the Hunter had been curious. How many people ever threw a ball around here? After wandering the festive grounds, Cayde's deposited himself in a chair, a glass in one hand, a cat mask perched over his face and a chicken settled on his shoulder.

"Kind of like the Festival of the Lost, back home," he says with a wistful smile, swirling his glass as he takes in the candlelit ambiance. He carefully sets Colonel on the table, pulling out a small pouch to set there for the hen to pick at while he lounges to people watch for a bit.

[belladonic]

He didn't have to wait long for the people to come to him. It was obvious on her approach what her goal was, even as she had to struggle around chairs in her wide skirt, as her red eyes remained locked on the table all the way up until she came to a stop just a few steps away. Then she glanced between Cayde and the chicken, hands up before her, first in loose fists, then pressed together like she was trying not to clap. Without offering, or waiting, for a greeting, she was then finishing her journey right up to Cayde's seat, and climbing up onto it with him, an arduous journey under all of the fabric of her costume and was tall enough to leave her legs swinging freely once she had settled on his knee where she could fold her arms on the table to rest her chin, bringing her level with the bird.

[deal_me_in]

The Exo watched the girl be drawn like some gravitational pull to the little space he and Colonel occupied, a faint glow of blue peering out from one of the cut-out eyes of his cat mask. He watched her pause there, and then resume her trek, even as the chicken remained unbothered, pecking at some mixed grains from the pouch, already partially spilled across the table.

And then his vision is entirely taken up by fabric, which had him make a small noise of surprised protest. But despite all the layers, the girl wasn't all that big or heavy, although this was besides the point.

All the while, Colonel continued to eat.

"...um. Excuse me?"

[belladonic]

Claudia had become quite resigned to the idea that she was never going to see a familiar animal here, so the appearance of what seemed to be a perfectly normal chicken was suddenly intriguingly exotic. What she was used to seeing blustering across the street fairly regularly was now a rare intrigue, though this was not the only reason she ignored this gentle protest from the chicken's friend.

"Are there more chickens here?" she asked, not looking around to the weird, mechanical man, watching the bird at her food like she was entranced.

[deal_me_in]

Treated like a chair, how rude. Cayde wasn't one to go tossing girls off, however, so he shrugged and dealt with it for the moment.

Besides, who was he to get mad at a kid who was clearly so curious about his chicken?

"Sadly, no. Colonel appeared by her lonesome one day. Guess the Agrii brought her from home to keep me company. Or prevent an uprising due to my absence, I like to think it's the latter."

[belladonic]

The lack of chickens for her to bond with was sad, but unsurprisingly, so Claudia's pout was only brief before she was creeping one hand across the table to tug at the edge of the bag that Colonel was plucking. Her singular appearance made it sound like she was just like anyone else that had appeared here, taken from home with the assumption that she was going to help rebuild this city, and to Claudia this did seem perfectly sound as she tipped her head over onto her ear to consider the chicken at another angle. She wasn't any more or less likely than anyone else Claudia had met here to be able to do that kind of work. Animals were animals. She was decidedly remarkable for a chicken, though. "She sounds very important," Claudia noted, either for her perceived city-building talents or for her ability to lead a protest. "Where I'm from, people mostly eat chickens." Claudia wrinkled her nose, like this might have been distasteful. "Or sometimes...Do you know what voodoo is?"

[deal_me_in]

Colonel paused as fingers entered her line of vision, watching as her food was being pulled away. She cocked her head before pecking a bit at the seed on the table, taking her time as though trying be subtle about following the food, but she did inch closer to Claudia.

"Oh, she is the most important chicken in the Last City," Cayde said proudly. "No one can eat her on a clear conscience- she helped us take back our home after all. A war veteran even!" He chuckled.

"Voodoo...oh, I've heard of it. Might be kind of inaccurate though. Chickens a common ingredient?"

OTA

[crystalmaster]

Radley is honestly not as fond of dressing up, but he does like some traditional Spanish wear from time to time. He shows up dressed as a clean-shaven Zorro. He wasn't about to pass up a ball, something so unusual in these parts. And he's pleased to recognize music from home, albeit not his usual favorite decade or genre.

He partakes much in the food and will be happy to dance if anyone wishes it. He's really very good. He may even ask someone for a dance if they seem interested in dancing in general.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve has no idea where he was supposed to find a costume, but he has found a plaid shirt and he's carrying around a piece of wood. Lumberjack, definitely. Sort of? At least he's trying.

"Oh," he says, smiling since he finally recognizes someone's costume. "Zorro. Nice mask."

[crystalmaster]

Radley smiles, pleased to be recognized. "You have good taste. Thanks! Your costume is cool too." It's simple, but it certainly works.

[pursuitofcappiness]

"Oh, thanks," he says. "Pretty last-minute. I'm Steve, by the way. I think I've seen you around town." He should, he comes to the diner enough.

[crystalmaster]

"I've seen you too," Radley says. "I'm Radley."

[pursuitofcappiness]

"Oh, you're Radley." He holds out his hand for Radley to shake. "It's nice to meet you."

OTA

[spinsandneedles]

Sonic came here to PARTAAAAYYYY, but for him this feels less like a PARTY and more like Old People Theme Night at granny's bingo night. Like he can totally still party? Stuff his face and jam to some grandma tunes?

Well, at least there's food. He doesn't bother dressing up (because pants are too much effort), but he is rocking a pretty cool mask while he goes around bugging people or eating.

"Man, I've been to funerals that were more lively than this. Next time someone throws a party, we need to find some strobe lights and subwoofers."

The Main Event

[marquisdemort]

(Must fill out permissions with both Lestat and Claudia to tag this one. There will be violence.)

The music stopped and Lestat caught the party’s attention for a speech.

“My dear friends. We want to be truthful with you. We want to share what has been gifted us with all of you fine people here. We want to share…the secret of immortality. What we need to accomplish here can’t possibly be done in a single lifetime, nor with the strength of an average man. We would keep you young and strong, rather than allow you to waste away here. So that you may live to find yourselves returned home again.”

He cleared his throat drew the party’s attention to a covered punch bowl.

“In the 14th century, in the third arrondissement of Paris, on the Rue de Montmorency, there lived a seller of books, who found, in an otherwise regretful purchase at a private library, a twenty-page manuscript written in a text he could not decipher. So, he traveled to Spain to have it translated. And on his way he met a Jewish converso who told him he was in possession of the Book of Abramelin the Mage.

The bookseller dedicated the rest of his life to reproducing the alchemy within that book and one in particular sits before you all now. “

He patted the closed lid with a slow smile.

“Amrit Ras, Chasma-i-Kausar, the Philosopher’s Stone, the elixir of life. I drank it as a young man…and I recently passed its powers to my friend here.”

Claudia had stood silently at his elbow until then, eyes scanning those gathered, and she pulled off the mask that she wore to expose the delicate, round features of a child. Finally, she spoke, “Claudia. I was born in 1903. I drank the waters in 1917. I am twenty-two years old.”

“Lestat de Lioncourt, born 1760. I drank the waters in 1794. 180 years old…this coming November,” he recited, almost perfectly matching the last time he’d this same story. He let the tension stew a moment before lifting the lid up to reveal-…nothing.

“Of course…we can’t give a gift like that out for nothing now, can we? First you must pledge yourselves to your betters. Kneel and we will baptize you as the newborns you are. Fail to do so and we will tear you apart.”

[tyrants_son]

The warlord had largely kept to himself and the shadows, but as these revelations were spoken, he stepped out just enough to be seen. His arms were folded across his chest, his unseen face turned towards the strange pair.

"Your terms leave little option for refusal, and yet assume much. Will you make this a slaughter?" He could hear Felspring sigh.

"You have nothing to offer me that I do not already possess. Even so I find little need nor urge to bend a knee for such a whim."

[belladonic]

A slaughter would be a revelation of fun that Claudia had been largely denied since arriving in this lifeless place, bringing out a bright, enthusiastic smile at the suggestion. It could be! She came around the table, unintimidated despite having to look up at the strange helmet, all impenetrable armor that she could smell was not worth penetrating, so whether this mechanical man was swayed by the offer or not didn't much matter. She pulled herself up to sit next to the punch bowl, letting her claws ring off of it in a rhythmic drum as she said, "Then be on your way. But do not presume to deny the rest of these people this power. Let your cruel selfishness end here."

[tyrants_son]

"You assume much yourself," Felwinter said as he turned his head towards the girl, a pillar of steel swathed in an old but sturdy greatcoat. A child, he thought. A child no longer a child. He'd heard rumors of a child Risen during his roamings, found by a Ghost just as Felspring had found him. He wasn't sure where or what became of them. He hadn't really thought much about how such a fate would affect one so young.

"Even if some were foolish enough to agree to receive your so-called gift, it does not sound as though you will allow others to reject it. No. I will stay here to ensure their safety."

[belladonic]

"Ensure that they die, you mean," Claudia corrected with a small pout, like she could feel sorry for the animals. "Weak and begging, and powerless against it. Is that how you like them?" The question didn't sound much like an accusation, but came with the raised eyebrows of an innocent curiosity, like the hollow armor's sadism was intriguing.

[tyrants_son]

"Lack of physical strength does not make one weak. Being powerless does not give leave for the powerful to trample over them."

Felwinter's optics narrowed behind his helm as he studied this strange creature. He could snap her neck with just one squeeze. Did being whatever sort of immortal banish any fear of death from her?

"You were a child when you made your decision. Did you see yourself weak, begging and powerless? Those so eagerly thirsting for immortality are the weak, seeking an easy solution. But is it so?"

[belladonic]

"And yet they have been trampled," Claudia said. It couldn't be that this metal man had forgotten where they were; the party wasn't so extravagantly distracting that the cracks in the walls were hidden, and the few bodies that milled around didn't feel like a crowd.

Claudia never got to make a decision, though. It was a thing that happened to her, and one she resented most days when she watched the sky start to colour with the sun just beyond the horizon, and the life she could have been living with it. She smiled, but it was brittle, with a twitch of anger under her skin. "You think the solution to being under the command of these people in the sky should be difficult and painful," she finished for him, instead of addressing how entirely powerless she had been when she was turned.