abraxaslogs | [open] Happy Halloween~

Entry tags:

[open] Happy Halloween~

Who: Julie Lawry + OPEN
When: October 31
Where: The Horizon
What: Julie's annual Halloween party! Costumes are mandatory.
Warnings: In headers

At the beginning of the month, everyone with an existing domain will find themselves in possession of an invitation, delivered under the cover of night by a horde of tiny creatures. No other information follows.

I | WAIT
On October 31st, the pink neon that normally illuminates the edges of Julie's club goes dark. The pink carpet and velvet ropes disappear. In fact, the entire immediate area appears to be cast into almost pitch black. By evening, the building has been engulfed in heavy vines and thick tree roots, climbing upward into an oppressively thick canopy of treetops. Lush tropical plants bloom along the walls, their vibrant colors a natural sign of warning. Large flying insects flit into them, only to find themselves entrapped, stuck in thick sap that holds them while the petals close and devour the bugs.

Next to the closed double doors is a sign, but otherwise no signs of modernity. The ordinarily smooth walls of the club now have carvings that appear ancient, hidden under the leaves and moss. Anyone who looks closely will see that the carvings depict savage battles and human sacrifices, vicious animals tearing the people limb from limb. Anyone who looks really closely might find some of the carvings to be a bit... familiar.

Primal screeching echoes in the darkness, furious and inhuman. There's the distinct sensation of predatory eyes peering from the trees, in the bushes. A distant clock rings nine times.

Suddenly, there's movement on the ground. A truly massive snake, easily fifty feet long and thick as a tree trunk, slithers next to the ankles of the waiting crowd, hissing. Its muscles flex and shift under scales so black they shimmer iridescent, and its eyes are eerie yellow. The doors swing open and it disappears inside. Music pours out into the crowd.

II | CREEP
Inside, the lobby is gone. Instead, there is only more dense jungle flora. A barely visible path, made of more carved stones covered in moss and leaves, winds between the plants. The starting stone simply says Watch your step. Land on one of the stones marked with a dusty jewel and pay the price -- rabid monkeys might swing toward the unlucky adventurer, or perhaps a vivid green tree snake will drop its tail down to try and coil around them, or maybe you'll just barely miss a blowdart to the cheek (it will never actually hit its targets, only sail harmlessly past and into the leaves).

When the travelers reach the huge stone "temple" doors, aggressive guards in masks and indeterminate tribal garb leap from the shadows. (Those familiar with Julie's live-in partiers might recognize their faces under the markings.) They'll holler and scream for a moment, but then the doors will open, revealing the "temple" inside.

III | PARTY
In the main entrance to the club, the darkness is broken by crude torches lining the walls and support beams. More eerie carvings, larger and more intricate, are placed throughout the space; several have large gemstones for eyes, shimmering in the spare light. Skulls and bones, both human and not, litter the edges of the room, with piles taller than the average man in the corners. The remainder of Julie's Horizon-dwelling club kids are all dressed as tribal warriors of indeterminate origin (she's not out to mock any specific cultures, but she figures that shit like "face paint" and "bones" and "feathers" are generic enough) -- they all seem to be having a ball playing their roles for the night.

The bar is now hewn from stone, matching the rest of the carvings. As always, Steven the bartender is serving drinks, dressed to match theme. Tables contain a variety of food, much of which appears to be meat roasted on sticks, but, unnervingly, there's a huge platter of skulls and what appear to be raw human hearts. Look closely and you might notice them still beating. An "altar" bears several bowls, all of which hold drugs; cocaine, different types of pills, and of course, large amounts of cannabis products.

The dance floor is lit from below in stark white, casting unsettling shadows in every direction. From above hangs a disco ball shaped like a skull, bouncing the lights around disconcertingly. Behind the dance floor is an elevated throne crafted of bones, and this is where Julie herself can be found.

Happy Halloween.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She peers into Shaggles's empty black eyes, still unclear as to how much it can understand, but then it decides it's drinking time, and she can't argue with that. Julie sets Shaggles on the counter next to the doll, with a glance toward Steven. Keep an eye on him is the implication, and Steven nods. ]

Well, that is how you meet pretty much all your friends. [ Her voice is light, teasing. ] Showin' up and refusin' to leave. You make it too easy.

[ Still grinning, she grabs his waistband and pulls him to her. ] I'm the queen of the goddamn jungle, I'll decide what's forbidden. [ Her neck cranes to look up at him, eyes dark. ] But I'm not much for knights, anyway. Too clean for my tastes.

[ He makes a noise that says he wants to disagree but can't quite. Folk do just show up and refuse to leave, and Geralt never puts as much effort into pushing them out as his grumbling might indicate on the surface.

His smile levels into something softer. He cups her cheek and leans in to kiss her again, deeper, letting her pull him in close. The snake slithers nearby. After he gives her the little carved fox, he knows what he'll make next. ]

How does Your Majesty feel about wolves?

[ He does at least put a little effort into changing up the look of the wolf every year. He's even got claws and sharp teeth of his own now, though they're not yet out. ]

[ The snake, now creeping down the bar, pauses to look once more at Shaggles, then seems to give up on trying to understand; it instead curls in on itself, closes its eyes, and gently disintegrates into a handful of butterflies that flutter upward before dissolving.

Her hands slide up the front of his shirt, then lock behind his neck as she kisses him back. A deep, satisfied sigh escapes her when she opens her eyes again, keeping her arms around him. ]

Now a wolf, I might keep around for a good long while. [ She teasingly runs one finger on the edge of his "ear". ] Long as he minds his manners.

[ He was wondering if she'd shrink the snake and keep it with the rest of her living collection, but then it dissipates into a cloud of butterflies. That answers that.

He rests his hand lightly on her waist. The ear gives a little flick. They're not quite a part of him; she could pull one off if she wanted and stick it back on. Still, they're a little more responsive, a little more natural, than years past—and he can somewhat feel it when she touches one. Which. That's an unintended side effect, frankly, but here they are.

He will not be making any comment on whether he likes it.

His fingers curl around her wrist. She smells sweet as always. ] You didn't seem to mind my lack of them the other night.

[ It's the same snake that sometimes spawns to defend her -- the hippo and the night that his newly acquired black eyes had made their first poorly-timed appearance. But she doesn't need any defending now.

The corner of her mouth curls smugly when she realizes that there is a bit more connection between him and his costume this year, but she otherwise lets him hold her wrist. Sitting on the stool, he's a full head and shoulders taller than she is, her neck curved back as she tilts her head to one side and looks at him. ]

Mm, I can tolerate a bit of bad behavior when it's worth it. Lucky for you that you are. [ Her hand moves from the nape of his neck around, her nails running along his chain and the edge of his shirt where it's open. ] 'Sides, you're smart enough to train up, if I want.

[ He leans forward, leaning one arm on the counter. The drink given to him by the barman is largely forgotten. He's indulged in plenty tonight, anyhow, and though little of it shows in him, he can feel a warmth through his veins.

A small smile graces his lips. His hand drops to her leg, sliding up her thigh. As much as he enjoys the outfit on her, he's looking forward to removing it. His eyes linger on the curve of her mouth.

Lucky him to be sure, seeing as he rarely feels the desire to be proper in her presence. ]

Is that so. [ He lets his nails sharpen, the tips dragging lightly over her delicate skin. ] Depends on the lesson. What's the first?

[ Sparks race from his claws up her spine, rippling out into a pleasant, almost imperceptible shiver that she is aware he can sense no matter how still she tries to hold. She is constantly amazed at (and also turned on by) his ability to detect even the tiniest hitch in her breath or acceleration of her heart. It's like mindreading, except without the creepy, invasive overtones. ]

You could stand to learn speak. [ Julie can never resist the opportunity to tease. ] But I just said you can be trained. Not that I'm gonna.

[ Fingers lightly curling in the fabric of his shirt, her spine curves toward him, drawing close enough that she could kiss him without moving, but also not doing so. Her nose just barely brushes his, and she glances down before placing her hand atop his. ]

This get-up wasn't made to come off easy.

[ The glint in his eyes indicates he most certainly sensed that. The yellow irises seem to take on a glow under the flickering lights.

This time, he laughs, a barely audible noise. He could, but he won't. Her gold skin gives off a metallic shine as she moves. His lips only just brush hers, and he breathes her in. His claws catch lightly on some of the mesh fabric. ]

Then I'd better start.

[ He takes her hand. As much as he wants her right now, he'd prefer the comfort of her bed. ]

[ Her smile widens a bit at his laugh. It always feels like a tiny little victory in her chest to get an actual sound out of him. She lingers there for just a moment, just long enough to be intentional, so close that she can feel each exhale, then slips from the barstool. ]

You'll have to catch me first.

[ With a sudden laugh of her own, she pushes him with the hand on his chest before abruptly sprinting through a gaggle of her club dwellers at the end of the bar. None of them appear to even notice, beyond Steven gently removing Shaggles from the bar to place him behind it.

Her direction is the obvious one, toward the loft; she runs up the stairs with a speed that's frankly pretty impressive for just a regular human lady -- forty-two stories downward in heels, in the time it takes an elevator to descend the same distance is nothing to sneeze at. She sheds her headdress by letting it fall down the steps behind her. ]

[ She takes off like a rabbit, and he watches her as she flees up the stairs with remarkable quickness. The click of her heels fades into the distance.

When he follows, it's without hurry. He pushes open the wooden doors and stalks quietly up the spiralling steps, turning the corner into her loft. The chaotic jungle of cushions and furniture fills the area. He's visited often enough to have spent time lounging in each area—her bath, mostly, and occasionally the balcony.

He knows where she is, of course; his wolf ears seem to perk up on their own as he listens for her—whether she's hiding from him or waiting.

Eventually, he peers into one of the rooms. Thick leafy plants line the painted walls. ]

[ Like most other rooms in the loft, this one appears to be geared toward conversation. Although, rather than the lush chairs and sofas that populate the rest of the place, this room has swings hanging from the ceiling -- all of them are still and devoid of giggly pink-haired jungle queens. Julie loves nothing more than a theme.

Instead, she has hidden herself in amongst the greenery, peering out from the leaves like a jaguar waiting for prey. She's hoping the plants present a slight challenge by adding in extra scents, but doesn't really expect it to work. In fact, she's well aware that he could find her in the Amazon with very little effort, but that doesn't mean she won't try to force him into fun and games.

She holds her breath. ]

[ True, it takes not much effort, but Geralt allows himself the game—in part because he wants to make her wait just a little. He peers through leaves like he's searching for her, sweeping through the room.

Eventually, he stops before a section of shrubbery near one of the dangling swings. Behind it, he can hear her fluttering heart.

He reaches in, fingers curling around her wrist. She smells like the plants she's hidden amongst, sweet and light, her hair a hint mussed from the brush. He tugs her towards him, pinning her against the wall to kiss her and knocking one of the framed pictures askew.

His hand trails up her leg, towards the small of her back, already searching for a clasp or zipper to undo her outfit. ]

Found you.

[ He stops in front of her and her heart skips a beat even as she bites as her lip. When he reaches in and grabs her, she shrieks with delight, pulling back only just enough to say she did. Her grin betrays the movement, and she wraps her arms around him when he presses her to the wall. ]

Oh no, whatever am I gonna do? Have mercy, Mr. Wolf.

[ Her leg hikes up around his hip, knee curled. There is no closure of any kind to the costume; the thing might as well be painted onto her like the gold tint to her skin. Hands slipping under the collar of his shirt, she digs her nails into his back hard, eyes dark as she watches him. ]

[ His lips curl into a crooked smile. It's not often he lets himself play, but she's better than most at getting him to go along—and perhaps the absurd costume he puts on every year helps.

He searches for a second longer before he realizes what's going on, that there isn't anything to undo.

All right. That rather makes it simpler. ]

Hm. [ He presses his lips to the underside of her jaw. As he does, his nails turn to claws. They catch in the fabric painted onto her and begin to tear it down the back. ] Convince me.

[ She did, briefly, consider a fairytale theme just to be able to dress as Little Red Riding Hood, but then decided she didn't want to be responsible for having to educate everyone from other worlds and cultures just to get through the party. Maybe one day, though. (She does already have the costume in her closet.)

His claw drags down her back, just barely grazing her and sending a shock that runs parallel down her spine. Her neck stretches as he kisses her, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. Heat builds underneath her skin. ]

And if I can't? [ With flat palms, she runs her hands over his shoulders, down his chest. Her fingers worm their way under the hem of his shirt. ] You gonna gobble me up?

[ She can tell him the tale one day, at least. Stories of wolves or foxes and hunters are not uncommon, but he won't have heard of one involving a wolf in a bonnet.

Too bad he's not the type to arrive as the wolf dressed like grandmother.

He tears more of her outfit, enough to pull the lacy mesh off her shoulder. As her hands slide under his shirt, he shrugs off his leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor. He sheds his tail after just to get it out of the way and kicks the whole thing aside. ]

I might. [ He slides his leg between hers. His thumb presses to her lower lip. She's so rarely painted in all dark colours except on these occasions, and he likes seeing it. ] Might do that, anyway.

Then I guess I'm doomed, ain't I?

[ Her outfit tears more as she moves, the one sleeve detaching entirely but still wrapped around her arms. His skin is hot against her hands, her nails digging into his sides as she pulls at him.

With an impish smirk, she nips at his thumb before she closes her lips around it. Her teeth drag and there's black lipstick on his hand when she pulls back, her head falling against the wall. ]

'Cause queens don't beg.

[ His eyes are fixed on her inky lips. He smiles a little wider. A part of him is teasing for the hell of it, but another part of him likes to test her mood, too—to see what she happens to be after tonight. ]

Who said anything about begging?

[ He's easily convinced in many ways. But it doesn't matter, anyhow; he's already tearing the rest of that fabric off her other shoulder, her chest, until he can spread his fingers over her bare back. Her pulse thunders in his ears, and he can feel blood rushing to the surface of his skin.

Then he kisses her again. She's taller in her heels, and he only needs to lean down a bit to capture her lips. That's when he finally undresses all of her, letting the rest shred under his claws. Scraps of fabric flutter to the floor. He wraps one hand around a rope holding a swing and tangles the other in her hair. His knee nudges between her legs. ]

[ Her costume falls in tatters around her feet, bits still looped around her wrists and ankles. He kisses her and she grabs his face with her nails digging in, her other hand pulling so impatiently at his shirt that it begins to tear at the neck. Everything about the way she moves is vicious and desperate; she bites at his lips and pulls back against his fingers in her hair. He's got her pinned too well for her to actually do much more, but she rocks onto his thigh as she gasps for breath, looking up at him with blown-out eyes. ]

Baby.

[ It's all she says, and her voice is more growl than purr. She's not fighting him for dominance, but she's staring at him like she might try to eat him alive. ]

[ A flurry of hands and tangled legs culminates in his shirt on the ground, one boot missing from his foot. He kicks the other off with a distant thump. With all her pulling, his hair begins to fall loose. One of the fuzzy ears becomes set askew.

He lets her ride him for a moment; he can feel her heat radiating against his leg, and he trails his lips down to the side of her throat. His teeth dig in hard enough to leave a mark.

Too bad it won't manifest outside. But he can leave different ones later.

Soon enough, he replaces his knee with his hand, pressing his palm between her thighs. He coaxes her hand lower, too, until her fingers send bright sparks dancing up his spine. She can consume as much of him as she wants. It's no secret how much he wants her, how much he likes it when she looks at him as though he's the only thing occupying her thoughts. ]

[ Her head falls back to the wall with a soft noise, throat bared to him as she closes her eyes. There's a bit of a limit on her range of motion when she's caught between him and the wall like this, but her grip is firm; the nails of her other hand rake through his hair, down his arm and back.

Managing to catch her breath somewhat, she tilts her face back down to him, capturing his mouth for a moment with hers before she murmurs. ] Thought you were hungry.

[ A quiet noise follows. ] Maybe I like to see you hungrier.

[ Is that possible? Perhaps not. He won't tease for much longer; as soon as she releases his cock, he spins her around, pushing her back up against the wall. His gaze roams over her for a moment, the arch of her spine.

Then he's wrapping one hand around her wrist to pin it, too, before he sinks inside her with a heavy exhale. Her skin burns against his. He sweeps her braid, pressing his lips to a bare shoulder. An ache begins to pulse at his core, one that leaves him with a barely contained shudder. ]

[ He spins her and she gasps, then giggles breathlessly as he presses her back up to the wall. Rising on her toes, she widens her stance and cants her hips, inner thighs shining in the light that slips through the leaves of the plants all around.

A soft moan escapes when he slides into her, her eyelids fluttering and her forehead touching the wall. Her fingertips briefly go white from how hard she pushes them into the surface of the wall; her free arm stretches back and clutches his leg, nails digging in. Heat runs through her veins from center outward, so scorching that she can already feel sweat beading behind her knees and along her spine.

Clawing gracelessly at his thigh, she lets out a plaintive whimper. ]

[ Here was once the only place they could have each other. Now that they're no longer separate in the physical realm, he enjoys indulging in the Horizon on occasion. Some things are not the same—for Geralt, it's impossible to forget everything in this place is a creation of the mind—but there's a certain freedom to be had, too.

Like how he doesn't really give a shit about the gouges in her wall, left behind from his claws. Or the potted fern that tumbles off the shelf and shatters, scattering dirt and broken pieces clay on her floors. It'll all be put right when she next returns.

Nails dig into his thigh. His breaths come heavier, sharper. Her scent grows thicker, and he lets his hand trail across her stomach before gliding up towards her breast. ]

[ While she will clean up the plant, the scratches in the wall will most likely remain for quite some time. It's not like she often has anyone in here inspecting the place for damage, and it's her fucking domain anyway. She'll keep her sex trophies where she pleases.

Her fingers grow slippery with perspiration against the wall, sliding a little every time she thinks she's found some purchase -- it's mostly his claws holding her in place, scraping the inside of her wrist. Her spine is curved so far back that it hurts to breathe, just a little, with her skin stretched tight over her ribs and his steady rhythm punching into her from below. She feels like she's floating on a cloud.

Julie lets her neck flop bonelessly backward to rest her head against his shoulder. She turns and looks up at him through fluttering lashes with a glaze over her eyes; his skin has gone pale and his veins dark, and he's just so fucking pretty that she can barely stand it. Her ears are filled with a rushing sound and her own choked gasps.

Releasing his leg, she fumbles up his arm until she finds his hand with her own shaking one. With a shuddering mewl, she tugs his hand back down, her grip weak but insistent, pushing his fingers between her thighs. ]

[open] Happy Halloween~

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