HAPPY HALLOWEEN ABRAXAS

[princessvegas]

Who: Julie Lawry and YOU, everyone
Where: The Horizon, Julie's domain
When: Halloween
What: P A R T Y
Warnings: alcohol, drugs, general party stuff. please put cws in subject lines if they come up!

01 | WAIT
It isn't hard to find Julie's domain. As she had told anyone who visited her prior to this evening, all you ever need to do is follow the music. For a hundred yards in any direction, muffled bass radiates through air. Neon illuminates the entrance in pink, lights a path along the pink carpet and pink velvet rope barricade. The huge double doors are what stick out. Covering the frosted glass, lit from behind, are dozens of bloody splatters and handprints, some of which appear to have been dragged off to the side. Written in giant letters of blood, the door reads TURN BACK NOW.

True to the invite that everyone accidentally received in their vision (most people also got a paper copy left in their domain -- like hell was she going to put in the effort and then throw it away), the doors of Julie's club remain firmly closed until exactly 10pm. At 10, the neon abruptly extinguishes itself and the music goes silent, leaving the area in pitch black quiet. The doors swing open on their own and fog floods out as screams echo from within. The bass starts back up, reverberating at frequency designed to shake the human body from within.

The screams raise to a fever pitch as the lights suddenly come back on, timed to sync with cannons that fire black and red confetti over everyone waiting. It's time.

02 | DANCE
Inside, the entire club has been decorated to appear as if it had sprouted in a desolate forest under a harvest moon, represented by a massive orange orb suspended from the ceiling. Barren trees sprout from the slick black floor, moss and spiders cloaking their protruding roots. In the upper levels of the branches, bodies swing in nonexistent winds, hanging on rotted ropes, bloodied sacks covering their heads. The bar is draped in more moss and spiderwebs, and a bartender dressed as a very convincing zombie is already pouring drinks into the many glasses waiting to be drunk. The bartender's name is Steven, if you need anything, and every drink he makes is the best drink you've ever had. There are tubs of water where you can bob for miniature bottles of Fireball, which must be immediately taken as a shot upon winning one, and some tables bear trays of shot glasses, each one with little floating eyeballs or brains in the drink (they're gummies, and safe to consume). There is a buffet of candy and various creepy snacks against one wall, though it also bears literal dishes of drugs for the taking; bowls of pills and plates of cocaine, and of course, a whole cauldron filled with large blunts and packages of edibles in every variety imaginable, all free for the taking.

The booths and seating are all black now, and look like they've been left to decay for years. More orange orbs light each table. The music is loud, but only comfortably so -- never so loud that it makes conversation difficult. The dance floor is lit from underneath, and strobes in time with the beat. There are already people dancing, although fewer than usual, and though they're all in costume, they ignore everyone unless directly interacted with. These are manifested people, designed to make sure that Julie is never alone, and she doesn't have the heart to unmake them, so instead, they're used as moving decor. The DJ booth looms large above the dance floor, set into the VIP balcony. Blood persistently drips from the edge of the balcony, though it never seems to accumulate anywhere in particular. A separate, smaller stage is set off to one side, with a professional karaoke setup; it's not lit up for use, but can be with the flip of a switch.

03 | SCREAM
If you move through the club, as if to get to the back wall, you'll find that the light gradually grows more sterile and the music fades as the furnishings become sparser and sparser. Eventually, you'll find yourself in what appears to be an abandoned, empty warehouse. The floor is filthy, and there's an ominous industrial fan set in the far back wall, wooshing as it slowly turns. The overhead lighting flickers off and on.

There's a separate structure, two stories and boxy, that's been roped off to prevent entry -- private quarters that Julie put in later, a lofted apartment in case she wants to be somewhere a bit more quiet, with the modern conveniences that she doesn't have outside the Horizon.

But there's a larger structure, shrouded in darkness, and this building-within-a-building has a wide open door. Screaming and violent noises ring from within, and a crooked sign, lit up in black light with glowing white print, points the way in, asking everyone who sees it FEELING BRAVE?.

Inside the haunted house, there is only black light and various glowing colors, all mimicking the negative of a scene from a horror movie. Following the path and noise seems safe at first; though there are creepy things and the feeling of phantom cobwebs accosting you at every turn, there is nobody around. That is, until you turn the first corner. As you do, people in all black with only neon and fluorescent paint to define them begin to swarm at you, cackling and brandishing glowing weapons. They're surprisingly energetic for manifested people, and Julie has worked very hard to get them to do what she wants. They're aggressive but in a defined way; they chase but don't touch, lunge but allow people to escape. They seem to come from nowhere, every time you feel just a little bit less nervous. (If struck, they respond only by immediately leaving the area.) The sound effects crescendo as you come out of the other side, where a table of picture frames hold photos of your funniest scared faces during the experience. They're free for the taking, although of course they can't be taken back to Abraxas, and a celebratory drink accompanies each snapshot. A pink carpet leads the way back to the club.

The night is yours.

[ ooc notes: The pictures are mostly to give a vibe. Since the Horizon is amazing, feel free to presume things look much much much better IC. If you would like a better idea of what her domain actually looks like, please click here! ]

Comments

Julie Lawry | The Stand | The Wheel of Fortune

[princessvegas]

01 | WAIT
[ Once the doors open and people begin to enter, if they look up to the VIP balcony, they'll see one very pleased-looking, mostly sober deer waving at them. The manifested partygoers around her seem pale in comparison, as if the color has simply been washed out of their very being. But it could also be the sheer magnitude of how brightly Julie's happiness radiates out. This is her favorite holiday, her favorite activity, and for once, she genuinely has the limitless power to make it everything she ever wanted. Once money and realism stop being an issue, well, just look at what she's capable of.

While the crowd streams in, she heads downstairs. If she knows you, there's a good chance you feel a hand on your arm or brushing against your back before she ever reaches anywhere near you -- while she's known for a while, she hasn't shared with anyone that the power she took from the Horizon upon her first visit was the ability to touch things from across a room, an invisible ghostly extension of her own arm. She doesn't even have to raise a finger; a mere thought is enough. Until now, she's mostly used it in her barmaid job, to keep steins on counters, to sharply pinch patrons who get too handsy. But tonight seems as good a time as ever to debut it. ]

02 | DANCE
[ Julie flits through the party like butterfly, and it is abundantly clear (possibly for the first time) that she is actually good at something. At this. In another life, she would have been a party planner to the elite, but in this one, she is taking full advantage of her now-boundless ability to actually make it all a reality.

And she is a hostess whose very soul is dedicated to making sure everyone is enjoying themselves. She seems to have an instinct, an innate gift for finding anyone who needs anything and supplying it. Drink getting low? She sends another. Feeling hungry? She'll appear to insist that you come try these caramel apples, sug. Not used to lights and noise like this? There she is at your elbow, gently ushering you to a far booth where things are a little more calm.

But most of all, she's there to drag wallflowers onto the dance floor. ]

03 | AFTER
[ Her sparkle doesn't start to dim at all until most people have taken their leave and left the Horizon. By this point, she is actually tired -- she's been having to concentrate to control her manifested friends into doing more than simply existing. This late, she's let them go, and they no longer respond to anyone at all. They just dance quietly, which is eerie but she can't be bothered to care at the moment. She's sure they'll be back in full form tomorrow.

For now, though, she rests in a back booth, closer to her loft than the dance floor, with her feet propped on the table, ankles crossed. She has a drink and a blunt, and is now just basking in the satisfaction of an excellent party.

If only she didn't have to go back to shitty renn faire world sooner rather than later. ]

04 | WILDCARD
[ for anything else or to plot, hmu @ sarahwand or bitchcraft#2753 💖 ty everyone for indulging me, and especially ty Noa for prereading the post and giving me feedback! ]

dance

[impressionism]

[ Hennessy isn't overly fond of accessing the Horizon, but she'd caught wind of the party happening and made an exception, since the festival back in Thorne had been excessively rustic for her tastes.

She's still attired in an array of Halloween accessories, including a flowered headband with small demon horns attached, glittering rings shaped like spiders, pumpkin-shaped mardi gras beads, tiny sequined bat wings, and a few more assorted flowers she's plucked from her own domain-- all of them thorny and poisonous-looking. She dances with the appearance of careless abandon, helped there by the assortment of substances on offer. It's the first time in months she's felt anything like that familiar rush of a few hours' freedom, and she intends to enjoy it.

She spots the deer making her rounds and flashes a brilliant smile; let it never be said she can't be charming when it suits her. ]

Thank fuck someone here understands how to throw a party; I was going to die of the sheer wholesomeness of the other place in another hour or two.

[princessvegas]

[ While Julie would have preferred that everyone wear a coherent costume, a random and way too large assortment of Halloween accoutrements is also acceptable. This is a woman who had never heard the words "too much" before. It's only her dedication to Halloween that prevents her from also wearing a motley collection of just stuff, although before she got dressed for the party, she was definitely wearing several pieces of spooky jewelry and a tiny witch hat.

Beaming, Julie moves effortlessly through the crowd; her partygoers part for her like the Red Sea for Moses. Perks of being their creator. Once she gets to the other woman, she holds her hand out. ]

We got the best place in the world to throw parties, I wasn't gonna let it go to waste on Halloween! I'm Julie, what's your name? I didn't get to meet a lotta people before we left.

03.

[gynvael]

[ It isn't often Geralt's one of the last to leave a gathering, but he's lingered in part because he has, day by day, grown tired of the crowded city out there and its dusty sand, its dry shrubs. Nothing that he cares to hasten back to. The other part is he's simply interested in catching Julie's company now that she isn't fluttering from guest to guest.

A certain two have wrangled him into something deemed suitable, and though Geralt's rid himself of the fur-collared coat Jaskier had insisted would complete the look (it's hot and overbearing), the fuzzy white ears and tail are still present, attached with Horizon magic to his otherwise typically dark attire. Some semblance of a loose braid or two remains in his hair. And—fine. Ciri's delight makes the bother worth it. Even if, thanks to Jaskier singing for the whole fucking room about the White Wolf, his look is now even less subtle than it already was.

So much for anonymity upon on a new sphere. At least it's quieter now, Jaskier having gone off someplace for the night with the others.

Julie's floral antlers are not difficult to spot from a distance. Geralt crosses the floor to her booth. She does make for a striking deer—though there isn't much, really, that'd not flatter her.

He sits on the table next to her propped up feet. A bottle of some ale or other is in one hand; in his other is a drink of the same as what she's currently getting through, which he sets down for her. (A wolf and a doe. There's a joke in there somewhere.) ] Finished for the night?

01

[productid4]

[Louis doesn't really need a costume in the Horizon, but he wears one anyway. He puts a fanged deer skull over his head, and he looks like some deer version of a vampire, or perhaps of death.

He still does a double-take when he sees his host.

As she gets close, he says dryly,]

Well, one of us has to change.

[The dry joke does well at deflecting his genuine bafflement at seeing someone dress up like a deer. He's not so sure how he feels about a carnivore dressing up like a herbivore, either.]

dance dance babeyyy

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri is one of the old-timey people feeling a bit. Overwhelmed. And practically setting down roots as a wallflower near the bar. She's got a cocktail in one hand as liquid courage (mixed drinks are a novelty, and so is the tiny sword propping up a wedge of lime in her gin rickey), and the other fidgets with the pearls on her borrowed necklace as she glances around.

Julie appears out of nowhere. It's the music (the too-loud thrum of noise that is supposed to be music) or the lights (disorienting) but Ciri honestly doesn't even see her coming. Which is a lot more unnerving and unusual than Julie might realize. ]

Fuck. You startled me.

01

[aquaveiled]

[ Halloween and All Saints' Wake do really have a lot in common! The decore is like an Allagan take off the modern tradition, which is kind of exciting in and of itself. Truthfully it's been a while since she's gotten to actually celebrate and she is only too glad to take the opportunity to see more of what people are doing in Horizon. People watching in and of itself is a hobby.

That being said, there is a lot going on here and Himeka did not get the memo that body suits and minimal clothing were the go-to for women's costumes. Instead, she shows up in her ghostly best as she shuffles about. It's the people waving up at the balcony that...must be the host? She does seem to be greeting everyone. ]

Hello!

[ She waves one sheeted hand, her tail actually making the back of the ghost's body undulate oddly too as it waves. ]

I brought the fireballs!

2

[girl_at_the_window]

[Susan's in that awkward stage of not-drunk-enough where everything is, instead of being fuzzy, way too clear. She hasn't really been drunk a whole lot, but she's not sure this is how it's supposed to go. Whether drinking makes you happy, or angry, or maudlin, surely it's supposed to soften the edges?]

[Right now, everything feels hard. She's perched on a barstool, trying her best to keep her legs together so she doesn't flash too much in the shortest dress she's ever worn, arranging and rearranging her long golden curls over her shoulders as though she can't decide whether she wants them to hide her cleavage or accentuate the way she's dressed. She's nursing a cocktail at the same time, her shoulders a little hunched, looking furtive and, frankly, miserable.]

[This all seemed like a way better idea before she was actually here. Now, while there's still that spiteful urge in her to have fun or die trying, it's ebbing in the face of her own doubts. There's a kind of sick guilt in the pit of her stomach at how she's carrying on, and the outfit that felt daring when she agreed, giggling, to wear it now just makes her feel cheap. Everything feels too busy, too loud. Too bright.]

[She's relieved to see Julie, then, and hops down off her barstool to greet her hostess, tugging at the hem of her dress as she does. She's smiling, but there's a certain anxious look in her eyes.]

Ye're sure I shouldn't've made this skirt longer?

Jaskier | The Witcher | The Sun

[cointosser]

02 | Dance - Moving About/Learning the Importance in a Good, Slutty Costume | OTA
[To a man from Jaskier's particular time period, all of this is... far beyond his ken. Not that he would dare let that stop him from attending a party -- even more so, a party he was personally invited to! (Whether or not Julie intended to personally invite him before accidentally sending a global invitation into his eyes is of no relevance.) A modern club has absolutely no equivalence on the Continent.

Actually, the cacophony coming out of the club has no equivalence, either. Perhaps the clash of two armies on a battlefield would be this loud? He's not sure. This music -- if one can consider it that (and it's so terribly hard to not be snobbish about it) -- is so thunderous it shakes the ground. If he hadn't dragged Geralt and Ciri (the latter with much less dragging) with him, he's quite sure he may not have been so... sure about this. One can be sensitive about loud noises after... er, quite nearly getting his arm blown off. It's probably for the best he shows up so fashionably late as to have missed all the screaming from before.

As they move in, he spins to take it all in. And though he is now dressed in a traditional masquerade costume -- complete with mask, and half-cape, and boots up to his thighs -- he's quite sure he's overdressed. Terribly overdressed.

This will need to be fixed. (Gods, he's never seen so much skin in one place at once. Except that last orgy. Different scene, of course.) He breaks from his company and plucks up a drink, taking in the dancers moving across the floor. Right as he brings the shot up to his mouth, he makes a noise of surprise.]

Oh! Gods. Oh. Dear. [He lowers it, poking the floating eye with a finger.] This is beginning to feel more like a cannibal's soiree. [He plucks the offending sphere out and places it on the bar counter, swallowing the shot in one gulp. His eyes return to the crowd, his body already growing warmer from the packed bodies and the atmosphere.

At least the other guests provide more than enough to take in. And as he does, leaning against the bar and watching them, his costume begins changing, strips of clothing peeling away. Ah. He has the perfect idea.

Ram horns appear, curled and pointed, at the sides of his head. Pale and colored swirling designs paint themselves across his skin as his chest is bared to the world. The lines accentuate the form of his body, especially the long, jagged scar down his arm, the first time he shows it so boldly. The boots he once wore, high up along his thigh, now seem to resemble a succubus's hooves, and flowers sprout, tangled in his hair.

Oh, yes. Yes! Much better. Much more... him. If this is the sort of influence he receives, then he can certainly get with this sort of party.]

02 | Dance - Closed to Geralt
[Jaskier knows Geralt is absolutely going to hate it. And probably never expect him to have changed his costume after their arrival.

Which is what makes it so brilliant. This endless magic, waiting to be used for... the silliest things. After the last few dreadfully depressing weeks, he needs this.

It has never been difficult for him to find Geralt in a crowd, though certainly this one is much thicker than he's used to. But find the Witcher he does, who is dressed, of course, by yours personally, with Ciri's help and encouragement (and their combined power to bend Geralt to their will). Perhaps the wolf ears and tail are far too on the nose for the White Wolf, but the idea is that Geralt looks fun, even if he's miserable.

Jaskier finds him, rounding on him with a whipcord tail following him. He grins with sharpened teeth.] Oooh, nooo.... a Witcher! Please don't slay me, White Wolf, I promise I'm one of the good monsters. I'd never hurt a fly, let alone such a strapping man.

[His tail smacks Geralt's hip. The Horizon really makes things far too fun. Especially when he's... three drinks in. Maybe four.]

03 | Dance - One Man vs. A Karaoke Mic - OTA
[It is no surprise that hearing someone singing over the background thumping attracts his attention. (They are not even close to talented.) However, that's not what's fascinating. It's that their singing is so loud. As he steps around the stage, he finds the voice is actually coming from boxes.

It's strange magic, but that's not important. What is important is that one cannot ignore the singing coming from this box.

After the last patron leaves a black object which he can only akin to some sort of... lopsided hammer... he picks it up and gently taps it with a finger.]

Hello?

[His voice echoes as his eyes grow wider, glowing. Oh. Oh, this is delightful.

There might words floating on something in front of him, possibly indicating that he should be paying attention to it. He's not. He is, instead, a succubus who is belting out his breakout single, Toss a Coin to Your Witcher, and with the help of Horizon magic, it is as beautiful as ever.

You're welcome, the entirety of the party.]

03 | Scream - OTA
[FEELING BRAVE? is a loaded question when one rarely does feel actually brave. Bravery is more like knowing when to get the fuck out of there when one is in danger. So he stands, staring at this gaping mouth of an entrance, with screams and flickering lights, rubbing the scar of his arm.

It is worth bearing in mind, of course, that he cannot be harmed in the Horizon. (As far as he knows.) Considering this is a party, he sincerely doubts anything in it is even dangerous.

And yet. If you're on your way inside, it might be obvious this succubus has been standing there for quite a while, determining whether he really is FEELING BRAVE. By the way the little whipcord tail behind him swings with anxiety, er. Probably not.]

You've definitely seen worse. Even in the back alleys of Novigrad. You've definitely heard worse. Far worse. Even cats fucking sounds worse. For sure.

[Yes, he's giving himself a pep talk.]

02.

[gynvael]

[ Having somewhat agreed to attend before Jaskier and Ciri ever had to convince him, Geralt should not entirely blame this on either of them. And yet. He will. Because he feels as fucking ridiculous as he most likely looks. He's attended masquerades before. He can put up with the formality of a masked outfit, even if it annoys him. This is—not that. It's the outfit of one who might be part of a troupe rolling through town.

Still. It's made Ciri laugh and it's apparently required. So he's wearing it, fluffy white wolf ears and tail and all. It helps everyone appears dressed to a roughly equal degree of absurdity: tails, horns, capes.

Though speaking of absurdity. Even over the pounding music (how is it that loud?) that's giving him a damn headache, he can hear Jaskier sidle up behind him. And while he does not know why there's a tail snaking across his hip, Geralt snatches it in his hand on instinct, spinning around to stare at the bard. Who is now—

—Oh, for fuck's sake.

He lets go of the tail. Really? He sighs. His eyes travel down the length of Jaskier's body, and then back up. (It is deeply irritating that Jaskier has made himself into a startlingly accurate image of a succubus, which means he has listened to some of the things Geralt tells him.) ]

Jaskier, you're hurting me by forcing me to look upon this nonsense.

03 | Karaoke

[princessvegas]

[ It's not that Julie actually cares about people using the karaoke machine. If she cared, she would have gotten rid of it before the party. What actually drives her toward it is that it's playing a song she has never heard before, which she's pretty sure is impossible. So of course she needs to investigate.

Of course, once she gets there, it clicks into place in her mind, who this must be. She doesn't know Julian/Jaskier by face, of course, but he is the only person to express interest in such a thing. She's not surprised he found it on his own.

Is this song about Witchers? Wait, what the fuck, is this the poetry that Ciri was talking about? Julie doesn't find it particularly compelling (she can think of a lot of better things to put in a song about Geralt, most of which do not involve monsters or paying), but she cheers when he finishes all the same, applauding and whistling between her fingers. ]

Bravo! [ Her voice drops a bit, then rises again. ] Not exactly Lady Gaga, but bravo!

toss a coin to your bard.

[wiedzminka]

[ By simply looking, Ciri might not have recognized him. But she knows that voice. And that song. She may be the only actually singing along, but some of the people-shaped constructs of Julie's domain seem to be making an attempt to mouth the words as well just to help with the atmosphere, swaying to the music.

After the performance, Ciri claps enthusiastically, beaming up at Jaskier with her temporary vampire fangs on full display -- a little Horizon-magic prop meant to complete her ensemble, along with the pearl and ruby necklace Julie made for her. ]

Jaskier! What are you wearing?

[ Says the woman in a full pleather jumpsuit and five inch heels. ]

dance but like after all the other stuff

[princessvegas]

[ When Julie crosses the dance floor, it is with a distinct sense of purpose that seems to almost border on giddy. The manifested dancers automatically move out of her way, so it's a true beeline that she's making for him. She's beaming, and when she reaches Jaskier, she wraps her arm around his with the air of someone who does not give a shit about personal boundaries. ]

Jaskier, how are you doing? Still havin' fun?

Gideon Nav | The Locked Tomb | Strength

[frontlinetitties]

Dance

[This is only the third party that Gideon has ever attended, the first of which being a rather dry affair back at Canaan House, the second being the welcoming festivities in Thorne. Which is to say, nothing quite like this. It's unsettling in an entirely new way-- not because of the creatively creepy decor - which, if anything, make her feel almost (almost) at home, and more to do with the way the music thuds through her body and makes it thrum, like she's seconds away from a fucking heart attack. It's the way the lights dip and strobe and glitter, pitching her toward a strange sense of disorientation. She's yet to decide whether she fucking hates it, or whether she wants more of it. She isn't in fancy dress, the concept of which is somewhat beyond her, but the very fact that she's come dressed as herself, face paint and all, might leave those who don't know her with the impression that she's made some kind of effort after all.

Not knowing precisely what one does at a party, she can be found milling about, looking on uncertainly as she tries to sus out the proper protocol for an occasion such as this.]

Food and drink
[Perhaps you'll find her poking at the food, her face screwed up into a very definite what the fuck expression. She'll turn to whoever's nearest to her, and maybe she's indicating toward the Skull cones, or gingerly prodding at a meat-wrapped eyeball]

This shit is meant to be edible?

Drugs
[Alternatively, she might be surveying the drugs buffet, arms folded across her chest and expression set into a picture of confusion as she looks down at the platter of cocaine, the little bowls of pills.]

And this stuff is...?

[She'll turn toward whoever's in conversation range, hoping for some kind of explanation.]

Dancing-- early on
[She has never danced before. Isn't entirely sure what dancing is, which makes the fluid, sinuous movements of other people to the beat of the music seem strange to her, a little unnerving. Are they all okay? Are they succumbing to some sort of mass hypnotism thanks to the strange, bone-deep thud of the music? She stands on the periphery of the dancefloor, looking distinctly awkward and uncomfortable.]

Dancing-- later
[She hits her stride though, once the shots and the lines have kicked in, once her desire to be swept up in the moment and feel a part of something fractures through her Ninth House suspicion. Then she's dancing hard and breathless, and if you happen to enter into her orbit she'll move to dance alongside you, or perhaps she's reaching out to catch you by the wrists, the waist, to sweep you up or dip you low, or spin you in toward her.]

I fucking love Halloween!

wildcard
[Anything else your heart desires! Surprise me, or hit me up via PM or brightflowers]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05CXzjS8HX4

[princessvegas]

[ The nearest person also happens to be the best one to explain it all, given that she's the one who created it. Julie smirks, starts pointing as she lists out all the various intoxicants available. ]

So, you got molly, addies, xannies if it gets to be too much, and weed, you can take the edibles if you're not much for a smoke. And this is the best.

[ Picking up a small silver platter, shiny enough to see her reflection in, she portions out a line with one nail, then puts her face to the metal and snorts it up. She comes up with a gasp and a smile, collects the leftover powder on her fingertip and rubs it on her gums. ]

Coke. Greatest thing in the world. Here. [ She offers the tray to Gideon. ]

dancing, later (gotta make harrow even more jealous right)

[wiedzminka]

[ The so-called 'music' and 'dancing' haven't quite grown on Ciri so much as she's just... had enough to drink by now that being urged onto the dance floor doesn't result in her wanting to immediately skitter away back into one of the booths. Steven the bartender, for someone who isn't quite real, can make a mean drink after all. And the sweet, colorful concoctions she's been informed are 'cock tails' (what a stupid name) end up being a lot stronger than they taste.

The end result is a very drunk Witcher girl lurching around on the dance floor, staring mesmerized at several of Julie's Domain-people twerking on each other. Between that and the flashing lights and the noise and the copious amounts of liquor, her senses are entirely overwhelmed.

In other words: she is a prime target.

Gideon grabs her around the waist, so quickly and smoothly Ciri didn't even see her coming. (How could she, all things considered?) Ciri yelps, tipping backward in what probably looks like a perfectly choreographed low dip to anyone watching-- until she flips right over the back of Gideon's arm to land like a startled cat on the other side. Thankfully, she recognizes the voice and the hair despite the skull paint, before she can manifest something sharp and stabby with which to have her revenge. ]

Y-you...!

Nadine Cross | The Stand | The World

[nadine_he_loves]

[The last Halloween party Nadine had gone to...had been in an elementary school gymnasium and she'd been chaperoning. Halloweens were typically staying late at the school to oversee the after-school holiday activities, chaperoning if she was on chaperone duty, and home on the couch with a glass of wine and a stack of projects to grade by 8 o'clock. Even in college, she'd stopped in at one frat house party and left about ten minutes later. She'd just never been much of a party person.

But the idea of the familiar is so appealing right now, and what else is she going to do? Julie even figured out a costume for her. Not anything she ever would have picked for herself, but for the last fifteen years her only costumes had been a drug store witch hat or animal ear headband.

Halloween hits differently when you've been haunted by dark forces since puberty.

Anyway, it's a party. And she can use it. In the last few weeks Nadine has been withdrawn and keeping to herself. Too lost in her own dark mood under too many unpleasant thoughts. But she's here, feeling a little awkward over how much leg she's displaying, and trying to enjoy all the effort Julie put into this. At least there's plenty of party favors. In the dance area Nadine is eyeing the various offerings with a slight frown, unsure of just how much she wants to indulge. This is the Horizon, it's not as though it will carry over to the physical world, but still. There's a lot of people here and she doesn't have much of a tolerance. Or experience beyond drinking now and then and a few joints here and there.

Similarly she can be found contemplating the haunted house. On the one hand, she's no stranger to horror. On the other...this is bound to be more than your average haunted house. Besides, those things are always a lot less fun when experienced alone...]

I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to too.

[princessvegas]

[ There's a deep irony in the fact that the person who fit into New Vegas least of all was supposed to be its queen. It's an irony that is still not lost on Julie, even this far from their home, that He built a city that was meant for someone like Julie, then put his stock into quiet, mousy Nadine.

It's in the past, but it's still a twinge in the back of her mind.

Julie's voice calls over the music, sing-song and sweet, Nadiiiiiine, and she approaches from behind. An invisible hand wraps around one of Nadine's shoulder as Julie leans over the other, takes a pill from a bowl and holds it to Nadine's mouth with a grin. ]

Open up, babe. How do you get the rugrats to do it, "here comes the airplane"?

haunted house.

[wiedzminka]

[ She is not the only one contemplating the haunted house.

Ciri -- dressed as a sexy vampire -- stands outside it, stiff and uncertain, eyes narrowed at the sign. It's a good thing Julie warned her all the "scary stuff" is supposed to be for fun and atmosphere, or it would be a lot more alarming, and she might have manifested a sword much more real than her for-show fangs and claws by now.

As it is, she's just... standing there. A little curious, a bit intimidated, and a lot confused. ]

What is the point of this?

[cointosser]

[Coming in from here because Julie is an expert wingman.]

[He has no idea what Julie's told Nadine of him so far, but apparently being cute and being a musician is enough for her, which he is happy to hear. He imagines if she's friends with Julie, she must either be exuberant like her, or a cooling force to meet the bit of energetic whirlwind that is their pink-haired host. (He knows that duo of personalities well.)

He's flexible.

More importantly, if all of that was true, this is about more than offering a bit of sex. (It's not out of the question.) He really would rather no one go without company tonight. He sees now why Julie was happy to share her herbs. It's... he wants to share this, too. How good it all feels.

So he approaches Nadine in her angel costume (whatever that is; but it accentuates her body in a very flattering way) with two drinks in his hands. With a charming smile and a small bow, he offers her a drink.]

You must be Nadine. Jaskier, at your service. [Up close he can see she's older than the usual fare he meets here, which is quite relieving, honestly. A bit too long in some places in Cadens and he feels like a grandfather.] I believe Julie's grand scheme is to throw us together without a hint of decorum. She did assure me you agreed.

[It's a quiet question: that's true, isn't it? Not that he takes Julie as particularly nefarious, but.]

And she said you deserve the best. I'm quite happy to offer whatever I can, as far as company is concerned.

[Which, if you ask him, is the best. But one must appear humble to new company.]

haunted house

[aquaveiled]

[ A haunted house? Well, what could be better than to be accompanied by a spooky spirit? When Himeka had made the connection of the similarities between "Halloween" and All Saints' Wake, it all seemed to fall into place.

Sort of.

At least she was able to conjure up her tried and true costume for the last few years. In part because, well, she enjoys playing the part!

Which is why despite the fact that it is clearly some sort of glowing sheet with a pumpkin on her head, Himeka tip toes up to this woman standing in thought at the entrance... ]

Boo!

Ciri | The Witcher | The Devil

[wiedzminka]

OPEN | drinks & dares.

[ Ciri is... doing her best. This is a lot, okay? The flashing lights, the noise (it's not really what she considers music), the not-exactly-real crowds of people wiggling about on the dance floor, the sheer variety of costumes and the echoes of screams occasionally piercing through the bass beat (that she had to be assured of several times now are fake, for "fun"). Julie had talked up Halloween so much, and Ciri was quite excited for the festivities. She's even dressed in the sexy vampire costume Julie introduced her to, complete with bloody necklace and ridiculous tall heels. (Yes, she is over six feet tall in them. You're welcome.)

But nothing could have actually prepared her for what these festivities would actually entail, not even having glimpsed a large variety of worlds on her own adventures already. She'd seen all sorts of things before, but never a proper modern club.

So Ciri is at the bar, a place she can understand the function of despite its unfamiliar look. Time to gather some good old liquid courage. She tells Steven "Surprise me." And surprise her he does. ]

There's... a tiny sword in this?! [ Ciri lifts up the sword-shaped cocktail pick that was in her martini glass, along with the garishly bright red cherry impaled on its end, staring at it in open, if confused, delight. ]

* * *

[ Later, Ciri might be found at the Bobbing for Fireball station. Her hair is damp, and her makeup is a little smudged (nothing a mirror and a bit of Horizon magic can't fix), and she's already got a little bottle between her teeth. Which she would have uncorked just like that, except she realizes it's not a cork at all. Ciri fumbles with the tiny bottle's tiny cap. ]

You're supposed to drink the whole thing when you get one. [ she informs whoever is beside her, whether they were also participating or not. ] You should do it too.

[ Someone please warn her it tastes like a cinnamon punch in the mouth. ]


CLOSED | for alina.

[ She wasn't sure Alina would agree. So much has happened in just a couple short weeks, so much heartache and uncertainty, pain and loss. But that's precisely why Ciri had invited her, just as Jaskier (and Julie, of course) had convinced Ciri herself that letting loose and having a little fun might honestly be the best thing for all of them right now. And so, she'd asked -- a little timid, red-cheeked as she explained to Alina what the festival of Halloween is supposed to be and how she needs to wear a costume and makeup. If she needs ideas or assistance, Ciri is happy to help Alina plan in the Horizon, eager to explain how Julie had shown her all the different costumes and that one can dress as an animal or a monster or... a funny concept, apparently.

In the end, the party itself is more overwhelming than Ciri had expected. It takes her some time to work up the confidence, helped along by several drinks and private pep-talks in the glittering bathroom mirrors to herself.

But finally, she'd done it. She'd asked Alina to dance.

Now, if only they can... figure out how. To dance. To this cacophonous beat that isn't like any sort of dancing music Ciri's ever heard before. ]

So, er... how do you want to...?

[ Everyone else is sort of just wriggling and swaying like seaweed in a strong wave. Ciri blinks hard against the lights, looking down at Alina, and realizing suddenly she is... very tall. Her hands settle awkwardly on Alina's shoulders. She laughs, the colored lights obscuring how hot her face feels right now. ]

Sorry. I've never danced like this before. Or worn shoes like this. I can change them, if you prefer.

[solmate]

[ Alina feels like the outfit she normally wears in the Horizon is already a little eerie, so she just decides to lean into it. Her face is painted like a doe except in shades of grey, blue, and white instead of warm tans and browns. And of course, the antlers weaving in and out of her skin are both in the wrong spot and anatomically incorrect, but it doesn't seem like accuracy is really high on the priority list.

When she focuses hard enough, she can make the fetters disappear. With Ciri, she doesn't have to think of all the things that bind her. Even her collar is a costume now, something she can put on and take off as she pleases. It's a night where she can embrace being something other than being enslaved by saintly roles. Her robes traded for a leather corset and furred trousers that tighten into false hooves that wrap around her slightly heeled shoes.

Now, Alina hasn't been to many parties (and the last one she was at ended rather disastrously), but this is quite different than what she would expect anywhere in Ravka. She probably doesn't need to stand so close to Ciri to hear her, but she leans in to make sure she catches everything. Just in case.

Tall, tough, and gorgeous, it is a little endearing to watch her stumble over the words. ]

I haven't a clue either. [ But Alina is happy to laugh at how absolutely out of place they seem. She cranes her neck, trying to understand what everyone else is doing, swaying her hips in beat with the rest of the crowd. ] Here— like this I think?

[ It's a little awkward to reach all the way up to her shoulders, so Alina settles on her hips instead, gently encouraging her to follow the same rhythm. ]

drinks.

[gynvael]

[ Geralt, too, can be found at the bar. It's the most familiar section of this entire place, which isn't even very because there are dozens of bottles lined at the back and several styles of cups and goblets he's never seen before. He isn't surprised to find Ciri here, either, though.

He is, however, surprised to find her directly eye-level with him. She'd not yet been in that outfit when she'd arrived earlier to stick these furry ears and tail on him and braid a loose section of his hair. Or was it Jaskier? Geralt's not certain who's responsible for which part of his appearance; he'd been accosted by the two of them in equal fashion.

Geralt raises both eyebrows. That is a look. And he can tell it isn't one she came up on her own, because they both know vampires aren't. Like that. (With the exception of Alucard, who in Geralt's opinion is barely a vampire.) Actually, it takes him a split second to even realize that's what she's emulating, understanding only when her fangs flash as she reveals the tiny sword inside her drink. In theory, it should make him feel better, that they both undoubtedly feel faintly ridiculous, but Ciri somehow pulls it off and Geralt distinctly senses that he does not, in fact, pull off a thick fluffy tail in any damn way at all. At least he makes for a good source of amusement towards everyone he comes across. ]

Think it's the murder weapon for this poor bastard? [ Geralt plucks the jaunty little skeleton on a hollow stick out of his own glass. (It's a straw, but he's never seen a straw in his life.) ]

Susan Delgado | Dark Tower | The Lovers | CW: horny teen drinking and doing drugs

[girl_at_the_window]

[Aunt Cord would spit to see her like this. She can almost hear that nagging voice in the back of her head: too good to be a gilly, but not too good to dress like a cheap whore, ain't that it, Miss Oh-So-Young-And-Pretty? Her dress is cut higher than anything she's ever worn - even the horrible nightgown she'd been supposed to wear to seal the deal that last Reaping-night didn't show this much leg - and she'd never normally dream of wearing such dark lipstick or so much make-up at all, and Julie's taste in costumes definitely wouldn't have been at home in Hambry. She can imagine now how they'd look at her there, tutting and scolding, with that smug little undertone of satisfaction: we always knew that was the kind of girl she was. She can imagine the scandal.]

[Damned if that doesn't sweeten the deal.]

[To be honest, she wasn't sure about coming to this party, but it beats staying in the inn, thinking about stuffy-guys and Reaping-fires, listening to the celebrations outside. It beats hiding under the covers, licking her wounds. She's been doing that for days already, and she's sick of it - and here, she's not hurt, doesn't have to move gingerly to account for healing stitches, doesn't have fading bruises on her face. She doesn't have to care. She's so fucking sick of caring.]

[She spends the first hour or so on the outskirts of the party, because it's all well and good saying she doesn't care, but there's still a little bit of embarrassment rearing its head. Also - and maybe this is a little bit of an excuse - she doesn't have the faintest idea how to dance to this kind of music. It's easier to just linger near the bar, perching on a stool and knocking back glasses of something that burns on the way down. Her mood isn't the most stable - at times, she looks close to tears, and at other times, almost frightened - but she won't turn away company, either.]

[Eventually, the alcohol and the atmosphere do their work. Unlike Nott, this celebration doesn't have any of the trappings of Reaptide (beyond the drinking and dancing that go with any party) and despite the creepy décor, it's easier to relax as a result. And she's determined to have a good time, even if it kills her.]

[Some of that aggressive determination comes out on the dancefloor, where - finally drunk enough not to care that she doesn't know the moves - she finds herself doing a kind of stamping, flailing dance to the unfamiliar tunes, tossing her head so that her hip-length golden hair flies this way and that. If she spots someone likely, she may cross over to them, breathing heavily, drink in hand.]

Hey. Dance with me?