Julie Lawry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
princessvegas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-10-29 08:55 pm
princessvegas) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-10-29 08:55 pm
HAPPY HALLOWEEN ABRAXAS
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! ]
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! ]
no subject
His eyes are lowered while he traces the scar and when he looks back up, they land on Jaskier's lips. Hm. For the moment, he's content to let Jaskier do as he will, and if that includes pressing entirely too intimately against him, so be it. He rests one hand on Jaskier's hip, the lightest touch of his fingers. He will not say he isn't enjoying it. Or at least he finds it all...a novelty. Not Jaskier making it clear what he wants, but this. The morbid decor and music that pulses too fucking loud and the amount of liquor he can smell around him. It's a bit much. Were it not all in the Horizon, he'd be far more tense. But in here, it's safe enough and he's found if he focuses a bit, some of the overwhelming noise fades.
He certainly has no trouble hearing Jaskier or noticing how warm he feels.
This time, he's the one who catches Jaskier by the arm. A beat as he studies the bard turned succubus before him. Then he leans in and kisses him without ceremony. It's deep and unhurried and when he pulls away, a glint shines back in the yellow glow of his eyes. Like he's saying there's room to find out, perhaps, exactly how on the nose that answer is, but—not tonight.
(Funny, that it's been in the Horizon both times, that they've kissed. A part of him thinks, if he'll have it, he wants it out there. In the real world. Because that's the one thing that's never in doubt between them, isn't it? And he's so fucking tired of it being in constant question.) ]
no subject
So far, his favorite is pineapple. He's not even really sure what that is.
He meets Geralt's gaze, watching how the lights pulsing changes his white hair faintly blue, then purple, then pink. Hah. A Witcher with pink hair. He cannot even imagine --
Geralt moves, Jaskier's eyes already closing. If he is a master of any dance, it's this one.
The kiss is Geralt's this time, and being the force of it, it makes sense that it is shaped like him. Quiet and without prompting; like a very good Witcher, the kiss is there when one needs it most. It is skilled in as much as it appears effortless. Like killing, he supposes.
It's no surprise to Jaskier that drink and seduction makes such a heady, lyrical cocktail in his head. (Hah! A cocktail! He knows what that is now!)
And speaking of -- the poet will blame his lack of verbal response on those very same cocktails, because when they break it is only long enough for Jaskier to take in what color Geralt's eyes have turned now in the lights (a sort of vague, sunset orange) before he is pulling Geralt back down again, to kiss him with its opposing force: an energy that is hurried, and perhaps needy, but more likely greedy than anything. It is no accident that his tail slips around Geralt's leg with the grace of a snake, exploring a body as his hands are quite busy now.]
no subject
No. It's not the liquor. It's everything else: a need, a tension that's wrapped itself around him for weeks, months, one that he's not been able to shake. Not since he was pulled from that well. Not since they stumbled through that portal and landed in a dusty, dry city filled with too many people. Not since he rode back in a whirlwind from the desert and found his friend stuttering in and out of life. Not since Ciri asked him desperately if he's seen Yennefer, why she's not bothered to come for the girl.
So they kiss, and he pushes Jaskier back against one of the pillars or maybe it's a wall. It doesn't matter. He doesn't know if he wants or if he's just trying not to think about anything. There's this absurd party, Jaskier has fucking hooves for some reason, and none of it makes a lick of sense, and it's good. He's sick of trying to make sense of a chaotic world that he knows does not and never will. He wants a few moments where he doesn't have to care that some things, he will never have an answer to. If it takes losing himself in a heated kiss, he won't turn it down.
His palm splays flat against Jaskier's chest, rough hairs underneath scratching his skin. He grabs Jaskier's tail a second time, not to move it away but to run his thumbnail down its leathery surface. ]
no subject
It is very lucky the magic of the Horizon allows him to be so spry on hooves.
And it is trust in his friend that lets Jaskier hike his legs up with the grace of one who has certainly done this before, been pinned to doors and walls and tables (and one time a very large painting). But he knows the Witcher's strength; knows a hand will move from his chest to help hold him up, legs around his waist. Leaning down now with his added height to kiss him, Jaskier holds onto his shoulders with his pointed nails digging into the mantle of wolf fur there. The idea that Geralt may drop him never even crosses his mind.
There's plenty of chaos around them, but this, to him, makes perfect sense. Slots into his life in a way that's as easy as anything -- as easy as another day following the Witcher on his Path.
Jaskier pulls back only to coyly bite the tip of his nose. Solidly in Geralt's grip, he lifts a hand to tug one of those wolf ears.] Am I the only one with secrets?
no subject
He scoffs. ] Not much of a secret.
[ Not anymore, at least. Not that he was ever keeping it one in the first place. It's more—he'd not found a reason to make it known until now. Until here. And on that dock at Sam's house.
He kisses Jaskier's jaw, hitches him up further—and between the bard's whipping succubus tail and his own furred one, something bumps and tips and spills.
Ah. Shit. Geralt is tempted to ignore it, but whatever it is, it's sticky and seeping into this damn appendage stuck to his arse. He sets Jaskier down with a sigh. ] Fuck.
[ He reaches behind to pull the tail off, sidestepping the red and orange puddle dribbling off a table and onto the ground. He can already feel the rising heat between them begin to cool. Mm. Fuck indeed. ]
no subject
(All right, so there was some effort put into the strength that's needed to hold him up.)
A flush comes to his cheeks as he tilts his head up, to the side, offering more length of throat. It must be the atmosphere of the party, of the imagined bodies so close to them, that makes everything so heated.
There are a lot of bodies. They have never factored into Jaskier's diving into this. Into -- ohh, into a Witcher's mouth, and the taste of drink on his tongue. Jaskier's groin rubs against him, and it leads to the most wonderful shiver --
He blinks open his eyes. Fuck? Wait. Fuck what?]
Ah! [He jumps as Geralt's tail flicks and something splatters onto his leg. His hooves hit the ground, his leg shaking like a bothered goat's. Why is it so fucking sticky?] Geralt, what did you do?
[The bit of disgust is nothing compared to the gasp he makes when he steps around Geralt to see his beautiful white tail now has a huge wet pool of red soaking into it.] My handiwork! What have you done?
[There goes that spell. The hot air fizzles out like a coal dumped into a bucket of water. His beautiful tail! He'd created that himself, and -- well, apparently Geralt took too well to it if it was shaking it all about. With a curse, Jaskier summons a towel and steals it from his hands, soaking the drink out of the fur as well as he can. As fun as it'd been to rut against the Witcher and be kissed and, you know, generally adored, he had put quite a bit of work in making this tail. He'd wanted it to be real.] You just had to go about wagging it everywhere! Ugh, I think this is going to stain. And now you've ruined the mood.
no subject
He exhales sharply. His eyes roll to the colourful flashing ceiling. Where does he find the strength to exist around the bard. Why does this idiotic tail matter. It isn't even real. Nothing in here is, including Jaskier's nonsensical goat legs. (And thank fuck for that because as enjoyable as they were wrapped around his hips, he doesn't know what he'd do with his friend if he could spontaneously sprout hooves in reality.)
It's entirely possible he's especially irritated because he was getting into it and now he's. Mmh. He growls. ] Shut up. Give me that. Fuck.
[ He snatches the tail out of Jaskier's hand. Rarely does Geralt bother to extend the obvious powers of the Horizon, but now seems apt. He fluffs it until the stain seeps out of the white fur. Then he attaches it to his backside again with a stare that projects an exasperated, Satisfied?
At least where the tail is concerned. He's not addressing—what was disrupted. It's too late. He needs a drink. One that's not been spilled over the floor. ]
no subject
Oh. [He relaxes a little. Somehow, he'd expected Geralt to... rip it apart or something.] That was a tidy bit of magic, actually.
[Sometimes it's easy to forget what this place is. Or. Actually, that could be from the things Julie gave him. It certainly makes it a bit harder to think sometimes.]
Much better. [He is not satisfied, though, considering -- ah. Well. His boner's already gone, so this is sort of shit. He gives a big sigh with a bit of a flailing of his arms, his tail drooping down.] I suppose that moment's gone and died. [He moves behind Geralt to make sure the tail is properly fluffed. It's the least he could do, now that the proverbial spell was broken. Not that Geralt is any less attractive, but he certainly is back to being his grumpy, frowning self. (He already misses being pinned to that pillar. Ah! How close he'd been!)
A shame. Jaskier still reaches up and steals a kiss on his cheek, then grabs his hand.] Let's at least get another drink. I want to see you wag your tail again.
[He physically cannot stop himself from saying it.]
no subject
Geralt straightens up with another sigh. The reality is, the more obviously irritated he behaves, the less likely it is that he feels it in any real depth. Demeanor aside, he lets Jaskier take him by the wrist and pull him over to the bar. If only because that's precisely where he wants to go as it is.
Though the bard is certainly pushing his luck. Geralt narrows his eyes. In the end, he settles on a tried and true, ] Fuck off.
[ He slides onto a stool at the counter next to his. Friend. The moment is deader than a corpse burnt to ash, but what the hell. It isn't important. Where Jaskier is concerned, it's always been a matter of occasions coming and going. Like the seasons. That it happens to be gone for now does not mean it'll not return. Not that he's especially thinking about it returning. (Well.)
Anyhow. He'll take whatever drink comes his way. At the moment, he isn't particular. ]
no subject
He bumps Geralt's shoulder as he hops onto his stool, his tail curling around him as he summons them up two drinks. Something simpler this time; just old fashioned ales from home, along with a little wedge of orange for him to nibble on. One slides in front of Geralt, along with a bit of bread and cheese in case he wants something to pick at, too, and slices of roasted rabbit.]
Don't worry about it. It happens to all men at least once. [He teases. It was a hell of a moment, but he's still in good spirits (thank you, Julie) and he still loves Geralt's company, even if he liked Geralt's hand on his ass more.] Here. Something from home. For a bit of nostalgia tonight, among all of this that we've never had before.
no subject
[ Mildly frustrated, maybe, but that'll resolve itself soon enough and frankly, he's got. Hmm. Plans, for later, which have been on and off in the back of his mind since Julie all but invited him to her domain at Sam's gathering.
And it's true he and Jaskier settle back with ease. They always have. Even after...the dragon hunt. Not that he lets himself think about it much. It's over and done with. Now they're here, surrounded by pounding music and flashing lights, with a tray of bread and cheese and some ales. Surreal barely covers it. He can't say the overstimulation doesn't serve as a decent distraction, now that he's largely learned what to expect.
He needs it. Just one fucking night before he steps back into...everything. (If he stops to let it sink in for too long, the weariness burrows so far into his bones, he thinks he'll never shake it.)
He turns to face Jaskier, studying him in full for the first time tonight. He should've noticed it earlier, but the tail and goat legs had sidetracked him. He sees it now. The glassy pupils.
His lips curve on one side. Ah. ] Julie found you.
no subject
[Certainly not his performances in bed. Or, in this case, in the middle of dance floors against stone. My, did that mean Geralt truly did have a fun side? Among all these people, even! (Ignoring that they were not real.) Who would have ever thought?
Jaskier peels his orange slice, squeezing a bit of juice into his ale before popping the wedge into his mouth. Mm. Just as sweet as out of the Horizon.]
Hm? [He blinks at him.] Well, yes, she is the host of the party. What? Don't tell me you can smell her on me. We didn't even kiss! Sort of.
no subject
Sort of? His amusement only grows. He can smell Julie on Jaskier (because Julie has a distinctive sugary-sweet scent to her that's not hard to discern), but that's only to be expected given Julie has taken it upon herself to greet nearly everyone. That's not why he's brought it up. ]
She gave you more than a drink.
[ And she's the only one he knows of who's prone to doing that. It isn't important, really; Jaskier is still clearly himself, just...a bit more of himself. He's more imagining what the combination of Julie and Jaskier together is like. There are some similarities to be had. ]
no subject
Of course he can smell her on him. (He does wonder a bit what he smells like now. What a confusing mix of things it must be. Of women and men, perfume and drinks, and now a bit of cheese. Obviously, he still smells very good.)]
Mmm. Yes. That is true. [He returns to a smile, reaching over to pinch Geralt's cheek. He doesn't like it, that he returns so quickly to brooding, but what can one bard do? He can't change him. (And maybe. Sometimes. It's. Sort of endearing.)] Something called, er... what was it? Xernex? And a medicinal herb. Oh. One I could grow, actually! I might have to try a bit, you know, out there. For inspiration. She said it was very inspirational.
no subject
For inspiration. He snorts. That's one way to term it. ] You've more than enough inspiration most days, Jaskier.
[ He tops up Jaskier's drink nonetheless, as it starts to run dry. In fairness, he's still...having a decent go of it. This is him truthfully having a nice time, or else he'd not be here at all in the first place. But he is, and he's indulging in too much liquor, and he's still wearing the ears and tail. There are worse places to be.
And worse company to be in. ]
no subject
It isn't something he'll easy let go of.
Jaskier's eyes slide over, and he plucks up his drink as if he never noticed it was growing empty, drinking deep again. The combination of all of it is enthralling and heady. Enough so that he must be mistaking Geralt for saying something that sounds oddly soft.
He picks up a piece of cheese and begins mashing it in the corners, smiling to himself. When he places it in front of Geralt, it's vaguely in the shape of a wolf.]
With you, my friend, my well will never run dry.