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
[Nadine reaches up to touch one gently, still a little unsure of them. She flushes a little, the attention to her horns bringing the color to her cheeks more than standing here in her underthings in front of a man she's just met. She may doubt her morals, she may doubt her judgement and common sense and life choices, but she doesn't doubt her appeal to the so-called rougher sex.
Not that there's anything rough about Jaskier, quite the opposite. She bets he writes beautiful poetry. Would it be weird to ask to hear some? Is that the sort of thing you don't do on a one night stand? She isn't sure about all the rules here. Maybe she just shouldn't worry about that.]
I just figured your world probably doesn't have zip fasteners.
[The flush fades quickly as he moves behind her. She waits until she feels the clasp release before she turns to face him, letting her bra slide off her shoulders and away from her modest breasts. She smiles softly, just looking at his face for a moment before reaching up to hold it in her hands. He really does have kind eyes. They're a pretty color, too. And he has a soft, generous mouth... a clear bolt of desire shoots through her and she feels her pulse skip and her breath quicken.]
Come here.
[Spoken just before she leans up to kiss him, properly on the lips.]
no subject
Considering the unfamiliar word, I'd dare say you're right.
[He gives her a little wiggle of his brows, hands finding that lovely dip in her waist again, moving up to let his thumbs settle just under her breasts.
Mm. He loves a handsy woman.]
I'm coming. [He manages before their lips press together, and he slips his arms around her, holding her close. She's short enough, he thinks, that even his arms could manage to pick her up the short distance to the bed. Actually. It's the Horizon, and he's a succubus. Of course he could. Besides, he would hate for one of his hooves to step on her feet. With the loss of the space between their bodies, it's clear that his silken loincloths are no longer hiding the effect her body has. Or, more effectively, her kiss.
Her should ask. To be polite. As he breaks the kiss to slide his lips along her cheek, he mumbles against her skin:] Shall we retire to bed?
no subject
Her hands slide into his hair as she stands on tiptoe, noting the swell of him against her. That's another little thrill. There's a power in arousal, in the inspiring of it. That's one thing Nadine's minefield of a sexual past has taught her.]
I think I'd like that very much, Jaskier.
[Just the sensation of his hands on her sides, his mouth on her cheek...the feelings they're sending spiraling through her are knee-weakening enough. What heights of tactile pleasure were waiting in the bed?]
no subject
[The finest answer one can give, really, not only a yes, but a resounding one. He gives her another kiss because she tastes that good -- light, both fruit and floral, like the drinks he's been consuming all night -- lifting her with grip on the underside of her thighs. Whether its his own strength or the Horizon's magic, he doesn't drop nor lose his grim as he makes his steps backwards until the back of his thighs hit the bed.
And then he falls back on top of it, allowing her weight to fall right on top. He barely misses a moment, running a hand down her back, the other in her hair as he catches another kiss.
Mm. Julie did well. Big bed, immeasurably soft. Plenty of room and quiet.] I don't suppose you have a preference in position?
[It's only fair to ask.] I promise it will feel wonderful whichever way.
no subject
She lifts herself up with her arms, stretched out over him, enjoying the soft feel of his furred legs against her own. It's surprisingly pleasant. And in truth she has no preference, really. She's enjoyed it different ways...but she decides she likes this, having him under her. It makes her feel less like she's being taken, as though this is something happening to her.
That's one thing all of her encounters have in common. Even with Randall, she felt less like an active participant or equal. Sex, primarily, had so often felt like something being done to her.]
This works just fine, actually. Assuming you don't have any complaints?
no subject
He can't imagine it's her first time to be carried to bed. Who doesn't love that sort of effort?]
Complaints? My lady, you must be mad to think I'd complain about this angle. [Honestly. The weight of her breasts, the expanse of stomach, the shadows her clavicles create when she leans forward. He can feel the way her skin shifts his fur, as real a part of him as his skin.] You are more than welcome to hold me down and fuck me as you wish. [Simply saying the word teases the heat between his legs. Between hers. Oh, he can imagine the ride. The way the lights would catch on her pretty horns as she moved. The swing of her hair. Would it be too much to encourage her to hold him by his horns? (He's only curious how it feels.)] Or simply admire the sight of me trapped beneath your silken thighs, [And his hands run up them, teasing the rings on his fingers glittering with gems, the sharpened points of his nails gentle on her skin,] if it so pleases you.
[He's not actually putting it on thick. That's just what happens when you fuck medieval poets.]
no subject
[Nadine's voice is soft and warm, the drugs removing any sharpness that might have normally come with her response. She leans down, pressing her forehead against his as she shifts to straddle him properly. As appealing as the idea is, to be the one in the position of power, the whole point of this is for something different.
Besides. There are other ways to have power in bed that don't hold shades of her own uncomfortable past.]
No one's holding anyone down. Not tonight.
[Now settled on her knees, Nadine's hands can get to work. She wants to explore him, to take her time and just enjoy the symphony of sensations that touch brings right now. Her palms and fingers glide over his shoulders, down his chest, slowly mapping their way over his nearly-naked form.]
I just want to enjoy you.
no subject
Ah. The benefit of being nearly nude in his costume already.]
Mmm. As you wish.
[Her palms press over the curls of pastel paint, but it doesn't smudge or crack -- more like tattoos, as he understands them, than paint at all. Unable to help himself, wanting so badly to touch her as well, he moves back to her hair (look, he's a hair man) but even higher still, to her horns. Like Himeka's scale, they hold a sort of pearlescent quality. Colors move across them, shifting in the flickering lights, which are influenced by his love of sex in candlelight.
She is wonderfully beautiful. It's hard to imagine she really has only been had by one man. The awe crosses his face, his eyes wide and fascinated, following the shape of them. Of course he has his own, but these are... they feel different to him.]
And? Are you enjoying me so far? [He shifts underneath her, allowing her to feel exactly how much he's enjoying her.] Not that I'm fishing for compliments.
[All right. Maybe a bit.]
no subject
[The teasing note is evident in Nadine's voice, and she smiles as she leans her head down closer to his. It's strange, the attention paid to her horns. Not that Randall had ignored them, but it had been a very different sort of attention. Not near as gentle.
They're smooth, the feel of them like their color, similar to that of a pearl's.]
But yes, I'm enjoying you very much. All of you.
[She presses her own hips down, meeting him in encouragement, reveling in the heat between them and the firm press of his arousal against her. The few scraps of fabric separating them hardly offer much of a barrier.
All of it's intoxicating. Even the smell of him, masculine and heady, is making her head spin.]
I want to feel all of you, Jaskier.
no subject
[She doesn't seem to mind. And, even better, she indulges him. He takes it with a soft laugh, kissing her when she's low enough for him to steal another taste. Mm. Still fruity, but now it's even headier on his tongue. Between the heat of where their bodies meet, the palms of her hand on his chest, and the heat of their mouths -- ah. He may as well melt at this rate.]
Likewise. [He says, a low growl in his throat as she shifts and it hits him in just the right way.
Gods. Being to the point is very sexy, indeed. ]
And are you wet enough for that, my dear? [His hand slides up her thigh, delving between the very little room between them to cup over her. But he pauses there without pushing any further, as much as he'd love to. It's only polite to ask.] May I?
no subject
Nadine lifts her hips to give him better access, the saddle of her undergarments giving clear evidence to just how aroused she is. And oh god, she wants him to touch her, wants his fingers on her most sensitive and aching flesh. Again there's a pulsing sensation through her loins and she lets out a soft little moan.
But that boldness still has her, and she tilts her head to bring her mouth very close to his ear. Her own voice is low and heavy with want.]
As wet as a morning after the snowmelt.
[It's strange, how much his asking delights her. The fact that she's nearly naked and on top of him is, in her mind, permission enough. But still he asked.
No one's ever asked before.]
And you may.
for a man who fucks I sure don't get to have any sex icons
And here I thought I was the only poet between us.
[Though happily it is not only a turn of phrase, because his hand meets plenty of wet trapped on her undergarments. (They're very nice, by the way. They could simply will them away -- the Horizon is for all sort of experiments, after all -- but Jaskier can't help but want to appreciate them for a little longer.)
Besides. They're not that in the way.
With her permission, two fingers slip beneath the cloth, following the wet to her core. Not the clit, not yet -- he is a gentleman, of course -- but he strokes around it, gentle and teasing, while his head tips up to kiss her.]
no subject
Something to be examined later.]
I can be very poetic, when I want.
[God knows she's read enough of the romantic era offerings in her teen and college years. But it's hard to think about that, when Jaskier's fingers breech the feeble last defense of her underthings. It hasn't really been that long since she was touched, a couple of weeks maybe, but it doesn't matter. Something had awoken in her, that first night in the desert, a craving for physical pleasure she'd never known she had the capacity for.
And Jaskier is good. She doesn't know if it's the drugs or just the novelty, but it already feels like he's working her body with a skilled knowledge. She gasps against his mouth and twitches against his exploratory fingers, wanting more with a fierceness that almost frightens her.]
no subject
The sounds. Oh, yes. The sounds. Not to be a musician about it all, but... it's still his favorite sort of music.
His lips move to her shoulder, kissing and nipping lightly with his teeth as a third finger joins the other two, coaxing a little more wetness out of her. It must be the herbs that makes the sensation so -- so much. Even just his fingers, buzzing with heat, and the heat is traveling up his arms. The weight of her shifts against him just right, and it's not only her making a noise.]
no subject
She clutches at him, one hand gripping one of his curved horns, the other burying itself in his hair.]
You're wonderful.
[The words tumble out amid eager pants and gasps. Her hips jerk against his hand, nerves all along her thighs and loins and abdomen singing with sensation. God but she wants him. She's wanted so few men in her life but all that matters here and now is Jaskier, beneath her and bringing her to higher ledges of arousal.]
no subject
And it's working. The heat of her closes around him as he strokes with a hint more rhythm, pushing deeper inside. Heat, mixing with the scent of sex already heavy in the air -- it all swirls about in his head. He's hard, more than wanting, and the bite of his nails into her hip with his other hand is not at all conscious. He's merely holding out, now.
His heart sings out to those words. You're wonderful.] Shall I keep going? [A glint on his eye as he draws his fingers out, one by one.] I can give you more than a few fingers.
no subject
You know what I want.
[The rich huskiness of her voice and the firmness near-demand of the words surprises her. Some dim part of her is aware she's rarely like this in bed, so used to either approaching it as a tedious chore or being a passive partner. It's thrilling to think she has control, and not over some sniveling pawn that messed his pants the second he touched her breast.
She honestly isn't sure if it's the drugs or Jaskier himself that's bringing it out, but she doesn't care. She wants him and her body needs him and she thinks that in this moment he might do almost anything she asked. She kisses him again, fiercely, and reaches down with the hand not wrapped around his horn to hook in the waistband of her panties to draw them down and off.]
no subject
And certainly it feels like one.
Doesn't he? He knows well, all of this, but particularly there is something that flows in his veins now which grants him some extra knowledge of her. Understanding of that tone in her voice, the darkness in it; what it means that the grip on his horn changes. It doesn't feel like the first time with her, or the first time here; it's the confidence found with a lover touched so many times before, eager to see her completion again.]
As my lady so eagerly desires.
[He purrs the words, dragging his palms over the naked, smooth skin of her thighs. He only watches her undressing, fascination open in his eyes and in his parted, swollen lips. Too quickly the sight vanishes as she leans down, yet he meets this kiss eagerly. It's all tongue and heat that sinks down into his very bones.
Wonderful he still has the experience now, to use one hand to guide himself to her, the other to take her hip, pulling it down in encouragement. Meeting together with the slightest angle, a sharp intake of his breath. Jaskier's hips rise to meet hers as he sinks inside, until the heat is enveloping and he's taking over the next kiss with a bruising intensity.]
no subject
Nadine is not a stranger to the act. In those brief months when she and Flagg could physically be together, they had been. As often as time and her own energy allowed. This is not a new experience...and yet somehow it is. The broad strokes are all the same but the details...The touch of Jaskier's skin, the scent of him, the barely explored geography of his body...even the shape of his lips against her own and the feel of him inside of her.
All of it somehow exciting and new.
She moans aloud into his mouth, returning the kiss just as brutally. She moves on top of him, hands coming to rest against his chest to steady herself. The fur of his legs brushes against her own thighs in a surprisingly enjoyable fashion, only adding to the overall pleasure of the encounter. Her skin feels alive everywhere there bodies meet, and in between those places it's like a network of sparks traveling under her skin, pulsing and flaring with each stroke and press of Jaskier's cock.]
no subject
The moans they mix together. The wet of a kiss.
The coiling heat in his belly that tightens and tightens, until he can barely say her name through it. (He does love saying names, though. The way they are all different. To remind his love who they're with. And simply for the beauty of it, when a body can barely catch a breath, to still want to say so simple a thing.)
His hands move across her with each stroke -- a breast, or up her arm, or moving back to hold her hips. It builds, the air tightening in the room. (Horizon magic? Perhaps.) There is no louder sound than the heartbeat in his ears, even if the music of the club is still so obviously thumping around them, outside them. Out there. And when he comes, it's with a shudder and a moan, his nails biting her the bare skin of her hips.
There's little bursts in his eyes, like stars. Fitting. Bright white, like the rest of her. Bright as stars.]