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)
abraxaslogs2022-10-29 09:01 pm
princessvegas) wrote in abraxaslogs2022-10-29 09:01 pm
Entry tags:
- altaïr ibn-la'ahad; the magician,
- cassandra de rolo; strength,
- cirilla of cintra; the devil,
- eddie munson; the devil,
- geralt of rivia; the hanged man,
- jack skellington; the fool,
- jaskier; the sun,
- jesper fahey; the wheel of fortune,
- jo harvelle; strength,
- julie lawry; the wheel of fortune,
- nadine cross; the world,
- steve harrington; the lovers
[ open ] This is Halloween, everybody make a scene
Julie has always thrown a good party. It was true in Kansas, it was true in Vegas, and it's true in the Horizon. And last year's party had been a smashing success by Julie's standards.
At that time.
See, the thing is, back then, Julie didn't understand exactly what she was capable of doing with the Horizon's powers. She had, without meaning to, limited herself to things that already made sense in the world she had previously known. But that's not the world she lives in anymore, and after a year of learning, she's ready to actually throw a Horizon-worthy party.
I | WAIT
For the vast majority of the Summoned, this will be the first time they've ever seen the pink neon that illuminates the edges of Julie's club go dark. The pink carpet and pink velvet ropes are gone; the big double doors are closed and locked. Those with keen eyes might notice that the door handles, normally in the shape of rising clouds of butterflies, are now swarms of bats. There is a small sign on a stand at the door.
All around the building, there's the loud, ominous sound of a grandfather clock's swinging pendulum, ticking toward an unknown time (well, it is known, as Julie sent out invitations). The wood of the doors bears long, ragged scratches, as if claws have been dragged down them. Thick fog gradually surrounds the building -- while not thick enough to obscure vision, it is nonetheless ominous and haunting.
The clock chimes nine o'clock; the sound is deafening. There is a long, pregnant pause, and just when it seems like nothing is going to happen, there is a sudden screech from above. An enormous, bulbous spider crawls atop the roof as if from the back, its body and legs so large and long that they span the building's width. It gives another great shriek as it leers down from the roof, fangs dripping, but it doesn't reach down from its perch. It remains above the crowd, menacingly.
At the same time, the doors burst open in an almost explosive manner, and the pounding music begins to pour out from within. More fog floats out of the foyer, carrying obscured green and orange light. The party has started.
II | CREEP
Walking through the front door, there are many details to be noticed, enough that it's easy to overlook most of them. The mist is a heavy blanket across the ground, thinning out for visibility only around waist-height. Where last year the theme was set in a barren forest, this year appears to be set in a massive, abandoned Victorian mansion. While the club maintains its normal shape from the outside, the inside is transformed to mimic long, winding hallways and spiraling staircases that seem to lead nowhere. The roof is high, in cathedral arches, and the fireplaces are dark. The walls and mantles bear various pieces of decoration: eerie black-and-white portraits in filthy frames, cracked vases full of dead flowers, jagged and broken sconces. Everything is covered in a vast, dusty coat of cobwebs, and the entire main hall must be traversed to reach the music that streams through the air.
Ignore the movements in the corner of your eyes. And be careful not to graze the walls -- lest you discover that the black pattern on the dark wallpaper is less of a pattern and more of an infestation.
Along the way, one might be inclined to open one of the many doors that line the halls and see what's inside. There are any number of strange scenes to find -- those familiar enough may recognize the haunting figures as Julie's clubgoers in costume. Interacting may have... unintended consequences.
Make it through the maze of haunted rooms and revolving doors, and you'll be rewarded by finding the ballroom.
III | PARTY
True to Julie form, the ballroom is fully decked out for only the wildest of parties. Spiderwebs stretch across the vaulted ceilings and between pillars, with lights hanging from their gossamer threads. Candles help illuminate by floating near the ceiling and around tables.
The bar, swapped for heavy Gothic design, is manned by Steven, as always. Despite being dressed as a white-eyed demon, he is as helpful as ever, and happy to make you whatever drink your heart desires. Two long tables flank the bar -- one boasts a huge variety of spooky snacks and bowls of candies, amongst other, more classic party dishes. The other holds vast quantities of... other goodies, should one be tempted to participate: bowls of pre-rolled joints and various pills, silver platters with small mountains of cocaine atop them, and even tiny canisters of whippits, for those with low tolerance. Be careful not to confuse the regular candies with their cannabis-infused counterparts.
The dance floor is large and lit in purple, orange and green. The music is loud enough to dance to, but not so loud that conversation is impossible. The resident partiers that weren't used to play roles in the scary scenes congregate here, in a wide assortment of random sexy costumes.
Hopefully, you've arrived in time to see Julie's grand entrance.
At that time.
See, the thing is, back then, Julie didn't understand exactly what she was capable of doing with the Horizon's powers. She had, without meaning to, limited herself to things that already made sense in the world she had previously known. But that's not the world she lives in anymore, and after a year of learning, she's ready to actually throw a Horizon-worthy party.
I | WAIT
For the vast majority of the Summoned, this will be the first time they've ever seen the pink neon that illuminates the edges of Julie's club go dark. The pink carpet and pink velvet ropes are gone; the big double doors are closed and locked. Those with keen eyes might notice that the door handles, normally in the shape of rising clouds of butterflies, are now swarms of bats. There is a small sign on a stand at the door.
All around the building, there's the loud, ominous sound of a grandfather clock's swinging pendulum, ticking toward an unknown time (well, it is known, as Julie sent out invitations). The wood of the doors bears long, ragged scratches, as if claws have been dragged down them. Thick fog gradually surrounds the building -- while not thick enough to obscure vision, it is nonetheless ominous and haunting.
The clock chimes nine o'clock; the sound is deafening. There is a long, pregnant pause, and just when it seems like nothing is going to happen, there is a sudden screech from above. An enormous, bulbous spider crawls atop the roof as if from the back, its body and legs so large and long that they span the building's width. It gives another great shriek as it leers down from the roof, fangs dripping, but it doesn't reach down from its perch. It remains above the crowd, menacingly.
At the same time, the doors burst open in an almost explosive manner, and the pounding music begins to pour out from within. More fog floats out of the foyer, carrying obscured green and orange light. The party has started.
II | CREEP
Walking through the front door, there are many details to be noticed, enough that it's easy to overlook most of them. The mist is a heavy blanket across the ground, thinning out for visibility only around waist-height. Where last year the theme was set in a barren forest, this year appears to be set in a massive, abandoned Victorian mansion. While the club maintains its normal shape from the outside, the inside is transformed to mimic long, winding hallways and spiraling staircases that seem to lead nowhere. The roof is high, in cathedral arches, and the fireplaces are dark. The walls and mantles bear various pieces of decoration: eerie black-and-white portraits in filthy frames, cracked vases full of dead flowers, jagged and broken sconces. Everything is covered in a vast, dusty coat of cobwebs, and the entire main hall must be traversed to reach the music that streams through the air.
Ignore the movements in the corner of your eyes. And be careful not to graze the walls -- lest you discover that the black pattern on the dark wallpaper is less of a pattern and more of an infestation.
Along the way, one might be inclined to open one of the many doors that line the halls and see what's inside. There are any number of strange scenes to find -- those familiar enough may recognize the haunting figures as Julie's clubgoers in costume. Interacting may have... unintended consequences.
Make it through the maze of haunted rooms and revolving doors, and you'll be rewarded by finding the ballroom.
III | PARTY
True to Julie form, the ballroom is fully decked out for only the wildest of parties. Spiderwebs stretch across the vaulted ceilings and between pillars, with lights hanging from their gossamer threads. Candles help illuminate by floating near the ceiling and around tables.
The bar, swapped for heavy Gothic design, is manned by Steven, as always. Despite being dressed as a white-eyed demon, he is as helpful as ever, and happy to make you whatever drink your heart desires. Two long tables flank the bar -- one boasts a huge variety of spooky snacks and bowls of candies, amongst other, more classic party dishes. The other holds vast quantities of... other goodies, should one be tempted to participate: bowls of pre-rolled joints and various pills, silver platters with small mountains of cocaine atop them, and even tiny canisters of whippits, for those with low tolerance. Be careful not to confuse the regular candies with their cannabis-infused counterparts.
The dance floor is large and lit in purple, orange and green. The music is loud enough to dance to, but not so loud that conversation is impossible. The resident partiers that weren't used to play roles in the scary scenes congregate here, in a wide assortment of random sexy costumes.
Hopefully, you've arrived in time to see Julie's grand entrance.
ɪɪɪ. ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɴᴏ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴘʟᴀʏ
A shot or two down, whatever she gets or is given, Jo decides to check out the tables. The first of which has a bite-sized rainbow Twizzlers pack taken off of it, and the other — "Seriously?"
Jo will circulate through the night, looking for familiar faces to say hello to, eating some food, very often carrying a drink, and doing her best to keep her chin up. She might take a little convincing to dance if you're the first person to ask, but once she's warmed up, she won't mind trading a partner or two while she's already out there, before coming back off the floor for stints.
no subject
Still, he has to wonder if Jo has any idea how appropriate the outfit she suggested is for him.
He fits in, but that doesn't make him excellent at socializing. He keeps to himself for a while, exploring the decorations and such before eventually bumping into Jo at one of the snack tables.
"Good evening." He nods, his face uncovered. The hood was a comfortable choice, but not the mask. "Enjoying yourself?"
ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀꜱ ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ
Jo gives the Death knock-off costume a once over, fighting the irony (but not her smile at that irony) about the fact Altiar's being even more fully head-to-toe covered than normal almost; just shapelessly under the black billow of cloth. Her being down to more skin than the slip of this skin-tight green dress and its thinnest, green-veined, matching wings. There's a vague wonder if he's still strapped under there, too. She wouldn't be surprised.
"I suppose it's not too bad?" Jo shrugged her bare shoulders, and the wings behind her fluttered far too naturally with the shift of those shoulder muscles. Even for her, that's a little weird. But she decided to try something new outside of just putting on a Halloween costume for the first time since she wasn't in elementary school. "What about you? How's this whole first Halloween party thing look to you?"
What did it look like to anyone who didn't know what it was
and didn't have her chip in that view?
no subject
(Her costume strikes him as unwise in that sense and nearly indecent by the standards of his homeland, but Altaïr is not especially concerned with others' sense of decency. It's the lack of places to hide a weapon that would concern him more if he thought they were in real danger.)
"It has been a learning experience. The decorations are impressive." Admittedly, they are also easier to achieve in the Horizon, but even with the enhanced creative capabilities available to them here, he doubts he would have come up with as impressive a display if it were up to him.
"The costumes, though." He frowns, working it out in his head. He is not a stupid man, but he must be missing some part of the logic. "I understood they should conceal one's identity. But you are obviously yourself."
no subject
She raised a hand to gesture at the room around them. She was hardly the only person scantily clad around these parts, and she'd put Nadine through hell getting to this one. She'd had erstwhile opinions for almost every suggestion for a god awful long time first. She was lucky Nadine put up with her through that.
"Sometimes it's also just about dressing up as something that isn't you." Jo looked down at her tiny green dress, unable to ignore the wings that still bobbed gently at the backs of her shoulders. "This one is from a kid's movie back home."
no subject
He tilts his head, looking at her quizzically. "What is a movie?"
no subject
"Pop in at the Roadhouse sometime later, and I'll show you. For now," This with a grin. "Suffice it to say; it's a visual version of a story that moves but is a lot more complicated than a picture or a painting. This one's all peaceful and sweet, what with it being for kids."
no subject
"I can see how that would be enjoyable. And useful." If he could view something from the past or see a master craftsman at work, rather than following handwritten recollections...definitely not what she's getting at, though. "Do the children of your land all enjoy sweet stories? I recall enjoying tales of adventure and bloodshed when I was young."
Says Altaïr, all of twenty-six years old.
no subject
no subject
He's heard enough to imagine something of a childhood adjacent to such a place. It's easier now that he's seen monsters and other inhuman creatures here — he wouldn't have been able to fully move past his skepticism otherwise.
"Did your parents come of age hearing those stories as well, or did they live a 'normal' life?" He's curious how far back the hunting goes, or doesn't; from how Jo has described it, hunters are not like Assassins, but there are certain points of commonality that have given him pause.
no subject
Even Dean had some of that 'apple pie normal life' for part of his childhood that Jo, Sam, and even their mother never did. It's a rarer breed of people that would consider raising children in a world where monsters were always real, and safety was something fought for, not something that could be taken for granted even in one's own house.
"No one else was raised around, or lived around, the endless stream of hunters that ended up in the bar through." That was something that belonged to the Harvelle's, to her Dad and then families utterly loyalty to the life and the lighthouse the bar became in that ocean of black, meeting a need nothing else had before or after yet, at least not that Dean seemed to know of.
no subject
"I see why your attire makes you someone other than who you truly are." He nods at the outfit. "Such a childhood doesn't sound 'peaceful and sweet'."
Even if it had been all she knew. Even if she and her family had had some happiness while they could.