abraxaslogs | [ open ] This is Halloween, everybody make a scene

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[ 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.

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[ He smiles in return. He's not minded much, the small creatures that would wander his way. He's sent Rinwell's—his—owl back home, but there may have been one point where the owl and the gold dragon made a cautious attempt at greeting each other. ]

Oh, he tried. [ Jaskier might've stuck matching ribbons on several parts of him if he'd allowed it. He'd seen the gleam in his friend's eyes, but Geralt will only let himself be distracted by one kiss per bard. ] Should've realized the two of you were conspiring against me.

[ Not that he's bothered. It's been an exceedingly shit week; he's perfectly all right with the most taxing occurrence this evening being a ribbon attached to him. It glitters under the lights where his tail somewhat...twitches on its own.

He closes what little distance remains between them. His thumb trails down to where the spiders once crawled over her collarbone. ]

How do the spider queen's chambers look? And are wolves invited?

No conspiracy. [ She holds a hand up innocently. ] I just made one offhand suggestion, 'cause he was already hellbent on torturin' you. Specifically said he would trick you. And also that you can't reach behind your head 'cause your arms are too big. [ Look, she told Jaskier she'd make Geralt forget. She didn't say she wouldn't sell him out first.

She sets her drink on the counter and then turns in her seat, drapes her arms over his shoulders and grazes her nails over the back of his neck. Her eyelids lower a bit as she exhales. ] Wolves are welcome, but they might not make it back out.

[ The longer she focuses on him, the more the club fades back to its normal state, which is useful because she is not sure either of them are sober enough to maintain balance on a table again. One of her hands slides down his arm to catch his fingers and she stands up to pull him behind her toward the stairs. ]

[ That Jaskier was determined to make him suffer does not surprise him. There is, however, a flash of look that's almost comically affronted when he's told Jaskier claimed his arms are—they're what? (Why can he hear Jaskier saying this in his head? Or, he knows why, but he rather wishes he did not.)

The matter is put aside when Julie takes his hand. His drink is emptied first before he puts it aside. He hums. ] Who says I'll want to leave?

[ He follows her up the stairs. Julie's is the first domain he's been in since the entire...incident. (Since he died, since the doors on that buried cellar blew wide open.) He hasn't really returned to his place, other than to revive the wolf which now has a new scar mostly hidden underneath its belly. It's just. A lot of memories he isn't interested in revisiting so soon. But her club has grown to be an unexpected source of refuge, and despite the disturbance that swept through it during that week he feels more at ease here than he does within his mountain keep.

The liquor helps.

He steps through the doorway behind her. ] I've even brought an offering.

[ That expression just earns him a laugh. It was a ridiculous sentiment to begin with, but that it actually garners a reaction out of him is particularly funny.

She understands why some people -- most people -- are so hesitant to return to the Horizon. It makes sense. But her experience was so separated from the Horizon itself; it would be like never going back to your favorite restaurant because you got in a car wreck on the way there. Her control over all the aspects of her domain remains absolute, and the lingering memory of seeing herself bloated and sick in mirrors was spawned in the waking world. Besides, she begins to feel sick and irritable and depressed when she stays away from her domain.

But it makes her happy to be able to provide respite to others. That's always been a goal. ]

Hope you won't. You're stuck in my web now. [ She smirks over her shoulder as they ascend the stairs. Even as she walks, bits and pieces of her costume begin to shift and alter themselves. By the time they reach the top of the steps, the tricky catsuit is gone (she remembers last year), leaving only an impressive amount of web-themed lace. And while she didn't go so far as to change much of the core decor, there are a healthy amount of cutesier webs and skulls and snakes scattered around. Just enough to express "Halloween" in a place that she wasn't opening to the public.

With an intrigued little coo, she walks to the bedroom. The bedding matches the theme. She turns and takes his other hand too. ] Ooh. Gimme.

[ The shimmer of Horizon magic is familiar, her outfit shifting as they walk. For his part Geralt is, aside from the fur around the top of his boots, dressed not altogether different beneath the attachments.

As he passes by, he prods curiously at one of the smooth, shiny skulls sat next to a snake. Glances up where the hole was once in her ceiling as she fell through.

There's no sign anything ever occurred. All has been put right again.

He pauses at the foot of the bed. When he opens his hand, a thin gold chain drops down, dangling from his fingers: the same one she sent him the winter prior. He's had few chances to bring it back as requested—one crisis after another kept interfering—but now finally seems an appropriate time. ]

[ She kneels on the bed in front of him, takes the chain with a pleased purr. Rather than fussing with tiny lobster claw fasteners, she manifests it onto herself; the chain sits under the returned wyvern tooth, then disappears down the front of her robe as she reaches up, wrapping her arms back around his neck. ]

Good boy. [ One hand scratches gently at his scalp near the wolf ear. Her neck cranes up toward him. ] I'll leave out the extra step next time. Just didn't think it would take almost a year.

[ There were actually times she considered sending Duke to fetch it, but then she would always decide that she wanted to see how long it would actually take for him to bring it back on his own. ]

[ He steps forward, eyes roaming over the dip of the chain. It glitters from behind the black lace. He hooks a finger through the delicate gold, letting her pull him close. Her hands leave a faint tingle that runs down the back of his neck, through his spine.

His lips twitch. He's close enough that it seems he might kiss her, but he doesn't just yet. ]

I'll make it worth the wait.

[ He trails his hand down, slowing when he reaches the ribbon holding her robe together. He gives the silk a slow tug, inching it free from its knot—the kind that says she is free to stop him if she wants him elsewhere. ]

[ She doesn't make any move to stop him, only moving her arms to let the robe fall off her shoulders. The little crystal dangles between her breasts, and has been given tiny gold legs to turn it from a simple stone into a spider. ]

You better.

[ Her hands settle on his sides, over his ribs, and she tilts up to close the gap herself. As she kisses him, she shifts from her knees to lean back, taking him with her. ]

[ Hm. Endearing touch. Geralt traces his fingers over the crystal turned spider; there's a moment where he makes its gold legs wriggle, twitching.

Then he follows her onto the bed. Pushes the thin lacy robe off her shoulders. His tail bounces a little behind him as he straddles her. Possibly it's the alcohol helping, but he's tolerant enough that he's yet to pull any of the pieces off.

He leans down to kiss her again, moves down towards her breast. The chain is cool where it brushes against his lips, her skin heating up. He glides his hand up her thigh, beneath more lace and silk. ]

Edited 2022-11-16 05:17 (UTC)

[ The legs skitter against her skin, tickling, and she can't suppress a giggle as it sends a shiver up her spine. He moves and she lets her hands slide, up to the back of his neck, into his hair. Her back arches slightly, following his lips.

With a sigh, she hooks one leg over his hip, rocks into his hand. Every time his skin touches hers, it feels like heat actually permeates, sinks down into her flesh to her bones. Between the intoxication and the arousal and the fact that everything here is exceptionally comfortable by design, she feels like she's floating, and it's the best she's felt since she was blowing up scorpions in the desert sun.

God, Halloween is such a great holiday, she thinks as she looks up at the ceiling. She's too high to remember the hole she fixed.

When she glances back down at him, she catches his ears stirring. ]

[ He's letting the alcohol spin his head, just a little, in the way it almost never does out there. His knees sink into the thick mattress. She tangles her fingers up in his hair, and he continues to kiss a path over her ribs, down to the hollow of her hip.

And while he enjoyed the year before plenty, fucking on a table leaves much less room to maneuver. The bed's better. It lets him slide between her legs with ease. He presses his lips to the inside of her thigh, lace swept to the side to make room—fabric bunched in his hand. The air thickens, a warmth flowing through him.

His head lifts after a moment. He said he'd make it worth the wait, and he means to. ]

Tell me. What you want. And it's yours.

[ If asked, she'd say the only thing tethering her to the ground right now is his touch. All of her senses are so focused only on him, and her skin turns pink in the trail of his kisses, all flushed and warm. As he moves, she lets her limbs go pliant and slip around him; she ends up with one hand still gently knit through his hair, the fur of his ear soft against her palm.

Breathing heavily, her back arches, but then he pauses and in the split second before she processes his words, she whines without meaning to. Propping herself up on her elbow, she cocks her head and looks at him, eyes almost as dark as they'd been when she was blacking them out fully for her costume. Her head swims. ]

Everything. [ Her fingers curl tighter against his scalp. Her thigh twitches. ] I've told you before, I want everything.

[ There's a quiet laugh. She moves so easily under his hands; he pushes her back down in response to that, because everything gives him plenty of room to decide what he wants first.

And what he wants first is to taste her. Make her pull harder on his hair in that way that tells him she's not thinking about anything at all except more.

His hand runs up the length of her thigh. He breathes gently over her, teasing with his fingers until he can feel the heat radiating from her. It sends an electric jolt up his spine. He delves in with his tongue, ducking deep between her legs. ]

[ Every nerve in her body lights up when he pushes her back, her stomach tight as she lets him. Her breath catches and her hips chase his touch as she digs one heel harder into the bed; already her joints are beginning to ache in the sweet way they always do when she makes space for his width between her legs.

The air leaves her lungs on a groan, her neck stretched back and her eyes falling closed as the warmth of his mouth envelops her. Her entire body trembles when she inhales again, and as he usually does, he makes her feel like there's a fist wrapped around her ribcage, squeezing her lungs tightly.

With her free hand, she gropes until she finds his. Her gaze is glassy and heavy when she turns it down on him, half-hidden behind the sped up heaving of her chest. ]

[ She breathes out with a sound that thrums through his blood. His hand rests on her stomach, fingers curled and digging in just a little; the other she holds tightly.

It's not the most comfortable position he's found himself in, but he can make it work. His back arches. Once he is in it, he's in, and he doesn't pause or slow for anything. His tongue curls against her, until her heart beats so fast he thinks it might burst. It thunders heavy in his ears—or perhaps that's his own.

There's a moment where his eyes flick to meet hers—still golden but somehow brighter, almost glowing under the dim lights of her chambers. ]

[ Geralt will have to forgive her for not giving a single fuck about his comfort at the moment, although in fairness to her, he's the one responsible for his own positioning right now. The only thing she can currently focus on is the building pressure inside herself, spreading like wildfire from her core out into the rest of her. Her nails bite into the back of his hand as she pants and sighs.

At a certain point, her fingers begin to claw at his hair, knotting at the roots until the closer ear gets in her way, folds up under her palm. She's not actually entirely sure whether the connection he has with them works both ways -- they move with his expressions but she can't tell whether he gets feedback from them. She hopes not, because she grabs it roughly and yanks it away, discarding it to the side before she slips her fingers back into his hair, pushes it back.

The darkness of the room and his angle make his eyes look like honey, all the sharpness of the yellow canceled out and turned warm. Closing her own eyes, she whimpers and rolls her hips against his mouth. She's teetering on an edge, stringing out the pleasure as much as she can. ]

[ The ears are not, fortunately, any real part of him; Geralt doesn't go as far as Jaskier for his costumes. It slides out with ease, limp as a flattened rat where it lands on the floor. He pays little mind to the fact that he's now one ear down. The other begins to slip, lopsided.

She's slick against him, and he makes a wanting noise alongside her. His fingers dig into her thigh, small crescent imprints left behind. There's so much heat, he's burning up, the lightest flush creeping up his neck in a way it almost never does. His hair falls loose under her hands—slips free of the leather cord wrapped around it.

He lets her grip him as tight as she wants, lifting a little higher on his knees to get just the right angle for her. ]

[ Just that small shift is enough, given how close she already is. Her thigh shudders against his hand as the other presses to his cheek -- he feels almost feverish, even against her own flooding warmth. She gasps and her spine arcs, her neck curving enough to raise slightly from the bed. Her hand around his squeezes, white knuckled.

In her head, everything goes white and blessedly silent for a long moment. The tension in her limbs ebbs away and she feels like her bones have turned to jelly inside her skin.

Inhaling sharply, Julie shudders in the aftermath, her mind still fuzzy and spinning just a little. ]

[ There's nothing he appreciates more than feeling her shiver beneath him, tense and then loose all at once. He lifts from between her legs, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth.

The gold chain twists between his fingers as he leans in to kiss her. It's a different sort of satisfaction that settles over him, the kind that comes from knowing he's given her more fucking pleasure than she knows what to do with.

Exactly what he wants. Exactly what he needs, perhaps. Lately it seems as though everything he touched, everything he came near, just crumbled apart, wilting, dying, afraid. So this—a reminder that she's here safe with him, that these moments are still theirs to have, it's good. He'll indulge in the feeling for a bit while her breathing steadies. ]

[ If she's crumbled apart, it's only in the best way; her heart is still racing when she raises her hands to his face. Her fingers curl into his cheeks as she kisses him fiercely. The room could be on fire right now and she would have no clue, she's so focussed on him.

It is, in the grand scheme of things, a small moment, but for the first time in a week -- or longer -- she can't feel any fear or stress or a crushing sense of panic. Only the sensation of furiously beating wings inside her chest, pressing against her ribs in a way that's strangely both the best and worst feeling she's ever had. They are here, together, and it's good.

More coherent thoughts start to enter her head, once she's caught her breath, and her hands drop to pull at his shirt. He feels like a radiator on top of her, and all she can think is that she would rather be burned than have the barrier between them. ]

[ He deepens the kiss, hungry, still clearly seeking more. His eyes fall shut, and when he breathes in, it sends a heady rush through him.

As his shirt goes over his head, the other wolf's ear goes with it, discarded to the side. His tail joins it when he reaches behind him to tug the damn fuzzy thing off. It's only him now, and the light shine of his eyes. The gentle whisper of his medallion rubbing against her chain.

He grinds down against her. Slow, heavy, with a soft breath into the crook of her neck. ]

[ As soon as his various furry accouterments as gone and she has every iota of his attention back, she wraps herself around him like a cocoon. Her legs fold around his hips and pull him close, her fingers sliding back into his hair. The other arm circles around him and reaches up, her nails pressing into the meat of his shoulder. Not viciously, but enough to bite.

She clings to him with an airy sound, tilts her head toward his and winds up with her cheek pressed to his temple. He grinds against her and she rakes her hand down his back, eyelids fluttering. She can trace the map of scars without trying now, just muscle memory.

Voice soft, she murmurs, lips brushing his skin. ] Please, baby. I want you.

[ She holds him tight, practically clutching, and he leans easily into it. The sound he makes is encouragement when her nails dig into his shoulder. He doesn't stop kissing her until he needs to catch his breath, and then she's tangled around him. He grips the cushion above her head, maybe hard enough to tear the fabric, but it hardly matters right now.

He slips a hand between their bodies, pulls buttons free. Impatience makes him not bother with more than that. He wraps his fingers around himself, and he knows she can feel him brushing against her. ]

Show me how much.

[ His voice sends a pulse through her core, and the touch of his skin sends another. For a second, she's quiet, looking up at him, then her mouth curls into an impish smirk. She lets go of his hair and her hand follows his down. ]

You forgot already? [ It's her knuckles that graze him, her fingers gliding through her own slickness, wet enough that it's almost embarrassing. Her hips rock insistently up to him when she removes her hand, delicately touches her fingertips to his bottom lip. ] Maybe being a hundred is catchin' up to you.

[ Her eyelids are low, and she bites her lip, still smiling smugly. There's a weighty knot of anticipation settled into her stomach. ]

[ He laughs, soft, with a half-roll of his eyes. His lips graze the shell of her ear when he answers. ] I have a youthful spirit.

[ His mirth gives way to a darker, hungry ache when her fingers press to him, glossy nails gleaming. He takes one into his mouth, tasting her. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. He doesn't make her wait, though; between how wet she is and how hard he is, he sinks inside her with ease before long.

His breath stutters. He grips her with one hand, and the other wraps around her bedpost, or just the nearest solid thing he can grab. He's looking down at her, letting some of his weight settle atop as he rocks against her. ]

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nsfw.

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