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.
no subject
It's his other question that gets her. Julie blinks back at him. She has met people from other worlds, people without any technology even close to her own, and she's met people from different years, too. But all of the people from Earths parallel to her own have been from roughly the same era. At least far enough to have a vague understanding of the internet and social media.
She holds one hand up and gestures aimlessly, just an insistent wave of her palm. ] Youtube. Maybe y'all call it somethin' else, I guess that's possible? It's a video sharin' website. You know, social media.
[ One of the big spiders on her body helpfully climbs her shoulder, carrying an iPhone. An iPhone 11 Pro, specifically, as it was the most recent model released before Captain Trips hit. She takes it from the creature, and with a few careful taps, she opens the facsimile of Youtube that she created for herself on it -- it only shows things she's seen before, but it otherwise works the same. She types for a second, then holds up the screen to Steve. ] See? Obama.
[ She has no clue that she's not just introducing a rap musical to him; it's Youtube, smartphones, the internet, and even the first Black president. ]
no subject
[ because she does say it like it's obvious and steve guesses he can just sort of go with this. none of it's really real, anyway, so why the hell now? and it is a party, and his current halloween party streak isn't exactly good, so what does he have to lose?
it's only when she starts going into the further explanation of whatever 'youtube' is that steve realizes how much of this he really...doesn't understand. like at all. so she keeps talking and his expression remains vaguely confused and a little blank. ]
I...don't know. Maybe? But I don't know what a web site or a social media is. Are you talking about a like, store? I work at a video store but it's not really sharing, you have to pay for it. Sharing would be more of a library, but-
[ that's when the spider provides what looks like a kind of flat almost walk-man looking thing, and steve's frown deepens, even more confused. has he gotten himself into one of those situations where julie is just a whole lot more creative with everything and therefore he's never really going to understand? part of him thinks he should just let it be, but then she holds up the thing to him and it looks like...
he steps closer, leaning in to watch about ten, fifteen seconds of the film before he's looking around her hands, and then back to her. ] Is that a TV? There's no plug... Do you put batteries in that? Where do they go?
[ he has literally no idea who obama or any of the other people on that screen could be, but this is more important. ] It's tiny, but it's so clear. And small- like, I don't even know where the VHS would go.
no subject
Finally, she says, with a pretty obvious degree of confusion, ] What year are you from? 'Cause I ain't heard anyone talk about VHS or video stores since I was a little kid. DVDs, sure, but not like, an old-school video tape. I don't even think video stores are a thing anymore.
no subject
Uh...eighty-six? [ a beat, and then steve is leaning back away from her just a little bit, his brow furrowed. it's his turn to look confused. ] What year are you from?
no subject
Steven appears from out of nowhere to hand her another drink, which she immediately gulps down half of. ] Sugarbear, I'm from twenty-twenty. Well, twenty-twenty one, technically, but.
[ She trails off, waggling her fingers vaguely. 2020 was the last year that mattered -- they'd made it past New Year's, but only in the vaguest of senses. ]
Most of the other Americans are from around the same time. Some a little before, some a little after. But like, a few years. Not decades.
no subject
and then there's the bartender, handing her a drink, and steve looks from him to julie then back before she starts talking again. what she ends up saying doesn't make any more sense and leaves steve just sort of blinking at her. ]
Twenty...twenty one? [ there are a whole lot of questions that spill through his mind at that moment - but none of them really sound appropriate. you mean the world lasts that long? what happened to to the soviet union? have you heard anything about hawkins, indiana? ]
Wait- there are more people from America? Like- hold on. Stop. [ steve gestures around a bit, like he's trying to cut off the conversation, or at least pause it.
he doesn't even know if it's the edibles or something else but he's having a hard time with this at the moment. ] So everyone here from America is from the same time? But it's not my time, or Eddie's either technically. Or except for like- the ones from medieval whatever. Or the places that don't exist- or, that we didn't know exist? Fuck. [ a beat, where he's going to reach for his cup, drain it, and then look after stephen again. ]
Can I get another drink? [ a beat, and then- ] Please?
no subject
[ She watches him, but then furrows her brow. What does he mean, "more people from America"? How has he not met them? Even in Solvunn, Julie knows Wanda lived in America before she was summoned. She just wasn't born there. ] 'Course there's other Americans. Me and Nadine, we're from the exact same world. Dean and his crew are from an America with angels and demons and monsters, I think they're from around twenty-fifteen? Sam and that whole group, the superheroes, they're American too -- Sam is from Louisiana, Steve Rogers and Stephen Strange are both from New York. Toby Stork too. And Wanda was born in Europe, but she lived in America for a few years. They're all from a little after me, like a year or two, but our timelines don't match up all the way. There's others, too. I think we're all from at least twenty-ten.
[ She sips at the remainder of her drink while Steven produces a glass for Steve. She starts tapping on her phone again, at a speed which suggests that she is an extremely practiced phone typist, then continues speaking. ]
Every version of Earth is a little different. Unless you already know someone from before Abraxas, there's probably some big things that happened in your world or theirs that didn't happen in the other. But a lot of the basic stuff is the same. Some politics, pop culture, religions. Enough that we don't hafta teach every little thing to each other. You're gonna get real tired of doin' that. I've had to explain dinosaurs and like, peanut butter. All kinds of stuff.
[ Her nose wrinkles and she glances up from the screen, where a list is forming in her notes app. ] You said there's another one of y'all? I'm just tryin' to think of stuff y'all should probably learn to keep up with the rest of us. Like major things that happened in all of our worlds, far's we can tell.