lake party invite + mingle (open)

[channellings]

Who: any and everyone!
Where: the lake and nearby!
When: right now! (july 7th, afternoon)
What: motha 👏 fuckin 👏 lake 👏 party
Warnings: Language (!!!) for now, will be added as needed!



[no, this is not a joke and yes, it's an actual invite to a party over the network from the username: cock.licking.idiot (and no, that's not a joke, either).

those who decide that they'd rather not be square will arrive at some unspecified patch of lake shore (thanks, klaus) at a similarly unspecified time (good work, asshat) to discover that something resembling a slapdash but heartfelt lake party along the northern waterfront. a couple of tables have been dragged out of nearby cabins and now hold a probably inadvisable quantity of foods, at least half of which don't belong at a party by any means. is this what rationing looks like? this is definitely what rationing looks like. there's also an alcohol table, filled pretty sparsely early on in the party but gathering bottles and cans throughout the day. (word of mod says feel free to wing it on what kind of alcohol we have!).

a number of chairs sit in a wobbly line in the stone-filled waterfront sand, most of them not meant for beachgoing but nearly all of them able to recline. about fifty feet down the beach seems to be the splash zone, where all water horseplay exists well out of range of splashing those sitting in beachside chairs. some people dive or cannonball off the mostly-sturdy pier, while others seem to be batting around a-... is that a beach ball they have? no, it seems to be a balloon that says "get well soon". how fitting. please, someone bring them a fucking beach ball.

(this is a mingle! go ahead and make top-levels or tag into other people's.)]

Comments

[singularwidower]

[At the young man's words, Daemon's smile tips a little sharper and a little more dangerous. A flirt, this one. He rakes Eliot with a very obvious once-over. Decadent. Debauched-sloppy. Deliberate in a way that suggests he is an experienced hedonist.

Playing with fire to come onto Daemon, but the boy doesn't know that. Tsk tsk.

But adding the words 'purveyor of debauchery' to his whole mien, well. Many an aristo have taken a similar tack and Daemon's reaction after the words leave his mouth is instinctive. Disdain and a slight cooling of his expression.

Daemon catches himself as he drops a chill look on the drink.

This impossible situation is this stranger's saving grace; the chance that he's flirting because he knows who Daemon is and what he can do is very slim. The boy is young. The situation isn't anything like the bullshit Daemon's been fending off for...ever. And Daemon holds all the cards here, unrestrained by the complicated bindings of polite Blood society. There is no intricate dance that he must submit to and he is centuries an adult who knows better than to judge a young man who merely reminds him of those he'd rather forget.

Thus, as far as flirting goes, this is harmless shit. Daemon breaths out, lets as much of his cool disdain go as he can, and allows his expression to shade warmer as he accepts the 'Old Fashioned.']

This is where I would say your reputation precedes you, but I think we both know the problem with that particular nicety.

[He cannot entirely get rid of the frost to his tone, the slightly mean edge that promises that he bites. Humming, he sips, feeling the burn of alcohol, feeling it hit his system before his power begins to burn if off. A pity. Still, he toasts with the drink.]

I appreciate your restraint, and your skills. All the more-so because I would have sworn that the selection of alcohol here could be called anything but classy.

[kingish]

[ As previously discussed, if only Daemon knew how very, very innocent Eliot's idea of debauchery is in comparison, though he'll probably realize that in short order. In no way innocent enough that he doesn't recognize and visibly appreciate the hell out of anything that promises to bite. ]

What a coincidence. [ A pause, heavy with nonsense. ] I also appreciate restraints.

[ ...................... i'm really sorry

eliot isn't

but i am ]

[singularwidower]

[The tension in his chest thrums and he lets his gaze go a little dark and a little mellow. A calculated expression.]

Is that so?

[He flicks his gaze first to Eliot's throat, then to his wrists. Perhaps a little bit of playing along? Get himself out of his head. Because that was blatant and he honestly could not say for himself whether he was amused or not. More would be necessary to make any sort of judgement and, well. What the hell else was he doing? He takes another sip of his whiskey to inject the appropriate amount of dramatic pause.]

I must say I am surprised. With this quantity of liquor on offer, quality regardless, restraint seems like it would be hard to come by.