(event) WELCOME TO THE MASQUERADE

[vestigemods]

WELCOME TO THE MASQUERADE

OCTOBER 31ST

► THE ARRIVAL

Whether you'd like to admit it or not, some part of you couldn't quite take your mind off of this so-called Masquerade Ball. That part may have been buried deep down under layers of introversion or party-pooping, but it was there. Something about it fascinated you, as if a choice not to attend would be one you couldn't help but feel you'd regret for months to come.

Or perhaps you weren't reluctant at all. Perhaps as soon as the flyers went up, a thrilled gleam flickered across your eyes, and you made tracks for Foodland to scrape together some kind of costume for the occasion. Learned to dance, maybe. Even asked your friend or your sweetheart or that passably-attractive stranger on the street to be your date for the evening. Hey, we're not here to judge.

For some, this is your first time visiting the tent in the brand new clearing. Others may have passed by it sometime since it the night it popped up nearly ten whole days ago, stealing a glance but never quite recognizing that the arrival of such a thing might be odd (or perhaps even ominous). Either way, the lifeless polyester husk has come to life on this night, the formerly drab-looking purple now rich and glowing through from inside. The tent flap sits unzipped, catchy dance-worthy music trickling out from inside. This might just be the best shindig since the @cock.licking.idiot's lake party. (Or it might be an absolute fucking disaster. You know how these things go.)

THE PARTY

The tent flap unzips of its own accord at precisely six in the evening, and already the sounds of a sort of era-neutral dance beat trickle out of the dim. Assuming you have a costume, you'll be able to stroll right inside. If you've tried to cut corners by simply dressing nice, your feet will stick for a moment just before entry, but it seems to merely be a warning. An 'I know what you're trying to pull and I'm letting it slide just this once', but from who? It's impossible to say. If you've not dressed up at all, well, you'll find your feet stick fast just outside the entry flap, unable to move in any direction but backward. That's alright, really - you can run quick to fetch a costume if you'd like, any costume will do.

From the inside, the tent is even larger and more grand than it seemed, and is decorated with subtle but eerie Halloween decor. The lighting is dim but not nearly enough to strain your eyes, coming largely from the scattering of old-fashioned lanterns dangling from the ceiling on near-invisible chains. Touch the walls of the tent, at least in the main ballroom, and you'll feel a nearly unseen layer shift under your fingers, feeling entirely too much like a layer of sturdy cobwebs for many's comfort. The music itself comes from out-of-the-way black speakers in various corners of the ballroom, along both the floor and the ceilings. There's no 'deejay station' or any kind of stage. There is, however, a small tablet halfway up the wall next to the refreshments tables to allow you to queue up a song through a rather simple-to-use interface or even voice command. It even responds to vague requests, like "something less stuffy" or "gimme a slow jam".

Speaking of refreshments, there are plenty. Two tables large enough to seat at least eight are covered in plates and bowls of various snacks and finger-foods, from sweet to savory. The food is absolutely fresh, more so even than what you'd find at foodland - the veggie tray is crisp and well-stocked, and the chunks of various meats and cheeses taste almost artisanal. Next to the food sits a similar table with two large punch-bowl centerpieces - one bowl of 'Blood Punch' (like regular punch, but darker red), and one bowl of 'Kicky Blood Punch' (the same, but with alcohol in it). The punch is almost definitely the best refreshment on offering, the absolute perfect mix of tangy and sweet, complete with floating and submerged chunks of fresh pineapple. The plates and cups both are a sturdy transparent plastic, the one break from the otherwise uniformly festive gathering.

Near the refreshments are the only other furniture in the room (beyond the occasional bench along the wall), a handful of lightweight faux-cast-iron tables, each with a set of matching chairs. It's a place to sit while you catch your breath from all that dancing, or even just to kick back and mingle.

A couple of hallways shoot off from the ballroom, one at each side, and while they each lead to a bathroom, wandering past the bathroom may very well get you lost. The tent wasn't this large from the outside, was it? Unless you're looking for somewhere to be alone, you may want to consider heading back.

THE PANIC

This Masquerade Ball's been quite an occasion... Music, celebration, and plenty of good food and drink. But once the clock strikes nine, it all begins to unravel. Not blatantly, of course. It may even take a few minutes for the partygoers to realize quite what's occurred. One lantern burns out, then two, then three, enough to dim the room even further but not plunge it into darkness altogether. The slow zip of the entry flap is nearly inaudible over the sounds of the music, but once it's zipped, it's stuck hard and fast and not even inhuman strength can budge it - nor can you slice a new exit through the wall of the tent. Even the music itself begins to distort, from clear to scratchy, or from quick to slow as if toggling the fast-forward key. By twenty minutes after nine, whichever half-mutilated tune it's playing degenerates to a single long screech, like feedback almost but much too raw. And then the speakers are silent... But by now, most of you have your own troubles to deal with.

Because fears have begin to manifest - not just any fears, but your deepest and darkest, the ones that terrify you and plague your dreams. Some, you'll recognize right away. Others may be the best available interpretation, foreign to you but for the visceral fear it elicits in your gut. Some go away in a few short minutes. Others will haunt you until the very instant midnight strikes.

It wouldn't be Halloween without a few good scares, now would it?

Once the clock strikes midnight, all remaining fears disappear back into shadows or obscure corners, or even through the newly-unzipped flap of the tent, never to return. Has it really only been three hours since that started? It feels like much longer, enough so that it's jarring to see by the moon that the night has just barely begun. By now, it's painfully obvious that attending the Masquerade was a shady idea at best - why didn't you see it before? You can't imagine how something so obvious slipped past you, but it did.

As soon as the last shaken partygoer steps out from inside, the tent collapses in a formless heap on the grass. There it lingers, a deflated shell of both the vibrant party and the den of terrors it was just minutes or hours ago. In fact, it's still there even as the last person leaves the clearing, but should you return for another glimpse even sixty short seconds later, you'll find that the tent (in all of its immensity) has disappeared altogether.

At this point, weary partygoers are free to drag their tired, potentially traumatized, and generally hungover asses back to wherever they call home. Into bed, most likely - if they can even fall asleep, after a nightmare like that.

► MOD NOTES

• This is a catch-all log for top-levels pertaining to October's Welcome To The Masquerade event. Go ahead and utilize vestigenet for any event-related network posts you'd like to make.
  
• All event information can be found in the Event Write-Ups tab of the October Bulletin, as well as the Masquerade FAQ.
  
• Please take care to label your top-levels or prompts with either which segment of the event it pertains to (the party or the nightmares) and/or what time it takes place (before 9 or after 9), so that folks looking for either fun party stuff or horror stuff can see at a glance where they might hop in.
  
• The network does still work during the fear portion of this event, and characters are able to post to it and/or contact others within or outside of the tent.
  
• Reiterating that it is possible for your character to resist the inclination to attend the Masquerade - it's more of a shove in the party-ward direction than any sort of compulsory thing.
  
• Any questions can be directed to this top-level or, for a quicker response, to Trace on discord/plurk.

Comments

Lan Jingyi | MDZS | OTA

[gusumouthcannon]

Food and Bodyguarding

An overabundance of caution has left Jingyi somewhat hesitant to go to unfamiliar places 1) without Sizhui and/or let Sizhui go alone and 2) without some sort of good, solid weapon in addition to his sword that he can throw as a distraction. Like this stout tree branch covered with leaves that's nearly as tall as he is! Of course, it also matches his tree costume, which matches Sizhui's forest child costume.

Jingyi, though, for the first bit of the evening, is very much lulled into a false sense of security. He is staked out by the food table, grazing happily over all the finger foods. Anytime anyone else comes to pick up something, he smiles with his mouth full and point out some of his favorites. A couple of cheeses. Something of the fruit. And this extremely tasty little pastry that's sweet onion and goat cheese.

A Good Old-fashioned Haunt

An abject failure at trying to keep Sizhui safe, Jingyi has lost sight of him and acquired a ghost. It is much like the ghosts that had been floating around in September. Spectral, hovering slightly in the air and looking generally fairly benign for a ghost, even with the milky white eyes. Jingyi can almost feel it sapping his life away.

The problem is that it is Sizhui, floating there, head cocked politely, ghostly hands folded across his front. Even though Sizhui is here. Hopefully alive somewhere.

But what if he is not?!

So Jingyi stands, terrified, his knees locked and the branch covered with leaves pointed at the ghost to keep it from floating any nearer. His sword is forgotten where it's strapped to his back, his pupils all but pinprick of fear. Even if he knows exactly how to deal with something like this, knows what is expected of him even if it is Sizhui, he would need to be able to move; after a whole month of these things popping up when he least expected them, he really hasn't had enough time to recover. That it is Sizhui and he is also beset by guilt and failure and heartbreak? He cannot even call for help.

Wildcard

I match brackets or prose!

food (and probably the guarded)

[deferences]

Sizhui, of course, has no trouble finding his faithful little tree best friend near the refreshment tables. He's come to collect more of his own snacks, possibly refill his cup, although he's not sure if he should continue eating the fruit from the so-called ‘kicky’ blood punch because it's beginning to feel oddly like he's somewhat intoxicated.

(...oh, is that what the ‘kick’ is supposed to be? He should've known!)

“Jingyi, Jingyi,” he singsongs softly, giggling afterward. Why is his name so fun to say? Sizhui's got no clue, but he certainly seems to enjoy it, only tugged from his thoughts by the gesture toward the food, the pasty in particular. He reaches out, catches Jingyi's arm, hooks it with his own then reaches to pick up one of the little delicacies, waiting until he's finished eating before asking, “Ah, but what is it?”

[gusumouthcannon]

"Sizhui?" Jingyi asks, a little puzzled, because while he has indeed heard a giggly Sizhui before, it has not been in a situation like this, aka a party where there has been no mischief. He gets his his arm looped around and leans into Sizhui's side with a hum. "What...was what? The thing you just ate?"

[deferences]

“Mmm-hmm,” the other boy drawls softly in response to his name, head questioningly tipped sideways. And hey, just because the mischief isn't obvious, doesn't mean he hasn't been participating in it. (He has, he simply hadn't known that.) “This?” Sizhui gestures toward the floating pineapple pieces in the punch bowl. “Oh... it's a type of fruit, I believe.”

[gusumouthcannon]

So.

Okay.

Sizhui is the best just in general. But this is very cute. Jingyi is not actually sure what they are talking about at the moment. Probably the food. Definitely the pineapple. He peers over the kicky punch and into the bowl.

"I have not tried any yet. I should." And he is grabbing a cup and heading for the dipper. "Did you like it?"

[deferences]

Wow, Jingyi, stop.

At least it isn't being said aloud or else Sizhui would be far more embarrassed. Though, perhaps not? Given his rather inebriated state, maybe he'd feel less humble and might agree that yes, he is pretty great! When his friend looks into the bowl, he leans slightly as well, considering. Let's be honest, the younger boy probably shouldn't have more, but what's the harm after he's already drunk?

He releases Jingyi's arm once he collects a cup, contemplates another of his own while nodding agreeingly. “You should try some, it's very sweet!”

[gusumouthcannon]

"Then I will!" he agrees immediately.

The punch has a sharp fruity scent as he ladles it in his cup. He attributes this to the pineapple and not the sting of alcohol, though the instant the drink touches his lips, his eyes fly wide open and he coughs.

"Sizhui. Sizhui are you...you had this this punch, right?"

[deferences]

Sizhui somehow brightens further the moment his friend agrees to try the punch. Should he be encouraging now that it's sort of dawned on him it very well might have alcohol in it? No, probably not, but it's a little late for that when Jingyi is already filling his cup.

At the other boy's reaction, however, his eyes widen with astonishment, head absently tipped to the side whenever he remarks, “Yes, I'm sure.” He's not that inebriated, after all.

“Why? Is there something wrong?” his tone wavers slightly, “Do... do you not like it? You don't have to drink it if so!”

[gusumouthcannon]

"I will drink it!" He clutches the cup to his chest as if Sizhui might snatch it away. He has had alcohol before! As a point of fact, he will drink it because he likes it. He just needs to make sure of one thing: "You do know that this is alcohol right? That it is not just fruit and kind of scary red juice? Right?"

[deferences]

If his eyes get any wider, it's going to look downright comical. “Okay,” Sizhui answers simply, softly, eyebrows arched high toward his hairline in response to the way Jingyi's holding the cup like his life depends on it. Oh. He opens his mouth, closes it, makes a quiet mmn then finally admits, “Yes... but I didn't know until probably just a few minutes ago.”

[gusumouthcannon]

"After you drank it?" Jingyi teases him. "We need to get you used to knowing when you drink it in the first place. We will have to experiment."

And with that, he downs his own cup entirely. Sizhui has a head start! He is not going to waste time.

The stuff is. Not bad? VERY sweet. He is not sure how he feels about that as he sputters. Maybe he should have sipped it? He is honestly more used to the underlying scrape of alcohol than he is the fruity bite of the pineapple and red flavor. He coughs. "Ah."

[deferences]

“Don't be upset with me,” he pouts, which is completely unfair to do after saying that. At least he attempts pleading his case alongside looking like a kicked puppy-dog. “In my defense, whatever it's been mixed with has an almost overpowering fruit flavor.”

Again, astonishment overtakes Sizhui's expression, has his mouth hanging open this time as Jingyi guzzles the cupful all in one go.

Softly, a ‘wow!’ passes his lips before it can be stopped and instinctively, he reaches to take Jingyi's arm afterward, holding firm while he works through the aforementioned strong taste. “See? I told you it was a lot...” His nose wrinkles with concern then he gingerly, reassuringly strokes his friend's forearm. “You might not want to do that too much if you have more, or else you could get sick.”

[gusumouthcannon]

"Ah, ah, no, how could I be upset with you?" Jingyi wheezes, thumping his chest with his closed fist as if that would help the air go in. He absolutely knows that it has an overpowering fruit flavor. "It uh. Really does taste like fruit. Weird fruit."

He lets Sizhui have his other arm. "I definitely believed you, but you started before me and I was not just going to let you be, uh—" He gestures a little wildly and not because Sizhui's affection is making him feel like his face is going to burn off. Nope. Not even a little. "Like this without me. At least not for too long."

Eyeing the punch bowl again, he adds, "I will only have one more of them and we can go sit?"

[deferences]

“Well...” Sizhui anxiously trails off, lowers his gaze, wondering if this Jingyi's used to being scolded for breaking the rules like the other Lan disciple back home. It's only fair that his friend does the same in kind, isn't it? Since he's drinking alcohol, after all, which Jingyi still seems to be struggling with. “Almost tastes sort of, ah, artificial?”

Thank goodness, considering Sizhui's already the slightest bit unsteady on his feet. Nothing that will throw them off-balance or anything, just enough so when he shifts, their shoulders bump, but he's quick to right himself before it becomes too uncontrollable. Though the gesturing initially confuses him, a small smile curves his mouth at the edges after Jingyi explains then he counters, “You make it sound like I've never been inbri...in-e-bri...” Wow, when did that word get so difficult?

Rather than linger on it, he hooks their forearms a little tighter and nods agreeingly. “Okay, that sounds good to me.”