(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

quintalian. ota.

[kinkprofessor]

the party.

[ He enjoys a party as much as the next person. Honestly, they usually begin as an excuse to network that end up in wild benders he barely remembers. This masquerade, however, is tame and he's doing his best to behave.

Who knows how long that will last, really, but the effort is there. Gold star, Quin, you aren't being as gross as you could be.

His costume is a deer with the black nose, white freckles, and dusting of brown on his face. He's already gotten into the Kicky Blood Punch, of course, and is happy to dance with anyone that might be available. ]

I'm better at more formal dancing, I admit, so you might have to show me how it's done.

[ He'll also mingle at the refreshment table when he goes for more snacks (and punch), offering something via tentacle to someone close to him. ]

They're sanitary, I promise.

[ When he's had enough that there's a slight spin to his head, he'll wander his way towards one of the chairs and- Oops, he didn't see someone already sitting there when he plopped down. Or did he? He'll never tell. Either way, he smiles in a friendly and convincingly sheepish manner about the """mishap.""" ]

I do love that autumn chill, but mostly because it makes getting close to someone and warm that much more enjoyable. Don't you think?

[ He's... not moving. Good luck. ]

the panic.

[ Hallucinating isn't actually a new phenomenon for him. He's always been a lot more reckless though when visions like this one come to haunt him. ]

Abithanth? [ he asks, in a voice both small and fond.

Before him stands another brunette man about the same height and build; they have the same eye shape, but Ab isn't wearing glasses. His hair is slicked back and shaved down on the sides. He's wearing a lab coat with Zenith's emblem embroidered on the chest pocket. It doesn't suit him at all.

His smile is genuine that makes it cut even deeper than it would otherwise. ]

𝓐𝓲, [ it's said with such affectionate as his smile grows. ] 𝓘 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓲𝓽. 𝓘 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓮. [ Ab bridges the distance between them, pressing his forehead to Quin's masked face. ] 𝓘𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽? 𝓦𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓰𝓸 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮, 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷.

[ This might not look horrific to someone on the outside, but Quintalina's shallow breath and uncharacteristically downcast gaze would say otherwise. ]

anything else.

(( ooc: if you want to plot anything specifically or have another idea, hit me up on discord (Rose#0503), plurk (soulblossom), or PM this journal! ))

Party

[coolmotivestillevil]

[ Geralt, for one, has no intention of actually sampling anything. Not until he's given everything a good inspection, AKA staring at and sniffing everything. When Quin offers him something with a tentacle, his immediate disgust has less to do with the fact that it's a tentacle and more that he doesn't know what all of this is and that it's Quin offering it.

It's very obvious disgust, complete with a sneer and scrunched nose. ]

[kinkprofessor]

Oh, don't look at me like that. [ He doesn't say it in any harsh of a way; actually, it sounds a bit more like light-hearted teasing.
Since the man doesn't take it, he pops the morsel into his mouth and hums. ]

See? Perfectly fine. [ And then, because he'd seen Geralt's apprehension even before his offering- ] I would like to think the technicians would be a bit more creative than poisoning us.

[coolmotivestillevil]

Could get creative with the poison.

[ He'll hold his judgment for a while yet. ]

[kinkprofessor]

I'd like to think a bit more highly of them than that, considering... [ A vague wave with his tentacle around them. ] all the trouble they've gone to in order to keep us here.

[ A pause, then, considering- ] Is the threat of being poisoned a regular occurence for you?

[coolmotivestillevil]

All kinds of threats is familiar to me.

[ All he knows is that the Technicians wants to cause harm in one way or another. That's enough to be wary of anything the Technicians set up, to him. ]

[kinkprofessor]

It sounds like you lead a rather interesting life! [ Sure, Quin, that's one way of putting it. He does seem sincerely interested though. He's also doing his best to maintain a comfortable distance, sans that one tentacle. ]

What did you do before here, exactly?

[coolmotivestillevil]

[ Not sure he likes the sincere interest tbh. ]

Monster hunter.

[kinkprofessor]

[ It really is a catch-22. ]

Well, that certainly does explain a few things. [ Like what. Who knows! He's not about to say. ]

Well, I've sampled a few things here and haven't keeled over yet so I'd say your safe. I also doubt they make monsters that compact, but- I've been wrong before.

[coolmotivestillevil]

Mm.

[ Again, not really worried about the keeling over thing, but he doesn't care enough to keep talking about it. Instead, he's just going to ... leave. Rudely. It's nothing personal, though. ]

Seating Arrangements :)

[singularwidower]

[Daemon is not...exactly taken by surprise inasmuch as he watched one of the others trapped in this place with him that he hadn't yet had a close encounter with tip his way over toward where Daemon is seated. Still, he doesn't attempt to stop the stranger sitting down. His words, however, have Daemon raising an eyebrow and shifting to settle the man more securely on his lap.

This is a game that Daemon is familiar with from a time and place where the stakes were much, much higher. He can feel himself tensing up with the memory of it, his smile growing sharper and colder. If he doesn't want to damage the stranger, he'll have to put him aside if memory becomes too much. But, for the moment, he is willing to indulge his curiosity as to where the stranger intends for this to go.

He leans forward enough so that his words are for the stranger alone.]

Such a transparent flirtation.

[Daemon brings a hand forward to rest gently on the man's hip. It's not a tentative touch, but it is the equivalent of a polite inquiry. If they're playing a game, is touch included? A shade more dryly amused, he adds:]

If appropriate for the circumstances. I don't believe we've met.

[kinkprofessor]

[ In this moment, he realizes just how much he's missed this. The intimacy of whispers and gentle touches from someone else, the excitement of it being a stranger- The feeling of being wanted. He craves it so. ]

Finally, someone around here who notices. [ He has been so forward yet so unsuccessful. Woe is him, obviously. He melts into that touch though and takes it as a sign that he can get a little closer. Daemon will find arms wrapped around his neck now. ]

But no, I don't believe so. Isn't that the fun of masquerades though? The mystery of who's behind the masks.

[singularwidower]

If there are more than fifty people in this entire prison, I would be very surprised, and no mask is enough to truly hide an identity from me. For that you'd need a proper illusion.

[Daemon's tone remains dry, though his eyebrows do inch upward at how the man goes pliant in his arms and wraps his arms around Daemon's neck. Daemon is far too much of a professional at this to do something as gauche as freeze, but he does allow himself a moment to run a warm palm up this stranger's side and consider.

He concludes that this is still fine; they're both obeying the push-pull of the thing. This hadn't happened until Daemon had made a move. He'd accepted advances much like this before and he hadn't edged too far into old habits.

As such, he feels no qualms in offering a sharp, slow smile to the face now so much closer to his own. With the stranger still seated across his lap, Daemon resettles his hands, one on the small of the man's back and one on the man's leg near his knee, and indulges himself in stroking gently with his thumbs.]

But if the mystery appeals, then give me your name at the end of the night.

[kinkprofessor]

Elusive is one of the things I've been called, I'll have you know.

[ That was one of the nicer ones, too! He'll spare Daemon the boring details of all that though. They have much more important matters at hand like gentle caresses and subtle power-plays. The touch to his back and thumb running in a rhythm against his leg makes him sigh just slightly in contentment.

He's been so deprived of touch here, really. Obviously. He responds in kind by grazing his nails along the nape of the man's neck to test what he's allowed to get away with. ]

You have yourself a deal. Though I doubt you'll have much trouble appealing to me.