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vestigelogs2020-10-26 11:08 pm
vestigemods) wrote in vestigelogs2020-10-26 11:08 pm
(event) WELCOME TO THE MASQUERADE
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.
no subject
Godfinn turns, his head tilting, his smile beautific, "She is 𝕱𝖎𝖓𝖊, just 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒, ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱʜᴇ? Aren't you, ǝuıɯ-ɹǝʇsıs?
She tries to push out, shoving at his shoulders. "Godfinn, please leave them be, please..."
no subject
Some high-born foreigner who isn't part of the cultivation world, someone to whom Jiang Cheng isn't beholden for political relations, doesn't warrant such effort.
Thus, he doesn't try to hide his scowl as he steps closer, or the sneer pulling at his lips. "She doesn't look fine to me! Don't patronize me!"
no subject
But even with her squirming, her begging, her demanding. The cold fingers of the dead have no mercy. Grabbing her shoulder he twists her, turns her. Pulling her sharply back against his chest as he grips her throat.
"That's right 【J】【i】【a】【n】【g】. I'ᗰ ᕼEᖇ ᗷᖇOTᕼEᖇ. The rightful 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧. Second-Child. Who was going to raise the greatest army the world had ever seen. She told you about me, didn't she?" The cold, dirt stained fingers sink into her cheeks as he holds her face right where he wanted. The other arm tight around her waist. "And I am going to take back what my snivelling, cowardly, weak, sister stole from me."
She wants to be strong. Wants to brave. But all that comes from her voice is a pathetic almost scream of fear. "I didn't want it! Godfinn, please, you must believe me, I never wanted the throne - I never wanted any of this."
"𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐏! 【Ｙｏｕ ａｎｄ ｍｏｔｈｅｒ ｓｔｏｌｅ ｉｔ ｆｒｏｍ ｍｅ】. We have the power to devour TᕼE ᗯOᖇᒪᗪ and you beg for s̴̖̤̬̰̗̳͘͜ͅc̸̨̦̟̞̫̹̹̣̖̰̏̒͆̀̌̂̽̓͐̇r̸̦̮̙̟̩̥̖̞̐̓̀̿͒̈͊̍͘͘͜a̵̢̭̖̬̫̝͇̖͇̤͑̑̌͌̓́͠p̸̤̯͚͗́͠s̶̲͈͎̖̞̰̯̯̖̝̀̅̌̾, and now you're going to 𝕓𝕖𝕘 like I 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕕! You will be cut off from our beloved Father like I was! You will watch them watch you die like I did!"
no subject
He may have often berated Gilia himself for being too nice, too weak, too optimistic about human nature, but this still has him bristling. This man has him bristling. She shouldn't be afraid - but he shouldn't be interfering in the matters of other families, that is improper, too.
But is this man even family? Is he not, at very best, a spirit returned resentful and dangerous? Family matters are not his to interfere with among the living.
He places a hand on the man's shoulders, finding himself a little surprised after everything to touch a solid body, and digs his fingers in deep with a cultivator's strength. If he can turn this resentment on himself, then at least he won't have to look at Gilia looking so anguished any longer, and facing the wrath of the dead is his duty not hers.
"She told me about you, yes," he says, eyes on Gilia instead. "She told me enough to know you are pathetic. You turned against your clan and you died in disgrace."
cw: degrading sexist slurs, etc
Godfinn turns, snapping his own arm out to shove the other man off.
"𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢?! ＤＩＳＧＲＡＣＥ?! 𝕊𝕙𝕖 is the Disgrace! 𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝕴! ᴀ ᴡʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴏʀɪɴɢ!"
Gilia can't help but sob, so barely smothered and Godfinn laughs, laughs and laughs until it turns itself to ugly, wheezing, shudders of the earth groaning. "𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷, 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓻! 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕪. She's sure to cry through the whole thing, she always ᴄʀɪᴇꜱ, ᵢ'd ᵣₑcₒₘₘₑₙd ₛₘₒₜₕₑᵣᵢₙg ₕₑᵣ ₕₐₗf wₐy ₜₕᵣₒᵤgₕ."
no subject
Alarm, though, alarm there is. The anticipation of battle makes him tense up further, that hand dropping back to the handle of his sword, eyes flickering briefly to Gilia. By everything she has told him she is far more powerful than he is, but will she be able to use her power against the face of her brother? It doesn't even matter if it is him or some local evil wearing his face, the resentful dead still have to be dealt with even if they once used to be loved ones.
But there is no attack, no attempt to choke him with earth and rot or claw Gilia into pieces, just more words which are bound to cut her even deeper.
Disgust coils his stomach but he forces himself not to take the bait any longer, there will be no reasoning. Instead, he reaches out a hand to Gilia. ] Come here. Let's leave. He isn't worth your time.
no subject
But she - she can't bare it anymore. She can barely even draw her breath to scream in fear of him. His grip on her lost, and he knows it, that he turns. Snarling, screaming his own fearful cries. Like only the dead facing their fate can sound.
Underneath them, the ground churns, turns to mud, a sink, deep, black mud, and she needs no further urging. She stumbles, trying to reach for Jiang, her dress staining below her, as she reaches for his hand. So barely able to touch his fingers for how she shakes. ]
no subject
Well, avoiding the gag reflex and reaching for Gilia, grabbing for her hands as the ground shakes, though he is having a hard time keeping his balance, too. ]
Come [ he barks at her, alarmed now rather than angry, and yanks her rather roughly towards him as soon as he has a good grip on her hands, then stumbling backwards, trying to get them both away from the area where the ground looks like it will swallow them up... or at least her vile brother. ]
no subject
Then the hand snatches her. Wet, rotten fingers, that wrap around her ankle and she screams in fear of it.
Not for no reason, exactly what he was afraid of comes to pass. Her hands grip him for all she is worth as it drags her back and down. Down, down, down into the depths. Into the unforgiving earth. ] Jiang!
[ Her scream is desperate, pleading, for him to not let her be taken. ]
no subject
[ He is reduced to a startled yelp and scrambles forward to get a better grip on her and haul her out but the ground beneath his feet is getting soft and wobbly too and even as he uses all his strength, somehow the rotten fingers dragging her by the ankles are equally matched with his cultivator's strength, something that should be impossible. ]
Stop it [ he barks at the despicable creature. ] Aren't you her brother?! Act like it for once in your life and release her!