(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

[lookslikeacinnamonroll]

The problem is, throwing himself onto the fire is the only thing Wen Ning can think of to do. He should have done that years ago. He should never have been kept alive when the rest of his family were killed. It is only due to the Jin Sect's greedy machinations that he was still alive at all.

He steps forward, closer to the pyre, a hand reaching out to his sister. Never more has he wished that he were capable of tears.

"Jiejie... I'm sorry..."

Slowly, shaky step by shaky step, he approaches the burning figure. He keeps going until his hand plunges into the flames, moving to caress the charred remains of his sister's cheek. The flames burn his skin, melt the cheap fabric of his sleeve, but he doesn't withdraw his hand, just grits his teeth and remains resolute and steadfast.

[legbreakings]

Jiang Cheng watches him, seething still with anger and seething at the fact that this sight still pains him, that he still cares at all. Grimly satisfied at first that Wen Ning is heeding his command and doing something about it.

That is, he is satisfied right until he is reaching into the fire. It burns him and Jiang Cheng makes a growling noise under his breath, hands curling into fists as he fights with himself.

He should throw him into the fire. He really should. But...

Instead, he reaches for his shoulders and yanks at him, trying to yank him away from the column of fire.

"What are you doing, idiot!"

[lookslikeacinnamonroll]

The sharp pull of Jiang Cheng's grip on his shoulders makes Wen Ning stumble backwards, nearly losing his footing. As he loses contact with his sister's burnt cheek, her charred body seems to implode into itself, crumbling into a pile of ash and cinders. The fire blossoms and dies down, shooting a trail of sparks and smoke up into the air, then dying out on its own, now that it has consumed all the material there is to burn.

"I--! I don't know! I'm sorry!"

He was trying, trying to comfort his sister in her last moments. Something he hadn't been able to do the first time around. Like a pathetic, useless idiot, once again there was nothing he could do to save her. She's gone, again, leaving Wen Ning alone to face Jiang Cheng's wrath in full force.

He steps back, collapses to his knees, just feels numb inside. Jiang Cheng can do anything to him now. He doesn't care. He probably deserves it.

[legbreakings]

He watches, just watches, helpless and frustrated and so deeply shaken himself and knowing he should fix this somehow - never mind that he had been screaming at Wen Ning to fix it, but he is clearly in no state to do so, so it falls on Jiang Cheng, but...

At least he is no longer forced to watch Wen Qing burn alive but watching her brother cower in defeat isn't a joy, either. At the very least, it makes it so much harder to hate him.

"Get up," he grinds out between clenched teeth. "Get a grip on yourself and get up." He inhales a shaky breath, looking back towards where Wen Qing had been. "She..."

No, he has no words.

[lookslikeacinnamonroll]

"She's gone," he finishes the sentence for Jiang Cheng. "I couldn't save her. I could never save her..."

This place has tortured him, hurt his friends, even killed them. But Wen Ning feels like this was the worst attack yet. All its done is reminded him of how powerless he was when his sister was killed instead of him. How powerless he has always been. He may be able to fight off an army of men singlehanded, but when it counts, he will always fail.

He gets to his feet, because why not? He has no reason to defy any orders he is given now. All he is is a tool, a follower, a puppet, and a broken one at that. What good is acting defiant now?

[legbreakings]

It's like a slap in the face, enough even to have him physically flinch.

He watches with haunted eyes as Wen Ning obeys his orders to get up, but there is no satisfaction to be taken from it. There is nothing that could provide him with satisfaction right now, he suspects, let alone make the nauseous feeling go away.

"I couldn't save her either," Jiang Cheng whispers, eyes averted. "I couldn't... I didn't even try." He balls his hands into fists. "I need to get away from here."

Away from Wen Ning, away from the place of his renewed failure. Away. Just. Away.