not_a_goddamn_princess | MASQUERADE PARTY, 33 Apocalypse Ave, Friday Evening

Party night. The best of nights. An ornate sign on 33 Apocalypse’s door invited all to knock and make themselves known.

The space inside was bigger than it looked from the outside, stretched and displaced by magic. The wallpaper was green and textured, hinting at the English countryside. On one side of the room sat a significant bar offering food and drinks, while the other gave ample space to sit. A large Jenga tower held prominence in a corner.

It was easy to miss it, though, in favor of the little streams of water that ran across furniture and floor. Tiny glass gondolas, animated by magic, made their way back and forth across each stream. The gondolas were real, though the water itself was an illusion. It called attention to the ceiling, doubly enchanted: both to draw all cigarette smoke to itself so it wouldn’t blow in anyone’s face, but also to mimic the starry sky above Venice.

You could watch the stars twinkle, or see the occasional cloud go by. Magical fireflies added to the illusion, dancing through the air like tiny lights. If you listened closely, you could hear the sea rolling in across an invisible beach. Even the air smelled faintly of it: the sea, warm food and good wine.

Welcome to Eliot and Margo’s pad, people. They’d make damn sure you had a good time.

[ocd up, come party!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well there's Christmas in July...." Dwight mused, relaxing a little more. "Maybe we should start up something similar. And depending on what usually goes on for it, New Years is coming up. Though I honestly might be heading off island for that if Fandom goes the traditional route with the celebrations."

"Bit past July," Irene noted lightly. "I remember quite liking the holidays around here. Sometimes we get a bit of snow. Sometimes it's made of powdered sugar."

And sometimes Irene had to haul out a raincoat she didn't like because it rained syrup the next day, but she'd rather not think about that.

"I haven't been here long enough for any good holidays" Dwight admitted. "Interested to see how Fandom celebrates."

Just hopefully there was no abundance of fireworks or the like

"Have to admit" he said, giving Irene a slight smile "will be nice to not be celebrating alone again this year."

"Oh, stick around here and someone'll force you to sit down at their Thanksgiving dinner and make you play Santa Claus for their children," Irene teased, before actually pausing and giving Dwight a better look. "You know, you would be a good Santa, I oughtn't say that too loud."

"Hah well thankfully there's like what, all of five kids if that on the island who are old enough to still believe in Santa" Dwight said with a chuckle. "Though I guess people probably do come to the island to visit for the holidays don't they?"

He thought for a moment then gave Irene a smile. "May have to look for a suite and invest in a few pillows" he said, giving his stomach a slight pat.

"I personally know at least one small child, and she would love it," Irene told him, "and, please, Dwight. You don't think loads of us would just love an opportunity to sit on your lap and tell you how naughty or nice we've been?"

Sometimes Irene flirted with people just to see them sputter.

Well if Irene wanted to see Dwight sputter, he definitely was doing a good bit of that, along with turning a nice shade of red that probably went well with the suit.

"Well, I... I'm sure it's not nearly that... nearly that many people who would...be interested."

"Don't sell yourself short," Irene chided with a tsk. "Big adorable lug like you? Half the island would be delighted. I don't think you're allowed to even live here if you're ugly."

Even Sidon was probably hot for a shark man, she was sure.

And there went the redness all over again.

"Well there are plenty of good looking people on the island. So, won't complain if I somehow get included into that mix. Though, I'm probably not many people's type. Tend to leave it to the better suited people out there" he said giving a slight nod to Irene.

Yeah ok. This? This is why he didn't try talking and flirting and whatever... he was terrible at it!

"I'm fewer people's type than you might think," Irene assured him, her smile gentling some. "Stop putting yourself down. I think the line to sit in Santa Dwight's lap would go out the door and down the street."

What door? What street? Neither of these things mattered. This was just an ego-boosting metaphor.

Dwight stood in silence for a moment, not knowing what to say to that and just actually taking a moment to enjoy that ego boost for a brief moment.

"So..." he said after a moment of near approaching awkward silence "think they make Santa suits in my size?" he asked with a laugh.

"I'm positive," Irene assured him with a firm nod. "Santa's a big fellow, isn't he? All strapping and tall and whatnot."

Okay, maybe, like, Daddy Santa, Irene.

"Hummmm... Will have to see what happens between now and then. Might be able to come up with something" he said with a quick wink and a grin.

"Oh, and thanks" he said, that sudden awkwardness starting to show itself again. "Had seriously considered not coming. These kinds of parties are not really my thing. So thanks for making it a less awkward evening. Think i would have been spending the entire night hiding in the corner or have just slipped out long ago."

Yes. Yes he was still painfully terrible at the whole socializing thing. He was working on it!

"Well, then I'm glad I didn't have to chase you into the night and drag you back here," Irene replied playfully. "I tend to make it my business to keep people from hiding in corners all night."

A pause, a shrug, and, "And you could do worse, really. Margo and Eliot are wonderful hosts." Consider her expectations met and exceeded.

"Well you have done a stellar job tonight" Dwight said with a smirk. "And yeah, Margo and Eliot are alright. I've been pleasantly surprised, even if all this" he waved his hand a little "is still way beyond me, on so many levels."

MASQUERADE PARTY, 33 Apocalypse Ave, Friday Evening

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