not_a_goddamn_princess | MASQUERADE PARTY, 33 Apocalypse Ave, Friday Evening

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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!]

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Hannibal took just a moment at the door to straighten his cuffs from the walk before he knocked. For the evening, he was dressed in a cream-colored, double-breasted suit with a faint gold-thread plaid in it, along with a gold brocade waistcoat and a matching, musical-themed mask. Hopefully that was up to standards.

“Well, hello. Dr. Lecter, right?” Margo said, as the door swung open. “Classing it up, I like it.”

"Queen Margo the Destroyer," Hannibal greeted her with a smile and a bow. "Thank you. And I come bearing a housewarming present." It was a very good bottle of Venetian wine, to fit the occasion.

“High Queen,” Margo said absently, “But I won’t dock points since you brought me nice things.”

She took the wine.

“Very nice things.”

"My apologies," Hannibal said, "High Queen. And I wouldn't dream of showing up empty-handed, particularly to such an elegant party." He looked around and took in the whole scene. "I pride myself on my own, but as I have no magic, you have definitely outdone me."

Which mostly made him want to learn magic.

“I’m sure you have your own skills,” Margo said easily. “Next time I’ll have to take you up on that catering offer, right? Maybe a joint operation?”

"That," Hannibal said, "sounds divine. The island won't know what's hit it."

“Maybe New Years,” Margo mused. “Gotta go into the new year hungover, it’s a rule.”

Hannibal hummed in thought. "And that gives us plenty of time to plan, even if I need to ship in some ingredients. We'll need to start with a theme, of course. And I should warn you that around here, fireworks are often a bad idea. Too many veterans. Also circuses and carnivals, sharks, and large fish in general."

Fandom generated some unique PTSD.

“They should really write some kinda guidebook for newbies, huh,” Margo said, raising an eyebrow. “Weird shit happened, fucked people up. Got it.”

"Every now and again somebody attempts that," Hannibal noted. "It's difficult to keep up with." He shrugged. "So long as we avoid gunpowder and a circus or aquatic theme, we should be fine." He smiled. "Although Sidon would no doubt adore the latter."

"So there is such thing as classy plaid," Eliot mused, looking Hannibal over. "I might have known you'd be the one to find it."

Hannibal chuckled. "My husband often said it was my superpower - making plaid look good. I prefer to think of it as a finely honed skill. I adore your mask," he said, nodding approvingly. "Classic but cutting-edge."

"Thank you!" Eliot pressed his hand to his chest. "That's an edge I always aspire to walk. Come on in, let me get you something to drink."

"Yes, please." Hannibal smiled. "I brought a bottle of wine for housewarming, but that's for the two of you for later. What have you got for the party this evening?"

"Thank you! That's incredibly thoughtful." Eliot would even be good and not bogart said wine himself, after the party wound down. "For cocktails, I've prepared Venetian spritzers, a Greek 'evil eye' themed concoction with blue curacao and cream, and our signature for the night, Death in the Afternoon, which is a blend of champagne and absinthe. And of course, we have wines for those who prefer it, mostly Italian vintages to suit the theme."

Hannibal nodded. "I tend to prefer wine myself, but I don't often get a chance to have good absinthe. And as it is the signature, why not?"

“Excellent choice. Hallucinogenic or non?”

Hannibal chuckled. "Non-hallucinogenic, please. The alcohol will be enough."

"For some," Eliot agreed easily, and headed for the bar to prepare the drink, waving for Hannibal to follow along if he liked. "But I find it's nice to provide options.

Hannibal nodded, following. "I have nothing against those options, but I prefer not to myself. Does your option involve more wormwood than usual, or something else?"

"Nothing so botanical," Eliot said. "Just a simple enchantment. Brightens the colors, makes the lights dance. A nice gentle trip."

Hannibal nodded in interest. "I can see where that would be interesting. I prefer to be more in control of my faculties, but I can appreciate" manipulate "other people's use of them."

Hannibal should maybe not find out just how much Eliot relied on chemicals to get him through the average day, huh.

“To each their own,” he said easily. He finished Hannibal’s drink and presented it with a flourish. “Enjoy.”

"Thank you." Hannibal bowed and took it, then drank. "Mm. Very interesting. Not flavors I might usually choose, but you've done an excellent job."

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