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

Lucille might not be on the best of terms with the hostess, but she assumed Margo would get over the poison business soon enough, and things like that were rarely an issue when it came to parties here. She arrived wearing her finest gown along with a mask she had purchased a while ago for an occasion like this.

Oh, ugh. Her.

Margo wasn’t gonna hide that initial look on her face, okay? But she was also not going to kick crazy poison lady out. “Welcome,” she said, clearing the expression in favor of her best party hostess smile. “Glad you could make it, you find the place all right?”

Lucille had been prepared to deal with a worse response, so she smiled back.

"I did, thank you. It's a pleasure to be invited."

Along with everyone else.

“Of course. We’re new here, we wanna make sure everybody has a good time,” Margo said, stepping aside. “Come in, grab a drink and some food, there’s plenty.”

"Thank you," Lucille replied, stepping aside.

Did they have a piano by any chance?

"At least it is not a Halloween party."

No piano, no.

“It’s like a week early for that,” Margo said, “And Halloween parties are kinda more on the camp end, which, don’t get me wrong, there’s a time and a place. That time and a place is just not a housewarming.”

"I meant that as a newcomer you might not know what often happens at Halloween parties," Lucille clarified. "Choosing next week might have turned out to be unfortunate. People sometimes turn into whatever costumes they are wearing."

“Magic Halloween costume shit? Ugh, how tacky.”

"It is, isn't it," Lucille said. "Well, now you have been warned."

“Thanks,” Margo said, with a smile that was only halfway disingenuous. “Anyway, enjoy the party.”

"So good to see folks appreciating the classics," Eliot said, by way of greeting. "That color looks fantastic on you, by the way."

"Thank you." Lucille smiled.

"The classics are quite underrated on the island, I find."

She assumed she understood what he meant by the term.

"I don't believe we have met. Lucille Sharpe."

"Eliot Waugh," Eliot said, nodding. "A pleasure. Welcome to our home."

"Eliot. A pleasure to meet you, and thank you for the invitation."

That had included everyone, but still. "So, are you on the island by choice?"

"There's an ice breaker," Eliot said with a faint laugh. ". . . Sort of. One of the local gods booted my best friend here shortly before we murdered him, and I brokered a deal with the local fairy queen to chase after her. So arriving . . . yes. Staying. . . ?" He bobbed his head, then shook it.

"And yourself?"

"I went to school here, and then I chose to return after my brother died," Lucille said. "There was no reason for me to stay where I am from."

"Ah." Eliot was actually not sure how to respond to that. This was a rare experience for him. "I'm so sorry for your loss. But . . . I suppose it is Fandom's gain?"

"And my gain, after my loss," Lucille said. "I am happy to call this place my home. I have dear friends, a flower shop and a piano, instead of a crumbling mansion on top of a clay pit. But where are you from?"

"A land called Fillory. And before that, upstate New York."

And before that. . . . was a secret he didn't tell many people. As far as the multiverse at large was concerned, Eliot Waugh was born at the age of 19 in New York City.

Unaware of being one of a few select people, Lucille said:

"I have never heard of Fillory. And I know very little of upstate New York. It is in the countryside, is it not?"

Eliot couldn't help but cough faintly at that.

"It's . . . pastoral," he said. "But I spent most of my time on a darling little university campus, not amongst the . . . pastures."

"I am sure that a university would suit you better than fields," Lucille said. "Although I admit I don't know you well enough to truly judge that."

"I should hope I project enough of an air for you to be certain of that assumption," Eliot said. "Though . . . Fillory is rather depressingly agrarian."

"And what is your opinion of Fandom?" Lucille asked.

"It's . . . quaint," Eliot said. "Certainly not the worst place to pass the time, if I can't be on my throne or with my friends. I could have done without the whole 'spending a weekend as a ghost' thing, though."

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

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