Margo Hanson (
not_a_goddamn_princess) wrote2021-10-22 01:59 pm
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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!]
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!]
Re: Arrive and Say Hi
He did not, however, always wear such nice clothing. This had necessitated a shopping excursion for a new black jacket and a hint of purple to tuck into the pocket.
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"But if there's something to go with it that could work. I could try that."
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She reached for the stack by the door and picked up a subtle black-and-purple metal mask. She made an elaborate gesture with one hand, then moved it down, as if she was pulling on something.
Half the right side of the mask came off, leaving just the upper arch.
She held it out for him. “Hold this for me for a second. Your mask’s metal, right?”
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"It is metal," he confirmed. "This isn't anything permanent?"
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She formed an oval shape with her hands. She brought her palms together, and moved each finger in turn. Then she spread her hands again, and. . . done.
“There,” she said. “Now it’s magnetic for a few hours. Should stick to your mask just fine.”
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"Thank you," he said with a small but clearly delighted smile. "Magnetic is a good idea. Does it look alright?"
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And if it had just been that his face wasn't sparkly enough for this evening, she'd still made it work with his own mask and that was still appreciated. And if this went with the pocket square then it ought to go well with Faye and her outfit and that was also appreciated.
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It could probably still use some more sparkles.
"I can't really leave it off," Stark said. "I'll leak."
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". . . Leak . . . what?"
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"She did," he said, touching the additional mask gently. "She found one and made it fit and made it magnetic so it would stay."
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"And yes. A drink would be good, I think. Thank you."
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"What is it?"
Those two sentences probably ought to have switched order.
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"It's a little thing dubbed 'death in the afternoon'," Eliot said proudly. "A combination of champagne and absinthe, with a touch of simple syrup for a hit of sweetness. Are you a fan of licorice, by chance? . . . Or hallucinogens?"
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"Hallucinogens?" Stark asked, alarmed. "No. None of that. Licorice is fine but no."
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At least someone would opt for the hallucinatory one. Seivarden and Eliot were probably better off not becoming too good friends, or they might manage to encourage all the wrong addictive habits in each other.
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"Thank you," he said again. "Alcohol is fine. Other things seem unwise, I think."
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