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

"Energy," Stark said, like that explained anything. "I glow."

". . . Thematic." Eliot blinked and shook his head slightly. "That's an alien thing, yes? A. . . ." What had Stark called himself on their mini-date? ". . . Stykera thing?"

Stark nodded, pleased to be remembered. "Right, a Stykera thing. The mask keeps it held in. Keeps me held in."

"Then by all means, the mask will remain," Eliot said. "Especially since I see Margo has made sure it has some flare to go with it."

If the mask had to go Stark would have gone with it, so that was for the best.

"She did," he said, touching the additional mask gently. "She found one and made it fit and made it magnetic so it would stay."

"And matched it to your pocket square. That's my Bambi." Eliot smiled fondly. "Welcome. Would you like anything to drink?"

"I do like the purple," Stark said.

"And yes. A drink would be good, I think. Thank you."

"You are entirely welcome. Signature cocktail, or would you rather start off with some wine?"

"I'll try the cocktail," Stark decided.

"What is it?"

Those two sentences probably ought to have switched order.

Quite possibly, yes.

"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?"

They'd tried absinthe during drinking class over the summer and that had been fine. Much better than, say, the malort.

"Hallucinogens?" Stark asked, alarmed. "No. None of that. Licorice is fine but no."

"One non-hallucinogenic signature cocktail coming up then," Eliot said easily.

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.

Stark had spent too long pretending to be crazy and then slipping back into old habits and had a head already full of bits of people's souls to be comfortable with anything that might make him hallucinate.

"Thank you," he said again. "Alcohol is fine. Other things seem unwise, I think."

"But of course! I make it a point not to get anyone high who doesn't want to be," Eliot assured him. "I'll be right back."

"A good policy," Stark said. "Better for everyone than the alternative."

He would, most likely, not be pleasant company if he started hallucinating.

Not everyone was. Including Eliot, when he imbibed a bit too hard. Margo could tell you stories.

Eliot returned with the promised cocktail, a gently green concoction with a subtle, magical glow.

"Here you are. Guaranteed hallucinogen free."

Stark would probably just start screaming and not stop. Which would lead to unpleasant reactions from Faye, at the very least.

"It glows," he said, holding it up to admire the color. "Is that from you or from the drink?"

"From me, to the drink," Eliot said. "A simple little enchantment, but it does set a mood."

"I like the glowing," Stark said before taking a tentative sip. He did tend to enjoy things that glowed.

"And the rest," he added, waving to indicate to the sky and the tiny boats and the water and all of it. "It's lovely."

“Thank you. We thought our first party on the island ought to have a good atmosphere.”

"You're planning more parties then?" Stark asked.

Faye would be glad to hear that.

"It is a good atmosphere. The sky is beautiful. All magic?" No portals or holograms or anything like that involved?

“Of course! Margo and I love a good party.” Eliot nodded. “The sky is entirely illusion magic, yes. As are the little canals. The gondolas are real, some transmogrified glasses, and the fireflies are lightly enchanted.”

"Transmogrified?" Not, for some reason, a word Stark had ever learned.

"I don't," he admitted, "know much at all of how magic works. But this is all very impressive. I look forward to whatever comes next."

"Magically transform," Eliot translated. "And thank you. We had fun."

MASQUERADE PARTY, 33 Apocalypse Ave, Friday Evening

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi

Re: Arrive and Say Hi