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

From:

existencemisspent

". . . Right. Do let me enchant that look just a little, darling, you're dreadfully underdressed."

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"I'm fully dressed!" Jon protested. "Maybe not...not fancy, but I am in a suit."

From:

existencemisspent

"Is that what we're calling suits these days?" Eliot. Don't be mean. "Come on. I'm sure we can fix you right up."

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"It, um. The island gave it to me," Jon said. "That one weekend, with the, the cars and everything? But yes, all right." He straightened and probably looked like he was marching to his doom (hey, he knew how to do that), but stood waiting.

From:

existencemisspent

"The island has terrible taste," Eliot informed him. "But don't worry, I'm just going to. . . ." He started through a complicated series of hand gestures, straightening the collar a smidge, deepening the color, adjusting those dreadfully outdated lapels, and with a final flourish, adjusting the cut to fill Jon our a touch and make him look a little less heroin chic.

". . . There. I'm sure there's a mirror around here somewhere if you'd care to take a look. It'll only last until morning, but I can work something more permanent later if you decide you like it."

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

Well, it had been created in a fifteen-year-old style, not that Jon could tell the difference.

"Oh. Um." Jon looked down at himself, not entirely sure what was different. It looked...better, but he couldn't have said exactly what the changes were. "Thank you." He wasn't sure he needed a mirror immediately, but he'd probably find one later. And Eliot's changes were much more subtle than Margo's glitter.

He looked himself over a moment longer, then shrugged and held his arms out again, more for inspection this time. "Am I acceptable now?"

From:

existencemisspent

“You’re. . . closer,” Eliot said. “You still need a mask.”

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"Right. A mask. Oh!" Jon fumbled briefly with the polaroid he'd brought with him. "And, um. A picture if you don't mind."

From:

existencemisspent

“How painfully retro,” Eliot said, then struck a simple, dignified pose, his hands clasped behind his back. “If you must.”

He was actually very pleased to be asked for a photo.

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

Jon took the picture, smiling a little at Eliot's pose. "I, um. Prefer non-digital. Thank you."

From:

existencemisspent

“Of course,” Eliot said. “But if that somehow gets used for nefarious purposes, I will have to curse you.”

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"Oh, no!" Jon hurried to assure him. "No, no nefarious purposes. Just...um." He sighed. "Fear entity. Not mine!" he scrambled to add, then grimaced. "For protection, not...not feeding."

He stopped and took a deep breath, aware he was doing this badly. "There's a...a thing that replaces people. Replaces their memories, too." Another deep breath. "But it can't change non-digital images. This is for...reference, I suppose. Just in case."

...was that non-creepy enough?

From:

existencemisspent

“Jesus,” Eliot said. “How many of these fear-beasts are there?”

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"Erm, all kinds of...of monsters and influenced people and cursed things. The actual Fears, they're usually sort of organised into fourteen. Though they really are interconnected, not completely independent of each other. Like...it was explained to me as like colours. Distinct, but not...not separate, if that makes sense."

From:

existencemisspent

“It does, actually.” Of course Eliot knew color theory. In another life he’d be a full blown artiste. “So you’ve got your Eye. Which one are the photos for, again?”

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"The Stranger," Jon answered. "The unknown and uncanny. Clowns and masks and...and mannequins." Jon swallowed and shook his head. "There's a creature called the NotThem. It...it eats someone, and it takes their life. Doesn't look or, or sound like them, but...they make you believe it's them. All your memories, all everything is them now instead of the original. Except...except one person, who remembers. And analog things, like," he held up the photograph, "like polaroids, or...or cassette tapes."

From:

existencemisspent

“So . . . one random person gets to run around yelling ‘oh my god that’s not really Margo’ and sounding insane? Jesus.”

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"Exactly," Jon agreed. He rubbed his face. "God, Melanie...she...she didn't even know Sasha, really. She just thought we were...I was...gaslighting her or something, and I thought she was...was losing it."

He sighed. "So I just thought, anyway...Probably it won't happen here, but...but there's no telling, so just in case, it couldn't hurt, could it?" He waved the picture vaguely.

From:

existencemisspent

“I guess not,” Eliot agreed. “You do know there are many other ways to have someone not be themselves that don’t involve magic poloroids though, right?”

Oh shit, and now he was thinking about Mike.

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

Jon managed a barely-there laugh. "So many," he agreed quietly. Was he even really Jonathan Sims these days? "But at least this is something I can do."

From:

existencemisspent

“Well. Congratulations on that, then. I think we need drinks.”

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"I would definitely not say no," Jon agreed.

From:

existencemisspent

"Good lad. What's your poison? Did I ask you that already?"

Look, after awhile he lost track.

From:

intheeyeofthebeholding

"I don't think so," Jon said. "But, um. I'm not really too fussy? I like fruity things a bit."

From:

existencemisspent

"Fruity things." Eliot nodded. "I've got just the thing." He led the way over to the bar and started mixing up at Mati.

If anyone needed a bit of luck magic and a symbolic barrier to the evil eye, it was Jon.