[open] a birthday celebration

[perfectdevil]

WHO: lestat & all of you~
WHAT: lestat is hosting a party for a certain someone's birthday!
WHERE: a bistro in district 3
WHEN: october 4th
WARNINGS: N/A so far. will update as needed!



[ In the early morning hours of the 4th of October, a photograph of a handwritten notice goes up on the network. It’s in flowery but surprisingly legible script, as if he’s learnt to create letters purely by reading them and has jumbled together an amalgamation of different typefaces to make each letter he writes as interesting as possible. The details are as follows: ]

This is an invitation to any and all, to attend a soirée this evening, in celebration of my companion’s birthday.

I’ve attached a photograph of the location; a fashionable little bistro highly recommended to me by someone who clearly knows a thing or two about style. Festivities start at 6 o’clock this evening, though you are more than welcome to be fashionably late. We will go until sunrise. The dress code is: eye-catching.

There will be food, there will be wine, there will be merriment. Games, dancing, live music. Who amongst you could turn their nose up at a free bar and the chance to boogie? I know that technically this entire place is a free bar, what with the distinct lack of economy, but I’ve acquired the assistance of a bartender, just to tempt you…

And, failing all else, there’s the certainty of stunning conversation - and isn’t that something that we all can enjoy, even those of us who don’t groove with the party scene?

Be there, or be square.


xoxo

[ Some of you might remember him posting asking for help planning this little get together, and it’s going ahead with all of Lestat’s best intentions for a night to remember. Whether you know him or don’t (and haven’t been put off by his hip use of old slang he still thinks makes him sound cool) you’ll be welcomed to the festivities with open arms and a warm, sharp smile.

Come on down, don’t be shy. Have a little dance with the devil. ]

The Bar

[ Gleaming in hard wood painted a stunning chic black, the bar is the first thing to delight your eyes with upon entering the bistro. Bottles line the back wall, shining in the low amber lights, and so too the bottles lined up in front as your gracious bartender for the evening, Daan, sets up shop. Perhaps you have a drink in mind, or would like him to surprise you (with varying results), or maybe you’re here for the crowd gathered around and chatting amicably as they nurse their chosen poison.

Lestat himself has taken up prime position there, often with a rather steadfast arm around Louis, whose expression isn’t exactly dour but isn’t particularly placid, either. He gives off the very clear expression of someone who’s been tricked into coming here under false pretences. Probably because Lestat had been positively evasive of even mentioning the B word (birthday) all evening, even going as far as to ignore completely any mention of Louis discovering his plotting before tonight… though whether that be from embarrassment over failing to make his post private despite Armand’s very clear instructions, or simply down to his impish nature, isn’t clear.

What is clear, is that Lestat is having a lovely time in wonderful company, and is a veritable font of energy. He’s usually pretty upbeat, of course, but tonight there’s a particular vigour about him that is clearly different, though not in a strictly bad way. When he’s not hanging off Louis’ side or parading him around to introduce him to people he hasn't met yet, Lestat is leaning over the bar to watch Daan work, or perhaps butting into a nearby conversation or starting a fresh one up with someone looking a little too quiet. ]

The Stage & Dancefloor

[ Great care and attention has been made to stagger the assortment of tables in the room so that each one has a perfect view of the man-made stage and its attached square of space serving as a dance floor. It’s nothing more than a few flat platforms on which the players can stand along with a wall of lined up instruments and some speakers Lestat found at the music store in the mall, but it’s unmistakably the intended highlight of the evening's entertainment.

A dark blue electric guitar beside an acoustic one, a simple spruce violin, a small drum set, a standing keyboard and three microphones is his haul, and they are left available for anyone who'd like to jam. If Lestat sees you looking with the barest hint of interest, even if there is not a single musical bone in your body, if he will pull you over to try something out - what better way to learn than in a room full of people watching you? :)

Toward the middle of the evening, Lestat will take Louis' hands in his own and kiss them, and then kiss him, and leave to climb up onto the stage himself. He’s dressed in a burgundy corduroy jacket over a crisp black shirt; the collar undone to reveal a host of twisted chains at his throat, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his wrists and fingers adorned with similar finery. Tight leather pants, and black boots with a red sole. His nails are painted black, and there’s a smudge of dark red around his eyes, which makes the pale silver-blue of them look almost eerie in the spotlight. (Well, he did say eye-catching was the dress code.)

He’ll take the microphone, lift the electric guitar into his arms and begins to play, and to sing. It’s a cover arrangement, of course, as anyone who enjoys 70s rock music will be able to tell.. but he sings it well, with a practised and enchanting stage presence that is hard to look away from; snaking hips, spectacular crowd work. No, it’s not his vampiric thrall (probably), it’s just that Lestat really was born to perform and he knows it.

He also picks out another song to play a little later on, assuring the crowd very loudly that they must keep this song's existence a complete secret and then "accidentally" name-dropping Steve Tyler as the guy he was jamming with when the song was created. ]

Party Games

[ Lestat has assigned a little space toward the back of the room and has littered the tables with a handful of silly party games, packages of cards, even a small set of plastic chips for gambling (though what exactly the ante will be is entirely up to you). It looks very much like he’s raided the toy aisle in a supermarket which… isn’t untrue, but he’s done so with at least a little care and attention for what kind of party he’d like this to be. There’s no board games, put it that way.

Who Am I?: Take a sticky-note and ask someone to write the name of a famous figure on it, and stick it on your back. You must walk around and ask the other patrons of the party yes/no questions in order to figure out who you are.
Treasure Hunt: Take a paper from the table; on it you'll find a series of descriptions such as "Someone who's favourite colour is blue" or "Someone who has siblings", "someone who's broken someone's heart" etc. Talk to party goers until you find a person who matches each prompt. You may only use one person once. The winner gets a prize!

Bulla has graciously offered to host a round or two of games for all in attendance; the assortment will be varied and both she and Lestat will be no doubt open to any suggestions of things to play. If you aren’t the type to get involved in such things, it’s quite unfortunate because oh, it looks like this one needs a partner and here is Lestat without one! ]

The Veranda

[The way outside through the large glass doors at the back of the bistro is lit in an almost storybook manner, with lights pinned from the doorway to the exterior fence in loose criss-crosses. The furniture has been moved to accommodate a large table running down the centre of the floor, full to bursting with plates of food. It seems the intention here is similar to a “pot-luck” - a concept that has Lestat gleeful as a child over the absurdity of such a thing - only as this place has no real necessity for cooking and as Lestat has no idea what kind of food typically is seen at parties, the guidance is simply to go into the kitchen and take advantage of its seemingly unending capabilities in order to emerge with a bowl, plate or tray of whatever you deem appropriate for a party such as this.

Obviously, this has resulted in the table being full of an incredibly disorganised array of treats in all shapes and colour - which naturally has attracted Lesat into staring at it all like a magpie, asking questions of every meal that people pick at, questioning the flavour and the method of preparation, all the while twisting a glass bottle of some thick scarlet substance around and around in his hands. ]

--
[ happy birthday louis!!! feel free to mingle, thread-hop, eavesdrop, do whatever you'd like. go wild. it's a party!

lestat is down for anything, so if you want to assume your character has made a playlist, brought a game along, has suggested a party game and is bullying people into playing it, or even if you want to assume that lestat saw you in the street nearby and whisked you in to the bistro against your will, please go for it. literally anything goes, i am SO easy and so is lestat. :) ]

Comments

[hypnagothic]

Yes.

[ unhelpful, but perhaps with the lightest of smirks at her. he gives more a moment later. ]

Often when I am host.

[keepgodwaiting]

Well, that is the job of a host. Who do you throw parties for?

[hypnagothic]

I try not to, whenever possible. When it is unavoidable, I host many beings you would consider gods and goddesses.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ She pulls a "yikes" grimace. ]

Fair enough, mate, I'd try to avoid it if I had to host deities too. You hear stories.

[hypnagothic]

Stories, is it? Of what sort?

[keepgodwaiting]

You know, Eris and the golden apple. Thor murdering a wedding party. Or do they usually behave themselves better than that?

[hypnagothic]

Thor? No. Most of the stories of him are in truth.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Another "yikes" expression. She wonders vaguely if she should ask Loki about them, see what didn't make it into the Eddas. ]

What about the rest of the divine crowd?

[ She's genuinely curious. ] I don't invoke many of 'em myself, so we haven't really talked.

[hypnagothic]

Of those you are most likely familiar with from your world or have direct connection with your world, the stories are largely true. Some details are lost to time and telling, and some truths are then created by the telling.

[keepgodwaiting]

So it is circular. [ She gestures, one finger describing a circle in the air. ] They make us in their images, and we return the favor.

Does it work like that for you and your family, too?

[hypnagothic]

[ he tilts his head a bit to the side, as if considering her question and his answer. ]

Somewhat. We appear as whatever and however a mortal may perceive us, if they perceive us at all if we do not decide for them.

[keepgodwaiting]

A few "ifs," there.

But I mean, if we tell stories about you, does it change you? Not just the perception. Or are you outside of that, because ... [ A shrug. ] You're Endless.

[hypnagothic]

Somewhat.

[ another light smile. ]

My family and myself each have different aspects of ourselves, but they are still ourselves. The Endless do not change and yet there are those who say that I am different from what I once was. Whether that be from the passing of time or tales is anyone's guess.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna considers this, considers him, for a long moment. ]

I can't imagine you different.

[ It could be snarky; it isn't. Just a thoughtful observation. From the moment he blocked her path outside and she had the feeling she'd met him before, to now, he seems like -- fully what he is, and has been, and will be.

Then she shrugs. ] 'Course, all things considered, I don't know you that well, I suppose.

[hypnagothic]

And we have not known each other overly long. Though I will say that you are remarkably similar to your ancestor.

[keepgodwaiting]

Yeah, Hob said the same thing. He called her "scary and attractive."

[ Sadly neither he nor Dream's previous incarnation mentioned that she pulled a knife on Hob, or whether that contributed to Hob's assessment of Lady Constantine. ]

[hypnagothic]

[ he gives the barest huff of amusement. ]

No doubt he would, considering her actions that day they met.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna gives him a look somewhere between suspicion and confusion. ]

Meaning what?

[ She remembers that her ancestor wanted the secret to immortality. What would that woman have thought of the opportunity offered by all the vampires around here, Johanna wonders. ]

[hypnagothic]

Meaning that she expected our cooperation and threatened us with harm brought about by others she had brought with her to our meeting should we have disagreed. Though she herself was not defenseless, either.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna scoffs, taking a drink. ]

Oh, for fuck's sake. And she knew you were immortal? Terrible gamble.

[hypnagothic]

She suspected so, but she apparently thought it worth the risk to confront us without a confirmation.

[keepgodwaiting]

Rookie move, going in without all your information. Or a few good backup plans.

[hypnagothic]

She had confidence that she could defend herself. Had it only been against Hob, perhaps she could have.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Perhaps she could have? Johanna pauses, eyeing Morpheus, considering the implications of that and the implications of a follow-up question. ]

Do I want to know what you mean by that?

[hypnagothic]

[ he gives her a curious look, like "you didn't know?" ]

After Hob had dealt with the brawlers she had brought, she turned a knife to him. That is when I intervened.