citylogs | [open] a birthday celebration

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. :) ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, then it should come as no surprise that someone might take an interest in you. Clearly, some have before.

[ He looks around the room, observing the people and their interactions. ]

In a place like this, it can get lonely, being far removed from home. It's only natural for people to want a little comfort or companionship.

And you, Hob? Do you feel the same?

[ The same about.. which part? It's not about taking an interest in Dream, right? No, it's got to be the last thing he said. Hob tries to push down the warmth that threatens to rise from his neck to his face. ]

You're living in my house. How could I be lonely?

[ And he smiles fondly, since he does like having Dream there. ]

[ Dream's continued look at him probably doesn't help the rising flush. ]

Then is there no one here that draws your interest?

[ Must he always stare like that? Hob blinks several times, pushing the rising blush away with a lick of his lips and a nervous laugh. ]

Worried I'm going to start taking out personal ads?

[ Surely, Dream must have spotted that anonymous one on the network not long ago. ]

[ he might worry if he knew what a "personal ad" was, instead the staring turns into mild confusion again. he knows not these silly human things. ]

[ Hob can see the confusion but isn't sure he really wants to explain what a personal ad is. Maybe it's less funny than he thought. ]

Nevermind about that. It was just a joke.

[ He wouldn't take out a personal ad, anyway. ]

[ jokes do tend to lose their luster when you have to explain them, not that this eldritch being would know. but the confusion eases once Hob waves it off; if it's not important enough to explain, then it's not important. ]

Be that as it may, if you do find someone of interest, then it would be your business of which I would not interfere.

[ Hob smiles warmly at his friend. ]

You know... [ He lowers his voice and takes a step closer again. ] When I first realized I wouldn't age or die, I lived a couple hundred years without a care and took an interest in... well, just about anyone who would have me. [ He chuckles with embarrassment. ] Never serious. Just fun. I thought that's what living was all about.

But eventually, when I met someone who really meant something to me, I realized how much richer my life could be. By sharing it with someone else. I want that happiness for you, too. That feeling of fulfillment. Whatever form it takes.

[ If it involves another person, that's all well and good, but it doesn't have to. ]

[ he listens to Hob, staring at him earnestly as he steps closer to speak. but as he listens and as Hob continues one, his expression seems to close off a bit, growing more opaque. he glances away after Hob speaks, staring out into the party before he speaks in return. ]

I, too, had similar thoughts of sharing myself with another. I thought the same with each lover I have taken, and yet none of my ... relations have lasted longer than what might be considered a mortal span of time.

I guess that's not much for someone like you. For me, that's all I get.

[ His loves are always mortal, so eventually, it will end. The number of years could also be impacted by sudden death or disease, which has also happened before. ]

After losing Eleanor, I was so heartbroken, I wondered if it was even worth it. We were only together a few years before she died. But when I thought about our life together, I knew the pain of losing her didn't overshadow that. I'd do it all over again.

... That is an ... enlightened position. You have come far since 1689.

[ Hob laughs gently. ]

A few hundred years can teach a thing or two. Even if I'm not always a good student.

[ But he's a good teacher. Go figure. ]

[ speaking of that. ]

And now you teach others.

[ Hob smiles. ]

Amazing, isn't it? When we first met, I couldn't even read. I never imagined I'd make enough money to live decently, or learn a trade, or be educated.

I confess that I was gladdened to hear of your new trade upon our first appointed meeting.

[ Amused. ]

What? Soldiering and banditry not respectable?

[ He's joking, of course. ]

To some, perhaps, but the printing of books, the sharing of the stories and dreams within them has certainly earned my respect.

Makes sense. [ Given who and what he is. ] When I started in printing, I thought it would be a good, respectable way to make money. I didn't figure I'd end up enjoying books so much.

Have you ever thought to write one yourself one day?

Me?

[ He's a bit embarrassed at the thought. ]

What would I write about? Maybe my life, but it would get filed under fiction.

It could be of any subject.

It could.

[ Doesn't mean it would get published, of course. ]

But I find, the more society advances, the harder it is to remain a secret. It's better if I don't draw attention to myself or leave much behind.

To avoid any prying eyes and avoid capture.

[ he nods in agreement. ]

[ Hob smiles, looking a bit sly. ]

See? I do listen to you.

[ He remembers Dream's advice. ]

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hypnagothic - 2023-10-13 07:09 (UTC) - Expand