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citylogs2023-10-04 06:38 pm
perfectdevil) wrote in citylogs2023-10-04 06:38 pm
[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: ]
Come on down, don’t be shy. Have a little dance with the devil. ]
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. ]
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. ]
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. :) ]
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.[ 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.
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
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.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! ]
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!
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. :) ]
no subject
We did run into each other in the mall. [ Bringing up the mall makes her mouth twist a little in distaste. ] Sort of has a way of making you feel like you know someone a lot better.
no subject
[ Hob still can't imagine why. ]
no subject
[ Obviously they didn't run into each other, but she's pretty sure the geometry of the place was shifting. The whole population of the City could have been in there being chased by their own ghosts, and never run into each other. ]
no subject
[ Mantis had quite a frightening incident, so Hob considers himself lucky. ]
Hopefully it wasn't so bad for you. Did you get something from the bank?
no subject
No, nothing from the bank. Did you?
no subject
An old portrait. One I haven't seen for many years. It shouldn't exist, and yet, it was there.
no subject
Who of? Family, or--?
[ It occurs to her, a moment too late, that family might be a complex subject for someone six hundred years old. But the question's out there, and she's too curious to soften the potential rudeness of it. ]
no subject
Family. Gone a long time.
no subject
[ "Sorry for your loss" has always struck Johanna as an inane thing to say at the best of times, and it feels particularly stupid to say to Hob. She does feel a certain -- regret, though? Sympathy? Nothing you could articulate on a condolences card, though. ]
Good memories?
no subject
Yes. But how could the ones running this place know about them?
no subject
Have you ever had your fortune told? Or your tarot read, anything like that?
no subject
Sure. What has that got to do with it?
no subject
[ Are they at a table? Let's say yes. Johanna leans forward, elbows on the table, warming to the topic. ]
Most of the psychics who tell your fortune are conning you. May or may not be doing it on purpose, mind, but either way they're not tapping into a cosmic whatever. They're picking up what you want to hear based on your reactions and they're feeding 'em back to you.
[ She reaches out to take Hob by the wrist, if he'll let her, and turns his palm up as if she's going to do a reading. ]
You came in with bags under your eyes and you keep fidgeting with your wedding ring? Mate, the second you ask me what your future holds, I'll tell you that you need to take a long look at your relationships and figure out if it's serving you or are you serving them, and when you get all teary-eyed because you know in your heart of hearts that the thing's gone sour, I'll say, "They're waiting for you, you know, if you're brave enough to reach out to them."
[ She releases his hand and sits back again. ] And you do all the work for me. I say "they" and you know who "they" are. I don't have to know anything. You paint the picture yourself.
no subject
But I'm not wearing a wedding ring. And the portrait they gave me has been gone a long time.
[ Nothing from back then remains in good condition long. That picture is only in his memories. ]
no subject
I think this place reflects things back to us. The stuff we fear, or miss, or feel guilty about. It doesn't have to know about your family: you do.
no subject
[ That sounds impossible but, that would explain some things. ]
no subject
Something like that. At any rate, I think we're giving some of these things their shape.
no subject
Have you ever known of anything that can do that? Some creature or spell or something?
no subject
[ It seems like a safe bet that the Lord of Dreams is on speaking terms with courts both Seelie and Unseelie. ]
If you're asking if I know how the City's doing it, or how to prevent it, then no. Wish to fuck I did.
no subject
You're probably right. I just can't imagine what might keep someone like him here.
no subject
Well, you know, he--
[ Wait. Does Hob know? Has he not told Hob?
Oh. Oh, well, shit. ]
Mm. No. It'd take pretty strange circumstances.
no subject
[ Hob caught that and now he looks very suspiciously at Johanna. Again, she seems to know about Dream than he does. ]
no subject
You're not going to believe me, but I don't think it's my business to say. You want another drink?
[ Morpheus wouldn't have told her he had anything to do with Roderick Burgess if he didn't have to, she's sure. It's his bad luck to have run into someone who knew her Western esoteric history well enough to put the pieces together.
But -- she's just some nosy magician who happened to cross paths with an Endless. Hob is something else, in himself and in his relationship with Dream. That seems obvious enough to her. Why not tell him?
The same reason that only two people here know anything about Newcastle. That only one person knew even the slightest bit about what came after.
She hauls herself to her feet and toasts him with her empty glass. ] I'm getting another drink.
no subject
[ Of course he would. Not because he thinks she's entirely trustworthy, but he doesn't think she would tell a lie about Dream.
But then she's going to get herself a drink, and Hob figures it's best to let her go. He wouldn't share things about Dream with her, either. At least she knew what to ask. Hob is left clueless. ]