[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

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat watches her face contort and seem to crumble on itself, and that brief moment of tenderness he'd shared with her while she'd given in to the come down of the swoon comes back to him like the memory of a dream; he can remember not wanting any harm to come to her in a great rush of feeling from the blood, but as he looks at her now and watches her struggle to process how this shared reverie has made her feel, he can feel the lingering threads of it again.

So he reaches out and brushes a thumb over her cheek like he had done that night, just the briefest contact and then gone. ]

I won't think on it another moment if that's what you want.

[ His tone is as serious as his posture -- well, as serious as a man dressed in velvet and chains and leather can get, but it's the thought that counts. ]

Or... Well, I won't claim to have any particular talent with being comforting, I'm sure Louis can attest to that much, but I am a wonderful listener if nothing else. Or I can forget I ever saw you, and we can pretend to be strangers at this little soirée, and I can hassle you into dancing with me after you tell me your name. Helpfully, I still don't know it, so I won't even have to pretend to be surprised.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ She starts at the touch, lifting a hand as if to catch his, but he's already pulled back. ]

I don't really dance.

[ She doesn't know what she wants -- what she wanted, coming here, starting this conversation. Was it an apology? Too bloody bad, then, she's not asking for one. ]

I don't care what you think about it. [ Her voice is low, almost back under control. ] I just want it to stay between us. Shouldn't've ever gotten out of my head, but -- no, shit. Do what you like, mate, you don't owe me anything.

[perfectdevil]

[ He watches her again, trying to map out how her soul might speak to him were he to take a look at her mind now, but willing himself to rely more purely on this alone. She must have picked up his presence somehow to know what he's capable of, or perhaps she'd been playing the fool the whole time, but Lestat feels a strange reluctance to overstep that particular mark right now. That hand she'd raised as if to take his - had it been to push him away, to stop him, or to keep him there? She doesn't need an explanation, but he offers one anyway: ]

I don't have control over what I see in that moment, just as I don't have control over how I share in the thoughts and emotions you were feeling at the time.

[ In other words, Lestat could be entirely honest if he were to tell her that he knows how she feels, even if he isn't equipped with detail or memory like she is. All he has is a feeling. Perhaps its his vampiric nature that makes him reluctant to let the feeling go, to be tempted to bask in it and let it wash over him, or perhaps it's the same influence from the human part of him that makes him so desperate to comfort her.

With his impressive height and his back to her like this, in their secluded little end of the veranda, it's pretty easy for him to swiftly pull her forwards by the shoulders, till she's pressed against him in what can only be described as a surprisingly warm hug. Y'know, for a dead guy. He won't hold her too tight or for too long though, in case she'd rather pull away. He won't be offended. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Unfortunately -- for both of them, perhaps -- Johanna's working too hard at getting her feelings about Ravenscar back in their box to be receptive to the comfort. She stiffens, her cheek pressed against his chains for a moment before she pushes away.

Chilly: ] Do you have control over asking permission before you go swimming in people's brains?

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat is pushed away and he goes easily, reforming into his casual rock star pose like a stretchy toy pulling back into place. He doesn't let any emotion show on his face besides a simple earnestness, but his eyes look a little brighter, some of the sparkle in them strangely more pronounced as he looks at her. ]

I wasn't under the impression we'd meet again to have the chance to discuss it, chérie.

[ He taps a finger against the wall he leans on. ]

Or that I'd want to.

Usually I only see the beautifully mundane in the blood, something and nothing, fleeting mortal life... Not something so harrowing, nothing that might move me that way. I didn't realise I'd need to warn you, and assumed that if I had, you might not be interested. It was selfish of me, but I am a selfish creature at heart.

[ It won't surprise him if she doesn't forgive him, so he won't apologise with words. At least then they can both leave with their pride. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Those bright silver eyes, uncanny and hard for her to read. What's she supposed to take from that shine? Sympathy or blood thirst? The earnest interest of another person or the lofty curiosity of an immortal? ]

Warn me? Sure. That would've been polite. And then I could've warned you.

[ She's moving the goalposts. That's her own selfishness, wanting to hang onto a grudge in the face of an explanation. But it makes her feel better, more like she's in control of the argument, on the stable ground of "righteous indignation" instead of "triggered." ]

Word to wise, mate, since apparently you haven't picked it up from the scene yourself: you shouldn't just snort whatever a stranger gives you at a party. You don't know what kind of shit's in there.

[perfectdevil]

[ How he wishes he'd just lied from the off, told her vague untruth or span some half truth at her, then perhaps he'd still be able to goad her into dancing with him instead of standing here and making sure that she feels indignant and correct in her decision to shout in his face.

Just to be sure it's cemented, he laughs through a sneer, suddenly a cold and domineering man rather than the whimsical dandy he'd been before. The shine of emotion in his eyes is completely gone, reigned in to a flat, dull silver. ]

That's the point, cherie. I don't care what's in there, I want it all. I'm a vampire, not some street junkie who can keel over from too much fun. Nothing is too much for me. The only thing that stops me is your heart no longer beating. Do you understand?

[ Anger is a much better look on her face than shock and embarrassment; oh yes, hate him all you like for his lack of manners and his selfish way, but don't be afraid of what he can do, don't let him make you miserable.]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ It works like a charm. Her pulse jumps with adrenaline when his expression changes, when that hint of empathy disappears into a reminder that he's not fully human. Nevertheless, she lifts her chin, a gesture more of disdain than vulnerability. ]

Perfectly.

[ A thin smile, still holding his gaze. ]

Delighted I could give you something to get off on, then.

[ She straightens up and moves to brush past him. Nothing much else to say, is there? Except, maybe: ]

Great party.

[ And then head for the door, hoping she doesn't spot Louis on the way out. Happy birthday, mate, she had a fight with your boyfriend. Ah, well, if Lestat is everything he appears to be, she's sure he'll have his party face back on in on time. ]