[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]

[ his eyes narrow again there, slowly, and some of the amusement fading off. ]

Happy for me.

[ said just a touch flatly. ]

[100more]

[ Hob's smile falters as well and he takes a polite step back. Sometimes, it's hard to figure how Dream will respond to his words. Things that might not mean much to a human always seem to touch him a little more harshly. ]

It's nice when someone takes an interest in you. Isn't it?

[hypnagothic]

[ he doesn't seem angry like he did that time in the 1800s, nothing like the offended huff he walked out in. whatever this is, it's a more solemn and serious mood, maybe with a touch of curious confusion. ]

That would depend on the type of interest taken.

[100more]

[ The seriousness that seems to hover over his friend is a little confusing. He asks cautiously. ]

What would be the unwelcome kind?

[hypnagothic]

A great many kinds, but I am more interested in what you were implying.

[100more]

[ Hob looks a little more agitated. ]

Judging by that message she sent you and how she seemed to enjoy your outing, I thought she might be.. attracted to you. You're handsome and mysterious. Women like that sort of thing.

[hypnagothic]

[ which just makes the confusion more apparent as he looks Hob over. ]

Such preferences are not limited by gender. Nor do they necessarily lead to attraction.

[100more]

[ Hob huffs softly. At least Dream isn't mad about the presumption. ]

That is true.

[ Maybe for himself, as well. It's hard not to notice the beautiful, mysterious type. Were Dream someone else and this were a few hundred years ago, Hob might have embarrassed himself already with some attempt at getting his attention. ]

[hypnagothic]

... Hob? You seem agitated.

[100more]

[ He shakes his head, then smiles. ]

No, for a second, I thought I upset you by presuming too much. I know it's not really any of my business.

[hypnagothic]

It is not, though I thank you for bringing light to what it appeared as to you.

[ he doesn't exactly look enthusiastic about it as he gazes back out over the party. ]

[100more]

[ He's always a tough man to read. Maybe because he's not actually a man. But he does feel things. ]

Sorry.

[ The word is soft, almost a sigh. He looks back to the party as well, brow lightly furrowed. Though he's not standing any closer, Hob reaches to gently touch the inside of Dream's elbow and leaves it there, unless the man shakes him off. Hob doesn't know that the gesture means anything, but he just felt the need to offer some kind of comfort. ]

[hypnagothic]

[ he doesn't shake him off nor does he seem offended by the touch. it does make him glance back to Hob though, quietly observing him from the corner of his eye before speaking up again. ]

You need not apologize. I confess that I am somewhat grateful you broached the subject.

[100more]

[ Hob is glad that Dream doesn't seem to be upset, but grateful? That's a surprise. He turns his attention back to Dream. ]

Really? Why?

[hypnagothic]

So that I may be more aware of ... intentions.

[100more]

[ Hob looks amused now. ]

Maybe I'm wrong. I think Vanessa is happy so long as you're friends. But did you think no one would have any intentions toward you?

[hypnagothic]

It does not often happen.

[100more]

[ Hob can guess why it doesn't often happen, but he's not going to spell it out. ]

What about you? Don't you ever take an interest in someone?

[hypnagothic]

[ there's a significant pause before he answers. ]

... Not for some while.

[100more]

[ Hob doesn't know what it's like, dating as an Endless, but he can't imagine it's easy. ]

What was the last one like?

[ He wonders if Dream has a 'type'. ]

[hypnagothic]

She became my wife, until she was no longer.

[ he says it as seriously as anything else he says, though it's also said lightly. a fact to be recited. ]

[100more]

[ Hob can't help the sympathetic look. Not that he knows all the details, but he was also married, once. ]

What happened?

[ He hopes Dream won't mind him asking, but if he does, he knows Dream will only say what he wants to say about it. ]

[hypnagothic]

[ another pause before he answers, but his tone remains light when he does speak again. ]

I told you of my son before. Of his recklessness. She blamed me for what had happened to him, and we came to an ... impasse. We separated then and remain so.

[100more]

[ Losing a child is hard. He understands how that can tear a couple apart, even if he didn't experience it that way. ]

I'm sorry. It must've been difficult. And... you haven't taken an interest in anyone since then? That must have been some time ago, right?

[ At least, Hob never go the sense that Dream was attached all the years they've known each other. ]

[hypnagothic]

Indeed so. A few thousand years, before the birth of your Christ.