[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

[playing_human]

[Dorian sits down at the indicated table and turns his full attention to Lestat, looking very interested indeed.]

[perfectdevil]

[ Don't look at him like that, Dorian, you have no idea what you're doing to him. Or maybe you do. Yeah, you probably do. ]

I have been alive since the 1760, and in that time I've been ravenous for the arts, even before becoming what I am and being able to truly appreciate it. You see, vampiric senses are so better attuned than a humans are; and this includes our hearing. I can hear every tensing of the strings on the keys of a Grand Piano, every shift of the wooden bridges connected to the soundboard. It becomes part of the song, part of the experience. I can feel intention and emotion in recorded music, too..

[ Lestat runs his tongue over his teeth as if he's self soothing, drawing himself back in. This isn't a vampirisim ad, after all, this is more.. a lesson? Not even that, but he feels Dorian might be able to parse something from this story more meaningful than any other human might. ]

But, the creative world dwindled with the approach of the Industrial Revolution, and the Great Depression to follow, all that war... Everything lost its spark, it's meaning. I fell into a darkness I could see no way out of, I'd lost everyone and everything I'd ever found solace in, and not even music or books could give me the escape I so desperately desired. The thrill of feeling alive was lost to me. I was walking around, but I was somewhere else inside. Numb.

... So I went to the ground. That is what we vampires do when we cannot bear to see another night, but the idea of death is still unbearable. I drove myself into the basement of my old house where once I had been so happy, and I slept for decades. Even I can't be certain how long. Fifty years, perhaps, at least?

The thing that woke me was rock music. I heard it as though in a dream, and it gave me the inspiration - no - the strength, to leave my grave and become the great vampire I once was.

[ He gives Dorian a long look. Oh yes, he thinks, it's easy to see that numbness in him so plainly in this light. ]

[playing_human]

[Oh. That's...that's a lot indeed. Sometimes, Dorian feels like he is asleep, and is only awakened by someone he can love. He'd tried to find the same thing in new passions, but it was never the same. Nothing was new. But this sound, to him, was new. Oh, it was hardly his first time hearing that form in music, verses and choruses, with little variation, but the sound itself was deeper, louder. This might actually be diverting to him, for a time.

For a time.]

I want to learn more. Perhaps an instrument?

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat's smile curls, seemingly self-satisfied, though he can feel his heartbeat starting to quicken with earnest delight; if this could be a solace for Dorian, even for a little, then perhaps it would be less tempting to let him see what a taste of the blood would allow. ]

The guitar, or the drums, perhaps... The electric guitar, for certain. Do you know, they even have programs on the electric keyboard now, where each key you press can sound like another instrument? A fascinating feature, though not quite as satisfying as playing the thing for real.

[ He studies Dorian's hands, dextrous and finely made, strong. ]

I could teach you. Though I've never had any formal training myself, I'm quite good. As you saw.

[playing_human]

I would like that. [Dorian considers, then nods slightly.] The electric guitar, of course, but I suspect the more instruments we cover, the more I will understand this new sound. Drums...percussion plays such a small role in music in the nineteenth century, I am having a failure of imagination. [A soft laugh.] The last time I heard it otherwise was...I'm not sure. The Renaissance, perhaps?

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat knew Dorian would be enthused, but what he says about the more instruments we cover has Lestat particularly excited, because he knows exactly what that means; Dorian intends to ingest every sound, every combination, every production with the same kind of avid ferocity that Lestat had himself. He wonders how that kind of hunger might look on Dorian, how fascination might lift the darkness in his mind if Lestat were to compare, even if only for a few moments. ]

Yes, drums were always a something I thought of in brass bands or marching parades, I know what you mean.

[ He says it through laughter, but he's also got the perfect idea in mind to show Dorian exactly how music has adapted itself through time. Into his pocket he reaches one hand for the little earpieces attached by wire to his cassette player. He pushes it across the table. ]

This is a cassette player, inside is a rock album stored on a cassette tape. Don't ask me how, I only know very vaguely how it works and we can discuss that later, but if you press the red button, and then this one marked play, music will sound through the earpieces. Like a phonograph, only portable and sounding the music straight into your head. A private concert.

The seventh track, Red Hot, is one I recommend if you'd like to see how drums can alter the feeling in your very soul.

[ His eyes flash, clearly excited to see Dorian's reaction. ] You can listen now or later, if you can resist. But I have to know what you think.

[playing_human]

[It might be amusing to see how Dorian treats this new technology, as if he has never seen it before--which he hasn't. He picks up the headphones, tests the flexibility of the band between them briefly, and places them over his ears in one fluid motion. His fingertips linger over the texture of the cassette player, feeling the edges of the buttons, before he goes through the motions Lestat recommended.

Immediately, the drums begin, and it's a matter of seconds before they could be mistaken for his own heartbeat. It's not entirely comfortable, and he visibly tenses up, but he keeps listening. His gaze wanders as if instinctively watching out for threats in an unfamiliar environment.

At the end of the song, he tears the headphones off, panting as if he'd been holding his breath. His hand reaches for his chest, and the motion actually makes it sink in how intense an experience this was. He glances up to meet Lestat's eyes for a moment before snatching up the headphones again and putting them back on.

The final song of the album is less intense, but that allows him to process both songs without feeling totally overwhelmed. Afterward, he takes off the headphones again and sets them down carefully.]

Do you know what it makes me think of? Primitive, tribal music, meant to induce a trance. There is no space for oneself in such music--or perhaps, there is space only for oneself, but nothing else.

[He still feels slightly out of breath, his eyes wide, lips parted, completely taken off-guard.]

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat finds more than a little familiarity in the way Dorian handles the small contraption; he himself had been much the same way when he stumbled upon it in the superstore, and must have seemed like an absolute madman with the endless questions he asked the attendant, before he purchased three players and a copy of every cassette they had in the store, and carried it all home under his arms.

He remembers the same kind of thrill too, the exhilarating rush of feeling, his body caught between fight or flight and settling for undeniable pleasure. The pace of the songs, too, seemed to blend Lestat's own heartbeat into them, until they became one, until he was swaying and jerking with every twang of the guitar and every smash from the drums.

He rests his chin on his palm, his elbow on the arm of his chair, and watches Dorian go in for his second round. When he's finished, Lestat smiles expectantly while looking entirely satisfied. Oh, how Lestat wishes he had more cassettes with him here. ]

A trance is right. It takes you away from everything, doesn't it? Like it speaks directly to your soul.

[ He's never seen so much emotion in Dorian's face and God, he's so desperate to dip into his mind and see if there is colour on that dreary landscape now. ]

[playing_human]

[Maybe not color, but for the first time in ages, he has a paintbrush in his hand.]

I often say the same of Wagner, but Wagner isn't so...primal. Wagner is cerebral, elevated, and dramatic, but not...living.

[Is that what's been missing? Dorian has reached for greater and greater heights of profundity, imagination, rarity, spirituality, enlightenment. What has he become in this long pursuit?

Beautiful and dead. A perfect, unchanging portrait of yourself.

His gaze falls on the cassette player again.]

How much of this music do you have?

[perfectdevil]

If there's one thing to be said about rock music, it's certainly alive. It's current and reactive, often full of rebellion and enough to make some with paler taste wince. It's electrifying. Enough to wake a vampire with no desire to be part of the world, at the very least.

[ He laughs a little at his own expense, reaching out to take the player and clicks the eject button in order to take the tape out and flip it to the other side, the start of the album. ]

Unfortunately, I only have this one I came here with. It just so happened to be the one I had in my pocket. Though in my own world there are thousands in my apartment, every band I could get a hold of, every experimental B-side, and every live recording available to me. I quickly found what I like, and I did my research quite thoroughly. If only I had a tape of my band's album, I could show you the result.

[ He closes the tape recorder, and slides it across the table. ]

You can borrow it, if you like. I don't mind.

[playing_human]

Thank you. [Spoiler alert: he's going to find out about blank tapes and copying. He takes the offered player and places it carefully in a deep pocket, unsure how delicate it is.] You will help me choose an instrument to learn, of course? I've seen shops with all sorts. We could have a look, together.

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat looks like a dog at the prospect of a walk when Dorian says that, getting to his feet and instinctively going to pull on his arm a little, before realising that it might be a little over-familiar all things considered, and settling for nudging his chair back instead, with the intention of leading him back over to the stage.

Once there, he gestures to the guitars on display; the electric, and the acoustic. ]

I would happily go shopping with you so we can find something for you to practice with, mon ami. But you're welcome to try either of the ones I brought with me in the mean time.

[playing_human]

[A playfully suspicious squint as he comes up beside him.]

Are you trying to trick me into making a fool of myself?

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat looks mock affronted at the suggestion, fingertips to his chest in a moi?? kind of way. ]

Trick you? What kind of devilishly handsome bastard would do something like that to you?

[ A little laugh, and Lestat pats him on the shoulder a couple of times to show he has no need to worry. ]

I won't make you play here, you need better acoustics to learn, but you can at least let me see you holding one to help my imagination. Though... [ A considering hum. ] Aesthetically, I still like the electric for you better.