citylogs | [open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

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[open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

WHO: Anyone attending the Sunlight at Midnight gala!
WHAT: KISS PEOPLE AND DANCE IDK
WHERE: The freshly-renovated Planetarium in District 4!
WHEN: Saturday, December 2
WARNINGS: None for the log itself; please warn responsibly in individual top-levels!

THE VENUE

Upon entry to the newly-renovated venue space that was once a planetarium, guests will quickly notice that the space has been transformed into a three-layered affair, ranging from the very well-lit upper level down to the more romantic ambiance of the dance floor and performance space, with a comfortable tier of seating and standing tables in the middle.

Not intended by Ghost (

badfeyth) and Kaveh (

fussiest), yet still mysteriously appearing at random places throughout the venue, are sprigs of magical kissing mistletoe!

The mistletoe will cause characters to at least pause underneath it, and will give them a mild compulsion to kiss whoever they're with, but the compulsion will not be unavoidable and characters can easily break free of the "hold" the mistletoe has on them. Even so, partygoers will quickly learn to be mindful of what's overhead — or not!

UPPER TIER

On the well-lit upper tier, guests will find plenty of generalized mingle room, including two patios with casual seating on either side of the space. Throughout the center are a variety of stations and attractions, as well as some helpful resources for the discerning partygoer.

For the fashionably un-forward, you may wish to visit (or find yourselves forcibly dragged into) Lestat's on-site fashion consulting lair, which boasts a small and curtained-off space where partygoers in need can receive last-minute fashion advice, do wardrobe finishing touches, and address any other aesthetic concerns under the discerning eye of LESTAT DE LIONCOURT (perfectdevil). This is also where a selection of basic cosmetics and beauty supplies can be found, in case of a need for an emergency touch-up, safety pin, or spot removal!

Continuing onward, guests will find four individual food stations, each with their own set of color-coded disposable dishware! Perhaps they'd like to take a sampling of:

• STATION #1 — TSURUNO (fanstheflames): Fried rice in the shape of Christmas trees, dumplings with carrot reindeer antlers and red pepper noses, and fortune cookies that tell you to go dance with somebody already!
• STATION #2 — ROLAND (gradenine): Hotpot with mild and spicy soup bases plus a variety of vegetables and meats, and KBBQ with chicken, pork, and beef cuts, plus sides!
• STATION #3 — RENO (astraphilia): Whipped goat cheese figs, brie and prosciutto stuffed dates, and sprouting cauliflower with brown butter and lemon — paired with a couple of simple cocktails (a negroni and a Bombay mule)!
• STATION #4 — WANDERER (featheradrift): Samosas, panipuri, Japanese-style sandwiches, and a lot of sweets and desserts like chocolate truffles, pâte de fruit, candied nuts, madeleines, and custards!

Champagne (alcoholic and non-alcoholic) is also circulating around the venue under the watchful eye of KANEKI (anthropophagite), and a small selection of coffee is available at a nearby station as well!

Finally, at the far end of the upper concourse, one can find a partitioned-off space for photo opportunities featuring a black-and-gold backdrop, an arch aglow with fairy lights, and a few idle props like chairs and small movable tables that partygoers can use to coordinate their souvenir photos. PROMPTO (burstmodes) will be around to do formal event photography, but there'll also be a Polaroid available so that people can take their own photos and develop them instantly!

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

MIDDLE TIER

On the mid-tier halfway down the stairs that flank the venue on either side, partygoers will find a landing with an assortment of standing tables covered in black tablecloths and tied with gold bows, where guests can enjoy their refreshments, engage in conversation, and people-watch the goings-on taking place below them on the dance floor! To prevent any mischief or accidental spilling of food onto hapless dancers below, each landing is lined with a courtesy railing, and immediately below the railing is an arrangement of tasteful decor.

Between the two landings, guests can find the remnants of the planetarium seating — fold-down auditorium chairs with comfortable cushions arranged in gently circular rows, giving the people relaxing there a perfect view of the dance floor and the spectacle of lights taking place below it.

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

LOWER TIER

The lowest level of the venue, at the very bottom of the stairs, is the most dimly-lit of the three levels and is mostly comprised of the dance floor. Along the back wall and parts of the sides runs a slightly-raised platform stage upon which are arranged a piano, an electric guitar, a stereo system, and a few microphones for the convenience of any vocalists in the house. The stage is wide enough for one or two people to walk around comfortably, but generally is fairly modest to leave the majority of the room for the dance floor.

It's on the dance floor that the real "sunlight at midnight" theme takes its shape, as this is where the bulk of Kaveh's artificial lighting technology has been put into play. Along with standard party enhancements like a few spotlights and an overhead disco ball, the perimeter is also dotted with round arrays of stained glass with light fixtures behind them, causing panels of colored light to cast onto the hardwood of the dance floor. These arrays can also be rotated like kaleidoscopes, allowing for the patterns of light to change throughout the course of the evening — adding an element of renewable interest in the continuing aesthetic.

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

ENTERTAINMENT

Throughout the course of the evening, music will be provided by a rotating set list of performers, interspersed with prearranged playlists courtesy of the new media store. Entertainers will be informed of their set lengths, obligations, and timeslots well in advance of the venue by Ghost, and any necessary instruments or microphone hookups will be ready and available at the time of the performance.

Performers on deck include:

• HYTHLODAEUS (nomoresharks) and EMET-SELCH (recreator): Jazz piano bops along with some ragtime arrangements.
• EDDIE (thefreak): A mix of slow rock ballads and hard rock dance numbers, on electric guitar!

In addition to the live performances, the venue will also be treated to some traditional mid-2000s party favorites such as:

• BLORBOLICIOUS, by Gurgi (feat. Bill.i.was)
• HIPS SOMETIMES LIE, by The Kira
• SANDSQUALL, by DaNice
• MAYBE GONNA GIVE YOU UP, by Rickard Dastley
• MAMBO NO. 4 AND A HALF, by Stu Vega
• THE CHA-CHA HUSTLE, by DJ FriendlyGhost
• VIRUS, by Boo Boo Dolls

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

LIVEBLOG

Looking to add some network spam to your gala experience? Check out our dedicated IC NETWORK POST!

credit.

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[... Where the faeries win.............. ha.]

... Yeah! Something like that! [No. Not at all.]

There are still humans back home, but the majority of people are faeries.

It's a little dose of much-needed assurance, and Peter seems to exhale a bit of tension outwards, giving a nod. Looking back on the experience, he can definitely see how wigged-out he was, and it can't have made things easy for her... But next time, for sure. He'll keep it together.

He's quiet as he listens, thinking on it. That... makes sense, actually. It reminds him of the necklaces his mom and grandma wore, the gold ones with the weird little... symbol on them. (He has no idea that it was in fact King Paimon's sigil...) It was always just some kind of family jewelry that had been around since he was born, he didn't question it.

"I'd be okay with anything like that, yeah. A cross or something would be cool." That would probably be the most familiar shape, even if it never had much value to him otherwise. But now? He's willing to try anything she has to offer him.

"I'll have a look around, see what I can find to use as a focus. Mind you, it might not be a full fix. But it'd be something to be getting on with."

A cross, maybe, okay. Though the City is pretty sparse on religious iconography. A magic square? That's got possibilities.

Constantin realizes after a moment that she's about to go down a mental rabbit hole of trying to remember her Abramelin, and pulls herself back to the present.

"Er, how're you feeling right now?"

[ The sound of that name said in such a way might turn a man less confident toward doubt and insecurity, but Lestat seems to bristle with pleasure in response, like some great, proud bird ruffling its feathers. He doesn’t think for even a second that Louis has any intention of denying him, and all because he doesn’t say no; he doesn’t struggle beyond testing their difference in strength, he doesn’t kick petulantly with his foot or raise his voice or snap in the way Lestat knows he’s oh so good at. Instead, Louis’ heart-rate picks up against Lestat’s lips, and when he grins he can almost feel his fangs ache as they press up against the barrier of Louis’ throat. ]

Well, we’ll never know unless you try. Say what you will about our differences in strength, but you can be very stubborn.

[ Another tease, and probably Lestat’s last since he doesn’t actually want to make Louis so sour that he refuses out of spite. He wants it too, after all, he just has to feel like agreeing isn’t for his benefit alone. ]

Let me do it, Louis. It may only last a few minutes, but let me try…

[ His voice is coaxing, tempting, alluring in the way Lestat has perfected it to be; but beneath it there is a particular kind of need he doesn’t usually show, something private and only for Louis. He kisses that spot again, then opens his mouth to breathe over the spot, to let his fangs create ever so gentle pressure. ]

And then, I’ll give you what we both want.

Can they...intermingle? I mean, you look pretty human...

( Louis inhales slowly, as if to steady or soothe something within himself, but what that thing is even he can't be sure. It isn't as if this actually matters. At worst, what? The mark lasts, and someone might (but probably won't) make a comment implying that he and Lestat have been doing precisely what they have in fact been doing out here, and Louis will flush with an odd, contradictory mixture of embarrassment and possessive pride. Most likely it won't last at all... and that thought comes with a surprising swell of premature disappointment.

So he does want it, then.

When Louis lets out a breath, it's all in a single long rush, ruffling Lestat's hair at his shoulder and letting it fall again to tickle Louis' cheek. )

All right. I'll accept a love bite. But only if I can attempt the same again on you.

( His hands flex in Lestat's grip, almost a challenge, certainly a promise. )

Do it. Prove I'm yours.

[Intermingle...?]

Well, yeah, of course they can live together if the faeries decide to take humans in. But what does me looking human have to do with that?

[The point

her head.]

"Sure. Thanks, again." He gives another nod, agreeable as ever, to whatever the exorcist thinks is best. It's okay if it's not a solution, as long as it makes this more manageable. That's all he needs, for now — the idea that he can... stop this from getting worse.

Which brings him to the question, one he can't hold eye contact for, and he's looking down at the tops of his shoes for a moment — fancier than any kind of shoes he's had in a long time. He hasn't worn a suit since Charlie's funeral.

The question could be answered any number of ways. Physical, emotional, mental.... He can only think of one way, in the moment.

"Like a fucking freak, honestly." A little laugh, hollow. "The friend I.... attacked, she's okay. Mostly. And she's not mad at me or anything, but...." He's dangerous and unpredictable and everything he was frightened of in his mother.

"I just don't want people be scared of me or think I'm like... a ticking time bomb. You know? It sucks."

"... Yeah. Yeah, I can imagine."

She hesitates, eyeing him, unsure exactly what to say. There's only one thing she can think of that might be helpful, but it's ...

Ah, fuck it.

"I, ah -- I'm not saying it's the same, but when I was a little older than you, I was -- I got in a lot of trouble for a couple years. And there was a while where I felt like that, too. Like." She shrugs uncomfortably. "Everyone was seeing the worst version of me when they looked at me. But I had some good friends who got me through it, in the end. And your friend's sticking with you. It does suck, but at least you don't have to be alone with it sucking."

An annoyed noise. "Sorry. I'd make a shit guidance counselor."

Alright! Then let's go find a corner to have a fist-fight. I've never had a fist-fight before at a gala, so this will be super fun.

[ IS THIS REALLY MUCH BETTER. ]

[ a significant amount, yi sang says. hong lu thinks about this. he doesn't think he's ever done anything for a significant amount, or anything that matters, or anything that he's bothered measuring. perhaps the exercises he does every morning, or perhaps fighting, though hong lu wouldn't say he's the world's best in any of those things either. yi sang's face is tucked in the crook of hong lu's shoulders. suddenly, hong lu is overcome with curiosity. he wonders what kind of face yi sang is making right now.

gently, he begins to peel yi sang where he is moored. as he does so, he says: ]

Hmm... I don't think I was before. But all this has made me think. [ hong lu smiles. ] Maybe I won't go for the world's best kisser title. But I can go for the world's best at kissing you title, right? How much practise do you think I need to earn that one?

Mm. Are you quite sure I can't fit a dance in with you first? While we're here, and the night is young, and your radiance has me captured.

[ Midnight takes Kaveh by both hands, turns them until they're floating in the dance floor's orbit. He pulls him in, kisses his fingers on both hands, then puts another on his mouth. ]

Keep me company for as long as you can, my heart. I love to see you.

[ midnight kisses his fingers. his words bleed warmth against the pads of kaveh's finger, rough-hewn and scarred from twisting electrical wire into proper form. ]

Really, Midnight. [ kaveh murmurs. quiet, without censure, with a kind of fondness that curls the tips of his fingers against the long line of midnight's smile, ] The last time we danced, you had to kill me.

All the more reason, then. I want one lovely dance. An objectively objectionless dance. Something we can use as a benchmark for future dances.

[ He turns them around. They are, of course, still making their way back to the stairs, but they're certainly taking the long way around. Dancing their way there, you might say.

He kisses Kaveh again, closes his eyes, rests his head against his. One lovely dance. Something to carry with them into the future. There will be better dances. This is just the first. ]

[ oh. ]

Not... right away, right?

[ don and her partay. sinclair feels obligated to mention that even with the question returned to him, if only for the fact that he feels, perhaps, she should breathe sometimes.

that aside. he moves to stand a little closer to don, not quite resting on the railing but trailing his gaze over the railing towards the things she sees. his own answer is less of a boisterous thing than hers, but heartfelt nonetheless. ]

But mm, it... has been. I—

[ even through the tiny moments where he reaches but not quite, where a maybe occurs to him but it's pushed aside by nerves. this isn't one of these moments, when he looks up and notices her hair ribbon slightly askew.

he reaches without thinking to fix it, drawing his hand back as he realizes, a blush creeping up in tandem with what he's leading up to. at some point. ]

A-ah, sorry. Your ribbon...

[ don shakes her head -- not right now, no -- and stills when his hand shifts the ribbon in her hair, fixes it, a natural motion any other would do... she blames the cool air for her cheeks and the small shiver that runs through her unbidden, and she shakes her head again.

slightly this time, to not mess up his work. ]

Th-There is naught to apologize for. It is not as if I can see the state of my ribbon.

[ though it does, childishly, want her to make sure it needs fixing again and again, that sort of fussing one she favors. she's spoiled by him in a way, don knows she takes advantage of his nature and it's fine, isn't it? her hands curl tighter against the railing and it's fine, isn't it, it isn't hurting either of them to enjoy small things more than she should.

right?

her face turns more pointedly to the city, from her thoughts and to his instead. she's always pulling him along, not expecting-- no, knowing he wouldn't deny her, even if he's capable of speaking up against things he wouldn't want to do, another bit of selfishness she chooses to address in her own way by offer of relief. ]

... Ehm. It is growing to be late, [ for what it's worth, even if she normally has such a time with sleep anyway, ] so if thou'rt ready to go...

[ then she can acquiesce, though the words don't come out. it occurs to her they haven't yet danced themselves, so busy was she to ensure she did all the others, but-- well, that's fine. don think if he touched her the way yesod had she'd explode. ]

[ midnight rests his head against his once more. he kisses him with the gentle warmth of a spring rain. kaveh thinks - what's gotten into you? pressed against midnight amidst the dizzying sway of the dance floor, kaveh looks in minutiae at the contours of midnight's face, at the set of his lips, and the curve of his brow. he isn't certain what he is searching for, nor if there is anything there be found, but he persists.

the way kaveh breathes out is the way of a sigh, low and slow. ]

Hopeless man. [ kaveh gives midnight's hand a squeeze. ] Well, I suppose I've no choice but to dance. In truth, just the fact that I can move on my own already makes this a far better experience than the last.

Come. Follow.[ with a deft tug, kaveh upends their current rhythm of steps, bringing him to the leading position. ] You'll have to dance well, if you mean to make this objectively objectionless.

[ the kiss that kaveh presses to the corner of midnight's lips is warm, and fond. ] Keep up.

[ kaveh thinks of a child who had recently lost his mother. watching that ship sail beyond the fata morgana of an unrealised horizon, the sea spray stinging along chewed lips. he thinks of that child sitting in the house of daena surrounding by the murmuring of peers and the jubilation of them - he thinks of that child feeling alone. the oppressive crush of loneliness can come within a crowd. kaveh knows. had been that child, once.

kaveh isn't certain that he has grown up from being that child, in truth. he had told midnight such, that we don't grow up from our mistakes - only into the best shape meant to carry them forward, and kaveh has always carried his mistakes with him like cloistered treasures. don quixote leads, and kaveh follows. he thinks about a don who sits there with her troubles alone because she is too capable to be helped. ]

Have you heard the phrase - that it's the baby bird that chirps the loudest that obtains the worm? In a nest of baby birds, the mother bird only comes back with a single worm to feed them. How does she know which baby bird to feed? The one who calls out the loudest. And the one who lets itself be, who silences its calls... [ kaveh shakes his head. ] I don't think of you as a baby bird, Don. But I think when you're too capable and self-sufficient, it's those who want you to rely on them that are hurt the most. It's not rational, or logical. But it's simply the way people are.

... Fine! Let's do it!

[I'm so sorry, Kaveh and Ghost.]

We can use that corner over there where nobody's at!

...

[No, he does not want to go over the birds and the bees with her. Nope.]

Never mind.

[ is he ready?

it's an incomplete thought, an incomplete sentence, a rarity of don quixote's that sinclair expands on silently. he is, he isn't, his state a contradiction he can't quite settle into. the simplest answer would be to say that he is; the simplest solution would be to avoid voicing the question that squeezes his heart like so.

yet it'd be frustrating to know he had planned to and he had failed to. this, too, is another selfish thing: to want, to entreat, not knowing whether she even wished to. don hadn't asked him, after all, and she hadn't ever... quite been shy about asking for things like this. he could ask. it's late. she's... tired, maybe? still, he could ask.

sinclair lingers in the edges of that almost. he doesn't draw back even though his hand has, and he doesn't increase their distance even when there's no ribbon to fix. the words sit there, heavy, on the tip of his tongue, and he ]

... Not yet.

[ he lets that out so certainly, knowing he isn't ready. knowing the question won't come, no matter how hard he tries. knowing the music is nothing but a lull in the background, and this isn't the place where it's normally done. if not here, then on the way home for sure, when the weight of his inaction would really hit.

so he does. or, no. this is how he is, overcoming his inhibitions through their destruction, the uncharacteristic (?) boldness balanced with the way he emotionally draws back, words quiet, soft, though his heartbeat is incredibly, incredibly loud. ]

If... there's anything I do that you don't like, tell me.

[ as he comes a little closer, and places a hand over hers, on the railing, to try to lead her to face him. ]

[ she's going to explode.

but she doesn't, and what resistance starts there from surprise at his effort is quickly relinquished as she turns -- meeting his gaze questioningly before turning it aside at their lack of distance. it's never been a problem before, but the lights that stream out from within the gala transform his youthful features into something less malleable, more certain with his soft words, his request. ]

I... do not think...

[ that there could be anything she wouldn't like, if it was him, but the words are bitten back before they come out (where was her foolish heart now? so brave and bold and thoughtlessly confessing that she'd rather be hurt by his side than not allowed there at all, a confession in all but name,) and she shakes her head.

says more surely, a habitual volume louder than his but quiet for don quixote all the same: ]

I will tell thee if there is anything I am against.

[ even though she isn't quite sure what it is he wants with her, hand and heart in his. often she wonders if he can hear it, but if he couldn't in the dead of their apartment he definitely can't with the music barely acknowledged by her mind. nevermind the redness of her cheeks, the awkward tension of her shoulders. ]

[ AND THEY GO HAVE A FIST-FIGHT.

AT GHOST'S SAINTLY GALA.

HELP. ]

No matter how out of Johanna's comfort zone this may be (as sensitive to other people as he is, Peter definitely picks up on the discomfort), he seems to be hanging onto every word, watching her speak, paying attention. It's something he... clings onto, maybe, the concept of someone older who knows what it's like — there's a certain desperation, a need for guidance that has completely stripped him of any lingering 'teenager putting on the uncaring attitude' he might've worn in the past.

His eyes are widening just a little, enough to show he's there and listening and affected by the words she's saying. 'Everyone was seeing the worst version of me when they looked at me.'

It sucks. It sucks to be looked at like that, no matter how much you might try to pretend it doesn't. Before long you start thinking of yourself like that, too.

He blinks when she's says that last bit, shakes his head a little. "No— no, uh... it's good to hear I'm not the only one. Really. Sometimes I feel like I'm just... not on the same planet as everybody else."

A shy smile, a little awkward; he knows it sounds dramatic, stupid, silly — but none of it feels that way, is the thing. It feels like the worst.

It helps. She helps.

"She's really nice. Totally hoping I can get all this shit taken care of soon so I stop freaking people out."

... Thank you.

[ it's as close to can we dance? as he gets. her acknowledgement moves him, her own cut off words a familiar, unfamiliar mirror that he sets aside to look into later. shortly. what... doesn't she think?

he takes her next line honestly, as he always does, trusting her with an ease that only seemed simpler with time. odd, perhaps, with his tendency to overthink... odd too, that this comfort always seemed coupled with a strangling hold on his speech, his breath, despite it all.

he could have just asked. but he picks one of her hands up instead, and gently settles it on his shoulder. after, he lays his hand on her back (hesitating, he hesitates just a bit), and pulls don closer. not- not as close as he could, still, not as close as he would—

—it's... okay. he moves to join their free hands, now, and his nerves are stacking on themselves to hold him under, but it's okay. ]

I wanted to ask.

[ wanted. what he plans to do — what he wanted — is obvious enough with how he's posed them, maybe, and more obvious with the way he coaxes and leads them into their tense, fragile beginning. is it even in time with the music?

one step. maybe she'll laugh. surely with him, never at him, and even if it was... two steps. it would still be fine, because she was laughing, and... three steps. maybe that would be reward enough, for being so selfish.

subconsciously, his hand squeezes hers just the slightest. a heartbeat. ]

But I couldn't. Is this...?

[ is this fine? ]

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[open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

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