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| Scene Title | Labyrinth Ball |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Tartarus hosts a masquerade. Some people take advantage of anonymity, while others put on a display of evolved abilities. |
| Date | October 8, 2010 |
Most of Tartarus's shindigs don't change the look of the place much. It may be more crowded and have a lower percentage of goths in residence, but the feel of the place is the same as on any other night. Not so tonight, the night of the Labyrinth Ball.
The lights are still the same. The dim red illuminated here and there by a pale yellow glow, mostly highlighting the decorations that have been put in place for this night alone. There are faux gilded branches climbing the wall, standing out sharply amongst the black. There are posters on the walls promoting masquerades and Italian balls that have long since ended. And here and there are white icicle style Christmas lights up.
The staff has gotten into the spirit of things, almost all of them wearing a costume, though each one is different. The one thing that marks staff from customers are the identical masks. Black demi-masks with flames on the outer boarders. The only staff that aren't in costume are the security staff, who are wearing their normal black tee-shirts with 'SECURITY' on the back.
The customers are wearing a myriad of different costumes. Some have gone for silly goblins or beautiful faeries, while others have gotten more into the theme of the night and gone for more complicated costumes that more resemble characters from the Labyrinth movie. There are, of course, a number of people who have decided to dress up as Jareth. Who wouldn't want to be a king if one was going to be a goblin anyway?
One of the more ornate costumes is worn by the club's manager. It's a strapless black gown with a full skirt and gold embellishment on the bodice. The sleeves are detachable and fastened at the back, they end at the back of her hands where they come to points. Her mask is a full headdress that looks heavy but vaguely venetian in design, with eyeholes covered in thin black fabric that allow her to see while hiding her eyes. Her skin has been painted white, lips black and her hair dyed black for the occasion. Gold and black cameo earrings hang from her ears and the final piece of her costume is a thick (and fake) chain with a skull on the end of it.
Gamer geeks might get an inkling that it's actually a character from Diablo III. Mistress of Pain. Go figure.
She wanders through the crowd, making sure everything runs smoothly while occasionally complimenting a costume here and there. And occasionally getting a drink for herself and watching the door.
Really, Monica at first glance probably looks more like a svelte young man, dressed as she is in black slacks, shiny flat dress shoes, a shimmering red vest that was clearly made for a man, and the matching red top hat her hair is tucked up in. She carries a cane in one hand, with a skull-shaped topper on it, which goes with the bone necklace she's got on and her mask, which is also a skull covering her face above her nose. There seems to be a feather-and-bones motif going on throughout her outfit… Voodoo counts, doesn't it? It's only the way that vest hugs her gentle curves that gives away that there's a girl under there. She couldn't bring herself to wear the things they sell out there for women. She'd be too embarrassed. And heaven forbid if she had to kick someone's ass in it! She would die from the humiliation.
Monica also seems to have an issue mingling. So there she stands, leaning against the bar, all by her lonesome with a drink in her hand. But she's watching the others!
This is definitely not Nick's kind of affair, but he saw the ads, and he saw the news, and this is the best way to check up on Melissa without her knowing he's checking up on her. Of course, with everyone masked and cloaked and costumed, it's hard to be sure just which faerie or goblin or pixie is Melissa.
Nick himself had to rely on the a costume shop nearby, and it was mostly sold out of anything fitting the occasion, rentals and purchases alike. So he is in an artistic hodgepodge put together by the helpful shopgirl — what amounts to a buccaneer's coat and boots paired with one of the Venetian masquerade masks with the long nose. It leaves his jaw uncovered, which makes him feel oddly more vulnerable than if his entire face were bare.
All told, $100 for a rental for a night for what will likely be all of an hour or less of making sure someone who once tried to be his friend is all right. Next time, maybe he should just call.
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The shadow knows.
The tagline to the old radio dramas The Shadow may be lost on much of this generation, but the masked man enterting Tartarus does in fact recall those days. Head concealed by a wide-brimmed and ink black hat, he is draped in an ankle-length cape of the same dark shade, filled in with bright red on the interior that gives his dark clothing beneath a crisp silhouette. His face, up to his nose, is wrapped in a bright red scarf perhaps iconic more of Messiah these days than the Shadow, and everything above the cloth wrapping is hidden by a black velvet demi mask with threads of black fabric and wire sweeps away from his face like tendrils of ink.
Having only just arrived down the stairs leading in to Tartarus, his arms concealed by the heavy fabric of his cape save for where one gloved hand comes out to pay the admittance fee at the door, wrinkled bills pinched between leather-clad fingers. Offering a look through the doorway, there's a searching expression in brown eyes as he begins to walk further in, boots softly thumb as he walks beneath the noise of the music playing while the Shadow makes his entrance.
Though technically, she has made her weekend terribly busy, when coming out of last night- this is exactly what Delilah needs. She came with friends, but has since parted with them to either mingle on her own or find a seat somewhere to do the same. She mixes it up, given that under her costume, light as it is, she is still eight months pregnant. Maybe that makes her obvious when her friends guess who is there, or maybe some people think it is part of the costume.
The costume itself is a cocoon of feathery layers of long fabric, draped as a complex robe of earth colors over a taller feminine frame. Cream and bronze, mostly, dotted with some fabric of green and brackish blue. The robe gathers just below the low-cut bust of the gown underneath, gathered again under her stomach with a bronzed belt, that also matches various spiraling patterns and symbols on the robes, seemingly thick jewelry, and the braiding of red hair. The hood of the robe is clasped against her head by a circlet, and though that red man curls out from under it, her face is largely obscured by a coppery green and brown half mask, the bottom having two slender, curling ivory tusks. A boar mask, in such symbolism.
All in all, Delilah made quite the effort; she'll take artistic licenses when she can, and run them raw.
Nadira's manning the bar, as usual. Or rather… the Green Fairy is. Dressed in a satin ball-gown, tiered of course, she wears an elaborate green mask and a pair of short gauze fairy-wings, black hair pinned pulled into two braids wound up with green ribbons. Appropriate, given that she's dispensing some mixed drinks that look just as colorful and have been re-named various things for the occasion. She's put a lot of thought in this, and she seems more than happy to be behind the bar, at least for now.
Wending her way from bar towards DJ booth, Ygraine trusts to her costume and newly-red hair to hide her identity from those around her. Her ability, however, remains with her, making the task of safely ushering drinks through the throng rather easier, the liquid within the glasses in each hand unusually disinclined to spill or slop out.
Over-the-knee leather cavalry boots provide a bit of extra elevation, each of the Briton's footfalls clomping solidly on the floor as she darts around and through the mobile minefield of her fellow party-goers. They partly cover skin-tight black breeches, while an elaborate white silk shirt is in turn part-covered by a close-fitting gold and black waistcoat - the combination exposing no skin, but leaving precious little about the clearly-female wearer's curves to the imagination. Gloves cover the hands, a golden scarf is tucked into the open collar of the shirt, and a gold-embroidered black mask covers three quarters of the wearer's face - of which no more than palid skin and golden lips can be seen. The eyes that blaze out from behind it, however, are a brilliant, UV-reactive blue-white, vertically slitted in darkest black.
The one bad thing about having a masquerade is…it's hard to find friends in the crowd of costumes! Melissa certainly tries though, glancing around, trying to spot familiar mannerisms and the like. Not that it gets her anywhere! Not yet at least. So she makes her way to the bar, to her normal place at the bar even, getting a drink. Those who know her might be clued in to her identity by the whole not paying for the drink think, while being all unique in costume. Benefit to being manager.
Nadira gets the head's up more quickly than others, since it's her Mel's asking for a drink from. "So what do you think so far? Some awesome costumes, don't you think?" She grins at the bartender. "Nervous about later?"
Like Cinderella, Delia is rather late to the ball. Like Cinderella before the fairy godmother, the redhead's costume is largely home made. The pieces that have been bought are from scraps found in thrift stores and odds and ends. In real life, she's modest but this isn't exactly real life, it's a costume party. Costumes are supposed to be outrageous and since she didn't feel like dressing up as a fairy, Delia went as something else entirely.
Her long read hair has been wrapped into a wire frame around her head, looking very much like an ornate halo, then spray painted gold. She's wearing what looks to be a cape around her body and her arms are tucked to keep it completely closed. While she doesn't look like the typical beast from Labyrinth, if anyone has ever seen the movie Blow Dry, they can easily guess what her costume is.
With a glance over, Monica catches sight of Nick in his coat. Or rather, she catches sight of the costume. Stepping over so she can be heard over the music, she notes, "Nice coat." It's another thing that gives away that there's a girl under there, her voice is distinctly so. "It's… quite a party, huh?" It… might be outside of her normal scene, this ball.
Quinn's mask is a wide, black butterfly mask, situated firmly over her face, the colour chosen to fit the predominantly black and bronze outfit she wears. Steampunk might not be what someone would have expected her to wear, but it's exactly what the order of the evening has turned out to be, decked out with tubes, knobs, and even gear shaped earrings. The music for the evening is a bit of a different order than usual as well, but still, Quinn makes regular trips to the DJ station in an effort to keep it moving. When someone - likely one of two people who's costume she knows - arrives with drinks, she takes one and grins. "Ready t' join the party?"
Slipping her now free-hand across Quinn's corseted back, Ygraine angles her head to avoid a clash of masks as she plants a golden kiss upon the other woman's lips. "I was worried you might be a bit dark, in here but the lights catch the bronze quite impressively - even from a distance away", she happily announces. "As for the party - sure. Not that I have any idea who anyone here might be."
The beak-nosed man smiles, but realizes that it's barely seen beneath the proboscis of his mask, and he bows his head a little in acknowledgment of the compliment. "Thanks. It's just a renter, I can't take much credit. Yours is pretty fitting of the normal decor," Nick says. His mask points in the direction of the bar as he notices the black-gowned woman sitting and getting a free drink — it might be the woman he's here to check on, which means he can go any time, right?
"I have a confession," he tells Monica's masked form, "I ain't never seen the movie so I don't know what fits and doesn't, but this was about the best I could do on short notice anyway."
The Shadow is like many at the club, isolated and pondering the dance floor. His tall silhouette stands beside one of the walls in view of the dance area, head tipped down for the brim of his hat to hide his eyes, face all but covered entirely by mask and scarf cowl. On tilting his head up to look around the club again, it is one particular figure from Celtic mythology that garners his attention. Be it that the woman dressed in flowing robes is heavily pregnant or that this is clue enough on her identity is not certain.
But the Shadow moves, booted feet treading across the club's floor in a steady path towards Delilah, only to hesitate halfway there, halting in stiff rigidity to look over one shoulder, towards the bar where Melissa slouches with the bartender, getting her drink. Then a flicked look to the man in the beaked plague doctor mask, then back around the club again. Something has his attention, more so than Delilah. He just can't find it.
Since her 'costume' isn't at full effect, not at the moment, the young woman slides toward the bar being very careful not to step in anything unpleasant. The thin shoes on her feet are nothing more than clear plastic flip flops to give the illusion of being barefoot (Walmart ninety-nine cents). The mask on her face isn't so much a mask as it is Halloween makeup and bits of gold leaf stuck to her in a pattern reminiscent of a Trill from Stark Trek DS9.
"Well crap…" she mutters to herself with a sigh before glancing toward the bartender, "Can I uhm… uhh… wine cooler?" She'd stolen her sister's ID years ago to get into an X-Rated movie, when Lucille noticed and started screaming about it, Delia was too sheepish to give it back. Two years later? It's the perfect fake to get a drink at a costume party.
Picking up her drink Melissa glances around the club, sipping and still trying to spot someone she knows. She hones in on red-scarf man, and a brow arches, but she makes no move to approach him. Rupe wears red scarves, and she's avoiding him. Instead she turns to masked Delia and smiles. "Enjoying the ball? Found anyone to dance with yet?" she asks the younger woman.
Nadira looks back towards Melissa, sliding the drink over towards her with a bit of a grin. "To be honest… I am a little, but… I am also excited. I saw a bit of a carnival the other day where people were using abilities openly… and it was quite refreshing." She grins. "And the other outfit is rather fun as well. I am glad it's all worked out well." She peers at the woman. "Anyone special coming to see you?" She teases. She disappears for just a moment, glancing back towards Delia as she orders a drink. And really? Considering the costumes it'd be hard to catch people with fake IDs anyways. She slides over a wine cooler, chuckling at the drink choice. "I could suggest something better, if you'd prefer…"
The woman in the boar mask is exchanging words with a man(?) dressed in dull metallic armor and leggings, his hair lifted into a mohawk and his half mask something that looks like it has been doused a bit in warpaint. When he moves, the metal chimes as it bumps together. She seems taken by something he says, laughing brightly under the mask, painted auburn lips pulled into a smile that is barely visible. In the robed gown, as she is, Lilah does her best to make an effect by moving slower- moving more carefully than usual- trying to fit herself with a more ethereal quality. She hasn't seen anyone spotting her, engrossed with that single young man and whatever they are talking about.
Another moment passes between them, and culmination of something said results in Delilah taking his hand and putting it over the right side of her belly; she must know him, to allow him to feel the baby kick. He must like the music.
"I suppose it is," Monica says while a hand smooths her vest unnecessarily. "I usually don't fit in this well." When Nick makes his confession, the mimic laughs, a friendly smile spreading across her face to clash with her costume. "Shameful," she tsks playfully. "But, if we're makin' confessions… all I really remember of this movie is a little fox guy with a sword. But I'm gonna say… it isn't that we aren't following the theme, it's that we're trendsetting. See?"
Nick laughs, moving closer to the bar though keeping to the end far from Melissa. "Plague masks and skulls go well together, right? I think there's some other folks not all in the goblin land theme, either," he says, nodding toward the red-scarved man skulking around. "They're gonna throw us in a satellite room or something for ruining the mood."
He turns to the bar — it's hard to catch a bartender's eye when one's face is obscured, but he tries. "Bass and something for my friend?" he calls over the din, then nods to Monica. "You look familiar. You happen to hang around parks with a pair of twins — one blond, one red?"
Climbing down from the booth and stage is a bit more of an issue in Quinn's stiffer than normal outfit, but she manages, letting out a sigh as she adjusts her mask. A glance is had back to Ygraine, and then over to where she sees Melissa, before she ventures forth into the crowd at large, a wide grin on her face.
"I uhm.. I just got here, thanks. I'm uhm — " Looking down at herself Delia clears her throat a little too loudly and shakes her head. The glint off her 'halo' catches the light and she smile, her skin sparkling from the leaf glued to it. "I'm not dancing tonight, not dressed like this." Whatever she's got on underneath the cape must be too constricting to dance, or something.
When Nadira offers something else, the angel/bird-thing's jaw just goes a little slack and she takes a quick breath in. "I uhm.. No, maybe I'll get a Zima later?" She pulls a five dollar bill from someplace inside the cape and awkwardly bends down to drop it on the bar. "K-keep the change…" Mostly because she doesn't want to have to open up to pick it up.
Nadira's question earns a slightly sad smile from Melissa. "Was supposed to have a date, but I think that he got caught up in work. Sweet guy. He was here for karaoke, actually. Don't remember if you were here or not, but we 'sang' Tequila?" she asks, making air quotes. Delia gets a curious look. "I know that voice. I think," she muses, before glancing back to Nadira. "Lemme know when you're ready."
Locking half her attention onto the fall of red hair, the swishing silk and the glimmering bronze of the Irishwoman's costume, Ygraine follows Quinn through the throng. She spares lingering glances for the costumes she passes, the unearthly eyes behind her mask flashing and glaring whenever they are caught by light, but for the time being she seems happy simply to keep track of the DJ.
"Miss Trafford?" The voice isn't readily familiar to Delilah, too young to be Samson Gray and not quite like any one of her male friends. "I might be making a guess here, based on the package you're carrying, of course." One gloved hand comes out towards the redhead, and the Shadow affords Delilah with an intent look with his chocolate brown eyes. "My name's Kent Allard," which is of course a joke, as that was the real name of the fictitious Shadow character.
"You live at the Octagon, dont you?" There's a subtle tilt of Mister Allard's head to the side, the brim of his hat dipping towards Delilah. "We haven't met before, but we share a neighbor. I thought I'd say hello, it seemed like the neighborly thing to do."
"A timeout and a change of costume provided," Monica says with a smile. She turns to the bartender and sets her glass on the bar, which is now just ice, but used to hold a Melon Ball. "Another of these, thanks," she says, also trying to be heard over the din.
She turns back to Nick, her smile crooked as he goes on, perhaps a bit of disbelief that someone is using the 'haven't we met before' line, but luckily, he goes on. And she blinks. "Oh no. The guy we scared off, right? I swear we're nice, it's just the guy's datin' a friend of ours! It's practically the law that we give him a hard time." She's really nice, seriously!
Delilah is as much a geek as the next person- maybe a bit more. She knows the character that this man that asks her name- foul!- but not too much else. Delilah holds up a finger to her mouth under the mask, a gesture for him to make an effort to keep the atmosphere.
"I do." The young man in the mohawk was in his last moments of words with her, it seems, as he lifts a hand to her shoulder and she pats a palm onto it as he smiles, leans over to kiss her on the cheek, and sidles away. Delilah centers her eyes back on the Shadow. "I have some interesting neighbors, let me tell you. Ricky's been a bad boy, I hear. Some drama on another floor too, but goodness knows what that's about. I try not to pry anymore. But saying hello, yes, a neighborly thing to do." Delilah chuckles.
Nadira's passing out the drinks quickly, not surprised at the popularity and the number of drinks she's passing around. She peers towards Melissa. "Sorry about the date thing, that is a shame. Maybe he will show up unexpectedly?" She scans the crowd a bit. "I have to say… it is a bit difficult to figure out who everyone is under masks… which could be good."
"How far along are you anyway?" The Shadow asks with a look down to Delilah's stomach. "That little guy's gotta be…" there's a slow, thoughtful tone to the masked man's voice. "Seven months? Eight?" Brown eyes alight back to Delilah and his tone remains just as light as it was before. "Figure he'll be out and around any time now, won't he? You're lucky you moved in to the Octagon when you did with that roommate of yours. Good security, nice, safe location."
Angling his head to the side, the Shadow considers Delilah's pregnant stomach again, lifting a gloved hand up to his scarf to adjust it, then asking with a wary tone. "Do… you think I could feel him kick?" It's sheepishly asked, followed by a huff of laughter. "God, that sounds so creepy, I'm really sorry about that."
Melissa laughs and shrugs at Nadira. "It's all good. If work's got him work's got him. And yeah, having problems spotting anyone I know besides people who work here." She drains her glass then grins. "And now, I'm gonna go dance and hope someone joins me. And gonna leave this here," she says, putting the chain and skull on the bar before heading off towards the dance floor.
Quinn's first destination once out on the floor is one no one should be surprised by - she makes a beeline for the bar. She's not planning on drinking too much tonight, but she certainly intends to have a few early in the night. Plus, she is intrigued by the bartender's costume. A hand runs back through her red hair as she takes Ygraine by the hand and pulls her along, towards the bar. "Hello!" she exclaims as she sidles up beside Melissa, trying to seem like she doesn't know anybody. "Got anythin' special for t'night?" The accent's going to make that impossible, though.
The tall beak-masked man takes his beer and the melon cocktail, paying Nadira with a bill large enough to cover both and a healthy tip, waving his hand when she goes to make change. He hands the latter of the two drinks to Monica. "I wasn't scared!" he protests. "And of course. Anytime someone dates a friend of yours, you have to descend upon him like a swarm of africanized bees. It's your gender's birthright, after all."
He takes a healthy gulp of the pale ale, glancing again in Melissa's direction and noting the tall awkward girl who even in costume can only be Delia. He chuckles and shakes his head — the city of New York is somehow the smallest town he's ever been in in his 23 years.
She's late, pretty sure she's late, but there's so much to do and she had to get someones help to get her costume on and ready. The blonde getting in past the door with the requisite flash of ID and whatever cover charge is trying to keep all the beads and strips of fabric away from feet that might tread on it and fight with one strand that keeps trying to insinuate itself between skin and GPS anklet that she can't really hide. Abigail's worried that it might break or the costume might and then the rental place might be very pissed at her.
When she's in though, she's looking around, hoping that despite all the masks she might find someone she knows. There's no necklace either, rings on her finger.
If this were anywhere but a masked ball, Delilah might find this stranger unbelievably cute. Usually she is more than welcoming about people wanting to touch her- it comes with the pregnant thing- sometimes people just want to touch, and most of the time she is fine with it. There's something about this that seems odd, though, and it takes her a moment of half-smiling to pinpoint it. The redheaded Danu laughs, softly, tilting her chin to consider the man again.
"Eight months. Yeah, a little creepy- and I'm just wondering… how it is that you know it's a boy?" Just putting that out there. Dee wants to see what he says first.
Monica takes her drink with a soft thank you, but it's followed by a laugh as he goes on. "Alright, so you say. You're just gonna have to come hang out with us again some time to prove it." She nods, though, to those last words, "I've heard it said. We're just extra protective, is all." When he glances toward Melissa again, Monica glances that way, too, then back to him. "You know her?" She, at least, doesn't seem to recognize Delia from that little run in at the park.
A shy smile is given to Nadira as she passes around the drink and Delia lowers her head just a little. Standing in the corner between the bar and the wall, she watches Melissa traipse off and chews on the inside of her cheek. That totally has to be Irene, she gave herself away when she let loose that she sang Tequila with Russo.
Lifting the drink to her lips, she pours just a little into her mouth. She's trying to be extra careful not to ruin the makeup that she spent pretty much all day on. Good thing about having a model for a sister, right? "Is there anyone here that you recognize?" she says to the bartender, "I mean… that you can tell who they are? I'm sort of… I'm a little nervous about talking to complete strangers."
Having been towed over to the bar and its attendant fairy by Quinn, Ygraine shakes her head at the Irishwoman's determination to live up (or down?) to her national reputation - then turns her white-and-black inhuman gaze and a gold-lipped grin upon Delia. "Isn't the point of something like this that virtually everyone is a stranger?", she asks, her voice educated, British, and quite unknown to the young woman. "Who knows who - or what - might be lurking behind any of these masks?"
"Well, I can at least see one or two I recognize, but that is mostly because I work here. Do not worry about being nervous, though. If you act silly or foolish… they will not know you later on. Anonymity is a good thing. You could dance with a strange and flirt and tomorrow morning never know who it is." Nadira comments to Delia. "So… have a drink, gather your confidence, and do what you would never do if you thought people were watching."
"Just a little, like been in here before," Nick says to Monica's question about knowing Melissa. "Just making sure she's not all playing hostess and forgetting to have fun, you know? I'll probably dance a round with her to make sure of that, but you know, I don't wanna desert you right after buying you your fruity alco-tart drink." Nick's good at the American accent, but isn't quite up on what slang hasn't made it across the Atlantic. He takes another healthy swallow of his beer. He leaves aside the question of hanging out with Monica and the 'twins.'
It's taken this long for the Shadow to formula the answer, a (ha ha) pregnant silence falling betweeh the two. "You're…" nope, restart, "Your roommate talks quite a bit," is an answer he'd wished he'd come up with sooner. This isn't as easy as he remembers it being, but then again everything seems pretty new at the moment. "Else, right? I mean, it's hard not to recognize her, what with being a former musical prodigy and all that. She's nice, though, talks like she's but a mouth full of a sandwich though." To that, the Shadow offers an awkward laugh.
"Sorry if I came off as a bit forward, though. I ah… it's been a long time since my wife and I had our first," there in that tone is a distantly reminiscent tone of voice. "I remember how scary it was. How amazing it was…" dark eyes go distant for a moment.
"I don't mean to sound like a stalker," the Shadow explains apologetically, lowering that gloved hand. "I guess old habits die hard, right?" Silence, then another awkward laugh. "It's a joke, it's a joke."
Abigail makes her way to the bar, missing Melissa as she heads for the dance floor, wedging in to one side of Nick, gathered near Monica et al, leaning into the counter so she can get one of the bartenders attention. "Coke and rum please" Loud enough to be heard over the music and loud enough that those nearby can hear the familiar accent that belongs to many a persons favorite southern EMT. Or in Nicks case, not so favorite EMT. Of whom Abby turns to and gives a smile in the lights of the bar. "Hey"
While others chat and drink, Melissa's already had a few of the latter, and will no doubt have plenty of the former eventually. And right now all her attention is on not poking out an eye with that headdress of hers. It really isn't the best costume for dancing, but she couldn't resist. Silly Melissa. Still, she does try, lingering on the fringes where she can sort of move without doing too much damage. Damage is bad for business!
"Well, I appreciate that," Monica says with a gentle smile and a sip of said drink. "But that's sweet of you. Making sure she's having a good time, too." Glancing over to see Mel out on the floor, she looks down at her drink, then back up at Nick again. "In the meantime… if you're agreeable to dancing… maybe we can see if plague doctors and skulls go well together… uh. On the dance floor." Yes. She's good at this.
Amidst all the masked ballgoers suddenly appears a man, but not just any man. Sure, there's a few cheap knockoffs of Jareth present here, but they're clearly just people dressing up as him. No, this man is perfect. His hair is perfect, his face is perfect, his makeup is perfect, even his teeth are perfect… and quite sharp, as is clearly evident when he smiles. He even has the correct way of moving through the crowd, disappearing behind a few people, only to reappear elsewhere. It's as if David Bowie has decided to come, stepping in from the past of about twenty years ago. The outfit is, naturally, the sparkly jacket and tight pants from the Labyrinth ball. And he is without a mask.
The man's awkwardness and general demeanor don't purposefully put Delilah on edge- but she has reason to be, for no reason at all. His continued stumbling however, that doesn't give her a terribly great reason. This guy isn't so much deserving of brusqueness, really, according to current states. Delilah offers him a slender hand and a small smile.
"I have worse stalkers than ones that turn up mysteriously at parties with bad jokes and a stammer." Totally honest, here. "You can if you'd like, I suppose- he likes music, I think it must be strange to hear it underwater, though. Just hoping he doesn't end up never going to sleep unless I play Metallica or something…"
Nick takes a hard swallow of his beer. He's here to make sure the girl he hurt by throwing her out of his life — or really, just refusing to let her into it, other than a few moments — is okay, but now another woman's asking him to dance?
He clears his throat, nods to Abby, eyes narrowing behind his mask at the Southern drawled order. His subconscious recalls the voice — and the warnings about her more solidly in conscious memory are stirred as well. He sets down his drink and nods to Monica. "Just none of that fast music, I don't know how to do none of that, and I can barely do the shuffle foot dancing like a kid in middle school, so bear with me."
He reaches for her hand and moves toward the dance floor, mostly to get away from that blond fire mimic.
And where's the bartender? Well, it seems that Nadira's slipped off for a bit, at least. Mysterious green fairies indeed. And it's easy for one to slip in and out in a party like this. She moves, disappearing into the back.
It's only when Quinn looks back up form a gaze out at the crowd that she notices Nadira's gone. "Oh, shit," she says quietly, looking out and around, before she leans over an kissing Ygraine on the cheek. "Stay here." And with that, she's running off to somewhere.
"Yes that is a legitimate identification. Can't you read my passport, I am a citizens of the Republic of Congo." There's a huff of breath and an exasperation in the bubbly voice near the door being checked by the bouncers on the way in. From the top of the stairs the youthful voice cant quite be identified. "Sweetheart if I wanted to get a fake passport do you think I would have wasted all this time looking this fantastic?"
A few grumbling words later, and there's the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. More notably, its platform shoes clomping step after step, followed by the implausible shimmer of glittering silver bodysuit with impossible wide shoulderparts ending in tapered points. A powdered wig sits atop a slender young man's head, his rosy cheeks partly concealed by a rhinestone half mask covering his eyes and the bridge of his nose.
Even Rhys Bluthner needs a day off from being a hero.
Across the club from whoever that is entering in glittering fashion, the Shadow offers a faint smile, then furrows his brows behind his mask and reaches out to take Delilah's hand, letting his gloved one be guided only a moment before he squeezes her hand more firmly. There's a moment of confusion, followed by a numbing tingle in Delilah's hand before the Shadow withdraws his from hers. "How— what happened to your ability?"
What?
Kendall appears as well, right next to Melissa. His costume is very simple. Anyone remember that Casper movie? Well he's dressed up as Casper when he was turned into a person briefly. Just the simple white shirt and black pants, and the hairdo… oh, and he's floating a few inches above the floor. He smiles innocently at his adopted mother/sister/aunt/random female relative. "Hiya."
Jareth the Goblin King appears right next to Rhys. "And what are you supposed to be, coming to my ball dressed like that?" he asks, and even has the proper voice and that way of oozing sexuality. A graceful finger touches the point of one shoulder, a single eyebrow lifting.
Ohmigawd there's a random Kendall. Melissa jumps, blinks, then grins at Kendall. "No mask? And they let you in? Bad Kendall, no cookie. Glad you're here though. You seen Quinn yet?" Oops. Quinn's darting out. "Oh hell. I'd give you a hug, but I'd blind you. Go hang out at the bar or harass people. But no scaring them out of the club! I gotta go do a thing." A quick grin, then she's heading for the stage. Slowly.
Delilah does not so much jerk her hand away from his, as she does retreat from it. She knows what the difference is, between a strong man and a man with something else in his hands. She tucks her limb close, palm smoothing up over her bump protectively. The mask tilts down with her head as she stares him down, now. Innocent or not, he blew whatever it was that he had. The tusks of the mask make the mother goddess Danu costume look threatening, all of a sudden.
"I think that you have some explaining to do about who you are, or you need to leave me be. I'm giving you a chance to do one or the other, before I make it very hard for you to get out of here." Mercy, partly.
Plague mask flee's, gone with whomever his date or choice to dance with and Abby claims her drink. Somewhere on her person her phone rings and the the blonde dressed as a storm takes off for a quiet corner where she can take the call and actually hear the person on the other end.
Kendall shrugs at Melissa. "Do I need one? I mean, I'm dressed up as a ghost. Ghosts can't really wear masks." As he says the word 'ghost' the first time, he starts becoming transparent, and at the second repetition, even more so. "How's this?"
Uh oh. Ghosty? In public? Melissa swats at Kendall. "If you're gonna do that, then yes, you need a mask. You're not registered, remember?" she whispers to him. "Now illusion a mask or behave or I swear I'll kick your butt." And then she's heading for the stage. For reals. She's got an act to announce and costume contest to deal with!
It's an odd pairing, but it seems to work. A plague doctor dancing with a skeleton makes sense, after all. There are further ironies that Nick isn't educated or introverted enough to notice: that he has a death wish, at times, and so dancing with Lady Death seems to work for that metaphor. The other is that he inadvertently chose a bird-beaked mask, while his sister, who he'd thought was dead, is an avian empath. This was not deliberate — there were only three masks left in the store, and Frankenstein and Spongebob simply didn't fit the tone of the party.
On the dance floor, the music is slow enough that Nick trusts his own feet. He takes Monica a little gingerly in his arms, about as awkwardly as the middle school kid he'd alluded to in their dialogue. "I don't really dance much… sorry," he mutters.
Utterly blanked by Delia, kissed on the cheek and then abandoned by Quinn, and without even a bartender to talk to, Ygraine finds herself at a distinct loss. David Bowie and Caspar the Ghost do attract her attention however… and the familiar-looking teen talking to Melissa has her frowning deeply. She shakes her head at sight of him, sighs, and drifts along the bar towards a darker corner. She might be wrong, of course - but illusions of reported-dead Evolved and blatant power use don't seem like they're set to bode well for the course of the night's events.
There has to be a mask? Gosh! Raquelle shows up mostly due to making promises to do so and his mask is a simple lace half mask that goes around his eyes, letting him see the world, breathe, and not mess up his make-up with a mask that covers his whole face.
Tight pants, riding crop…top hat, it is still undeniable Raquelle as he saunters his way to the bar, extra sway of his hips. "…explain why I'm here again…all the fabulousness I exude might kill somebody, gosh…"
Turning to Ygraine, the angel/bird-thing gives a small smile and a shrug, "I know that's the point.. I just I don't know, I don't really like to uhm…" Her words are cut off by the entrance of Lady Gaga and then the scene on the other side of the room in relation to the pregnant woman. Ducking back around, she winds her way to the dance floor in an attempt to get to the door and bumps into one of the security teams.
As Delia's arms wave out to the side, she's caught by a spotlight and… she's not wearing much more than a thong and a whole load of body paint — and some gold leaf. When her arms are spread, the cape takes on a winglike pattern that looks extremely graceful… until she lands on her butt in the middle of the floor.
Kendall frowns at Melissa. "How's about this then?" he mutters, passing a hand over his face. Now he even looks like that kid from Casper. There, they can't bag and tag him if they don't know who he really is! …and he's not dead, honest. He's just, er… a ghost currently.
There's an arch of one manicured brow by Rhys at the question of his attire, followed by a flick of blue eyes away and towards the gold-painted young woman doing an ass-plant on the floor. His lips creep up into a smile, followed by a steady shake of his head before his attention squares on the Shadow. Eyes narrow, and the silver-shimmering young man in six inch platform shoes begins making a clomping approach towards him with steady pace.
In the meantime, there is something of an exasperated hiss of breath from the Shadow. "I'm… someone extremely concerned about the well-being of your son, that's all." The Shadow tilts his chin up with a stretch of the red fabric, brown eyes considering Delilah for a moment. "He's special, and I think there's someone very dangerous out there who might be looking for him, for you. But I was mistaken, I was… things happened differently. I didn't know you had the Five Ten."
The Shadow takes a step back, brown eyes narrowed. "Maybe there wasn't anything for me to be worried— "
"Excuse me," comes clearly from Rhys, followed by a tap on the Shadow's shoulder. "Hi, I don't think we've met but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here?" All politeness has a certain catty tone to it from Rhys to the Shadow, followed by ana pologetic look to Delilah. "I'm sorry honey but I need to take this one aside, I hope you don't mind?"
The Shadow offers alook askance to Rhys, one brow raised and eyes narrowed, followed by a downwards turn of his lips. "Bluthner," is bluntly stated, "you're looking good." Shifting a look side-long to Delilah, the Shadow looks attentively back to Rhys. "Outside?"
Melissa climbs up on stage, a chore in her costume, and makes her way over to the microphone. The headdress and mask are taken off and set down, making her one of the few who are recognizeable. For now anyway. A cue to kill the music is given, and obeyed a moment later, and the mic is switched on. "Welcome to the Labyrinth Ball! We've got a special show for you guys here in a minute, but first I thought you might want to hear the results of the costume contest!"
She grins out at the crowd and glances around for a moment. "We've actually got a tie tonight. Between Lady Gaga," and the spotlight settles on Rhys, "and the gold bird lady!" Sorry Delia, but it's you in the spotlight now! "So if our winners can just come on up here, you both get a cash prize!" And said cash is waved around.
After Lady Gaga makes an appearance and is confronted by Jareth for some reason, another person enters. Dressed - well - wearing some kind of costume that appears to be made mostly of pale blue body paint with darker accents around pectoral muscles and abs and back, with a cape that appears to be made of some kind of substance that's wet to the touch and ripples oddly - almost like water flowing down from his shoulders in a waterfall in a deep blue. His head is crowned with what can only be described as blue-dyed hair spiked and pulled back into a ponytail that has some of the substance braided into it, making it all look like one coherent piece that moves as he moves and flows as he flows. A mask of tangled green, more than likely seaweed, hides his eyes from view.
Late for the costume contest, apparently. Ah well.
"Hey, it's alright," Monica says with a smile, as she settles into a dancing position, "Dancing's one of the few things that can still be fun whether you're-" wait, better word "-practiced or not." Of course, she's leaving out the part where she's actually a really good dancer, thanks to her ability.
Luckily for Nick, the dancing doesn't last very long, given that the music cuts out and all. But Monica looks toward Melissa and she glances over toward Delia as she's pointed out, too. And she even claps!
As the person he was talking to walks off, Jareth appears mildly vexed, and strolls towards the nearest wall. He approaches, then walks perpendicularly up the wall, a door appearing in front of him. He passes through the door, and both disappear.
If one could see the blush underneath all of the paint Delia's entire body would be covered in it. Getting up slowly from her position on the dance floor (helped up by the security guy that she bumped into) the young woman just stammers, "I uhm.. oh god cash! I think I dropped all my money…" Her dad's money or someone else's. But she can't exactly bend over to pick it up, if she dropped it at all.
Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she's ushered toward the Mistress of Pain by the very same bouncer and she turns toward the audience with a smile… and an accidental wave that gives everyone another good show.
The beak-masked man gives a bow to the skull-masked woman, and then claps for the contest winners. "Those people have some balls — er, you know, I think only one literally, but it's hard to tell under that gown. I'm impressed," he says mildly, then arches a brow that goes unseen behind his mask at the man walking up the wall and through a door. "You know, a few years ago I'd have thought someone slipped something in my pint. Crazy world."
Belatedly addressed by the bird-woman, Ygraine was turning back to look at her when Delia took a tumble and the spot-light hit her. Too late to help up the fallen woman, she opts instead to try to snare the attention of a bar-tender, and order a replacement drink for her, between joining in the applause.
The Water Elemental, Jaiden, looks around the room to see if Delia can be seen - and boy can she! He joins in with the applause, making his way across the floor, seemingly unconcerned that his only adornment is a loincloth and a mask of seaweed.
"I've heard this story before." Delilah steps forward when he steps back, leering at him from behind the boar mask. Her words catch on her throat, low in volume but enough so that he hears her. Bosom fluttering with awkward breath, Delilah's free hand moving to catch his arm cuff. "I know he is. And I'm pretty damn sure I know why, now-"
She abruptly regains a moment of sanity when Rhys is so bold as to put himself in the middle of everything. Thank goodness for Gaga kid. Who has also apparently won a contest in the same instance. Delilah lifts her chin, the tusks following into a much less threatening angle. "Really. I've had it up the cooch with people being all- mysterious as shit. Why can't anyone just- say what they mean, anymore?" The redhead crosses her arms over her chest, words petering out and face under the mask quite frustrated. She's not in the mood for these things- it shows.
Raquelle is at the bar. Ordering a vodkatini.
Kendall pulls out a small piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket, and scribbles something down, and then looks up with a mask on his face. His transparency wears off, and his feet are firmly on the ground as he waits for Melissa to leave the stage. "Special show?"
Blue eyes grow wide as Rhys realizes that the spotlight is on him. His lips part, brows raise and his focus on the Shadow turns entirely away as a smile begins dawning on his face. "I won?" is breathily whispered in partial misunderstanding by Rhys, cheekc coloring further as he lays a sequin-laden gloved hand to his chest. "Oh— my God, I won?" Practically glittering as much as his bodysuit is, Rhys realizes a moment too late that he was in the middle of performing an inquisition on the Shadow.
Turning sharply, all he sees is the flourish of a black and red cape, followed by the man in the wide-brimmed hat making his exit for the stairs out of the club. "Oh son of a bitch," Rhys hisses as he turns to Delilah. "Darling I'm real sorry but can you tell them to hold my — "
He's gone. A moment in time Rhys Bluthner is there, and then he's simply gone in mid sentence, clipped like an edit from a movie out of the stream of time and likely snatched up by Hiro Nakamura. Whether anyone will be expecting a silver-sequined Lady Rhys appearing before them is another matter entirely. But both the wig-laden young man and his mysterious counterpart are both exiting in different speeds and manners.
Up the stairs and towards the door, the Shadow moves to make his hasty exit, this meeting not having been as necessary as he'd imagined, or as well thought out.
Delia gets a grin as she approaches the stage, then Melissa looks towards Rhys, waiting on him. Until…he disappears. "Well, I guess Gaga doesn't want his half of the money. It's all yours, Bird-lady!" And when Delia gets up to the stage, two hundred bucks is handed over. She's rich! Except, not.
"And now, the big show for the evening. Two very talented evolved have agreed to share their abilities with us for something a little different. So…enjoy!" A smile, and the spotlight goes dark, cueing the two performers to begin!
"Me too. Some people really go all out for these things." Monica does look toward the man walking up walls and she smirks a little. "Yeah, it's funny to think about a time when things were actually shocking." Ahh, the good old days. And there's people disappearing… and she doesn't even seem to blink. It is a strange time indeed.
The spotlight draws Jaiden's attention to the stage and to Delia, the man wandering over to almost rest a hand on her shoulder, instead giving her a little splash of water on the side of her neck where the paint won't wash away. "Congratulations." He says, just over the din of the crowd. "Sorry I'm late. Getting into this bloody costume was tough. My paint booth will never see such sights again, I think."
The mention of talented evolved gets his attention, and Jaiden looks over at the stage, and then the missing man that was in the spotlight. Dammit, he wanted to talk to him.
If Delia had thought her costume out a little bit better she'd be able to jump up and down with the excitement she feels at this very moment. Unfortunately, she's a little too under dressed to act the part of a cheerleader. Accepting the money in one hand, she takes a deep breath and grins from ear to ear. "Oh god, I'm rich!!" Whoever doesn't think $200 is a lot of money just hasn't tried living the way she's been.
Jaiden's hand on her shoulder prompts her to start in a semi panic before she realizes who it is, and he's a little more bare skinned than she is. "Wow… Maybe I should split this with you?"
If the strangers hadn't made her get so shot up with adrenaline, this might be hilarious for Delilah. Or maybe she is just having- one of those days. She sighs to herself not long after the boy disappears, her suspicions about where he has gone fed too well by the ominous words of the other one before him. Delilah sidles away from other people amidst the crowd, aiming herself to find an empty seat along the wall. When she finally does, one hand goes up to shift her mask from face; her other goes up under it to rub defiantly at her eyes.
She came to get away from thinking too much about everything, and got nothing of the sort. Just one of those days, yeah.
As the two Evolved are introduced for their show, the first steps out onto the stage. Her outfit consists of an aqua-colored strapless gown, covered in peacock feathers in a large swirl near the bodice, that traipse down the dress in separate pieces that almost looks like drops of water from a distance. Her face is covered with a light blue-and-silver mask, swirling designs covering the top of it and coming out onto one side then curving back in, like a wave crashing into itself. It's Nadira, but she's had an entirely different costume change—mostly so as not to be recognized as the bartender.
As she steps forward, she raises her hand as if conducting a symphony, and there's a whoosh through the crowd. Droplets of water fly through the crowd, spattering and reforming off of whatever they might hit, moving against costume and skin as they race towards the stage, giving people the sensation of the water? but it doesn't stay and they'd find the spot just as dry as it was before. The water races to the stage, droplets converging into a wave that crashes down onto the stage, only to have the water seem to sink into the stage itself and disappear.
"Gonna grab another beer," Nick murmurs to Monica, moving through the dance floor's throng of people now watching the stage. He has to duck his head just so to make sure not to poke anyone in the head with his beak. Once at the bar, he finds a stool to rest on, eyes sweeping the myriad of costumed spectators more than they watch the "show" itself — Abby was here; is it possible Eileen would come to such an event? She knows both Abby and Melissa, after all. He orders a beer from the bartender not on the stage, taking another swallow.
Jaiden leans down whisper something in Delia's ear before straightening and shaking his head in the negative at her offer to split the money with him. "Nah hang on to it. You need it. I don't." It's not that he couldn't use $200, but he doesn't need $200, if that makes sense.
His attention turns to the stage and, as the blue-dressed evolved steps out and sends her shower of water over the crowd, Jaiden, knowing the danger of water and paint on skin, deftly flicks the droplets aside with a small sweep of his hand, the water merging into his cloak seamlessly.
The second performer steps out, in her black steampunk outfit she had been wearing out on the floor, having not had the forethought to bring two costumes for the evening. A hand is held out, glowing for a moment as she turns towards the back of the stage. The light that remains in the room dims even further, a hand clutched into a fist as a bright ball of light slowly floats up from the floor, shimmering brilliantly as it drifts towards the centre of the stage, flooding tehr oom with bright white light.
And in a moment later, the light has shifted, suddenly, to a similarly bright green hue, a emerald glow falling over the room as Quinn grins. She draws her hand back in and clasps it tight together. The sphere shifts to blue, timed with the opening of her hand, and the scattering of numerous motes of light into the audience, like small little multi coloured faeries floating out amongst the people.
Monica nods to Nick, giving him a little wave as he heads to the bar. She lingers there on the dance floor, though, watching the show. She doesn't have any oos and ahhs, but she does watch with an appreciative smile.
"…what the hell…" Raquelle watches from where he leans, sipping his drink and arching an eyebrow.
Kendall spots his boss and makes his way over to Raquelle, still looking like Casper with a white mask. "Nice, er, costume?" he tells him. You're supposed to flatter bosses, right?
After the shock of the water-spray, a wry smile curls Ygraine's lips in response to Quinn's contribution, the Briton rather amused to see some of the fruits of her training quite so publicly put on display. Shifting position, she props herself against wall and bar in combination, watching the show over the heads of those in front of her, half her attention going on tracking the motes among the audience.
Nadira raises her hands again, as if to drive the water up and out, and out comes the water, shaped in the form of a chinese dragon, which proceeds to slither through the air, maw opening to try and snap light motes up into it.
The water show so close to her has Delia squealing and cringing underneath her feather/cape type thing for fear of losing what little cover she has. Stepping a little closer to Jaiden, there's a mix of fear and awe expressed on her features, because of the paint thing. When she sees that Jaiden's isn't washing off, she relaxes just a little bit and breathes a long sigh of relief, finally begining to enjoy the show as the lights start.
The dragon earns a gasp and the young woman actually ducks as it flies out over the audience. "Oh my god! Did you see that?! Holy crow!!"
Melissa makes her way through the crowd, heading back towards the bar. She glances back often though, to get glances at the show going on, but she waits until she can sit down before actually watching, and cheering right along with the rest of the crowd at the display of water and light.
Raquelle just gives Kendall a look, head tilting to the side as he looks the young man over with a thoughtful expression. "…not everything someone wears is a costume Casper…" He makes his guess with a soft chuckle and his attention is quickly drawn back to the dragon made out of water and all those dramatics as well and he takes a slow sip of his drink, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to have to get used to this…"
Grinning at the sight of the dragon, Quinn makes a turning moition with her hand, giving the flowing water dragon two bright, glowing yellow eyes, and with an exaggerated flourish, coloure ripples back across it, painting the water a bright red colour. Anyone up close to her might catch her gritting ehr teeth a bit, but the show goes on.
"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle,," Nick murmurs to Melissa from beneath his mask, tipping his head to speak to her quietly. The French accent is good; like his American, generic and not placeable as belonging to any particular region, but yet authentic. "You look lovely. Can I purchase you a drink?" He continues with the French accent, though he swaps to English. "Talented young women," he adds, with a nod toward the women on the stage creating the light and water magic.
Kendall turns to stare at the dragon appearing in midair, and the disco lights. "Awesome!" he enthuses, then smiles innocently at Raquelle. "Well your current outfit does seem to fit in with other things you've worn previously." he remarks. With innocence. Innocently.
The french greeting has Melissa glancing at Nick, her head tilting as she tries to place him. The compliment of the performers has her grinning and nodding. "Yeah, they are. Was lucky to convince them to do this tonight. It's amazing. And a hell of a lot better than what they've got in Vegas. Do I know you? Your voice sounds a little familiar." But without seeing the face, the voice is just nagging at her memory. "But not much point in buying me a drink. I get 'em free. You can sit and have one with me though."
It's not magic when you can do it, but damn if it's not impressive to see. Jaiden decides to have a little fun - not by spoiling the dragon, but by taking part in the show. "Watch this." He says with a smile.
In Jaiden's hand, a ball of water slowly forms, growing arms, legs, and a head…armor plates made of water form and, after a moment, standing in his hand is the perfect miniature of the stereotypical samurai, perhaps eight inches tall. "Off with you." He lowers the little samurai to the floor who starts to toddle across the floor towards the stairs that lead up to the stage.
As usual when she's on her own, Monica sort of slinks off to the side to observe. She's a great observer, this one. And this wall over here seems to need her shoulder to hold it up. But she watches the performance with a broad smile, whistling a bit for the appearance of the dragon.
As the Samurai makes it to the stage, Nadira peers downwards slightly, hands still moving as if to manipulate the dragon, then her hands drop… but the dragon continues on it's own. She bends down, as if to have a conversation with the Samurai, then proceeds to pick the little guy up, hold him aloft ala Lion King, where the water-dragon proceeds to swim through the air over and offer its back to the Samurai to ride on. Nadira takes a deep breath in, and then the dragon opens its mouth as if to roar, 'fire' made of water coming out of it's mouth and blowing as if at the audience, though the water never touches anyone, and disappears into the air once the dragon's done blowing 'flame'.
Kendall notices people in the crowd joining in with the show, so he slips away from Raquelle and goes to claim a corner so he can draw in peace since everyone else is watching the show. Therefore, when the water dragon breathes 'fire' and then disappears, some of that fire lingers in the air and turns into seemingly real fire that turns into an identical dragon that mimics the movements of the water one.
"Non, I am just in town for a few days and saw the annonces for the event and thought I would come. I did not have very much time to gather a costume for the masquerade, so I apologize for my banal appearance. Not all of us can be as charming as you, mademoiselle," the Interpol agent murmurs.
Nick lifts his glass of beer and shakes his head. "No, thank you, but if I can not buy you a drink, then perhaps a dance when the spectacle is over, non? Unless you must work."
"Oh wow, look at that!" Melissa says, looking highly impressed. Then she glances at Nick and grins, going from impressed to amused. "Charming? This costume is heavy. Hard to be charming. But we can dance, yeah. I like dancing. And glad you came. The more the merrier." She offers her hand. "I'm Melissa."
Tiny samurai, the most precocious warlord ever, waves his tiny sword with what could be easily be seen as joy from his mount on the back of the dragon, the water kind of melding together so he won't fall off during the fire breathing. And even during the fire breathing he points his sword, giving targets almost.
When the flame dragon appears, Tiny Samurai cringes but saddles himself bravely and points toward the fire dragon. Dance Dance Dance!
Jaiden's hand, for those that are looking, is palm up, fingers wiggling slightly as he controls the little samurai.
Quinn's feeling a bit outmatched all of a sudden, prompting the Irish woman to turn back to the glittering ball of blue light, causeing it to break apart into more motes of light rather violently, scattering them outwards wider than before. Grinning, she hoplds her hand up, opening and closing it in random succession, and with each one a burst of coloured light originates from around the dragon, forming a series of rings around the cloating water creature.
Eyes wide with amazement, Delia's just shaking her head as the air seeps out of her lungs in a near silent whoosh. She smiles up at Jaiden, then her eyes flit to watches the light and the dragon and of course the little samurai.
If she could clap, she might, but there's the problem of her costume.
And there's the water dragon, moving about still, though it rears back a little as it notices the other dragon, Nadira's own eyebrows raising. Well, this was unexpected. The water dragon moves, swim-flying through rings of different colors of light, seeming to keep a careful eye on the other dragon.
This… is getting distinctly unusual. Ygraine glances down at her glass, shakes her head, then chuckles and settles down to watch the remainder of the show….
The flame dragon has taken notice of the little samurai, so naturally flies forward to do battle with it. It seems to be an even fight, with the flame dragon flying around the water dragon without even creating steam, and it darts in once in a while to attempt an attack on the tiny warlord. Kendall, having already drawn the picture he needed, sits back and watches in satisfaction.
"Melissa," Nick repeats, the i getting much more of an ee sound so that it becomes Mel-ees-a. "I am Jean-Pierre." It's the name on his passport for his French persona, Jean-Pierre Ducolumbier. His eyes move from her to the stage again, and he lifts the beer to his lips to drain the glass slowly. No oohs or ahhs from the stoic Frenchman, it seems, though he does set his glass down to clap when the applause swells.
"Jean-Pierre? Weird. You don't look like a Jean-Pierre. Brings a different kind of frenchman to mind," Melissa admits, gaze split between Nick and the show. "But nice to meet you, Jean-Pierre. And I think the show's nearly done, so we can get that dance in a minute," she says, turning to motion to a bartender for a drink. By now they all know her preferences. It's good to keep the boss happy!
Quinn grins a bit as the display continues, the rings of light fading from view. This is a dragon, and we have a samurai… clearly, they must be in the land of the rising sun! As if on cue with that though, a brilliant half ball of light appears amidst the stage, shining outwards brilliantly like a miniature sun.
Tiny Samurai's Tiny Sword lashes out at the fire dragon, the watery blade hissing as it gets close to the flickering skin, but not touching. It's like a Noh play, where the movements are practiced and even, the fights vicious-looking but the blades never get anywhere near the opponents. Pantomime with sharp edges.
The motes of light accumulate and swell, and after a moment, rising from the stage in perfect miniature is a kimono-clad princess, her head turned to watch the combat, her tiny hands clenched together in what can only be worry as she watches her hero fight the watery dragon, the lights illuminating her, making her seem like a china doll.
The samurai strikes the flame dragon with his sword, and it finally gets annoyed. It flies down low to the ground, and to keep with the japanese theme, a horned oni made out of earth pulls itself out of the ground and climbs aboard. The flame dragon flies back up, bringing its oni up to do battle with the samurai with its claws. Someone needs to be willing to kidnap the princess, after all.
Gripping the money tightly in her hand, Delia continues to watch the show with a slight smile on her face. Every once in a while she looks up at Jaiden and it brightens a little before she looks back at the dragons and lets loose a long sigh. "Jaiden, I think I'm ready to go home now… It's been a pretty long night."
One where she got naked and flashed and won enough money to buy groceries for four months!
"I don't look like a Jean-Pierre?" Nick echoes with some amusement, and a shake of his long-beaked mask. "Ah, but mademoiselle, you have not seen my face. It may be the epitome of a Jean-Pierre, non? And it is just a name. I am sorry to ruin any expectations you might have had for such a name, however."
This feels like a bad idea. He hadn't planned on talking this much, and he knows the longer he does, the more likely it is he'll slip up.
The water dragon carries Tiny Samurai towards the battle, diving towards it in an attempt to crash right into it. It's an epic finale as the Water Dragon and its Tiny Samurai proceeds to plunge into the other dragon with a 'crash'.
"Well you could fix that and take the mask off. Mine's off," Melissa says, tossing a grin towards Nick. "And look, dragons go boom. Well, splash. Music will be starting up in a minute. Thus, dancing. We'll see if you dance like a Jean-Pierre or…I don't know. A Jean-Claude? Francois? And that officially goes through my list of French guy names."
The fire dragon also rushes towards the water dragon, and when they meet there is an explosion of fire, a wave of heat spreading throughout the area as the dragon is 'vanquished'.
With a chuckle, Monica claps for the show, whistling loudly at the explosion. "Very nicely done," she says mostly to herself. But she does enjoy the moment, as calm as her reaction is, of being in a place where something like this can be put on without… fear.
Tiny princess raises her hands and dissolves in a swirl of steam, the show over. Jaiden's hands drop and one goes around Delia's waist, careful of the body paint. "Let's go home."
As it all crashes together, there is an explosion of light to match, Quinn slouching back against the side of the stage as hundreds of little balls of light float down like a colourful rain on the audience, drifting slowly like leaves caught on the wind, before finally fading as they hit the ground or the people below.
Kendall leans against the wall when the dragon explodes, looking tired. His own illusion even slips a little, the mask disappearing briefly before reappearing. Between that, and Jareth earlier, and this, he's beat.
"Non… part of the allure of this event is le mystère, mademoiselle," 'Jean-Pierre' tells Melissa, as he applauds the two Evolved performance artists. Nick slips off the barstool and holds a hand out to Melissa. "One slow dance. I do not do this — how do you say — moshing? that you Americans do, Mel-ees-sa." Part of him feels a little bad for the performance he himself is giving, but then he's always acting on this foreign land — only a few moments of his life in the past few years have been authentic.
Applauding as she laughs, Melissa nods. "Yeah, that's fine. Slow dances are probably better right now anyway. Though there's no danger of blinding anyone now." She slides off her stool and takes Nick's hand. As the applause begins to die down someone cues the music and Mel starts out towards the dance floor for one dance before slipping out to get out of costume. She's got packing to do!
The water-wielding Nadira takes a bow, looking towards Quinn as she notes her lack of energy, and she moves to put an arm around her so that the other woman can bow as well. She'll get a drink and head home. Phew.
Tiny princess re-appears, as does Tiny Samurai, each giving a bow, tugging on Quinn and Nadira's costumes to get them to bow again before they vanish into thin air. Jaiden's shoulders slump as he rolls his head back and forth, the cape and headdress kind of wilting from the effort of it all. "Come on, Delia. Let's head home, yeah?"
When the music begins, the song is slow enough that the faux Frenchman can dance to it — which mostly consists of awkwardly holding Melissa and turning in slow circles — the scent of his rental coat probably helps to mask his own clean masculine scent, and the mask hides all but the lower bit of his jaw — though if she looks up just so, she might notice and recognize a scar that Nick has as well. When the song ends, he bows, careful not to take her out with the pointed nose of his mask, and murmurs a "Merci beaucoup," before moving away, disappearing into the throng.