siren's pull logs

the things we do in the city

god sent me an angel
Elaine Belloc athermercy wrote in sirenspull_logs
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Who: Morpheus, Elaine Belloc and YOU!
When: 29th-30th (starts around 6PM ends after the morning sirens).
Where: The Lux, Sector 3.
Summary: A Maker and an embodiment of Dreams invite the island into a seasonal Masquerade.
Warnings/Notes: Post your character own thread with the subjectline specifying places/time/any warnings, please! I feel if I do individual threads of places, those would get harder to keep up. Remember to keep it clean fun, because Elaine will interfere if someone is getting hurt. Mod the npcs at your leisure.

The description is in second person to get a fail general Sandmanish vibe. Your characters can obviously describe anything from their own perspective! They can access the second floor balconies, but the rooms will be sealed (Adam, Sam and whoever stays with Elaine in the Lux can come and go as they please, though). I think that's all. Read the ooc masq description for more details.

The Lux looks the same as always when you arrive; more lively, with a longer line of people, waiting to be allowed inside. The bouncers hulkier and they hold a pair of sizable muzzled wolves with their leashes. They are sedate for the most part, but occasionally they will howl and growl at people. Those people are not allowed inside.

They are bad news.

You wait and wait until the line cuts before you and you slip past the front door. At your left, there's the coatroom where a bandaged man politely asks for your coat. It's strangely silent for a party. The only noises in the air are made by the guests and the staff. And when you finally step forward you notice more gates in front of you. Large ones that look made of gold and gemstones. You might notice they are new if you ever visited the Lux before. Guarding these doors, there is a pale man and a woman greet you.

"Welcome," they say and they laugh sinisterly, "enter freely and for your own will."

They open the doors for you to a place that no longer looks like the Lux. It looks wider on the inside, with high balconies and an opulently decorated ballroom illuminated by floating candles.

And the music hits when you join the party. The tables are positioned far from the dancefloor, the personnel comes to serve the guests food, while others are dedicated to experiment with people's special requests with cackling glee.

At the back there is a stage with a phantasmal orchestra, formed by false haunts and a banshee. She sings an alluring tune without shrillness for all.

Under the shade of the stage, there is a large table -- your hosts are sitting on the middle of it. Elaine Belloc is as unrecognizable as the Lux. She wears no mask, but her body glows radiantly and resembles the vague outline of a young woman that contains the outer space filled with stars, planets and twirling nebulae. Morpheus is also unmasked, though his face is occasionally obscured by rising tendrils of living smoke, his body clothed in translucent veils of the stuff; billowing and drifting about his form like a pale, amorphous cloak that revealed as much as it shrouded.

"Tonight is a chance to look your fears boldly in the face...and laugh. If only just a little," he says. Probably to you. Maybe to someone else.

"I hope you enjoy yourselves," Elaine wishes warmly. A crosses her ethereal features as she smiles -- at you and everyone.

Wherever you are, you can hear their greeting.

Re: Will Graham.

[He'd spent time mingling among the guests, enjoying the company of masked women and men alike, but now was the time to pull himself from the crowds and say hello to an old friend. Dressed in a fairly simple black-and-white tuxedo with a tailcoat. He wouldn't have made much of a sight if it weren't for the way he held himself and the phantom's mask which he adorned, along with the carefully maintained sleek hair and french manicured nails. Lean, and perfectly groomed in his dark silk suit Hannibal proceeded to intercept the couple, but mainly sidled in front of Will once he found that the young girl on his arm was absent from his side.]

Good evening, Will.

Edited at 2011-11-10 06:54 am (UTC)

[Graham had been indulging himself at the 'punch bowl' when Lecter approached him and promptly soured his drink with his bitter presence. He had almost choked on the glass of port Dr. Seward had gotten him interested in. Lecter had a way of sneaking up on a person even in high alert.

His flank scar throbbed and he resisted the urge to touch it through his layers of fine-tailored cloth.]

Evening, Dr. Lecter.

[He soothed the urge to taste bile on his tongue with one last deep swig of his crystal glass. Graham's gaze was hallow, his lips, with what muscle-control he had, were unreadable. Secretly he was hoping Lecter would get his nightly jab at him and leave him to his misery quickly.

Graham knew he was being wistfully naive.]

[There was a glass of wine to accompany his own hand, though he was decidedly more picky than that of his younger counterpart. Unlike Will however he was never hurried, never rushed, and certainly never bothered by another's presence in such a demonstrative way. A measured stare is given before he lifts the glass casually to his treacherous mouth, lips touching just so he might taste the smooth yet complex flavour of Amarone. He was beginning to be impressed by the variety and quality of the drinks here.

But not quite.]

I see you're alone. Where is the young lady on your arm I saw you with earlier?

Edited at 2011-11-10 07:33 am (UTC)

[With European Male Model #1 and #2, he imagined. Graham wasn't the jealous type, but his baser instincts told him virile-wise he didn't stand up to the two men who had asked Himawari to dance before he could get his chance. He had been watching her weave elegantly through the carousel of people, hoping she would remember he existed, but it would be alright if she forgot.

At least the port had been good.

Graham looked past Lecter's shoulder, easily spying his date like a lovely red beacon on the foggy sea. He lifted his glass to gesture nonchalantly.]

With a.. friend of hers.

[Glancing then to Lecter's side, he too noticed it was empty of any other presence. As if the seas of people had parted solely for him, unworthy to stand in his personal space.]

Where's yours?

Edited at 2011-11-10 07:45 am (UTC)

Oh, I see.

[Beneath the porcelain white of his mask he seems to be calculating something, the blue contacts reflecting bits of maroon as he stares off for a moment to follow Will's gaze. He notes the bouncing curls from far off with a bit of a glimmer-eyed, mischievous look before moving in a little closer.]

Oh, I wouldn't worry about them if I were you. I think they're rather gay.

[Said so blatantly, and with a smile. Seems he finds this amusing that Will would even consider feeling threatened by them, as if it were a well-known tidbit all along.

Now, his voice takes on a little bit of a humorous tone as he replies:]

I'm afraid I wasn't gifted with an opportunity to ask such a fresh young thing to the party like yourself, Will. I'd consider myself lucky if I were you.

Edited at 2011-11-10 07:58 am (UTC)

[The calm cerulean of those contacts softened the blood of Lecter's often piercing scarlet gaze. He had been almost comforted by the sight if not for the small flash of their true hue with the hawk-like motion in which he turned his head.

Graham could hardly focus on it long enough when he pointed out the supposed orientation of the men who were "obviously" courting his date.]

I... what?

[He didn't want to know, he really didn't. Damn his mouth for being faster than his brain in this state.]

Wait, just.. nevermind.

[Diversion was the best tactic when dealing with Lecter. Never stay on the same subject or you'll be reeled in like a fly on a widow's web.]

I wanted to.. to thank you.. For putting me up to it.

[It was as much as he would admit. Without Lecter's push, as deceptive as it probably was, he would have never thought to ask Himawari in the first place.]

[He would've elaborated had the former profiler been interested, but he could see that that was not the sort of entertainment he was going for this evening. In fact, it was a wonder he'd somehow pulled Will out here at all, much less gotten him to let his guard down.

They'd yet to address the fact that they'd had such a history between them, but perhaps Will wasn't ready.]

You needn't think anything of it. I'm pleased that you're pleased.

[A mild wave of the hand as he let his half-emptied glass set onto the tray of a passing server, murmuring his thanks as the other passed, and slipping a tip into his jacket.]

Have you danced yet, Will?

[Casual talks like this made him wish he could go back. Go back before Lecter thought to palm that stiletto. Before Graham was put on the Ripper case. To his treatment in the wake of the Hobbs' case. When Dr. Lecter would sit him down in front of his desk and allow Graham a moment of solace.

Graham never factored in how long it had been between them. To him it was moments ago, but he had to keep reminding himself that things had changed.

They couldn't go back. And he had to harden himself to Lecter's deceptively comforting airs he seemed to secrete from his very pores. Like the sharp medicinal smell of ginseng and wet earth; a marine scent that reminded him of Baltimore's cold harbor.

Graham would already feel himself unwillingly unwinding just by standing in front of him without the plate glass to separate them.]

Not yet. It's been a while since my last party.

[It was graduation for his students at the FBI Academy. The small speckles of girls in his class would drag him out onto the dance-floor for one last chance to be 'teacher's pet'. He was awkward then. He would be awkward now.

He didn't compare his wedding reception to something like this.]

I can barely remember how to two-step.

Edited at 2011-11-14 03:52 am (UTC)

['..What a collection of scars you have. Never forget who gave you the best of them, and be grateful, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.' No, he much preferred it this way. To erase what has already transpired would cheapen the experience of their former friendship, as well as destroy the connection and strengths Will aspired to despite his resulting downward spiral into a drunkard with a mutilated face.

Hannibal rather thought the scar suited him. Gave him character. And he would've said so had the subject not been one of severe discomfort. For now he'd keep the distance and cordiality between them cool and distant, slightly aloof yet warm and inviting like the mentor Graham was very much familiar with.

As for this...Well, he was enjoying molding a one Will Graham untainted by the hard edges of the justice system. The jester led about by Crawford and the FBI like the court fool that he was. And now that he was no longer a sworn Agent of an institution who showed him very little courtesy, Lecter was free to help him interpret the world they'd managed to step into. But how would he craft a song and dance Will could move along to?]

I'm sure you'll get it. I could always show you if you like.

Edited at 2011-11-14 04:22 am (UTC)

Molly once tried to teach me to clog-dance. It didn't go over well.

[Graham had ended up on his ass in the sand of their backyard. His legs just didn't skip that way, but it was nice watching Molly in that 1960's skirt with that old Bluegrass playing. He probably couldn't compare the rural steps to something classy like the Minuet that painted the dancefloor in front of them. But Graham was sure he had lost his sense of rhythm (had he any before) as much as he had lost much of his style since his last public shaming.

At least someone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This soiree was practically designed for Dr. Lecter's ghastly tastes. His choice in dress hadn't escaped Graham's vivid eye. He wondered for a moment, with that half-mask that made-up the other side of his own.. if he were mocking Graham just by the premise that he was the other half to his whole.

'You caught me because we are very much alike.'

Lecter never waned from hammering that notion in. Much like how Molly had jokingly commented on Graham's 'criminal mind'. Or Crawford's suggestion that 'he thought like them'. The accusations stuck and made him want to hunker down even more than he had in the case that he might actually act on those words one day.

The sudden thought of bailing crossed his mind. But he wouldn't let Himawari be alone while Lecter was lurking, ever watchful. After a quick glance that she was still preoccupied with her 'friend' and showed no signs of parting from him anytime soon, Graham tried to excuse himself.]

I really.. really feel like some air actually, excuse me.


[His lips crease in a faint smile. To think of the former FBI agent dancing in wooden shoes was an image he found rather frivolous, if not faintly amusing. He'd look much better in a Tartan doing a Scottish Highland dance. More suiting to his ancestry, anyhow. Yet he needn't fault Graham for trying it under the influences he might have had then.

But the rhythms to a dance such as the Minuet were much easier to learn than the other might realize. He would help him to see that in time. He would help him cultivate what was lost and more. That is, if Graham was willing...

Piercing eyes followed where Graham's vision was leading him, and he knew that with the way his mind worked he was giving thought to shuffling out the back and abandoning his poor unwitting date. Had that happened Lecter would've stepped in to swoop her up, just like he predicted.]

I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the evening, Will. It'd be rather disappointing to a certain lady if you up and disappeared...

[There's a steady stillness in which he holds himself that communicates a silent warning, as though if the other were to depart for long then it could end badly for Will, or Himawari. He was staring very intently by the end of the other's sentence. Like a hawk staring down a field mouse. Dissecting him. A vivisection, as one might predict the doctor was capable of.]

Not a fan of crowds, hm? Neither am I.

Edited at 2011-11-19 05:09 am (UTC)


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