Costume Party in Honor of Lex Luthor's Birthday [OPEN]

[defenestration]

As stated on the invitation, Adrian is throwing a costume party to celebrate Lex's twenty-fifth birthday at the Luthor-Veidt Building in Brock Marsh. Everyone is welcome, whether they know Lex or not. There's plenty of food and free alcohol (mostly wine, fancy beer, and champagne), music and a space for dancing, and room to mingle and make new friends. Some simple and classy decorations, purple of course, have been put up on the first and second floors to create a festive atmosphere.

(A note to those who might try to take the opportunity to go snooping: security is insanely tight. The elevators will not go beyond the first and second floors without a special code, and there's an elevator operator who is very obviously there to make sure you don't try anything funny. The stairwells are likewise under guard and the private areas of the first floor are locked and under camera surveillance.)



[ooc: Please wait until a few threads are set up before tagging! Party time! Everyone is welcome!

Note: I've turned off notifs so if you need my attention in a specific spot, please PM or plurk me.]

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Arrivals

[defenestration]

As you enter the building's vestibule, you're likely to be met by Aimery, who has a collection of masks at the ready should you happen to arrive sans costume. Adrian is also probably close by, at least at the early part of the evening, playing host.

[goodeintentions]

Aimery had dressed as the masked man that had saved him a few weeks before, a fitting role for him considering he was playing protector of the party in some ways. Adrian had helpfully supplied the hero's name: Ozymandias. He thought his rendition of the costume was poor and far too heavy, but he liked to think that he managed to pull off looking properly heroic, proud, and set a good first impression of his employers. He had the hair and chin for it, at least, even if he felt scrawny in comparison.

He didn't manage to greet every single guest individually, especially when Adrian was taking over and when his duties took him elsewhere, but he certainly tried to be friendly and welcoming when he did. Aimery had acquired quite a number and variety of masks to let guests without costumes use, all displayed on a table off to the side of the room so that people could see what was on offer. Said table was also where he stowed presents for safe keeping —discreetly, underneath the table once the guest had passed so as not to make anyone feel self conscious about their lack of a present or compare theirs to others— until he had a spare moment to move them away to safety in another room.

[OOC: Probably don't even need to specify this but it just in case: it is totally okay to handwave that Aims gave your character a mask if they need one or put away their present, we don't have to thread it.]

[captaincocksure]

James T. Kirk, Captain and Commanding Officer of the USS Enterprise, the Federation's flagship, arrives with all the confident bearing and assured smiling that one expects from a man of his rank and accomplishments. He may be young, but he's a man that wears authority and responsibility well.

Too bad it's not showing quite so much, at the moment.

Dr. McCoy, please do remember your captain apologized ahead of time.

For the captain has arrived wearing the back end of a pantomime horse costume. Just the back end, the suspenders strapped over his shoulders. There's no front end, no accompanying other half. Just him. Dressed like the back end of a horse.

Let the trolling begin.

[ironshodboots]

Nazca makes quite an entrance, even if no one will recognize her as a contrarequialla here. She's wearing a tight black shift without sleeves, and a black cloth around her hips, her long legs bare. Her curls are tied back in a bright red bandana, and brass and silver bangles clink where they've been woven through her hair. A small double-headed axe and a javelin are strapped to her back, and her hands are clad in small, supple leather gloves.

She's hard to miss, especially if you've never seen a professional sharkfighter's getup before.

Nazca's glad Gabriel has come along as a friend; costume aside, she's mainly here for business purposes, but that doesn't mean she won't be glad for his conversation.

[mirrorswillfall.livejournal.com]

Penelope hadn't had a really solid idea of what to wear to this highfalutin shindig, until she had taken some time to reflect upon her current situation in Baedal and exactly how her life had taken a turn for the unexpected.

Thus, she swans into the building dressed as an Angry Princess (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=37729185), all in black, severe makeup cementing her face in a pissed-off scowl, which honestly improves her appearance to a startling degree. Or maybe it only looks that way, because it's the face she's usually making anyhow, and everyone's just used to it.

On her arm (figuratively, not literally, because unfortunately she does not row that boat) is the lovely Ruby, who is being dragged along because Penelope wants to throw her at Asbjoern and see what happens. Something interesting is going to happen at this party, if she has to throw her drink in someone's face to make it happen, dammit.

"Oh wow, check out all the people," she mutters to her companion. "Did not expect there to be so many. But I guess the invitation was pretty much citywide, huh."

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Hellboy had initially been dubious about the whole "costume party" idea. Not only was the guest and venue way out of his usual class range -- and never mind that he's technically royalty, as he really tries not to think about it -- but what kind of costume can a guy who already looks like he's wearing a costume get?! Still, he'd decided to give it a try and went to a costume shop to see what was available.

As it happened, the shop he went to was run by someone who was dedicated to her craft, and his chance chuckle at a nearby foam-runner Boris Karloff Frankenstein mask set her off on a frenzy. Some custom alterations to the mask, some prosthetics and makeup to change the shape and color of his arms, and the right clothing, and she'd managed to make him a most unorthodox Frankenstein, indeed. She'd even adapted the design so that the sword on his back wouldn't look out of place, since he was certainly not going to leave that at home.

It's not entirely perfect: the tops of his horn stumps make the forehead of the mask protrude just a little, and the makeup work could do only so much to disguise his Right Hand as being different from his left. Still, it was plenty good enough, and wasn't cheap to boot, so he wasn't going to let it go to waste. He arrives at the party unaccompanied, and takes a good look around from the vestibule before venturing in to mingle.

[wandandsickle]

Jones has never been one much for parties, let alone costume parties. Last time she'd had to go to one she'd gone as the Proletariat; at this one it wouldn't be quite so topical, though, and she'd not had a chance to find out how the costume went over, since things had been... interrupted.

So she figured, well, why not dress in the garments of her people. It takes on a bit of a costumey quality anyway, the sterotypical garb of the Moros. She arrives in a long, fluttery black dress and a black mask that covers the upper half of her face and stands by the wall, looking kind of uncomfortable.

The Lobby

[defenestration]

The Lobby of the Luthor-Veidt building is a mixture of the original architectural style and modern glass and cool colors in its decor, although if you look carefully you'll see hints of medieval and ancient Egyptian design as well. The reception desk has been turned into an open bar, and catering employees move through the crowd to offer drinks and hors-d'ouevres. An area off to one side has been designated as a small dance floor, and an eclectic music mix (with an occasional rather 80s feel to it) is being piped in.

[alan_shore]

Somewhere in the crowd, likely nearer to the bar than the dance floor, a vine twines daintily around a champagne flute. The tendril (one of several, all of which seem to move with preternatural grace, occasionally in time with the music) leads to one Alan Shore, who will be passing the evening in the guise of one half of the Vegetable Lamb of Tartary. He's dressed in a suit--a leaf, impossibly verdant, protrudes from the breast pocket--and for the most part succeeds in conducting himself as if wholly accustomed to playing host to a multitude of leafy limbs.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

Charles and Raven are dressed as Hansel and Gretel (http://www.fashionica.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/Se_main2.jpg), complete with candy in Charles' pocket should they need to use it as a prop. They have also brought their own masks, Raven's (http://cn1.kaboodle.com/hi/img/2/0/0/15e/e/AAAAAtIu6t8AAAAAAV7qVg.jpg) being suitably more elaborate in comparison to Charles' (http://pilgrimagedesign.com/devil%20and%20demon%20masks/Resources/v1lgc.jpeg) angular design. They were also kind enough to provide Erik a mask (http://www.caufields.com/productimages/Halloween/Mask/Images/54908.jpg), whether or not he wears it is up to him, but it got them through the door.

Once inside each person is free to wander or stick to the group as they please. Charles being Charles gravitates toward the open bar.

[manipulativni.livejournal.com]

Katherine's acquired a flute of champagne for herself - she may start on the stronger stuff later on, but for the time being she wants to be alert, and her metabolism is strong and quick enough that champagne doesn't effect her much, if at all. She's dressed as a 1920s flapper (http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lscr67Lci61qgigt3o1_500.png), having found both a wig and dress similar to the ones she had decades ago. Combined with a bit of period-appropriate jewelry, shoes, and make-up, they made a perfect costume for the party. (She just hopes that this one doesn't end with her being shut away in a tomb.)

[manyshapes.livejournal.com]

Raven has made a beeline to the designated dance floor, and although she recognizes almost none of the music, that doesn't mean it can't be danced to. It's not so loud that she can't hear conversation, though, and she'll definitely dance with anyone who wants to join her.

Between the extremely realistic-looking red hair and the mask (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=37689817), she may not be instantly recognizable to those who already know her, either.

[goodeintentions]

Aimery was instructed to have fun since it was a party, but his forays away from the vestibule consisted mostly checking in on various things, making sure everyone was having fun in a safe fashion, that the caterers were doing their jobs, etc. Sometimes he managed to relax and have a chat, even had himself a slice of delicious cake, but never managed to linger too long before he saw someone spill something —he tried to be discreet with his usage of his power when that happened, covering his hand with a napkin to hide it as he cleaned up— or lighting up a cigarette and needing to be told to take it outside.

Until later in the evening, that was, when he figured his task as greeter was finished and he had more freedom. By then he'd tired of his breastplate and abandoned it upstairs in his room; as much as he liked appearing as if he had that kind of fine muscle structure, he didn't have that kind of muscle structure and it wasn't worth carting it around. Once he could move properly, Aimery got to socializing properly between 'work' as well- having some cake, working his way through a few glasses of champagne for himself, even dancing a little (on the dance floor, of course) when a song he recognized came on.

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

Boromir has come dressed in a rather sharp, dovetail grey suit because that is a novelty outfit for him, and because he's not one to turn down a lady's request. Either of them: Ilde knows better about clothes than he ever will, and Ava so nicely told him that he should come along.

But he hasn't yet gone to the bar to order a vodka martini --instead he took a glass of what was being offered by the catering staff and is now admiring the little hints of medieval design here and there.

He's still very much recognisable, but anyone who knows him might do a double-take.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

Njoki has been to enough work functions where she doesn't know everyone that she has some practice mingling with a crowd of relative strangers and seems comparatively comfortable standing near the bar and making small talk. Those that do know her ought to find her easy to recognize, since her mask (http://www.cartaalta.com/venetian_masks/barocco_masks/46-mask_colombina_barocco_grifone_white.jpg) really doesn't do much to hide her identity.

[im_apimp]

Alec isn't entirely sure what he's doing here. He doesn't know the guy, but an opportunity is an opportunity. It's not necessarily the party atmosphere that he's questioning -- it's the costumes.

Ordinaries, man.

But rather than stand out, he dressed up. He dressed up with Max of all people, but he's not going to complain -- would you complain if your date was dressed like a belly dancer?

He didn't think so. He's just not going to actually verbalize that. He's wearing a fez and poofy pants. He thinks he's suffered enough.

"So," he sighs as he shifts to lean against the bar. "Why are we here again?"

[For Max.]

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

Asbjørn may not know the person doing the inviting, but that doesn't mean he's going to turn down a party. And he's sociable enough with the rest of his cohort that he does know a fair number of the people here.

That means he can be found chatting to old friends and making new ones while steadily becoming more acquainted with the drink trays of the catering staff. His costume is more or les non-existant, despite a rather thoughtful choice in mask (http://www.polyvore.com/bleeding_on_ballroom_floor/set?id=37673666). He has his reasons, though. Not that he'd be willing to tell the truth to most people here.

[desert-bloomed.livejournal.com]

Amalia enters on Balthier's arm, looking around to get her bearings a little too quickly. The last thing she wants to seem at a party is harried and paranoid, but the past several weeks in and out of the fog has done a number on her nerves. The hum of people talking over the noise of music calms her, though. This is a sound she knows well.

In no time, she is Amalia no longer. Ashelia stands there now, posture just as hard and severe as the sky pirate's, but filled somehow with a commanding power Amalia wants for. Even though the elaborate mask on her face stays the same and the dress, all dramatic curves and lacy bodice, changes not one bit, the woman wearing them is undeniably different.

The Queen smiles, head held high. "I thirst. Shall we to the tap?"

[deservesadaisy]

Ivan is not going to let the current mood of the city keep him home, especially not when he's trying to get more information about that mood. He's hungry, but he's sure of his control, and there's too much at stake to miss this.

He's all in black, with a red mask reminiscent of fire. (A bit of a nod to recently being sprayed in the face with holy water, perhaps; Ivan's sense of humor is a bit skewed.) He moves through the crowd, somewhat aloof but not entirely apart.

The Second Floor

[defenestration]

The elevators will take you to the second floor, where the hallway and two large guest suites have been opened up salon-style. The caterers have set up tables there -- one table features a multitude of delicious cakes -- and there's furniture to sit and converse in. This is also where you'll find the bathrooms should you need them. The decor is less modern than the first floor, and all extremely tasteful. There's a subtle theme of purple hinted at but it succeeds in not being overwhelming. The music here is softer so as not to impede conversation.

(Adrian and Lex have offices on the second floor. However, they are locked up tight and guests should not attempt to access them.)

[xenophilius]

A tall figure, made taller for the worryingly life-like sheep's head worn like a hat atop white-blonde head, is standing by the food with two picks worth of olives, ham, cheese held in both hands and fingers curled around a half-empty champagne glass as well. Xeno Lovegood is wearing a long coat made entirely of wool, long enough that it gathers around his feet, and there's a sheep-like tail sewn on at the appropriate location. He also has a tweed waistcoat drawn over the top, as he is the sheep half of the Vegetable Lamb of Tartary.

"But my great aunt was said to have grown at least two veggie lambs," he's enthusing. "She was a wonderful herbologist, you know. I went to the highlands last spring to find some cuttings to take home, but I think the winter might have been particularly terrible that year because sheep did not seem to be in bloom at all, despite all the rumours."

His hat regards the ceiling, and says baaaa in a guttural and strangely realistic manner.

[ OOC: Do you want to be the one being talked at? Then let it be you. WE DON'T EVEN HAVE TO KNOW EACH OTHER. ]

[rhinemaid]

Tonight isn't going to involve much drinking for Ilde (her attention is prone to wandering enough without adding alcohol into the mix); she acquires a (weak) brandy alexander downstairs, circulates and observes as she's generally wont to do, and eventually drifts upstairs to the quieter salon where she can find herself a place to sit and watch and talk. A little less inclined to get falling down drunk in a gown she quite likes, her quieter tendencies settle at the fore and her mildly disquieting tranquillity isn't anything out of the ordinary to anyone familiar with her. Her mood is still breezily affable, and she's as interested in people she doesn't know as people she already does.

The Birthday Boy

[patricide]

Lex has come to the party dressed as Alexander the Great, an appropriate costume to those who know him well. As the man of the hour, he's doing his best to mingle, moving from room to room, available for introductions and birthday wishes.

WAIT I'M DUMB

[last-libertine.livejournal.com]

While Evan doesn't have the slightest clue who Lex is, he's observant enough to realize that the way Lex interacts with various people at the party means he's the guest of honor. Given the admirable decor, attractive party-goers, and festive atmosphere, Evan is naturally inclined to think well of Lex even without any personal knowledge of the man — who is, after all, dressed as Alexander the Great, a sign of good taste in Evan's book. In any case it would be polite to at least wish him well, because that limerick he handed Aimery is truly awful.

So, at a proper interval, he pauses while passing Lex and leans just a smidgin closer than appropriate given their mutual lack of acquaintance and his own state of partial undress. "Happy birthday, Mr. Luthor," he says very earnestly, taking a quick sip from his drink. "I wish you well on all your conquests."

The Host

[defenestration]

Adrian is making the rounds throughout the party, and he's pretty easy to spot -- those with a knowledge of Earth history (or Earth film) will recognize him as Ramesses, his costume reminiscent of Yul Brynner's role in The Ten Commandments -- although with purple in place of the blue. Instead of the headdress, however, he's sporting a gold Uraeus diadem.

[last-libertine.livejournal.com]

The too-skinny-to-be-a-real-Spartan, though unacquainted with the gracious host, is open about appreciating Adrian's costume, or just Adrian, or whatever. It's more friendly than salacious. And, despite the number of drinks he's had, still alert and intelligent. Again, though he knows nothing of who Adrian is, the way other people react to him and the way Adrian himself acts are strong enough indications as to his role. In time, Evan takes advantage of a natural conversational lull to casually approach him.

"I really, really must thank you for a spectacular evening," he says, smile crooked and coy as it disappears briefly behind his drink. "I arrived yesterday with nothing. Tonight I drink with kings. For just one night, of course, but it'll live long in more than just my memory. Which is the point, of course, so... well done, and thank you."

[aviophobia]

"...attack monkeys." McCoy feels like it says something about this place, and possibly the fact that he's too goddamned adaptable to weird situations, that the idea of attack monkeys barely surprises him. It's more annoying than anything else.

At Gabriel's further confession, his eyebrows climb up. "It is extremely badly off if it's using watchmakers as medics. Delicate, precise work is one thing, but clockwork and people are two very different objects. I understand there's a couple of doctors in the city now, so with any luck, we won't need you again."

[aintwoundright.livejournal.com]

"Attack monkeys," Gabriel confirmed, "and it was bad. I would've said no to helping but there was one doctor in the inn with about twenty people laid out." He cants his head a little, eyebrows raised. "...I did stay out of the clinics and first aid stations the next time an attack rolled around."

He glanced over at McCoy. "Not that anyone should wind up here but I'm glad there are more doctors. We could use them. I know supplies and equipment are in short supply; I don't just build clocks. I'm good with a lot of things, big and small, complex or delicate, so if you guys need something made or repaired I might be able to help."