Adrian Veidt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
defenestration) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
multiversallogs2011-09-30 05:32 pm
defenestration) wrote in multiversallogs2011-09-30 05:32 pm
Entry tags:
- @ brock marsh,
- ava lockhart,
- charles xavier,
- hellboy,
- ilde decima,
- ivan,
- james t. kirk,
- jones,
- penelope lane,
- rachel conway,
- raylan givens,
- steve rogers,
- { boromir,
- { nazca barsavi,
- } adrian veidt,
- } aimery le gode,
- } alan shore,
- } alec mcdowell,
- } asbjørn strand,
- } ashelia b'nargin dalmasca,
- } balthier,
- } buffy summers,
- } cindy,
- } don draper,
- } erik lehnsherr,
- } evan rosier,
- } gabriel gray,
- } hamilton fish,
- } kate bishop,
- } katherine pierce,
- } leonard mccoy,
- } lex luthor,
- } lionel luthor,
- } max guevara,
- } njoki rainmaker,
- } raven darkholme,
- } ruby van alst,
- } shiori sakita,
- } xenophilius lovegood
Costume Party in Honor of Lex Luthor's Birthday [OPEN]
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.]
(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:
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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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.
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Fortunately, when Xeno collides into him, he only does so at a brisk walking pace, and takes most of the impact, bouncing back with a startle, cross-eyed gaze widening and refocusing on the masked visage of the-- man he's just run into. The subject of his preoccupation rests in his hands, as opposed to on his head -- his costume's hat, which is in fact a sheep's head, one of worrying realism that it sort of creaks a baaa as Xeno tries to muster apology.
And stops the start of his stammers, instead, tilting to the side to squint up at Hellboy, cleverly disguised as he is.
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So obviously the huge monster-man knows who Xeno is. Can he guess who it is?
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He straightens when his name is said in meerkat alertess, eyebrows arching before his eyes tick over where the horn stumps push against the mask. That and the sheer hulkingness of the man before him as well as his ability to occasionally be fiercely observant, like bright sparks in a sky of obliviousness, have a sudden, pleased grin split across Xeno's face.
"Hellboy! it is you, isn't it?"
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Somewhere through the crowd stands a relatively normal looking man in a suit of enchanted plant tendrils, and not unhappy about it.
"It's a species of magical plant -- grew in abundance in the highlands, once. thought it might be nice. And you are?" Not so well-versed on Muggle literature, unfortunately, or at least, not enough to be so to recognise the mask for what it's meant to connote.
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He chuckles, then straightens up to give Xeno a better look. "The outfit's mostly something the shop lady came up with," -- and Xeno may or may not be able to tell that the sword accompanying it is really real magic -- "but the mask is meant to be a version of Frankenstein's monster." After a moment, he adds, "Uh, which if you haven't heard of Frankenstein, it's 19th century fiction, about a scientist and the creature he brings to life from stitched-together corpses."
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"Frankenstein, right? From the old movie." He grins, eyes bright where they show through his mask--he's got his own costume on, Captain America, he figured it would do. "I saw that when I was a kid. I loved it."
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It's not easy for Hellboy to smile under the best of circumstances, and the mask certainly doesn't help any with that, but he hopes it carries well enough in his voice. "I like your costume, too. The style of it reminds me of an old friend."
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He smiles, glancing down at his uniform. "Thank you. Though I gotta ask--how does this remind you of your friend?" He's not sure how that would happen, unless this man is either from his own time, or for some inexplicable reason runs around dressed like a flag.
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The question takes him a moment to coalesce what had initially been an instinctual reaction. "The Torch of Liberty's outfit wasn't quite so on the nose, but it had a similar 'patriotic super-soldier' theme going on." He shakes himself out of his woolgathering. "Anyway, enough nostalgia. Name's Hellboy, and yes, it's my real name, which would be easier to explain without the mask on. This might help, though."
That's when his tail, which he'd been not quite entirely managing to hide in the tails of his coat, reaches up and over his shoulder. He points at it, wiggling its tip like it's waving at Steve, then extends his left hand to shake.
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"The 'Torch of Liberty', huh?" He smiles. "It's good I wasn't the only patriotic super soldier out there. Guess there was a need, no matter the universe."
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"Well, you know, those Nazis aren't gonna punch themselves." The penny drops on just what Steve said. "Wait, you mean that's not just a costume? A party one, I mean?"
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"Not just a party costume, even if it looks like one," he says. "It started as a stage costume. I toured with the USO selling war bonds for a while. Guess the stage one grew on me; I had my field uniform made up to match, for when I stopped being a touring performer and went out to the front lines. Because you're right. Those Nazis sure didn't punch themselves."
He shrugs modestly. "They called me Captain America. But I'm Steve Rogers. It's good to meet you, Hellboy."
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Now that he knows that it's a uniform rather than just a costume, Hellboy takes a step back mentally and looks it over again. It looks pretty tough -- certainly tougher than the Torch's, which never seemed to be much more than regular cloth backed by muscle at peak human condition -- but one particular detail amuses him.
"Did your other outfit have pirate boots instead? The Torch loved those things, and I never quite understood it." He looks down at his own hooves, hidden in modified boots of a style complimentary to the rest of the costume. "Then again, my usual footwear has the front parts cut off, so maybe it's not really for me to judge."
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He glances down at Hellboy's question, contemplating his stage uniform. "Pirate boots... sorta?" He looks up with another shrug. "More than these. They were about the same height but they pulled on and they had the cuff at the top. So I guess, yeah, they were sorta that style. In bright red." He makes a face that clearly--but politely--conveys look, it was a stage uniform. "They were all right."
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Hellboy shakes his head. "Hey, what year did you come from, if you don't mind my asking? I'm curious how often, world to world, Nazi-punching is still a going concern after the war."
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"I'm afraid I can't tell you if there's still Nazi-punching after the war," he explains. "I was still in it. February, 1943."
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He nods, a knowing look on his face. "I'm not surprised by that. They were already getting everywhere, where I'm from, and the war wasn't even over yet. It makes sense they'd be all over the place after they lost the war, wanting to run and hide."
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