Miss Megan if ya nasty (
gwynn) wrote in
multiversallogs2012-01-07 12:31 am
blow a kiss for all the hearts they gon drop
Who: EVERYONE IN THE WORLD
What: When it's time to party we will always party hard.
Where: Megan's apartment, Howl Barrow
When: Sukkardi/Saturday night
Notes: Threadjacking is encouraged. Also, again, if you want to tag in but your character wouldn't just show up, feel free to assume Megan befriended them somewhere and dragged them over/invited them personally.
Warnings: Preemptive warnings for drug use, naughty language and sexual situations.
Megan's housepartment (it looks like a house to her, but the realtor assured her it is an apartment, okay, whatever) is a quaint little thing in the middle of a friendly, middle class Howl Barrow street that is deceptively tame by day and comes alive by night. Her neighbours are super chill, which is her favourite part of living here -- she asked around about a party, if the noise would be a problem, and nobody had any problem with it. Howl Barrow rules.
The inside's a bit furnitureless right now -- she's got a few mismatched chairs and a pull-out sofa, that's about it -- but she's already started decorating a little, hanging art on the walls and putting up nice curtains. (Nobody is allowed to puke on her new curtains.) She's well-stocked with a wide selection of alcohol, ranging from mid-price beer to hard liquor, and snacks, nothing fancy.
She's got her bong out too, yeah.
By 7, there's already a couple people milling about and drinking -- coworkers from the Vault, mostly. Music's playing from an old suitcase turntable set up on the kitchen counter, it's something Baedal-native, hard rock, and in an alien language.
For the shy and/or drunken Snow Whites, there's a friendly, fluffy ragdoll cat lounging around, casually draping herself wherever is most convenient for attention and adulation. Caution: do not give cat beer.

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"So," he starts, head cocking curiously, tipping forward just slightly for a full sweep of the look of his company, "I suppose I'm not wrong to associate you with that short-lived textual conversation, not too far back. And in that case, it's a pleasure to address you more directly! May I ask your name?"
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"It's a pleasure as well. I go by Blake." There's no offer of a hand to shake. Instead, Balthazar moves smoothly into the subject he's interested in. "Undoubtedly you've had many questions about your mask since coming here, let alone at the party itself. I have to say I consider myself slightly more informed about masks than your average soul. But I doubt you come from a world similar to mine... do you tire of such questions yet? Or might I tread the same old line of inquiry?"
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"Please, be my guest! Although I'm sure you're a much more interesting subject, if I must wait for the pleasure of asking after it, I will." He gestures grandly with a roll of his hand. "Ask away."
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It's not really a plague doctor mask, Balthazar thinks, though the similarity is obvious.
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"Oh, old family heirloom," he says with a shrug. It's not true, of course, but very few answers he ever provides on the topic of his mask are. "I think my grandfather bought it for no reason other than aesthetics, I'm afraid to say. It's sorely lacking in any kind of interesting story. Although I could always make one up, if you like!"