multiversallogs | ( i am at one with a sea of sensations, glitter, silk, skin, eyes, mouths, desire )

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( i am at one with a sea of sensations, glitter, silk, skin, eyes, mouths, desire )

Who: Ilde Decima, Jules Grumley, Hasi Ozcelik
What: Girls Night Out
Where: Hasi's apartment, then Gutters.
When: The same evening as this and this.
Notes: part of an episodic story arc! Also, OUTFIT REFERENCE, because you all care as much as we do.
Warnings: Incidental violence, frank discussion of sexual situations. Ding me if I've missed something.

Ilde leaves Ivan's flat shortly after texting Jules, leaving a note behind (out for the evening, call you later) and heading back to the villa to change into something that doesn't say 'I sat around my boyfriend's apartment painting my toenails all evening'. (Is it really necessary to leave her perfume on everything he owns? Likely not.) It's a while before she's expecting Jules, which leaves her time for all the parts of evening preparation that she isn't going to handle with illusion (cuts her make up budget by about two thirds, that); large parts of this involve pushing Orion off the end of her bed before he can sit on the dress she just took off and trying not to speculate about exactly what's going on with Hasi and Mitchell.

She's aware (has long been aware) that she's not exactly ideal to be anyone else's sounding board or anything like emotional support, but at least she can provide alcohol, diversions and in at least the figurative sense a sympathetic ear. Maybe if it's like gifts, the thought that counts, it'll be something just that she tries. The sentiment feels too Disney to solidify and she discards it along with something feather-trimmed and probably too much for clubbing; they'll have a few drinks and do something stupid (there are tunnels deeper into Gutters that she hasn't seen the inside of and would like to) and it'll be fine.

Jules, who she gives a quick opportunity to pick through her shoe collection before they leave for Hasi's, is probably right to be slightly concerned. All things considered.

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As an observer of people's natures, and behavior, and someone with a relatively decent grasp on understanding others, Jules is sometimes totally fascinating and totally worrying for Hasibe. She can see Jules repress something, shove it down deep and pushing away the darkness, and maybe now is not the time to delve into that, but it's one of those things that presses at the back of her mind. She wants to know what that's about--very much so, because it seems like it hurts.

But she smiles at 'puritanical', shaking her head. "I'm sure she was lovely, but I don't know where it comes from in his head; he's definitely had no trouble with sexuality with me."

Hasibe is not sure she could have a relationship with no sex, period.

"Ilde's vampire is a lot more normal," she adds, teasingly, "in as much as a vampire can be. He helped us out."

And punched Mitchell, but nevermind that.

"Ivan," Ilde declares, with a teeny-tiny sip of champagne, "is normal for a vampire." Which doesn't suggest anything positive about his interactions with humans, honestly, but she doesn't seem to be paying any mind to that (or even considering that she should). Hasi was right, earlier, about the appeal of Gutters; somewhere to go where human is the minority, and it's reflected in the ways she lets her illusions thin.

It's a very conscious thing-- she has her own familiarity with repression that leads her to following Jules around, poking at her to see what she can stir loose.

"I didn't really plan for him to be my vampire in the first place, though. I don't know how that happened."

"Mm." A troublesome thought, actually. Given all the cracks and fragments that had fallen away in her relationship (so-called relationship, really), however, Jules has become just a touch jaded. Mistrustful, really, in terms of sexuality and romance and how sincere a person can really be.

"I think, that perhaps-- that maybe, time might be the best judge. People can say and do all kinds of things and not mean any of them." And for all the effort at optimistic, light delivery, it comes out rather weary.

Not quite sure how to take that, Jules tilts her head, glancing between the two. "What does 'normal' typically entail for a vampire? I'm only familiar with old stories, but... they weren't ever real, so far as I knew." A drawn out silence, and as she flops against the chair's arm, her gaze settles on Ilde - with a slightly mischievous smile, yes. "Does it just mean you can't eat garlic?"

"Yes, tell us," Hasi says, cheerfully, just about as the doorbell rings. She leaps up, glass in hand. "Don't think that means you're getting out of going on about Ivan's vampire normalcy, Ilde, I'm just going to get the door."

...in her robe and whatever lacy little thing is underneath it, yes.

At the door, she can be heard chatting a little with the deliverywoman, but it doesn't last very long. Hasi figures they can eat sitting by the coffee tables in the living room--this is hardly a formal occasion, and sushi and champagne is about as ridiculous as it gets for pre-clubbing supper.

Ilde is still laughing when Hasi returns with their take-out, a gurgling sound in her throat that doesn't seem immediately as though it should be as pleasant as it is. (The unusual sound is sometimes alarming, the first time, but after a while people seem to get used to it.)

"I mean, I don't know, if he were human then he'd be a psychopath or something." ...but he isn't human, so that makes it normal? This makes perfect sense, thank you, and is only slightly influenced by the champagne. She really wasn't kidding about her alcohol tolerance.

Alarming, yes - Jules' eyebrows actually raise a bit, but all in all it just makes her laugh harder.

Laughing seems to be about the only appropriate way to deal with that rather unsettling news. Laughing, sweeping it under the mat - anything that means she doesn't think about the repercussions, the kind of things she'd do to someone like that if she were home. Ilde and Hasi are the closest things she has had to friends in quite some time, and going after the people they care about is hardly much in the spirit of friendship. If anything, she could take grim comfort in the fact that people like that were here; maybe it wouldn't be so hard to find someone to eat, after all.

"That's extremely comforting. Thank you." Leaning forward, Jules isn't very good at concealing her interest in the food. "Do you need a hand, Hasi?" And then can she set her hands to helping her eat, immediately?

"If everyone's like that at Gutters, we're in for an interesting night."

"Oh, sure!" She hands over a couple of the trays obligingly, setting down the leftover ones on the edge of the coffee table in the middle of the living room. With her wine glass balanced on top, until she deftly reclaims it.

"It varies, at Gutters. This one," she inclines her head at Ilde, "should not be wandering around there alone, for the record. Don't make a face at me, at least half of all vampires are paralyzingly short-sighted and won't think of the consequences for going after you alone."

Ilde being the vampire version of a small and highly coveted dessert of some kind, like an eclair or a macaron.

In spite or because of warning note to, Ilde pokes her tongue out at Hasi in a show of true maturity; she laughs again, a moment later, shaking her head. "I haven't been there alone yet." A beat, "Well, not for long."

It was less than ten minutes, she was just a little early to meet Alucard, it was totally fine, no one ate her.

In an aside for Jules benefit, "My blood is sort of like a drug, to them." It means she smells different, too, and the sensitive ones pick it up when she walks in.

Moving quickly - perhaps just a shade too quickly, she can lose focus a bit when she's had a drink or two - she takes the trays and sets them down. "That's... interesting." Extremely strange and disturbing, also. "As long as they don't try to snort you, or something of the like, I'm sure we'll be fine." She will, however, be keeping a close eye out. She isn't sure of the nature of a vampire's strength, not Ilde or Hasi's for that matter, but she's quite capable of wreaking a bloody havoc, if the situation calls for it. Ah, but... "Can they smell it? The differences between different types of blood?"

Something like that could make her life rather difficult. Mitchell certainly hadn't made any indication that he could tell she wasn't human, but then again, Mitchell hadn't been sniffing at her, and she honestly isn't sure how that works. As a hybrid, you're left to deduce monsters, hybrids and humans by your wits or sheer luck, be it good or bad. Devils and sulfur slaves just made her skin crawl. "I'll just keep an eye on both of you, I suppose."

"Oh," Hasi says, sinking down to the sofa to sit with legs crossed, "you don't have to worry about me, I promise. I'll slink off by myself for a bit, but it's the usual stuff where I'm concerned."

She smiles, shrugging.

"My blood seems normal, as far as I know." That's the point of the so-called 'Sisterhood of the Oleander' and their premise--lure them in, snap down like some kind of venus flytrap. ...witchcraft is especially charming in Hasibe's world. She carefully portions sushi onto a plate. "Most of them don't look very hard, though. They may be so-called members of the damned, but in a nightclub, everybody's superficial."

"Some of them can smell it, though," Ilde adds, draining the last of her shot-glass as she shifts off the sofa to sit on the floor, investigating the offerings of sushi and picking out what she wants to eat. "Not all; there are so many different breeds. Some of them aren't even magic."

She sounds mildly disapproving of this; she's got in the habit of expecting to be able to feel vampires, and when she can't it's a disconcerting moment of dead space where she doesn't think there should be any. That and she disapproves of science-based vampirism on principle.

"Again, I hardly know whether to be comforted by the common ground, or mildly disturbed." It's not a surprise, no, but hearing it like that is different.

Since she has never used chopsticks in her life, Jules is going to try to, as gracefully and apologetically as she can, eat sushi with her hands. Actually taking the sushi is an interesting exercise, making her turn it around to inspect it, intrigued by the seaweed wrapping, the rice, the different fillings. The entire thing is a nice distraction, as if she can make herself less of an open book. "If something isn't human but isn't magic, is that bad?"

She's not certain about the Devils and their contracts, how you'd qualify that, but the monsters are probably closest to some breed of alien. And, well, that would make her particular breed of something rather less than magical-- though that concern is bumped away by her investigation of wasabi.

Hasibe is a bit demonstrative with her own chopsticks, in case Jules wants to give it a go. She considers Jules' inquiry, though, a bit of rice in between said chopsticks as she pauses. "I don't find it bad at all, no. It's just a bit outside my experience...everything for me is all mythology and ancient tradition and blah blah prophecies."

She takes a bite of her rice, and after that, says, thoughtfully, "I think I appreciate the diversity."

"No," Ilde agrees, thoughtfully, making a gesture with her chopsticks that isn't demonstrative so much as 'she talks with her hands even when not signing', "I don't think it's bad, it's just especially odd with vampires. And mutants threw me for a little while."

Especially since they're not at all what she's used to associating with the term. At all.

Ah ha! Grateful for the lesson, Jules does... try. Slowly. Awkwardly, and she's trying not to hold the things too hard in case they snap. If you recall the scene in Beauty & the Beast when he's trying to eat porridge? It's not entirely dissimilar to that. Alas, poor Jules. Eventually, she just spears a piece of sushi with one of the chopsticks, and seems amused enough by her method to carry on.

Mention of prophecies makes her tense - visibly, before she can catch herself. The followers of prophets stripped her life down and branded her. A false prophet, she's sure, the mad Sebastien, but it makes no difference. Fanatics are fanatics, and their word is law. "Prophets!" It's meant to sound bright, and sort just barely passes for it. "How fortunate."

But she's not eager to talk about it, more viciously harpooning her next piece of sushi. "'Mutant' isn't really the most flattering term, is it? It conjours all kinds of rather unpleasant images." A bit more thought, and she glances between the two, not sure if this is a good question or a bad one. "Is there anyone you two have to be wary of?"

Hasibe watches the sushi piece die a second death at the end of Jules' chopstick, and then refocuses on her own meal. She considers the question, using eating as an excuse for a temporary lull on her end. She also exchanges a glance with Ilde. When she does speak, it's casual--she doesn't really know if she's properly afraid of most things, which is residual from her ancestry in ways she doesn't fully understand, but she does know who the threats are.

"There are certain organizations here in Baedal," she says, South Carolina island drawl thickening there, "of whom I do not approve."

"Vigorously," Ilde says, with a very faint smile that probably doesn't do much to provide any contrary impression to the one of her that's so unsettled Jules periodically. "I disapprove of them vigorously."

Interesting.

Before she has a chance to think that maybe it's poor manners, she draws her cigarettes from her pocket and drags one out with her teeth-- ah. But then she glances at Hasi. "Do you mind?" And, rather unnecessarily: "Smoking. Inside?"

It can wait, at any rate. "The one that mucked about with the-- what did you call them? Cruro... cru... flesh and blood eaters?"

"Oh, God, no," Hasi says, brightening up, "if you don't mind, I will, too, actually."

But she's got her own cigarettes, and they are Black Devils in rose (or sometimes chocolate), because she's so particular about her vices when she has the room to be. She reaches for them deftly, watching Huan leave the room out of the corner of her eye.

"Crurovores. That'd be the Candlelighters." She takes a drag once she's lit up. "But make no mistake, anyone who's not human is a target one way or another."

"That's not a bad idea, actually--" cigarettes, Ilde means, and she has...Ivan's, actually, she lifted them out of his jacket before she left his flat. (She's the best girlfriend; he's getting used to it.) Settling with hers and swallowing sushi, she says, "Cruorvores are like the gateway drug. They're an easy target; it's hard to argue that flesh-eaters aren't bad. It's a smart place to start. But it's easy to connect to the rest, if you've been paying attention."

...which she has. For some time, now.

"The more the merrier." Jules' cigarettes are not near so classy, but they'll do. There's a certain practiced ease to how quickly the match sparks and the warm glow finds its way to her cigarette, brightening as she inhales. (And a rushed nervousness to how quickly she puts the match out, too, if any are feeling especially observent. )

"Thank you, crurovores." A long moment, and she idly exhales her smoke in little rings, steals away another piece of sushi before continuing. "Going after people who choose their own survival over that of another makes sense," she starts, but it's a line of thought she's been picking at for years, courtesy of her father. "But it's inherently hypocritical."

"Everybody feeds off somebody?" Hasi guesses. "The ones they targeted, they were the vampires feeding off bagged, who were trying to behave themselves. That's pretty sadistic."

She remembers Mitchell's reaction when she told him about that, and briefly is caught up in wondering what that reaction entirely meant again. The lapse back into thoughts she didn't want to have frustrates her--she's meant to be going out to avoid thinking of him, why let it creep back up on her? So she reaches to finish off her own sushi plate.

"And not," she adds, "in the way that I conventionally enjoy."

Madam.

"Not all monsters are created equal," Ilde drawls, half-bitter and not bothering to make it especially clear in which of the many possible directions she means that. "And-- Baedal is a closed system, so the usual rules don't work for anyone." Everyone makes compromises; Gutters, in its way, is a compromise. "That's useful if you're trying to create chaos. It makes it easier, and immediately more destructive."

In Baedal, ultimately, there is no where to run. Not really. It's one of her least favourite things about this city, and it must be acknowledged that there are more than a few things she's coming to be attached to. If it weren't for Sonja - if it weren't for the enclave and for commitments she's made elsewhere - then maybe she wouldn't be so committed to finding a way out. After all, she's never going home. That's not what returning is about.

"In the way we don't like," she adds, helpfully, riffing off Hasi's last note.

"I think that goes a bit part sadistic," Jules replies rather darkly, and that pang of Hunger in her gut is already making this conversation weave a new tapestry, story unfolding into a bloodier scene with each stitch. The Candlelighters might merit some investigation. "I think there's a monster inside everyone. It's just a matter or not of whether they indulge it." She shakes her shoulders a bit, an effort to loosen the muscles and banish the tension that keeps creeping over her. "Being human doesn't necessarily mean you have a monopoly of, or a headstart, in the matter of virtues."

That said, she does chuckle. "When you repeat each other like that, it makes me feel like I'm being inducted to something." Another piece of sushi gone, and she pushed the plate away with the happy sigh. "The sushi was an amazing decision, Hasi. I think it's all I ever want to eat from now on."

"We're dragging you into the cult of clubbing, and yes, excellent seafood," Hasi says, rising with her cigarette in hand, "but you're right that humans don't necessarily have an advantage. I'm always telling people I don't even think 'good' exists."

It's all just shades of grey, in her mind. She straightens her robe, which has begun to slip over one shoulder.

"But now, you know, I'm going to go into my closet and get a few options for you. Are you ready?"

( i am at one with a sea of sensations, glitter, silk, skin, eyes, mouths, desire )

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THANKS FOR THE NO NOTIF LJ FFFF

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