lostcarnival | ⇨ THE CELEBRATION

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⇨ THE CELEBRATION

Who: Everyone, especially YOU.
When: Day 60 - Day 65
Where: The Celebration
What: The carnival workers are invited to spend the week within the realm of the Celebration, the grounds of a party that has been going on for centuries. Accommodations are luxurious, but those with keen instincts might notice something off about this whole arrangement... (Questions can go to the original setting post!)
Warnings: Booze, drugs, sex, and everything in between.

THE CELEBRATION↴

If you observe that the layout of the Celebration grounds seem inconsistent, then you would be correct. In reality, what lies at the end of each corridor depends largely on what the guests of the Celebration want at the time - if a few people find themselves craving a drink, a bar may appear. If a group finds themselves wanting to dance, a club will open up. This goes on at all hours of the night, and given how many dedicated partiers fill the building, the services are well used. It isn't instantaneous, and the Host has to consciously decide to provide that service, but the changes are fast none-the-less.

► ROOMS: Each trailer pair will be assigned a room to themselves - whether or not it has two double beds or a single king sized bed seems essentially random. Hopefully you aren't too sensitive about keeping that space to yourself. The curtains at the far side of the room don't actually lead outside, but instead to a walk-in closet filled with the Host's best guesses at the type of clothing you might like. They may not hit the nail on the head, but at the very least all the clothing will be in your size. The styles could be just about anything, from any universe, but they do tend to average out to clothing that is Earth-ish. Either that, or clothing that looks like they are meant for elves from a high fantasy novel to wear.

► SHOPPING: If none of your pre-picked outfits tickle your fancy, plenty of boutiques and clothing shops can also be found around the grounds - whatever you're thinking of, you'll probably be able to find a shop appropriate for it eventually. Though, maybe it doesn't really count as shopping if you don't have to pay for any of the things you take back to your room with you? Unfortunately, from the sounds of it, you won't be allowed to drag all of your haul back to the carnival with you, so you better enjoy it while you can.

► DINING: There is no daily schedule to follow, after you arrive. You are free to attend the dining room whenever you wish, and will be seated at large round tables with whoever else may be around at the time, and can either order from the menu or most dishes you may think of off the top of your head. If you don't like the fine dining experience, there are also a selection of smaller cafes and eateries that open and close at varying times of day - and, of course, you can always call for room service.

► ENTERTAINMENT: There is plenty of live music around the grounds (not that you can ever seem to remember who the performers were afterwards) whether it comes to harp music while you eat or a full set of DJs in the club you found. If you are inclined to look for them, you may also find some cozy lounges with big screen TVs, and access to a multi-universal quantity of films. What's there or isn't there is unpredictable, but if you come from a standard variety of Earth you probably recognize some of them.

► SUBSTANCES: You don't have to be coy about it - just ask one of your servers, and you'll be able to get whatever kind of vices you might be craving. Drugs, alcohol, ice cream... it's all good. If this sounds like a nightmare for potential addicts, you would be correct. It's not uncommon to see people clearly over-indulging in certain locations, though guests are usually escorted back to their rooms if they take ill - only to see them back at it again the next day.

► SPA DAY: If you'd like to take a swim, pools of various aesthetics are easy to find. So are hot tubs, and saunas, and Host servants who are willing to give you a massage or manicure. If the party crowd isn't your scene, there are plenty of more low-key opportunities to indulge.

► GREENSPACE: There is one park area on the grounds, which appears to be constructed on the rooftops of other parts of the complex. While there are trees and greenery, there is no real sky that you can see - only the illusion of one. It may start to occur to you over time that no window or rooftop actually leads to any kind of outdoors. The Celebration really is there only thing here.

These are really just examples, and you can get creative with what kind of services you find offered while here, when it comes to generally mundane comforts. It really feels like the Host wants to win you over, as if you staying just a little longer has some sort of intrinsic appeal.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dull.

A world--well, it doesn't seem so much a world as a very cleverly designed dimension--where your every whim was catered to? What was even the point? Sherlock explored as much as he could, the luxuries and the design and the futile shopping, and the overly accommodating way a restaurant would appear at the first sign of a hunger pang. People dancing the hours away, others watching movies, others staggering from room to room clearly having indulged too much in drink or who knows what else...this was probably the worst world that he'd been in yet, even past the Matrix. At least that one had proper danger and intrigue. This was just like a fancy resort. How tedious.

It took him a total of three hours before he became painfully bored.

"BORED!" he yelled down the hallway as he wandered, trying to get back to the carnival. That was the extent of his boredom, he wouldn't even mind going back just to get out of this stupid place. He paced, utterly annoyed at--

Silently, one of the servants appeared next to him. He looked up, squinting, trying to deduce anything he could about them. It was odd, there was...very little he could pick up. And when he tried, he just sort of...forgot any conclusion he'd just made. That should have set off the warning signals first, but his attention was immediately turned to what was on the golden platter held in front of him.

No.

"I can't," Sherlock immediately said, his eyes wide. Thinking back to John and how disappointed he would be if he induldged in his 'sweeties.' It hadn't been that long that he'd nearly died after going on that bender, yes, it was in order to save John, but what he'd done to his body and his mind was very real.

Though John wasn't here. He'd actually never know.

He was so very bored.

"No," Sherlock stormed down the hallway. Maybe if he kept his mind occupied. He'd go watch a few movies.

Thirty minutes into some dull James Bond movie and he was already out the door and wandering down towards the dance floor. There was a tap on his shoulder. That servant again--no, they were different. Were they? He couldn't tell--that was not a good--

"I really shouldn't," Sherlock said, what was on the platter was calling to him. He was starting to sweat.

Just one. No one would know.

He grabbed the packet of cigarettes though--his favorite brand, naturally--and proceeded to smoke through all of them, sitting at one of the tables in the club, the music pounding through his head. The servant stood next to him with that blasted platter.

He had to get out of here.

He stormed through the greenspace, the servant following him in a strange way that no matter how much speed he put on, they always managed to catch up to him.

Finally, he found a random empty room and locked himself in it, panting. He slammed his back against the door and slid down, rubbing his face in his hands. He looked up, and realized that the room was furnished in a Victorian manner, like a lovely library or study. A fireplace burned brightly. It smelled not unlike his own flat, which reminded him, with a pang, that he was stuck doing this song-and-dance for another year, and likely more, if he could wheedle a deal out of the Ringmaster.

More than a year.

The servant was next to him. How...how they got through the locked door, it didn't matter.

He didn't care.

More than a year. No cases. Boredom. Being this...this green thing.

He grabbed the entire platter.

**********

A. Welcome to the Hotel California

"Brilliant!"

Sherlock drew the paintball gun, and shot towards the target again. The short, elf-like person squeaked in fear as--PLOP--a big yellow sploch on their helmet. There was a polite clapping as Sherlock celebrated by shooting several rounds into the celing of the dingy games room.

"This gun never runs out of paintballs," he said with a giant smile, taking the time out to vandalize his initials in the ceiling. S...H...no wait, maybe his whole name. Start over. W. S. S. H...

"Doesn't seem to work out of this room, though," he said disappointingly to one of the elves hanging over him. He frowned, it was a female...something or the other. Pointy ears. Blond hair...hanging on his arm? "Who in blazes are you?"

An annoyed roll of her eyes as she complained about hanging out with him for the last seven hours and he didn't even recognize her. To be honest, Sherlock didn't think he'd be able to recognize his own brother at this point, he wasn't even sure what he'd taken, but whatever it was, he was...he had no idea what he was thinking about in the first place.

He sat down and a can of redbull appeared from the server who was steadily supplying him with his every indulgence. He cracked the can open and downed it, which was probably not good for his heart, but whatever. It was neat how fast it was beating, the world seemed to pulse with every beat, or maybe that was the beat of the music...thud-thud-thud--

THUD--

Or that was his head hitting the floor.

Wait, he wasn't in the games room, he was in the hallway, his face planted against a gold-plated doorknob. Was he trying to get into this room? Was this his room? He wasn't sure.

"Heyyyyyy--"

SPLASHHH!

Okay, that was a spa and he was now upside-down in a hot tub. He had the oddest sense that the server was annoyed as he was dragged out of the tub.

Wait. Did...time pass? Suddenly Sherlock realized he was wearing new clothes as he was wandering onto the dance floor.

Maybe it wasn't the dance floor, maybe it was the games room?

He had no idea where he was.

What was his name again?

B. Comfortably Numb

It's days. Maybe. He didn't know. But it was taking its toll on him, because he wasn't sleeping nor eating properly, and everything was running together. This was probably a great place, but he couldn't really remember where this was.

Or maybe it wasn't so great.

Did it matter? His every whim was provided for and that servant, that awesome...whatever they were...that servant was always at his side. Giving him what he needed. He didn't care where he took it, what he took, or where he did it at. The moment his body began to send warning signals that he was coming down, the servant was right back there again.

His kidneys were probably shot.

It was days since they'd began, when Sherlock was lying in the middle of the hallway, the servant nowhere to be seen, probably taking a break from constantly picking him up and dragging him off after he'd fallen into something or started yelling at plants.

He looked awful . Despite being covered in scales, he still managed to have dark circles under his eyes, webbed hands trembling, his color had gone way off and paled. If prodded or spoken to, he seemed confused and unsure as to where he was or what he was doing.

C. Chandelier

Wildcard!

Edited 2017-02-18 15:21 (UTC)

Well. This isn't what he was expecting on a quick trip back to his room to check on how Snake was doing.

Joker pauses from his slow relaxed slide, quickly taking in the scene: Sherlock, facefirst against a door, looking (frankly) like shit. Oh boy. Well, he guesses this sort of thing was due to happen, with the amount of alcohol available to people, but, still. Carefully, he approaches the detective.

"Oi, Sherlock- how are ya doin'? Asleep or what?" He waves away one of the Host's manifestations, deciding to deal with this himself- or get Zecora, if it's that bad.

Sherlock blinks back up at Joker. He knocked on it weakly, and started to laugh. He put a clawed finger to his mouth.

"Shh. I can hear someone knocking. Come in!"

Um...um, that was you, Sherlock. You're knocking.

….Ah. Well. It looks like Sherlock has been having fun. Hopefully this room isn’t occupied, or this is sure going to be something to explain.

“I think they’ll come in when they’re good and ready,” he says diplomatically, stepping closer and offering his hand. “Why don’t we get ya ta yer room, yeah?”

Sherlock blinked, and then took Joker's hand for assistance and shakily got up. Guess whoever was knocking was busy. Oh well.

"My room? Room's bit boring, don't you think?"

Of course the mysterious servants who provided him with all manner of necessities certainly would show up in the room. He normally would prefer peace and quiet but he was just so booooorrrred...

Joker sweeps a glance over Sherlock, more than a little disbelief in the look. Now, he wasn’t a detective, but he was pretty sure about one thing: “I think in the state yer in, you’ll have plenty ta occupy yerself. Anyway, how could ya be bored? This place has all sorts of stuff ta it.” Although maybe ‘stuff’ is why he is like he is.

"Dull," Sherlock waved a hand carelessly around his head, indicating 'this place.' "They give you everything you could ever want. What's exciting about that? There's nothing new, nothing dangerous, nothing interesting. Just mindless fun, and it's not even very good fun at that. You can only watch so many movies, play so many games, dance so much, eat so much..."

For someone that sounded so flippant about the excesses in this place, it was hypocritical for him to also be enjoying them. But for him, it wasn't a matter of enjoying, so much. He didn't actually seem to be on whatever he was on for the sake of having fun, as more for trying to forget and send his mind into a state of oblivion.

Nothing ‘dangerous’.... Jeez. The carnival really drew in some people, didn’t it? “Sounds like ya just have a low limit for things,” he remarks. The opposite of him, in that regards. Joker knows he could talk to people for ages, especially in a place like this when you had a good chance of never seeing the same stranger twice. Oh well- different things for different people.

“Why not just try and start somethin’ up yerself, then, if ya really couldn’t find anythin’ interestin’ for yerself?” He holds out his hand to him, just to get him away from the door.

"Well, I sort of did," he said with a shrug, and a vague smile. At least, he found a way to make it more interesting for himself. Less boring, more psychedelic.

He sort of just stares at Joker's hand. What was that for? He wrinkled his nose.

….Yeah, the chap is drunk out of his mind. Or something like that- Joker is well aware of the weird sort of shit that can be found in other worlds now. And he thought mushrooms were bad once upon a time.

For a second, he waits for Sherlock, but when it becomes obvious that nothing is going to click, he speaks up. “Take my hand, alright? Get ya somewhere else away from this particular door before someone throws a fit.”

Sherlock Holmes | OTA [TW: teh drug]

A

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B, with a side order of disappointment.

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B

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it occurred to me that gon has a Healy Meditation Scroll

Assistance readily accepted!

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