⇨ THE CELEBRATION

[ringleaders]

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.

Comments

[whattaprick]

The Celebration would heighten Lambert's recklessness, nudge him into the thought that one more round wouldn't be so bad, but it hums against his chest and his hand instinctively wraps around it as he slowly shakes his head. Although the reasons aren't clear to his addled mind right now, the knowledge that he shouldn't let it go is too deeply ingrained in him for the mood of this place to touch.

"How about a new game instead?" He smirks, even as the rest of the loose circle of women around him boo and tease him for just trying to get out of things, but Lambert holds up both hands, a silent plea for patience.

"No, no. I promise, this will be infinitely more revealing than merely taking off our clothes. But first, we'll need drinks!" His medallion hums again when the servants appear around them, bearing a selection of alcohol (not that they didn't have enough already to start them playing in the first place) for them to pick over.

"This game's called 'I never...' and the rules are simple. You say 'I've never' followed by anything you want. Anyone who's done that thing has to drink. Interested?"

[atouts]

Childermass takes a moment to consider it, head tilting to one side a little as he does. He'll look around and it's there where the real answer lays, that their scantily clad (or not clad at all, in some cases) entourage seem to like the idea. No doubt the results will be funny, depending on what's stated, and so who is he decline?

"Very well," he agrees to it and folds the remaining cards in front of him back into one stack. "Sounds like an excuse to get drunk again, if you ask me."

But that's hardly a complaint at this point in the game — that game being the Celebration itself —and it won't stop him from picking a drink up off one of the laden trays passing him by.

"But go on, then. It's your game, you start."

[whattaprick]

"That's the point," Lambert grins, securing himself glass of vodka, and waiting until everyone else has a drink in hand before he leans forward, the scars and burn marks roping across his skin shifting queasily as the muscle moves under it.

"All right. Let's go clockwise around," he twirls a finger around, indicating their small circle of individuals. "I have never..." He draws out the silence, looking around at the avid looks of their companions.

"Kissed someone while wearing a dress." In response, Lambert gets a few shoves and accusations of cheating, even as others are already tipping their drinks to their lips. He laughs, settling back with a wicked grin.

"Hey, I said you could say 'anything you want.'"

[atouts]

Childermass, of course, does not drink. No surprise there. That one was obviously aimed at the ladies sitting around them, but the next in line is quick to get her revenge by claiming she's never gotten a scar. Aimed mostly at Lambert, sure, but that one he'll have to drink on as well, considering his most obvious one is the long since healed cut drawn from cheekbone to just short of his mouth.

And the woman after that picks up on the joke from the one previous and states she's never gotten two scars. Apparently, this pattern will go on for a few more rounds, just increasing the number of scars they do not have, until it reaches Childermass. By then, he's had to take a drink until they hit around six scars. He doesn't for that one, nor seven, and then it's his turn.

He isn't going to add an eighth scar, much to the pouting of the rest of their company.

"And I... have never fought a vampire."

[whattaprick]

Naked as a jaybird, Lambert can't exactly pretend he doesn't have any less than he has, and he takes drink after drink to much laughter and an increasingly hangdog look on his face. When Childermass speaks, unsurprisingly, he tips his glass up again, but he's the only one who drinks -- there are gasps of shock and suddenly anxious laughter from the rest of their group and murmurs of both admiration and anxiety. Lambert wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, his glass almost empty, and gives Childermass a wounded look.

"Traitor," he huffs, but despite his complaint the break in pattern seems to have done the trick, the next elf woman considering her own statement more carefully before she speaks. I have never... fallen in love at first sight.

The question sets off another round of giggles around the table, the brief tension relaxing again. Lambert doesn't drink, which results in a few moments of teasing before the game moves on again, taking on a different tone.

I have never been with someone more than a year, a woman with hair that appears to be made of flame sighs, to murmurs of sympathy.

I've never been spanked in bed! a cheeky, spritelike woman cackles. Lambert drinks for that one, and it's his turn again, the last swallow of his whiskey swirling at the bottom of his cup. If that's the way this evening's headed...

"I've never been tied to a bed during sex," he says, leering. "But there's always a first time."

[atouts]

He'll only laugh at that huffed 'traitor' and lift his glass, tipping it in a mock salute to poor Lambert. If he had expected him to side against the ladies, well, he was out of luck. It won't matter much, in any case, as they all move on to different topics. He won't drink on the first — love has never been much of a deal for him — and he won't drink on the second or third ones, either.

It isn't until Lambert's turn that he has to roll his eyes at what his never is and finally take a drink. If you're tired of giggling and everyone making jokes about this sort of thing, well, this is definitely not the table to stay about, because, of course, that garners yet another round of both.

But since that is the way the game seems to be going, the woman seated next to Lambert has to think about it for a second and then add hopefully to the rest of the table, I've never been in a threesome and there's a whole lot of drinking for that one here, including one previously very stoic man.

Another is I have never been married and the next is, funnily enough, And I've never slept with a married man. One or two who didn't drink to the first definitely drink to that one. This brings the round back to Childermass and he takes his time, topping off his glass with the nearest bottle while he decides.

Eventually, he'll add, "I have never slept with anyone outdoors."

When in Rome, right?

[whattaprick]

"Looks like I'll have to ask for advice from Mr. Childermass later," Lambert laughs, and he'll drink to the question after that -- to much amusement, apparently, because at least one of the ladies at the table was involved in his initiation into that particular group of individuals.

At the question of marriage, one of the women becomes more hesitant, frowning into her cup, before the one adjacent to her nudges her playfully and reminds her how she always mentioned her husband when she first met her, remmeber? And how she isn't skipping out of this round. Lambert doesn't drink to that, or the one after it. When Childermass speaks, though, he makes a face and drinks again, and that sets off another ribald string of 'I've nevers.'

I have never slept with anyone under the moonlight. There's a pause as people consider whether to count the light above the greenspace as moonlight, but Lambert drinks without waiting for it to be resolved. I've never slept with someone on a bed, the pseudo-fire elemental grins, gesturing down at herself to a chorus of groans for the leading response.

I've never been fucked in the arse, says the sprite, who Lambert's beginning to sense is going to constantly escalate this game until they're all too embarrassed to go on. Well, he's more than up to the challenge of matching her in that, so he slams a gulp of his drink back, and looks around the table.

"I've never licked someone's taint," he declares, prompting a brief and spirited discussion of what actual portion of the body "taint" even technically refers to.

[atouts]

"If you require advice on how to be tied to something, I must say that I fear greatly for your intelligence," Childermass shoots back easily before abstaining from drinking, right up until the elemental's. That one's a given. The next he skips, although not without raising an eyebrow at the never altogether. Lambert's turn, however, gets a less than serious objection after they've all spent far too long trying to decide what does and does not count.

"If no one can figure out what you are talking about, I suggest no one drink and we move on," because who cares if he arbitrarily adds rules to such a silly game. When it's met with no objections, they do just that. There's another two or so I've nevers regarding sex, but when Childermass's own turn comes up again, he opts to rein in it a little.

It's not that he isn't tipsy — he really, really is — but there's only so many ways people have never been fucked they can go over. Instead, he'll go with something incredibly mundane and say, "I've never been thrown from a horse."

And it is that, strangely, that is met with almost as much confusion as Lambert's never just before. I don't even remember the last time I saw a horse, someone says rather dreamily as if trying to even recall what one looked like, much less if she's ever been thrown from one.

cw for puke n' drugs if anyone's even reading this, god

[whattaprick]

That gets laughter again from some, though there's a brittle quality to it this time. Until now, the escalation has met relatively little resistance, but being brought down to earth seems to stymy them for a moment even while Lambert takes a slow sip of his drink, looking around. Before the next player can say anything, though, the one who's been most ribald of all -- and periodically popping something pink and crystalline into her mouth all night --suddenly shudders, her bright yellow skin taking on a greyish tinge.

Lambert's reflexes, drunk or not, are swift enough to move him out of the way and onto his feet as she vomits noisily onto the seat he just vacated, sliding onto the floor twitching and glassy-eyed while foam bubbles at the corner of her lips. Immediately, a handful of servants materializes out of seemingly thin air, though they were really hovering close at hand the whole time. One whisks away the stained furniture, while another busies itself cleaning the mess off the floor. When Lambert looks up, the sprite is already gone, another of the servants having taken her away while his attention was elsewhere.

"Well," Lambert interjects into the silence, after a moment. "I've never had that happen to me." Heavily-lashed eyes snap to him with a focus that seems more uncanny now rather than flattering, accompanied by a gale of sweet laughter and cups lifted in unison.

Oh, that happens here all the time, one says. Another chimes in with I've lost count of mine like it's a point of pride, and Lambert feels the nape of his neck prickle as the medallion on his chest grows warm again, and the voice he's been ignoring in all the days since they've gotten here finally manages to pierce the fog of revelry: something isn't right here.

[atouts]

Even without the same reason to move that Lambert has, Childermass still pushes himself up to his feet, his immediate inclination to go over and help just before the Host's unnerving servants arrive to handle the matter. Unlike the witcher, he does watch them whisk the unfortunate sprite away with a discomforting level of uncertainty. That no one else around the table even batted an eye at that strikes him as wrong somehow, though he can't help but be on the fence over caring or not.

He remains standing a moment longer, leaning his weight heavily against the table to keep on his feet at all. Maybe he's had a little too much, now that he's finding something this simple taking such an effort.

"Does it...?" Happen all the time. He shouldn't be surprised, considering where they are, but he would have thought the sprite's friends would be a little more worried than this. He's wrong, apparently, the way they just carry on, and without the same kind of reminder to keep on being worried that Lambert has, he'll only frown a little while longer before sinking back down into his seat. Once there, he'll actually give a short laugh of his own and add, "Perhaps we should have stuck with card games after all. Shall we?"

[whattaprick]

Already, the memory of the sprite's face is slipping from Lambert's mind, and between one breath and the next the acrid scent of bile seems to disappear from the air as the magic scrubs away all traces of it. The heady perfume she'd been wearing, though, opium and lavender thick enough to make Lambert's nose itch, still coils lazily in the air. It's hard to think clearly, but he'll latch on to it, stepping around the table to general protest and grabbing Childermass by the upper arm.

"Actually..." He trails off, unable to come up with a good, compelling excuse on short notice. "I'm afraid need to steal Mr. Childermass for a moment," is the best he can come up with, trying to tug Childermass to his feet, unsteady himself. The scent trail is already weakening, mixed with the overpowering aroma of everything else here, but he'll struggle to follow it nevertheless.

[atouts]

He won't meet resistance, only confusion. Childermass throws one last look back towards their table full of somewhat fair-weather friends. He'll at least offer an, "Excuse us." Though with how quickly they've forgotten about their other missing friend, he imagines they'll only be upset with their departure for the time it takes for the two to leave their sight.

But why Lambert's so keen on dragging him away is a mystery, even to him, thanks to the exact same effects erasing the worry and thought of the sprite laid nearly as strong across himself as it had been the others. That doesn't stop him from guessing, though. It's obvious he isn't taking this seriously when a grin creeps its way across his face. He laughs again, more of a low chuckle and this time in disbelief, but finding it funny all the same.

"If you were this serious about wanting to be tied up, all you had to do was ask."

Which is true! The outcome would likely be tied up and then left there as a joke (especially with this Childermass), but still true. Though honestly, what the hell else is he supposed to think? Lambert, you didn't even stop to get your pants before moving to pick up that trail.

[whattaprick]

What?

"What?" Lambert asks blankly, thrown off enough to metaphorically screech to a halt in the middle of the hallway, glancing back at Childermass with a knitted brow. In the process of walking off, his hand has slid from the other man's shoulder to his forearm, dragging him along in his wake. It's not such an unusual sight at the celebration, even with one man as phenomenally underdressed as Lambert is right now, so they don't merit even a second glance from the people slipping past them.

"No, there's -- we're looking for someone," he says finally. It's a struggle to hold more than a few thoughts in his head at a time, but he's trying. "Come on, we'll lose them."

[atouts]

"We are?" That's news to Childermass. Who would they be looking for? Someone from the carnival? Someone from the— oh. "The woman they took away?"

There, he's not completely useless in this state. Only mostly. Oh well, he'll at least make some small effort to look around them while Lambert drags him along on his wild goose chase.

[whattaprick]

"That's the one. We should ... we should make sure she's all right." Lambert, of course, doesn't need his eyes at all -- just his nose. Although the smell of opium mingles with other substances that litter the air, the lavender is distinct. From time to time, he'll stop and sniff the air, turning his head, but the trail eventually leads them to a suite door that doesn't really look at that distinguishable from the rest of the ones lining the hallway.

"This one," Lambert says, with certainty, reaching out to try the handle -- it opens readily. And there's the woman in question, fully clothed in the middle of a still-made bed, breathing so quietly she might as well be dead.

[atouts]

Yeah, because two random dudes sneaking a look into some equally random lady's room isn't shifty at all. Here, perhaps it isn't, but when it becomes apparent she's not dead, slow breathing aside, Childermass can't help but shake his arm free from Lambert's grasp and try to step in and take the handle.

He's planning on closing it again, of course.

"And so she is. How in the world did you find her, anyway? I never saw which way they went."

[whattaprick]

"Strong perfume. I could find you the same way if I had to," Lambert answers distractedly, which isn't any answer at all. His uncertainty doesn't keep him from reaching out to place his hand over Childermass's, shaking his head.

"Wait," he's not sure why he's asking him to, and he frowns, looking down at the door handle, then back up. The scent of lavender is overpowering, but it's not quite enough to cover the sour smell of sweat and sickness, at least not to his nose.

"Let's at least make sure she's not gonna choke on her own puke," he says finally, pushing past Childermass and into the room. Yep, if this was anywhere else, the sight of a naked man shoving himself into a lady's room would definitely merit a call to the authorities. He tugs at her shoulder to roll the woman onto her side (she goes easily, head lolling with almost sickening fluidity) and he startles visibly.

Outside, with the bright lights of the celebration and her laughter lighting up her expression, she'd seemed vibrant and alive. Now that she's unconscious, though? It feels almost like he's looking at a corpse, skin ashen and paper-thin under his touch.

[atouts]

He'll pause at the hand over his and look back, raising an eyebrow. He can't fault the logic, however, so he'll let Lambert by and then follow him in.

"I don't wear perfume," Childermass feels the need to point out. He clearly isn't thinking of what else might put off a unique scent — tobacco, for example — and instead assuming and finding some offense there. The cloying stench of lavender in the room is bad enough of a reminder how headache-inducing the stuff can be.

How the woman in question looks will put a quick end to further complaint. What they see here isn't anything at all like the rude sprite from before, but some ghost of her. It's a surprise that she even is still breathing at all, the shock enough to cut through the haze he's been drifting in for a moment. He'll steady himself against Lambert, a hand on his shoulder, and frown down at what they're seeing here.

"They said this is normal for them? I am amazed they are still alive at all if that's true..."

this thread: when you're watching a really serious cutscene but also u modded ur character naked

[whattaprick]

"No shit," Lambert mutters, unnerved enough to let the woman go, goosebumps prickling down his arm. Is it colder in here? It feels colder, even though he knows that's mostly in his own head.

"We should tell... tell someone," he says, slowly, turning to look at Childermass. They're close enough that the effort makes him slightly cross-eyed, and he shakes his head again, gritting his teeth. Why is it so hard to keep his head on straight, right now? It hadn't mattered outside, when the most strenuous thing he'd had to worry about was if his opponents had a better hand of cards or not, but just thinking really is like trying to grapple a wraith without Yrden.

"I don't think this is normal." Whether he's referring to the woman, or both of them being the way they are right now, it's hard to tell, and the furrow between his brows deepens.

at least it isn't a sombrero mod

[atouts]

Rationally, Childermass would be able to tell him exactly why not even without including the magic that lays heavily over the manufactured world around them. He's drunk too much, he's probably gotten into substances he shouldn't have, and even being a weird monster hunter isn't enough to handle it all. Unfortunately, Childermass is in about the exact same situation here and so rational is a pipe dream.

Instead, there's only the frustrated confusion of knowing something is wrong, but not being able to focus on it.

"Yes. We should," he agrees after a longer than necessary moment of staring down at the near lifeless sprite. "I need to... go. To..." There's at least one sure way of divining that something truly isn't normal, but not here, not now, he's not even sure he'll get anything from them in this state. Still, he must try and he turns away from the bed towards Lambert to say—

"Where the hell did your pants go?"

Okay, that isn't what he originally meant to turn to Lambert and say, but now that he's somewhat more focused, even if only for the moment? That's honestly a very glaring issue previously left overlooked.

[whattaprick]

"What?" Lambert blinks at Childermass, before he looks down. Yup, that sure is a lack of pants down there! It's not really a problem as far as he's concerned -- and sober, in-his-right-mind Lambert would probably tend to agree, too -- so he just looks back up at Childermass, who still has his hand on his shoulder.

He actually can't remember how he lost his pants, but... come on, Childermass!

"The state of my wardrobe isn't relevant to the matter at hand, Mr. Childermass," he says with as much dignity as he can muster, ruined slightly by the way he slurs on words longer than a syllable. "I know you're easily distracted, but try to focus."

[atouts]

So none, no dignity, zero at all.

Though it's not like Childermass can argue with being easily distracted right now. So, he won't disagree, but he will roll his eyes and then step away, making quite the point of removing his hand from Lambert's shoulder. He'll just have to manage his balance on his own from here on.

"It is not relevant, no. I only thought you might care to know they are missing." He does have some recollection of the man losing them in the card game, now that he's bothering to think about it at all. Right. That happened. "But if there is nothing left to investigate here, we may want to consider taking ourselves elsewhere."

[whattaprick]

Probably for the best, all told. They're more likely to end up falling and tangled together than sufficiently mobile if they tried walking while leaning on each other.

"I'll find something," Lambert waves a hand dismissively. Probably the same way he found pants in the first place. He looks down at the unconscious woman again, an uneasy feeling turning in his stomach that has little to do with nausea or the things he's put in it.

"Let's go," he agrees, and then frowns, rubbing a hand at his temple. "Go where?"

[atouts]

He's not sure, to be quite honest. Go to find the Warden, go to find Strange, go to find the Ringmaster? Go to—

"There is something I need to look at," he says, coming to a decision. His first plan had been to ditch Lambert (sorry, Lambert) and go verify the danger, but he needs a card, one he doesn't have on him. "And unless you have a Fool hidden somewhere on yourself," which he knows isn't plausible in the least, "I must go to my own room here."

[whattaprick]

"Pretty sure I'd remember hiding a fool in my ass, so I probably don't." Most people wouldn't think to ask Lambert for a fool, but go straight to calling him one, so perhaps understandably confused when Childermass speaks. Of course, he has no idea what the hell he's talking about, but he's not going to say as much out loud, less it invite the other man's disdain (again).

"Then what are we waiting for?" He starts back off towards the door, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he's being followed. "You'll have to lead the way."

Yes, this would be him inviting himself to wherever Childermass' room is. And after a glance down -- "You can get your fool, and I can get some clothes on."