lostcarnival | ⇨ THE MASQUERADE

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⇨ THE MASQUERADE

Who: Everyone! Attendance is mandatory.
When: Late Day 65
Where: The Celebration
What: The Masquerade arrives, and so does the carnival's enemies. For more info, check out the Draculas 101.
Warnings: Further party hell. Also, vampire violence, mind control, etc.

THE HOST & THE HORDE↴

The time of the Masquerade arrives. You've been given free reign of the place up till now, but a few hours before the party commences the Host will inform you that your presence will be required, and will assist you (forcibly, if need be) to sort out any last minute costuming concerns you might have if you've left it until now. When masks and outfits are sorted, you'll be left to your own devices until you are summoned on the evening of Day 65.

The Masquerade will start off normally - relative to everything else in this place, at least. Everyone in the Celebration will be called in for this event, centered in a grand hall with side rooms offered to those that need them for whatever reasons might come up. The food and drink is especially ambrosia-esque this evening, and the music will stir your soul, even if you're not usually a music person. Enjoy it if you can - the peace won't last.

► MASKS: Though the masks seemed only mundane before, once within the Masquerade atmosphere, they will magically begin obscuring people's identities beyond what a normal mask should be able to do. When a person is wearing one, it would be supernaturally difficult to figure out who they are - maybe you forget what their voice should sound like, or maybe the other details escape you. Of course, it's possible to figure out if you look for it, based on general shapes and personality traits, but unless you know someone well it could be a challenge. Of course, you can just take your mask off and remove the enchantment entirely - though the Host will hassle you if they notice you going without. Stop ruining the party!

► TEMPTATION: Though it's felt easy to be whisked away by the draw of pleasure and luxury during the rest of the week, that feeling will seem to come to a head at the actual party. If you are aware of what needs to be resisted then it's possible to fight back and ignore it, but more than ever it feels all too easy to just dance your life away. Nobody seems to be dying from it, at least, or 'burning out' any faster as a result - it's mostly just extremely distracting from other concerns. Like vampires, for instance.

VAMPIRE: THE MASQUERADE↴
It's during the latter half of the party that things will start to go bad. Though it will go unseen by the carnival, the Masquerade has gained an additional set of guests - the vampire's of the demon lord that has been chasing them for the last several months. The Host doesn't discriminate, and anyone is welcome to attend the Celebration, provided they don't start a fight.

Right. About that.

► THE KINDRED: The vampires don't like to play fair, which means that they are going to be attacking with stealth and trickery - taking advantage of the way that the party has dulled the alertness of many of the carnival's workers. They'll be using that lack of inhibition to lure individuals into places they can be attacked or turned in private - their primary goals are to capture the Supervisors and to turn as many of the Ringmaster's workers as possible before escaping back to their dimension. Some of their targets will be gone before anyone has a chance to notice.

Remembering that they will be avoiding big public confrontations, so if anyone starts one of those it will probably by the carnival members striking back. This is going to wear on the Host's patience extremely quickly.

► COLD IRON: Oh, right, and they are definitely bringing iron weapons - as pure as they could get. They'll have things like iron collars or shackles to try to trap people with, as well as iron daggers and guns with iron bullets. They'll have to be on the down low with, but they are going to exploit that weakeness as much as possible. Those that have only been in the carnival a few months will mostly just feel discomfort at the touch of it - as if they are touching something that is slightly too hot or too cold. Veterans that have been around for years will find its touch to be burningly cold - the type of temperature that would threaten to destroy flesh after prolonged contact. Those that have been here for up to three years will take it the worst. See the Transformations page for more details!

► TURNING THE TABLES: Being turned is a mixture of pleasure and pain, and is often hard for mortals to mentally reconcile as it happens to them. Being drained by these vampires is simultaneously impossibly satisfying and extremely terrifying - once they've started in on your, the way it overwhelms your mind and body can make it nearly impossible to stop them without help. Once you are dead or dying, they will feed you their blood - at which point your body will go through a painful transformation as the demon spirit takes its place inside of you and your dead body is violently resurrected.

As soon as you wake up, freshly changed, the bloodlust will set it - it will be extremely hard to control, and at first all you will think about is wanting to sate that hunger. Combined with your sire having direct control if your mind through your blood connection, new vampires will be mostly incapable of doing anything but following the whims of the rest of the vampire pack and seeking nourishment. This blood lust will begin to fade after they've fed. Killing isn't necessary to feed, but it can be hard to stop yourself, as a neonate vampire.

► CLOSING TIME: Before the party is officially over, the Host will have had enough. Before you can pursue all of the vampires or take back the people they've stolen, the lot of them will have escaped back to their dimension, and the Host will have kicked the entire carnival out for participating in so much violence. If you want to make any final moves before you go, this is the time.

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[ Strange just straight up rolls his eyes at that. Foster, you're being difficult. ]

I wouldn't like it even if there weren't candles involved. At least with the magic of my world, bringing yourself back to life would have to be timed perfectly, without any room for the slightest error.

[ And, as Strange looks Foster over with a small frown...he's pretty sure this guy would end up making the slightest error in the first place. ]

Well, then that's one thing our worlds have in common.

[Foster sits back, more or less surrendering completely to the fact that Strange is going to have his way here, whether Foster likes it or not. Which is how it should be, and his negative feelings about Strange in the moment are surely a sign of his own more craven, selfish nature.

But he's still really, really feeling pressed for time.]

So if I tell you how I did it.... will you move out of the circle?

[ There's a pause...before Strange delicately steps out of the necromancy circle, making certain not to smudge any of the lines, sigils, and so forth as he does.

He's inconvenient, not an idiot. Messing this up would most definitely be bad news. ]

Now, tell me your story.

[ while he tries to think of any counter-spells he could deploy if this resurrection goes sour. His one experience with blood magic didn't go as well as he would have liked, time to just watch and maybe put out metaphorical fires. ]

[Foster barks a laugh. It's partially relief that Strange is out of his way, to be honest--but also, to be honest?

Well. Honestly.]

You don't want my story.

[He's assuming that's not what Strange actually meant, because he really cannot fathom why that would be a thing.]

But I'll tell you how I did it.

[He works as he speaks, however--sort of. Every time he has to measure out where to stab one of the last few silver butter knives, he has to stop talking.]

I don't know--I don't know how necromancy works where you're from, but for this ritual here, you need the corpse, and several recitations, and you have to put out candles, counterclockwise, at certain intervals. And blood, naturally! But you need the corpse to... well, be a corpse! And the blood has to flow from the necromancer's living body, right? But you can't bleed yourself while alive and also be dead.

[His stabbings become increasingly violent, as though the act of explanation itself is somehow reviving his past feelings of frustration, until he finally sinks the last fork into the floor with a kind of vicious finality. He stops, studying it.]

I built a, uh--a machine, sort of. A mechanism of cause and effect. It was actually multiple mechanisms, but they connected at key points. To keep the timing equal.

[His initial impatience with the explanation is evaporating as he explains--whether he realises it himself or not, his own ideas do excite him.]

So--I stood about... here--

[He gestures with the hand that's still holding the carving knife, indicating a spot more-or-less occupied by the vampire's body.]

And cut my throat over the bucket--

[Here he makes a distinct slicing motion across his neck with a blithe smile, right across the place where his own somewhat-clumsy stitching still holds the now-dead flesh together--]

Which caught the blood. Once it filled, it pushed down a weighted scale, pulling a cord which I'd threaded through a pulley, tipping a track and releasing four gold marbles while freeing the decapitated mouse I'd raised, which ran on a treadmill, which made a wooden pole swing out and tip the bucket into the runed channels I'd carved into the floor, while the marbles struck the obstacles set along their respective tracks more or less simultaneously, knocking them over and activating the four separate mechanisms that took up the rest of the room--actually, it took up part of the hall, too, I can explain them if you want! But the four of them ran simultaneously from then on, culminating in the completion of the ritual by my action, using my own blood and my own corpse!!

[What he's describing so brightly is effectively a massive, multi-part Rube Goldberg device. He tested it extensively. With a stopwatch. And, uh. A lot of... no-longer-living dogs.]

Did you follow that?

[ He's listening very intently. Honestly, the blood and the corpse bit sounds remarkably similar to the necromancy he performed at home. It's when Foster starts describing the Rube Goldberg device from hell that Strange realizes he hasn't heard of anything like that.

To have something with so many different variables relying on such precise timing to work so well? It's impressive. Even Jonathan "don't do murder" Strange has to admit that it's impressive. ]

Do you have diagrams? When we get back to the carnival, I'd like to see a diagram of that machine.

[ It's weird. On the one hand, necromancy is bad and don't raise the dead and how could you do something so foolish and stupid. But on the other hand, what the fuck Foster, that sounds so cool and inventive and Strange isn't sure he'd have the creativity, much less the patience, to create anything that complex.

Urgh, he's going to end up talking shop with Foster at some point, isn't he. ]

I suppose my biggest question now is why kill yourself in the first place?

[ said without any semblance of tact whatsoever! ]

[Foster is... startled, honestly, to be received with not only credibility, but interest. If he sounds guarded, it's because he really, truly, was expecting to be told he's an idiot again. And he is on a very keen level aware that he should feel glad for it, but... he feels bitter. Disappointed?]

...I could make one. But I don't think you'd want something like that--it would be a mistake!

[But he's been asked what the fuck is wrong with him so often that he interprets Strange's (rather crass) question about his motive as just another variation of that. Foster regards Strange for another moment, before realising the man has given him an opportunity to better clarify--another chance to explain exactly how wretched and wrongheaded he is.]

I told you, my brain is quite rotted. It's been rotting all my life--I was born rotting from the inside out!

It was only my choice to shape my manner of death! There was never anything at stake--either I succeeded and stole time at the grievous offense of my continued existence, or I died still with mind enough to know I was claiming my only deserved fate, as a worthless corpse.

On the contrary, I do! I certainly won't be reproducing it, of course, but it would be useful for study.

[ Strange is the sort of person who's a fan of studying for the sake of studying and learning for the sake of learning. Even if he's not the sort of person to bring the dead back to life, he could at least compare the magic of Foster's world with that of his own.

Still, he listens to Foster as he explains about his brain. Unsurprisingly, the 1800s aren't all that good with things like fully understanding the concept of degenerative brain diseases. So Strange interprets Foster's description of his rotted brain as simple madness. Which, honestly, it's not something one should kill themselves over. He's had plenty of experience with madness, it's certainly manageable. ]

I hardly think simple existence would be considered grievous.

[It takes a couple of seconds to digest; his immediate response is just... incomprehension over how blatantly untrue it is. But after a few seconds Foster smiles back. Pointedly. It's a bit hard to pull off when he has brain damage and can't decide between condescending or apologetic, though--so it mostly comes off as cryptic or fake.]

I suppose you wouldn't.

[ Strange...just keeps going, sorry Foster. Because he supposes he wouldn't? What does that mean? Of course he understands madness, he drove himself mad in the first place!

He fixes Foster with a confused little frown as Strange just launches into a small ramble about mental health and the lack thereof ]

Well, it's just simple madness, isn't it? All this overdramatic nonsense about 'brain rotting,' I assume it's just madness. Which really, is perfectly easy to work with and certainly nothing to kill oneself over. I'd like to think I've worked with my madness perfectly well!

[ Somebody has no goddamn clue how things like 'brain diseases' work. ]

[This has gotten incredibly off topic and is wasting a lot more time, but Foster hasn't noticed. Maybe because it got very personal.

His eyes lid partway, his expression otherwise a fairly neutral deadpan.]

....no, I was being literal.

[His tone is very measured. Blunt.

He wants to be pissed with Strange. He really wants to feel it--if not that, then shouldn't he at least get to feel invalidated?

Well, Strange just went ahead and admitted it--he's making an assumption. And the assumption that his problems are in fact far pettier than he makes them out to be is... very insulting. Good! Yes, this is totally fine, actually.

His expression doesn't change much... but his eyes do brighten.]

If you want to see--

See what, your brain?

[ Strange can't help but cut in, with a repulsed little frown. Surely Foster can't be serious...and yet, there's something in his eyes that tells Strange no, Foster's being serious, that's a serious suggestion.

He's not hiding his expressions: the idea of potentially seeing Foster's brain is mad gross. Strange isn't a squeamish person, per se, but there are definitely some things that he never thought he'd end up seeing in the first place. ]

Why would I want to see that in the first place?!

W...hy wouldn't you?

[Asked like it's a reasonable question. Which, to Foster, it is. Why wouldn't anyone simply crack him open like an egg at the earliest convenience?

Proof? Investigation? Simple curiosity? Any--all--of those reasons would be enough!]

[ There's a pause, while Strange tries to figure out how to say 'because that's mad gross' but say it in a nice way. He does not succeed. Instead, Strange pauses, stammers for a bit, frowns, and then just blurts out ]

Well, it's your brain!

[And?

Foster stares at him for a long second.

Is there any way to say 'it's not like I'm using it' that this man will understand?]

....

[Gradually, a light of understanding dawns in his eyes.]

... oh! I get it now. You wouldn't want to touch something repulsive like me. I'm basically a contaminant. Something so disgusting and rotten... looking inside something like that, you're horrified of what you'd find.

[Right? Right???]

Edited (Those italics were very important) 2017-03-26 16:16 (UTC)

[ And now it's Strange's turn to stare at Foster for a long second.

He's just going to have to outright say it, isn't he? There's no way this man's actually understanding what he's trying to get at here. Oh lord, this is going to be an awkward conversation. ]

I don't want to touch your brain because it's your brain.

[ why is this his life now. 'Jonathan, get a job, become a magician, you'd be amazing at it' well yes but you'll also apparently have conversations about touching people's brains. Being a magician didn't come with a job description but even Strange knew that this was not part of the job description. ]

[The instant Strange had turned down Foster's first offer, the conversation had immediately become a trial of interpretation. He couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't feel absolutely free to crack his head like an egg.

Strange's refusal was genuinely disconcerting--no, more than that, it was actually distressing. Why didn't he want to???

The 'realisation' that Strange was repulsed by Foster himself made sense.

Strange's current protest... does not.]

...what's left of it, you mean?

[It's wry to the point of being derisive.

But there is a point to be made there. For all Foster knows, there isn't anything left of it. Just yellow liquid pus and necrotic fluid, sloshing inside his worthless, empty brain cavity.]

[ Oh ew gross he does have a point. Because when Strange brought back the dead Neapolitans, he brought them back in the same condition their corpses were in when they died (there were maggots, it looked really nasty). So if Foster died with a literally rotting brain, when he brought himself back to life, he probably still had the literally rotting brain.

Strange doesn't even bother hiding his disgust at the thought. ]

Look, I believe you now, alright? Your brain is literally rotting and it's nothing metaphorical, you're not mad, you're just...slowly losing your brain or something like that. [ because again, like Strange knows anything about brain diseases. ] Now can we please go back to talking about necromancy?!

[ can we please change the conversation back to something that's less nasty? ]

[Technically, they were talking about necromancy--hadn't they gotten on the subject of Foster's brain by discussing just that?

Foster frowns at him temporarily, the hmmm of judgement plain on his face. But his brows gradually peak, and he manages to give Strange the not-fakest smile, which is actually totally sincere.]

.... if you're sure!

[The smile quickly vanishes in favour of the same flat look he usually has, though.]

Actually, though... I'm going to finish this.

[He stands, stepping back out of his place in the middle of the circle to circle around the edge.]

[ oh yeah they were doing something in the first place...Strange just shrugs it off as he takes a few more steps away from the necromantic circle. So he forgot they were doing something, oh well! That's something he's just gotten used to thanks to the madness combined with the lack of the attention span combined with Strange just being Strange. ]

I hope you don't mind if I watch.

[ Because he is straight up not moving and watching the necromancy no matter what Foster says. ]

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⇨ THE MASQUERADE

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I tried for two days to add to this tag but it just kinda stayed where it is

hey, it's a good tag!

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This is gross.

foster, buddy, you need some help

HA. Don't tell him that.

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