nightlogs | A Fangtastic Evening (semi-open)

Entry tags:

A Fangtastic Evening (semi-open)

Who: Jaskier, Miguel, a dark lair of vampires.... and YOU?
What: Looking for leads among the Night Denizens (and general mingling)
Where: El Dorado
When: At the break of night, on a cool day in January
Warnings/Notes: vampire related things (blood-drinking, possible violence, being haughty assholes, general debauchery, etc.)

✧☽◯☾✧

You are cordially invited to a

Vampire Soiree

Congratulations! You’ve managed to snag an invitation (or perhaps another backway entry) to an elusive formal gathering of blood-sucking night creatures in El Dorado. Far and away from the visitor-friendly squares and boulevards of the supernatural city, venturing here is almost certainly leaping into the proverbial lion’s den.

Nothing worth pursuing is without its danger, of course. The secrets and gossip among the vampire kin will naturally incline itself to topics surrounding Pitch Black himself, and the assorted myths in his orbit. Or maybe your intentions are a little more altruistic - vampires have thralls, familiars, and other minions that aren’t always there under the best of circumstances. Maybe they could use a hand?

The Hosts of the Night are Countesses Carmilla and Laura, with their party tastes befitting their classic Victorian origins. The decor of the locale’s interior is magically transformed into tall, gothic stonework featuring many feline gargoyles and sea serpent motifs, complete with wax candle ambience and a low pulse of syncretic music. Lavish blood drinks and magically-crafted “foods” line the table. How they keep it fresh is a mystery - but the guests seem to find it of high quality.

Festivities and Etiquette

➺ Myths will need to ✧disguise themselves✧ to trick the guards at the door and/or receive some form of invitation. If they stand out too much, they may be captured (or worse) and crash the party before any useful info can be gathered.

➺ The main menu is the juicy lifeblood of all manner of supernatural creatures (in addition to humans) to tickle eclectic vampire tastes. Blood of a magical origin tends to come with extra effects. Some of it has been magicked into sanguine panna cotta, tartlets, and other hors d'oeuvres to snack on. How bad can a glass of the 1475 Wyvern’s Blood really be?

➺ All manner of vampires are welcomed in as long as they play nice. Have fun with the characters they might bump into, be it in the flavor of Lost Boys or Lady Dimitrescu or Lazlo Cravenworth, or maybe something else unexpected.

➺ There is a snack bar somewhere in a dark part of the hall to keep non-vampire minions fed. The charcuterie board isn’t inedible, but the food is clearly more of an afterthought. At least there’s a cheap red wine included with the crackers and pineapple.

NPC Gossip

➺ Octavian, a vampire low on the totem pole, is Carmilla’s servant and point-person left with the task of party organizing with the ghouls and thralls. Although his reputation is of being calm and diligent, there is a healthy amount of resentment for his lot in life.

➺ Carmilla is known for her ambitious personality and clear interest in expanding her own influence. She has a reputation for being utterly ruthless, but prefers ruling over live (or undead) subjects to wasteful, mindless killing. A little torment, though? That just makes the day interesting.

➺ Laura seems to have the repute of being the more relaxed one, happy to ride the coattails of her partner while pursuing her own flights of fancy in the Arts. She didn’t get to her rank without having her calculating, dangerous side, though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Feel free to ask any questions here. Dice rolls will be used to drive the direction of NPC interactions where they appear.

((~~its aran, i made this to keep the inboxes tidy~~))

This is a terrible idea.

[ He adjusts the fangs around his lips uncomfortably, as if stretching some unseen, internal muscle in his mouth. There's more than one reason he kept them retracted all the time: fully extended, it was difficult to talk around the long and curved canines. His voice was more mumbly than usual, trying to avoid nipping himself with the syringe-like ends of the upper pair.

All said and done, though, Miguel looked incredibly convincing once Jaskier helped him get all gussied up in the appropriate eveningwear. The extra coin fee for magical tailoring had been very worth it. The sun was freshly set when they reach the location of the Vampires' Den, the stone doorway conflicting with the gold-coated buildings of the city - although some of the metal had begun to flake in this city quarter. A boisterous throuple are politely greeted by a pair of guards at the door before being invited in.

He grasps the Bard's shoulder to get his attention. ]

You have the globe just in case, right?

[ Jaskier was annoying - but he the one who was really sticking his neck out here (so to speak). It was more important for him to have an escape if he needed it. ]

Edited 2024-01-26 05:23 (UTC)

[It’s a shame that Miguel seems so uncomfortable with his fangs out— not only is it incredibly attractive, his slight lisp is downright adorable.]

You’re right, I should’ve snuck in some proper wine.

[He is not impressed with the selection that’s been provided for the mortals.

Jasper has made it this far by simply shooting not to think about the potential consequences of his actions (which, when he thinks about it, could be said for most of his life) but that is getting rapidly more difficult when faced with the reality of actual vampires.]

Of course I do. I’m not just going to stand there and let myself get nibbled on by any beast with a craving.

[A small pause.]

…You won’t let them eat me, right? I know I look positively delicious, but I do prefer to know where my own blood is at all times, and that’s much easier to accomplish when it’s safe inside me.

[Jasper, for all he’s capable of foolish bravery in the moment, is very quickly becoming a nervous wreck now that he’s been given long enough to process the danger he’s getting into.

The duality of man.]

I have better ways to ask you to pipe up.

[ he's joking. dryly.

Despite being a jerk while skulking around in his lair, Miguel's attitude shifted the closer they got to real danger. He doesn't plan on letting Jaskier out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time. If sticking to the buddy system was preferred in sunnier places, here it was an absolute requirement. ]

There must be a rule that taking a bite of someone else's plus one is considered rude. That seems like common sense.

[ He's half making it up, but most silly social etiquette was made up anyway. Well, they made it past the front door with little drama (mostly a furtive glance from the guard on duty). ]

[Jaskier laughs.]

You’re funny! [It almost sounds like an accusation.]

Why didn’t you say so sooner? I was worried that this was going to be dreadfully boring— these high society events often are. I feel much better knowing that my companion is in possession of a sharp wit.

[As they enter the building his body language changes. The nervousness is gone, but so is the playfulness. This is no longer the time and place for Jaskier the bard. No, tonight he will have to be Julian. It’s not a pleasant thought.

His smile changes to something more reserved and his shoulders pull back as he takes Miguel’s arm. He dislikes how easy he finds it to slip into this familiar skin.

Julian glances around the room to find their hosts. It would be rude not to introduce themselves and thank them for throwing this lovely event.

He starts guiding Miguel toward the Countesses while somehow managing to make it appear as if Miguel is the one leading.]

They are to be referred to as “My Lady” or “Your Ladyship". Allow them to offer their hands first. If you must bow, do so by nodding your head. It will be your job to introduce the both of us. You will go first. I can say my own name, but you need to prompt me.

While normally I’d offer to do the talking in a place like this, I’m fairly certain that you’re supposed to be in charge. Do try and act as if you’ve done this before.

[Being a bitch is something Jaskier and Julian have in common.]

...Yeah.

[ It was the least confident 'Yeah' that ever tumbled out of his mouth. Despite his frequent run-ins with Nueva York high life, Miguel is still out of his element. He either didn't talk much as a kid, or could afford to ignore decorum as an adult, mostly shielded by being a Hotshot Brain at Alchemax. So now what? ]

We don't actually have to use the made up titles, do we? I get swapping names, obviously...

[ All the extra procedure feels goofy as hell. And what if the Countesses start asking more questions about being Viscounts? He will have to resist tripping into Smart Aleck territory with every bone in his body.

He does ultimately defer to Jaskier's lead, holding his hand in the crook of the arm. Miguel is large enough and fanged enough to avoid any vampires directly getting in their way, but the presence of a very alive human there still turns a few heads and curious noses. Miguel's not-dead status doesn't go completely overlooked, either.

The Countesses aren't too difficult to find. Partially obscured by the crowd and the short line of Guests with the same Idea, it is possible to get a glimpse of the elevated throne. Their tastes definitely lean towards the resplendant and dramatic - there's a lot of stone-carved, twisted up human figures with cats chasing and pouncing on their prey. It's practically a theatrical diorama stretching up to the ceiling. The very red drapery is probably to be expected.

The two vampires themselves look fairly relaxed, reclined on their plush lounge chairs and pillows and chatting with a squirrelly vampire up front doing a lot of needless bowing. ]

We most certainly do.

[There's a pleasant smile on his face as they approach their gracious hosts but his words come out as a sharp hiss.

Julian sees the other vampires watching them. Normally he would revel in the attention, but the circumstances are too unsafe to do so comfortably. He'll bask in it later, he promises himself. No point wasting time on it now when he can't even appreciate it properly.]

You wouldn't have to introduce us at all if we had brought a steward as I suggested but no, that would draw too much attention.

[They take their place in line. Julian takes this time to examine the decor.]

How... charming. The faces screaming in terror really bring the room together, don't you think?

[As they stand in the queue the biggest change in his demeanor becomes obvious. Jaskier is constantly moving. He hums to himself, paces, taps his fingers, plucks at imaginary strings-- there is hardly a waking moment where he is not in some kind of motion. He practically vibrates with energy.

Julian is still. Not relaxed, never relaxed, but the court etiquette beaten into him as a child certainly made an impact. He knows how to play this role perfectly, even after casting it off years ago.

He leans to get a better look at the person holding up the line and barely holds back an inelegant snort.]

If he keeps bowing like that, he'll be polishing the floors with his nose. It might even improve things-- I'd fire the tailor that put me in that jack in a heartbeat.

[He mutters to Miguel under his breath. In all the horridly boring events he was forced to attend as a youth, Julian managed to find his own entertainment: bitchily judging other people.]

Edited 2024-01-28 08:10 (UTC)

[ His chin lifts stubbornly at the little gripe about the Steward, clearly still confident he remains in the right. Introducing unknown third parties to the mission would invite too much attention, among other problems. If nothing else, Miguel at least had enough pride to compete with any of the snooty vampiric nobles.

But he notices the lack of busy movement, the same way sudden silence in a forest can be louder than ambient bird chatter. Jaskier's hand gets a gentle squeeze against his side in an attempt to direct his attention. Sometimes it was better for the nerves to just focus on one person, rather than have it dart to all the over-the-top grandiosity of the snake pit they've jumped into. ]

You're stiffening up.

[ He says it at a whisper. Restraining oneself was different from being relaxed. So he was checking in. He wasnt used to 'Julian', simply knowing that Jaskier had managed to survive enough of these events to defer to his advice. ]

[Thank you, Miguel, he knows.

The hand squeeze is returned because Julian's not about to punish positive physical contact. One could even accuse his companion of being nice in this moment.]

Fidgeting is inappropriate when presenting yourself to the public.

[The words come out as a recitation.

But Julian still forces his shoulders to relax some, because Miguel's not wrong. As they get closer to their hosts, his posture shifts from tense to confident-- almost regal. His smile is more pleasant, but his gaze is sharp.

He may not enjoy events such as this but that doesn't mean he isn't in his element. People like Geralt and Miguel can chase down monsters and save the day with their heroics, but this is the arena of combat in which Julian excels.]

[ It looks like Jaskier most definitely had it handled.

For his part, Miguel looks on to the couple directly ahead of them as they step up to speak. He observes the way they present themselves to the hosts: the mannerisms were a little more reserved than the enhusiastic politeness of the first vampire. Amicable. It was a pair of ancient barons from some dusty castle or another that seemed to know them well, and brought a gift to reinforce an equally dusty alliance. There is some chatter in between fluffing up the whole affair with niceties.

He picks up where Jaskier left off when it's clear it'll take a minute, his voice low to keep it between them. ]

At least the screaming faces on the wall are made of marble. Kraven the Hunter likes to embellish his lair with the taxidermies of his kills.

[ For all of Miguel's unpleasant qualities, there does seem to be a genuine protective sentiment showing itself under pressure. Whether or not his partner-in-crime is actually comforted by the attempt is another story, however. ]

Edited 2024-01-29 04:08 (UTC)

[The word lair is so evocative. He wonders if Miguel means it literally or if he has a hidden poetic side.]

I have a cousin who does the same thing.

[Hunting as a pastime never appealed to Julian-- he was sensitive as a boy and had little tolerance for blood, something which only started to build up after a few years of bearing witness to the Continent's most viscera-filled profession.

Said partner-in-crime is very comforted, thankyouverymuch. He's practically fluent in "surly and emotionally distant" after all these years.]

And, we're up.

[Julian leans in close as if he has a right to Miguels personal space. He wants to evoke the level of intimacy appropriate for the kind of... partner he's supposed to be. A certain amount of stoicism is fine, but he really hopes his companion doesn't freeze up or, Melitele forbid, pull away.

This time he lets Miguel truly take the lead. These women are far too shrewd to fall for simple tricks like that. Miguel's lack of manners could be interpreted as aloofness, but Julian taking liberties for his station could cause real offense.]

[ Once the last guests wander into the crowd of the party, the two of them meet face-to-face with the Hosts of the Night.

Sitting at the center of the elaborate entablature, Carmilla looks to be in a good mood in her 19th-century style upholstery. It was large enough and luxurious enough to easily fit them both, replete with plush cushions and drinks within easy reach. The overall mood seemed to lean more towards a lounge than a throne room. This was a party, after all, and they were meant to have a good time with their guests (as long as all invitees behaved, of course).

The felines appear to be Carmilla's fancy, as her red and black dress had embroidered motifs of them, and the wrapped feather boa seemed to perfectly echo the curves of a long tail. Her hair fell down beyond her shoulders in a rich mane of black waves, making the gold jewelry stand out all the more. Despite her relaxed attitude, her overview of them from the elevated seat looked all too similar to a cat perusing its prey from a favorite tree branch.

Laura, as her reputation suggested, seemed content to observe at the other vampire's side, dressed in cooler blue and scale patterns. Across her face was only sweet curiosity at the two strangers striding up to greet them, the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. That meant the sharp points of her fangs were bared first. ]

Oh, some novelty. Seeing a new face seems to be a once-a-decade event around here.

[ Carmilla begins, her voice measured but jovial. She leans forward to indicate her rapt attention fixed on the two of them, but notably addresses Miguel: ]

Your heart is still beating in your chest.

...Right.

[ Miguel is used to being the object of clinging and hugging. It comes with the whole Rescuing People territory. Might even admit that he doesn't hate it, if pressed. The remark from Carmilla leaves him hoping her ears weren't sharp enough to catch their earlier comments.

Once the two of them approach, he forces himself to do the shallow dip of his head, which is about as close to a bow as someone with Miguel's pride allows for. ]

Not being bitten the traditional way comes with its side effects, your ladyship.

[ He decides that if asked, he'll pin the slimy bloodsucker title on his father. Seems fitting for a dhampir story. With the lie practiced well enough, he continues on without stumbling. ]

We come from the keep on Dragonera Isle. My name is Mateo, and as for him -

[ Well. He's not much of an actor, so he doesn't really look tender. But he at least manages a little eye contact with Jaskier while being all nestled close together. ]

I wouldn't have chosen anyone else to bring along, Viscount or otherwise.

[ It's... something of a cue. ]

[Julian makes the valiant effort to hold back an eye roll. Anyone with half a brain could tell that Miguel's unused to courtly manners-- the question is, will they chock it up to typical antisocial broody-ness, or will they find it suspicious? He's hoping his own familiarity will lend some credibility to his partner.

He gives a nod to each Countess, at an appropriate depth for someone a rank above his own.]

Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz, Your Ladyships. If I may say, you have put together an impressive event, and look as stunning as when the evening sun kisses the horizon and turns the sky gold.

[His compliment is genuine-- the two women look (terrifyingly) beautiful-- but he's not actually trying to flirt. He doesn't move from his spot at Miguel's side so that no matter how many pretty words he may use, his allegiance is clear.]

That old dog Dracula would be positively scandalized.

[ Laura says it with genuine amusement to her partner, and the two Countesses exchange a knowing look between each other that must have whispered a hundred unspoken words. How long has it been since they've basked in sunlight? The former continues to look warm, the other a calm enigma. Carmilla leans forward and rests a chin in her hand, addressing Miguel - but really, it was for both of them. ]

You should leave your isle more often, Viscount. It's not often we get Dhampyr and their partners as guests. They tend to have knives at our hearts more often than they take seats at our dinner tables.

[ Some courtly awkwardness can be forgiven among vampires, it seems, but they've definitely garnered some attention from their hosts and from a few wayward eyes. ]

Of course, those particular daywalkers don't get to see any more pretty sunrises after that.

[ Miguel's face remains expressionless as he comes to quickly understand why Blade's choice of interaction with Vampires often involve copious amounts of silver ammunition. He doesn't like vague threatening.

But he is also extremely aware of the fact that his surliness and general appearance made it hard to argue he was just here for a peaceful chat... Unfortunately for him, that's what he'll have to try to sell. Dryly, he adds: ]

I'd rather not tear up the coat, my Lady.

[ Something clever to diffuse the tension. He hopes. Miguel doesn't forget the polite(ish) addition to the end. ]

[Julian takes the vague threatening in stride.]

I should hope not, it suits you so well.

[He reaches up and fusses with the shoulders of said coat. It's a subtle show of possession more than anything.

He hooks his arm back around Miguel's and leans his weight against him.]

I've been telling him we need to get out more for ages. After spending all that time indoors my skin has been suffering, darling.

[There's value in being seen as vapid and frivolous-- people tend not to pay as much attention. They don't watch what they say around you the same way.

Julian turns his full attention back to the Countesses and flashes a large, if a tad mischievous, grin.]

We promise to be on our best behavior. We wouldn't want to ruin our chances of getting another invitation, would we my dear?

[That last part is directed at Miguel.]

Edited 2024-02-12 10:26 (UTC)

[ His attention flits to Jaskier's hands in a very convincing display of non-plussed familiarity. He doesn't retreat from the new intrusion on his space at all. ]

After all the trouble in making the trip?

[ Miguel allows a little eye contact to linger between them after responding to Jaskier. That's what couples do, right? Enjoying each other's proximity and other such silly things. ]

At that point I'd deserve the earful.

[ Their reaction to the test seems satisfactory enough. Above all, what mattered to Carmilla appears to be some appropriate deference and an indication that they were interested in playing ball. Vampires could be a haughty bunch at times, so a little bend was allowed before striking down rude individuals for their faux pas.

Between their banter and 'Julian' playing a bit of the fool, they are deemed acceptable enough to be allowed to enter without being mauled for interrupting the vampires' groove. ]

It's still a party, dears, do try to enjoy it. Just be mindful of the delectable flush of your cheeks.

[ Delicate fingers draw a swirl in the air over towards Jaskier's general direction - more theatrical than threatening. Laura is in a good enough mood to chuckle, which was great news for them. Carmilla seems to respond to the energy of the other vampire and allows a smile across her sharp features when she and Miguel catch each others' focus. ]

Even Dhampyr should be able to taste the difference of our vintage. I encourage you to try it, and see what you've been missing.

[Julian gives an only slightly nervous chuckle at the joke. He doesn't fail to notice the Countess' polite dismissal.]

Well, the refreshments are always my second stop at any party, so we will gladly take your recommendation. We thank you, Your Ladyships.

[This time he bows to them properly-- they have more than earned his respect (and an appropriate amount of fear, and a likely inappropriate amount of lust).

He leans back against Miguel, giving him a sly look and a bit of a smirk. He speaks low enough to seem like he thinks he's being quiet, but loud enough the likely enhanced ears of the Countesses will be able to catch it.]

You'll have to let me know how it compares to my own... blend, darling.

[He takes a moment to see if his companion's cheeks flush. He's decided that that is his own personal goal for the evening: make Miguel blush as many times as possible.]

[ Oh, they didn’t fuck it up? Great! ]

I look forward to it, your Ladyships.

[ and following Jaskier’s example, his head dips again and even manages to forego his ego to do it a little deeper, this time.

But he is caught slightly off guard at the implication of the whisper, taking a second to realize Jaskier was referring to blood, his blood compared to that of the party-provided delicatessen. Oh.

He blinks at the source of extra weight on his body, definitely a little flustered but not enough to ruddy his cheeks much. Maybe it was his complexion. Maybe Jaskier simply needs to go at it a little harder. ]

Hm. Careful what you wish for.

[ also at a low note, playing into the little back-and-forth of their act. ]

Octavian can guide you lovebirds to the lounges. Go on.

[ Carmilla rests her face in her hand and gestures for them to be very gingerly shooed away from the throne and into the crowd. She's not offended by the display, but she is not letting PDA take over her vampire court. Not when there's a line behind them.

The two of them banter lightly as the next group of vampires walks up. ]

Ah, don't you feel nostalgic at all...? It's been almost two hundred years.

Hmm. Perhaps a touch.

[ Laura seems to be the romantic, maybe because she had once been the human lover to her Countess before she was turned. And so, in a way, Julian has most certainly managed to endear himself more than he might expect. ]

Edited 2024-02-21 06:48 (UTC)

Never, darling.

[Julian feels much better now that the introductions are over. That went very well.

Charming the hosts is half the battle-- there's a lot one can get away with when you have put yourself in a favorable position. Other guests will have observed that interaction and be eager to socialize. The desire to impress and manipulate the newcomers is likely to loosen their tongues. He can practically feel the envious gazes following him and his partner as they move.]

But such wishes will have to wait, I was promised refreshments.

[He begins to look around for this Octavian fellow the Countess referred to.]

[ Miguel does not miss the few stares in the dim light of the hall, which is to be expected. Getting along with the heads of any party granted them some legitimacy and tended to draw attention. Nothing immediately dangerous, so he doesn't let his own eyes linger for too long.

He wastes no time pacing away from the center of the crowd, preferring his place blended somewhat among the other groups of nocturnal denizens of the court. Dryly, he adds: ]

Not a bad start to the evening.

[ As for their guide, there appears to be some kind of vampire butler floating in a less populated corner of the hall. Framed against the large stones of the old castle, his fussy, dandy-like appearance was far less threatening than the Countesses. He was occupied with an undead thrall that had tripped over a discarded, empty bottle and was having trouble coordinating its limbs. ]

Calen, you're in no condition to be working on the main floor. Return to the catacombs with the others and see if there's something that requires a bit less balance for you to do.

[ Octavian's voice is a crisp and well-articulated sing-song. Calen releases a zombie groan in response. ]

I'd call it a rather excellent one.

[Julian? Feeling confident and cocky from the first success of the evening? Never! This is a normal amount of smugness-- an appropriate amount of satisfaction for a job very well done.]

That seems to be the fellow.

[He starts moving toward the levitating gentleman. His steps stutter a little when he sees the undead creature. All of his instincts (and an annoyed, raspy voice in his head) are yelling at him to run very quickly in the opposite direction. It takes a second to realize that the thing seems to be somewhat tame.

He keeps walking, mostly because he's unsure that Miguel would accommodate a minor freakout in the middle of the hall, but he has a distinct air of nervousness about him.]

Can you fly? I've seen you climbing walls and such, but if you've been capable of levitation this whole time and haven't informed me, I'm warning you now that I'll be rather cross.

[Unfortunately, Julian's nervousness tends to manifest in a high volume of words.]

Despite the care put into filtering out any obvious belligerents, there is still the occasional flying hissing match or bat-fight that needed to be broken up once the bottles opened and some blood-drunkenness started to wash over the crowd. Overall, the atmosphere remains at an acceptable amount of rowdy thanks to the diligent individual flitting from end to end of the gothic stone halls.

Octavian has a slender elegance and non-threatening stature, more fussy than particularly fearsome for a vampire. His undead pallor leaves him with an ashy verdigris that matches oddly with the nocturnal glow in his eyes; his ears are appropriately pointed and slightly batty. He was clearly a dandy at some point in his life, and never felt the urge to update his wardrobe. A silver feline brooch is pinned to his lapel, indicating his allegiance to Carmilla and granting a minor petty air of authority he wouldn't have otherwise. Then again, he was left with all the busywork to deal with.

It's his job to ensure things are running smoothly, so --

a ➺ Surveying the Crowd. He may opt to approach if you are lingering by some dark wall or corner instead of interacting with anyone. He will float over to insufficiently spirited individuals, hovering a few feet above their heads to ask:

"Greetings. How goes your evening? Are you enjoying the drinks?"

b ➺ Conflict management. In an attempt to catch problems before they happen, he will attempt to wiggle in between any arguments starting to get physical and make eye contact with both parties (including you, mayhaps?)

"What seems to be the problem? Do I need to call Bertha over here?"

c ➺ Organizing the thralls. Hypnotized and undead mythical denizens don't make for the sharpest tools in the shed, and observant bystanders may catch him struggling somewhere in the back where all the unopened bloodwine vintage and food is.

"Not there, Calen - you're going to spill it all over the floor!" he yells in a panic.

d ➺ wildcard (let imaginations run wild)

Need was confident, so... here she is, and wishing she wasn't. Nyara looks different. She still has a distinct and strongly feline aspect but it's downplayed. Unpatterned skin, not velvet-short fur half concealing her eyebrows. Uncleft, fully bald lips, which makes them seem larger and more prominent, particularly when in a bit of a pout. Pointed ears without fur on them, narrow pointed nails in large hands rather than claws in bulbous padded ones, that sort of thing. A conspicuous lack of a small sword at her hip. The illusion should cover all senses and last half a day or until she dismisses it.

She's adjusted her clothing - it's not skimpy, but it's tighter and reveals more cleavage than normal - and posture, standing straighter and more often hipshot. Turns out she's actually fairly tall, just short of six feet. She also seems... well, honestly, she still seems on edge and more like she's posing as bored and a little sultry, but being nervous or excited or both isn't really out of character. This isn't a lordly, powerful vampire that she's pretending to be, but a hanger-on who seems to be loitering about looking for someone, moving from room to room and trying to duck notice.

This is almost something that could be hosted at her father's fortress, although there doesn't seem to be the same degree of fawning deference or fear directed at a central figure. There are a lot of familiar types, all the same, and very few people she'd want to know. At least it's dark, and they aren't focused on her, either.

Nyara's hearing is keen far past the point of being practical, though she can tone it down. This is why she's here, well, this and Need, concealed on her back, thinks they might be able to opportunistically do some good.

Octavian, floating a few inches off the ground, is summoned by thicker-set vampiress with feather-adorned cloche hat and a close-crop of dark hair. Her figure is draped over with chiffons and other light and loose fabrics that nicely flowed from the shoulders. If Need had any frame-of-reference for time periods - it appears this vampire might have been turned around the 1920s, or very much enjoyed flapper fashion. The flowing fabric gave an illusion of her floating along with her conversation partner.

"You told Carmilla about the deal, didn't you?" she asks incredulously."You might want to catch her up after the party, dear."

"I'm sorry, they're making deals with whom..? With the humans...?!" Octavian sounded aghast, then lowers his voice. "It's the Unseelie court, isn't it?"

"You'd think it was." she remarks, swirling the bloodwine glass full of secrets. As her eyes drift away, she briefly notices Nyara lurking somewhere nearby, giving her a chance to make this extremely awkward or allow her to jump in on the sweet, sweet gossip.

Edited 2024-02-07 06:51 (UTC)

Normally, when Puss lights up a party, it's because he's belting out showstoppers or manning the milk bar, not slinking around on all fours and rubbing up against legs. The beautiful thing about being a cat is that a disguise is just a matter of stripping down to your fur, but it does lack a certain...panache.

Still vampires, it turns out, adore cats. At least these ones do. They let them snag treats from the snack table and lay in their laps while they discuss their nefarious dealings. All Puss has to do is remember to purr and not eat with a fork and knife and he should have it in the bag.

Still, that's hard to remember when you've been on the level of a human being for so long. If he stretches in a way that's more human than hunter, or starts to absentmindedly tap his paw to the music, a little reminder may be in order...

Late in the evening, once the rowdy blood-drunkenness of the crowd makes way for a quieter lounging about, Puss finds himself in an opportune position: sitting between two vampires discussing their business and just tipsy enough to overlook some atypical cat behaviors.

"I just want to know how he's been doing, Natalio. Sure, he was a bit of a prick, but the fling wasn't all bad."

The first vampire lilts the words lazily, draped across plush red velvet cushions. He was the picture of comfort even with the eveningwear and half-mask. And although the undead did not have much for body warmth, he was quite good at petting cats!

"...Duke Astaroth the Undying?" responds Natalio, with a hint that Spanish was the preferred language. "He's going to have to find a new title from the grave."

The lounging vampire's mouth slackens in shock, but it is more blasé about the death of his lover than one might expected. He recovers quickly.

"I told that idiot to stop prodding the werewolves." he adds, fangs clicking together.

"It wasn't werewolves - though I hear there was a wolf of some kind."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A Fangtastic Evening (semi-open)

✧☽◯☾✧

OOC Questions

miggy top level

the seed of the terrible idea (for jaskier)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: briefly referenced child abuse

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Octavian (open!!!)

no subject

no subject

no subject

thank ye very much for your patience >:)