#dehqstarter

"Sorry we're out of the special pour right now," Ashton sighed apologetically behind the bar, the same line he's had to say for the rest of the night considering how quick some of the liquor has flown off the bar, perhaps it wasn't something they should be saying considering that's what the floor is known for, never ending supply of alcohol that all you could think of, the paradise of food and drinks, yet, even their supply could end if the whole city was here and drinking nonstop over a seasonal liquor that came by only at Hell's Gate.

He rested the palms of his hands down on the bar to address the customer a silent sorry plastered over his smile, one more tired than usual, "how about the absinthe? I can make you a special drink with that. And everything else on the menu is still topped up and I can give you a little extra as an apology." It was honestly not the busiest it has ever been but it was the longevity of the peak of crowds that could certainly wear the team down the later it got. But it was still nice to see the whole city enjoying a party. "Hope it's been a fun night at least?"

⛧ OPEN STARTER; HELL'S GATE / SAMHAIN SOIREE ( 4 / 5 ) ellis ward + open

IF ELLIS WAS BEING HONEST WITH HIMSELF -- and tonight, with the whiskey humming in his veins, he was feeling dangerously close to it -- he wasn't built for places like this. He hadn't even planned on showing up, not really, and he'd told Angel as much when she first floated the idea, but she'd convinced him anyway with that dangerous grin that meant she already knew he'd cave -- he never could tell the people he loved no, not when it was something as harmless as this. He wasn't the type for crowded rooms or costume parties, and Hell's Gate on an ordinary night was already loud enough to make his skin hum. And yet, here he was. Ellis spent years in the army, put through situations men would sooner break from, so in the grand scheme of things, a Halloween ball was nothing to blink at.

Before he could so much as protest, she'd wrestled him into a black suit, fitted within an inch of its life, the fabric clinging to the breadth of his shoulders and tapering clean down his frame, and the makeup -- a careful streak of deep red across his cheekbones, subtle horns painted into the line of his temples with metallic powder. Ellis' second thoughts vanished the moment Angel had smiled at him.

Somewhere between the Gluttony floor's endless buffet and the Envy floor's ocean of costumed bodies, he'd lost JD to the crowd. He'd convinced him to tag along, mostly because Ellis couldn't just let him sit alone at the Ink Well while everyone was out -- and, to be frank, he knew the younger man needed a break. He figured JD was fine, and he knew they'd find each other again before the night ended -- Ellis hoped he was having fun. God knew someone should.

He wasn't sure what it was that finally made him stop fighting the current. Maybe it was the alcohol -- he'd had more than he should've, enough for the edges of the night to feel soft and blurred. Maybe it was the music, the way it pulsed through the floorboards, steady as a heartbeat. Or maybe it was that quiet voice in his head whispering that for one night, he could stop thinking about everything else. The festival had brought back that hollow ache that came with remembering he couldn't save everyone -- Denny, stuck in Afterglow, Dabney and his blackmail, Ashton's tentative friendship. He could talk to Santi, maybe. Try to work something out. But not tonight, and not here, as his big frame stumbles through the crowd. Tonight, he just wanted to be Ellis -- not James, not a deserter, not someone carrying a weight he couldn't put down. Just a man in a ridiculous suit trying to feel human for a few hours as the burn of whiskey churns down his throat.

The envy floor was alive with color as he nursed his drink at the bar with one elbow propped on the counter, gaze drifting lazily across the room. The makeup on his cheek had smudged a little from where he'd run his hand across his face earlier, and the suit itched against his skin to the point where he'd tugged his tie loose, but he didn't care. Every so often, a dancer would swing by and flirt, and Ellis would deflect with a boyish grin and a polite decline. He was halfway through another sip of his drink when someone brushed past him a little too close, and just like that, gravity betrayed him. Cold liquid splashed over his wrist, then his shirt, then -- god help him -- the person standing next to him.

the first night of the storm had not settled well with santiago. they were stuck in one of the many vaults placed around north america to house whoever they deemed most worthy to survive the fallout of the mess they created. the they in question was easily represented through the military presence, along with both the mayor-governor and dr. felix estrada himself.

he wasn't able to get much contact with lindsay, dante, or any of his other family which worried him, even if he knew that gus, his madre, and tia were in safe hands with dante and lindsay. not to mention the other silver lining members at the community center. he'd yet to hear from his other siblings, the three youngest, and he can only hope they are somewhere together but all the unknown and things out of santiago's control made him deeply uneasy.

needless to say, santiago had been developing a plan to get back to burnington since before the snow trapped in the grooves of his boots got a chance to melt.

then, to make matters worse, when going through the supplies that they could find ( the place was well ransacked ) it was announced that there was only enough food to feed a little over half those trapped in the bunker for around three days. after that? they didn't know what would happen. so santiago talked with his siblings and then went into the overseer's old office where there were a few maps of devil's elbow santiago had been updating and charting since he found them, trying to make sense of things.

Was this really a good idea? This was probably a terrible idea, if he stayed at home he could be prepping the next day to keep the bakery open, rather than close it for the day. Maybe if he went back early and didn't sleep he'll still be able to make it. Tomas had slipped outside of the party after it was getting a bit too much for him to handle, the overstimulation was getting nauseating at some point that he had to leave Merc inside the party for a quick breather.

Tomas left out a loud exhale flexing his hands to stop them from shaking as the cold biting air sobered him up. He had one drink, or maybe two, or three, but that was where he was capping it, compared to the calming affects of alcohol somehow before Tomas gets to that level, it just heightens his senses instead of dulls them. But the quiet was nice, the rest of the party muffled behind him from closed door, he just needed a minute to calm down before he braces himself back in there, he came with Merc, dressed up in some kind of daredevil lawyer and the punisher, and he didn't want to leave him hanging too long, plus there were other friends here too, it should be fun, and he's trying to have fun.

she doesn't handle things well. she's organized, but disoriented, careful, but too much care can falter her in analysis paralysis. something terrible has happened, and she can't quite place what to do or how to handle it, but going back to the ranch right now feels like retreat, when she could find some way to help. or make herself useful. she isn't skilled in ways that people might find useful. she isn't a medical professional, is bad enough at bandaging her own wounds.

her only other option is to pray, though she isn't sure what she's praying for. safety? a quick recovery for those effected? some sign that this was the grand design? it's a jumble in her mind as she sits on her knees, eyes closed. she's meditating more than praying. the quiet only interrupted by distant sounds...

... until the snap of a branch alerts her to company. her hackles are up, but she's careful not to immediately jump to defense. after all, she's trained better than that. she can move quickly enough to be out of danger, if it arises, and if she can't, then she hasn't truly earned her place beside her speaker.

where: the afterglow compound!

ade was precisely where she did not belong. perhaps it was something intrinsic, being in a place they knew was wrong. or maybe, it was simply that she missed tomas, the comfort of being snowed in somewhere she could make a warm beverage and wait until there was a break to go out and run in it. there would be none of that here! the serious tone that settled over those in charge made that clear enough.

"how long do you think— until we can leave?" her estimations were, much like she, always the most hopeful they could be. a few more hours always seemed possible, no matter the amount of snow falling. "i hate to be the pity party." or anything that leaned negative,given the expressions on the people's faces around them. "but, i've only got the one deck of cards."

IT DOESN'T TAKE LONG for alex to assess that in the crowd that was ushered into the community center -- she was one of the only individuals there with some kind of medical background. she doesn't even think about the stress this could cause on one person; it's her job to save lives and she intends to do exactly just that. she does what's in her control, making note of what they need and setting up a bay for the injured in one of the larger rooms away from the common area. all she can do is make yanni proud, wherever he is. the thought had crossed her mind: is he hurt? is he out there and she can't get to him? dio she's a bit more sure about -- considering he rarely leaves his office. even still. it felt like the people of devil's elbow could never fully rest. live their lives without the world around them trying to swallow them whole.

Yesterday, Briar had forced herself to finally survey the damage to her store, and while it isn't quite as bad as she'd thought it would be, there's still a lot to do before she can reopen it; there's glass on the floor, as though people had swiped a large collection of phials to the floor in their hurry to grab what they needed, and in that same vein, a lot of stock is missing, not just what had already been on shelves, but ingredients too. Some of them are relatively easy to restock, such as herbs and some poisonous plants—why they'd need those, Briar's not going to wonder about—but others are a lot harder to replenish, things she'd procured from the sweet, tall cryptid who trades in all sorts of toxins, as well as compounds she'd personally swiped from Afterglow on her trips to visit Levi.

They watch, seated on the counter with their legs swinging slowly—bare feet despite the glass strewn about—as three men carefully pull out the wooden doorpost that serves the entrance to their little establishment, the door having been removed earlier. They'd come back later to reinstall both, new not-splintered wood, but it would take a while with everything else going on.

With a sigh, Briar pushes stray curls away from their face and shoves them in the already messy braid keeping their hair in place. Hopping off the counter, they grab the broom that they'd leaned against the side of the counter and tucks one end of the patchwork dress into the worn, loose leather belt around their waist to keep it up and away from their legs as they start sweeping up the glass, deftly avoiding shard sharps with footwork indicating they're experienced in placing their feet on ground dangerous to bare skin.

There's the sound of glass crunching underfoot, but Briar doesn't look up as her eyes scan the floor to place her feet while she sweeps. "We're not open, we won't be open for a while, go away, come back next week."