#invite event

So you got the invitation to one of Los Angeles’ hottest Halloween parties, hosted by, for once, not one of the Lord’s unchosen few, but instead what seem to be normal people trying to have a normal good time at a venue called the Rose Room. The lights are dim and inviting and a DJ called Ghastly is spinning tracks and keeping the dance floor in an electro groove. The dance floor has been spray-painted like an Ouija board and drinks float by you on planchette-shaped trays— 

The Poison Apple: vanilla vodka, sour apple liquor, champagne.

The Ghost’s Shadow: vodka, blackberry liquor, lavender bitters.

The Morgue-a-Rita: a maraschino infused traditional margarita.

The Ecto Cooler: fruity, sweet and sour... and electric slime green.

The Vampire Bite: vanilla ice cream, crème de cacao, triple sec.

Black Widow Shot: black vodka, cranberry juice, a cherry garnish.

Since there’s no entry without a costume, you see everyone has adhered to the dress code—like you have—so you feel a little less like a sore thumb. All around you are folks dressed to the nines as all manner of dead and undead, from ghosts to zombies to vampires to mummies to skeletons and back again. Many historical figures run amok at the party, pale shades of once-was monarchs and more. Someone even strikes and odd resemblance, maybe, to a dead relative of yours? But you don’t see them again, so it must have been a trick of the light.

You spot zombie Mystery Inc, even, with a pretty stellar sickly Scooby costume to boot. There is a whole troop of white-robed ghosts moving through the party all in one horde, wailing, which you can somewhat hear over the music. Some folks in their ghost costumes really get that gauzy spectre thing down, seeming eerie and translucent as the lights pulse around them. As the announcer kicks off the party, a contest is announced: “$2,000 prize for best costume! Voting closes at midnight!” and gestures to a table with clipboards where you can sign up, get a number-name tag to be identified as, and vote. Out back, the Rose Room leads to the beach, where a bonfire rages.

Anyone hanging out around Tabitha, however, might find she is a little more ornery than usual. Did she really just vomit—or is that part of her costume? She only just got here, but as the night goes on, things just seem to get weirder with her. She didn’t just turn her head all the way around—it’s fine now. It’s nothing. After all, apart from that, she seems perfectly normal...

You enter Delirium, not sure who or what you’re meeting, except ‘doom.’ Why did you even show up, anyway? Maybe some of you wanted to get it over with—maybe a small doom is better than an impending apocalypse. Maybe some of you were curious, unsure what doubles had to do with a night club with no supernatural affiliation. Maybe some of you were hopeful: after all, some of you had made the wrong choices, killed the wrong person, and were left with only a message to come here at this date and time.

One way or another, you find yourself on precipice of a once-was warehouse. Its jagged edges are still rough and rusty, and perhaps it feels like your heart does: worn out, overused, and dangerous. The sign for Delirium flashes in its burnt orange neon, flickering, ushering you inside, where the concrete jungle and grates await you, the dim lights hazing everything a dark sunset. You’re the only ones inside: it’s a private affair. On the floor, in white chalk, is the outline of some sort of summoning circle; maybe someone with knowledge of the arcane, or an over-interest in possession, might recognize it.

It’s not quite completed.

Two pieces of chalk lie on the ground beside it, waiting for someone to finish the circle. Inside the summoning circle, there are anchors for each cardinal direction, and on each direction, a smaller circle like a placemat. In the west, the smaller circle is made of wool, and on it is aquamarine and lavender. In the south, the smaller circle is made of canvas, and on it is amber and broom. In the east, the smaller circle is made of jersey knit, and on it is carnelian and sweet pea. In the north, the smaller circle is made of old wood, and on it is blue lace agate and dandelion.

It’s eerily quiet. Everything feels like doubt and foreboding. Everyone waits, no music on, in the warmth of the night club. The unthinkable very reasonable: does nothing happen until the summoning circle is closed? Who will do it? What happens to their friends—to the real Dom, Zack, Paul, and Noah—if they don’t? Do you cut your losses, and your beloveds, and walk away? Or do you close the circle and bring doom that much closer to you; bring the unknown that much closer to you? Who dares do the unspoken act—and take the blame and responsibility for what comes after?

Perhaps it is that hanging silence, that discomfort that makes you realize: not just the summing circle is new to Delirium. There is a table along the wall, across from the bar. The bar still has everything it normally does to quench your thirst, but it seems your host has also provided some food for the evening. On that table are an array of macarons almost every colour of the rainbow. Surely some will be traditional, tasting of rose or almond or raspberry or chocolate. Some look... less familiar. If your muse elects to eat one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store…

On the table, the macarons sorts are:

Yellow with gold sparkles, tastes citrus lemon

Indigo with a forget-me-not on top, tastes earl grey

Baby pink with an iridescent sheen, tastes berry

White with violet jellied filling, tastes almond

Deep red with ruby glitter, tastes cinnamon

Pale green with dark green filling, tastes matcha

Velvety brown with golden sheen, tastes chocolate

Orange with rainbow sprinkles, tastes cake batter

Lavender with a silver sheen, tastes floral

Of course, there’s no accounting for Belial and Kiara, who are overly amused with the entire thing, and here to watch the show. In their corner, Belial tells Kiara about his great idea: he figures, if angels and demons can bond to humans using a Vow, then the Horseman may be able to finagle something of their own. Calling it a Clinch, Belial believes that he figured out a way to get a Horseman and a human to bond—but only to their benefit, like a battery that empowers them, without tying their lives together. He aims to try out the theory soon: if he does a one-sided body bind—that is, if he gives some of his blood to Elijah, but doesn’t take any of Elijah’s on—then Belial thinks a perfunctory, perverted sort of bond would occur, boosting the Horsemen and enabling them to have a steady energy food source. Kiara finds the conversation quite riveting and begins to devise her target, too.

So, feel free to taste the snacks, but let us know so we can tell you what effect they might have. Do one at a time—some don’t go well together. Also, if you are one of the 2 muses who would like to thread the Summing Circle as soon as possible, please calls dibs in the OOC.

The Summoning: After the circles are completed, a great whooshing sound happens, and for a moment, no one can hear anything—it’s not just quiet, it’s the absence of any and all sound. Then, all of Delirium plunges into darkness so thick that no one can see through it. When all the lights come up, so does the sound, and the place kicks into full gear as an actual club, finally playing music for dancing and drinking and merriment. Inside of the circle are the true Zack, Noah, Paul, and Dom—and their doubles have disappeared from Delirium. Doubt may still run rampant, as it should, among the revellers, but for now… it seems their friends might be safe and sound, simply gifted back. Perhaps your doom was your own making, your own skin crawling, your own uncertainty in the silence and the darkness, and the now-knowing of that feeling. Enjoy the party!

On the table, what the macarons do:

Yellow with gold sparkles, tastes citrus lemon ^ Happiness, euphoria, bubbly giddiness

Indigo with a forget-me-not on top, tastes earl grey ^ Relive one vivid memory of your choosing as if it is happening now

Baby pink with an iridescent sheen, tastes berry ^ Adoration and affection, being overly warm and pleasant

White with violet jellied filling, tastes almond ^ Experience a playful hallucination, perhaps a companion?

Deep red with ruby glitter, tastes cinnamon ^ Deep lustfulness and sexual need that requires sating

Pale green with dark green filling, tastes matcha ^ A serenity and calmness that overcomes you, totally chill

Velvety brown with golden sheen, tastes chocolate ^ Jittery, impatient, and irritable—like having too much caffeine

Orange with rainbow sprinkles, tastes cake batter ^ No inhibitions, no filter, and becoming the total life of the party!

Lavender with a silver sheen, tastes floral ^ Amnesia of all bad moments until now, totally trusting

There’s a thunderstorm brewing overhead, so it’s good to be indoors, even if it’s just to wait out the rain. The location is Smooth Moves, but it looks transformed: the tables are pulled out from the back, giving more seating but some linked together for a family style. It’s warm and inviting, bringing a slice of home to the environment. The interior has modern rustic touches, like weather wood table accents, mason jar glasses, and fairy lights. Adele is bringing a number of things, including skillet corn bread, crawfish hushpuppies, and her mother’s sticky buns. Our/Vodka, a local distillery, has agreed to sponsor and will be giving a boozy additional option to the smoothies available.

IC TASK: Have an argument. If you attend the potluck, your muse must have one argument with someone—anyone. It can be large or small. Fight over who gets the last serving of something, or who made something better if two people brought the same dishes, or which smoothie is the best—the argument can be that small. (It can also be bigger - up to you.)

WARMONGER TXTS: (Some people receive...)

TO JAIRUS: Contract voracitosis by Sunday night, or Zoe will get infected instead. If you tell anyone about this message, I will know, and you will pay. Do not go to the police. Just do it. Do not test me. 

TO SATAN: Light some important public things on fire and get caught doing it by Sunday night, or you will discover just how vulnerable you can be. Your safety isn’t where you left it. If you tell anyone about this message, I will know, and you will pay. Do not go to the police. Just do it. Do not test me.