#tcevents

There were plenty of flashy cars on the Saint Leviathan campus. Most families in the church had more affluence than they knew what to do with and dolt it willingly on to their children, but Leo’s vehicle did not fit the mold. He’d bought it himself in high school after his father had reminded him callously that he “did not reward incompetence.” Still, it got the job done and tonight it would serve its purpose. After the incident at Amarna it was better to be safe than sorry and he figured the girls might feel safer showing up to the event in a car that didn’t belong to any of them.

While he waited for the girls, Leo stood outside of the car messing with his tie in the side mirror and trying to make himself look presentable. The creak of the heavy front door opening caught his attention and he straightened to face Selena and whoever else she’d brought with her. He let out a low whistle and gave them a sweet smile. “Wow. You look absolutely stunning!” He opened the door to the back seat of the car and gave an exaggerated flourish of his hand. “Please be careful not to smash your head on the roof of this lovely chariot. You guys deserve one fit for a princess, but this is a bit smaller than Cinderella’s...”

As they took off toward La Maison Danseur De Brume he looked at his passengers and gave a small smile “So, uh, what are you guys most excited for?” ‘Light-hearted’ wasn’t normally his forte but he hoped it came off natural and didn’t expose his real question ‘Are you guys nervous? Do you think things will be better this time?’

where: La Maison Danseurs de Brume, a bathroom

when: 10:13 p.m.

who: Phi Phi Omega sisters @lenxivy @lavenderthelover @nixplorer @ofbirdscng

There were certain traditions in the world of female friendships that had no clear origin, but had cemented themselves as cornerstones of any night out in such a relationship. Holding summit in the ladies room was one of these traditions. And so the girls of Phi Phi Omega had gathered in one of the woman’s bathrooms at La Maison Danseurs de Brume, if not to make sure they were all safe given the town’s history, then to simply fix their makeup and gossip. 

Valentina was admiring the marble floors and counters, not bothering to hide it when she stopped to look at herself in the mirror. Vivienne was reapplying crimson paint to her lips, making sure nothing was out of place. As if on cue, both of the auburn haired girls turned back to their sorority sisters, mischievous smiles on their faces.

“So, Birdie, how’s your date going,” Vivienne asked with a wink, teasing in the gentlest way a Winthrop could. 

“And can we all please discuss the game plan for what we’ll do if he screws this up, because I have ideas,” Valentina added, though even she wasn’t sure if she wanted to make sure no one got away with hurting Birdie, or she just liked the idea of tormenting a frat boy. The twins looked at each other, a sense of understanding in their nearly imperceptible nod. They cared only about each other, and they saw nothing wrong with that. But they also couldn’t deny a certain fondness for each girl before them. 

Status: Open

Power lies not in the loudest of voices, but in the quiet whispers that coat the night. It was that philosophy that guided Violca through the grand halls. From room to room she wandered, ears pricked to the voices that echoed and lay hidden behind mahogany doors. 

Following the whispered laugh of a couple is what brought the witch to her next location. She stayed a few steps behind them, making sure her heels made little to no sound as she glided across the foyer to an unmarked door. Surely if it was made to be inconspicuous, the guard out front ruined the illusion. He gave a quick glance to the unknown pair before stepping aside, the door opening and the light inside illuminating the floor with a opaque red. Now, she truly couldn’t walk away.

With squared shoulders she approached the door, her eyes holding no hesitation as she looked at the guard plainly. He paused for one, two, three seconds before stepping aside and granting her the same access. Not much shocked the witch anymore, but to say her eyes immediately widened at the sight before her would be an understatement. The nakedness was not alarming, but instead what the naked bodies were engaging in was the cause for shocking curiosity. 

Violca stayed close to the wall, not out of fear, but out of uncertainty. She didn’t want to stare and offend, but this was all for entertainment, right? Back and forth she ran a finger over her lips slowly, eyes drinking in the scene and her body ignoring the pull towards the center of the crowd. A clearing shake of her head was given, causing her to finally take note of the person standing to her left, their eyes fixated on the crowd as well. “Your face is almost as red as this room... Like what you see?”, she breathed out with a low chuckle. 

She’d been to enough shin digs in her time that the best place to scope out the crowd was the dance floor, so she’d given some excuse to Astarte about checking the perimeter- an excuse she did not believe, but nonetheless she had dismissed Billie with a roll of her eyes and a fond smile- and made her way to the tiles. It hadn’t taken her long at all to charm a few foolish folk into twirling her around and around while she laughed, always looking for someone more interesting than the last to sink her teeth into.

When Billie spotted someone on the fringe of the floor she abandoned her previous dance partner, blowing them a kiss over her shoulder as she sauntered to her new target. “Dance with me?” She asked, voice smooth as honey, holding out her hand, “I’m awful lonely, and I insist on your company.”

Birdie’s outfit:

11:25 p.m.

Atlas felt like he was haunting the halls of the party, an ominous presence that laid against chairs, vest open and his first three buttons undone. One big hot and sweating mess, as Astarte would say. But there was something even worse, his voice felt ragged and clawed at, desecrated from angelic to the hoarse thing it currently was. 

Shameful. 

Singing like Freddie Mercury didn’t help him, Coughing after sips of wine only mad him feel sober. The alcohol having no effect on him like how pigs blood tasted earthy at fatty in his mouth the first time he had decided not to drink human blood. Yes, he had considered it once. It was one of the questions he kept in an arsenal about the soul-suckling vampirism he and others were subjected too until they all died or lived to see everything end. Atlas, personally, wanted to see everything implode on itself and burst into flames and vigor then dance upon the ashes of mortal and immortal flesh. 

Brushing his hands over his throat he coughed again, thinking, intensely; was he parched or was he tired for once in twenty-five years? His red tipped fingers traced up his face, brushing swiftly upon the intricate mask he had designed.

Pressing his cheek against cold marble, Atlas had started to mumble the words to a song spinning in his head, but his mind was caught in a mental underbrush; fact blending into fiction. What was he talking about?