Open: In a shout of joy at the only shrine where you come benighted and leave benign

[vineleaves]

Dark has come and gone again, which means it’s time to party.

In some ways the party is very similar to last year’s - same large banquet room in the mansion, a similarly large abundance of food and drink, and the promise of a night full of letting loose for everyone in attendance. It’s far from a direct clone of the previous party though. For starters, Dionysus has had Claudius help him in all of the planning (sometimes a god’s blessings come in the form of enrichment for one’s enclosure). They’ve gotten several of the mansion’s residents to agree to play live music during the night, and Dionysus was able to find some, ah, more widely appreciated CDs to play during the breaks between performers.

The room has been decorated to the nines again, but where last year he had green vines draping on the walls diffusing the glow from the twinkling fairy lights, this year he has strung up swooping vines of silver, glittering almost like tinsel. The large food tables have an almost ridiculous amount of things to munch on; there should be something for everyone there.

It should go without saying that the beverage tables are well-stocked, considering the host.

The festivities are starting a little earlier this year than last, out of respect for those who may or may not have earlier bedtimes. Come dressed in your finest, it’s a yearly tradition now!




Just as there was last year, there is to be an ‘after party’. If your character is part of the standard Orgy Invite Crew, they will have received another invitation to that half of the evening as well. Just like last year, this part of the event is to be handwaved, for obvious reasons.

Comments

[timebethine]

"'Tis in part thy doing; thou didst replenish our stores at just the right moment to keep us from want." He smiles, and opens his arms to embrace her. "My thanks to thee, for all thou dost."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"You're terribly welcome," she says, lingering for a single indulgent beat into the hug and leaving her hand on his arm as she withdraws. "Next year we shall communicate about your storage needs ahead of time."

[timebethine]

"Ay, we shall." As he steps back, he takes her in with one swift glance from head to toe--the cut of her dress emphasizes the strength of her arms and shoulders, and emphasizes the contrast between her full bosom and her trim waist. He's sure that if he glimpsed her from behind, he'd see the powerful back muscles of an archer on full display. "Thou lookest well, Susan," he says, after what's perhaps too long a pause. (Is he staring?--Christ, he's staring, isn't he.) "This fashion suits thee."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"And you," says Susan, and - oh, the appreciation in her voice is perhaps a little too bald. She rallies quickly. "We're practically two peas, don't you think?"

[timebethine]

"Well-matched, indeed--I fear that Lancelot would not long withstand us."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Can you imagine?" Susan certainly can! In vivid detail. She oughtn't, oh, she oughtn't. "He'd be overcome immediately."

[timebethine]

"Is he to come, tonight?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh yes. He said he'd like to surprise and delight us both with his outfit and sent me on ahead."

[timebethine]

"Then we'll catch the woodcock in his own springe," Laertes decides.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I do like the way you think," says Susan, striking - admittedly - a bit of a pose.

[timebethine]

"Shall we seek him out together?" Laertes asks, offering her his arm.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan beams up at him, her smile much more easily unlocked than usual by the commingled relief at the end of Dark, the thought of Lancelot's expression when he sees the both of them, the two and a half very full glasses of champagne and single gelatin cube containing surprise alcohol that she's had, and - yes - the pleasure of Laertes's company. She slips her hand through Laertes's arm. "One does wonder when he might make his way down here," she says. "He mentioned something about Kade, but - Kade seems to have arrived already."

[timebethine]

Laertes, meanwhile, has downed several jello shots in quick succession in perfect ignorance of their alcoholic contents, and there is more than a slight flush to his cheeks as he tucks her against his side. "How ought we to present ourselves to best effect?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She really oughtn't say that the first few ideas she's got aren't suited to this iteration of the party at all. "I suppose we might array ourselves upon some surface, but that seems rather - static, doesn't it?"

[timebethine]

"Ay, it relies too much upon chance." He turns her, then, and lets his hand fall to her waist. "Lady, wilt thou dance with me?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan brings her hand to his bare shoulder, in turn, and reaches to join their other hands. "I do love a good dance."

[timebethine]

Although the music currently being played corresponds to no dance Laertes knows, his long hours of practice with Claudius have not deserted him; he finds the rhythm swiftly, and attunes himself to how Susan instinctively moves.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan has fifteen years' experience with Narnian courtly dances and a subsequent ten with the sort of dances a girl with a history of ballet aspirations might indulge in whilst increasingly exploring the clubs of London. While she's turned to softer swaying with Lancelot of late, she's still got a keen sense of rhythm and the derring-do to match. Crucially, she's also got Bacchus's belly dancing lessons under her proverbial belt.

She opens with something a little more traditional, with a close hold and smooth movements. She's in the follow position, but willing to guide Laertes with taps of her fingers at his shoulder.

[timebethine]

As Laertes takes her measure, he becomes bolder in his steps--letting Susan whirl out to strike a pose when their arms pull taut; suggesting a lift or a dip and committing as soon as the tap of her fingers confirms it; taking her traveling across the floor with quick, flashing steps. She's a pleasure to dance with, inventive and sure of her own body, and soon the flush on his cheeks has more to do with the joy of exertion than with the vodka in his veins.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

As the dance evolves, Susan, too, grows bolder. When she whirls out, she introduces some of the moves Bacchus has taught her, the isolated hip movements and belly tensions that make it look like her entire body is rolling. It's difficult to see some of the effects in this gown, but enough is clear enough for it to still have impact. If, when she twists back into the hold, she stands closer than the dance strictly requires, then surely it's something she can shrug off as more for Lancelot's eventual reaction than Laertes's.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot has just entered and gotten a glass of champagne in hand when he spots them dancing together -- and stops in his tracks. Hopefully, no one is trying to speak to him at this moment because he can do little else but stare and somehow manage not to drop his glass. It takes several long moments for his brain to recalibrate enough to rapidly down his drink and then immediately head for the two of them.

There is not a single intelligible thought in his head, but he absolutely must tell them how... beautiful they are. Separately and together.

[timebethine]

In his vivid blue-on-black suit, Lancelot immediately arrests the eye. Laertes thinks on how well he'll look beside Susan, their deep blues against the bare, fair skin of their shoulders--like a set, made to flatter each other. He does not match, and for a moment, he feels that disjunction keenly. A flash of shame washes through him, as though he's trespassed on their union ... but he and Susan concocted this scheme together. He has done nothing that she does not approve.

He dips her one last time, deeper than every other dip before, and holds her for a long moment in a graceful, tempting arc.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

As she holds the curve, Susan glances at Lancelot, who is distractingly handsome even from this upside-down angle. She looks just long enough to ensure his attention is on the two of them, and then rises up again, practically vertebra by vertebra. As she lifts, she slides her arm up and around Laertes's neck, sinuous, like a pulley's load reaching its peak.

In her heels, she's very nearly of a height with Laertes. It's easy to press in close in a way that pulls the fabric of their halters tight. "He's devastating, isn't he?" she murmurs, mouth barely a centimeter from Laertes's ear.

And if she were properly drunk, rather than vivaciously tipsy and roused by the dance, she might dare to make eye contact with Lancelot and pull Laertes in for a proper kiss. She isn't quite so bold, though. She just flicks a glance over to Lancelot and presses her lips to Laertes's cheek, close to, but not squarely at, the corner of his mouth. Perhaps, she excuses to herself, Lancelot might like to see the smudge of my lipstick there.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He is at their sides in very short order, flushed and smiling, his gaze bright. "My loves!"

[timebethine]

For a moment, the kiss stuns Laertes; he freezes with Susan held against him, the music going suddenly hollow and distant in his ears. He wants her, he realizes, but he doesn't want to have had her--he doesn't want to be a lover to her, to have her understanding of him always colored by the knowledge of his body. He doesn't want anything between them to change. It feels as though their friendship is a precipice that he has scaled through great effort of will, straining fingers and toes jammed into the crevices of a sheer rock face, and now the buffeting storm of his desire threatens to hurl him into the abyss.

Then he shakes himself, and lets go to draw Lancelot in for a kiss. "My sweet-heart," he says. There is lipstick staining the corner of his mouth, blood-red.