MABON } 22nd September

[falsify]

The times, they are a'changing. But in this case, it's the same way they change every year. The 22nd of September is the Autumn Equinox, and aside from it being a great time for witches to get up to all sorts of shady shit with fae, it's time for the seasonal change in power between the two Courts. And in typical Fae fashion, this event is to be marked with a hugely ostentatious party. They've taken over Crystal Palace Park for a party that'll be going near on 24 hours. The trees are lit with twinkling lights, and many fae have chosen to forgo their glamours — some are indescribably beautiful, others monstrous, and quite a few... Well, they look more or less human, but obviously it doesn't bother them and it shouldn't bother you either! There is dancing, flirting, and laughter. And the drinks and food are free flowing. Slipping between realms is also extremely easy, but there's been strict instruction not to steal any mortals tonight or there'll be hell to pay. This also marks the first official appearance of Eames as the Lord of Autumn, (it's not something he could readily get out of, you see,) so expect plenty of gossip about how odd it is he seems to shy away from his title, his obsession with mortals, and how very un-Fae it is of him to cancel the hunt.
	The RULES are as follows: All vampires must have a fae chaperone. The open invite does extend to vampires, but we can't just have them walking around doing whatever they like, can we? In addition, drinking blood is strictly forbidden. Consensual or not, any vampire found drinking blood within a half mile radius of the park will be killed. It's just not good manners. Violence is also forbidden. It's just not fun for everyone. If you really need to have it out with someone, challenge them to a duel. The children's playground has been made into a duelling area with guards to make sure it all goes smoothly. There are weapons available and they're all very medieval.
That's about it, they aren't a very rule-heavy bunch and honestly just want to have a fun night.

Comments

OTA

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl only showed up because the fae that had given him a nice little favor had suggested he come and enjoy himself. Suggested in the way that said it wasn't really a suggestion. And as much as Daryl didn't like feeling cornered, he also couldn't say he much wanted to return to the inconvenience of finding a place to strip down before shifting. It was freeing to have that extra bit of power. To be able to simply go without any thought given to it. More so than he'd expected. A heady little rush.

So he came. Made sure the man? woman? he wasn't really sure which, or if it was neither, whatever the fae was, he'd made sure it had seen him. Said hi. Made awkward small talk, then tried to go on his way. But every time he'd headed for an exit, he'd somehow gotten turned around and arrived back near the center of the festivities. After the fourth time he realized there was a glamour or some shit on him forcing him to stick around a while.

And so, resigned to his fate to 'enjoy the party' for the night, he made sure not to try and leave, but definitely hung to the edges of the crowds outside of his forays to get booze. And after the fifth drink he was actually starting to feel a pleasant buzz. Get into the spirit a little. Smile and toast when someone lifted their glass.

"BOOYAH!"

---

Closer to dawn, Daryl had started to wind down and get tired. Both from the drinking and the legitimate partying he'd ended up getting into. It was a strange dicotomy, really. Bobcats like him were most awake and active and dusk and dawn. But he was yawning and blinking sleep from his eyes, not really fighting it, but not able to fall into that welcoming bliss of exhaustion. He wanted to sleep, was tired, just couldn't do it.

He did, however, shift fully into the bobcat and start trying to find quiet or dark places to hide in his attempt to curl up and sleep. Or a warm spot like that lap over there. Screw it. Who cared if he was twice as big as a regular house cat? He could still take over a lap if he wanted to. That was the alcohol talking, of course. Or maybe the glamour that wouldn't let him leave. Maybe something else. But he wasn't in any state to really notice as he hopped up on the seat and then padded his way over to claim that comfy looking lap as his pillow and bed. He could curse himself when he was sober. For now, he was gonna purr.

[knightscode]

Lancelot hadn't been expecting to see Daryl there, the man seemed too grumpy of a sort of person to enjoy a fae party, but as he smiled at him and lifted his drink a little in greeting he'd expected the reply of booyah! even less.

His eyebrows loft a little and a smirk of amusement takes over his face, eyes dropping to his drink as he takes a sip to try and hide it before he threads through closer.

Hello to you too, he thinks.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," he admits once he's close enough to be heard over the party. "Then again, I didn't think Faolan would come either."

Maybe they came together, though, who knows.

[dirtyredneck]

He was only enjoying it because he was three sheets to the wind and not really in a bad mood to begin with. He toasted Lance half-in greeting, half as an excuse to take another shot straight from the bottle, and laughed loudly as it was taken from him and exchanged for a fuller bottle by one of the fae working the crowd. By then Lance had made his way over and Daryl's attention was drawn to him.

At the mention of Faolan, he took a look around. Didn't see him.

"Got invited, didn't I?" Daryl asked good naturedly. It wasn't like Lance had known he'd been invited. "He probably did, too."

[knightscode]

"Invited doesn't mean you have to come, but I suppose if there's free food and drink..."

Then why not? He shrugs slightly, flickers Daryl another smile. He seems to be having fun, so maybe he misjudged him. Maybe he's more of a party type than he first thought.

"I admit, I was a... little cautious myself -- but things seem to be going fine for now."

When the fae get drunker though, who knows. Lancelot may be steeped in fae magic himself, but he wouldn't trust a fae more than he had to. Especially not this many on one place.

[dirtyredneck]

"If he didn't come, he'd offend someone," Daryl said with an air of authority, trying not to slur his words too much. Then he leaned in and took a long sniff of the man's odor. "How come you don't smell like him?"

[knightscode]

'He', Lancelot assumes in this context, is Faolan. Which... well, might be true -- Fae can be fickle. Lancelot doesn't think he has any particular contacts to offend, though, and he's debating that when the second question catches him off guard. Smell like him...?

Daryl is a shifter, he thinks, so he supposes he has a good sense of smell. Why would he smell like Faolan? Maybe if they'd been... sitting near each other?

"Well -- we... didn't travel here together I suppose?" he hazards, wondering if that's the right answer.

[dirtyredneck]

Okay, yeah, that made sense, except they were boyfriend's right? Shouldn't they have been all up on each other already if they'd seen each other here? Faolan was always sniffing around Lance's ass when the man was around. Well, whatever. Daryl didn't really care. Just found it odd.

"Huh," was his very articulate answer before shrugging and taking another long drink. "Why the glitter?

Because hell, Daryl was drunk, knew it, and even he'd managed to avoid it thus far.

[anniesgonemad]

Annie isn't really drinking. She wants to remain clear headed enough that the crowds (and the vampires) don't bother her. Finnick assured her that there was to be no violence at the festival, and so Annie had gone with him, dressing her best for the autumnal festival. She knew what it meant- Finnick's court was falling out of power, but it was a fae celebration all the same. It was important she be there for him.

It's the loud Southern Booyah! that gets her to turn and look and actually see a tipsy looking Daryl. "Daryl!" She cries, bouncing over towards him. "I didn't expect you to be here. Uhm- is booyah still a thing in US? When you drink?" She preferred a quiet cheers.

[dirtyredneck]

Apparently not expecting him to be there was a running theme. Daryl was far enough gone and in a good enough mood that he didn't take it to heart. Yet. And he liked Annie.

"I dunno," he answered her, taking another long drink. "I ain't been there in nearly three years."

[anniesgonemad]

And honestly, Annie meant nothing by it. She was happy to see him, but her use of words often left something to be desired. Like other phrases.

"That long! I had no idea!" She hadn't been back to Ireland in near that long, too, so she shouldn't have been so surprised. "I'm glad you're here!" Both at the party, and with them.

[dirtyredneck]

"Yeah, didn't join up 'til I'd been here a year or so. Faolan's dumb ass wasn't a sell out back then," he went on, leaning toward her somewhat as his nose crinkled and he looked like he was attempting to tell a secret or keep his voice down. He wasn't successful, but he wasn't at a point of caring that much. "You old enough to drink?"

[anniesgonemad]

Annie frowned deeply, her nose scrunching up. "I, ah, I don't think he's a sell out." She trusted Faolan. He was a good man, with his heart in the right place. And it was good to have one of their own so close with Sylvia. It made things like their partnership possible. But she didn't want to talk politics.

Annie blinks. "...Yes? I'm 22."

[dirtyredneck]

"Then why ain't you?" He laughed, pushing his current bottle toward her while he looked around for another to snatch. There was plenty around. It shouldn't be hard.

"Faolan is a sell out," he asserted once he'd found another bottle. Paused to take a long drink from it. "But he's trying not to be no more. I'll give him that."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude did not exactly belong here at this party, although that was mostly to do with the fact that it was a party that was fronted by fae -- being a vampire himself -- rather than any other reason in particular. In truth, Jean-Claude and parties have always gone rather hand in hand, and associating in the general population of the city that he does, he looks right at home among the drinking, dancing, glittering masses of this gathering. Even if Jean-Claude is not drinking himself. At least -- not the way that might satisfy him.

One of the benefits of running the business he does, of course, is that it gives him many connections. And so long as his dancers maintain those connections themselves, it allows him to reap the benefits as best he can. Thus he finds himself with an invitation to a party that he might otherwise be entirely unwelcome at. Stephen knows that, as his chaperone, he only really needs to get him through the figurative door, however. From there Jean-Claude has been left on his own to mingle as he so desires. And mingle he does, well throughout the evening, until he can feel dawn approaching, deep within his bones. So long as he keeps his daylight ring on, however, he knows he need not worry.

And so he doesn't. Instead contenting himself with another glass of wine and a quiet seat on the edge of the revelry. Watching the crowd, sitting as still and serene as a statue. Which is probably what draws the cat to him, he muses to himself, as he glances down to him curling up in his lap. For he knows that it's a him. He has seen this cat before, after all.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were beginning to grow fond of me, mon ami," he comments, a smile spreading across his face as he reaches out a hand to stroke the soft space between the creature's ears.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl did not ask for his head to be petted and while the purring does not stop, he does twist his body around enough to grab the offending hand with one of his paws. His claws are only a little out. Just a warning prick not meant to draw blood.

After he was certain there would be no more of that, Daryl relaxed into the new position he was in and finished turning over. His belly was up and his paws in position to grab should Jean-Claude do something he didn't like. He attempted to give the man a warning glare that clearly said the vampire was full of shit. But it mostly just ended up being a half-lidded yawn while his purring got slightly louder.

So maybe he was okay with the asshole. Guy wasn't all that bad.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude had half-expected the protest, and so he spreads his fingers wide in response to the cat's threat to show that he does not mean anything by it. He's harmless, really he is... (Sure he is...)

If he didn't know that the attempt would likely get his arm ripped off he might have hazarded a belly rub, with a position like that. Luckily for both their sakes, Jean-Claude knows better. At least, he understands cats. He's got several big cat shifters dancing at his club, after all. It's hardly the first cuddle he's had with one. He does not want it to be his last.

"You are too much, mon ami," he says instead, smiling down at the cat. "And far too much of a temptation. What am I to do with my hands now, if not adore you with them?" He raises his eyebrows slightly. Yes, in fact, he is full of shit. But only in the best of ways.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's purr got louder and he slow blinked up at the man. Then he stretched. Front paws going out as far as they could, up toward his chin. Claws coming out just slightly from the flex. One of them landed on the skin there and when his stretch was over he let it stay resting where it was.

The message being 'get creative'. His stomach was actually very wide open. It was his back he'd had a problem with. As long as the skritching on his belly wasn't hard or too frantic, he wasn't really opposed to it. And if it did start being a problem, he could grab the offending hand with all four of his paws. A total win win.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude knows a trap when he sees it. And yet -- is this an invitation? He chuckle's at the cat's antics, yet finds them comfortable in their familiarity. He has dancers that are cats, after all, and he has found that many shifters seem to be rather free with their affections in this way. Perhaps it is the animal in them, needing the companionship. He isn't going to stress himself out trying to quantify it, regardless.

He reaches up to rest a hand against the paw on his skin. Not so much to move it as bracing it there. Ready with a quick grip lest those claws get any bad ideas. And he takes his chances with the other hand, stroking it down the cat's leg and gently scratching nails across the exposed stomach. "Comme ça?" he inquires wryly, in his native tongue.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl was definitely more comfortable being physically affectionate as a bobcat than he was when human. Drunk on top of instincts were well beyond enough for him to drop his guard. He might argue that some asshole fae dumped catnip on him at some point, too, if this ever got brought up later. It was decidedly not normal for him. But it was happening and he wasn't all that upset about it just then and there.

When the nails scratched against his belly, Daryl purred all the louder. His back arched and his head fell backwards into the bench. Then he rolled a little. Stretched some more. Wiggled like he was trying to get those nails down to a specific place. When he felt himself starting to roll off Jean-Claude's knees, however, Daryl reacted without thought.

And in mere moments, the vampire suddenly had himself a lap full of Southern American Redneck holding himself in place with one hand on the back of the bench and the other clinging tightly to Jean-Claude's shirt. One leg had already slid down to the point his heel was digging into the ground, but the other was frantically kicking out to try and catch the edge of the seat back so he wouldn't continue to slip. Because apparently all of two feet was really too far to fall when he was as drunk and comfortable as he was.

[outstandingbalance]

It's true that Natasha has a tempting lap. Maybe a little small for a cat Daryl's size, but otherwise quite inviting. Not that she'd particularly thought about it one way or another until he starts climbing into her lap and purring.

"Why hello," she says, bemused.

She'll have to be leaving soon. It's getting close to sunrise. There's still a little time left, though, and this is too surprising not to see how this plays out.

Curious, she offers her hand to the bobcat.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl purred loudly and pushed his head forward, bumping her fingers with his nose before pushing under them. His ears flattened out in discomfort of having the hand anywhere near them. But she was a friend and he trusted her. More than he trusted anyone else around. Enough that he shifted his shoulders to encourage her to continue the stroke down his back.

[outstandingbalance]

That's a clear enough invitation. She takes it, stroking his head and ruffling the soft fur along his back gently, seeing if he'll arch into her hand as she pets him. "Aren't you bold?" she murmurs, as much to herself as to him. If she'd have known, she might have asked to see his cat form sooner.

"Is that what you want?"

[dirtyredneck]

He doesn't quiet arch into her hand until she gets closer to his tail. The section of his spine that curved above his back legs. Those powerful muscles certainly did push upward into her touch and the stubby tail of his whipped lazily back and forth. If he'd had a longer one, it would be curling up against her arm.

On the opposite side of her body, Daryl's front paws started to kneed into her pants. He did attempt to control how much the claws came out so they weren't digging into her skin. But tiny pinpricks still happened. This was definitely what he was wanting at the moment.

If Natasha was sensitive enough to it, she might be able to feel the inconsistent lines on his back as she's petting downward. The many, many raised bumps of old scars hidden by his fur. Most of them running in oddly parallel sets of two.

[outstandingbalance]

Natasha is observant, and sensitive. She notices. She doesn't linger over them, though; she knows something about scars. Instead, she focuses on petting him, her fingers working through the fur patiently, a smile playing around her lips.

The claws don't bother her much. She can ignore the little pinpricks, even laugh at them softly. They're proof that he's enjoying it, that long with the purring and the way his tail flicks around, the way his back arches.

"I don't think I've seen you this friendly before."

[dirtyredneck]

There's a short interruption in the purring as he shifts his front paws so he can bend his head down and politely bite at her leg to remind her he isn't being all that friendly. It's a teasing bite, though. Playful. The way his purring came back even sounded a little like a chuckle before it got back to it's more even tone.

He did stop kneading her legs, however. He pushed up on his front paws, lifting his shoulders and head in a long stretch. Then he pulled back and down, butt lifting up into her hand as he continued the stretching. Mouth open wide in a yawn. He ended his long stretch sitting up. Big as he was, it wasn't a stretch at all for his gaze to meet hers. Just a moment as he slow-blinked. Then yawned again. And then, finally, tucked his head to bump the top of it against her mouth and nose, smothering her with all that fur while he leaned the rest of him into her chest.

[A little like this asshole but not as assholish.]