undergrounds | [open] Vampire Ball - May 26th (backdated)

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[open] Vampire Ball - May 26th (backdated)

The invitations go out a week in advance. Some of which are hand written (ink on parchment, of course), to those of whom he wishes to see personally, though of course they are welcome to bring guests. The more the merrier, or so the saying goes. Especially in the case of such an event as this. Jean-Claude is vying for the spot of President of the Night Council, after all, and while the event is not technically connected to the election, timing is everything, mes amis. And what an event it is.

The instructions on the invitation are quite simple. There is to be a ball. But not just any ball, a Vampire Ball. If you are a vampire, an ally, or interested in becoming both, you are more than welcome to attend. It is a night to celebrate the collective history of the Nest of London. Formal historical costume is a requirement of attendance. Masks will be allowed as well, though the event is technically not a masquerade. All wood and silver will be checked at the door, for this is a night of entertainment.

The event is being held in a private historic home, presumably for the atmosphere. In the foyer there is a coat check (along with wood and silver check, courtesy of Guilty Pleasure's well-loved bouncers). The guests are funneled through from there into the main ballroom, where yes, there is a live string quartet playing. How did Jean-Claude afford such decadence? It helps when you have lived for so long as he has and have had very little to spend money on besides clothes and decadence. It certainly couldn't be his own private residence -- could it?

Off to the side of the ballroom is an array of chaise lounges and other sofas and chairs, while on the other may be located several tables of refreshments. It is clearly indicated which table is intended for the vampires and which is for those who are still among the living. There is another bouncer posted on watch over the refreshments, and the punch in particular -- they need not have a repeat of the last time someone spiked their drinks in such a fashion after all. There is quite a selection of finger foods on the table for those who are so inclined to partake in such delicacies, and there are offers of champagne, wine, and punch for that table. There are finger foods on the other table as well, although not as many, and each one has an accompanying card indicating the donor's name and blood type, just in case you were wondering why they were for the vampires.

The house is of course bigger than the ballroom and the foyer, but few guests are allowed to venture up the front stairs or beyond the little hall to where the restrooms are located. That does not mean, of course, that there are not those who manage to sneak past the little corded ropes meant to keep such troublemakers within check, especially when the bouncers are otherwise preoccupied. There are all sorts of fun rooms to explore.

And so many costumes from so many eras! Guests are encouraged to talk amongst themselves and share memories of the good old days for those lived through them, or ask questions if there are curiosities from those who did not. Today is a golden age, Islington Nest is at its strongest yet, and it is a time to celebrate what it is to be Vampire. There is more to such a life than drinking blood and having fangs, a sophistication and experience beyond the hunger. If nothing else, Jean-Claude hopes to share this with the attendees on this evening.

Which at least manages to begin without a hitch, but if you should manage to stay for the end of the night, prepare for some fireworks to ensue. For what is a party without a little drama...

(ooc note: anyone is welcome to attend, though if you are anti-islington you will not get very far in the door before being turned away. certain allies/those who have helped jean-claude in the past will have received direct invitations, but there is a general buzz passed around the nest and islington allies ahead of time that will have spread through the supernatural community leading up to the day itself. as stated above, historical costume is a must -- vampires are encouraged to wear something from an era they lived through, though humans are welcome to whatever they desire! masks are fun so wear one if you like though there will be no anonymity here.

details will be in jean-claude's comment below, but his ex, asher, is going to be crashing the party at the end of the night, so if you're there for the end of the evening expect that as well. i will make a comment for asher as well on his own so you can tag with him before the main event if you decide you'd like to skip out on the fireworks as he and jean-claude butt heads for the first time in hundreds of years.)

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"Magic," he says with a playful wink and an easy smile, it's the easiest way to guarantee it stays right all night after all.

But he's not the only one who looks outstanding tonight, and he reaches to take Nancy's hand, intending to lift her hand for a twirl if she'll let him, "but don't you look fabulous tonight?"

Well there's an unusual take on period wear and it's a stellar look of course, he feels like he saw her rocking a more intense version of the same look back in the 80s and it's a great aesthetic on her.

Eames comes over on one of the rare occasions she's without Natasha, a warm hand on her shoulder in greeting, "so are the Banshees reuniting?"

He manages to intone like it's a real question, eyebrows raised like he's truly curious and talking to Ms Sioux herself.

Nancy echoes his smile. She's not surprised, though of course she tends to think of the mundane options, first. Her hair is held up with a lot of hairspray and bobby pins.

At the signal, Nancy twirls under Eames' arm, light on her toes. "Thank you!" She says, "I wasn't sure about the dress at first. Considering I'm not exactly the stick figure women were in the 20s..." Everyone here could admit, Nancy was quite curvy.

Evie turns to Eames- clothing from before her time, naturally, but he pulled it off so well. Though the hair, she had to think, was a bit much. She doesn't say so, however. Instead, she smiles back at him.

"We're in the midst of negotiation," she tells him with a laugh, playing along. It was good to know he appreciated her take on the theme.

Cesare rolls his eyes. He doesn't like being given the misbehaving boy treatment. He's clearly too old for that and has proven to Nancy many a time that he's no immature teenager. Just because Cesare isn't paying her anymore, it doesn't mean he likes being scolded and talked down to.

"I'm sorry, Nancy, but she undoubtedly is. I don't know what image of her you've whipped up in your mind, but she's been badgering me for more business for weeks."

He shrugs.

"Maybe she's copying you?" If Nancy isn't directly involved in Lydia's dealings, then it's likely there was at least some idea sharing going on.

Cesare is stuck in a bit of a difficult situation. For one thing, Lydia most definitely isn't his date. He had hired her services a couple weeks ago and she's been bothering him ever since. Cesare has no doubt, however, that telling Eames the truth would make him look even worse. It dosn't exactly look great when you were soliciting the work of a sex worker just weeks before the start of your presidential campaign.

Cesare has a right mind to roll his eyes at Eames and claim that he's sure Eames himself has done something similar. Cesare knows Eames is old. As long as they're consenting adults, Cesare has no doubt that Eames has been with someone considerably younger than him. After all, Eames is an old fart. It's difficult not to be younger.

But that too is a bad idea, an admission of guilt and responsibility that Cesare is not willing to take on. And so he smiles at Eames, as politely as he can, and speaks as firmly as possible.

"She's a supporter of my campaign," Cesare replies. "She likes my message, what I'm doing for London. Has anyone ever liked yours?" He asks it with a smile as if it's a perfectly innocent question, but he's quite clearly implying that it's difficult for Eames to have supporters and fans. Particularly dressed like that.

Eames raises his eyebrows and nods when Cesare says she's a supporter, as if actually interested in Cesare's nonsense. He can dress it up however he wants, but they both know the fact of the matter is Cesare has a child hanging off him, and he highly doubts it's something the man wants.

"Oh? And what is it she's supporting?" The question is an obvious attempt at bait, and Eames isn't taking it. Especially not when there's something so entertaining about the situation Cesare has found himself in, and he drops his voice a little with his question, "she knows you can't bring back free school meals, right?"

"I taught her how to give a good blowjob, but that was after your date." She crosses her arms over her chest.

"I'm out of that life, Cesare. And Lydia's not going anywhere near it. She's just absolutely boy crazy. And seems to think you're her boyfriend because you fucked her and gave her money." She sighs.

"Why did you think she was?"

Oh, right. That.

"How unfortunate. Well, I'm glad he has your support." Even if it doesn't count for anything. They need votes, not support. Joscelin smiles thinly.

Why is he even making small talk with this woman if nothing is going to come of it?

"She's old enough to vote in this election." Unlike Eames, who still has no voice in the matter. Truly, Cesare is surprised he's even giving him the time of day right now.

"Though it's odd that you seem to take objection right in the middle of my campaign, rather than when I got along well with Nancy." After all, Nancy was a similar age back when he was purchasing her services. Clearly this is a poorly formed political move. "When we both got on well with Nancy," he adds, because he's pretty sure Eames was sleeping with Nancy too. After all, who wouldn't?

Wow, how wrong can one man be? Eames lets out a sudden and sharp laugh, not entirely surprised by what Cesare has to say but still finding it hilarious nevertheless, and shakes his head.

"I never said I objected," Eames says, still very amused. He finds it a little disgusting maybe, but he doesn't have any particular objections beyond it being poor taste on Cesare's part. It's certainly not like he's hurting anyone, not if the way Lydia seems obsessed with him is anything to go by.

Still, a point must be made, and Eames tips his head a little toward Cesare and lowers his voice so it won't carry past the two of them. "But if you must know? I don't fuck children."

Cesare's eyes narrow for a second. He doesn't like Eames' suggestion and the words are vulgar to say the least. He speaks in a lower tone to match Eames' as he takes one more step closer, leaning into the conversation.

"Nancy and Lydia are delightful young women, and I suggest that you speak of them as such," he says warningly. He's sure neither would be interested in being described so condescendingly as children, even if Cesare would have done the same exact thing in private mere moments earlier.

Well, he's seen one of those delightful women throwing up in the expensive ceramics not so long ago and he's called Nancy a child to her face before, so he doesn't especially care about Cesare's opinion on the matter.

"Please. Lydia's a little girl with a passport and a push-up bra, and Nancy's naive enough to think Cooper's a good person to settle down with."

Cesare rolls his eyes, still not quite believing her. For an ex-whore, Nancy's pretty judgemental right now.

"She strolled up to me dressed like a harlot and asked about sex within two minutes of us meeting. We went to her place, we fucked and I paid her afterwards. Call me old fashioned, but that's an awful lot like a whore to me."

He bristles a little bit.

"She's not my girlfriend." Cesare doesn't do girlfriends. That's why he pays people: to avoid that trouble.

For once, Cesare actually agrees with Eames on something. Cooper is a dreadful waste of space and anyone with any vague sense can see that. But it won't do Cesare any good to say that. Instead, he raises his eyebrows a little in false surprise and tilts his head with a smile.

"With charm like that, however do you get laid?" he asks, having clearly abandoned any consideration of trying to impress or get along well with Eames at this point.

"Oh," he intones with false pity, "do you want advice? I understand it must be difficult for you to approach people when they're old enough to see past an expensive suit."

"Hey, at least they can appreciate a good suit. That's clearly something you haven't quite figured out over your many years." Cesare replies with a shrug, trying not to let Eames bother him. At least Eames is acknowledging that he's well dressed. Because he damn well is.

Oh, is that supposed to be an insult? How sweet. If anything, Eames just looks amused by the dig at his clothes. He knows what his wardrobe looks like, and he knows he looks good right now too. It's hardly his fault Cesare doesn't understand how to do period dress.

"Well I said 'expensive' not 'good,' but sure, you can have that." His smile doesn't go anywhere; to an onlooker he probably seems like someone happy to be talking to a friend, "I know you mustn't get many compliments. Have to take them wherever you can, mm?"

Nancy'd been putting off speaking with Lydia all evening. She knew that it would come down to a very uncomfortable truth, and she'd have to be the one to say it: Cesare was not Lydia's boyfriend, and actually believed she was a prostitute. If Nancy didn't tell her, Cesare was going to probably be a huge jerk about it. So it was the best for everyone if Nancy be the bearer of bad news.

But now is not the time for bad news, and Nancy's almost thankful that Lydia is too drunk to notice she's there. Until the poor girl starts vomiting into a vase. A few martinis in her, and Nancy still knows what to do. So she's at Lydia's side, one hand holding up her hair, the other stroking her back. "There there," she tells her, "Get it all out, love." She'll text Jean-Claude about it later and apologize on Lydia's behalf.

She's actually offended you think she's Daybreak.

Nancy swallows, the feeling that she's done something wrong rising from her feet. She always felt like a fool, now, whenever she spoke with Joss. And he still looked like that sweet little boy, and she wanted to believe he was that little boy.

Things were easier when cruelty wore an ugly face.

"Of course. I didn't know you two were close."

"Or maybe she's an eighteen-year-old who wants to act like an adult and be the sort of girl she imagines a handsome fellow like you would take home." Seriously, did Cesare not own a mirror? Did he not have thousands of portraits painted of him? Was the very image of Jesus not recreated in his image? GOSH.

"Did she ever ask you for money? I recall being very up front about them at the beginning. I'd have taught her that, wouldn't I have?" She cocks her hips out slightly. "I know she's not your girlfriend- I tried to tell her that, do you want to see the conversation?" She starts to go through her phone to try to find it for him.

That actually does surprise him.

"I suppose you could call it that," he shrugs. Didn't everyone in the Nest know that? "Jean-Claude and I have been aquatinted for...one hundred twenty years, or so?" Actually exactly one hundred twenty, come to think of it. "He's a hopelessly sentimental fool, but a fair friend."

She's only recently started to need to pay attention to Nest politics, and who was who's friend. Her friendship with Jean-Claude was new, and she was still trying to decide how much of a friend she wanted him to be.

"Really! Huh." The bartender slides her her martini, and she hands him a five pound note. "That's a long time. You aren't French like he is, are you?" She didn't think so, but Joss had surprised her a few times before this.

Nancy takes a drink of her martini. It's hardly her first of the evening.

"Half," Joscelin admits. "My mother was Norman, though I don't remember her well. My father tired of her and set her up in a nunnery somewhere as soon as I could toddle. He was an upjumped cleric with pretensions of nobility and considered himself thoroughly English. I wouldn't be surprised if he weren't a bit French himself, come to think of it. We weren't so far removed from the Conqueror not to all be a little mixed."

Cesare isn't entirely impressed. He can understand Nancy's point, but he doesn't care for it.

"If she doesn't want to be a whole then she shouldn't take cash for her services." His voice lowers and he leans in towards her in the darkness

"It's an honest business. We both know that. I don't think this is something that you need to protect her from." Over drinking? Yes. Social faux pas? Yes. But not Cesare giving her some money for a quick lay.

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[open] Vampire Ball - May 26th (backdated)

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