Game Opening: May Ball

[undergroundmods]

LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED.

"" (Watch on YouTube)

It had to be done.

Welcome all to the Redbright Institute's May Ball! This evening is a celebration of the Institute's achievements over the past year. Students aged 16 and above can attend on their own, while younger students must be accompanied by a parent or guardian. Meanwhile, friends and guests of the Institute are invited as a gesture of friendship and harmony between the various factions.

Rules and etiquette
• This is a black tie event. Formal attire is required.
• No weapons. This is a school, there are children present. Any weapons or objects that could be used as weapons will be confiscated.
• No drugs or alcohol. Obviously. Don't try to sneak any in.
• No violence.

There is security within the school and present at the event. (In fact, if your character is a member of the Redbright Institute, you could have them acting as security if you want.) They will respond to and put a stop to any trouble.

Places to go
The main action takes place in the large Assembly Hall. This is where the Chancellor Sylvia Redbright will give her address. It's also where you can party later on. The disco is family-friendly – not exactly a rave, but the kids will love it.

Drinks and snacks are available in the dining hall. The drinks are non-alcoholic. Vampires, no need to worry about your cravings: blood cocktails are provided! They're given in good faith on the assumption that you won't be snacking on anyone else tonight.

Just off the dining hall, one of the classrooms has been converted into a chill-out area. The lights are off, the desks and chairs have been replaced by beanbags and there's a table in the corner with a chocolate fountain, marshmallows and strawberries. A video of young witches taking part in various night-time rituals (they mostly seem to involve chanting and bonfires) plays silently on the screen.

One of the lecture theatres has been opened up to showcase students' work from the past year. On the screen you can watch a slideshow of notable events and achievements. Strangely enough there aren't many people in this room.

Outside, there is a giant chessboard on the lawn. The pieces are made of plastic and can easily be moved around. Why, you ask? Why not, is the answer.

Finally, a large marquee has been set up in the quad. This is the adults-only area, with wine and cocktails served at the bar, nibbles available at a few high tables dotted around and a sophisticated atmosphere. No children under 18 allowed. (Note that the legal drinking age is 18.)

Timeline of events
20:00 – Doors open.
20:57 – Sunset.
21:15 – Sylvia Redbright makes her address in the Assembly Hall.
22:00 – Disco in the Assembly Hall. The DJ has atrocious taste.
01:00 – Disco stops. The event officially ends.

Comments

[alethiological]

Assembly Hall / Dining Hall

It really was quite a speech, powered by Sylvia's sheer presence and control of her words. The crowd reacts accordingly - cheers and applause, deafening and enthused and so very very orchestrated, just like most crowds tend to be. The gray vibrations no one else feels echo with approval, admiration, a few smaller waves of discontent and fear so thoroughly drowned out by the rest it's impossible to tell who felt them.

In a horde of supporters, it's quite easy to overlook the ones that don't, ones that avert gazes and give false smiles. One that gives neither can slip out of the room as easily as air.

- Oh hey, there's pretzel sticks.


Marquee

There are way too many teenagers here this is not okay- At least the Marquee is absent of them and it's easier to cut of conversations as civilly short as possible. The next time Will can be spotted in a spot it's easy to corner him, it's ordering a drink at the bar and trying to appear as invisible as (in)humanly possible. With the subtle appearance changes in a horde of black suits, it's actually pretty easy.

It's only when someone gets too close does he glance over, only a second, then closes his eyes and turns back away. There might actually be annoyance there.

"I'm busy. Bother someone else."


idk choose your own adventure

He's ghosting around everywhere except the chill room and the teenage rave for obvious reasons, so feel free to make up your own thing.

Assembly Hall / Dining Hall

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji grabbed the pretzel sticks and popped one in his mouth, hope this dude eyeballing them didn't want any.

"Eh... they're kinda dry." That was his reaction to the speech, okay. When were they going to break out the booze, though?

[alethiological]

Move it, Seelie, sharing is caring or. Something. Either way, he only takes two.

"Wait until later tonight." Directed at his unasked question with unnerving accuracy. But that's all in his head. Obviously.

I'm going to assume Heiji can figure out he's fae but not necessarily outcast fae because he's new

[detectiveofthewest]

You could have those two pretzel sticks, weird stranger. In fact, you could have all of the rest of them, because Heiji was going to hand you them. Or more like shove them in your general direction. Enjoy that, he didn't really like them that much.

"I don't really like waitin'. They got anything fun planned for later on?"

works for me o7

[alethiological]

The sudden vehemence against pretzels gets a raised eyebrow, but the expression melts off a second later. Weirdo.

"Dance at the assembly hall. If you're into that." Yes, everyone go there so there's less people bugging him. Good.

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji made a face. "Blech, not really. So why're you here, anyway? You ain't look like a student."

He could be wrong, though. Like maybe this guy was secretly a wide-eyed teenager just trying to make his way in the world and learn about himself and others.

[alethiological]

"Because I'm not."

An immediate answer, and there may be an undercurrent of 'wow you're stupid' marring the monotone.

[detectiveofthewest]

Well... as garrulous as Heiji could be, even he could tell this dude didn't much want to talk. So he shrugged and set off in the direction of the DJ booth, where hopefully he could get the DJ to play Iggy Azalea or something.

B - because she had to bother him somehow ok

[megidoomed]

"But bothering other people is boring."

Okay, so she may have completely disregarded the "formal wear only" stipulation for attending, but in her defense there's no ghost-accessible tailor in London. It also helps that most usually can't see her, the current gathering being no exception - a blur and a voice is all she appears as to most, and both are easy to lose in a crowd.

"Besides, being anti-social doesn't count as being busy. Especially at a party."

best occasional-housemate

[alethiological]

The lack of proper clothing doesn't even get her judged. To him, she looks as real as anyone else, if a bit more transparent, but how many others here only feel a gust of wind and nothing more. Besides - it is completely unfair that she gets away with it and he's still stuck in a suit. There's no justice in the world.

"It counts if I'm eavesdropping." Technically. Barely technically. There's a pause here, almost tempted to stonewall her until she leaves, but. But. How many others can see her? Let alone converse with her? There's gotta be better choices of people to bother than him, unless he's the only one.

Bah, interpersonal relationships. To hell with 'em. At least the whiskey understands. "S'rare to see you outside your usual haunts. Enjoying yourself?"

at least she cant raid his fridge

[megidoomed]

Justice, clearly, is about as dead as she is. It's the only explanation for how she gets to pass in her raggedy civilian clothes in the midst of a black-tie party without so much as an eyebrow raised.

She'd attracted the attention of a few witches early on but nothing came of it - was careful to avoid any room that Sylvia might've been in, to minimize the risks of 'accidental' banishment. Sure, she hadn't really done anything to warrant banishment yet, but some folks can get a bit too trigger happy. "Doesn't look like your eavesdropping. Mostly just looks like you're being grumpy."

Finding a space not already occupied with people may be easier if you're intangible, but it's still incredibly frustrating, so she perches on the bar counter instead. Less accidental bodyjacking that way. A bored sigh and a shrug accompanies her reply.

"I didn't want to miss the party. Not much I can do here, but looking around is still nice - so I guess I'm enjoying myself. Are you?"

as if there's anything in there

[alethiological]

There's a short exhale of a sigh to the grumpy comment. Even if it is slightly true, there's a bolt of gold eyes to a couple of groups in the room, seemingly enjoying the party less than the rest. It's always hard to find similar discontents, especially when they're mixed up amongst the other wavelengths.

And when there's a dead girl perched on the counter next to him. He'll get back to work in a minute. "Do I look like the social type?"

No. Doubly so with his terrible attitude included, ignoring the Possible Werewolf thing. There's a dismissing wave in the direction of the crowd with his free hand. No thanks, moving on, "Could always start knocking the lights out. Scare the crap outta the kids."

careful or she'll start filling it with stuff she finds to confuse you

[megidoomed]

She can't quite follow his gaze - it's harder for her to pick up on individual people these days when crowds tend to blur together. So she kicks her feet against-through the bar idly, the distinct lack of sound completely ignored. "If you're not social, it's a bit pointless to show up to parties."

Though she does have to pause at the suggestions, pretending to think it over before absently looking at the wall. Hahahah welp. "I may have already annoyed the DJ. His taste in music was terrible. They've probably fixed it by now, though."


( ooc: ALSO I JUST REALIZED I USED YOUR INSTEAD OF YOU'RE UP THERE, WOW. fml. )

so that's where the stapler went

[alethiological]

"My duties require this of me."

That is an extremely odd way to word that statement and the entire mild case of uncanny valley that comes of it is wiped away by a blank moment of registering that statement. Then an undignified scoff of a laugh, hidden behind his drink a second later. What a good poltergeist. "A shame. I would've watched if I knew."

it needed to be punished.

[megidoomed]

His duties.... huh. She gives him a very peculiar look at the phrasing, even if she doesn't comment on it directly. Sure, she has no clue what he is beyond 'someone who can see her', but that's a very rigid way to pass that along.

Which then gets discarded in favour of more forced apathy, even as she internally beams about her shenanigans. "I'd like to think the crowd appreciated it, but it was hard to tell. The DJ definitely didn't like the idea."

it did nothing wrong D:

[alethiological]

It's hard reading emotions off ghosts, their feedback gets lost amid the rest of the world's chatter, but even then this one easy to read. Ghost girl's a deadpan expression covering up a hellraiser.

She totally possessed the DJ.

Secondary evaluation, no one is screaming and terrible music is still echoing through the walls. DJ is alive. Which means possessing him is given the verdict of 'acceptable'. Ghost girl gets a cheers. "He deserved it."

it was a traitor to stapler-kind and also it bit me

[megidoomed]

Technically she didn't possess him, merely his rig, but his unspoken conclusion isn't that far off. Either way, she's pleased enough for it to be showing through the usual cloud of apathy, and it doesn't take much for it to bleed into her voice. "I would've held the good music for longer, but that'd start causing damage. And damage gets me kicked out."

Plus, the DJ'd been prepared and ended up putting a salt ring around his speakers after her little stunt. Rude.

"But it's the thought that counts."

Marquee

[mensrea]

Ha, ha, ha. The marquee free of teenagers, you say? You spoke too soon, Willard! As if summoned to the area purely to infuriate the man, Stiles ambles casually up to the bar. He’s doing something highly unnatural with his face—squinting his eyes and frowning a bit—all in an attempt of looking older than he really is. Mostly, he just looks constipated. When the man beside him addresses him, he shoots him a glance and then does a double take.

“You!” Well, there goes his cover; puberty is still rampaging within him, and his voice cracks a bit, totally destroying the illusion that he’s old enough to be here. “Hey dude, funny meeting you… Wait a sec.”

Holy shit, did this mean Will was…magical!? Looking somewhat awestruck, Stiles gapes at the guy in blatant curiosity.

[alethiological]

"You again." Merciful God in the Heavens, take him please. Stiles has to be some variation of meta-human. One of those with the passive powers they're not even aware of, because there is no way someone can hit that many buttons in such a precise combination as to drive him up the wall that efficiently. He's worse than his younger brother, this is just. It's.

what is that face how did he get in here did he bribe the bouncer or what is that face why is this happening did he just try to open the conversation with a trope what part of leave him alone does no one seem to understand this the brat is attracted way too much attention with how his voice twisted stop standing here theyll start assuming he knows him what is that face-

The snap from Wright back to Willard is practically audible, rather similar to the sound made when a glass is set back on the counter. Only slightly harder than necessary. Slightly.

"What's wrong with your brain?! Stop staring at me!"

[mensrea]

Alas, Will would not be impressed by the sad reality of how Stiles managed to worm his way into the marquee. Money did exchange hands, except the bouncer had incredulously stared at the American $10 before having Stiles thrown back into the assembly hall. Plan B had involved a $20, to similar results. Plan D finally got him inside at the cost of nothing but his pride; he'd caused a distraction and then dived behind a table. The tuxedo he's rented for the night will need a good cleaning.

"Nothing's wrong with my brain!" he retorts, though there's a flicker of sharp unhappiness that darkens his brow for a moment; that's a bit of a sore subject, considering his mother's history. "I just didn't realize you were one of them. That explains the hair, I bet."

Some witches have familiars. Some have dyed streaks of hair.

Yes, Will. Stiles believes you are a witch.

[alethiological]

And there's the exact moment he messed up, right around when 'them' comes out, because the anger immediately reigns back to total apathy. There's just a number of small changes that set off any fight-or-flight reflex Stiles has left. There's a faint change where the eyes staring at him switch from a faded gold to an almost-flowing yellow, the voice drops just enough to get an inhuman growl underlaying it, something in the air around them switches to something very cold and brittle and dead and even the bartender finds a better spot to be on the complete other side.

Or, you know, crushing the glass in his hand and not making any physical reaction that he felt it. But that's the most minor of the issues here.

"Care to repeat that?"

[mensrea]

The fact of the matter is, Stiles does not care to repeat it. Or perhaps more accurately, he is in no frame of mind to repeat it. Between everything that just happened within the span of half a minute—the irises shifting colors, the reverberance of the growl, the shattered glass—Stiles can do nothing more than make fish-gaping faces. Congratulations Stiles, you have found someone more terrifying than Derek Hale.

"Holy god, if you're going to kill me, can you do it after the party or something? I totally told my date I wasn't going to die and I need to return this tux. It's a rental!"

Stiles doesn't even understand what the hell set off Will, only that he is contemplating joining the bartender by the North Pole.

[alethiological]

Stiles wanted to get involved in the Underground, so he should be celebrating! Maybe. Or attempting to run, but it's a bit too late since a hand grabs out and shoots around his collar. Rental tux? The tux is now being used as a means to drag the obnoxious child clear out of the marquee. Everyone else is wise enough to get out of the way.

It's tempting to respond - don't worry, he'll return the tuxedo - because he knows the kid is. Well. Stupid. But to make Stiles panic properly, it's far more effective to stay stonewalled and silent as he's removed to a place completely devoid of anyone who could possibly save him, who could even hear his screams if he tried, Will's already wearing gloves there'd be no proof--

And then he gets shoved in a closet.

"Honestly, who walks up to someone and calls them out on being inhuman?" Honestly. The voice is still that enraged undertone, but it's easy to keep the door closed. Stiles does not get to see how casually he's leaning on it. Ugh, picking out glass shards, how annoying. "I'm more surprised no one else killed you first."

Oh. Right. "And if you accuse me of consorting with witches again, I'll kill ya."

[mensrea]

“Wha—h-hey!”

Scrambling not to be choked by the unforgiving pressure yanking him by the neck, he trots nervously alongside Will and thinks, uselessly, of Scott. If only his best friend were here. Scott would…beat Will up! Maybe growl back, or something. Piss a circle around Stiles to mark his wolfy territory. Wow, actually, forget that last bit. Stiles is pretty sure he’d rather be murdered. Which is what is probably going to happen. Will is just radiating serial killer vibes right now. God, he never even got to kiss Lydia Martin. Life is so unfair.

“Oomph!” Smacking into the back of the closet, he instinctively throws his arms out to the sides and places them against the small confined walls. There’s a coat hanger stabbing him in the head, but he ignores it.

“Wh-what!?”

Seriously!? With a sudden scowl, he tries to open the door; it doesn’t even budge. He can see Will’s shadow leaking through the slit at the bottom, and stamps a foot on it like a child.

“Witches aren’t inhuman,” he snaps, tone brittle, “and I don’t get what your problem is, dude. If you have such a witch complex, what the hell are you doing at one of their parties, huh?”

[alethiological]

The stamping is ignored and the struggles are totally ineffectual. It's an easy way to keep him in here while getting answers out, and much better than the alternative methods. Everything else is fine, but against humans it's always... distasteful.

"They're abominations. Not just witches, either. All of us are. The world would be a better place without us in it." The voice is entirely bland, listless and uncaring and the only other noise in Stiles' darkness is the clinking sounds of glass shards tapping together. There is nothing concerning or horrifying in this situation whatsoever.

Look on the bright side! Good news, Stiles found a line to the underground he's been hunting for! Bad news, he's trapped in a closet with an implied hunter standing outside it. Win some lose some.

"I'm here observing a threat. What I don't understand is why you're here. Getting involved is beyond suicidal. That's ignoring how you're trying to go about it."