undergrounds | Game Opening: May Ball

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Game Opening: May Ball

LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED.

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 The lights are off, the desks and chairs have been replaced by beanbags and there's a table in the corner with a chocolate fountain, marshmallows and strawberries.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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?"

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."

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. )

"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."

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'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."

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."

But it wasn't damaged. And if anything, it's teaching her how to get better at possessing electronics, which means it'll be easier for her to take over his computer. These are all positives.

"I'm sure it was a decent party for the time you ran it. Maybe look into being a DJ yourself."

Mischief for the greater good. If only the DJ understood her totally altruistic intentions, but alas. DJ Stephen likes his privacy.

Scarily enough, she does seem to consider the suggestion for a good few moments. "It would give me a good reason to practice on more complex bits of machinery. It'd have to be for the supernatural community though - maybe I could do funerals?"

... what have you done, Will. What have you done.

Edited (ggggrammar) 2015-05-25 21:59 (UTC)

There's a long pause here, mentally going over every funeral he's been to, where the direct family members only had the required amount of misery investment and everyone else was there for the free food.

Add in supernatural types because this is assuming she won't take a human mouthpiece for her hard efforts.

"...That might work," stated with a bemused tone, but whatever mental tirade he gets trapped in is nearly visible, staring off into space and one finger absently tracing the rim of his drink. "No idea where you'll get a mix kit."

"It can't be too hard to make one, right?"

The more she considers the idea, the more it grows on her - influenced in no small part by her longstanding belief that funerals are a fun get-together for the whole family. If her eyes were remotely normal looking, there'd be stars. "Or I'm sure there's one around that nobody would want. If someone let the DJ here have one it can't be too hard."

It is way harder to do than she's assuming and he is not having his apartment suddenly turn into a ghostly mixing studio.

Yet, it really says something for how strongly she feels about it. The air is saturated to the point of nausea with the myriad of vibrations coming off from this room, residues flowing through the walls from the dance hall muddling it up worse. Ghosts get swept up in the normal wear and tear of an empty room, but in this crowd her tone resounds, one tiny tap of a tuning fork and the echo that comes back is a burst of excitement and joy.

He doesn't even know her name.

"For the record, good kids wait until their birthday to start begging for presents."

You're an old softy, Will. A big ol' teddy bear under all that grump.

It takes a moment for his statement to sink in, past the building enthusiasm and wild ideas... but when it does, oh boy. She goes ethereally still, staring, trying to work out how much of it is a joke and whether she should laugh along. Because it has to be, right? She's getting in over her head and he's probably irritated, and part of why she hates the more positive moods is it makes her remember, too late, that other people have feelings too.

Presents weren't really a thing in the Megido household. Mostly thanks to Damara's bad habits.

"Oh, I-- probably sounded overbearing. Sorry!" The cheerful mood lingers, even as she tries to clamp it back down. "It'd be easier to scrounge one up somewhere, wouldn't it."

"No."

It immediately follows her first statement, not even a breath's pause, and he shouldn't be surprised. No one translates him easily, if at all. It's part of why it was just easier to give up on socializing. What's the point if nobody gets it, if there's no ability to use the same nuances they do, no hope of even understanding them?

Eh, whatever. Not like the missteps are anything new. The rest of the whiskey is downed without a second thought. There's no reaction in his face or tone otherwise, to the drink or to her concession. "Wouldn't be good quality. You'll have to settle for refurbished, but it's better than runoffs."

Still as she is, it's easier to catch his expression (or lack thereof) as it happens. The fact that she botched her hasty apology is obvious, if his sudden emptiness is any indication, but she's not sure what part caused the sudden rejection. Or... not rejection, as the conversation isn't over. Asking is an option, but that might make it worse, ugh.

Bleh. Feelings. Who needs them, apathy is way easier. Except it's harder for her to slip back into once she's started being positive.

"Some quality is better then no quality, though. And it'd be a place to start."

Edited (watches dw eat a whole sentence) 2015-05-27 06:57 (UTC)

This is just getting worse. He didn't want to ruin her good mood and attempting to encourage it just ruined it and- ugh. To hell with it. Being blunt is the only thing he's known for, so may as well keep doing it.

"I didn't mean to ruin your happiness. It's rare for ghosts to react that strongly." Since you know, losing ability to grasp the things that once helped them feel alive, et cetera. Clara's a rarity, around long enough to cement her presence.

Ghost Girl... not so much. And if letting her explode his lightbulbs and blast creepy techno music at ungodly hours of the night helps that, then why not.

"Don't take my intentions wrong. It's not a hindrance."

Sometimes things can be talked out rationally. For everything else, there's a sledgehammer.

"I probably needed to be reined in a bit, so it's okay." Social cues were never Aradia's forte, and it's just her luck that it carried on into unlife. The burst of genuine emotion was surprising, and added to the past happenings of the evening could present some new insight into how her head functions now - but this isn't the time to ghost-geek it out, internally or otherwise.

... what was she talking about again? Oh, right. "It doesn't usually get that full on, honestly. But if it's really not a hindrance, then hmm. I think my old apartment's still empty..."

Okay, so she's maybe geeking out a little. Spending an entire evening surrounded by the living ends up infectious.

That's good enough of a confirmation Ghost Girl got his intent, and all the better that she doesn't take offense to the conversational sledgehammer. But even still, he cuts off her thoughts again.

"My apartment is fine."

Not even to babysit her. An empty apartment complex suddenly playing music at certain hours of the night? And the room is empty except for the setup? Sounds like a fast-track to getting her toys confiscated. "Next time you turn up, we'll look for the parts you need."

Your apartment's going to end up full of scavenged turntables and wires, Will. This is the fate you have resigned yourself to.

But it might be worth it, despite the impending shenanigans, because it's given ghost girl an actual hobby to focus on. One that even has a sort-of if-you-tilt-your-head-and-squint link back to her living interests. It's like Christmas came early. "I'll try to not take up too much space. That'd be rude."

Let's be honest: he would be nowhere near as bothered as people assume he would be.

He's aware it means being tormented by terrible music until she figures out what she's doing, but it'll cheer her up. It's a hobby she can still have despite being dead. All she needs is to master typing and How To Not Get Stuck In Chocolate Fountains and Ghost Girl will be able to talk with more than just the scant handful of people than can see her.

Besides, as she's seen for herself, his amount of earthly possessions borderline on 'depressingly small'. But he's not depressed so whatever, no problems at all, he shrugs. "I don't mind. Don't have much anyway."

He's an enabler of letting ghost girls torment the living with electronics. Ghostbusters would like a word with you, sir.

"It's still your apartment." To her it's a matter of being polite. Ghostly freeloader or no, he barely knows her and yet he's going out of his way to help. She'd probably offer to pay rent if it was remotely possible, to ease the strain.

Of course, it won't spare him when her mischievous streak eventually rears it's head. But. It's the thought that counts. "So, it's easier. Plus it's room you could've filled up with more boxes."

And he will beat the Ghostbusters into the pavement, don't test him.

And Ghost Girl still gets a blank stare for her concern. It's the vacant absense that means things like her paying rent or the fact it's his apartment never actually passed through his mind. Is that a concern normal people have? Why would they be bothered by helping people if it's in their power? Is caring that much suspicious? He needs to ask Clara and stop if so.

It's only at the box comment does the focus visibly reassert itself, blank confusion switching back to the usual apathy, "That's all I own."

That... says a lot, really.

It really does say a lot, when measured against his confusion over her concern. Part of her wants to know why, to pick at it and understand, but there's no way it wouldn't end up being rude. Besides, she can't really fault him for wanting to help people - it wasn't so long ago that she did the same, until it got her killed.

But jokes are easier then worrying over wording. Especially with how clear she's feeling, from interacting with the living and the positive reinforcement.

"You probably have enough boxes to make a fort by now." Beat. "Which wouldn't need that much more effort."

Edited (nitpicks my sentences, last time i s2g...) 2015-05-30 02:02 (UTC)

There's no recognition of her edging off the topic, no visual tell if it even bothered him in the first place, but at least the joke earns a raised eyebrow. A conscious effort compared with the slightly twisted tone into something resembling amusement, just so she'll be able to pick it up as a joke.

"I'll make a doghouse for you to possess. Write 'Ghost Girl' on the top of it." He's bad at people, so there's no real knowledge if or when he takes a joke too far and it impales the other person. So he instinctively reigns it back a second after, "Maybe a bookshelf."

"Rude. I thought I'd rate at least a table." It starts off deadpan, but the attempt at indignant apathy gets spoiled when a smile wins out instead. Actually being able to read things as a joke just encourages her bad sense of humour.

"But if it's a nice doghouse I guess I wouldn't mind. It'd keep help keep things tidy. Also gives me somewhere to hide if the salt start's flying."

at least she cant raid his fridge

as if there's anything in there

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

so that's where the stapler went

it needed to be punished.

it did nothing wrong D:

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

that's what staplers do tho its how they show love

i know not love only scorn and hatred :I

yes we get it you're in your goth phase :T

live by the goth die by the goth

well she did die by it OH SNAP

WOW RUDE 0/10

kanye shrugs maybe we can put her skull in the fridge next

at least then she'll be ice cold, befitting her soul

too cool for school

vip lets kick it

plz bring better music

wow what do you have against vanilla ice at 4am

everything

vanilla ice is a true artist ok

yeah a bullshit artist

1v1 me irl he is a paragon of.... something.

yes. a paragon of bullshit

you're just mad that you ain't a vip