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

[baisant]

Jean-Claude tilts head at the other man, in response to his bashful reaction. Of course, it hardly comes as a surprise, all things considered. Daryl hardly seems comfortable in his own skin, of course he would protest any such open flirtation as Jean-Claude has to offer. But still he has to wonder at them. The reactions he's receiving, they aren't entirely suggestive that the other man doesn't appreciate his sentiments either. Just that he isn't used to being on the receiving end of them.

"Perhaps I should take that as a confirmation, of sorts. Oh mon ami," he says, before correcting himself. "Mon cher. That simply will not do."

[dirtyredneck]

It was the way 'cher' rolled off the vampire's tongue that had Daryl freezing where he was. Shoulders still up, eyes averted so he was staring more at JC's feet than at him, breathing normal, but heart rate starting to rise. He shouldn't have let himself drink so much because the more he tried to think, the harder it was. He couldn't see through the mental haze to find the insult behind the words. An insult that needed to be there for things to be... to be normal.

His jaw worked a bit, but by the time he shut it again, no words came out. He just stood there. Dumbfounded. The situation was one he had no idea how to navigate.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude pushes himself to stand in one fluid and graceful movement, stepping forward towards the other man. They are of a similar height although Jean-Claude is slightly taller. Still, it means that he does not need to tip Daryl's head up in order to be able to look into his eyes. Deep, sapphire blue meeting the lighter blue of his companion's.

"Does it bother you, mon ami?" he asks, his voice as soft as his gently lilting French accent. "The idea that I find you as appealing as I do?"

[dirtyredneck]

What bothered Daryl was Jean-Claude continuing to insist this was real and not some sort of game to him. It was damn near surreal at this point. The two of them, alone, in a park, with the sounds of revelry so far off it might as well have been imagined. The only thing it was missing was the morning fog rolling in and even that was probably less than an hour away.

"Why're you doing this?" he grumbled, but didn't move. His eyes shifted down, though. As much as he wanted to keep eye contact and look intimidating, he just couldn't. It wasn't like he was defending himself or protecting someone. The other man wasn't even being mean. And that was the whole problem. Jean-Claude wasn't following any of the scripts Daryl had been familiar with since he was old enough to understand what sex was.

"Can't you find someone else to make fun of?" If he kept insisting on the pattern he knew, the only clear idea in his head right then, maybe Jean-Claude would finally fall in line with it and things could start making sense for Daryl.

[baisant]

"Ah, mon cher," Jean-Claude says, stepping closer still. He can hear the drumming of the other man's heart and it entices him further. There is something about the knowledge that he has been the cause of it that sets his own blood afire. (It's more than likely a vampire thing.)

Calmly, carefully, he reaches out to hook long, pale fingers underneath Daryl's chin and bring his gaze back up to meet his own. His own skin is cool to the touch. He has not fed in some time now. He does not need to feed as much, as old as he is. It should make it feel somewhat like Daryl is being touched by a living statue, however. Skin soft but cool as marble.

"But it is you that I desire."

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's head was turned, but he'd mastered the fine art of avoiding eye contact under his father's heavy hand and when Jean-Claude moved it, he simply let his head slide to the other side. Gaze meeting the vampire's for but a split second before they were once more somewhere else. Trying to convince himself this had to be some joke in poor taste. Scared what it meant if it wasn't. Less so for Jean-Claude's actions and more so for his own.

"No you don't." The words were mumbled in protest and disbelief, but they held no real conviction. It was the only protest Daryl had left that hadn't already been countered.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude keeps his fingers cupped against the corner of the other man's jaw, but he does not force him to meet his eyes again. Instead he steps closer still, moving to run the fingers of his other hand along the line of the other man's arm, his touch light and teasing.

"Ah, mon cher," he he says, his voice barely above a whispered hum. He need not speak louder after all, they are the only ones there in this section of the garden this late in the evening. "What can I do to convince you otherwise?"

[dirtyredneck]

There were very few directions a mind could drift when presented with the particular cues Jean-Claude's body language, actions, and voice gave out. For Daryl, the direction his went was to a fantasy he'd made up once a good twenty years before to get his brother off his back about how little he talked about his 'sexual conquests' the way any good Dixon man should. Merle did enough of that sort of talking for the lot of them as far as Daryl was concerned. But he'd had to play his part every now and then to keep his brother from being too much for him to handle and to keep his father's belt at bay.

It wasn't even a fantasy he'd ever actually had prior to that. Just one he'd come up with to shut Merle and his friends up. That he'd like to take a girl - because of course it had to be a girl - out into the woods and when she was lookin' good and ready, push her up against a tree and doing all kinds of nasty things to her while she begged him for more. He'd thought about it from time to time, afterwards. What he might actually like to happen rather than what he was expected to want. It was never as aggressive as he'd first described it, those other times it came to his mind.

It was a slow push backwards with hands on hips and a laugh on both their lips. All quiet smiles as they kissed each other and thumbs rubbing slow, gentle circles into the divots of skin that could just be felt above the waist of their jeans. There'd be no scars for him to be afraid of her feeling. She'd be happy to just stay there, leaning against each other, and kissing for hours. Nothing else asked and nothing else expected. And she'd be the one doing the pushing. She'd be the one pressing his back against the tree. All hazy lighting and romance novel shit. The kind he'd have been called 'Darlenna' for if he'd ever said the truth of it.

That same picture entered his mind at Jean-Claude's question. Only this time that fantasy wasn't slow and soft. It was violent and forceful the way he knew vampires were. It was the other man shoving him backwards, manicured fingers fisting in Daryl's shirt as he found each button and pulled it open without regard for the damage done. It was pale, cold lips meeting his neck and sucking hard enough to mark, warmed by the friction and little else.

Daryl's eyes shut as he bit his bottom lip. His head dropped so his forehead rested against Jean-Claude's shoulder. The hand of the arm being teased came up to grip that elbow and halt the action while his other curled into the vampire's shirt right where it tucked into those too-tight pants. He needed the support as his mind wandered to places he didn't want it to and his body responded in ways he'd forgotten it could.

Embarrassing ways. Very embarrassing ways.

The kind of ways that as soon as it happened, there was little chance the vampire wouldn't recognize the smell of it even with as fast as Daryl pushed him away and darted off. His bobcat form taking over before he'd gotten two steps. But there was no way he was sticking around to be laughed at. Even if Jean-Claude had been sincere about the rest of it, he was still a man. And Daryl had never met any man who wouldn't make fun of another for being that quick on the draw.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude keeps his fingers curled around Daryl's jaw, his other hand trailing against the skin of the other man's arm right up until Daryl reaches out to stop him. Turning his face into the other man's hair slightly as the other man tips his forehead against his shoulder, intrigued by the way he reaches to fasten his hand in the front of his shirt.

He nearly missed what has happening, the other man was so subtle in his actions. Nearly. He cannot help but notice the jumping in the other man's pulse, after all -- he is a vampire. Nor can he miss, as Daryl starts and shoves him away, darting off into the distance and shifting as he goes, the subtle scent that lingers as he goes. If he weren't well familiar with such a smell, he might be more confused with what just happened. As it is, he flicks a softly curving smile in the direction that the other man had disappeared.

"Until next time, mon cher," he murmurs after him.