The Night Train

[undergroundmods]

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It's the 22nd of January and the sun has disappeared behind the horizon. You're waiting at your nearest station when a sleek, metallic grey train pulls up at the platform. No one else can see it, only those who are aware of the supernatural world. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Night Train. Tonight the leaders of the Night Council will be making their annual introduction to the supernatural community – aboard a train that will make stops in every borough with a significant supernatural presence. Hop on and off whenever you like: this event is designed to be open to all. (Though for some reason the train won't be passing through East End or Seelie/Unseelie territory...)

The event takes place from 7pm-12 midnight Sunday 22nd January.

Rules of entry
• No weapons. Any weapons or objects that could be used as weapons will be confiscated.
• No drugs or alcohol except that provided at the event. Don't try to sneak any in.
• No violence. The train is cursed with a hex that will punish any trouble-causing passengers with a lightning strike. The Council doesn't mess around here.

Carriages
The train has five carriages, each one with a different theme. While the Night Council members are dispersed throughout the train, they are under no obligation to stay in their carriage and will likely move around to network and meet fellow members of the supernatural community. There are cameras and security guards in every carriage to ensure there is no trouble.

1) PRESIDENT / VICE PRESIDENT. At the front of the train is a carriage decked out as if for royalty. Surprisingly spacious, the carriage is decorated with gilt trimmings, a thick wine-red carpet and leather seating. Portraits of previous Presidents and Vice Presidents line the wall. Coffee, tea and wine is being served at tables interspersed throughout the carriage and finger sandwiches are available.

2) WITCH REPRESENTATIVE. The next carriage along belongs to the Witch Representative. It's rather like walking into a greenhouse: the entire place is full of herbs and other plants, and there are tables where you can sit and ask for advice or magical favours from witches with varying specialities: a healer, a herbalist, a psychic, a medium and a potions maker. Magical butterflies flutter along the ceiling and among the flowers like colourful lights. A small bar at the end of the carriage serves a variety of herbal teas.

3) VAMPIRE REPRESENTATIVE. The next carriage along belongs to the Vampire Representative. Decorated in a tasteful dark red, about half the carriage's length is taken up by a wine bar that serves a variety of alcoholic and blood-based drinks and snacks. The other half consists of leather seating where the seats face each other to allow guests to talk while enjoying a drink.

4) SHAPESHIFTER/META HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE. It seems that Yasmine decided her aim for the night was to let loose and avoid talking, since this carriage is basically a narrow dance floor. Club music blares out from speakers on the ceiling, there's a disco ball and strobe lighting, and all the windows are blacked out. A magical seal ensures that the noise is contained within this carriage, so you won't hear any of it until you step inside.

5) EMPTY CARRIAGE. There's nothing here apart from rows of seats that you might find on any ordinary train. A sign on the door says "WARNING: THIS CARRIAGE IS HAUNTED. KEEP OUT." If you ignore the sign and go in anyway, you might feel a sense of unease. The shadows seem unnaturally long and the lights will flicker on and off. Magically sensitive types will feel a strong sense of impending death and may experience visions of the seats being ripped apart and blood spattered on the walls. If you stick around even after that, the most magically sensitive person in the carriage will experience a vivid hallucination of their own death at the hands of a vampire. If you manage to endure that without fleeing, PM the mod to continue. (Don't worry, no one will die.)

Comments

OTA yo

[falsify]

General

Bet your bottom dollar Eames is here. With a fixed look of displeasure on his face at pretty much everything that's happening here. It's pretty much the reason he's here, to wear his displeasure openly and put a small dent in their budget by drinking everything. He doesn't even like port but he'll drink it if they have it.

He'll swap out that look of disgust for something a little more welcoming if anyone he knows and doesn't hate catches his eye, but mostly he's just. So disgusted. What an awful display.

WITCH CARRIAGE

He's loathe to admit it, but this is really something. It's a beautiful display, and he can't help being fascinated by the greenery. Not exactly a nature man by any stretch, but one doesn't exactly spend their formative years a curious youngster in Faery and not develop a healthy appreciation for this kind of display.

It's pretty much the closest he gets to having fun all night, engaging the witches in the carriage with talk about how they'd use the various herbs and how they'd grow the plants. The healer gets a lot of his attention, because it's an area of magic he's just fundamentally Not Good At.

Wanna bug an old man about plants? Ask him why he's so fascinated by that curly looking lettuce-type thing? Here he is.

GHOST CARRIAGE

Because of course he's here.

It's malevolent and haunted and tied to the Night Council somehow. Maybe there's secrets to be found. Oh, wouldn't that be exciting? He expects they've probably given the place a thorough magical scrubbing if there was anything in there that could besmirch their good name, but even the most magically adept miss things sometimes.

Eames stands just inside the door, ignoring that rising unease as he scans the carriage for anything more than this... residue. It's unpleasant, but not so much he can't push it aside. But he's not about to just walk right in on his own without getting a hint of what the deal is first.

general grumpiness for everybody

[ghoulaid]

Board the Night Train, they said. We need to keep our ears to the ground now that vampires have a seat on the Council again, they said.

Well, to hell with all that. It's only been maybe a couple hours since he's gotten on and he's already had his fill. While he'd been expecting trouble with vampires, what he's instead stumbled upon is a wealth of fake-polite dismissals and chilly looks from witches, of all things.

Being stuck on a train swarming with them doesn't seem all that appealing anymore. Not even the promise of endless alcohol can console him. He backs up, blindly groping behind himself until he grabs hold of a sleeve that he assumes is attached to one of the other wolves he'd come here with. He doesn't turn around far enough to see his mistake, which is why he carries on with an irritable sounding, "This shit's for the birds, I'm gettin' off at the next stop. You staying?"

[falsify]

Ugh, why is he being touched.

Obviously he got too close to the wolves milling about the bar, and he pulls his arm away from whoever's just grabbed him with a huff, "go where you want. I really don't give a shit."

[ghoulaid]

That's not the voice he's expecting. He yanks his empty hand back at warp speed as soon as he sees who he'd been grabbing, and even looks a tad offended. How dare he not be who Ghoul thought he was.

"Not you- I don't need your blessing, you ain't the boss of me." Even if he is that dog whisperer from a while back. Or, at least, Ghoul thinks he might be. This guy has the same sort of unusual face. "Where'd that little fucker go?"

As if he has any right to call anyone little.

[falsify]

Wow, so hostile. Eames frowns as he takes a sip of his drink, "I wouldn't know."

The dismissive tone is a far cry from the way he'd been with that whole dog situation, but in Eames' defence he doesn't care.

[ghoulaid]

The tone doesn't seem to rattle him. He's been hearing it all evening long, what's it from one more person? "Ugh."

Ghoul abandons the search for now. He turns to face the bar, leaning against it heavily as he rests both arms and his head against the counter. "Whatever. Gonna be busy trying to fuse my face to the bartop from here on out. If you don't like it you can either find a new haunt or go whine to the Queen Bee and her cabinet."

[falsify]

Eames snorts a laugh, looking down at the back of Ghoul's head and then to the bartender-- signalling for a refill. He'd honestly rather slit his own throat than speak to Redbright right now, but regardless. Might as well find some camaraderie with one of his fellow undesirables, right?

"I think you'll need more liquor for that," he makes a thoughtful noise, fingers drumming on the wood as he waits for his drink, "vodka maybe? Might help melt the varnish."

witch carriage

[specifiercity]

Arthur didn't expect to find Eames in a moment of relative happiness here. He knows Eames' feelings on the Night Council and on most of these people; they're both here for the information in case anything noteworthy happens and for the drips and drabs of talk otherwise but certainly not to have a good time. Maybe it's not happiness on Eames' face but it's not distaste for once, and that's reason enough to walk up and start bugging him.

"Thinking of taking up gardening?" he asks dryly, drink in hand as he looks at the plants around them.

[falsify]

"Why not?" He curls his fingers around the leaves of some herbs, curiosity colouring his expression as he takes in the colour and the texture. It's healthier than he'd expect for being grown on a train; more colourful, fragrant.

Eames glances at Arthur, just as dry in response, "I already have a house and a dog."

[specifiercity]

"Exactly," Arthur says, glancing down at Eames' hands as he touches the plants. He wonders what Eames' real interest in them is, as it's likely not just hobby gardening. "I thought you had reached the limit of your domesticity. I guess I was mistaken."

[falsify]

"Well, I've got a lot of time to experiment." The fun thing about immortality, experimenting with all sorts of painfully boring ways to live your life. Maybe he'll get married while he's at it.

[specifiercity]

Well, this joke got old fast. Arthur sighs and takes a sip of his drink, regarding the plants again with a more thoughtful look. After a moment he gestures vaguely at them, his tone curious.

"Do they do anything?"

[falsify]

"Depends on how good you are." There's a wry edge to his voice, leaves slipping through his fingers as he straightens up and reaches for where he left his drink, "it's like any ingredient. You can make something amazing with them--" he gestures to another plant, one with small flowers that he thinks one could make an amazing curative with, "or you can make a fucking mess."

General, plz.

[nightflowering]

As Lan winds her way through the crowds towards Eames, she is well aware that looks somewhat out of place among all the suits and fine dresses. Slight, scaled, and wearing only an undyed linen sarong tends to make one stand out in a carriage filled with brass and heavy carpet. "Be careful if they give you advocaat. First, we know then that they'll be offloading the unwanted drinks on you, but more importantly, your face would curdle it."

[falsify]

The comment actually catches him so off that Eames laughs, glancing up from the latest thing he's decided he hates (and sorely regretting never learning to read lips) to spot a much more welcome face.

"Lan," he smiles in greeting, tips his glass toward her, "you needn't worry about that. I wouldn't go near the stuff."

[nightflowering]

"I am profoundly relieved, both for your sake and that of the bartenders." Lan is a little disappointed that her favourite drinks are not as common at this sort of thing. Silly humans bothering themselves with too tart grapes that have gone off when they could be drinking full fat milk sweetened honey and nutmeg.

"Now, petal, I know that I've been gone from the city for far too long when I can't recognize more than a quarter of the faces here. Do tell, who's who and who ought I introduce myself to or avoid?" You see? She's starting with something practical, not even outright digging into the salacious gossip.

[falsify]

He's never had much of a sweet tooth, sadly. Makes him absurdly picky when it comes to wine too. And cider.

Regardless of his drink preferences, he gestures to a pair of seats of to the side of the carriage and quirks an eyebrow, "depends on what you're looking for." Business or pleasure, as it were. And then, what kind.

[nightflowering]

"Novelty. If you wish, if it pleases you, tell me something new or curious." For whatever reason, Lan has been terribly busy and missed the last few years of London's politics. She's had art to find, projects to nurture, and a whole collection of bad ideas to share.

If he wishes to sit, she's happy to move out of the crush and bother to perch and look decorative.

[falsify]

Novelty, hm? Eames looks around the carriage, figuring out who he recognises and who is the least boring. Sadly, for a bunch of politicians and bootlickers, the majority are a dreadfully boring bunch.

"Well there's him," he gestures to a witch a little way away, "big dreams of being the witch representative, and an obsession with both literally and metaphorically fucking fae that he thinks nobody knows about."

Eames taps his lip a little as he continues, eventually settling on pointing out a vampire who is dressed to the nines for tonight. "Sold her a Fabergé egg a few years ago. She had no appreciation for the amount of trouble getting the overrated thing was."

If Lan wants more dumb facts like this about the guests, Eames has a lot of them.

Ghost Carriage

[dredefulchilde]

Parties are annoying. People are annoying. Joscelin's moved from wine to a whiskey cocktail heavily mixed with blood over the evening as the noise and the senseless chatter keeps getting worse. He decides to wait it out in the supposedly haunted carriage until his stop comes around again to escape the inanity. It will be quieter in there. The dead don't frighten him.

Unfortunately, however, it seems the carriage is not as empty as he hoped. There's a fae in there, the one who helped Jean-Claude assassinate Raymond Harris.

"Oh it's you," he says, moving past Eames to sit in an empty row. He chalks the vague unease he feels up to being in a closed space with someone who smells so much like the blood he accidentally consumed over Christmas.

[falsify]

"It's me," Eames replies, looking at the child vampire to place if he knows him, but if they've met it certainly wasn't a memorable occasion. Either way, he doesn't care enough to inquire and even if he did, he's more interested in sussing out what the deal with this carriage is.

All things considered, being recognised by a vampire or two should hardly come as a surprise, so Eames merely brushes it off in favour of looking around the compartment. General nosiness, but also to try and pin down a source of this dread in the air.

[dredefulchilde]

"It doesn't look very haunted in here, does it?" Joscelin points out, with the air of someone commenting on the weather. It feels a bit spooky, certainly, but how much of that is actual haunting and how much is just the Night Council going deliberately atmospheric on them?

He follows Eames around a bit, poking around like a small, obnoxious shadow. The fae's more interesting than an empty carriage, anyway.

"Looking for something in particular?"

[falsify]

Oh, fantastic. The child is following him. Eamnes wrinkles his nose in distaste, both for the child and for the vision of blood running down the walls that he never asked for, and frowns at the spot where it had splattered moments ago. Except it hadn't splattered anywhere at all, it's spotless.

How annoying.

"Anything... Interesting."

[dredefulchilde]

Is that...?

Joscelin turns sharply, having spotted something running down the walls out of the corner of his eye, but...nothing.

Tricks. More tricks.

"An illusion," he mutters to himself. "Why would the witches put a carriage full of ghosts on their train?"

[falsify]

"Maybe they can't get rid of them." Dealing with ghosts is a very particular skillset, it's probably no surprise they haven't managed to exorcise this carriage. He's not too bothered about that part of it yet.