MASQUERADE PARTY

[masqueradeparty]

[the day of the party has arrived!

right around dinnertime, fairies will try to round up every single character and gesture, lead, or pull them towards the courtyard. there, the miniature castle has finally been completed! there are fairy lights and beautiful singing all around you, and it looks like there's some kind of a party going on in the castle, but...

...but it's still so tiny. how could you possibly get in there? it would be hard just to get your hand through the front door!

but the fairies will persist, and as soon as a character steps into the fairy ring...

they find themselves in the ballroom.

this post has been forward-dated to tonight, of course, so mingle in the comment sections and have a fun time with the different rooms.]

SECTION LINKS FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE:
• The Ballroom
• Side Rooms
• The Garden
• The Altar

Comments

[samson]

[That's great, because what he wants right now is to grab on her bare thighs, fingers curling in as he bites her lip.]

[molotov]

[Yep, sure, okay. Molotov just makes a soft noise.]

[samson]

[Ordinarily, Brock would not be this openly affectionate with her in public. He is still a mature adult, even if he acts like a child half the time! But he doesn't care right now, all he wants to do is kiss on her.]

[molotov]

[It's fine, there's not even that many people around!]

[samson]

[But it's still kind of gross! Let me just drunkenly slobber all over my wife in public, sounds good. Oh well. They were in costumes, nobody would know who they were.

Brock squeezed her thighs again, then stopped kissing her so he could bite her neck instead.]

[molotov]

[No, Molotov was pretty sure that only Brock suffered from an inability to decipher the identity of people in masks. Sorry, Samson.

Molotov sighs a little and leans her head against his, closing her eye. She is going to be so mortified in the morning.]

[samson]

[Wow, check out how I switched tenses up there. That makes it extra sexy!

Brock just sucks hard on her neck, absently moving his hands along her body, though he focuses a lot on her hair and her legs. Not only is she going to be mortified, she is going to have a nice hickey, too. :') ]

[molotov]

[Oh no no, Molotov has to be far more drunk for that! He probably leaves a faint bruise though, before she clears her head enough to push him away.]

Stop, don't do that.

[samson]

[He lets her push him, breathing hard and blinking, trying to clear his own head.]

What? What.

[molotov]

No marks, not... no.

[samson]

[Once he has his breathing under control, Brock locates his mask and slips it back on. He fishes out another cigarette and lights it, able to smoke while wearing the mask even if he can't make out with it on.]

I thought you liked it.

[He lights another cigarette and offers it to her.]

[molotov]

I do not want to look bad in my dress, all bruised.

[But yes please, cigarette.]

[samson]

I think you look good. [He pauses to touch her jaw lightly with his fingertips, trying to tilt her head so he can get a better look at her neck.]

I mean, when you're bruised.

[molotov]

[She lets him tilt her head, but then shakes it.]

You think I dressed like this for you?

[samson]

Uh. Who else?

[molotov]

For me, stupid, and everyone else. You think I should not look good when I go in public?

[samson]

[Squints ...] Wait. You're looking good for everyone but me?

[molotov]

You are part of "everyone else". I want to look good for the world!

[samson]

No, no, no. [He slides his hands up and down her thighs, leaning in closer to touch his forehead to hers.] Just me.

[molotov]

[She presses her forehead back against his.] You want everyone else to think I am ugly?

[samson]

No. [He tilts in to give her a soft little peck on the mouth.] I want everyone to know you're hot as hell, but that you're mine.

[molotov]

Then I have to look good.

[samson]

[He starts tracing his fingers along the side of her neck where he made that tiny bruise just now.] Then how are they gonna know I'm yours?

[molotov]

My ring.

[She moves to take his hand and lace their fingers together.]

[samson]

[Brock glances over at their hands, then goes back to pressing his forehead to hers.]

Well ... okay. But you wear gloves a lot.