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

[molotov]

[Okay, there we go. Molotov keeps going, prepared for him to stop her shortly, and sort of coos around him. Good job, team!]

[samson]

[After he comes down, Brock inhales deeply and then opens his eyes, smiling at her a little weakly. He spends a second stroking her hair, then jerks his head back a little with a sort of smug look, asking her to come sit on the chaise lounge with him.]

[molotov]

[Delicately wiping her mouth, Molotov sits down next to him and leans against him.]

[samson]

[Brock casually tucks himself back in and lights two cigarettes, handing her one as he wraps his arm around her shoulders.]

[molotov]

[Yes, very good, thank you. Molotov takes the cigarette and curls up against him, smoking.]

[samson]

[He leans his head against hers, stroking at her shoulder a little.]

Did I rip your dress?

[molotov]

[She examines her dress as best she can in the dark.]

I do not think so.

[samson]

[He looks too! He can't see anything either.]

I really want to fuck you.

[molotov]

No, I do not want to be messy.

[samson]

I can see if one of those little animal guys can get me a condom. [He starts looking around the curtains ...]

[molotov]

Brock, nyet! I don't want to.

[samson]

[HE'S IN AGONY, WHY. He gives her the hangdoggiest face imaginable.]

But Mol ...

[molotov]

No!

[samson]

[He sits back with a sigh, rubbing at his face.]

Fine, but we're doing it tomorrow. Like, at least twice.

[molotov]

You don't... [This is when she just sort of collapses against him, too drunk to bother sitting up anymore.]

You don't get to tell me that.

[samson]

[He instinctively wraps his arm around her again, cuddling up a little. You know. Manly-like.]

You don't want to fuck me?

[molotov]

[She's whining.]

Nyet, no, I don't like you.

[samson]

[He pinches her shoulder!]

You're such a fuckin' liar. You just told me you loved me more than anything and didn't even hate me anymore.

[molotov]

[Squirming!]

That doesn't mean I like you.

[samson]

You looooove me.

[pinch pinch pinch]

[molotov]

[NO she tries to move away.]

I hate you, you smell bad.

[samson]

I sm -- [He just bursts out laughing.] Are you twelve?

[molotov]

No. You smell bad and have ugly hair.

[samson]

Then why the hell did you just suck my cock, lady? [still laughing ...]

[molotov]

I'm drunk, that's why.

[She lays down on the other end of the chaise, curling into the pillows.]