Welcome to Gaia! ::

Minny Clover (DM Sadalsuud)

A part of Minny Clover couldn't help but feel better about the fact that she wasn't the only one who'd had trouble trying (and failing) to say her name - because it made her feel less silly about it.

It was curiously strange though.

"It's nice to meet you both" she said cheerfully, lips quirking up in an equally cheerful smile, before shaking her head at A Good Time's question.

"No" she admitted. "I received a random invite too and was curious when the lettering turned into some sort of strange cursive" she shrugged slightly "And so I touched it and found myself here" she gestured, the movement encompassing her mask and outfit both "And found myself like this."

Was she meant to be here?

Minny had no idea - after all she didn't know a Chauvet - didn't know who any of the other masked attendees were–

But no one had seemed to mind her presence and the Barkeep had been really nice earlier when she'd asked about whether she'd have to drink the champagne–

And truth be told she didn't really want to leave - at least not yet - not whilst she was (pun intended) having a good time.

Her lips quirked up in another smile, this one is slightly crooked and a little rueful at Heartshocker's admission of being unable to say her name, the ruefulness echoing in her voice as Minny admitted "It doesn't seem like I'm able to say my name either."

Well at least not her true name.

It is 11 PM.

The ghosts that began the evening as mere shades now mingle and dance though the halls, just as flesh and blood as the living. You are just as real as you've ever been, though perhaps you are no longer strictly 'you', as memories of the previous gala feel more real than your current life. Neither of the hosts are anywhere to be found, neither the small nor the tall, but the party continues on all the same, ticking ever closer to midnight.

Quote:

What This Means:

• 'Genevieve' is nowhere to be found. Chauvet was seen in the Gallery running up a flight of stairs to a private office. Neither of them appears to be accessible for the moment.
  
• If your character is interacting with one of the summoned ghosts, they will find that all ghosts are now fully corporeal and just as real as anyone else! Ghosts have the innate understanding that this is not a permanent summoning, so if anyone has any closure to seek, now is the time. To clarify: all ghosts should be loved ones from within living memory, and cannot be Silver Millennium shades.
  
• If your character is reliving their experience at the Eighth Gala, they now experience it so completely that they have difficulty seeing anything else. The sky above them looks like stars, they believe they are the previous versions of themselves. Characters with exceptional focus will be able to parse between both memory sets, but should only recall Eighth Gala memories from the Silver Millennium unless they also have supplemented memories from homeworlds or golden vials.
  
• Additionally, to clarify: Characters should experience only one of these paths to their conclusion. All characters can see the shades as people now, and characters who drank champagne may get familiar flickers of the previous Chauvet gala, but for the purposes of the champagne effect, characters should either interact with a loved one or experience the full vision, not both.
  
• If you have any questions about the prompt, please reach out via PM or discord!
  
• Midnight strikes in three days, so look out for the final prompt on Sunday, June 16th.

General Discontent

"You know, " the dark haired man remarked to his ginger companion as he leaned against the banister, facing it so he was half-hanging over it, swirling a drink idly in the glass in his hand. "You'd think after the last fiasco I would've just ignored the invitation, right? - but I was never the type to turn down a party, now was I?" At least a) it was more likely they'd believe him about the weird s**t considering he'd dragged Fletcher along with him, and b) still magic, but no dying or monstrous elephants so far. Always a plus.

Plus, it being a party and all made the whole nature of spending time with Fletcher less... tense. Awkward. He still didn't entirely know how to acknowledge what had been done without running or pretending everything was fine when they knew it wasn't. A magical place like this with all the masks and excitement did a good job of distracting from the crawling darkness that lingered beneath. "Are you having fun?"

Progidy

It had taken an awful lot of self control to resist the temptation to grab a champagne flute from one of the passing waiters, but Fletcher had managed to keep his hands wrapped tightly around the banister he and his companion were leaning against as they watched the party unfold. It took even more self control to keep from staring longingly at the glass in the other man's hand as he swirled the bubbling contents idly.

"I'm still not entirely sure how it is we're here," the ginger answered honestly, pale eyes flicking up to watch Mal's profile, as if he could see past the mask, past flesh and bone. Like he was trying to see if there was some spark there, a flare of power he and Lacey had somehow missed. Was Malaise more than what he seemed? Was he an agent, or worse, someone glowing with order? How else was he here?

Fletch shoved the thoughts aside when he realized the dark haired man had asked him a question. Baby blues blinked, and his focus sharpened. "I'm not having a bad time." His lips twitched in a small smile. "This isn't the sort of scene I'm used to, especially not with you." House parties, clubs, underground concerts...places he didn't dare go now for fear of ******** up his sobriety. "I'm happy to be here though." With you.

Freckles and ginger hair stood out against the black on black of the outfit he'd arrived there in. Not exactly formal, but this was a masquerade. Long legs were wrapped in leather with laces running up the outer thighs. He had a nice jacket layered over an equally nice v-neck shirt. The half mask he wear seemed an almost obscene challenge to classical values.

Prodigy

A agreeable snort followed that, and a little half smile. Even before he'd become an agent Fletcher had accepted that strange s**t happened in this city. Mal getting hurt twas probably enough to have convinced him on it's own, but then Fletcher himself had run afoul of a youma. "Saves time to simply expect the unexpected, I think."

He watched Malaise's adam's apple bob as he drink and had to look away, down at his hands, but looked up again as the older man laced their fingers together. It still wasn't the same as it'd been, even with time, that wasn't enough to heal things completely. But it was easier. Didn't hurt like it used to, and when things were going well every so often Fletcher could forget for long moments at a time just how bad things had gotten.

Mal laughed, and Fletcher smiled, squeezing their fingers together. "You know how to dance?" It was doubtful, but teasing, and Fletcher used their linked hands to draw the older man around so they were face to face and he could lay his other hand against the lapel of the fancy suit the singer was wearing. Showing his willingness by body language, even as he joked.

He didn't hear the snort, but he seldom noticed much of anything when he had Malaise's full attention on him.

General Discontent

"I bet the moment you do that is the moment it all becomes predictable, " Malaise countered smoothly, smiling to himself at the thought - just as contrary as the notion itself in the end.

Then, he laughed heartily, tickled that Fletcher was poking fun at him. It was familiar. Comforting, somehow, made much moreso by the body language between them. It was getting easier to match his gaze without shying away, whether or not he deserved it. "I can sway my hips well enough, you know that. That's half the battle right there, isn't it?" he countered with an arched brow, leaning in closer now.

Another snort, louder now, caught his attention. So finally, Malaise glanced to a side, a vague tick of annoyance nagging at him until he saw a figure leaning against the balcony some distance away from them, not quite looking at them, but clearly aware of them, or one of them at least. An older man. Too old to be at a party like this, probably, and entirely out of place, dressed in sweats and with deep furrows all across his skin that betrayed too many years of -

- well, malaise. The feeling, not the man, although in this case the two were not mutually exclusive.

"Oh, ******** me."

Again, that snort. "'Bout right. Half this room probably has."

General Discontent

Malaise could've purred at the sensation of that warm hand on his neck, and the anticipation of what he knew was to come was more delicious than the champagne, honestly.

Until this damned b*****d had to rise from the dead and ruin it. Typical that. "Why are you here exactly?" he bit back sharply, shoulders tightening and his weight shifting from one foot to another. "Have you come back to haunt me now, is that it?"

The man snorted again, a sound like nails on a chalkboard to Malaise, his teeth gritting in the wake of it. "Hell if I know. It's not as though I had any unfinished business."

Oh, right. "Obviously, " Malaise droned. "Because to haunt someone would mean you'd have to give a damn, wouldn't it?" He spat the words like venom, and as expected, got a careless shrug in response that made his stomach sour. "Doesn't even deny it, look at you, not a goddamn thing to say to me after all this ******** time - "

As if just remembering, because it was very much like Malaise to lose himself in the moment once he got started, his gaze snapped back to Fletcher and he gave an absolutely awful smile. "Oh, pardon my ******** manners, here - meet Daddy."

General Discontent

Fletcher's burying his face into his shoulder was a very normal thing, and it was familiar and comforting in that way when the redhead went to do it. Now that he needed the comfort, Malaise reminded himself, not realizing the irony in the fact that he needed that reminder that he was fine.

In the end, though, that's not what happened, and Malaise was admittedly disarmed by the way Fletcher's stance immediately changed. It was rare for him to be caught completely off-guard like that, but then, it was even more rare for Fletcher to act like that. It'd happened a few times. Like that night things had gotten too intense at the show there towards the end, when Malaise had lashed out at someone and things broke down and Fletcher - he shuddered pleasantly at the touch to his neck, warmed by it even in the moment as he wrapped fingers lightly around the redhead's forearm.

"You say that like I asked to be here, " the older man snorted out, and it was in a way that might've almost been a laugh if he seemed the type. He did not. "I'd leave if I could. Already dead, nowhere to go from here." He sounded downright bored.

It stung. It irritated him that it stung so badly, because it wasn't as though it was unexpected. "Maybe this is your ******** punishment, huh? Perpetual ******** limbo for being such a goddamn piece of s**t all the time, being such a ******** selfish a*****e - !" People were staring, probably. But it was like for every ounce of stark indifference in his body, Malaise was matching it with sheer vitriol. It wasn't exactly a new song and dance. Alive or dead, it didn't do much to change the status quo.