Happy Halloween!
Alright, the weekend's finally coming to a close. And I've still got last minute homework things to take care of...that's what you get for being a procrastinator. Either way, I think it was all worth it. I had a blast this weekend with all this exciting Halloween fun, including a few parties and some late-night candy gobbling. First off, the party at Emerson was pretty fun--for a while. I thought the whole thing wasn't that scary, and after I realized how late it was Thursday night, I decided to leave part-way through. Hope those who stayed the whole time liked it more than I did...although I have to admit, that whole Shakespeare theme was pretty creative. Anyway, hope you all had a great weekend!
On a more serious note, does anyone know of a school somewhere near NYC that might be geared more towards mutants in general? I've been looking into different schools in the community for some more advanced classes, and I keep having trouble at school with stupid bullies trying to harass mutants. I know I don't really have any obvious physical mutations, but a few people that seem to hate mutants at our school have decidedly learned that flashing neon green eyes every now and then are not normal. Personally, if there was a good school around here where all of the people not only tolerate but actually like mutants, I would love to look into it. Anyone feel like leaving me a comment? That's what it's for, you know. ;-) Thanks for the help!
OOC: Ok, here's the Emerson party log. Sorry, I had to leave, so I don't have the whole thing. I also missed a few of the last poses, but they weren't anything really important. Maybe Forge will post it on his LJ account some time? ;-)
Wooded Path - Central Park
Sectioned off a bit from the rest of Central Park North is this reclusive little path winding amidst the woodier areas of the park. It's blissfully serene here, the picturesque image of chirping birds and sunshine, on pleasant days. The surrounding trees form a tight network of mini-forest, so that the rest of the park and all its occupants seem miles away beyond the verdant foliage and tree-trunks which range from birch to oak to elm, randomly.
[Exits : [R]eservoir ]
[Players : Tom ]
Tom is.... here. It's amazing, isn't it? He's trying to be reclusive again, meaning he's trying to find a place where he can't hear people, which is quite a feat in a place like New York. He finally found his place, though, and it's sitting under a tree. He's currently dozing a bit, although you can't really tell because of those crazy sunglasses tye thing.
Quark walks off of the main path going through Central Park, also trying to find a bit of peace and quiet after finally finishing all of his homework. Yay!! Seriously, what kind of high school teachers give out homework on the night before Halloween? Any sane teacher should know that teens are too busy buying a plethora of raw eggs and throwable rolls of toilet paper...sheesh. Thank goodness Chris lives in an apartment, at least for now. Spying a person sitting by the tree, he hesitates to sit over here in the quiet. He notices however that it's Tom, the arcade owner. Of course oblivious to Tom's attempts to nap, he grins and asks, "Tom, how've you been? Haven't seen you out of the arcade in a while, I think."
Tom's head jerks up. "Huh?" asks Tom, as he looks around to see where the sound is coming from. "Uh... Oh. Hi." Well, he's kinda jittery.;'s head jerks up. "Huh?" asks Tom, as he looks around to see where the sound is coming from. "Uh... Oh. Hi." Well, he's kinda jittery. "What brings you out here to the middle of nowhere?" Myea, it's that teleporting kid.
Quark shrugs, replying with a friendly smile, "Probably the same as you...just a bit of peace and quiet after a long, stressful day." He frowns slightly, asking, "I'm sorry, you weren't asleep, were you? I didn't mean to interrupt anything..." He actually doesn't like to bother people when they're asleep.
Tom shrugs. "Nah, not really. I'm just thinking. You know, when you think about thinking, or just let your thoughts wander off...." Tom kinda drifts away. ... Wierd. Oh yea, and don't look up, you might notice a plastic bag up on a tree branch. Stupid pranksters. But there's something in it. Tom himself has a walking stick next to him. Looks decorative, although it's jsut a piece of wood.
Quark nods slowly, pretending to understand what he's talking about. He glances at the watch, not sure of how long he's been wandering around parts of Central Park. Then he realizes it's getting late--in fact, he's late for the big Halloween party over at Emerson University! "Hey Tom, have you heard about the party over at Emerson? I was thinking about going. D'you want to come along?"
Tom literally jumps up to his feet. "Oh, Wait! I was going to go!" Tom says, a bit loudly. He then looks up... and just as quickly, looks at Quark. Dangit! Why did he have to put the clothes so high up. Well, this could be complicated. "Err... I'll meet you there?" He asks.
Quark shrugs. "Ok. I'll head over there right now...It's getting late for the start, but we should still be ok. I suppose I can just teleport over there to save some walking time," he adds with a grin. Waving as he turns to go, he focuses his thoughts so he can teleport over towards Emerson. In a few jumps, of course...he can't teleport -that- for in one jump.
Brickyard Theater - Emerson Univerisy
As the main building in the arts center, the theater is also the most frequented by both students and public. A popular and respectable place for visiting artists and playgroups to perform as well as the Emerson University Theater Group, the atmosphere inside is one predominantly of space and shadows. Ground and balcony seating all seem to blend into the majesty of the theater, while the stage itself remains center-focus, framed with delicate red velvet curtains.
[Exits : [St]age, and [O]utside ]
[Players : Tom, Melissa, Forge, Hawksblood, Shane, Claudia, Giggling Redhead(#3258CXZ) (Puppet), Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet), Football Player(#3259CXZ) (Puppet), and Blonde Girl(#3257CXZ) (Puppet) ]
A guide appears at the auditorium entrance with a wary smile and a welcoming gesture. The fact that he's dressed in all black and keeps sending nervous glances over his shoulder is all just part of the Halloween fun - right? He clears his throat and waves toward seats in the first few rows of the auditorium, expecting the crowd to make their way there, and follows cautiously behind.
Oh my oh my. What do you do when one of the girls of campus comes in the room wearing what can only be described as short black lace ruffles and pink leathers that barely falls below her hips. Corset is of the same candied pink; sculpting around her torso and exposing the tops of feminine chest. (If further hidden by the short black lacy ruffles that trim the edges of shiny skirt.) Hair pinned up, curled and coifed into something that almost looks like a hair-style from antiquity. Makeup applied in softer shades, except when it comes to both mouth and eyes; equally following pink schematics. Fish nets and leather strapping adorn both legs and arms in the form of arm socks and stockings held up by cute garters complete with little heart and bow clips. What could she be? Why can you not tell? With lacy ribbons and that hooked shepardess's cane, she can only be a Dominatrix Little Bo Peep. Yes now you will fear. "C'mon, bitch." Speaking to an unnamed person over her shoulder. Leaning against her crooked cane, with foot if the staff rested between high-heeled booted feet. Are you fearing yet? You should.
Ah, it's good to have built-in costumes, isn't it? Unfortunately for Hawksblood, it seems that Melissa has decided that just being a werewolf *isn't* enough. Nope, he's a wolf in sheep's clothing! Um...literally. Tonight, the hulking shape of his bristling, generally ferocious-looking black wolf form is accentuated by a skin of wool thrown over his back and tied beneath his belly, and a satin blue bow tied about his neck, lovingly trimmed with little fake white flowers and properly restricting his breathing. And being led about by his dominatrix sister in pink fishnets, no less, occasionally being beaned over the head by her sheperd's crook of DOOM. ((Damn, Mel,)) he teases mercilessly, ((You're already scarier than anything they've set up in there.)) A nod to the ushering guide.
Quark enters the room, looking around with a skeptical eye. However, he shrugs it off with a friendly smile, joining in on the Halloween spirit. Although he has no costume on, he doesn't really own any. Unsure of what to do, he simply walks towards the front of the auditorium and sits down in the second row. Not too fanatical, but not too 'cool' to sit in the back row, either.
Jeran enters the room and looks around the party, brushing a clawed hand through his hair for a moment and brushing a few stray strands behind his ear. "Ok.. let's see if I can make it through this.." Jeran mutters to himself, though possibly loud enough for those nearby to have heard him. The gargoyle looks around for anyone he knows, his gaze sweeping the room
Goth Chick takes notice of the guide, and with a slight grunt, the girl walks up to the front of the auditorium. She flops into a seat, shooting an even look back at the group, then turns to stare blankly at the stage. Whee. Let's have fun now.
Once everyone is settled, the guide takes his place in front of the stage and begins. "Good evening, and welcome to Emerson's Brickyard Theatre. My name is Ben, and I'm your host of sorts, for now. This is normally the section of the event where I'd give you a background story and set you loose in the maze - tonight, however, I'm sorry to say that we've had to trim down our annual Halloween festivities. We've been having.. incidents.. in the theatre as we prepared for tonight." He gives another nervous look - quite convincing too - to the auditorium around him, and then clears his throat. "Since you've graciously donated to our theatre," he plows on steadfastly, "I'm to give you a story instead. You'll then be welcome to just follow the path backstage to the reception. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience."
Shane strolls into the auditorium fussing with his hair, glancing around slowly and reacting to the various costumes around him with a smirk. He nods quietly to the guide and takes a seat near the back.
Blonde Girl unlatches herself from her boyfriend long enough to find a seat, though her pout returns at the guide's announcement. "This isn't /scary/," she hisses in the devil's ear, tugging down her shortshort skirt as she settles in. Apparently at least one is disappointed in this turn of events.
There's only that sly smile of pink iced lips, that push just enough to threaten to show off those less than normal eye teeth. "Let us mingle!" Waggling her crook threateningly and seemingly to push bent end towards some various corner of the room as vague point of destination. Now this is how you make pink evil. Hiking boot fashioned high heels click below the point of audibility just due to conversation alone. Poised, she slants to lean on her right leg, letting the curve of her hip be more accented and a nice perch for her hand. Now now. What now to do? "Just remember. If you don't behave yerself, next year you're going as a poodle." So she threatens; tossing a meaningful glance over her shoulder and letting those glittery mauve lids half close over dead colored eyes. As Ben begins to speak, the feral Melissa, at least pauses in her parading a possibly embarrassed brother around. She'll listen and be good, and then she'll poke the irritable werewolf with her crook. Bwhaha. Cough.
Football Player glances over at the one-armed man. "Cool costume, yo," he says, after an appraising glance. He pulls himself to his feet, wandering over to the man, trying with only partial success to downplay his swagger as he makes his way toward the a seat. "Looks pretty real."
Forge pokes around for an edge seat that doesn't happen to be too close to the stage nor so far that he'll end up having to trip over students and chairs to leave in the near future. This task is so distracting that he scarcely hears or notices anything other than his own clomp clomp ... until the football player speaks directly to him. He promptly sits down, as if in shock, but smiles with a surprising lack of wariness. "I bet you only /wish/ you could disconnect limbs this well, huh?"
With a dramatic pause, Ben clears his throat and begins, softly. "Every fall the theatre puts on a production here, in this theatre. They have for decades. The works of Miller, Wilde, Chekov, Ibsen, Marlowe - Shakespeare. Some productions are more productive than others, but only one Emerson production has been a true and terrible failure." Ben's hands clasp together, and he levels a look that would send shivers down an unwary observer's back. "Nineteen sixty-seven, Midsummer Night's Dream. It's one of Shakespeare's comedies, a farce about the dangers and mishaps of love. Our Hermia was a freshman, a new face at Emerson, and the department was excited about the future roles she might play. Helen was talented and enthusiastic - and also a nervous wreck. She was brilliant in rehearsal, shining during dress, and a basket case backstage the night of the show." Ben pauses to clear his throat softly and shifts, almost a tad nervous, or apologetic. "The director was determined that his production would be flawless - he gave Helen a bottle of nerve pills and.. suggested.. that she take a few, to calm herself." Ben falls silent again, though whether the pause is to collect himself or to wait for his audience's reaction isn't clear.
Giggling Redhead likes stories, but a little frown appears on her lips... not very appropriate for a princess. "Incidents?" she murmurs to herself, her owlish eyes wide. She picks at her skirts, cautiously, listening to Ben with a worried look. "I could use some of those." Giggle, giggle. Just a little nerves, really.
Hawksblood trails after Melissa like a good little sheep...for now. That's until he wanders and starts *mauling the innocent*! Okay, not really, but he's equal parts wolf and sheep, if the fang-bearing little snarl he gives the occasional lookers-on is any indication. Raven-black fur fluffs beneath the sheepskin weighted across his back. To his credit though, the wolfsheep sits alongside Melissa, ears canting forward as Ben begins to weave his tale. He may be dressed like a sheep, but that doesn't mean he won't get into the Halloween spirit, and allows himself to become a little intrigued by the generic hokey background story.
Quark smiles to himself, eager to hear this 'scary' story. However, he's disappointed to hear that this year's maze has been canceled...He kind of likes mazes. Then again, he can cheat, so they're not so hard. Mentally shrugging it off, he leans back in his chair and reclines, trying to convince himself to feel scared, even though he's not. He frowns in concentration, listening as the story begins. A shame that it seems to be focused on A Midsummer Night's Dream...he really likes that play. Now, he thinks sarcastically, he'll never be able to think about the play without remembering this -dreadful- tale. There's a killer. Still, he's quite inerested in the story, and subconsciously leans forward with interest.
Ben continues, voice still loudly soft in that way actors seem to manage. "They found her collapsed on the dressing room table an hour before the show. She was rushed to the hospital, where the doctors pumped her stomach, and the show was cancelled - postponed, they told the audience. It turned out that Helen had a weak heart. No one's sure how many pills she took, or why, but it her death left the Emerson stage empty for a full year as the department attempted to recover and find a new theatre professor to replace the previous director. Emerson never performed Midsummer Night's Dream again." Ben pauses and draws in a deep breath. "Until last spring."
Norenvalei looks carefully around the room, taking in each person and everything. The phrasing doesn't make any sense to her, words like 'theatre' and 'production' and 'Midsummer Night's Dream'. She pays close attention, to remember later what was said, as someone else might be able to explain it better.
Shane just relaxes in his seat, watching Ben with a discreet expression and listening carefully.
Sidda wanders in, and gigantic pair of undead dogs following her, bones peeking through tails wagging, and just generally being creepy. Hey at least they don't smell! The crowd of people and animals has caught her interest, and she's already in costume, so why not take a peek? The girl is wearing a long black cloak that casts shadow over her face, and carrying a cheesy plastic scythe. Looks like the little necromancer decided to be Death for a bit. She quietly sneaks in the back, getting a feel for what is going on.
Her brother gets a little pat on his head, as the dire wolf gets a careful glance down. There's no indication of Hawksblood being an actual human; more like a pet. "Good dog." Goading her brother in a cheek and tongue manner as her fingers work over both the sheep's fleece and true fur beneath in a small scritch to the rather large creature's head. Never the less, once again Melissa turns her eyes to those in front and speaking, her own head at least tilted in instinctive intrigue. "Maybe I should have went for the riding crop or whip instead of the shepardess's cane..." Muttering to what looks like herself, when in fact she's speaking to the large canine beside her. Oh well. Too late now. Said crook is then gripped tighter in her hands as she leans against the question-mark curved pole nonchalantly.
"Wooohoooohoooo." The football player lets out a low wail, slightly eerie, perhaps slightly mocking. "I'm scared now... to beee-heee-heee orrrrr nooot toooo beee...." he carries off with another soft wail.
Forge coughs, leaning toward the football player conspiritally, "No, he's right. Listen to your DARE instructors, man. You can have some really baaaad trips, take my word for it. What do you think Hamlet was on?"
Ben shoots the football player a look that could easily kill, and the continues. "Recently - since May, really - we've been having problems - things disappearing, being where they shouldn't be, breaking in the middle of the night. There've been a few accidents that have prevented the usual haunted house tonight. I'm not one to agree with ghost stories," Ben notes, "But after enough late nights in the theatre where lights malfunction or suddenly turn on and things move from where you left them and noises creak when there's no one there - even I have to wonder. They said that Helen never really left that dressing room - that the year after her death, things happened in the building." Ben stops, and suddenly presents a bright smile. "But that's just theatre talk for you. A life of fiction and adventure, contained in a building. Now." He waves a hand to the stairs that lead up from the orchestra pit onto the stage. "If you'll just follow the path backstage, you'll find the reception area. I hope the story helps compensate for the lack of other horrors. Thank you for coming." And then quickly, he's heading toward the back of the auditorium to meet the next group.
Giggling Redhead lets out a squeak. "Eep!" The football player scared her... not that she'll admit it. She smooths down her dress, trying to regain composure. Tilting up her nose, she glances over at him. "Hmph. Don't mock Shakespeared!" Shakespeare, Shakespeared, not like she's actually /read/ any of it. Horror of horrors.
Goth Chick just nods, one of her black spikes sinking a little in the motion. "Backstage. Sure. Reception." Bored now. She gets to her feet, glancing down at her smiley-face shirt with a little glare, then sets off for the stairs. "Not much of a /story/, anyway." Scoff, scoff. She'll head backstage, all she wants is cookies and some punch.
Norenvalei finds herself growing nervous, and moves toward the familiar quark with her right hand on the hilt of her obsidian dagger.
Quark rolls his eyes. Stupid jocks...the one kind of person he can't seem to tolerate. It's surprising that he would even know that line's from Shakespeare, but he's way off. He frowns as he looks around in his seat and hears someone familiar talking about Hamlet, and grins in spite of himself. Ah, so it's Forge that's here...Finally, someone who isn't stupid! Turning back in his seat as the guide begins to speak, he listens to the story some more. Finally, he grins as the guide encourages them to take a walk towards the reception area behind the stage, and he does so. He looks around, looking at the few faces he's familiar with, but heads back towards the reception area instead of talking to any of them.
Hawksblood spares the entering Death figure and her pair of decaying hellhounds a slight lipcurl, again revealing the flashing white of his knife-like canines to anyone who so much as looks his way. Grrr, baby. Don't sheep say "baa"? Oh well. He listens to Ben with one ear, sparing a wry glance up to his sister as he catches her commentary with the other. "<>" A pause, seeing Ben's finished, and he heaves to his feet again, ragged tail wagging faintly. "<>"
Stage - Brickyard Theater - Emerson University(#1416RC)
The stage is set for a mischievous fairytale, and every detail seems to build on the next. Trees tower upward, three-dimensional in appearance until you get close enough to touch the papier-mache bark and the painted paper of the drooping, draping leaves. Vines trail from limb to limb, creating a wild paradise, neatly contained. The stage itself seems to be sprinkled with pixie-dust that sparkles, enchanted, in the soft shades of rose and amber that light the set. The trees thicken toward the back of the stage, leading off into the curtains that hang in the wings. In the center of the stage, a trap door is propped open.
[Exits : [Tr]apdoor, [O]ffstage [R]ight, and [M]ain [A]rea ]
[Players : Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet) ]
The brightly-lit stage dims abruptly. Sunset-tinged shades of amber and pink give way to more eerie tones of blues and greens that make the cheery sparkles of fairy dust and the welcome embrace of paper trees seem more sinister and midnight. The stage could easily be set for a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream - if it were inspired by the creepily twisting limbs, hanging moss, and darkened shadows of Sleepy Hollow.
Who has time to worry about the undead dogs when you yourself, and sibling currently in tow, are nothing but large aggressive lycans yourself? But that costume would be so trite considering those movies like Underworld having came out so recently. Hence the adopted Dominatrix Little Bo Peep costume with matching wolf in sheeps clothing. "Cainn." Stating his name, calling her brother calmly as one would usher their pet, walking forward with a private smirk. She says nothing in regards of smacking him upside the head, if only because the promise of cookies and possible candy and other sugary delights have firmly snagged Melissa's attention. Giving her brother's ears one more scratch, she moves forward with her eyes firmly forward and walking with a purpose; so to speak. Any boy caught looking at flirting hemline that dances shamefully high along the tops of her thigh (Ballerina picture! -cough-) better we wary, as the crook she carries gives a sharp knock down as she rests the foot of the staff on the floor again as group seemingly pauses. "And try not to eat anything off the floor, Cainn. You don't know where's its been." Mocking her brother playfully. Since when is SHE the calm one? Ha. Never the less, the stage is given a look over, and an icy smile is her approving mark.
Norenvalei moves over towards Sidda as she arrives. She still isn't comfortable around lots of people, and her nervousness shows in her features. The presence of the apparent animals seems to calm her slightly.
Goth Chick looks around coolly, but she appears a bit impressed, looking at the trees, the set. The darkness of it certainly, appeals to her, and a slight smile appears on her lips... now THAT is scary. She wanders towards the back of the stage, glancing around slowly, almost entranced by it all.
Forge takes a couple of circumvental steps as Norenvalei approaches. If he's not so freakishly wary of her as he has been in the past, she does look a little twitchy and Forge doesn't want to be immediately in the way. Nonetheless, his expression is still cheerful, a little wired without being dangerous. "Look at the scenery! Man, you have to dig a proper black Halloween setting for this kinda thing, none of this chintzy candy corn stuff, huh?"
Quark studies the room, noticing that it actually -does- seem to be out of a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream, albeit slightly...creepy. He walks throughout the room, examining different parts of the scenery. He looks around, and while he still sees a few familiar faces, he also sees a few unguarded exits around the room worth checking out for a momentary stay against boredom. Particularly that trap door off to the side...Who knows, maybe there is a truth to that 'true' story from earlier? Or maybe it's for some other event taking place this evening, and he might risk ruining some cool surprise for everyone else. He compares the pros and cons, still deciding if he wants to go down the trap door or not.
Shane makes his way to the consessions table, pausing only to gawk at the zombie doggies following Sidda. Dude. He slips his hands into his pockets and diverts his course to approach them, his blantant stare of curiousity toned down thanks to the partial mask he's wearing.
A soft breeze suddenly fills the air, despite the enclosed nature of the stage, and on it is the heavy scent of flowers. It stirs the leaves draping overhead and sends sparkling pixie dust whirling into the air.
Sidda's dogs strain to sniff at the other canine, but the girl decides that it may not be a good idea... something about the wolf masquerading as a sheep seems... off. She gives a quick jerk on the leashes and and dogs stop their pull and become obedient. She smirks at Forge's evaluation of the place. Turning to Norenvalei, she says, "You okay, Noren?" Though the other girl may feel insecure, Sidda is enjoying the surroundings. She rests her free hand, the one not looped with leashes and holding her scythe, upon the head of one of her pups. She gives a wink in Shane's direction. Wanna pet the puppies? The animals seem to almost grin at the male...
Hawksblood tags along with nose to the ground, mostly, sniffing at those who have moved in and out of here before them, the scent of greasepaint, paint chips crusted on to the floor. The wolf's head comes up, however, as the lighting transmutes to a a decidedly more ominous cast, ears pricking. "<>" he prompts Melissa, leaning into her scritching a little. His interest is further at the sudden whirl of fresh air, he straightens further. Oooh, hey, this is shaping up to be interesting!
Norenvalei tilts her head at Forge in her almost trademarked manner, "Halloween? chintzy? candy corn?...I don't understand"
Blonde Girl latches herself with a death-grip to her boyfriend's arm, giving a theatrical little shiver of her own. "Ooooh, that's /creepy/," she hisses in his ear, while he pats her arm a bit patronizingly.
Goth Chick is rather happy with sparklies, and the pixie dust certainly counts as that. "Oooh." Pretty. She stares upwards, the glitter of the light, the way it dances. The creepiness hasn't settled in yet, just the shiny.
Forge sneezes in response to the breeze. AAAH, DIVE BOMBING PIXIES! ... He glances briefly at the ceiling as if expecting to see Marsha, but she's somewhat louder than that, isn't she? He unconsciously gets closer to Sidda and thus Noren as he answers. "It's a long explanation and you don't wanna hear it. Consider it a game and let's just see where this one goes."
Shane casts a glance over his shoulder at the burst of fresh air, dismissing it as a hidden air conditioning duct or fan somewhere in the theatre. It seems to take fancier special effects than that to impress him, hence he returns to staring at Sidda's dogs. "Those're great," he says with a polite smile. "You work for a professional SFX company or what?"
Above, a light begins to sputter on and off. Without a gel to soften it, the harsh white light is glaring, and the strobe affect is enough to induce headaches. It starts slowly, flickering and then fading, and soon builds in a blinding crescendo before every light onstage is snuffed out in an instant, and the only light to be seen is dimly glowing from.. under the stage? The shape of a trap door, propped open, is outlined in the center of the floor.
Sidda begins to respond to Shane, "Uh... yes. One really big special effectÐ" and then there go the lights. Her dogs bristle and snarl, and in the darkness, one can hear their chains jingle as the mill around their creator. Sid 's attention now belongs to the light in the center of the floor...
Football Player glances around the room, peering over the tops of his glasses. "K, well this is more like it. Dark at least." he says rather loudly, to anyone who is in earshot, whether or not they want to listen. The trap door catches his attention. "Well, I'm gonna check out downstairs. Anyone else up for some explorin?" Without waiting for a response, he makes his way over to the trapdoor and underneath the stage.
Her nose crinkles. She smells it. Wolf or not in form, she can smell that; as well as feel that cool air drop against her skin. It sends her senses at least to be alert, but dismissed, quietly giving the dead dogs a stare. It's probably a canine thing, but dogs in her territory that are not of her own and of that... Odd look to them sends her more primal mind in to a more possessive mind set. Settling herself she simply goes back to working her fingers against the ruff of his neck, giving him a hard pat to be felt through thick wool and fur. Melissa sighs, and simply leans against the hip-high sized wolf. She'd use him as a bench, but that'd probably be a little bit more odd. The flickering lights don't bother her, she knows they're at a party, but still, the effects bring out those eyes that are canid -- Reflecting that blue lens; playing with her eyes in a way it at least annoys her. Darkness doesn't stop her, eyes adjusting enough to focus quickly on the glowing floor. Cainn is further petted. She'll show that little girl interior, just slightly, gripping at the thick hackles of Cainn's neck in a sign of to stay close. Good dog.
Norenvalei absent mindedly reaches down and scratches the nape of one of sidda's dogs. Sure it's a game, like Forge says, but it's bothering her more than a bit. The sudden darkness makes the smallness of the space all the more apparent to her, especially with the trapdoor outlined by a slight glowing. Her nerves are a titter and her control of her ability is slowly beginning to slip, the air around her starting to slowly chill slightly.
Blonde Girl doesn't want to go, as evidenced by her firm headshake and her tugging of her boyfriend's arm in the opposite direction. As the devil-clad thug is rather larger than her, though, the boyfriend wins, and so down into the trapdoor the duo goes. Eep.
Forge blinks rapidly in response to the strobes, as is only appropriate, and ends up staring at the somewhat saner floor until the bozos stop messing with the lights. Forge was always into the /shadows/ of Halloween, not the crazy loser light effects. Unless he's doing them, of course. He's unnerved, rather than irritated, by two things. One, Sidda's pets are bristling, two, there's this odd sense of chill, of hair on end, of being watched -- but the second effect tends to happen to him in /every/ Halloween party ... and there's the glowing trap door. "Who guesses that's where we're supposed to go?" he asks drily, but doesn't move until Sidda does.
Hawksblood is a good little ovine guard dog, and stays obediently at Melissa's side -- not that he's given much of a choice with her hands thickly wound into his fur and all. A low rumble from the depths of his throat is given though, as the lighting dims, equal parts interest and wariness. Turning that boxy black head aside and glancing up towards sister's insanely flashing features, just before all goes black, he gives her staff a little nip. "<>"
Goth Chick glowers at the trap door. "How 'bout 'no'?" But she can't resist something good and dark and freaky, so... away she goes, reluctantly. Yet there's curiosity in her eyes.
Quark smiles in spite of himself, his particular thoughts about the trap door being correct. Good thing he didn't go looking into it after all. Or is that what they're supposed to do? That's the problem with these kind of effects...either you assume correctly and do as you were expected to do, or you assume incorrectly and ruin the cool effects. Shrugging, he decides to follow the crowd into the cool trap door. If everyone else is doing it, it has to be right...right?
Under The Stage - Emerson University(#1455RC)
Cobwebs cover the low ceiling, only about six feet of space from the floor to the ceiling, where slight lines of dim light appear as the outlines of trapdoors in the stage above. The space is small and musty, a system of pulleys on one side, while the rest is empty. Cracks appear on the cement below, while the slight shafts of light that appear through a half-open trapdoor cast light that seems to illuminate a strange face in dirt and grime on one of the walls.
[Exits : [G]o [O]nstage ]
[Players : Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet), Melissa, Hawksblood, and Football Player(#3259CXZ) (Puppet) ]
THUNK! A sudden loud sound echoes across the stage. A trapdoor has fallen, no longer propped open. And then all rests silently once more
Football Player jumps, bumping into someone who had followed him down. "Uh, sorry," he mumbles. "I.. uh, lost my footing." Yeah, likely excuse.
Quark glances up to the sound of the trap door shutting, starting to become impressed by the creepy effects. Then again, worse come to worse, he can always teleport out of here if something is amiss. He decides to wait, forcing back his grin so it doesn't appear he's trying to spoil the party.
Blonde Girl /screams/, a high-pitched squeal that only a girl of the ditzy persuasion could truly manage. From the satisfied look on her boyfriend's face as she attaches herself to his side, this is exactly what he had in mind.
Norenvalei holds the leash tight, and jumps at the noise. She backs away, shivering and stuttering, more than a little afraid. The temperature immediately around her starts falling quickly towards freezing as she falls over her own two feet trying to get back.
Forge clamps his hands over his ears. Okay, that's waaay more irritating than strobe lights. "Oh, come on, as if that wasn't completely and totally predictable," he mutters, although his insides are quivering a bit, but that has nothing to do with ... He glances hard at Noren. "Cut that out," he hisses urgently.
Given the place, again there's that rational thought threading through her head, reminding her that this is all just a prank. But still that training in both Danger Room and instincts provides her with a sense of disquiet. Premiering smile primes her mouth as she's guided by her feral brother, letting him lead. After all, what's better than a big brother how sets things on fire? Ha. Melissa gives a sigh and follows, if a little reluctantly, wary of going down the trapdoor area. Heels were not meant for such activities. "If I fall, someone better catch my sorry butt." Snorting her warning beneath her breath as she finds her footing and moves carefully down. Thunk? Over head after more bodies slide down, the dark door is given a frowning glance up. Oh dear. Poor Cainn's ears promise to be rubbed raw. His ears and neck rubbed by Melissa. Oh yes. Rub rub scritchie scritchie. The Blonde's shattering scream further aggitates her. RUB RUB! .. Gah. Poor Cainn's head will be bald...you jus' watch n' see. c_c
Cheek cheek! A strange squeaking sound seems to erupt, from all directions, the terrified squeaking of mice that lasts for a long moment before leaving as quickly as it came. There is no sign of them, only the faint shifting of cobwebs, like a slight breeze blowing through... The temperature suddenly drops slightly.'
Sidda yips, one of those annoying girlie sounds that she hates oh-so-much. Not as pain invoking as the blond girl's screech, however. She reaches out and grabs Forge, her dogs pretending to be all tough and growling.
Giggling Redhead lets out her own shriek. "EW! What's that SOUND?!" She hates rodents. And anything that sounds like rodents. Even cute widdle rubber duckies. She wrings her hands, looking around nervously... Dark, creepy... Yeah, that's not what she likes. She looks up at the closed trapdoor, tears beginning to glimmer in her eyes. "I want out, I want out..."
Hawksblood fluffs up a bit, rather like a cat, hackles bristling as he pauses on the steps a moment, eyes owlish and teeth half-bared, before slowly continuing on, with Melissa's hand upon his back. "<>" He endures her cranial assault, though, with patient affection, although a vaguely uninterested glance is spared back towards the sudden rush of cold emitting from that shady girl in the back. Oh look, an uncontrolled mutant. Ooh, but even more interesting...mice! Yay.
While previously dark in the room, there is a slow increase in light. A glance upwards would reveal the source -- a trapdoor, rising slowly, seemingly of its own volition. It rises up to be perpendicular with the stage, the dim stage light offering better illumination of the dusty space under the stage. The door remains half-open, before almost violently being thrown fully open, hitting the stage with a 'thunk'.
Forge seizes up, Sidda's fingers kinda making stretches in his stylish (coughSalvationArmycough) black shirt, more unnerved than he wants to admit. It's a freaking sound effect, Forge. "Just a CD, you know, they hand those out around Halloween just for this purpose." It'd help if it wasn't so dark, of course, and if Noren would stop emitting! ... And then the trapdoor opens and Forge smiles triumphantly. "See! All good!"
Norenvalei spots the opening and dashes through it with all the speed of a squirrel on crack.
Quark shrugs, and realizes that it's all good. Guess it's time to head back up? He follows Noren, although nowhere near as excited to get out of the room...
Stage - Brickyard Theater - Emerson University(#1416RC)
The stage is set for a mischievous fairytale, and every detail seems to build on the next. Trees tower upward, three-dimensional in appearance until you get close enough to touch the papier-mache bark and the painted paper of the drooping, draping leaves. Vines trail from limb to limb, creating a wild paradise, neatly contained. The stage itself seems to be sprinkled with pixie-dust that sparkles, enchanted, in the soft shades of rose and amber that light the set. The trees thicken toward the back of the stage, leading off into the curtains that hang in the wings. In the center of the stage, a trap door is propped open.
[Exits : [Tr]apdoor, [O]ffstage [R]ight, and [M]ain [A]rea ]
[Players : Norenvalei ]
A girl's high-pitched, good-natured giggles ring through the air abruptly. Footsteps hurry toward the sound, which ends just as suddenly, leaving the air in still silence.
Giggling Redhead screams. Loudly. The second the trapdoor opened, she was off like a shot, and now she's running in giggling, squeaking terror offstage. "Eeeeeeee!" Poor girl.
Forge is following Sidda a little sheepishly, trying to keep a basic hand on her shoulder for compensation. "Hey, I was scared, too ... just trying to play otherwise, you know? Give me a moment to play a role besides the wuss!" Aah, fresh air. And there's all this giggling and screaming, but that's okay!
Blonde Girl is caught up in the terror - really - and shoots toward the offstage - right, that is - after the redhead.
Quark frowns, unsure if this is also part of the goofing off or not. Shrugging, he decides to look into it and heads off to the side of the stage to see what's going on.
Offstage Right - Emerson University(#1919RC)
The stage-right wing is crowded with a complicated-looking system of pulleys and ropes that are doubtless used to fly scenery in and out of the stage. A rickety steel ladder rises upward toward the catwalks, and long, black curtains crowd toward the stage to block all sight of technical activities from the audience. In some places, the curtains seem almost claustrophobic, especially in those areas where they compete with tables, piled with props and costume changes.
[Exits : [G]o [O]nstage, [D]ressing [R]oom, and [B]ackstage ]
[Players : Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet), and Giggling Redhead(#3258CXZ) (Puppet) ]
On a more serious note, does anyone know of a school somewhere near NYC that might be geared more towards mutants in general? I've been looking into different schools in the community for some more advanced classes, and I keep having trouble at school with stupid bullies trying to harass mutants. I know I don't really have any obvious physical mutations, but a few people that seem to hate mutants at our school have decidedly learned that flashing neon green eyes every now and then are not normal. Personally, if there was a good school around here where all of the people not only tolerate but actually like mutants, I would love to look into it. Anyone feel like leaving me a comment? That's what it's for, you know. ;-) Thanks for the help!
OOC: Ok, here's the Emerson party log. Sorry, I had to leave, so I don't have the whole thing. I also missed a few of the last poses, but they weren't anything really important. Maybe Forge will post it on his LJ account some time? ;-)
Wooded Path - Central Park
Sectioned off a bit from the rest of Central Park North is this reclusive little path winding amidst the woodier areas of the park. It's blissfully serene here, the picturesque image of chirping birds and sunshine, on pleasant days. The surrounding trees form a tight network of mini-forest, so that the rest of the park and all its occupants seem miles away beyond the verdant foliage and tree-trunks which range from birch to oak to elm, randomly.
[Exits : [R]eservoir ]
[Players : Tom ]
Tom is.... here. It's amazing, isn't it? He's trying to be reclusive again, meaning he's trying to find a place where he can't hear people, which is quite a feat in a place like New York. He finally found his place, though, and it's sitting under a tree. He's currently dozing a bit, although you can't really tell because of those crazy sunglasses tye thing.
Quark walks off of the main path going through Central Park, also trying to find a bit of peace and quiet after finally finishing all of his homework. Yay!! Seriously, what kind of high school teachers give out homework on the night before Halloween? Any sane teacher should know that teens are too busy buying a plethora of raw eggs and throwable rolls of toilet paper...sheesh. Thank goodness Chris lives in an apartment, at least for now. Spying a person sitting by the tree, he hesitates to sit over here in the quiet. He notices however that it's Tom, the arcade owner. Of course oblivious to Tom's attempts to nap, he grins and asks, "Tom, how've you been? Haven't seen you out of the arcade in a while, I think."
Tom's head jerks up. "Huh?" asks Tom, as he looks around to see where the sound is coming from. "Uh... Oh. Hi." Well, he's kinda jittery.;'s head jerks up. "Huh?" asks Tom, as he looks around to see where the sound is coming from. "Uh... Oh. Hi." Well, he's kinda jittery. "What brings you out here to the middle of nowhere?" Myea, it's that teleporting kid.
Quark shrugs, replying with a friendly smile, "Probably the same as you...just a bit of peace and quiet after a long, stressful day." He frowns slightly, asking, "I'm sorry, you weren't asleep, were you? I didn't mean to interrupt anything..." He actually doesn't like to bother people when they're asleep.
Tom shrugs. "Nah, not really. I'm just thinking. You know, when you think about thinking, or just let your thoughts wander off...." Tom kinda drifts away. ... Wierd. Oh yea, and don't look up, you might notice a plastic bag up on a tree branch. Stupid pranksters. But there's something in it. Tom himself has a walking stick next to him. Looks decorative, although it's jsut a piece of wood.
Quark nods slowly, pretending to understand what he's talking about. He glances at the watch, not sure of how long he's been wandering around parts of Central Park. Then he realizes it's getting late--in fact, he's late for the big Halloween party over at Emerson University! "Hey Tom, have you heard about the party over at Emerson? I was thinking about going. D'you want to come along?"
Tom literally jumps up to his feet. "Oh, Wait! I was going to go!" Tom says, a bit loudly. He then looks up... and just as quickly, looks at Quark. Dangit! Why did he have to put the clothes so high up. Well, this could be complicated. "Err... I'll meet you there?" He asks.
Quark shrugs. "Ok. I'll head over there right now...It's getting late for the start, but we should still be ok. I suppose I can just teleport over there to save some walking time," he adds with a grin. Waving as he turns to go, he focuses his thoughts so he can teleport over towards Emerson. In a few jumps, of course...he can't teleport -that- for in one jump.
Brickyard Theater - Emerson Univerisy
As the main building in the arts center, the theater is also the most frequented by both students and public. A popular and respectable place for visiting artists and playgroups to perform as well as the Emerson University Theater Group, the atmosphere inside is one predominantly of space and shadows. Ground and balcony seating all seem to blend into the majesty of the theater, while the stage itself remains center-focus, framed with delicate red velvet curtains.
[Exits : [St]age, and [O]utside ]
[Players : Tom, Melissa, Forge, Hawksblood, Shane, Claudia, Giggling Redhead(#3258CXZ) (Puppet), Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet), Football Player(#3259CXZ) (Puppet), and Blonde Girl(#3257CXZ) (Puppet) ]
A guide appears at the auditorium entrance with a wary smile and a welcoming gesture. The fact that he's dressed in all black and keeps sending nervous glances over his shoulder is all just part of the Halloween fun - right? He clears his throat and waves toward seats in the first few rows of the auditorium, expecting the crowd to make their way there, and follows cautiously behind.
Oh my oh my. What do you do when one of the girls of campus comes in the room wearing what can only be described as short black lace ruffles and pink leathers that barely falls below her hips. Corset is of the same candied pink; sculpting around her torso and exposing the tops of feminine chest. (If further hidden by the short black lacy ruffles that trim the edges of shiny skirt.) Hair pinned up, curled and coifed into something that almost looks like a hair-style from antiquity. Makeup applied in softer shades, except when it comes to both mouth and eyes; equally following pink schematics. Fish nets and leather strapping adorn both legs and arms in the form of arm socks and stockings held up by cute garters complete with little heart and bow clips. What could she be? Why can you not tell? With lacy ribbons and that hooked shepardess's cane, she can only be a Dominatrix Little Bo Peep. Yes now you will fear. "C'mon, bitch." Speaking to an unnamed person over her shoulder. Leaning against her crooked cane, with foot if the staff rested between high-heeled booted feet. Are you fearing yet? You should.
Ah, it's good to have built-in costumes, isn't it? Unfortunately for Hawksblood, it seems that Melissa has decided that just being a werewolf *isn't* enough. Nope, he's a wolf in sheep's clothing! Um...literally. Tonight, the hulking shape of his bristling, generally ferocious-looking black wolf form is accentuated by a skin of wool thrown over his back and tied beneath his belly, and a satin blue bow tied about his neck, lovingly trimmed with little fake white flowers and properly restricting his breathing. And being led about by his dominatrix sister in pink fishnets, no less, occasionally being beaned over the head by her sheperd's crook of DOOM. ((Damn, Mel,)) he teases mercilessly, ((You're already scarier than anything they've set up in there.)) A nod to the ushering guide.
Quark enters the room, looking around with a skeptical eye. However, he shrugs it off with a friendly smile, joining in on the Halloween spirit. Although he has no costume on, he doesn't really own any. Unsure of what to do, he simply walks towards the front of the auditorium and sits down in the second row. Not too fanatical, but not too 'cool' to sit in the back row, either.
Jeran enters the room and looks around the party, brushing a clawed hand through his hair for a moment and brushing a few stray strands behind his ear. "Ok.. let's see if I can make it through this.." Jeran mutters to himself, though possibly loud enough for those nearby to have heard him. The gargoyle looks around for anyone he knows, his gaze sweeping the room
Goth Chick takes notice of the guide, and with a slight grunt, the girl walks up to the front of the auditorium. She flops into a seat, shooting an even look back at the group, then turns to stare blankly at the stage. Whee. Let's have fun now.
Once everyone is settled, the guide takes his place in front of the stage and begins. "Good evening, and welcome to Emerson's Brickyard Theatre. My name is Ben, and I'm your host of sorts, for now. This is normally the section of the event where I'd give you a background story and set you loose in the maze - tonight, however, I'm sorry to say that we've had to trim down our annual Halloween festivities. We've been having.. incidents.. in the theatre as we prepared for tonight." He gives another nervous look - quite convincing too - to the auditorium around him, and then clears his throat. "Since you've graciously donated to our theatre," he plows on steadfastly, "I'm to give you a story instead. You'll then be welcome to just follow the path backstage to the reception. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience."
Shane strolls into the auditorium fussing with his hair, glancing around slowly and reacting to the various costumes around him with a smirk. He nods quietly to the guide and takes a seat near the back.
Blonde Girl unlatches herself from her boyfriend long enough to find a seat, though her pout returns at the guide's announcement. "This isn't /scary/," she hisses in the devil's ear, tugging down her shortshort skirt as she settles in. Apparently at least one is disappointed in this turn of events.
There's only that sly smile of pink iced lips, that push just enough to threaten to show off those less than normal eye teeth. "Let us mingle!" Waggling her crook threateningly and seemingly to push bent end towards some various corner of the room as vague point of destination. Now this is how you make pink evil. Hiking boot fashioned high heels click below the point of audibility just due to conversation alone. Poised, she slants to lean on her right leg, letting the curve of her hip be more accented and a nice perch for her hand. Now now. What now to do? "Just remember. If you don't behave yerself, next year you're going as a poodle." So she threatens; tossing a meaningful glance over her shoulder and letting those glittery mauve lids half close over dead colored eyes. As Ben begins to speak, the feral Melissa, at least pauses in her parading a possibly embarrassed brother around. She'll listen and be good, and then she'll poke the irritable werewolf with her crook. Bwhaha. Cough.
Football Player glances over at the one-armed man. "Cool costume, yo," he says, after an appraising glance. He pulls himself to his feet, wandering over to the man, trying with only partial success to downplay his swagger as he makes his way toward the a seat. "Looks pretty real."
Forge pokes around for an edge seat that doesn't happen to be too close to the stage nor so far that he'll end up having to trip over students and chairs to leave in the near future. This task is so distracting that he scarcely hears or notices anything other than his own clomp clomp ... until the football player speaks directly to him. He promptly sits down, as if in shock, but smiles with a surprising lack of wariness. "I bet you only /wish/ you could disconnect limbs this well, huh?"
With a dramatic pause, Ben clears his throat and begins, softly. "Every fall the theatre puts on a production here, in this theatre. They have for decades. The works of Miller, Wilde, Chekov, Ibsen, Marlowe - Shakespeare. Some productions are more productive than others, but only one Emerson production has been a true and terrible failure." Ben's hands clasp together, and he levels a look that would send shivers down an unwary observer's back. "Nineteen sixty-seven, Midsummer Night's Dream. It's one of Shakespeare's comedies, a farce about the dangers and mishaps of love. Our Hermia was a freshman, a new face at Emerson, and the department was excited about the future roles she might play. Helen was talented and enthusiastic - and also a nervous wreck. She was brilliant in rehearsal, shining during dress, and a basket case backstage the night of the show." Ben pauses to clear his throat softly and shifts, almost a tad nervous, or apologetic. "The director was determined that his production would be flawless - he gave Helen a bottle of nerve pills and.. suggested.. that she take a few, to calm herself." Ben falls silent again, though whether the pause is to collect himself or to wait for his audience's reaction isn't clear.
Giggling Redhead likes stories, but a little frown appears on her lips... not very appropriate for a princess. "Incidents?" she murmurs to herself, her owlish eyes wide. She picks at her skirts, cautiously, listening to Ben with a worried look. "I could use some of those." Giggle, giggle. Just a little nerves, really.
Hawksblood trails after Melissa like a good little sheep...for now. That's until he wanders and starts *mauling the innocent*! Okay, not really, but he's equal parts wolf and sheep, if the fang-bearing little snarl he gives the occasional lookers-on is any indication. Raven-black fur fluffs beneath the sheepskin weighted across his back. To his credit though, the wolfsheep sits alongside Melissa, ears canting forward as Ben begins to weave his tale. He may be dressed like a sheep, but that doesn't mean he won't get into the Halloween spirit, and allows himself to become a little intrigued by the generic hokey background story.
Quark smiles to himself, eager to hear this 'scary' story. However, he's disappointed to hear that this year's maze has been canceled...He kind of likes mazes. Then again, he can cheat, so they're not so hard. Mentally shrugging it off, he leans back in his chair and reclines, trying to convince himself to feel scared, even though he's not. He frowns in concentration, listening as the story begins. A shame that it seems to be focused on A Midsummer Night's Dream...he really likes that play. Now, he thinks sarcastically, he'll never be able to think about the play without remembering this -dreadful- tale. There's a killer. Still, he's quite inerested in the story, and subconsciously leans forward with interest.
Ben continues, voice still loudly soft in that way actors seem to manage. "They found her collapsed on the dressing room table an hour before the show. She was rushed to the hospital, where the doctors pumped her stomach, and the show was cancelled - postponed, they told the audience. It turned out that Helen had a weak heart. No one's sure how many pills she took, or why, but it her death left the Emerson stage empty for a full year as the department attempted to recover and find a new theatre professor to replace the previous director. Emerson never performed Midsummer Night's Dream again." Ben pauses and draws in a deep breath. "Until last spring."
Norenvalei looks carefully around the room, taking in each person and everything. The phrasing doesn't make any sense to her, words like 'theatre' and 'production' and 'Midsummer Night's Dream'. She pays close attention, to remember later what was said, as someone else might be able to explain it better.
Shane just relaxes in his seat, watching Ben with a discreet expression and listening carefully.
Sidda wanders in, and gigantic pair of undead dogs following her, bones peeking through tails wagging, and just generally being creepy. Hey at least they don't smell! The crowd of people and animals has caught her interest, and she's already in costume, so why not take a peek? The girl is wearing a long black cloak that casts shadow over her face, and carrying a cheesy plastic scythe. Looks like the little necromancer decided to be Death for a bit. She quietly sneaks in the back, getting a feel for what is going on.
Her brother gets a little pat on his head, as the dire wolf gets a careful glance down. There's no indication of Hawksblood being an actual human; more like a pet. "Good dog." Goading her brother in a cheek and tongue manner as her fingers work over both the sheep's fleece and true fur beneath in a small scritch to the rather large creature's head. Never the less, once again Melissa turns her eyes to those in front and speaking, her own head at least tilted in instinctive intrigue. "Maybe I should have went for the riding crop or whip instead of the shepardess's cane..." Muttering to what looks like herself, when in fact she's speaking to the large canine beside her. Oh well. Too late now. Said crook is then gripped tighter in her hands as she leans against the question-mark curved pole nonchalantly.
"Wooohoooohoooo." The football player lets out a low wail, slightly eerie, perhaps slightly mocking. "I'm scared now... to beee-heee-heee orrrrr nooot toooo beee...." he carries off with another soft wail.
Forge coughs, leaning toward the football player conspiritally, "No, he's right. Listen to your DARE instructors, man. You can have some really baaaad trips, take my word for it. What do you think Hamlet was on?"
Ben shoots the football player a look that could easily kill, and the continues. "Recently - since May, really - we've been having problems - things disappearing, being where they shouldn't be, breaking in the middle of the night. There've been a few accidents that have prevented the usual haunted house tonight. I'm not one to agree with ghost stories," Ben notes, "But after enough late nights in the theatre where lights malfunction or suddenly turn on and things move from where you left them and noises creak when there's no one there - even I have to wonder. They said that Helen never really left that dressing room - that the year after her death, things happened in the building." Ben stops, and suddenly presents a bright smile. "But that's just theatre talk for you. A life of fiction and adventure, contained in a building. Now." He waves a hand to the stairs that lead up from the orchestra pit onto the stage. "If you'll just follow the path backstage, you'll find the reception area. I hope the story helps compensate for the lack of other horrors. Thank you for coming." And then quickly, he's heading toward the back of the auditorium to meet the next group.
Giggling Redhead lets out a squeak. "Eep!" The football player scared her... not that she'll admit it. She smooths down her dress, trying to regain composure. Tilting up her nose, she glances over at him. "Hmph. Don't mock Shakespeared!" Shakespeare, Shakespeared, not like she's actually /read/ any of it. Horror of horrors.
Goth Chick just nods, one of her black spikes sinking a little in the motion. "Backstage. Sure. Reception." Bored now. She gets to her feet, glancing down at her smiley-face shirt with a little glare, then sets off for the stairs. "Not much of a /story/, anyway." Scoff, scoff. She'll head backstage, all she wants is cookies and some punch.
Norenvalei finds herself growing nervous, and moves toward the familiar quark with her right hand on the hilt of her obsidian dagger.
Quark rolls his eyes. Stupid jocks...the one kind of person he can't seem to tolerate. It's surprising that he would even know that line's from Shakespeare, but he's way off. He frowns as he looks around in his seat and hears someone familiar talking about Hamlet, and grins in spite of himself. Ah, so it's Forge that's here...Finally, someone who isn't stupid! Turning back in his seat as the guide begins to speak, he listens to the story some more. Finally, he grins as the guide encourages them to take a walk towards the reception area behind the stage, and he does so. He looks around, looking at the few faces he's familiar with, but heads back towards the reception area instead of talking to any of them.
Hawksblood spares the entering Death figure and her pair of decaying hellhounds a slight lipcurl, again revealing the flashing white of his knife-like canines to anyone who so much as looks his way. Grrr, baby. Don't sheep say "baa"? Oh well. He listens to Ben with one ear, sparing a wry glance up to his sister as he catches her commentary with the other. "<>" A pause, seeing Ben's finished, and he heaves to his feet again, ragged tail wagging faintly. "<>"
Stage - Brickyard Theater - Emerson University(#1416RC)
The stage is set for a mischievous fairytale, and every detail seems to build on the next. Trees tower upward, three-dimensional in appearance until you get close enough to touch the papier-mache bark and the painted paper of the drooping, draping leaves. Vines trail from limb to limb, creating a wild paradise, neatly contained. The stage itself seems to be sprinkled with pixie-dust that sparkles, enchanted, in the soft shades of rose and amber that light the set. The trees thicken toward the back of the stage, leading off into the curtains that hang in the wings. In the center of the stage, a trap door is propped open.
[Exits : [Tr]apdoor, [O]ffstage [R]ight, and [M]ain [A]rea ]
[Players : Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet) ]
The brightly-lit stage dims abruptly. Sunset-tinged shades of amber and pink give way to more eerie tones of blues and greens that make the cheery sparkles of fairy dust and the welcome embrace of paper trees seem more sinister and midnight. The stage could easily be set for a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream - if it were inspired by the creepily twisting limbs, hanging moss, and darkened shadows of Sleepy Hollow.
Who has time to worry about the undead dogs when you yourself, and sibling currently in tow, are nothing but large aggressive lycans yourself? But that costume would be so trite considering those movies like Underworld having came out so recently. Hence the adopted Dominatrix Little Bo Peep costume with matching wolf in sheeps clothing. "Cainn." Stating his name, calling her brother calmly as one would usher their pet, walking forward with a private smirk. She says nothing in regards of smacking him upside the head, if only because the promise of cookies and possible candy and other sugary delights have firmly snagged Melissa's attention. Giving her brother's ears one more scratch, she moves forward with her eyes firmly forward and walking with a purpose; so to speak. Any boy caught looking at flirting hemline that dances shamefully high along the tops of her thigh (Ballerina picture! -cough-) better we wary, as the crook she carries gives a sharp knock down as she rests the foot of the staff on the floor again as group seemingly pauses. "And try not to eat anything off the floor, Cainn. You don't know where's its been." Mocking her brother playfully. Since when is SHE the calm one? Ha. Never the less, the stage is given a look over, and an icy smile is her approving mark.
Norenvalei moves over towards Sidda as she arrives. She still isn't comfortable around lots of people, and her nervousness shows in her features. The presence of the apparent animals seems to calm her slightly.
Goth Chick looks around coolly, but she appears a bit impressed, looking at the trees, the set. The darkness of it certainly, appeals to her, and a slight smile appears on her lips... now THAT is scary. She wanders towards the back of the stage, glancing around slowly, almost entranced by it all.
Forge takes a couple of circumvental steps as Norenvalei approaches. If he's not so freakishly wary of her as he has been in the past, she does look a little twitchy and Forge doesn't want to be immediately in the way. Nonetheless, his expression is still cheerful, a little wired without being dangerous. "Look at the scenery! Man, you have to dig a proper black Halloween setting for this kinda thing, none of this chintzy candy corn stuff, huh?"
Quark studies the room, noticing that it actually -does- seem to be out of a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream, albeit slightly...creepy. He walks throughout the room, examining different parts of the scenery. He looks around, and while he still sees a few familiar faces, he also sees a few unguarded exits around the room worth checking out for a momentary stay against boredom. Particularly that trap door off to the side...Who knows, maybe there is a truth to that 'true' story from earlier? Or maybe it's for some other event taking place this evening, and he might risk ruining some cool surprise for everyone else. He compares the pros and cons, still deciding if he wants to go down the trap door or not.
Shane makes his way to the consessions table, pausing only to gawk at the zombie doggies following Sidda. Dude. He slips his hands into his pockets and diverts his course to approach them, his blantant stare of curiousity toned down thanks to the partial mask he's wearing.
A soft breeze suddenly fills the air, despite the enclosed nature of the stage, and on it is the heavy scent of flowers. It stirs the leaves draping overhead and sends sparkling pixie dust whirling into the air.
Sidda's dogs strain to sniff at the other canine, but the girl decides that it may not be a good idea... something about the wolf masquerading as a sheep seems... off. She gives a quick jerk on the leashes and and dogs stop their pull and become obedient. She smirks at Forge's evaluation of the place. Turning to Norenvalei, she says, "You okay, Noren?" Though the other girl may feel insecure, Sidda is enjoying the surroundings. She rests her free hand, the one not looped with leashes and holding her scythe, upon the head of one of her pups. She gives a wink in Shane's direction. Wanna pet the puppies? The animals seem to almost grin at the male...
Hawksblood tags along with nose to the ground, mostly, sniffing at those who have moved in and out of here before them, the scent of greasepaint, paint chips crusted on to the floor. The wolf's head comes up, however, as the lighting transmutes to a a decidedly more ominous cast, ears pricking. "<>" he prompts Melissa, leaning into her scritching a little. His interest is further at the sudden whirl of fresh air, he straightens further. Oooh, hey, this is shaping up to be interesting!
Norenvalei tilts her head at Forge in her almost trademarked manner, "Halloween? chintzy? candy corn?...I don't understand"
Blonde Girl latches herself with a death-grip to her boyfriend's arm, giving a theatrical little shiver of her own. "Ooooh, that's /creepy/," she hisses in his ear, while he pats her arm a bit patronizingly.
Goth Chick is rather happy with sparklies, and the pixie dust certainly counts as that. "Oooh." Pretty. She stares upwards, the glitter of the light, the way it dances. The creepiness hasn't settled in yet, just the shiny.
Forge sneezes in response to the breeze. AAAH, DIVE BOMBING PIXIES! ... He glances briefly at the ceiling as if expecting to see Marsha, but she's somewhat louder than that, isn't she? He unconsciously gets closer to Sidda and thus Noren as he answers. "It's a long explanation and you don't wanna hear it. Consider it a game and let's just see where this one goes."
Shane casts a glance over his shoulder at the burst of fresh air, dismissing it as a hidden air conditioning duct or fan somewhere in the theatre. It seems to take fancier special effects than that to impress him, hence he returns to staring at Sidda's dogs. "Those're great," he says with a polite smile. "You work for a professional SFX company or what?"
Above, a light begins to sputter on and off. Without a gel to soften it, the harsh white light is glaring, and the strobe affect is enough to induce headaches. It starts slowly, flickering and then fading, and soon builds in a blinding crescendo before every light onstage is snuffed out in an instant, and the only light to be seen is dimly glowing from.. under the stage? The shape of a trap door, propped open, is outlined in the center of the floor.
Sidda begins to respond to Shane, "Uh... yes. One really big special effectÐ" and then there go the lights. Her dogs bristle and snarl, and in the darkness, one can hear their chains jingle as the mill around their creator. Sid 's attention now belongs to the light in the center of the floor...
Football Player glances around the room, peering over the tops of his glasses. "K, well this is more like it. Dark at least." he says rather loudly, to anyone who is in earshot, whether or not they want to listen. The trap door catches his attention. "Well, I'm gonna check out downstairs. Anyone else up for some explorin?" Without waiting for a response, he makes his way over to the trapdoor and underneath the stage.
Her nose crinkles. She smells it. Wolf or not in form, she can smell that; as well as feel that cool air drop against her skin. It sends her senses at least to be alert, but dismissed, quietly giving the dead dogs a stare. It's probably a canine thing, but dogs in her territory that are not of her own and of that... Odd look to them sends her more primal mind in to a more possessive mind set. Settling herself she simply goes back to working her fingers against the ruff of his neck, giving him a hard pat to be felt through thick wool and fur. Melissa sighs, and simply leans against the hip-high sized wolf. She'd use him as a bench, but that'd probably be a little bit more odd. The flickering lights don't bother her, she knows they're at a party, but still, the effects bring out those eyes that are canid -- Reflecting that blue lens; playing with her eyes in a way it at least annoys her. Darkness doesn't stop her, eyes adjusting enough to focus quickly on the glowing floor. Cainn is further petted. She'll show that little girl interior, just slightly, gripping at the thick hackles of Cainn's neck in a sign of to stay close. Good dog.
Norenvalei absent mindedly reaches down and scratches the nape of one of sidda's dogs. Sure it's a game, like Forge says, but it's bothering her more than a bit. The sudden darkness makes the smallness of the space all the more apparent to her, especially with the trapdoor outlined by a slight glowing. Her nerves are a titter and her control of her ability is slowly beginning to slip, the air around her starting to slowly chill slightly.
Blonde Girl doesn't want to go, as evidenced by her firm headshake and her tugging of her boyfriend's arm in the opposite direction. As the devil-clad thug is rather larger than her, though, the boyfriend wins, and so down into the trapdoor the duo goes. Eep.
Forge blinks rapidly in response to the strobes, as is only appropriate, and ends up staring at the somewhat saner floor until the bozos stop messing with the lights. Forge was always into the /shadows/ of Halloween, not the crazy loser light effects. Unless he's doing them, of course. He's unnerved, rather than irritated, by two things. One, Sidda's pets are bristling, two, there's this odd sense of chill, of hair on end, of being watched -- but the second effect tends to happen to him in /every/ Halloween party ... and there's the glowing trap door. "Who guesses that's where we're supposed to go?" he asks drily, but doesn't move until Sidda does.
Hawksblood is a good little ovine guard dog, and stays obediently at Melissa's side -- not that he's given much of a choice with her hands thickly wound into his fur and all. A low rumble from the depths of his throat is given though, as the lighting dims, equal parts interest and wariness. Turning that boxy black head aside and glancing up towards sister's insanely flashing features, just before all goes black, he gives her staff a little nip. "<>"
Goth Chick glowers at the trap door. "How 'bout 'no'?" But she can't resist something good and dark and freaky, so... away she goes, reluctantly. Yet there's curiosity in her eyes.
Quark smiles in spite of himself, his particular thoughts about the trap door being correct. Good thing he didn't go looking into it after all. Or is that what they're supposed to do? That's the problem with these kind of effects...either you assume correctly and do as you were expected to do, or you assume incorrectly and ruin the cool effects. Shrugging, he decides to follow the crowd into the cool trap door. If everyone else is doing it, it has to be right...right?
Under The Stage - Emerson University(#1455RC)
Cobwebs cover the low ceiling, only about six feet of space from the floor to the ceiling, where slight lines of dim light appear as the outlines of trapdoors in the stage above. The space is small and musty, a system of pulleys on one side, while the rest is empty. Cracks appear on the cement below, while the slight shafts of light that appear through a half-open trapdoor cast light that seems to illuminate a strange face in dirt and grime on one of the walls.
[Exits : [G]o [O]nstage ]
[Players : Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet), Melissa, Hawksblood, and Football Player(#3259CXZ) (Puppet) ]
THUNK! A sudden loud sound echoes across the stage. A trapdoor has fallen, no longer propped open. And then all rests silently once more
Football Player jumps, bumping into someone who had followed him down. "Uh, sorry," he mumbles. "I.. uh, lost my footing." Yeah, likely excuse.
Quark glances up to the sound of the trap door shutting, starting to become impressed by the creepy effects. Then again, worse come to worse, he can always teleport out of here if something is amiss. He decides to wait, forcing back his grin so it doesn't appear he's trying to spoil the party.
Blonde Girl /screams/, a high-pitched squeal that only a girl of the ditzy persuasion could truly manage. From the satisfied look on her boyfriend's face as she attaches herself to his side, this is exactly what he had in mind.
Norenvalei holds the leash tight, and jumps at the noise. She backs away, shivering and stuttering, more than a little afraid. The temperature immediately around her starts falling quickly towards freezing as she falls over her own two feet trying to get back.
Forge clamps his hands over his ears. Okay, that's waaay more irritating than strobe lights. "Oh, come on, as if that wasn't completely and totally predictable," he mutters, although his insides are quivering a bit, but that has nothing to do with ... He glances hard at Noren. "Cut that out," he hisses urgently.
Given the place, again there's that rational thought threading through her head, reminding her that this is all just a prank. But still that training in both Danger Room and instincts provides her with a sense of disquiet. Premiering smile primes her mouth as she's guided by her feral brother, letting him lead. After all, what's better than a big brother how sets things on fire? Ha. Melissa gives a sigh and follows, if a little reluctantly, wary of going down the trapdoor area. Heels were not meant for such activities. "If I fall, someone better catch my sorry butt." Snorting her warning beneath her breath as she finds her footing and moves carefully down. Thunk? Over head after more bodies slide down, the dark door is given a frowning glance up. Oh dear. Poor Cainn's ears promise to be rubbed raw. His ears and neck rubbed by Melissa. Oh yes. Rub rub scritchie scritchie. The Blonde's shattering scream further aggitates her. RUB RUB! .. Gah. Poor Cainn's head will be bald...you jus' watch n' see. c_c
Cheek cheek! A strange squeaking sound seems to erupt, from all directions, the terrified squeaking of mice that lasts for a long moment before leaving as quickly as it came. There is no sign of them, only the faint shifting of cobwebs, like a slight breeze blowing through... The temperature suddenly drops slightly.'
Sidda yips, one of those annoying girlie sounds that she hates oh-so-much. Not as pain invoking as the blond girl's screech, however. She reaches out and grabs Forge, her dogs pretending to be all tough and growling.
Giggling Redhead lets out her own shriek. "EW! What's that SOUND?!" She hates rodents. And anything that sounds like rodents. Even cute widdle rubber duckies. She wrings her hands, looking around nervously... Dark, creepy... Yeah, that's not what she likes. She looks up at the closed trapdoor, tears beginning to glimmer in her eyes. "I want out, I want out..."
Hawksblood fluffs up a bit, rather like a cat, hackles bristling as he pauses on the steps a moment, eyes owlish and teeth half-bared, before slowly continuing on, with Melissa's hand upon his back. "<>" He endures her cranial assault, though, with patient affection, although a vaguely uninterested glance is spared back towards the sudden rush of cold emitting from that shady girl in the back. Oh look, an uncontrolled mutant. Ooh, but even more interesting...mice! Yay.
While previously dark in the room, there is a slow increase in light. A glance upwards would reveal the source -- a trapdoor, rising slowly, seemingly of its own volition. It rises up to be perpendicular with the stage, the dim stage light offering better illumination of the dusty space under the stage. The door remains half-open, before almost violently being thrown fully open, hitting the stage with a 'thunk'.
Forge seizes up, Sidda's fingers kinda making stretches in his stylish (coughSalvationArmycough) black shirt, more unnerved than he wants to admit. It's a freaking sound effect, Forge. "Just a CD, you know, they hand those out around Halloween just for this purpose." It'd help if it wasn't so dark, of course, and if Noren would stop emitting! ... And then the trapdoor opens and Forge smiles triumphantly. "See! All good!"
Norenvalei spots the opening and dashes through it with all the speed of a squirrel on crack.
Quark shrugs, and realizes that it's all good. Guess it's time to head back up? He follows Noren, although nowhere near as excited to get out of the room...
Stage - Brickyard Theater - Emerson University(#1416RC)
The stage is set for a mischievous fairytale, and every detail seems to build on the next. Trees tower upward, three-dimensional in appearance until you get close enough to touch the papier-mache bark and the painted paper of the drooping, draping leaves. Vines trail from limb to limb, creating a wild paradise, neatly contained. The stage itself seems to be sprinkled with pixie-dust that sparkles, enchanted, in the soft shades of rose and amber that light the set. The trees thicken toward the back of the stage, leading off into the curtains that hang in the wings. In the center of the stage, a trap door is propped open.
[Exits : [Tr]apdoor, [O]ffstage [R]ight, and [M]ain [A]rea ]
[Players : Norenvalei ]
A girl's high-pitched, good-natured giggles ring through the air abruptly. Footsteps hurry toward the sound, which ends just as suddenly, leaving the air in still silence.
Giggling Redhead screams. Loudly. The second the trapdoor opened, she was off like a shot, and now she's running in giggling, squeaking terror offstage. "Eeeeeeee!" Poor girl.
Forge is following Sidda a little sheepishly, trying to keep a basic hand on her shoulder for compensation. "Hey, I was scared, too ... just trying to play otherwise, you know? Give me a moment to play a role besides the wuss!" Aah, fresh air. And there's all this giggling and screaming, but that's okay!
Blonde Girl is caught up in the terror - really - and shoots toward the offstage - right, that is - after the redhead.
Quark frowns, unsure if this is also part of the goofing off or not. Shrugging, he decides to look into it and heads off to the side of the stage to see what's going on.
Offstage Right - Emerson University(#1919RC)
The stage-right wing is crowded with a complicated-looking system of pulleys and ropes that are doubtless used to fly scenery in and out of the stage. A rickety steel ladder rises upward toward the catwalks, and long, black curtains crowd toward the stage to block all sight of technical activities from the audience. In some places, the curtains seem almost claustrophobic, especially in those areas where they compete with tables, piled with props and costume changes.
[Exits : [G]o [O]nstage, [D]ressing [R]oom, and [B]ackstage ]
[Players : Goth Chick(#3261CXZ) (Puppet), and Giggling Redhead(#3258CXZ) (Puppet) ]