Plot - The Christmas Party [closed]

[purity_mods]

Who: Prima, BLU Spy, Alphonse Elric, Ritsuka Aoyagi, Zidane Tribal & Others...
When: December 21st, around 6pm.
Where: The Governmental District
What: A Christmas party is held for a select number of Awakened. If you’ve ever wanted a chance to engross yourself in Boston’s upperclass, now’s your opportunity!
Warnings: Violence. All participating

Comments

[first_forged]

Prima had been surprised to get an invite and after some fumbling, had managed to make out what it said. Of course,. this was with the help of a kind passerby, once he's explained he'd left his glasses at home. A small lie but he didn't feel guilty.

He'd shown up in what he'd awakened in, hair pulled back into a high pony tail. But rather than engaging the guests, he'd taken to studying the lights, trying to get as much detail in as possible. He knew his powers were coming back. A small test where he was staying was proof enough of that.

Turning his attention away from the twinkle lights, he sipped at his punch, watching the others, noting the splendor of the room, an unreadable look passing his face. While it would never compare to the splendor of Cybertron before Megatronus betrayal shattered the ranks, he could appreciate the beauty of it. It was almost like home. Almost.

He sipped his punch, chasing the memories away, It would do not good to dwell on them now.

[purity_npcs]

"Enjoying the party?" A young woman with red hair and a hesitant smile inquiries, making her way to where Prima stands. Like him, she's dressed casually, but the way she carries herself suggests an air of inherent dignity.

[first_forged]

"Indeed I am, miss." Prima notes that inherent dignity and gives a reassuring smile. Tonight his eyes are literally quicksilver in the lights. He has that air as well, the inherent pride of nobility but tempered with a warriors grace and humility. "The decor reminds me of my.. dream before I awakened. Though the food could use some work. Yourself?"

[purity_npcs]

A thoughtful nod follows. "Just dandy. Ignore the food and it's not a bad party at all."

She tilts her head to the side, looking over her shoulder. Should Prima pay attention, he'll notice a rather arcane looking sigil tattooed on the back of her neck.

"Maybe we can direct our complaints to the management if they ever show up."

[kimitoaruiteku]

Al could not believe that he'd gotten an invitation here, and that just he did out of the people he lived with. Finally, he got to do something on his own. He was a bit disappointed he couldn't ever sign up for the lottery, but this more than made up for it. It was amazing. The food tasted kind of funny but he could do without that. Staying away from the alcohol like a good underage person, Al slowly turned around in a circle, taking in everything there was to see with a huge happy smile on his face. This Christmas thing was awesome. He made a mental note to be as well behaved as possible could. It was probably better that he got invited without Ed... Ed didn't really know how to behave.

[tooyoung]

There's apprehension about it at first- deciding to approach Al. That wide smile plastered on his face puts him off. And, the fact that Ritsuka tended to clash with most kids, but that's just it: Al was, so far, the only other kid about his size Ritsuka could pick out in the room.

Thus, after much deliberation, he wanders off. No smile. No chipper looks. No hand out. Just a, "hey," announcing his presence.

[kimitoaruiteku]

Al turned and smiled at the person. It wasn't someone that he recognized. "Hello!" he replied cheerfully.

[tooyoung]

"Hello."

It's hard not to stare at the top of Al's head, his hair, lacking a pair of ears of its own. Though, this is something Ritsuka's growing used to with the kids at school. So, it's not really a shock anymore, just- it's just strange.

"Did your brother come also?" He doesn't know what else to say, honestly, but he recognized Al's voice from earlier in the week. It's the first thing to come to mind.

[tooyoung]

It's a strange way to spend a birthday. ( Though, honestly, he hasn't even cnsidered that he's only just turned thirteen today. ) Especially, for a child who probably considers fancy parties a waste of time. Despite this he- previously -had opted to go, but even introversion is a core element to a person that can't be completely shaken

[purity_npcs]

From behind Ritsuka, someone laughs mildly. An older man watches him from his place against the wall, cigarette in hand.

"Little too young for that, aren't you?" He doesn't sound very concerned or even angry, however. "Although I can't say I blame you. They really should have chaperones watching this place if there are kids around."

[tooyoung]

Those ears drop first, and then, looking back, with apparent annoyance: "I didn't know it was wine, all right?"

But, he says all this at the man's neck. He's trying to see if he can spot a mark similar to the same one he has.

[purity_npcs]

"It doesn't look like chocolate milk either, if that's what you were wondering."

Ritsuka doesn't have to look very hard. When the man notices the younger one staring, he coolly remarks, "It's a benefit party for Awakened. I wouldn't be here if I didn't qualify for it."

[purity_npcs]

A little girl of approximately ten runs past Zidane, stopping only when she notices the long tail swishing behind him. A large, silly grin spreads across her face and, without warning, she grabs it by the end and pulls it.

PARTY'S END

[purity_npcs]

The hours seem to run together. If you've been drinking, they'll fly by in a blur; take one look at the ornate but old grandfather clock in the corner of the ballroom and you'll discover that it's very late indeed. One would think that the crowd of partygoers would begin to disperse, but that isn't the case at all. Rather, many of your fellow Awakened have begun to congregate in front of the now closed double-doors, chattering indistinctly amongst themselves unless you care to join in on their discussion.

"Who closed the doors?"

"Forget that. Why the hell are they locked?!"

True enough, trying to pry the doors open will be fruitless, and no amount of pulling will fix that. Forcing your weight against them won't work either; it's almost as if some force is holding them shut from the outside. When one Mutant notes this, another suggests someone get a chair or piece of furniture and try to bust them down.

When an earsplitting CRACK resonates throughout the ballroom and the door begins to splinter in its frames, that ceases to be a

Am I doing this right? /o\

[fyi_iamaspy]

Spy's chattering (and admittedly, slightly buzzed despite forcing some stale saltines down his mouth) when someone notices that the doors are locked. He doesn't make an offer to help. It's not really in his nature to try to save the majority if his own skin is on the line, even though he's sure he could pick the door open if he really tried. There's a brief flicker of want to go save that one kid and pull him away from doors that are more than likely locked for a reason, but he quashes it as soon as the want rises

that's fine!

[purity_npcs]

Screams and shouts fill the room. There's another crash as something - or someone- crashes right into the grandfather clock; it falls in a spectacular heap of gears and clockwork, echoing throughout the ballroom with a sound loud enough to rival that of the periodic gunfire.

It's impossible to hear amidst the chaos, but there's a metal click and a hollow thwump as one of the men detonates a grenade. It rolls across the floor right in front of the table Spy is hiding under, and then hisses as a cloud of thick white smoke pours out from the top of the metal canister.

[fyi_iamaspy]

For a split second, Spy's shoulders seize up as the canister clacks towards him with a hiss that means gas is being released. Memories of his childhood of men ravaged by mustard gas flashed through his mind; his reaction to scramble backward, untucking his tie to press to his mouth with his free hand is almost instinctual, even though the color of the gas indicates it isn't mustard.

Even though it's not the kind of gas to sear his lungs and eyes, it could still be the knockout kind- Spy crawls to the end of the table, lifting the tablecloth just enough to slide underneath and out. He can't see a damned thing, and his cloak is quickly dwindling away, but he's going to get out of this, preferably alive. So, still invisible and pistol drawn, Spy moves towards the wall and away from the general noises and gunshots.