meadowlarklogs | one night of magic rush

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one night of magic rush

WHO: Cain, Prompto, Hideki Maeda, and you!
WHERE: The popular Asylum club.
WHEN: Night of October 26.
WHAT: Cain and Prompto's joint birthdays!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Beyond drinking/smoking, general wild party behavior, and fake friendship, there shouldn't be much. Will update as needed.

[Set deep in the downtown of New Amsterdam's entertainment district is Asylum, arguably the most popular club in the city. The exterior is cool steel beams and tasteful futuristic architecture with a long line down the corridor, suited bouncers posed at the entrance all armed with a virtual guest list. Its interior is fashioned with bright, colorful lighting dynamic to the music of the infamous DJ Semicolon, high ceilings and acoustic sounds to lend that feeling of a constant full-body hum. Any partygoers on the guest list for this event will be funneled toward the VIP section. They will have received an invitation a few days prior via their Cooltalk profiles. Jason is specifically blacklisted, sorry buddy.

DANCE YOUR HEART OUT. Nearly impossible to book without deep pockets or wide-reaching connections, Semicolon is at the top of their game mixing popular contemporary hits with Whitney Houston's classics. From song to song, Semicolon provides a unique and talented contrast of the slow to the energetic, so no matter your dancing style, you'll find something to move you on the dance floor.

DROWN YOUR... LIVER. Courtesy of the party's host, Hideki Maeda, the VIP section's private bar will provide an ever-flowing river of your favorite expensive high-proof alcohol. Pick your poison.

CHILL OUT. Tired on your feet from too much dancing, or just need a break from the packed atmosphere? There are plenty of comfortable areas where you can relax and take it easy until you're ready to get back out there. The lights around this area cycle through different colors in reflection of Semicolon's performance set, so a slower song might lend toward romantic shades of red while a faster-paced song is brighter blue.

SMOKE, EAT & MINGLE. Asylum will be serving real, fresh meat at this party, so enjoy that luxury while it lasts. There is also an outdoor area with a beautiful view over the city itself if you want to take your vape pen out there for a smoke, just get some air, or see who's around for a chat.]

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Are you now?

[That's amusing on its own, though perhaps not entirely surprising. From what she knew of hard travel, cheese kept better. And, truth be told, she'd spent several weeks eating nothing but horse jerky before. There was also that time she ate raw heart...so she's learned not to be picky.

Practically on cue, she watches another plate of meat come out and swirls the wine in her glass with a thoughtful smile. Kind that he would offer -- but knowing of its rarity, a piece of her feels better allowing it to go to others.]

Awful kind of them. [She turns back to smile at him more directly when he makes his offer.] And you. I should be most appreciative if you would.

[She wasn't overly hungry, but better to accept the offer and have it than to have to go get it later. Maybe she could eat it with these waffles.]

[jon grins, stands up. he makes as if to pat her arm as he might sansa's, but he stops himself, clenches his hand. this is not the time or place to be glowing.]

The cheese, or the fruit?

[or both, probably. maybe some nuts...he hasn't seen any almonds here, but this would be his best chance at finding some.]

[Good call Jon. There's a moment where she locks up in her shoulders as he reaches -- not because she thinks that he means to strike her, but because she was wary of the potential for contact. She relaxes almost instantly, and her smile does not ebb any. She's gotten quite practiced at holding it, even when she isn't exactly happy with events unfolding in front of her.

It wasn't any fault of his, of course. It was just. A thing. The desire to avoid vulnerability, and familiarity.]

Both, if you might be so kind.

[his smile twists to one side when she proves him right. he nods.]

I'll just be a moment, Your Grace.

[he ducks out and it takes him several moments to track down a satisfactory cheese plate, sneaking a few slices on the way. he returns with several different kinds (and colors) of hard cheeses, some brie, a generous schmear each of chevre and a triple creme, a handful of hazelnuts and shelled chestnuts, and a lot of fruits that have no business being in season at the same time--strawberries, blueberries, apple slices, grapes, tiny grapes, fresh figs. There's a small pool of honey and a jam that will turn out to be quince, but he thinks is probably marmalade. he slides it in front of dany and sits back down next to her.]

Don't ask me what the cheeses are called. Everything here has its own name. I don't know how anyone could be expected to remember them all.

[When he returns, he is earned the pleasure of seeing her blink owlishly in surprise. She was obviously not expecting quite so much food. There is a moment where a half-embarrassed (but flattered) scoff escapes her.]

I may be blood of the dragon, but I hardly have the stomach of one. I trust you will assist me with all of this.

[Pointedly, she reaches for a grape and pops it in her mouth with one eyebrow raised. It wasn't exactly a command, but she is obviously not expecting to be refused.]

[jon ducks his head, laughing at her queenly manner in the face of too much cheese. perhaps he'd been a bit overzealous in procuring enough samples.]

I didn't know which kinds you wanted. I don't even know what kinds these are.

[he takes a slice of a hard yellow cheese and tries a small bite.]

It's good.

[he takes another bite.]

Do dragons eat more than wolves?

[he's joking around, mostly.]

Well. Now we will know for next time.

[It's a fight not to chuckle, given the context, but it does mean that he manages to keep a slightly suppressed smile on her face. Probably the longest she's smiled since her arrival.

She buries it by picking up a piece of brie, breaking off a piece to try rather than stuffing the whole bit in her mouth.]

I suppose it depends on the dragon. And the wolf.

[She nods her approval, and then picks up a fig to examine. She hadn't been in New Amsterdam long, but so far all of the Displaced had been quite kind to her -- especially in matters regarding food.

She'd never taken it for granted, of course -- taste starvation once, and it never really leaves you. But she finds herself wanting to savor every small bite, in spite of herself.]

[do they know, though. jon barely heard what any of the cheese names were. he picks up a pale slice with a red rind and examines it.]

You must have a better memory for cheeses than I do.

[he tastes his slice, finds it pleasantly smoky, and eats the rest of it.]

I have a hard enough time remembering all the different beers.

[and all the other drinks--beer is the worst, but there's a hundred kinds of whiskey, vodka, gin--and wine, though most specialty grape wines are out of the price range of his clientele.]

It's all to do with brands.

['brands' said somewhat contemptuously.]

[Aside from the beading, she's made herself an otherwise simple white gown, strategically cut out at the sleeves and open backed, held with a small silver wolf's head clasp. It's a purposeful advertising tactic, and she's hoping to catch as many an eye as she can.

The spectacle, the scale of this party is a thing to behold. And though she had never been one to shun this sort of thing, (she'd gladly taken part in many of them in Anatole and Clock) the idea that this much money is being spent so freely when people are in need ...it gnaws at her, and she's slow to return to the conversation at hand, which just now seems to be ...cheese?]

You should make a game of it. Every time you can't name the cheese, you take a swig of a different ale.

[She's happy to see Daenerys among them and seemingly more adjusted, though she can't help but notice how she, too has sought out this spot - just enough away from the thick of things. She's impressed with Prompto's hair handiwork, and she takes no pains to hide her admiration of it.]

[Her eyes flicker toward Sansa, a smile flickering across her lips. She isn't quite comfortable enough to jest about how swift Jon would find himself at the bottom of his cup -- but she makes a go of it anyway.]

Lady Stark makes a sound proposal -- it would make certain you remembered to partake in the variety.

[Her glass is pulled to her lips to disguise the return of her smile, which is only slightly unkind.]

Perhaps Prompto will even be so kind as to escort you to your bedchambers when you are through.

[jon scoffs--he's much too old and practiced to get drunk off beer--but that proposal sounds nauseating. sansa, what. also did dany just call him out for flirting with prompto. he looks between the two of them, feigning a wounded manner.]

You ladies turn my stomach, not my head. Seems a shame to waste food like this making ourselves sick for the sake of a game.

[Truth be told, she's a lightweight and has no business making fun of Jon. (He could drink her under the table, and for all she knows, so could Daenerys,) In Anatole she once got so drunk of sake she puked into a potted plant, but she can't help at laugh at the idea of it - Jon well in his cups, the image of Prompto helping her stumbling brother into his room, and the mock wounded look on his face - it's too much. She's laughing again.]

It's not a waste is it stays down. And it's no time for a turned stomach. There's too much food to be had that isn't crickets. All this meat. Maelys the Monstrous could have seven heads and still manage to stuff them all several times over.

[She wonders at the prospect of taking some ...to go at the eve's end: if there's any left, but says instead (and it's no less an honest thought):]

The both of you look very cool in your party vestments. Have you been ...merry thus far? It's a welcome change, truly.

Indeed.

[She didn't say anything about getting sick. Maybe you should learn to hold your liquor better, Jon.

Of course, its all bravado. Daenerys was hardly trusting enough to allow herself to get #whitegirlwasted in front of a crowd of people. But it's Sansa who pulls her out of her mirth, if only briefly. She'd never spent enough time with Westerosi, let alone anyone who would speak of the Blackfyre Pretenders around her.

No one but Jorah and Ser Barristan. But now was not a time for mourning -- and if she'd learned anything in her brief time here, it was that times were strange.]

And you have my gratitude for your assistance with that, my Lady Stark. My festival garments would be little more than rags were it not for you.

[Credit where credit is due, and all. She still wasn't quite sure about the haircut -- but it was not as if she had much other choice in the matter, lest she look a mockery.]

[IT WAS THE COMBINATION OF CHEESES AND BEERS, ok. it sounded gross. jon hasn't gotten properly drunk since....robert baratheon's visit to winterfell. whoops. he casts sansa a bit of a Look--this is the second time this week she's spoken of maelys the monstruous. he doesn't recall her ever saying two words about the ninepenny kings before. he'd wonder if she'd just gotten to them in her studies, but he knows the answer to that. he raises his eyebrows, grins.]

Aye, we're here to make you look cool. Your party vestments.

[he grins. he's invested enough of his wages into the various materials used in their making. he's determined to promote her clothes, even if it means playing nice with deeply irritating influencers.]

It is a fair feast. Although no one's told me where it is the meat comes from.

[A PRETTY IMPORTANT POINT. he raises his eyebrows again at sansa again, deadpan this time.]

I would've thought you'd be keener on the sweets. Now you're the one who sounds like she has the stomach of a direwolf.

[the wolves would need the meat. he wishes he could save it to give to them. maybe then they'd be able to stay in the city.......]

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one night of magic rush

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