marothius | (no subject)

Scrawled on a black invitation in beautiful, gold coloured handwritten calligraphy is the date and time of the party, as well as one of Vena's addresses. Beautiful waterfront property just outside of a nearby city. The time on the invitation is listed as 8PM. Vena's attempt to accommodate any guests who may not be able to face the sun. Vena has a preference for nighttime anyway.

The home, itself, sits on a large piece of land with a well manicured and expansive garden on one side, and the harbour on the other. Inside, the home is very open, with plenty of space for party goers to lounge, and plenty of rooms for them to disappear into. There are only two bedrooms closed to the guests: Vena's own and one that that he keeps for his partner. There are floor to ceiling windows that look out over the large deck (where there's ample seating and a fire pit that will have a fire burning all night) and the harbour.

The decor and furnishings, themselves, are all dark shades (and not all white like in the picture!) of varying colours. Greys, blues, reds, and black, of course, with gold and silver accents and the occasional white showing up in a variety of places to break up the darkness.

There is a vast array of finger foods and an open bar, as well as a chef in the kitchen should anyone desire something a little more substantial to eat. He may even have a few humans set aside who are willing to be fed on, should that be what someone wants. Well, more like they're willing to do anything Vena asks, but to Vena, it's all the same thing.

As for the actual guests, an invite has gone out to anyone who isn't human, from demons to mythical creatures and everything in between. That isn't to say that humans aren't permitted (as more than snacks and servants) because they are, but as a +1. They must have something not human to accompany them, who will then be responsible for them for the evening. Don't let you humans get out of hand and ruin it for everyone else. The dress code is semi-formal and the colours are black and gold, just like the invitation.

Vena, himself, is dressed a little more than usual, with a few pieces of gold jewelry and some simple black around his eyes to fit his chosen colour scheme.

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In all of his time in his current situation, he's come across exactly one downside to only looking human but not actually being human: Most of their vices don't really do for him what he wants them to do. Not without some considerable effort. Considering the guest list for this particular party, he has to assume that the bar and the alcohol that it's stocked with are for little more than show. A party just doesn't seem like a party without alcohol and the like. Plus the fact that it's all expensive alcohol doesn't go unnoticed. As if the house and everything else aren't already a show of the host's wealth. Of course there's also probably a small handful of attendees who have a lower tolerance for these sorts of things.

Not that any of that stops Three from already being three bottles deep into the incubus' pricey liquor.

Three has become a familiar face at parties, both human and monster alike. If he hears even a whisper on the air of such a thing, he'll show up, invited or not. If he's going to self-destruct, he's going to have fun doing it, at least. This one, though, he actually received an invitation for. An invitation with a name he no longer associates with because it's a name that doesn't belong to him, alone. It almost became the one party he turned down. Almost.

He showed up to the party wearing a very eye-catching shiny gold tailored suit with a leopard print on both of the jacket and pants. Beneath that is a simple black dress shirt with almost half the buttons undone. One might guess that he's looking for attention and given that quiet, down time gives him a chance to dwell on his solitude, one might just be right. Snatching the bottle out of the bartender's hand instead of allowing him to pour another drink, Three starts to drift from conversation to conversation, group to group, though he'll move on quickly if it doesn't seem like they'll give him what he's looking for. Fun, attention, distractions, a pain and suffering unlike that which he usually feels.

And if he can't find a conversation or group of people he likes, he'll pick a relatively clear spot to dance, and try to get those around him to dance along with him. It's a party!

Tres, on the other hand, has never before been seen at a party. Not once ever. Even if someone he knew well was attending, he'd still feel awkward and lonely (lonelier). He doesn't socialize easily. Which is fine since he's been traveling a lot. It's only recently that he even came to this particular city, so how anyone got his (old) name and current address for an invitation is beyond him.

Why not go? Why not try to meet people? If it's too much, he can always leave, right?

Dark colors aren't really his thing, but the invitation specified, so Tres shows up all in black, save for the vaguely metallic gold and black patterned shirt. At least it adds a little fun and whimsy to the attire. He spends a lot of the evening walking around the perimeter of the party, not really approaching anyone first. The garden is a nice respite from the sounds of others. Eventually he finds himself at the bar for a drink when what he sees makes it feel like the world fell out from under his feet.

Is that...? Dancing??

The fresh waves of nervous energy has nothing to do with introversion. He moves through the party to get to Three, positioning himself precisely in his line of sight. "Hello again."

Really? He couldn't think of anything better to say??? Please let the ground open up and swallow him right now!

Three is dancing and jumping up and down to music that isn't really made for dancing. It's the sort of music that's meant to play just beneath conversations, not the sort that's really meant to be acknowledged. That's probably why he spends much of the time dancing alone. A few people sort of wander into his orbit and get swept up a little in the dancing before moving on to something a little more interesting.

Only one person walks directly toward him. Purposeful. Seeing that face (his face. But not his face. Not just his face) and having it speak to him in a voice that isn't quite his (there are differences. To everyone else, they may sound the same, but there are differences) makes it feel like he just got punched in the stomach. It knocks all the wind out of him and makes it hard for him to catch his breath again. His eyes widen and he just stares at Tres. He thought Tres was just... gone. There was just a hole in his life where Tres used to be. And now, just like that, here he is, just standing in front of Three. Even though he can feel Tres again, this still feels like one of those 'too good to be true' moments.

Three barks out a rather sardonic laugh before fixing Tres with a look of utter disbelief. "'Hello again'? That's it?"

"Fancy meeting you here?"

Is that better? It's better than 'Weird how I can't feel you even though you're not even a meter away.' He had no idea Three was so close, let alone in the same place at the same time! It's jarring to be so close and still unable to sense him. It's a crowded party, Tres might not have even encountered him at all!

That's not much better.

"Fancier meeting you here. I belong here. What's your excuse?" This is the sort of situation that he's always been way more comfortable in that either of the other two. Being surrounded by people both familiar and strange. Making new friends where there were none before. This is the sort of environment where he thrives. This is also his own, personal self-destructive path. One where he never imagined encountering Tres. Truthfully, he never imagined encountering Tres again. Hoped to, yes, but he'd stopped thinking it would ever happen. It hurt less that way.

'Where have you been' is sitting on the tip of his tongue but he can't make himself ask it just yet. He can't even justify why, exactly. It's just... hard. It's one of those questions he shouldn't ever have to ask. They always knew where the other was, but now, everything's different.

Instead, Three looks down at the bottle he's still clutching, gripped so tightly in his hand that he can feel the glass straining under the pressure. He thrusts the bottle out toward Tres. "Drink?" A simpler question.

The loneliness got to him. Should he say it out loud? Surely Three understands... He's lonely, too, right? That's why he's here, trying to party in a way this party is meant for. Death-gripping that bottle so tight it might break (ergo Tres is more than happy to take it when it's offered). Does he drink from it? No. But he'll keep it safe from harm and maybe set it down somewhere convenient a little later.

"You feel it, too, right?" That nothingness. That they can't sense each other even standing this close. It's... beyond weird. Weird doesn't begin to describe. Unnatural.