→ ( OPEN - tender lumplings everywhere, life's no fun without a good scare, )

[aberth]

WHO: The Raven Gang & Guests - and if you want to try and crash feel free.
WHERE: De Chima, Virginia.
WHEN:31/10. ( forward dated )
WHAT: Halloween party with the literal children of spooky people.
WARNINGS: Teen drinking, party games, Ronan Lynch's attitude.

[ It's Adam's idea but really, the whole gang has put so much effort into it. Their apartment is decorated in a mishmash of differing styles - upon entrance there's an actual fuck-off spooky forest courtesy of Adam's plant power and Blue's amplifying, full of vines and dead looking trees and awful looking shrubbery, there's Gansey and Ronan's pumpkins ( and the terrible Parrish offering of one that looks like it's grimacing ), there's candle light and strung fairy lights and cobwebs and a lot of glitter. It looks like it should, like five dumb teenagers have wanted to forget a lot of things and have a party.

The food isn't wholesome. There's enough candy corn to give an army diabetes and enough toffee apple monstrosities for an orchard as well as the usual chips and dip and pizza combination. There's punch - but drink it only if you dare, Lynch has been at it - and alcohol, as well as soda for the people who can't hold their ginger ale.

The entertainment is as it should be. Never Have I Ever being the main attraction for hormonal losers, with music and dancing and odd costumes. It's probably a mess, but it's a nice mess. So have at it. ]

( ooc: go ahead and top-level, everyone! it's a tagging frenzy, let's go. )

Comments

edgar | open.

[lifeatsteak]

a. MAKING FRIENDS

[Edgar is aware this is a dress up thing, but he neglected to dress up because he looks odd enough to begin with. He'd much rather judge other people for being weirdos for once. So expect to be stopped by a moderately clean man with messy hair in a rumpled button-down shirt:]

What're you, then?

[He only sounds slightly judgmental.]

b. INFLUENCING PEOPLE

[Edgar knows very little of animals. For the last month, he's interacted with the only animals he's ever met in his life, and they're mostly the cuddly sort who don't mind being touched. They generally don't have sharp beaks and talons.]

[Edgar is also from a place where wounds are common, and so when he touches the bird when the bird doesn't want to be touched, he doesn't think to leave for some more sterile environment. Edgar finds a quiet corner to rip up some of his shirt (it's actually his shirt, for once; he isn't borrowing it from anyone else) and tie it around his bleeding hand.]

[Have fun with that.]

c. FALLING ASLEEP

[Edgar's alcohol tolerance isn't exactly fantastic. There are a lot of reasons why; you can probably guess them.]

[The end result is him asleep in a tree in the front yard. He likes climbing and it seemed like a great idea and then he got really tired and decided to rest his eyes, and now the party's kind of over. Please collect your winnings at the front door.]

( a. )

[cupio]

[ She hasn't spoken to Edgar yet. She'd meant to. She'd even visited Grey and Abigail's but he'd been out. But when she hears the judgemental voice she turns and raises an eyebrow. ]

Zombie school girl. [ Duh. ] What are you?

[ God, if only Grey had told her his friend couldn't dress himself either she would have brought her eyeliner and done them both up in advance. ]

[lifeatsteak]

[What is eyeliner, does it taste good.]

[Edgar narrows his eyes, trying to remember what a zombie (or a schoolgirl) is. They sound somewhat familiar, but he's not sure, and the combination seems especially nonsensical.]

[Whatever, he goes with it.] Didn't dress up. That was optional, right?

[cupio]

[ No, but it will make you hot as fuck. ]

Uh, I guess so? I mean it's not like the guy hosting it seems like he cares. [ She doesn't think he does anyway. ] I saw you with Abigail earlier. Are you Edgar? [ Because hello new squad member, she should totally be your friend. ]

[lifeatsteak]

[Someone needs to explain to him the slang behind 'hot' soon before he fucks up and makes an accidental dad joke over it.]

Nice of him. [That could be more sardonic.]

[Oh, thank whatever powers you thank, someone who already knows his name. He could fucking cry. Edgar perks up a little, brows raising.] Yeah, that's me. You know Abigail? [Somehow, he'd had trouble picturing her as an outside person, which is ridiculous, really, since who isn't an outside person, here? You know, outside.]

[cupio]

I do. And Grey.

[ She's pleased to put a face to the name, actually. Because inevitably she'll be pulling him into her little world like she did with the others. ] I'm Clary. I meant to come and say hi earlier, actually. But then my boss hit me with a load of work and I never got around to it.

How are you settling in?

[lifeatsteak]

Oh, right. [He still has no idea who she is, but anyone in Grey's good books is in Edgar's good books, automatically.]

Settling in well enough. Never been to something like this. Show me around? [Aaaand there's the flirting.]

(b)

[instars]

[She sees him when he arrives, and she watches him from time to time, but this is the first time she's approached him. He's patching himself up after an encounter with a bird, and she sympathizes with that.

Birds aren't her friend, either.

She sits next to him, offers him her hand.]

You're going to get an infection if you don't wash it.

[lifeatsteak]

[Edgar doesn't look up when Saya approaches. He recognizes her, and so she's not a danger. The entire piggyback ride experience taught him two things about Saya: she is strange, and she doesn't want to physically hurt him. Emotionally, maybe, but Edgar can take that.]

[He thinks he can, anyway.]

[Edgar scoffs.] Won't. Always been lucky that way.

[instars]

Have you ever been scratched by a bird before?

Talons are filthy things.

[She doesn't keep the offer to help him out very long, though. Now she's just sitting next to him, her knees bent a little oddly, like she's not quite a fully put together doll.]

But ultimately, its your arm.

[lifeatsteak]

[Edgar's mental picture of dolls look more like bits of string wrapped in rags. Every oddity of her feature and presentation gets chalked up to her being a Front Sectioner. He remembers the vacant stare of the woman in yellow as she touched the blood on her forehead, inspecting the stain before bringing her fingers to her lips.]

[That is who Saya reminds Edgar of. He knows she won't hurt him, but she'd probably just poking to see how he'll react. It's something a smarter man would shy away from. But Edgar, full of young fire, wants to prove that he can get hit and give nothing back.]

Just my hand. Had worse from humans. You think birds' feet are dirty, try the underside of boots. [That is, after all, humanity's future.] Touched you care, though. [He gives her a sly look. He knows she doesn't care.]

[instars]

[She curls her own fingers up into loose fists, like she's hiding them.]

I would lose my leg before I lost my hands. Or my eyesight. Or my ears.

Deformity would be fine, as long as I had my hands.

[Although she likes the way she looks, she's vain about clothes and makeup, it's the truth. Her hands are the most important part of her. She could lose her sight and she would manage to build things by feel.]

I repay debts, Edgar.

[lifeatsteak]

You're a bloody strange one. [Saying it out loud makes Edgar realize, ah, that's why he's comforted by her presence. With her around, he's no longer the strangest person in the room. She's just better at faking it.]

[He can live with that.] Don't fuck with the bird on my account. And you're not debted to me, did I say that? Thought I said it. [Maybe it was the fumes.]

b

[kinesia]

[ Grey, on the other hand, is subscribing to costumed mania this time around. That mostly means his shirt and jeans are distressed (he had been quite distressed on realising the meaning of that word, in the store) and his gloves have been improved by the power of April's raccoons to resemble werewolf hands.

Also, he has fangs. They will be in for most of the night, unless he eats, and he'll probably forget about them even then. This makes the frown he wears on seeing a bleeding Edgar look all the more comical.

He goes up, crouches naturally beside his friend, and pointedly taps the injured hand.

He does not need words. His expression is enough to query how Edgar got that cut and who he's been fighting with. His eyebrows lift, pointedly. Does he need to take care of someone for you? Just point him in their direction, thank you. ]

[lifeatsteak]

[Maybe, Edgar thinks, he'll dress himself up next time. That's a year away, though; does he have any right to plan that far in advance?]

[He thinks he does. The thought quirks a little smile on his lips when Grey sits down next to him.] Nothing serious. Little birdie, is all. [Birds are not just like dogs. You learn something new every day.]

[Well, Edgar does, anyway.]

[kinesia]

[ Little birdie. Little?

Grey pauses, and then points across the room to Henrietta. Is that what you mean, because she's a lot of things, but little is not exactly one of them.

He has actually met that bird, though, and the experience makes him arch an eyebrow at Edgar. She'd not seemed violent to him. ]

what did you do ?

[ Not to be accusatory, or anything. But just in case. ]

[lifeatsteak]

[Edgar totally did something, he can acknowledge that. He raises his unwounded hand to point at a raven perched on the banister at the other end of the room.]

No, that one. Poked her or whatever. [He tried to pick her up, because clearly all animals are alike, ie, like dogs? Apparently not.]

[kinesia]

[ Grey looks over to see a much smaller and less monstrous bird. Apparently she’s less friendly, though. He’ll bear that in mind; he could easily have made the same mistake. He points at the bandage. ]

do you want me to look ?

[ It’s not that he’s fussy about it, or anything. It’s just, he’d have done it for Gilliam. ]

[lifeatsteak]

[At home, no one would have done it for him. He's not sure what to do with the offer, so he refuses it out of hand.] Nah, I got it. Had far worse, you know. [They both have, really.]

[Still, something he was told earlier sticks out.] D'you think it'll get infected...? [Edgar is pretty sure if he lived without infection this long, he's veritably immune, but this world is strange and new with such weird fucking shit in it.]

A

[timeshares]

[Wearing a dashing swashbuckler's ensemble, he doffs his plumed hat, spreading it wide in a showy gesture.]

A paragon of romanticized ideals of an older eras and chivalry. Or a swordsman.

I couldn't read the label.

[Definitely worthy of all that judgement.]

[lifeatsteak]

[Edgar has literally no idea what any of that means, and he's had enough punch that he thinks it'd be too much effort to pretend otherwise. He gives the other boy a highly skeptical look.]

Dunno what you meant by any of that, mate.

[timeshares]

Eh. It's nothing worth paying attention to.

[He answers, easily enough.]

Are you going for Late To Work or just Housemate of the Party Organizer?

[lifeatsteak]

All... right, then. [Is he being made fun of? Edgar narrows his eyes.] No, didn't dress up, me. Couldn't choose. [He'd say he doesn't know how, but he doesn't want to make his ignorance even more clear.]

[timeshares]

[Normally... he actually WOULD be a bit more of a jackass here. But damn if it isn't his first Halloween and in a terribly good mood for it.]

... You know. It's not too late. I mean, depends on what you've got but decent looking guy, wouldn't be too hard to cook up a closet costume.

[lifeatsteak]

Decent? [Now, this is a role Edgar can play. He puts his hands on his hips.] Better'n decent, mate. Just wasn't feeling it.

[Confidence momentarily regained, he lies without thinking. It's easy, and slips out of him like it's nothing.]

Nah, honest, never done this... thing before. [He waves his hand at the party in general.] Don't have 'em where I'm from.