october: free for all | ❝ lurking in the shadows ❞

[quickfingers]

WHO: EVERYONE? Anyone. (And Peter.)
WHERE: X-Fam House, Nonah.
WHEN: Friday the 13th!
WHAT: Giant ass Halloween party. On Friday the 13th. YOU ARE ALL INVITED.
WARNINGS: tbd, probably some disaster.
NOTES: So this party's invites are pretty scattered so if you have CR with Peter, you can feel free to assume you've been invited (if he hasn't literally ic inboxed you) or found an invite/ heard about the party from anyone else and are still welcome to have fun! Feel free to plurk me (valleyheart) if you have questions but aside from Peter's top level, it's free game to do what you want!



The Invitations

[If you're a friend of Peter you might've been invited personally, but even so you might find one of these bad boys slipped your way, in your mail or taped to the inside of your next pizza order leading up to the 13th. On the back of the invitation is a hand scrawled address in Nonah, the home of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr - if you're familiar, you're familiar. If not, doesn't matter, 'cause it's Peter's disastrous party about to go down and you're still welcome.]

The House

[The party takes place at the "X-Fam" house in Nonah, which some of you may remember hosted a bbq not too long ago. Yeah, the place where Erik and Charles live - not that this party's sponsored by them in any shape, way or form. In fact it's more of a "while the cat's away, the mice will play" type scenario because asking permission to hold a killer party is not something Peter did.

He was responsible enough however to use caution tape to cross off the doors of the bedrooms in the house, preserving the privacy of his housemates to a degree. The other rooms aren't off limits and neither is the backyard, all of which are decorated festively for the occasion. Cobwebs litter corners and hallways, weaving through the banister rails complete with fake spiders nestled in them. The curtains are somber, as a variety of stick on decals are covering windows and mirrors alike. Decorations sit on mantles and door frames, with each window sill featuring a lit candle or something equally spooky.

The backyard is lit by dim orange lights, featuring seating and open night air for those who wish to get out of a hot, loud house and admire the stars. Just mind the witch legs and don't litter cigarette butts everywhere, alright?

The door's open and a variety of tunes are playing, audible from the street.]

The Party

[So you were invited (or not,) and you found your way to the right house. The lights are dimmed and the music's loud, so come in and get a drink from the fridge or the creative yet nerdy 'keg'. Peter's no Martha Stewart nor is Wanda really in a mood to make a lot of cute treats so you'll have to put up with standard party fair: potato chips, pretzels, a huge stack of pizzas and a few large bowls of candy corn. That shit is everywhere, there's no escaping it. You need ice? Just don't choke on the critters.

Rooms not cordoned off are yours to wander and get wasted in, same with the stretch of grass in the back yard. Wander with your goblets of definitely spiked punch and a handful of candy corn. Because if you're not eating it then you suck.

At some point there will be a cake pulled out because Peter's drowning in sisters and Lorna's birthday is this month. Clearly the thing to do is to (monster) mash it in to the Halloween celebrations with a creepy cake. Say a spooky happy birthday to the girl with green hair when you get the chance.]

Comments

[divaricate]

Charles is bbbbbbbbasically second dad now, you know. But yeah, yeah, if if I'm not too busy making out with someone, I'll say something somehow to you I guess.

[quickfingers]

Yeah, the day I call him step-dad is the day I die. [That's too real and too weird.]

But thanks, you're a peach.

[divaricate]

Even if they get married? [now she's just trying to make him think about everything. :| ]

Anyway yeah I'm super charming, I know; I'm sugar and spice and everything nice. It's awesome. [sarcasm — probably.]

[quickfingers]

[Peter makes a disgruntled noise because ofc Wanda, any Wanda, knows how to push his buttons.]

It's weird enough calling Erik dad, I really don't need a second one in the equation yet.

LMAO THAT ICON

[divaricate]

Are you s-uuuuuuuurrreeee you don't? [She draws out the last few letters of the word "sure", just to further push buttons. Wanda's an asshole: news @ 11.]

c:

[quickfingers]

Doooooooon't do that vooooooiiice. [The rumbling of a whiny twin fight waiting to happen, he gently puts his palm to her face to push her lightly away.

He half expects to be swatted at, as other-Wanda used to in such situations.] It's annoooooooooyiiiiing.

[divaricate]

Get. Your hand. Offmygoddamnface.

[And then she went from zero to snappy — thanks, mood switcharoo, making her more volatile, being set off even slightly is The Worst Thing — and a scarlet ball of energy encircles her hand and she fires that off in his direction.]

[quickfingers]

[Yeah, this turned around as predicted - but a bit faster than expected because he gets shoved backward with wispy magic that spills his drink. He doesn't topple over on account of semi-on point reflexes, but he snarls at her over spilled beer.]

God, such a witch bitch.

[divaricate]

W-owwww, I've never heard that one before. [that is definite sarcasm.]

[quickfingers]

Good, then you don't mind hearing it a few more times.

[This is how Peter fights back against a sister who can blast him back into walls:] Witch bitch, witch bitch, witch bitch, witch bitch.

[divaricate]

[He might dodge most or all of the incoming effects on account of having amazing reflexes, but that isn't sure as hell isn't going to stop her from continuing to fling scarlet balls of magical energy at him. She even took her hat off; that's how you know shit's getting real.

Real immature, that is.]

[quickfingers]

[Peter, even on a good day, probably wouldn't be able to dodge her powers with any great success - and today he's both tipsy and adverse to moving too quickly in the packed house. But rolling with the blows doesn't have to be giving up in his book because he still has a mouth on him and he'll be damned if he lets her win this by out bratting him.

Goddamnit though, his poor beer. It's going everywhere.] Yeah, keep it coming - that's reaaaal mature of you. Real in character, witch bitch.

[He better not bruise from any of these.] I'd throw my drink on you but it'd be a waste of good beer.

[divaricate]

[She actually levitates herself up several inches.]

I don't mind throwing some on you.

[Some of that beer that's spilled on the floor? Yeah, she's picking that up with her wispy magic and collecting it in a ball — a ball that she flies up towards her, and then back down towards him.]

[quickfingers]

[God, she has to do the thing and levitate, doesn't she.

He sees it coming and dodges some of it, side stepping with his arm up to block most of it from hitting his face - actually losing a bit of cool in the process. It'd be wise to back off knowing how last time went and how she's not going to feel much of a reaction from this (and thus is a little more dangerous than usual,) but Peter's lost his buzz and his patience both.

So he does the thing he tends to do, which is move fast. They're not in a very cramped area and he's really got only one shot at surprise before he knows she can shut his powers down telepathically but he goes for it. Because Maximoffs have no chill.

And alright, he's not as sober as he thought he was a fraction of a second ago - so in his instantaneous haze to get behind her with a step-up boost of a foot against the wall at her back, he knocks over a vase and bumps the table but he does get the air to chuck his drink directly at the back of her neck before resuming his place in front of her with his solo cup turned upside down. The vase topples over, the table makes a noise and the drink? It hurtles at her from behind.

Will she murder him? Maybe, but fuck you witch bitch.] I hope you melt.

[divaricate]

[The splash of beer at her neck makes her make a face that's shocked but also pissed when it hits her. Trails of scarlet energy can be seen travelling up her arms and legs — instead of being wisps outside of her, it's just underneath her skin — making a sound like an electrical current, and once it reaches her shoulders, it makes a pop and fizzles out ... only for more trails to repeat the same process.

Her being more dangerous is correct; just because she can physically feel things -- touch and textures, temperature, beer being splashed on her neck -- the fact that she can't positively emotionally respond when 'feeling' doesn't mean physical touch but emotional, is ... yes, the entire issue here.]

You're going to have to try a lot harder than that for melting.

[That vase that got knocked over is convenient; she pulls those broken shards off the floor, her idea being to aim those at him too. He's already seen it coming, but, another problem with her is that she could have shut him down telepathically by now, probably, but chooses to pursue more violent methods instead. And chooses to pursue them even when she knows she doesn't have the 100% advantage any longer, making them reckless in addition.

Put this on her list of 'things I did then only to be horrified about now' when she can positively emotionally respond to things.]

[quickfingers]

[Peter's head hurts now because he's gone into the next temporary phase of metabolizing his alcohol, the short lived hangover serving to impair him when she makes projectiles out of broken shards. He sees them, he knows what's coming and how to react but realizes in that same instance that this is crossing over the line. And as much as he'd like to retaliate, one of them has to balance the other and so he doesn't.

Instead he moves to stop those shards, curbing what he can to go straight into the wall unobstructed and feeling his head throb as he nearly misses a piece that would've shot off into their lovely, unassuming (and or curiously observing the twin-fight,) crowd after he'd disturbed it's trajectory. He grabs it by hand stumbles into that table again, this time definitely bruising his hip as he slows to allow time to catch up with him.

Thpd-pd-pd-pd-pd! go the shards into the wall as Peter hisses through his teeth as real blood mingles with fake pooled on his palm. He tosses the jagged piece of ceramic back down on the floor with the other remains of the lamp, glaring up at his sister with his jaw set.]

We're not doing this - I'm not doing this, not here and not right now. [You don't care, but people are going to get hurt. And he wouldn't care if it was just him as much as he does other people being at risk.]

[divaricate]

[Her energy still crackling and popping, she lowers herself to the floor after a moment. There is no sign of regret in her irises that still glow scarlet that she feels like that was Too Much and dangerous. That other people could have been hurt, that she was going to launch sharp things at Peter and hurt him too. With a more mild show of telekinetic powers, she shakes the part of the floor directly underneath him (and only that part of the floor) just as a final threat, like getting the last word in, or sticking a tongue out. She just looks at him with a sharp expression.]

[quickfingers]

[Peter meets her gaze with a similarly sharp look behind his own eyes, still boiling over under the surface but holding it in. He's not sure what he's more mad at, her and the fight or that he doesn't think this bothered her at all. That he knows it probably doesn't, because she went and fucked with her own head and that pisses him off to no end. He wants his sister back.

Teeth clenched like the fist at his side, he feels the floorboards shudder under him and it's unnerving - his sister actually inspires a wariness in him that wasn't there before. It's a feeling he doesn't enjoy, that sense of danger from the one person in life you thought you had complete trust in - (a version of) your other half - and it couples with the negativity from her lack of emotion to really sour him for the moment.

He doesn't have anything to say - the words aren't there and if they were, it's not worth saying them. He simply shakes his head, turning to walk away and find another drink to toss back to numb whatever's making his chest feel tight with tension.]

[divaricate]

[Aaaand she's going to go off in the other direction and hope there's less shit to deal with over there.]