oh, we dance in misery

[headandhand]

WHO: Open to all Dualizens!
WHAT: the Plague Memorial Masked Ball
WHERE: the Mayor's Mansion (central Dualis)
WHEN: the evening of November 16
WARNINGS: Visuals/discussion of disease and death in the setting. Anything else, please use appropriate warnings!

At 8 p.m. sharp, the lights inside and around the Mayor's Mansion turn up, and the doors are opened to the crowds that begin to trickle inside. All entrances are manned by Iterations, and all party-goers are scanned for both proper attire (formal and masked, mandatory) and weapons (absolutely forbidden) before being allowed entry.

Once inside, attendees are greeted to a spectacle of warmth and light and lavish decorations, all themed in white accented with gold and violet. Venture into the ballroom, and you'll see intricately carved ice sculptures in various representations of death, all laden with garlands of marigolds and violet chrysanthemums. At one end of the room, a rotating cast of musicians plays soft music in differing arrangements of strings and piano. Long tables at the other end of the ballroom are piled high with punch fountains and platters of delicious party foods, and a few bar stations serve beverages of the more adult variety to those of age.

Outside the main ballroom are seven smaller rooms, for more intimate conversations and quiet recovery from the main gala (or just skulking like a brooding weirdo, if that's your thing). Six of the rooms are decorated in monochrome blue, purple, green, orange, white, or violet, and the seventh room is pitch black with red accents.

Throughout the night, the mayor herself winds in and out of the crowds, shadowed by a pair of bodyguards. She is all smiles, greeting people with a friendly handshake and effusive words of thanks for attending the ball, but she never stays in one place long enough for a true conversation. This is a celebration of life and a remembrance of the dead, after all - not the time or place for talks of business or politics.

Enjoy yourselves tonight, everyone! And remember - death eventually comes for everyone.

Comments

Hank Anderson | Detroit: Become Human

[sociallychallenged]

1) Securing the Premesis - OTA

When he catches sight of a couple of familiar faces, ones he knows not from their little dormitory building but rather from a secret performance affair, Hank immediately has a wave of awkward paranoia. He occasionally checks under tables, around plants for disturbed soil, under the depictions of death.

He's spending a great deal of time looking for bombs or devices that aren't there, just so he's sure that things won't go further downhill for everyone. They're all going to be under a scrutinizing glare now. He doesn't want them to come searching for them with any more determination than they already have.

There's nothing to find, but for right now it's something that can hold his attention, and he wanders around commencing operation "discreetly check the back rooms".

2) Please Rescue Him - OTA

And when there is nothing there, there's just a fuckin' creepy-ass set-up of death imagery. You couldn't convince him that the Head doesn't at least have some sort of fucked-up sense of humor. He wonders how often he does this shit. Haha. Fucking look at the images of death. I'm gonna fuckin' kill you. Fuckin' bullshit.

Hank's a little grouchy. He's realized at this point that he's doomed to spending the evening alone, and that's making the bad, hateful parts of his personality scrape at the surface again. Because he bothered to fuckin' get dressed the fuck up and now he gets to play wallflower like a stupid-looking asshole. God, he even fucking did his hair. How fucking long has it been since he spent more than two fucking minutes making his hair look like a reasonable human being? He even managed to pull off that Rooster Cogburn era Jeff Bridges look.

But nope. He gets to stand here and look like a fuckin' prettied the fuck up horse's ass, fielding the occasional department pleasantry with a tight smile and occasionally a tight fist. At least he's pulling off 'stoic' in a dark blue dress uniform with gold-braided trim and a metallic mask.

He snags a drink off a bar station, listening to someone tell him all about 'these kids today' if Hank didn't already live through being the butt of that and will agree with him, searching for an escape. All he has to do is hang in there long enough for it to feel natural and then he'll leave.

2

[doesnotsparkle]

Michael shouldn't have come, by all rights hes probably on a watch list for the heart by now. He got canned from his job two days before like he predicted but he wasn't to upset. He had managed to sneak his samples out on slides it wasn't the fresh samples he would have liked but it worked. And now with an abundance of time why not fuck with the 1%.

Seeing his buddy darkling, he knew Hank's body build and hair anywhere, even if it was styled, stepping up from behind him he came to stand at his side and grinning, his suit was the usual black but with a red shirt and a red mask. His eyes glowing and his fangs on display. come at him Robo-bros. "Hank. How are you doing? You look miserable."

[sociallychallenged]

There is only so much disguising a mask can do, after all.

Here he is, giant and stocky. And he holds up a finger to the man he's talking to, without turning to Michael yet.

"Excuse me, I'm gonna talk to my friend here about obnoxiously loud music." And he turns away. But as it turns out, Hank's never seen Morbius's eyes glowing, and he jolts so hard that nearly spills his whiskey.

"Fuckin' hell. Should get a mod for my eyes to glow so I don't feel left out."

2

[notalive]

The second Connor finds himself some reprieve from the night he's been unceremoniously thrust into, he beelines for Hank, and Connor won't even pretend he hasn't made damn sure to know exactly where Hank is in that ballroom at any give time to be able to do this. He dodges around a group of people talking, adjusts the bow tie on his tux and virtually materialises next to Hank and...whoever he's talking to, Connor neither knows nor cares.

"Excuse me," but that won't stop him being polite. "I need to borrow Hank, I'll bring him back."

He won't. Unless Hank somehow really wants him to.

"I have...probably about ten minutes," he says, and though Hank can't see half of his face through the ornate gold mask he's wearing, he's still hoping Hank can see the apology on his face. "Dance with me."

[sociallychallenged]

"Where's Jane? Or... whoever she is right now?" Hank asks, appreciating the rescue because the exasperation of a former millennial is showing on his face.

He abandons his half-finished drink on a counter.

"You sure about this? Does someone else have eyes on her?"

Ten minutes, huh? Like a NAPS meeting. A hell of a date this is. He gets his company for all of ten minutes. Hank moves forward to settle his hand on his side and take his other hand, much like the night Connor figured things out between them.

"When we're done I think I'm just gonna head home. I look like a fuckin' whale in this and I'm surrounded by assholes."

[notalive]

"Karen," Connor mutters, just about giving Hank time to put his drink down before tugging him onto the dance floor. The music isn't what he'd pick, but it's still perfect - purely because he gets to have Hank for it. "I..." He looks furtively at Hank, barely grinning. "...locked her in a closet. I probably have ten minutes before somebody notices."

She'll be mad when she gets out, but it's worth it.

Connor moves in a lot closer to Hank than they started out that night, hand up on his shoulder and their bodies brushing. If Hank's paying attention he'll notice Connor didn't slick his hair back - it's loose, wavier than he's probably ever left their room with it.

"I'm surprised you stayed this long." But he squeezes Hank's hand as they start to move. "And you don't... You look..."

He doesn't have quite the right words, words that Hank will believe, so he settles for, "I haven't wanted to stop looking at you all night."

[sociallychallenged]

"Thanks." Hank has the smallest grin under his mask. Just enough to show those little gapped teeth and brighten his features even with half his face hidden. At least getting dressed up wasn't completely for nothing.

"I was hoping she'd get bored and go home with your cockblock protocol fully initiated, but looks like I wore down quicker." He moves slowly with Connor to the music. "It's alright. I get it." Even if he does kind of feel like a fuckin' nerd in a prom dress who managed to look good for one night, and then the date had to go and tend to his drunk best friend.

"I'm going to be honest, I don't know if you have room for context or anything, but this might be the creepiest fucking formal event I've ever been to."

[notalive]

Even with half of Hank's face hidden, Connor can see the way his face lights up - and it makes him smile in turn. He'd resigned himself to not getting to see Hank until after the ball, probably after Hank gave up and went home and Connor got Karen back to her room. This is all he's getting, so he's going to cherish it.

"So did I." Connor shakes his head. He'd been hoping for a lot of things - surprise Hammerhead intervention, a horrible-but-not-too-horrible accident to befall the venue, that Jane maybe by some miracle would be a little bit more mature and reasonable than Hammerhead and Jane made her out to be - but none of them became reality. "It turns out I don't think there's anything that's going to get her away from here until this is over."

And he understands that Hank wanted this night - and he did as well, he's a little surprised to realise just how much he did. Now that they're here dancing, he can see them doing this much longer - just enjoying each other's company in silence with the music between them, maybe going to one of the quieter rooms to talk and have a drink, but even with the hundreds of people here, there might as well only be two.

Now Connor can feel all couple hundred people as keenly as if they're all watching him in that moment, and none so keenly as the one locked right now in a supply closet off the hall.

"Do you mean the big death symbols? Right, I got those." And, his skin retracting so briefly probably nobody notices, Connor sends the darker thought that it feels a little like being taunted.

[sociallychallenged]

"You look good too, by the way. Very uh... what's the word I'm looking for. Dapper?" Not that he'd expect less. Connor would never let himself look bad. Even in Hank's slobby clothes, he somehow manages to wear them with some sort of fashionable flare that either comes from perfect android physique, a sense of easy poise, or some other attribute Hank reads into Connor constantly.

The thing he's noticing most, though, is Connor didn't fully restrain his hair. He has it in the most casual formal style he's ever seen.

Hank's smile becomes a little tighter, though, in mild agreement to the thought. Yeah. It feels like they're being mocked. Both a promise for what's to come and really marrying that idea of the old plague. Either to get new people to buy the idea or to keep a state of fear of the past going.

But he tries not to think about it, because they just have a few minutes before Connor will have to make a hasty retreat. So he closes his eyes and leans in enough to press the side of his head against Connor's, tilting so the mask isn't too uncomfortable, letting them be close for a quick breath before the nightmare begins anew.

I. Premises Secured

[magneticfields]

It doesn't take long for Erik to notice the paranoid wanderings of the other man. He saunters over as Hank is preoccupied with... a potted plant? And clears his throat.

"I might be able to help with some more discrete examinations, if you know what it is that you're looking for."

[sociallychallenged]

Hank grimaces as he pulls back from a thorough plant investigation.

"You heard about a bombing when everyone first arrived? Trying to make sure there's not another one." Because it would be a terrible time for it. The police are pointedly aggressive at the moment, the public is being further alarmed at the idea the Heart might be out there. And he doesn't want these kids in their building to get in trouble because someone keeps making foolish decisions to prove their point.

He straightens up.

"Sorry. I know there's already been a sweep. I just thought I'd double-check."

He likes Nick. He does not like her company.

[magneticfields]

"If there's a bomb, poking potting soil with your fingers isn't the best way to find it." Erik lifts his hand about waist height, spreading his fingers as he searches the surroundings for anything untoward. "Good way to lose a hand, though."

"If there is a bomb, it doesn't have any metal in it." He announces once he's done with his personal sweep. It's not absolute proof. They have technology he doesn't really understand, but... "I've never come across a bomb design that doesn't use any metal."

He sighs at the mention of the bombing and everything else. "I wouldn't put it past them to try. Dilettantes."

[sociallychallenged]

"I'm not putting my fingers in it. If someone put something in the pot, they would have left soil around. Either on the floor or just jumbled on top. But there's nothin' fuckin' wrong with it, or anywhere."

Maybe he's just being paranoid. But there's, honestly, no other way to be at the moment. This fucking place where he can't trust one side not to throw them under the bus, and one side not to drag them away.

"Nothing under any of the tables or the buffet or in the fucking kitchens. Not so far, anyway. I guess I just got a bad feeling." Then that's followed by one of those looks that has to acknowledge that good feelings are getting harder to come by.

[magneticfields]

"Unless they swept up after themselves." Erik points it out, but he's not entirely sure the Heart actually would think to do that. So he's not too strident about that particular point.

"Bad feelings are worth investigating." At least in his experience, they always come from somewhere. Even if he has to create the source himself. He tilts his head away from the potted plants and in the vague direction of the kitchens. "Do you want to do a sweep? I can sense metal but from it'll be easier if I'm closer."

He doesn't mention how this is a new development. Back home he could be miles away from that kitchen and identify every alloy in the place. But for some reason since arriving in this city he is having a harder time. Maybe he's just getting old.

[sociallychallenged]

"You can do that?" Hank asks curiously. "Like uh... some sort of built-in scanner or some sort of natural sensitivity?"

But yeah, he'll take it.

"Anyway, fuckin' A. I could use the help. I know they used wires with copper and an old phone for their last bomb. Like the shitty bricks with the digital shit screens. They've got some metal components in them. So they're gonna have less metal than a couple of quarters, plus a lithium battery."

1) Securing the Premises

[whosthemonsternow]

South watches him as he enters the room she's lounging in, sipping her drink and idly adjusting her mask, legs crossed at the knees and pulling the slit of her dress unnecessarily higher on her tattooed thigh. She was going to greet the familiar face, but he's...preoccupied? It takes her a hot second to figure out what he's doing, but it clicks soon enough. As part of her mayoral duty, before she was captured and fancied up for the night, she and a few others already did a sweep of the rooms. And as part of her paranoid duty- she did another sweep after, just in case.

But she doesn't tell him that just yet, amused instead to watch him oh so discreetly peek around and under and in whatever he can. Maybe to someone not watching him intently, he's just awkwardly trying to unwind from the overwhelming spectacle the ballroom holds. With how she's closely observing him, it's almost comical watching him work.

She waits until his searching draws him closer to where she's sitting, bobbing one foot up and down slightly as she speaks up, "Hey boss, you lose an earring?"

[sociallychallenged]

That's possibly not entirely wrong. He's not trying to unwind, but he is trying desperately to occupy himself along with entertaining that vile surge of paranoia. He's the dictionary picture by the word 'annoyed' when she speaks, and he just huffs out his nose. The feeling isn't at her, just at the situation.

"Just didn't want a repeat of that bombing that happened when I first arrived. Seemed like a good time for certain parties to pull a stunt, you know."

He doesn't expect that it'll be the Head's side pulling something tonight.

[whosthemonsternow]

"Well obviously." She bobs her foot some more, sipping from her drink before adding, "We checked before the ball, and I've gone through a couple times myself. Can't be too safe."

She doesn't trust the Head, or really any sides of this situation. Hank seems to have his head on straight, though, if she had to trust a side, it'd probably be his as of right now.

[sociallychallenged]

It's the 'during' that he's worried about. That somehow the Heart had managed to sneak the parts in, disguised as items that weren't weapons. He'd seen a couple of members lingering around, didn't want to call them out or draw attention to them.

Somehow they could cobble together a bomb on the premises. But he knows better than to discuss that type of thing tonight; his searching he can write off as his duty as a law enforcement officer and not that his date is otherwise occupied for the evening.

So he just nods and raises his hand in resignation. "Right. Yeah. I know you guys checked. I just uh... had nothing better to do than double-check it. Sorry about that. This shit is fucking boring."

[whosthemonsternow]

It's entirely possible, who knows what's been smuggled in under the idea of it being something else. Get enough pieces of meaningless accessories together, could probably cook up something bad, she'll give him that. Even if she is still kind of amused at his snooping.

"Nah, you're good. Never hurts to have extra eyes around or more heads on swivels." Especially right now. Things have been...awfully tame for the night, she can't help feeling like the other shoe's gonna drop any time now.

She sits up properly as she shrugs, letting both feet hit the ground as she tips up her drink a moment to finish it before adding, "Boring's better than exploding, but yeah. It blows."

to the rescue!

[metamorphotic]

Nick's only here to observe tonight - no revolutionary activities planned, honest. As far as most people should suspect, she's just another ordinary citizen in a tux wandering through the crowds, chatting with people she knows from the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, occasionally stopping for a dance, if asked. She's been meaning to check in on Hank anyway, but this loudmouth complaining about kids today is obnoxious as fuck and needs to be shut down, so she has exactly zero guilt about interrupting their conversation.

"Y'know," she says, placing a mask of saccharine-sweetness over the black domino she's already wearing, all smiles and her best customer service voice, "where I'm from, there was a great prophet by the name of Aaliyah who once famously said, 'age ain't nothing but a number.' Maybe think on that for a sec before you start runnin' your mouth again."

Verbal takedown complete, Nick turns to Hank. "I believe there is a refill calling my name at that other bar over there," she says, pointing to the station on the other end of the room. "Care to escort me?"

[sociallychallenged]

The guy's face tenses up, wearing the fighting expression of someone wanting to protest. All the comebacks were visible on the curve of his frowning mouth, in the flare of his nostrils as he was attempting to mention something about her own maturity. But Hank punctuates her clapback with a simple, "Right. Gotta go talk to her, she knows where the decent whiskey is."

He'd been wanting to make a comment all night, bring up that her and others were around and that as a big public event? Probably not the best call. Even if they weren't planning harm. His concerns ended up misdirected, but they are still present.

He joins her over by the bar and leans on it. This time careful to avoid any questionable subjects.

"My fuckin' hero." He snorts. "God, I fuckin' remember every millenial bullshit headline back in the teens. People couldn't deal with the fact we didn't care about fabric softener or that people fuckin' liked avacados."

[metamorphotic]

She snickers softly. "Right? Couldn't possibly be 'cause of that whole recession thing that happened in '08 trashing the economy, or the world just going to shit in general because of hundreds of years of clueless rich white dudes being in charge. Nah, it's those damn millennials and their smartphones and their avocados that're ruining everything. Pfft." She takes a sip of her fresh drink, grinning behind the glass. "Shit, I was almost a technical adult by the time Y2K rolled around. I didn't stop using a flip-phone 'til I got dumped in Hadriel. We didn't even have fabric softener and avocados there."

Nick doesn't know the OK, boomer meme, on account of being shuffled around the multiverse at the time it happened, but the same sentiment applies.

"Say, wasn't there a dustup here over avocados a little while back, too? I think I heard someone talking about that."

[sociallychallenged]

"I can't even blame it on that here. Maybe we just hit a point where we start being assholes at a certain age."

He knows that he did. He follows after her, bordering on asking if she's sure it's a good idea to be here. But he opts for thinking not mentioning it at all would be the better course of action. Ears and eyes everywhere, he knows. And the Heart is in some pretty fuckin' real danger.

"Oh, yeah. Kid named Squall cut loose when his bosses were assholes; honestly, can't blame him. He organized a rebellion against his bosses. Really was good about getting out the people that got caught in the middle. Place was one of those locations that Sam's Club's fans think they're too good for. Too expensive stuff or too damn much stuff, I guess. No in between."

[metamorphotic]

"Maybe some of us hit that point of being an asshole early on," she says, half-grinning behind her glass. "Luckily, some of us make an effort to quit being an asshole, too." Speaking of herself, of course. "Thing that pisses me off so much about that whole damn millennials bullshit is it's so goddamn stupid, and it's a thing people've been doing forever. I mean, the Who wrote 'My Generation' way back in the '60s, for fuck's sake, and that's the generation shitting all over the millennials. You'd think they'd know better."

She taps a finger along the glass in her hand, thinking back to what she remembers of the reports of that avocado incident. "Yeah ... it was a Premium Foods, right? I never shop there. But that was Squall?" She laughs. "I know that kid. Every time I've seen him, he seemed way too uptight to ever cut loose about anything." She shakes her head, still grinning with amusement. "It's always the ones you least expect, right?"