Birthday Party

[peripheries]

Who: Paul Atreides and all his CR
What: Throwing everyone’s favorite Duke a surprise birthday party
When: Forwarded dated to April 1st
Where: Bone House in Gaze

Content Warnings: Drinking, underage drinking, drugs (both fictional and not), drawings of space worms, skeletons, will add further warnings if necessary



When you arrive at the house in Gaze, (affectionately known as Bone House), a skeleton will open the door and offer to take your coat if you have one. No need to take your shoes off or anything!

The large house has been decorated with black streamers and confetti. In the entryway and hung on the railing to the second floor that overlooks the entrance to the great room are large banners that say “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL” (though one looks like it used to say “Jaune” but was just painted over? Whatever).

In the Living Room, there is a large board and various colored markers for people to write messages to the birthday boy. There is also a table full of bottled water and various couches, chairs, and beanbags to collapse into if the party gets to be too much and one needs a quiet place to rest or a place to chill if you’ve imbibed too much… well, whatever you had.

It is also where all the food and drinks are.

There’s an extremely large charcuterie board with the usual meats, cheeses, and olives as well as an extremely eccentric collection of snacks ranging from individual sized Cheez-it bags, to humungous bags of Doritos and salty chips, as well as nearly every kind of Oreo one can imagine.

There are also various cakes, all angel food. Some are misshapen, some have an attempt at being frosted with whipped cream and fruit, one even says “Happy Birthday Ka-” before that was hastily covered with a bunch of strawberries jammed really close together.

At the island, a skeleton is playing bartender. Surprisingly, it can seem to take and understand individual orders, but there’s always a constant flow of tequila shots being made and sent out to the great hall to be served by another skeleton.

And, no, of course it’s not going to check your age to see if you’re legal. It’s a skeleton. Why would it care?

The Great Hall is the center of activity and where everyone is encouraged to mingle and have fun. There is a skeleton on the grand piano in the corner gleefully playing piano covers of the hits from the Shrek Soundtrack with the occasional cover of “DaRude’s Sandstorm” when it has another one to help out.

In another corner, on huge piece of paper that spans nearly 6ft wide and 8ft tall is drawing of an Arrakis sandworm and it’s giant maw. The game is Pin the Tooth on the Sandworm and it’s… very easy… because the worm maw is most of the board. Even if the skeleton spins you as you’re blindfolded, it’s pretty hard to lose. If you manage to do it, which is likely, the skeleton running the game will award you a tequila shot! If you lose, the skeletons will award you a tequila shot (but it’s rail).

(It’s a drinking game, isn’t the point to drink?)

There’s also a table that has many candelabras on it, numbering up to seventeen. They’re still lit and burning even though there is a sign that says “make a wish!” even though it almost looks like a shrine for the dead.

…It’s maybe clear that the concept of “birthday candles” was greatly misunderstood.

There is also a skeleton dealing out small doses of “Spice”, a psychoactive drug straight outta the Duneverse. However, you must check in with this Skeleton to get a dose. There will be no “permanently melting your brain with ancestral memories” at this party!

Teacher’s/God’s/Jod’s/The Emperor Undying’s study, adjacent to the main hall, is closed and locked. Though, the lock is fairly easy to break if someone really wanted to get in. There’s not even skeletons guarding.

That said, many things are warded with eerie runes of blood and bone.

So, fuck around and find out.

The upstairs is generally off limits. Party goers can climb up the stairs, and it’s encouraged if they want to look over the Great Room from above, but all of the bedrooms are carefully guarded by more skeletons who will SCREAM VERY LOUDLY if you try to enter and will become hostile if done by force.

Of course, this won’t happen if you are with someone who lives in the house.

Enjoy the party! Mingle away!

((ooc: if you have any questions or anything, please hit me up at worldtype)) or via PM.))

Birthday Board | At the Party | The Morning After | IC Party Games | Spice Dealer

Comments

Oscar Pine | RWBY | OTA

[justoscar]

cw: underage accidental substance use

Early

[Oscar had a hunch that he couldn't necessarily trust anyone's cooking in this house after hearing about Paul straining rice with his hands, and as such came prepared... with a casserole dish loaded with mac and cheese, a special on the farm for weekend potlucks and other such gatherings.

Besides food, he had made good on his promise to Kaworu and brought along a sheet and a variety of washable tempera paints with an assortment of tools for people to play with. He expected people to be drunk, but he didn't plan to partake in any tequila himself.

If it seemed like he kept stealing glances towards the locked study... no he wasn't. You're imagining it.]

Late

[...Or, maybe you weren't. Later in the evening features a much different Oscar, who is more decidedly done but still sticking to his personal values and not uttering a word of his experience to the others. When he wasn't sourly avoiding the antics of drunk or stoned people, he was staring out into the distance with a haunted expression shadowing his eyes.

Clearly someone found trouble.

Eventually, he became tempted to try the spice.... and misjudged, accidentally taking far more than he had intended.

Oops.

The farmlad could be found flopped over on the sofa next to a potted plant he had somehow found, gently fondling it's leaves while he stared up into the nothingness of the ceiling, quietly muttering what seemed like nonsense to himself.]

What do you mean you never got over her? Didn't she kill your kids? And you?

...Oh. Yeah... after taking a swim like that, no one was ever gonna save her. No matter how sweetly she looked at you.

...

You seriously didn't get any idea of trouble when you looked in her eyes?

Early

[floatsaway]

[Ochako really tagged along mostly on Izuku's behest, not exactly knowing the host/birthday boy in question, but always ready and willing to mingle and meet new friends. She's still looking a tiny bit under the weather from the Warmblood affliction plaguing herself and a few of her friends, but with the month slowly but surely coming to an end...the worst of it seems to have passed enough that she can stomach (literally, in this case) going out and enjoying a party like this.

The skeletons weren't really part of the plan though, and with her intense fear of ghosts and horror-creatures, Ochako scurries away from any that seem to be hovering around, clutching a wrapped present to her chest almost like a shield. She's pale, a little clammy - this time from fear and not her blood sickness - but dressed up as nice as possible! It's the single outside she was able to barter for since coming to this world, but it's simple and, thankfully, clean. The jungle escapades really did a number on the clothes she did manage to come with...]

De-De-Dekuuu... [Ochako whimpers, pawing at poor Oscar's sleeve. Oh dear, it seems a bit of mistaken identity is happening.] Why...wh-why didn't you, w-w-warn me...?! You know I get sc-scared of stuff like thiiiss...!

[justoscar]

[It was easy to get the two of them mixed up in the darkness. They were small and skinny, with bright eyes, messy hair, and a habit of wearing green. Oscar looked over at the stranger with obvious surprise that flickered in paleblood eyes that gleamed in the dim lighting, holding fast to the stack of paintbrushes he was arranging while he looked over the girl.]

Deku? [He asked, with an obvious chuckle.] Um... I'm Oscar, and I've got no idea who Deku is, but...

[A look at her hunched over stance and the way she all but hung on his arm told him enough about what was going on. He smiled.]

Why don't we go find him together?

[floatsaway]

[Honestly, the two's similarities in appearance is uncanny, right down to the freckles and even the shape of the eyes and face. Ochako may have done a double-take even in better light if the situation were different. But as it stands, Ochako is tilting her head to one side curiously, brows coming together as she squints, then realizes her mistake.]

Oh!! Oh my--I'm so sorry! I thought you were someone else...you look so much like my friend. [Now that she's up close and not shaking in her boots, Ochako can see the subtle differences - the hair being the major one.] Eh, w-well, he's probably around, you don't need to burden yourself when I made a mista--yeep!

[Another skeleton butler meanders over, offering the two some drinks if they like, and Ochako jumps and immediately hides herself behind Oscar's back. WHY IS THIS A THING?? WHY ARE THEY SO LIFELIKE, TOO??? BAKUGOU WAS RIGHT - COMING HERE WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA!!]

WHY AM I NOT GETTING NOTIFS

[justoscar]

It's okay-- it's okay.

[Oscar repeated, holding out his arms to give her a little more space if she needed. Although the sudden entry of a stranger into his personal bubble was more startling than anything some of his friends from Remnant could do, this was still far better than having the air crushed out of his lungs.]

I don't know many people here, honestly. Helping you out will help me, too.

[He desperately needed a distraction, or else he was definitely going to break into that locked room.]

BECAUSE DW IS THE WORST

[floatsaway]

[Naturally, Ochako would NEVER do something like this, but her phobia makes her do things she wouldn't - like fling herself at random strangers as a potential meat shield between herself and the object of her phobia - but the fact Oscar looks almost identical to Izuku helps, too. Or doesn't help...for him. Ochako whimpers, pale-faced and clammy, and looking like she is having the worst possible time right now.

She was warned about the skeletons. She was!! But Ochako didn't think they'd be like...actual skeletons!! She assumed like...something more comedic, cartoony, perhaps even cute? Like those models in the science class which are creepy, but don't trigger her fears so bad. But no...no, these are just. They're here. They're vibing. And she's going to throw up.]

Uuu... th-thank you...and, um, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know th-these thing would be so...life-like. I-I really just--...I mean. I-I can't deal with things like this easily. It's so stupid, but...I just hate scary things like ghosts and zombies and stuff.

[justoscar]

[Oscar may have been a tad more brown and his eyes more hazel than green, but they were both short with a messy mop of hair and a tendency to wear colors along the same region of the color wheel. The mix up was easy-- he totally would understand it, too, once he realized who their mutual friend was.]

You're okay. We're okay. [He repeated, keeping his tone as level and even as he could manage amid the chaos of the party.]

Let's just go get some soda and snacks.

Do you like mac and cheese? I brought a big pan over after hearing how Paul mistreats the rice. It seemed like a good idea.

[floatsaway]

[Bless this guy's heart, having to deal with Ochako's stupid phobia. She's going to wring Izuku's neck when she finds him... Or at least give him a piece of her mind!! Harumph! There's no way Ochako's going to sleep well tonight...not a wink. At least having someone around to sooth her is nice. The people here are really, really nice...so there is that much.]

Y-Yeah...I love food. [Open mouth, words come out. Ochako's not thinking, keeping a wary lookout for more of the shambling skele-men until she blinks and peers back at Oscar, looking up thoughtfully.] Eh, that's that, um...that pasta dish, right? I've definitely had it before, but not often... It's not really common where I'm from. It's pretty good, though!! And I'd love to try anything anymore makes!

I brought a few croquettes myself. [Since they were super easy to make.]

[justoscar]

Croquettes sound great!

[Oscar grinned, glad that the girl was calming down. Food was a universal language, even if everyone understood it a little differently. His Aunt always said that it was impossible to really know someone without dining with them-- and he understood it more and more with every day he was away from home.

Guiding her towards the table, he explained.]

And you're right about the mac and cheese. It's macaroni pasta baked with a really awesome mix of cheeses. Back home, my Aunt always liked to bake it with little crunchies on top-- so that's how I do it.

Late! (cw: drugs/weed)

[possessum]

( Peter has yet to indulge in that Spice stuff just yet — that'll come soon... but for now, he's riding the waves of a normal high. Peter's no stranger to it, quite experienced in that regard. It's been a necessity for him for years, to have something to soften those anxious edges when he needs to. To pull him out of himself and slow things down. And these days, to quiet what shines too brightly. By the end of the night, he'll have smoked so much that he's numb.

But right now, he's just a little goofy, able to smile in ways he normally can't, eyes glassy and red around the corners. He knows maybe less than a handful of people here, so when he recognises someone, he stands out immediately and Peter's making his way over to the sofa. It's the kid he's talked to a couple of times — not a kid, he's a young teen, but something in Peter can't help placing Oscar in the former category. He's young, sweet, and always seems soft in ways that Peter maybe relates to. Feels protective over.

And as Peter approaches him and sees the younger teen clearly a bit zonked out of it himself, there's a little dose of worry that blooms in his stomach, to begin with. Peter slowly moves to sit down beside Oscar, feeling heavier than he usually does, body sinking into the cushions. ...In one hand he still carries a bong. )

Hey, little dude. ( He smiles hazily, and his heavy, dark-rimmed eyes drift to the plant, which Peter assumes is what Oscar's talking to. ) Are you and uh, your new friend there okay?

it's fine!

[justoscar]

[Slowly, hazily-- his wide, owlish eyes affixed their glassy stare upon Peter. Oscar vaguely recognized the person that had plopped down beside him, registering only that this person was a friend and little more.

It was clear that he was looking at something beyond Peter's reach, for better or for worse.]

....how can anyone be okay when she is still out there?

[He drawled, words slurring as he fought to gain control over his tongue and his capacity to converse at the same time. It felt as if he were on the wrong side of a window, with only ghosts within his reach.]

How long do we have to fight? How many more must fight someone who can't die?

[possessum]

( Peter's dopey smile remains in place for those few initial seconds in which he's taking in the younger boy's glossy stare, his slow movements.... Oh man, yeah, he's totally blitzed, isn't he?

But it's when the words come that something feels... different. A little wrong. The older teen blinks, that smile slowly shifting into a frown, willing against his own lethargy to sit up just a bit straighter.

It's more the way Oscar's speaking that's alarming, at least at first. Like he can't quite make his mouth move the right way. Has he been drinking? Does he know how to drink, yet? Peter's concern spreads wider; maybe he should keep him talking for a bit more, get his brain going a little. He doesn't want the poor kid to pass out or something. )

She? ( He gives a slow, heavy-eyed glance around the room. ) Is there someone here after you?

[justoscar]

Not here. No.

[With his limbs and head feeling like leaden weights, it was hard to sit up-- nonetheless shift to his side to stare more directly at Peter with eyes that were far too glassy and wide for anyone to be in decent condition. The dimmed light revealed a truth he had been keeping under wraps: his eyes gleamed like a nocturnal creature's whenever ambient light in the dimmed room hit them, and in that moment they all but glowed like some shy creature slinking back into the shadows... not unlike the jackalopes that had flocked through Deerington a couple of autumns ago.]

We took care of her in the dream, killed her over and over until she couldn't hurt us anymore.

... She found peace before we entered the sea, I think.

But, on Remnant? The fight is still on.

[possessum]

( When Oscar sits up like that, meets his eyes, the older teen freezes. Even in his lulled state, a spike of alarm pierces through him with an unpleasant jolt, an anxiety that blossoms in his stomach.

Oscar's eyes are— wrong. And maybe Peter should be used to such things by now: after seeing what Corruption can do (Luna's here with him, and her own eyes shine with an eerie iridescent glaze), and his own were turning fully black just a couple months ago.... but it's not something he'll ever get used to. Changes like that. Little hints of something that's not quite human.

He swallows, staring into those glowing eyes, and as he listens to Oscar speak... something within Peter stirs, too. Something ancient and knowing, but lost in its ways. Something that latches on to what the boy says and how — us, we.

Peter's eyes don't quite glow, but something sparks within them, brightening and clearing their glossy haze. Something curious and Other. It isn't only Peter who asks the question. )

...Who are you?

[justoscar]

Just me.

... I think.

[He frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember the boundaries of his sense of self. The person before before him seemed to all but vibrate with worry that washed over Oscar through his spice-enhanced Paleblood senses in waves. It felt bizarre, as if he were being held under water--

He let his head drop deeper into the pillow with a groan]

There's too many faces and voices.... She is the only thing in common between everyone.

[possessum]

( Peter — and not-Peter, and somewhere in them both are more ghosts of their own, all the little lost spirits that the demon's been forced to inhabit over time — look back, wide-eyed. Opened up. For a moment, Peter's breath is too slow; he's absorbing whatever, whomever, sits before him. Or, trying to. On some level, he's aware this is Oscar; on another, he's aware it's more complicated than that.

Then he blinks as the younger boy's head drops like that, stirred out of his own strange mixture of ancient things coated in dust, and once more wearing a human concern more than an alien confusion. She.

He tilts his head just slightly, drops his voice almost to a whisper. There's no one listening in; everyone else that happens to be in the room is doing their own thing, but he still keeps the conversation with Oscar a private one. Quiet. What's haunting him...? )

Who.... is she?

[justoscar]

[Recognition warmed Oscar's wearied expression for a moment while he stared at Peter with wide eyes-- recognizing the shadows of multitudes if only on an unconscious level. The ghosts between Peter and whomever else lurked in there cast a familiar pall that was not unlike the ghosts of Trench.

Or, the ghosts of multitudes that lurked in the dark places he couldn't touch in his own soul.

Brows furrowing, he really focused on Peter from the ether. Even if for the moment he couldn't place the face, he recognized two facts:

1) This was someone who was okay to trust.
2) This was not Ozma.

Struggling for words and voice, he finally managed to get his thoughts and tongue in enough of an alignment to explain:]

She is the witch cursed with immortality who destroyed humanity thousands of years ago, the one who creates the Grimm beasts who hunt down our people daily, and who is the reason why people my age and younger enter combat academies to learn how to fight.

She wants to destroy Remnant-- because that's the only way she can destroy herself and find release from her own eternal suffering.

She cannot die. Nothing I can do can stop her. Nothing is going to end.

late | cw: underage drug and alcohol use

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul stands next to the couch with his head tilted as Oscar murmurs to himself, looking down at the slightly more intoxicated boy and the fern with a thoughtful crease between his brows.]

Oscar?

[Carefully, Paul settles on the other side of the plant, drawing his legs up to fold them in a half-lotus as he reaches out into Oscar's field of vision and waves, slowly.]

Are you all right?

[After what happened with Midoriya, and what he's seeing and hearing here, Paul should likely be reconsidering what a good idea it was to provide largely unsupervised access to a psychogenic drug. He isn't, yet, but he should be.]

[justoscar]

[Ah. A voice.

Surfacing blearily, as if under an eternity of water so deep he could no longer tell up from down, Oscar slowly blinked at the source of the voice. In the dim lighting, a glimpse of the effects that Trench had on his person was clear: hazel eyes, normally the warm hue of the barley fields around his home, gleamed in the dim lighting as if he were some feral nocturnal creature prone to fits and startles. If there was any recognition at all in his awareness, none of it was evident on his face.

It took an agonizing effort to reforge the connections between his brain and his mouth to even begin to form an answer.]

She went to the sea and stayed there,

[He uttered, words slurring in the way that someone in the midst of a dream would.]

Only after we killed her again, and again, and again-- over and over and over and over and over and over-- was she able to make peace with herself.

[A heavy beat passed. Internally, he felt the interminable ticking of a clock somewhere in his mindscape.]

That's not possible back home. We can't stop her.

...I'm sorry.

[terriblepurpose]

[Like before, Paul doesn't know what Oscar is talking about, or who he's talking to. It doesn't seem to be Paul himself, or if it is, he's being included in some other audience. It's as if he's speaking from the depths of sleep with open eyes, or caught in the midst of a vision.

How Oscar is speaking concerns him less than what he's speaking of. Paul shifts closer, catching the potted fern between them with light pressure from his knee.]

You don't have to be sorry. [He says, soothingly.] She isn't here now. You're at a party, with me, Paul. From the beach, and when you came over with the cupcakes. Do you remember that?

[justoscar]

[The silence after the question ticked for an eternity-- or, perhaps just the span of a breath, it was impossible to tell at this juncture. Oscar willed himself to breathe as the soothing voice met his ears.

Then, the ticking stopped.

Blinking again, Oscar groaned in annoyance at both himself and the situation he had found himself in.]

I do. I do, I do...

[He moaned, burying his face in the pillow. Then, muffled, he added:]

So I was talking to you. Not him.

[It wasn't a question.]

That's embarrassing....

[terriblepurpose]

[Embarrassment is a more reassuring reaction than panic. Paul lets out an exhale that's longer than it needs to be as he settles into the cushions, shaking his head even though Oscar won't be able to see it.]

You didn't say anything to be ashamed of.

[Upsetting things, with worse implications, but not shameful, even if prickling afterimage spice empathy blends with the natural human tendency to pick up on nearby embarrassment as one's own.

(If this is the kind of thing Oscar usually feels, it's no wonder he seems so stressed. It's pleasant for an evening in mostly happy company, but he wouldn't want to keep it.)]

...who did you think I was?

[justoscar]

[The Paleblood senses that Oscar gained upon entering Trench had slowly grown more powerful in specific ways from the very beginning. As long as he felt an emotional connection with someone, the threads of their everything were easy enough for him to grasp. Having learned a few tricks from a blind telepath who has since returned to Remnant, Oscar did good best to be polite with it.

Unfortunately, times of duress made his grasp more fickle, and threads from even those he didn't know well tended to overwhelm him and obscure his ability to differentiate the individuals around him. The Spice was no help-- and it was a small fortune that Paul at least radiated a sense of calm that he could find ease in.]

...a ghost.

[He managed to answer, brows furrowing as if he were trying to focus on something that wasn't there.

Oscar didn't feel like discussing the particulars, but 'ghost' seemed like a good enough description for a man who died too young and was forced into making a decision he didn't fully understand because his lover couldn't handle the grief of losing him. ]

[terriblepurpose]

[Ghosts, Paul understands. He's never seen one himself, not a real one (the apparitions of last month don't count; the figures of Winter Mourning don't either), but their theoretical existence is something he's as confident in as atomic theory.]

Are they still here?

[He knows they aren't visible, obvious by their absence, but he can't help but glance around the couch curiously all the same. It's only when he realizes how insensitive that must look that he stops, returning his slightly flustered gaze to Oscar.]

Is there anything I can do?

[It's almost like the beach all over again, he thinks. He draws on his experience then to formulate an appropriately (he hopes) concerned look, his mind already running through a variety of responses to possible requests Oscar might make.]

[justoscar]

[It was hard to think-- and even harder to make his lips and tongue work in tandem to make words come out in a sensible order. Blindly reaching out for Paul's hand in hopes that the physical contact could act like an anchor, he struggled to make everything come out in a coherent order.]

Just- just don't fall for her tricks.

[He mumbled without context, brows furrowed as he regarded Paul with an odd urgency.]

I- it's not her. But, she killed her lover and their kids for less. You... you're smart.

I know you're smart. You wouldn't be here if you weren't.