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

[peripheries]

[In that moment, Kaworu perhaps understands why humans don’t always say what they mean. Or why he wrapped words in a joke. There’s a risk to truth, of giving up too much of yourself, of exposing weakness, of changing things that you thought were steady and that will be forever transformed.

It’s now Kaworu’s turn to pull back, as Paul did in his tent, and break a small tether between them. He lets go of Paul, even if it feels like ripping off layers of his own skin, and grips the railing once again.]

If you’d take it.

[The railing feels cold. Or maybe his hands are very hot.]

Or I’d take over all your chores for a month.

[terriblepurpose]

[It's the insistence on a choice that makes up Paul's mind, more than anything else. It tilts a balance of decision, not to toppling, but to a definitive slant.

He always makes things more complicated than they need to be.]

If you did all my chores for a month, I'd just end up doing yours.

[Paul shrugs, shifting to set his own hands on the railing, maintaining the narrow space between them. It feels fair.]

The original bet, then.

[Paul's tone is light, a little too much so. He thinks of wings in an updraft, a slow, warmed spin.]

If I surprise you with something you like as much as I like this. Fair?

[peripheries]

I could do both! Chores aren't hard, they're just so dull.

[Okay, Paul is maybe right. Chores are still something he's learning. They're both learning. Kaworu scoots closer again, his pinky brushing against Paul's, and shoulders bumping as he sways slightly from the drink and the music.]

Yes, the original bet.

[Paul's tone is so light, Kaworu wonders if he might find it up on the ceiling, drifting lazily around the atmosphere with the streamers and confetti. His eyes glance up and then back at Paul.]

Fair.

[terriblepurpose]

[It's only a matter of minor adjustment to hook his pinky over Kaworu's as he counterbalances the other boy's sway. He's taken Kaworu's hand in his before. There's nothing new about it, except that it feels new, as if he's forgotten the slender warmth of his fingers since the last time he touched them.]

You should be careful. I'm good at surprising people.

[He wonders what his eyes look like, if they're as half-lidded as they feel. He wonders what all of him looks like, in a way he rarely does, a skimming and not unpleasant self-consciousness.]

So. It's settled. I have to get you back down there so I can conduct a study.

[peripheries]

I know. I'm excited to see how you surprise me.

[Well, mask off. He doesn't expect to win this. Not really. And truthfully he doesn't want to. He can't deny the selfish desire to have someone try to surprise him. To make the effort of trying to fool him.

As for how Paul looks, well, if he asked Kaworu, he'd say that he's as handsome as he was back on the beach, his eyes a beautiful sea blue-green instead of a violent blue.]

Oh? Shall we?

[He shifts his pinky to cover Paul's hand with his own, gesturing backwards to indicate, yes, he does mean that he'll yeet them right off this staircase balcony to the room below.]

[terriblepurpose]

[There's already a secretive threading to Paul's asymmetrical smile as he nods his assent to the fall, already adjusting himself to better handle the tumbling descent - he's getting better with the inner ear every day.]

As long as we do a flip.

[Paul always sets out to win, even if those victories are sometimes according to criteria set only by himself. Kaworu knows that. There's no need to belabor that, to place unnecessary stress on things that are as-yet delicately tacit.

But under his easy confidence is a tentativeness that doesn't feel like fear, and under Kaworu's hand his is heated, and maybe, he thinks, bracing for the plunge, it's all right to wade instead of dive.]

[peripheries]

Only because it's your birthday.

[That's a lie. He'd do a flip anytime for Paul even though his inner ears are adapting much less slowly despite it all being dependant on him (embarrassing).

He knows Paul is planning something, striving for a victory in a battle that is mostly inside his head. That look in his face is too familiar. But at least, now, Kaworu doesn't ask what Paul is thinking. He's also learned that it's impossible to get these plans out of him, no matter how hard he pokes and asks. So instead, all he can do is let Paul win or try to beat him at a game he doesn't know.

He hasn't decided which to pick yet.

Delicate pale fingers move from being cradled in larger, calloused ones, to gripping the hand above his tightly. There's an upwards tug as Kaworu stands on the railing without swaying, impossibly steady on such a small piece of surface. Then he tugs Paul upwards, like he weighs nothing and for a moment they're aligned perfectly, impossibly, on the railing like paper figures in a book.

Then they go over the edge, Paul's hand still in his. Kaworu twists backwards as Paul twists forwards as the area around them distorts with light like the very fabric of reality is twisting. They slow as they make their descent, landing lightly, impossibly lightly, lighter than if they'd simply stepped down the last stair.

Kaworu grips Paul's hand a little as he stumbles, a little uncharacteristically.]

There. Your study then?

[terriblepurpose]

[It is characteristic for Paul to steady Kaworu whenever he is unbalanced, one way or another. It's less so for him to keep holding onto Kaworu's hand, standing poised where he landed (smoothly, but he can do better) as if it's the most natural transition imaginable.

He rolls back his shoulders and sweeps his gaze across the room, noting who noticed their descent, who has kept watching, and this part is as much for Kaworu as the rest of it, in its own way. It's drawing a circle that everyone can see, however they ended up arranged in it.]

How many presents do I get? Parties, flips...

[He's lucky, his tone says, and he knows that he is. It's still teasing, but there's that, too.]

And studying. You're spoiling me. [He doesn't say it like a bad thing.] Show me your favorite part of all of this.

[peripheries]

[Kaworu settles easily into his hand in Paul's grip. They're so different in as many ways as they are alike. He takes no notice of the people around him and who might be watching. He's confident and assured, perhaps for no reason other than he has no concept of why he'd be anything otherwise.

He squeezes Paul's hand.]

They're not all really presents.

[Paul probably knows but still! He can't just take normal things as presents! For a moment, he looks around and his eyes settle on the Worm Game. He'd listened to Paul, seen him draw these creatures, and talk about them passionately. It's a good reflection of something Paul likes but... is it his favorite?

He turns and gestures at the board left for people to write notes for the Paul. Where people left their sincere feelings that he wanted Paul to understand.]

It's that.

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul watches Kaworu cast around the room. He watches him think it through, intuition coupled with insight, and choose an answer that drizzles like warm honey down Paul's ribs.

He is being spoiled, whether Kaworu thinks so or not. He's being given everything he wouldn't be able to bring himself to ask for (or almost everything; almost, almost, but he won't think about that, not here, not during this), by someone he especially never would have asked it of.]

That's also my favorite.

[He squeezes back, affirmation and fondness.]

Did you write anything on it yet?

[peripheries]

I thought you could keep it afterwards, if you wanted to.

[Something to remind him of this night. Humans like mementos from what he understands. Physical things that connect them to memories of people, places, and events as though if they couldn't touch something, maybe it all would fade away like it never happened at all.

His thumb idly traces Paul's where their fingers interlock.]

I haven't found the words yet.

[Or maybe he knows the words but he doesn't know how to put them together into anything meaningful.]

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul suppresses a twitch under Kaworu's passing thumb; he pushes down the urge to grip tighter, startled and pleased. It's not the first time Kaworu has mirrored back that particular quirk of affection, but -

He didn't know how much he liked being echoed. He didn't know he liked this. There's a trace of that surprise in his glance at Kaworu, a surprise radiating inward and outward.]

Of course I'll keep it. After all this?

[Impulsively, he reaches out to set two fingers under Kaworu's jaw, tilting it up and towards him gently. The gesture feels familiar, even though he's never done it before. (Silhouettes in a doorway, talking quietly, thinking him asleep.)]

Take your time. I'm not in a rush.

[He draws his fingers back and finds his face a little further flushed, which must mean he's processing the alcohol, which must mean -]

We should get some more drinks. What are you having?

[peripheries]

I. Uh. Alright.

[Are the stupid words that Kaworu manages to spit out as Paul takes his jaw in gentle fingers and tilts until their eyes meet. His face is so hot. He's pretty sure that Paul can probably feel it even if he can't see it. It's not hot enough to burn him... right?

Does Paul know what he's doing?

Does Kaworu himself know? He thought he did. But now it seems like things have gone a bit past what he could control. And he likes it and he fears it. The thrill and terror of not knowing what might happen next. When Paul pulls away, Kaworu reaches up and gently presses his fingers to where Paul's had just been on his face as if trying to remember the sensation.]

Oh, uh. Tequila.

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul doesn't know what he's doing. His father was the romantic in the family, and even then, anything like this - so unstructured, so outside the realms of balanced power and formal arrangement - would have been out of the question. There are rules for this like there are for everything else. Paul isn't following any of them.

Instead, he follows the rising flush on Kaworu's cheeks with fascination, the spiking of his heartbeat a distant secondary observation. He follows the breathless tumbling syllables out of Kaworu's mouth.]

Come on, then. Let's do some applied theology. What are drunken angels like?

[He's tired of following the rules of a place he's not. He's tired of thinking everything out to its end. He's tired of knowing what will happen next, and he's tired of being wrong about what he knows.

So Paul pulls him towards the worm mural and the attendant shot passing skeleton, and he lets himself enjoy being surprised.]

[peripheries]

Is that what your study is about?

[Kaworu sputters incredulously but it collapses into a laugh as Paul pulls him towards a worm mural feeling nothing but warm and elated.

He'd spent the first few weeks of time with others trying to mold something out of the tenuous connections he'd had. If something had form, if it was defined, he'd thought, that meant it had more meaning. That there was power in conscious structure. But he'd worked with heavy hands and in the end, it all fell apart.

So, for now, he's content let himself and Paul be shapeless. And if something forms then... he'll protect that, just as he does the boy who is holding his hand so tightly.]

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul only smiles ambiguously at Kaworu's question, eyes shaded by long, dark lashes, the way he did in the tent a few minutes before teaching Kaworu his first wrestling move, and then fell asleep with his legs draped over his chest.

Kaworu asked if they were friends, and Paul had said of course, in half a dozen ways in a multiplicity of moments. Kaworu doesn't even have to ask out loud most of the time, anymore - he just looks at Paul in a certain way, and Paul looks back in another, and understanding is affirmed.

Are we friends? Paul asks himself, as they weave on slightly less than steady feet towards the next part of the night. Of course, and -

That's what the study is about. He has findings to make, conclusions to draw. A hypothesis to prove or disprove.]