deercountry | Birthday Party

Birthday Party

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

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[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.

[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?

[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....

[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?

[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. ]

[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.]

[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.

[Paul clasps Oscar's hand readily. The touch feels like two wires connecting via an arc, although again, Paul isn't certain whether the sensation is real or imagined on his part. It doesn't matter. What does is providing the branch that Oscar is reaching for from the flood of his memories.]

I'll look out for her.

[He nods, taking the request seriously. It costs him nothing, and it's not as though it's a lie. He's always on watch for danger. That's why a question comes to him slowly, his brows drawing lightly together as his thought catch on something.]

...what do you mean by 'wouldn't be here'?

.....You're alive.

[He gripped those hands firmly, as if seeking a solid anchor in the endless sea that he was floating in while being inexorably drawn halfway towards the moon. Oscar was finding it hard to simply stay in his body-- but those hands, that gesture, was enough for the moment.]

Another person would have met their fate many times by now. You're alive. That's because of you're... you.

[That hits closer to the heart than Paul cares for. It sobers him like little else has done, his hand tightening in a twitch around Oscar's as his eyes shutter in their regard. He looks far removed from where they sit, as if his eyes are lit by a foreign sun.

(Grief is a brack water dredge under the moon, a tidal rhythm he still hasn't mastered.)]

Yes. [He sets his focus on their clasped hands.] Fate follows at my heels, and never catches up to me. I see -

Never mind. So are you. Alive, I mean. So that counts for something, doesn't it? That's not so bad.

['Alive' only meant so much when the parts of him that knew what death felt like hundreds of times over were close enough to touch and hold. Oscar had always hesitated to venture too deeply into the parts of his mind that were shared with the others. The interminable ticking at times was almost deafening, and he had no desire to risk losing himself yet.

...Like he was walking the edge of now.]

I guess, [he said in a non-commital way, longing for his bed and a quiet refuge.]

Are any of us alive. Are we still out dreaming in the ocean? Are we back in our homes dreaming of all of this?

It's hard to tell.

[This is, despite the nebulous nature of the topic under discussion, firmer ground. Paul relaxes his hold and settles back into relaxation against the couch. He'd typically be thinking of letting go soon, but under the influence of spice (and everything else) the contact feels natural.]

...what if it is like that?

[He rolls his head back and examines a dark crack in the plastered ceiling.]

Does it make a difference to you when you're in a dream that it's a dream? Did it make a difference? The way you all talk about the dream before this world...did all of the things that happened there matter less, just because it wasn't real?

No... It didn't.

[He had become a better version of himself in the Dream. He had made peace with the Wizard that had walked before him, he had found a boyfriend. These were things that he couldn't just write off.

These were experiences that he wanted to hold onto for the rest of his life.]

Sorry. My head just-- feels weird. 's hard to think.

[Given a symptom, Paul sits up again, the swimming of his own head dismissed as he casts around the room and waves over a skeleton circulating the party with a tray of drinks.]

No, I'm sorry - I shouldn't be bothering you with thoughts like that. Here.

[He squeezes Oscar's hand before finally letting go, plucking a glass of water from the selection and offering it to Oscar.]

See if you can keep this down, all right?

[With trembling hands that felt barely connected to his body, he reached for the glass and held it in both hands like a child. Moving carefully, he took tiny sips at it. Without a full grasp of where his body was in space, he needed to be that careful.]

...Thank you.

[He said quietly, looking for a moment more like a kid who was out of his depth than he usually seemed to be.]

[Caring for other people like this is something that's new to Paul, and he's never entirely sure he's doing it correctly until he sees the results. It would be fair to say that he hovers at Oscar's side as he sips, watching the process with uncommon focus, and his relief and slight flustration at Oscar's thanks is all but palpable.]

It's nothing.

[He waves his hand, sweeping clean an invisible ledger, shaking his head as if it needs even more emphasis than that. He chews the inside of his lip for a beat, and adds a further amendment.]

Besides. I should have warned people better, I think.

Warned.... of what?

[The water was helping somewhat, but his limbs still felt heavy and his mind felt disconnected. Brows furrowing, he struggled to focus on both Paul and the water cup at the same time.]

It's just... it's just pot, right? That's what kids normally have at parties.

[As if, you know, he wasn't one of the youngest people there at not even quite sixteen yet.]

[Paul takes another moment to process that, his own thoughts a swirl.]

That's what's normal at parties?

[That's not the point, but it's worth noting for the next time that a party comes around. He doesn't want to defy expectations. He may need to ask Peter to assist with further supplies next time.]

But no. You took the spice, didn't you? It's not...like that. It's psychogenic. More mind altering, I think.

I... I had a brownie.

[Oscar up stared at Paul blearily over his water, resting his lips against the rim so he could take tiny sips more easily without the added burden of movement within his body.]

Parties weren't a thing I did back home. Not enough people around to do them often outside town...

[Oh.]

...it must have been a mistake. [He says, so quietly it's almost as if he means it for himself, a shutter of disquiet drawn across his expression.] You shouldn't have been-

Spice is a drug from my universe. From a planet called Arrakis. It enhances perception. Sometimes past what's comforting. It will pass in a few hours.

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Birthday Party

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