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

[possessum]

( Peter never would have expected the creepy skeleton house to have such a chill housemaid, but honestly?? She seems really easy to talk to.

(She's not.... really the maid, Peter....)

He closes his eyes even if they're already covered by the cloth, relishing the sweet relief of just lying back in darkness and not moving. He feels like one of his dad's patients lying back on the couch — or is that just a psychology stereotype? Peter had never actually ever been to see a psychiatrist, himself. )

And this place keeps forcing us to remember shit anyway, so... feels kind of moot to try and forget. ( He notes dryly. His lifelong method of "suppress what hurts!" really doesn't hold up in a place that can literally summon forth ghosts from your past. )

I guess 'everything' sounds pretty dramatic, but... feels like everything. ( The list of things he's trying to run from is so long, he's constantly tripping over it. But there are a few things that stand out, and while usually he's not the type to just share personal tidbits so freely, Peter is recently in a state of "fuck it, might as well." )

My girlfriend's Corrupted to hell and back, my best friend returned to the ocean and I'll probably never see him again, aaaand I'm possessed by this crazy demon who's making a pretty good life for itself here. ( He moves his hand around as he lists the items. )

...I'm remembering again why that spice stuff sounded so appealing.

[hauntedsavior]

[she doesn't stop cleaning while he goes over the litany of things he's dealing with, which of course isn't doing much to dispel the idea of her being a maid. but maybe she's doing that on purpose.]

Oh, cool, cool, love to hear it. [she's trying to be sincere and it is much easier than it should be. she's lost people to the ocean. her girlfriend's been corrupted, though by a different entity who isn't here, and thank god for that. and, well, she's got another soul riding shotgun inside her, though she wouldn't call her a demon by any stretch.]

Three for three on my end, if you're real liberal with some of your definitions. It really does feel like it's everything, sometimes. All at once. Real easy to give in and just start drinking and doing space drugs to make it all go away. [she comes over a little closer and leans over the back of the couch, putting weight on it that doesn't immediately match her frame.] Tell me more about your demon.

my slow butt hitting backtags, no worries if you prefer to let this go!!

[possessum]

( Wait— three for three?

Peter pauses at that, tensing just slightly at the implication. There's a moment he almost reaches up to remove the cloth and sit up, but he doesn't. He stays where he is, vision obscured, lying down. It's weirdly easier to talk like this, and after a moment he relaxes again. )

It's— not from here. From Trench, I mean. I got it back home.

( It's not that he can easily talk too much about this thing, but.... by now he's learned enough facts about the demon that he can at least relay them almost instinctively. Like pieces of his identity. I'm nineteen. I have black hair and brown eyes. I was sacrificed to a demon three years ago. )

He, I mean. He likes to be called he. He's some kind of king, and he's not always dangerous, but he can be. ( A beat. )

Is yours?

( Dangerous. )

[hauntedsavior]

[anna extends one of her arms to show more clearly the black metal that makes most of it up, then runs her hand roughly down it to show that it's not a glove or something like that.]

I used to think she was dangerous when she was turning my body into a timeshare. But as it turns out, she's not all that bad. We work together now. [she's speaking extremely casually about it, and when she's done the physical demonstration she leans a little over the couch.]

Like I said, though. You have to be real liberal with definitions. She's not a demon. Just the soul of an android from a dead world. But I picked her up back home, too, a few years ago. Changed my body... changed the whole way I look at the world. So it could be a worse deal.

[possessum]

( Work together. The concept that's been proposed to him more than once, especially here in this place that's so demanding in different ways than Deerington was. Dangerous in different ways. Peter's changing — they've all changed, are still changing, their blood, this world.... he's not the same.

To better adapt, to be able to survive here, he and the demon should work together. It's a concept Peter's not openly resisting the way he once used to, but it's still.... It still feels far away for him. )

How do you... work together? Do you share everything now, or... take turns?

( It's asked hesitantly, because he still doesn't want to pry, but he can't help voicing his curiosity. She has another soul in her, a whole other person. How do you live like that? How do you make it work, and not just feel like you're consistently losing what makes you, you? )

[hauntedsavior]

[no, anna doesn't have any problem answering that—well. the concept of answering the question is something she's fine with, at least. whether she'll be able to give a useful answer is something different.]

I mean. [if nothing else, she's casual about it.] It's kind of both of us in here all the time, you know? Can't separate each other. She practically rewired my brain and filled it up with memories and thoughts that aren't mine, and when she was still... I don't know, active? She kept giving me even more. [she's making it sound like it was some hostile takeover, but—well, hold on. it sort of was. but she just... tries to ignore that.]

And in return, I'm just trying to be a good vessel for her. Giving her a better ending than the absolutely dogshit one she got. But I know she'd rather be caught dead than admit that maybe she just wants someone to care about her for a second.

[possessum]

( Peter stiffens a little at that, some quiet tension that moves through him, makes everything feel too tight for a moment. He's sitting up a bit now, more propped up on his elbows than lying flat on his back on the sofa.

What she's laid out is a lot like his worst nightmare, regarding his own situation. That one day, he'll be... filled up. That there'll be less and less of him, and more and more of the demon, until.... until Peter is nothing.

But he's just quiet, listening from the rare perspective of someone whose situation does sound a lot like his, for all its differences, too. He knows... Paimon has suffered. He can't know the extent of it, or certain truths that have been kept hidden from both of them, but.... the demon was mishandled. Mistreated. What was done to him may never fully be undone. )

So you... don't mind? Just being her vessel? Her... place to live.

( It's not asked like a challenge; it's... sincere, soft, almost childlike. He knows it's his own role; Paimon even calls him that. "My Vessel", like a title. Peter's still trying to accept it. He wonders why these days, it's a little easier, and that scares him. )

You don't mind that it's your... role?

[hauntedsavior]

[ah. yeah, she's starting to understand the situation at hand a little better here. the first answer that comes to mind isn't the one she says, no matter how true "well, i have to be okay with it" is. she takes a brief break from cleaning things up to head over to the back of the couch and lean over it instead, folding her arms and looking over.]

I did to begin with. God, did I fucking ever. But... I don't know. I guess I got more and more used to the idea. Like, yeah, I'm a vessel, and so's a lot of people from the city I'm from. But I'm other things, too, you know? I make music. I know my way around tech support. I protect people. [a dumbstruck look flashes on her face.] I've got a girlfriend and we kick ass together. But, like, I don't know.

Being a vessel for A2, it's like... it's only part of who I am. I've got a lot of stuff going on for me. Letting myself be defined by just one thing, no matter how huge a thing that is? That's a one way ticket to feeling like total shit all day, every day. [she reaches down over the couch and picks up another stray beer bottle that got wedged between the back and the arm.] Ask me how I know.

[possessum]

( It's... weird, listening to someone else lay it all out like this. Something that touches upon pieces of his own feelings, his own situation, so closely. There was initially some kind of relief, and a curiosity that was just as desperate as it was tentative, but the more Peter listens to the young woman speak, the more something pushes tight and swollen up under his sternum.

Maybe because it is so personal, all of this. Maybe because of his state — dazed and loosened and a little sick from last night. Maybe because it aches to hear that someone else has gone through this. Maybe because he still isn't where she is with all of it, and he wishes he could be, could see it like that. Her words should give him some little dose of hope, and maybe on some level, they do. Later, when he's not rubbed raw, maybe he'll be able to see that. But right now something hitches in him harder, presses against the bruise too much; it hurts. His face is crumpling a little, enough to look upset. )

I feel like that now. Like... shit. All the time. Because I don't— I don't want this.

( The implications of her words are clear; 'ask me how I know'. She used to feel like that. She's tried to not feel like that. Found ways to have a better existence. And he's trying, and he does have good things, things to look forward to, somehow he has people he loves who loves him right back. But at the end of the day, he still can't look at himself in the mirror. )

I don't want to be like this. I feel like I'm fucking— trapped. Like everything I do, and everything I think about, is about... him. And it's never going to get any better. Because even if I can have my own life, he's there, and I didn't— I didn't want this.

( He pauses, something that feels self-conscious seeping in seconds too late, like he's said too much, and Peter reaches up to run his palm over his mouth. It's shaking, just a little. )

...Sorry.

[hauntedsavior]

[she stays there and lets him get it out, because god knows every word he's saying is something that she's thought at least some variation of in her time living alongside A2. when he apologizes, she slowly shakes her head.]

Don't worry about it. I didn't want it either, you know?

[back home, zee, her old boss... he'd wanted her to get therapy. she'd wanted to get therapy with him. but she'd never gotten the chance; she'd just procrastinated it the whole time, and then shit got weird about two years ago, and then six months ago she'd ended up here. so the advice she gives, she knows it's bad. she knows it's not going to be very useful unless it's applied the right way. but she's got just enough of a hangover and just enough skin in this game to think it's a good idea anyway.]

If it helps, you can think of it like trauma. Like when this happened? [she reaches up and lifts her eyepatch. there's no scarring under it, at least, but she does have an almost solid black glass eye underneath the patch. once she's sure he's gotten a look, she flips the eyepatch back down.] There was a hell of an adjustment period. Everything I did was a reminder that my life was different now, you know? Whether I was missing stuff when I went to pick it up or... [a shaky breath.] Or having nightmares of what happened when I lost it, night after night for weeks.

And it was the same thing when A2 moved in, you know? [switch the topic.] She got to my legs first, so I had to re-learn how to walk with legs that didn't quite sync up with the rest of my body yet. When she replaced my heart, I thought I was dying. I don't have a heartbeat anymore, so sometimes my brain still gets confused by that.

I guess what I'm getting at is, like. No matter how good I'm handling it now? It took a lot of work, a lot of getting used to it, and a lot of leaning on people until I was ready to accept it. [and she brings it back to the opening statement, and she does it with familiar weight to the words.] It's traumatic. All of it. Nobody let me apologize for being traumatized, and I'm not gonna let you do it either, dude.