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

[lipochrome]

[ Gideon skips over Paul's first question in favor of his second. She leans in close, her expression all seriousness, her voice a grave stage whisper. ]

You have five entire bones.

[ With that, Gideon leans back and grins, stupidly, because if she doesn't make a joke with every other sentence, she'll die! ]

I can't tell right now. [ duh ] Maybe I need some more to drink? Or more of that spice stuff. I was able to see some weird shit at Canaan House. Maybe there were drugs in the water.

[ that might explain some things. ]

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul's face screws up with a momentarily and futile effort not to laugh, an expression that makes him resemble a cross between a distressed frog and a folded sock puppet. When he finally gives in, there is a distinct snorting resonance to it he tries to muffle behind his fingers.]

I deserved that. Also, shut up. I have more than that.

[Unless they're getting into nuances of who the bones in his body belong to, and whether their base nature as squid has any bearing on the question. Would his ears stay pierced if they turned into fins, and how much does the inner shell of a squid count as a bone? These are the kinds of problems that a person runs into with magic.]

And that old place? Maybe. Or environmental contamination. Certain fungi can cause hallucinations. [He has his hands up, gesturing with splayed fingers.] What did you see, though?

[lipochrome]

[ Every day I wake up and wish Gideon Nav knew who Kermit the frog is!!! Someday......... ]

Oh, you're right, my bad. I miscounted. You've got eight. [ Paul's attempt to rein in his laughter just makes Gideon grin wider, thoroughly enjoying herself. ]

Nah, man, I don't think it was the fungi. I never had hallucinations on the Ninth, and we had all kind of fucked-up darkness bacteria growing there.

[ Gideon traces an outline in the air around Paul's hands, demonstrating.....something. ]

It was kinda glowy. Like an aura. I think it had something to do with all the weird necromancy trials we had to do. You would've liked Canaan House, it was all competitive research and salads.

[terriblepurpose]

['Competitive research and salads' has Paul so correctly pigeon holed he has no choice but to draw his foot up and very slowly kick out at Gideon's knee, his concentration focused on sinking his socked heel into the notch just behind and beside her kneecap.]

I didn't like it. It looked terrible.

[It's only after he speaks that he realizes he's never told Gideon about seeing it in Palamedes' memories, not in so many words. He frowns slightly, but - it's fine, if she's talking about it. He's sure it is. Still.]

Just the dinner. During Winter Mournings, with Palamedes. None of the 'weird necromancy trials'. [Or anything else.] That does sound like magic. The auras. Maybe it was easier to see there, because of...echoes.

[lipochrome]

[ If Gideon was any less blissed-out, she might be a little distressed at the idea of Paul seeing Canaan House through Palamedes' memories, which are definitely not positive. Here, though, she just ruffles Paul's hair in response to that socked heel, which is an excellent tactic every time. ]

It wasn't so bad, actually. Before the murders. [ what ] I got to eat a dessert. Do you know how many times Harrow puts on her paint and then takes it off and then puts it back on again before going to a party? Lots.

[ please hold, Gideon is thinking about Harrow for a bit.

But oh, right, magic. That stuff. ]

Maybe. Maybe Canaan House was - [ Gideon wiggles her fingers, all spooky. ] - haunted. OooOOOooh. The ghosts of necromantic transgressions of yore, coming back to settle a score by kicking the absolute shit out of a bunch of moody, nerdy teenagers.

[terriblepurpose]

[The spice is an undeniable factor in how Paul is able to accept before the murders and all the implications that follow without being sidetracked into distress, but there's more to it than that. He's getting better at managing his internal responses to things like this, knowing when a strong response is called for, and when he should just lean into the tousling of his hair in silent camaraderie.

She knows he understands about befores. They're both full of them.]

It seemed like she was taking a long time to get ready.

[Said by the boy who put on and took off his eyeliner three times, and don't ask him about how long it took to choose between nearly identical black pants.]

If anywhere would be haunted [crumbling halls, a papered over room] I'd think it would be there. I've never seen a place so... [he pulls a mild face] Like that.

[The way that she and Palamedes spoke about the Lyctor, she might as well have been an ancient revenant. But again, he's learning - how to touch a thing, and then look away from it.]

Did you have a chance to try the cake yet?

[lipochrome]

She took for-ever. So did you, you know.

[ Gideon says, fondly. She truly does live in a house full of weirdos, and she wouldn't have it any other way. ]

Eh, Canaan House was, like, mildly haunted. At best. You should see the Ninth. It's got at least two hundred ghosts haunting it.

[ Careful, Gideon. That's awfully close to a secret. Fortunately, Paul asks about the cake, and Gideon's intoxicated brain immediately forgets about the, you know, bad events. ]

I did. Best [ and only ] cake I've ever had. Did you make it?

[terriblepurpose]

[The specificity of the number draws some attention to itself, but only so much that he notes it, because that's what he does with details. Details like Gideon's love of sweet things, and her lack of exposure to them, which to Paul is more significant than any number of ghosts.

He beams at her, shifting closer with a nod.]

It's called angel food cake. For when I thought this party was for-

[He flutters his hands, and then remembers that Gideon can read his mind as well as she can count his bones.]

Kaworu. It took some tries. The first ones were wet inside, and the next ones were burned. I hope cakes don't have ghosts. [Now, to loop back to scurrilous accusations:] And I didn't take that long, and even if I did, I think the results are well worth it.

[lipochrome]

[ A sober Gideon would have a difficult time not laughing at wet inside. A spiced Gideon has absolutely no chance, and it's her turn to look like a weird sock puppet as she tries and fails to hold back a snort. ]

Cakes can't have ghosts because ghosts don't eat anything. [ obviously. ] I think.

[ but this is serious business! it seems like Paul is asking Gideon to rate his fit, which she surveys with what she thinks is a very serious expression but is actually an extremely dopey one. ]

Honestly, yeah. You clean up good. The eyeliner's messy enough to be Nine Houses, but not enough to be, like, stupid.

[ that's a fine line! ]

You look like you could be my tiny younger brother.

[ This is something that Gideon would only say after achieving a state of maximum blissed-outness, which, for better or for worse, she has achieved. It doesn't even strike her as a weird thing to say -- she's just calling it like she sees it, after all. ]

[terriblepurpose]

[Putting together what's funny about wet cake takes Paul another blinking second in the face of Gideon's sputtering snort, but when it connects he digs his heel reproachfully against her knee, biting back a snigger of his own.

The first compliment makes him grin with the smug glee of someone being indulged; the second connects between his eyes like a good, stiff knuckle blow, but without any of the pain. It just stuns him, leaves him spinning and off-balance, falling into a soft, engulfing warmth like a freshly turned down bed.]

Yeah?

[What's meant to be casual turns into a half-split upward flick of inflection, his voice cracking like it hasn't in months. He swallows hard with flushing cheeks, but he's not truly embarrassed.]

Thanks. [He's markedly informal, slipping into a tonal register and grammatical structure that's reserved for - well.] That's high praise coming from the coolest looking person in the house.

[He can't help himself. He slides closer and loops an arm over her shoulder, squeezing her in a half-hug.]

[lipochrome]

It is. You should be proud of yourself.

[ Gideon agrees, because she is the coolest-looking person in the house, thank you very much!

The grammar might not translate exactly to Gideon's language, but the sentiment does, and the hug doesn't need any translation to begin with. Gideon's chest feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the spice or tequila, a warmth that will last well into her first-ever hangover. Gideon squeezes back, sliding her arm under Paul's and across his back. ]

We're like... in the comics. When people match. [ Gideon snaps her fingers, as if this will help her remember. ] A squad.

/wrap for the bone squad?

[terriblepurpose]

[A squad. Comrades-in-arms. Paul always imagined he'd have his own, one day, a band of people who would fight at his side, whose triumphs and defeats he'd share in, separate from the legacy granted him as the next in line to inherit a House of warriors.

He lets his eyes fall closed. Lets her tell him to be proud of himself, even in something as inconsequential as this, and takes a deep, slow breath like the spring winds, rustling all the new-growing things.]

Yes. [He settles into her side, pleasantly drifting.] You'll have to teach me more bone jokes, though. I can't let down the squad.

/wrap!

[lipochrome]

Exactly. Boning is super serious.

[ And there's another bone joke for you, Paul. It's horrible.

Throughout the night, Gideon will tell Paul several bone-related jokes of a similar caliber, and she'll even add a challenge: if he can make Harrow laugh with one of them, she'll give him twenty "Trenchbucks." Good thing this is very hard to do, because Gideon still needs to figure out what counts as a Trenchbuck.

She doesn't really think about anything deeper, because she doesn't have to. Gideon simply relishes in the comfort of this night, this home, this squad, and that's more than enough for her. ]