Event | Sinbrilee | Bacchanal

[ironwood]

Characters: Any and all!
Date: August 24 - 30th
Location: Sinbrilee
Situation: An ancient festival of an ancient city, all are welcome at the Bacchanal!
Warnings/Rating: Please label threads as appropriate.

Death and destruction cannot curtail the single most important festival celebrated by the denizens of Sinbrilee: The Bacchanal! The ghosts in and about the city have begun to gossip about high fashion and festivities, sending any that inquire to the Amphitheatre -- a grand, circular structure nestled in the west side of the city.

This structure bore the fall of Sinbrilee and the wear of time with dignity, having lost handfuls of archways and one long stretch of wall to crumbling decay. Despite this, it is obvious that the amphitheatre once hosted many a display and every more festivities than the mind can grasp. This was their solace and safety; here is where the people of Sinbrilee came to find the mind's escape from all that threatened them and their great turtle.

Ghosts have been busy throughout the week, clearing paths through debris and hanging great cloth banners of soft blues and greens to disguise the more blatant signs of its decline. Many hundreds of them shimmer and slid through the area, providing for tables upon tables of food, offering drink, and overseeing competition of sport and skill (some even denying death's non-corporeal curse to enter).

Here, well... Here is where the party begins!

Food & Drink | Music, Discussions, & Dancing | Wrestling & Competitions

Comments

Dorian Gray; OTA

[depicted]

[Dancing]

[Dorian Gray has invited you to dance. Gender is irrelevant; so it species, as long as you have the necessary limbs. His only requirement is aesthetics. If you are beautiful or interesting or if Dorian likes you, then he will offer a hand and invite you out onto the dance floor. If you reject him, he may stay to flirt or talk (same thing). Perhaps surprisingly, Dorian Gray half enjoys being rejected.]

[Discussion]

[Dorian is mostly just here for the ride. He tries to steer the arguments towards subjects more interesting than politics, by which we mostly mean art, but he himself generally stays out of debate. In a century and then some, you get a reasonable grasp on content of most arguments. The real sport is in trying to find someone who can say something new.]

[passively]

[Ricardo has no idea how this conversation came to be. He thinks he was just asking what sort of festivities were there and commenting on the architecture around the city because for it being a completely different world they're definitely Greco-Roman and that's interesting. And it's nice, it's quite pretty to see them in the ocean like that.

So he casually comments on the architecture of the Woods Sector and his appreciation for how the architecture is melded into the nature of the area and how his friend will appreciate that a lot too. And compliment it a lot. It's a nice change from the other industrialized sectors as well as the urban city he grew up in.]

[depicted]

[Pro-nature? No. Dorian hesitates to turn a child towards the path of decadence because, even with his view on boundaries and comforts, he knows that some things really should just not be done. So.]

The contrast has its appeal, I suppose. Did you not have much chance to visit the country, back home?

[passively]

Hmm. I'm afraid not. I grew up on the outskirts of Chicago and my parents and grandfather never had the time off to go on vacations. [Or the interest.]

I believe the countryside would have a much different feel from the city with its tall buildings and dirty air. I think it would be nice to live there.

[depicted]

Ah, of course. [He wonders if it's the Chicago of wood or the one made of metal. Either way—] The countryside does have its beauty, an an abundance of space for solitude. It is, I admit, why I've never grown to care for it.

[passively]

There's plenty of opportunities for socializing, I'm sure, but each person definitely has his own preference. Are you from the city as well, then, sir?

[depicted]

I spend most of my time in London these days, but there was a time when I used to go down to the country at least once a year. [The reference to the social seasons of the kingdom's aristocrats is usually lost on contemporary audiences where such things have all but vanished, and Dorian waves it away.] But a visit to see the grass on the other side is always worthwhile—if only to see what grass is in person.

[passively]

Sounds like a vacation.

It's true. You don't get to see a whole lot of grass unless you go to the countryside...

[He pauses. He's not particularly social, but he'll have to be if he wants to gather information about here. He can't rely on Sham anymore.] Are all the sectors of the city like the Woods, or would I be right to assume that each sector follows a theme close to its name?

[depicted]

[Well it's a better topic change than trying not to insult nature too badly because he doesn't want to influence a ten year old.] More or less. Water has canals, metal is industrial—fire has a few flame lanterns, very pretty, and Earth is more by way of statues.

[passively]

[Rude. He's twelve.]

Flame lanterns.. I see.

Which one do you reside at, if you don't mind me asking?

[depicted]

And fountains. It's really quite pretty. [He likes the shiny.]

I'm in Fire Sector, as it happens.

[passively]

[Ricardo is glad that he hasn't run into Graham Specter yet and that it means he wouldn't. At least not for now because the man likely isn't here. God knows what would happen to those pretty fountains if that man caught sight of them. He'd want to take them apart.]

I can imagine that they would be.

... Well, thank you, sir...

I'm sorry, I never introduced myself. My name is Ricardo Russo.

[depicted]

Dorian Gray. [This child is odd, though. There's definitely something not-childish about him, and it . . . surprises Dorian. It catches him off-guard.] I hope you enjoy the aesthetics of the city. There is more wilderness beyond its outskirts, but it isn't exactly the scenic English countryside.

[cravats]

[Lyall chuckles and shakes his head in response to Dorian's offer of dancing.] I don't even know which of us would take the lead, my dear.

[depicted]

[Dorian lowers the hand, but only halfway.] I can dance either way to match you.

[cravats]

Well, I suppose there's no harm in trying something new. [And it's not like the people of Keeliai and the ghosts of Sinbrilee will judge them the way Victorian society folk would. He accepts the hand.]

[depicted]

[He feels the familiar shift to warmth and smiles with bright delight as he leads Lyall out.] That has always been my philosophy, or at least that the harm is worth the new experience. Should I be leading, or will you have me follow?

[cravats]

I'm not certain I'd know where to start with following. [He is, at times, utterly conventional.]

At least I won't have to concern myself with stepping on your train.

[depicted]

Oh, but you should be. [He speaks conspiratorially as he assumes position.] It's a ghost train, you see.

[cravats]

Oh, I see. I'll be careful, then- it's very rude to step on ghosts. [He chuckles and starts the dance, guiding Dorian easily.]

[depicted]

[And, as promised, Dorian follows easily and well. It isn't often that he has played the follow, but there have been enough times—1890 in a den in Whitechapel, 1926 at a party with the Fitzgeralds, here with Peggy—that he has no trouble doing so here.] These ones likely wouldn't notice. [He pauses a moment, but then decides to speak again. Lyall is one of few people here Dorian feels comfortable enough with to have a truly open conversation about the supernatural with him.] Are they anything like the ghosts where you're from? They aren't like the ones where I'm from at all, and I can't tell if they're a thing like the ghosts that were in Keeliai before my arrival.

[cravats]

I think they've survived much longer than the ghosts of my home ever could. Those only have coherency as long as their bodies are, ah, in a relatively intact condition. [He is very familiar with ghosts, of course- they make excellent agents for the BUR, though there are the limitations of how far they can travel and the length of time for which they are useful. Though BUR is quite capable of preserving the bodies to extend that length of time.] Other than that, they're not dissimilar- at least the ones who are aware they're dead and who can hold a conversation. What are your ghosts like?

[depicted]

Hungry.

[Dorian realizes that it's a terrible serious answer, and he laughs.] I'm sorry. That was a little much, wasn't it? I just mean that—they want things. They want what they've lost. And they will do anything, cut through anyone, to get it. They'll rip a living body to shreds just to get a message through . . . and all that limits them is a refusal or inability to move on.

[cravats]

It is a horrible thing to be trapped by the past. [He isn't trapped by it, but it does haunt him... especially with his experience in Death so recent. He has to look away for a moment.] I can understand the desperation, I suppose.

[He pushes the past away with an effort.] But really, Dorian, that was a very serious answer for such a night.

[depicted]

[He looks contrite.] I am sorry. [And on impulse, Dorian steals a quick kiss from Lyall.] Forgive me?