capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: ERIDAN AMPORA and ZATANNA ZATARA and THEIR VERY UNFORTUNATE GUESTS.
WHERE: a creepy ~~rose red~~ house on the edge of the city.
WHEN: 11/5.
WARNINGS: fakemurder. gore. trauma. misery. mystery!!!
SUMMARY: since eridan spent the entirety of halloween wweepin and eating stale sugar cookies in his basement leah, he and zee throw a belated halloween party!! BAD THINGS HAPPEN.
FORMAT: ANYTHING GOES.

[the house - it's more of a miniature mansion, really, and incredibly creepy - is just far enough from the city's limits to be quiet. sprawling, dark, and eerie; it's kind of like a cross between rose red and dracula's summer home, which is at least half of the reason why it was chosen. maybe two-thirds.

inside the decorations are done up in lush reds and the occasional streaks of violet; the kitchen is full of food and refreshments, the main hall is decked out, the music is pumping, and the hosts will no doubt be more than happy to tell everyone all about how they heard a rumor from a friend of a cousin of the realtor that like a quintuple murder totally happened in the attic or something (or one of them will, at least). rooms beyond the immediate party area (a host of ground level rooms and anything upstairs, basically) haven't exactly been blocked off, but they're also visibly not as touched up and may or may not be haunted.

well, there's a definite risk. the place is creepy as hell.

doors open at eight-thirty (just to spite vriska). get in there!!

(DIRECT QUESTIONS AND CLARIFICATIONS RIGHT HURR.) ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Really? [ That heavy disbelief in his voice is accompanied with, maybe, a note of relief―his shoulders fall down a little, less tense. She's obviously just an ill-disguised sensitive woman who's obviously not secretly callous or wicked, or anything.

How nice. ]

Y'don't speak t'me as someone who's more a' the "Jolly Christmas" type.

Another ritualistic, annual genocide, wrapped up in Christian dogma. I'll pass.

[There is not a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She sounds very, very serious.]

[ A long, long pause.

He's probably just having one of those strange auditory hallucinations again, because― ]

Are we talkin' about the same holiday between sorta-like universes? 'Cuz, aaah. That's sorta crazy.

Do you even realize how many innocent firs and pines are cruelly slaughtered each year to be trussed up and left to rot in some thoughtless human's living room?

[VERY

VERY

SERIOUS]

[ She's just being deadpan, right? Humor is hard, sometimes.

Scratching at the back of his neck, he gives a stilted chuckle. ]

W-well. That's what them filthy trees get, yeah? Waitin' around t'get killed by people.

[A beat passes.]

What did you just say.

[It is at this time that something seems to push past the cuffs of her sleeves. They're vines, small ones but vines nonetheless, and they seem to be darting out to grab his arm...]

Haha? I mean, trees're―

[ It's only mid-sentence that he's noticing the pretty unpleasant sensation of those vines wrapping tightly around his forearm. And. He freezes, mouth open to say something coherent and coming up with nothing. ]

N-nothin', I. I don't... know.

Of course you don't. [The vines jerk backward suddenly before releasing him, returning under her sleeves.]

Now, I'm sure that, in the future, you'll actually use what you laughably call a brain and think before you insult my children again, won't you.

Children?

[ He's rubbing at the area where they grabbed at him, attempting to gain composure in the face of. Whatever.

Yeah, he should probably be briskly walking away by now. ]

Y'... are y'Mother Nature?

I'm Poison Ivy. [She says this as if, clearly, he should know who she is.]

[ weakly, and he's still shaken up: ]

Is that what you're goin' by these days?

For more than a few years. [She seems amused.] Did I frighten you?