Logs:Psycho/pomp

Psycho/pomp
Dramatis Personae Ion, Polaris	Ryan's birthday "You are wild, you know that?"
Location <NYC> St. Bartholomew's Church - Midtown
The nave of this immense cathedral has been emptied of pews to make way for a sea of colorfully dressed humanity, congregating here and there around tables or sculptural displays of flowers in various media. Though not at the alter itself, the guest of honor at this party is seated up in the sanctuary, but here beneath the elaborate rose window of the southern transept, that may as well be on another planet. There is plenty of party in between, with waiters circulating dressed as various mythological psychopomps. One made up as Anubis is gliding by wearing an exquisitely crafted black jackal headdress and caterer's black tie. The celebrants themselves are in a variety of palettes and styles, from pastel to metallic, often with gothic design touches. Polaris is definitely on the glam side of the spectrum tonight, resplendent in metallic green and gunmetal. Her green satin corset top matches her leaf green hair and the green tights beneath her black fishnet thigh-highs, while her skirt is a floof of silver tulle, not as tight as a tutu but the heading in a similar direction. Her boots, belt, and cuffs are all silver pleather with copious steel hardware, and her make-up and nails are in green-purple metallic duochrome with silver highlights. She's on on her third drink tonight, not counting the generous pre-gaming she did before even arriving, and is currently eyeing the centerpiece at a standing table. It looks like a bouquet of flowers, but upon closer examination, each bloom is meticulously sculpted from a different fruit. She raises her highball glass full of whatever that green elixir is and takes a long sip. Ion has been a little bit of everywhere, tonight, an excited bright flit-flit-FLIT who seems equally as enthused at spending time with the birthday boy as with the waitstaff who circulate in their fantastical outfits. His own outfit -- can hardly be called that; it looks maaaybe kinda like he googled "goth" and decided he'd take one of everything. There's little rhyme or reason to the assortment of items he wears. Metallic blue tophat with a silver band perched atop freshly colored hair (iridescent black and streaked with UV-reactive blue-white). Elegant green and black brocade vest with silver accents -- worn open over his bare chest, it is easy to see both the wealth of tattoos of very variable quality and the branching fractal scarring that webs much of his torso. Black jeans so tight they seem half painted on, laced up the sides in red ribbon, metallic black fishnets underneath. Knee-high, extremely stompy gold-buckled boots. A brown leather purse with a celtic knotwork pentagram on the large front flap, painted in bright rainbow colors. A green leather masquerade mask with accenting shiny iridescent black rooster feathers. Large dangling gold ankh earrings. An elaborate breastplate necklace made out of many small bones. All together it's kind of a collection of visual noise topped off with (extremely skillfully applied) black and silver makeup painted over Ion's ear to ear grin. He's descending on Polaris, beaming BRIGHT as he holds up one wrist to show a clunky metallic wrist-cuff. "Ey? Ey? Really tie it together, huh? Bam." He taps the cuff -- thunk thunk! Against the side of the table before he hops up to perch on its edge. "Shit though you own this theme, huh? Born for it." Whatever Polaris had been expecting when he lent Ion those cuffs, it was probably not this phenomenon, at least to judge by how wide her hazel eyes go upon spotting him. "Holy sh--carp!" she sputters. "Where did you get--" She waves her empty hand at--all of Ion. "--this?! I may be owning this theme but you are the theme, like. Personified." She smiles wide, shaking her head. "You having fun? I lost my crew somewhere and I keep running into famous people. Come to think of it, there's probably also lots of people who are supposed to be famous but I don't know. I kinda wanna eat this flower display," comes the sudden non-sequitur, "do you think that's a party foul?" "Yeah?" Ion bounces where he sits, hands clapping together gleefully at Polaris's judgment on his outfit. "I ask for help, this --" He waves towards his attire, "this a community effort. Tell friends hit me with your best gothy shit and well! I got the best fucking friends. All you!" He claps a hand on Polaris's shoulder with a small pop. Drops it, reaches over to pluck a couple pomegranate arils from the pistil of one of the display flowers and examine it intently. "That's how they get you, yeah? Worse places to spend some time, though." He holds his hand out, the deep red fruits nestled in his palm. "Yeah you do!" Polaris agrees enthusiastically, jumping at the electrical shock that comes with Ion's touch. She laughs, clear and bright, when he just starts pulling the "flowers" apart, accepting the pomegranate when offered. "You are wild, you know that?" She pops the arils into her mouth and spins around once on her heel. "You and this whole party, though. You don't even have a drink! Do you want a drink? We can find you one, we just gotta flag down one of those uh, death gods or whatever." "Been told." Ion hops back down off the table, wiping his palm against his pants. "Them things?" Ion's eyes track the path of a passing server, elaborate raven-head mask and black-feathered outfit. "Matt say they like. For taking souls after death? He call them some other shits," Ion's voice is dropping to confide this earnestly, "but last time I say the same-ass-thing Jax tell me s'rude." Back to his normal brash volume with the follow-up: "The fuck am I gonna tell him gimp ass to say and not say, though. You dying you say whatever the hell you want, huh? Oh! Yo, DEATH GOD!" He's hooking his arm through Polaris's, whisking them both off to hail a cowled skeletal reaper with a tray of drinks in ornately colorful glasses. Polaris has, in the meantime, drained her drink and left the empty glass on the table, snagging a pink dragonfruit petal off of one of the display's tulips. "I'm sure he had a good reason to call them...what did he call them?" She sounds just a bit uncertain about asking this, popping the fruit into her mouth. She goes quite easily when Ion draws her along when he goes to fetch a drink, and picks one up for herself, too. "Thanks!" she tells Death brightly. Then, to Ion. "Oh hey, did you see there's dancing? Back in the middle, I think." She's started towing him now, and only after they've started moving does she ask, "You wanna dance?" "Psycho!" Ion's loud-crowed answer sounds more triumphant than aghast. "Legit this shit is mad. All his parties. Guess it fits our whole-ass life, yeah?" He lifts his cheerfully pink drink in thanks to the server -- then salute to Polaris. Gulps a large swallow. "You, me, all us. Fucking --" Maybe he was about to expound about their own personal insanity as well, but -- easily derailed, he just sparks back into a broad grin. Downs another gulp of his drink, is swept along in Polaris's wake. "Hell yeah. Let's get crazy."