The House was Awake with Shadows and Monsters [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

This might not be the first time a given dreamer has found themselves at a fancy party in a large mansion, and dressed in something they wouldn't typically wear. If the architecture is more gothic than usual, well, that could just be a coincidence… but it's probably no coincidence that the dreamers are all wearing Halloween costumes that they decidedly did not pick themselves. 'Tis the season! They might look fancy, they might look slapdash; either way, it shouldn't be too difficult for the dreamers to figure out who - or what - they're supposed to be.

The evening's festivities are centered around a grand ballroom. Music is emanating from somewhere or other, and numerous chandeliers are aglow with warm candlelight. Tables line the perimeter, and they're piled with seasonal snacks and bowls of punch. If dancing isn't your thing, there's a whole mansion and extensive grounds to explore.

Those who venture forth will notice that the farther they wander from the party, the less friendly things seem. Tidy rooms with fires in the hearths will give way to dark, dusty corridors and neglected spaces. Manicured lawns grow into tangled hedges. As the music fades out of earshot, the house's settling groans and the hiss of the wind through the ivy will be impossible to ignore.

(It was just the house, wasn't it? Sure it was. It was probably your own footsteps that made that floorboard creak, too. And that rustle on the other side of the hedge was just a rabbit.)

All things considered, it might be more comfortable to just stay in the ballroom, where it's warm and cheerful and there are plenty of snacks. A note about the snacks, though: the dreamers will find that the more punch they consume, the more their own identities seem to fade away in favor of a persona more in line with their costumes. A dreamer dressed as a tiger might find themselves inclined to hide behind a curtain and pounce on passersby. A dreamer dressed as a mummy might adopt a stiff-legged gait and dole out a curse or two. A dreamer dressed as a robot might start speaking binary.

At least no one will actually turn into anything. That would just be embarrassing.

The good news is that eating any of the available food will counteract the punch's effects, so it's possible to have a fine time and still keep ahold of yourself. But what's the fun in that?


[ooc: the usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, whether they've been apped to the game or not. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Any punch-drinking dreamers will take on the personality characteristics - and potentially the magical/supernatural capabilities - of whatever or whoever they're dressed as, though their physical appearance will remain the same.]

Comments

[ecks]

It's exactly what it sounds like and it's really gross.

She stands staring at his outstretched hand, then glances down at her own hand, then back at his expectantly. "Is this a form of contract?" she asks, recalling suddenly that her book does not include rules about contracts. She should write a section on it. "What do I do with it?"

[worth_it]

He feels a twinge of exasperation - he'd forgotten, caught up in the moment as he was, that he's dealing with a true simpleton. Worse than Crabbe and Goyle, in that way. But Crabbe and Goyle aren't here, and inconvenient times call for inconvenient measures.

"It's a special wizard contract," he explains loftily. "Just spit into your hand and hold it out, and let me do the talking." She does so, to his satisfaction, and Draco gives her hand a squelchy clasp and adopts an even more pompous tone. "I promise not to ask you to steal any faces, provided you are otherwise obedient to my commands."

He lets his voice lapse back into a more normal register and explains, "Now you promise to obey my orders so long as they don't involve face stealing, and we'll have a bargain."

[ecks]

Privately Ecks wonders if there is some magic to be done here that it should require saliva, but the ritual he enacts doesn't seem particularly magical. Anyway, he has been quite reasonable about agreeing to limit the scope of his power, and this all seems quite legal and aboveboard to her.

"I promise to obey your orders so long as they don't involve face stealing," she agrees solemnly.

[worth_it]

Draco maintains his grave exterior for the time it takes to extract his hand and wipe his palm on his trousers. Then, his face splits into a wide, giddy grin. He has an imposing moron at his beck and call, just like old times!

"Right," he says, breathless with excitement. "Now pick me up so I can ride about on your shoulders!" He lifts his arms - let no one say he's making her do all the work - and bounces on his heels.

[ecks]

Ecks waits and watches to see if she is expected to do anything else in particular with the saliva, but it appears that once the contract has been executed it is acceptable to wipe it away. She digs through her pockets for a handkerchief but finds none, and is reduced to imitating her new...employer. "This contract is unsanitary," she mutters to herself.

Getting him onto her shoulders presents something of a challenge, but a moment's thought about weight distribution and leverage is enough for her to think her way around how to wrangle him up there. As he did not specify how he would like to be carried on her shoulders, she opts for the most efficient method available and hefts him across her shoulders. "Now what?" she asks.

[worth_it]

This is definitely not what Draco had in mind, but then again, Goyle needed some instruction on proper carrying, as well. Now that he's up here, it shouldn't be too hard for him to rearrange himself into a more comfortable configuration.

"Wait," he says with a rather impressive amount of gravity, all things considered. It takes some awkward wriggling, but eventually Draco manages to get himself situated sitting astride Ecks's shoulders, his hands braced on the top of her head. "That's better. Now..." he points forward with theatrical flair, "onward!"

[ecks]

Ecks's knees tremble a bit and she has to fight to keep her shoulders level as the boy squirms about on top of them, but she patiently waits as she's been told while he sorts himself out. It's a little more comfortable to reach up and hold onto his shins and keep his weight pulled forward, and he hasn't told her not to, so she does so. For a moment she's not entirely sure she'll be able to obey the next command, but with a little effort she manages to put one foot in front of the other, and then again, and then they're moving along quite briskly, all things considered.

"...What is your name?" she asks belatedly.

[worth_it]

"My name?" Draco straightens his spine, thinks better of it, and resumes hunching forward a little to better balance himself. "... Is Draco Malfoy," he concludes. "I am the greatest wizard at Hogwarts, and the most graceful dancer in this room, and you," he gives her head a pat, "are my new best friend."