Tony Stark (in_extremis) wrote in oh_marvelous, @ 2014-02-28 14:51:00 |
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Invicta
Characters: Open, multi-threads, everyone! Yes, you are invited.
Setting: Gansevoort Hotel, NYC, well into the night if you can party right
Content: A Tony Stark party. At least one girl will cry.
Summary: Happy birthday, Tony! After being an eccentric recluse for a year, he has a lot of catching up to do.
There didn't seem to be a beginning or end to this party; the rooms wove endlessly together, spilling from the pool on the patio down spiraling staircases into intimately narrow bars and lounges, red then blue then black punctuated with vibrant yellow, each feeling like a tight, private affair where the mood shifted at every door with every colour and subtle change of the music's beat. The food and drink was just as bountiful, cycling every half hour with an arrangement of h'ors d'oeuvres and special cocktails offered to anyone in the wasteland five whole feet from the bar and buffet. Tony was doing this one right, and almost entirely without Pepper's help (okay, he couldn't get through most daily functions without Pepper's help, but he really made an effort here). There was a lot to celebrate.
He was another year older, for starters, which was enough to get all of these near strangers out on this frigid winter night. It was kind of a big deal. Definitely not a year worth celebrating, rather obliterating with copious amounts of alcohol (but one of the few high points Tony could name was not falling down that rabbit hole again, against the odds, and now that things were looking up, it would be a shame to start again. Even if the Bellinis looked worth breaking hearts for), but survival was due a hearty toast at least, with a generous muddle of optimism and a sour garnish of schadenfreude. Survival like Happy's and Pepper's, though one couldn't be here with them-- not that it was really Happy's scene, if they were in the spirit of optimism-- but still here, and a hero in a class of his own. Donations in place of gifts went toward Happy's care and recovery and the Maria Stark Foundation, and Tony had his own gift of being deviously persuasive. By this time next year they would have forgotten already to celebrate Happy's return to top form, and he'd be muttering uncomfortably to his drink in the corner. As Tony slipped onto the poolside stage, coaxing Kate up behind him and bowing graciously to Radiohead to apologize for the interruption (okay, he wasn't sorry at all, he was taking a guitar), he kept his hand over his heart, a loose hold around his tie and the chain under his shirt that didn't cling anymore to his magnetized chest. "Like riding a bike, right?" was all he had to say to the guests who had noticed the change, and gestured to Kate to warm him up with a little call and answer, they could do this, they were going to kickstart this boring little tea party. Those glittering girls behind the glass had hardly worked up a sweat, not a single bra was floating in that pool yet and Tony hadn't walked in on anything that he couldn't find in a church. What a disappointment. Tony wasn't used to being on stage for very long without on onslaught of applause, so he gave his commandeered band a stomping tempo within a few seconds and played them in with a familiar riff, watching Kate expectantly to, come on, not let him down, she knew this one, how old was she?, as he stepped up to the mic again to purr, "Your own...personal Jesus." There was his adulation. There wasn't a better gift in the world.
Downstairs, the change was subtle; just a new rotation of cocktails, and a group came spilling out of the photo lounge in stitches, spilling champagne and carrying stilettos, a cloud of feathers and crepe sighing after them. "Did I see a game room?" one of them shouted over the thump of the music, "Or was that a gym?" In peels of laughter, they stumbled their way to the stairs.