Going to a Dead Man's Party, Pt 2 Who: EVERYONE. What: The CASKET party gets a little weird... Where:CASKET When: 9 pm sharp; October 30th, 2011. Warnings: Let your deity flag fly! Just not all the way. Remember, no full transformations. Let appearances change, powers fluxtuate, whatever you like! This will continue on through the rest of the night, or until your characters leave the building. The moment they set foot outside of CASKET, they will snap back to normal.
Again, please label where your character is located, and let’s have everyone practice their best internet etiquette!
Everybody's comin', leave your body at the door / Leave your body and soul at the door...
Julian stepped into his office for a moment of peace. Things weren’t that out of hand - no, not compared to some escapades that had occurred on the premises in past years. Taking a moment to clear his head, the door shut firmly on all the boisterous sounds of the party and muffled them securely. The paint on his face was starting to run a little, shifting due to the sweat that appeared from the heat of a room full of bodies. He did have to congratulate himself on the success of his party; the attendance for this year rivaled any of those past, and tonight would undoubtedly prove incredibly successful for both the club and himself for weeks to come. Word of mouth had always been CASKET’s best advertisement, and elaborate parties like this were like fluorescent-light strewn billboards in the dark.
Through the walls beat the bass of another Crypt Keeper Five melody, subtly making them vibrate in time with the rhythm. Pulling off one glove and putting a hand to his forehead, he carefully wiped at it with gentle fingertips, knowing well that he was likely smearing the make-up and trying to do so with the most minimal of damage. His fingers felt...odd. Almost like he was scratching at his face with his nails, which would prove worse for his costume, and he brought down the hand, trying to understand what he was doing to himself. The surprise that greeted him caused him to stumble backward away from his own appendage, which followed him like a loving puppy - no flesh appeared, nothing to cover the bony extrusions that suddenly were his fingers. The sleeve of his suit flopped around his arm, hinting at the idea that the frame work of his body was left exposed in more than one spot.
Jerking open a desk drawer, he pulled up a mirror and dropped it upon seeing his own reflection. Therein he’d not seen a man full of pride for his accomplishments; no, he’d only seen a skull, its hollow eyes lined by the leftovers of his white, black and blue make up. Was he hallucinating? Had someone slipped something into one of his drinks? Julian could only imagine what was going on, and if someone had sabotaged the liquor, he could only imagine what was beginning to go on in the main room of the club. Glass crunching under one dress shoe, he hurried back to his office door and pulled it open wide to see the chaos that was surely presenting itself - he was immediately greeted by shouts of welcome, and it took him a few moments to realize that everyone thought he was an elaborate Halloween prop. Taking the suggestion for what it was, he waded through the crowd in order to see if he was the only one being affected.
That is, until an errant arm sent his skull flying like a beach ball over the crowd.