We'll Deck Your Halls (PARTY! Open)

[Maddison (DELETED 8452)]

Maddison offered a smile towards the woman that was dressed in the Christmas dress. It had taken the whole 'ugly Christmas sweater' to a whole new level. However, the woman played it off. Maddison wasn't exactly sure that she could pull something like that off. Even though, the blonde had been given some heat for not wearing one. It just wasn't a Christmas tradition that the blonde could get around. She didn't like them and she shouldn't be made to feel like crap because she didn't want to wear one.

Lincoln wasn't wearing one.

Robin steered Maddison toward the bar, but she had caught the wave he had made to another blonde. Did he have some affinity for blondes? Maddison raised a brow and it was explained. "I see." A spark of jealousy was not lost on the situation. She knew she could trust Robin, but the other blonde was just as attractive, if not more than herself.

A laugh was stifled as Robin ordered wine. Bad things had happened the last time they were at one of Lincoln's party and ordered red wine. "Oh, I'll just have a red wine, what your having is fine." The blonde sat herself on a bar stool next to his, hand moving to rest on his thigh. Though, she couldn't help but to tease him a little bit.

"Red wine huh? I'll try not to spill it."

[Elizabeth]

Elizabeth: Doc’s ensemble had Elizabeth’s bright blue eyes dancing in humor during her entire trip towards the male. When they were in the other’s proximity, the woman dipped her head cordially, then raised it again as he spoke and collected her hand. Unlike her introduction with Lincoln, Elizabeth was not so eager to pull back her hand, when in the presence of another kindred. She laughed just a little at the title he gave her; amused that he still remembered that whole ‘court’ thing from how long ago, now? “Doc.” Elizabeth said pleasantly, eyes drifting down to her dress. “Do you think so?” She asked, her voice clearly delighted in knowing her dress was atrocious. “I must profess that your…attire is quite eye catching.” She laughed, her eyes flitting down to the sweater he was wearing. “I suspect you will be the talk of tonight’s festivities and future conversations in the eves to come.” Her eyes drifted back up to his face, finally retrieving her hand from his. It had already spent far too long in his captivity than what was socially acceptable.

She moved, as if to move past him, but stopped when Elizabeth was at his side. “Are you familiar with the tale of ‘The Ugly Duckling?’” She asked, curiously, before continuing after he answered. “The notion behind it, as you already know, is something along the lines of, even the most ugly of things can turn out beautiful, or there is something beautiful within the ugliest of creatures...when the duckling turns into a exquisite white bird at the end. A swan, I believe it was?” Her blue eyes bounced to him as she looped an arm through his. “I am not accustomed to standing in one place for too long. Walk with me so that we may continue?” She glanced over to him, with hopeful eyes.

Doc: “That was precisely the reason I wore it.” He offered in answer to her comment about his sweater. “It was a gift from a spawn. I do not believe she thought I would actually wear it. She was wrong.” Reluctantly he released her hand. He had been going to be gentlemanly and kiss the back of her hand, but he lost his opening, as she spoke of the Ugly Duckling, and he listened.

‘If you could be suggesting you.. Are in any way, an ugly ducking, Allow me to dissuade you of the notion. You are quite lovely, and even your disturbingly horrid gown, cannot disguise this.”
Doc paused as he acquiesced to her suggestion that they walk. Strolling through the thickening crowd was a bit harder than one would expect, but he ensured there was no obstacle in her path as the walked. Finishing his comment, “And if you are alluding the fact, that I am an ugly ducking.. Then I must set your mind at ease, I really do not care what the majority think of me. Let them think the worst.”
Doc canted his head to look at her, “I believe in the story, that Duckling felt left out and alone. Shunned by others. Suffice to say I do not have that affliction. And you..” He paused, “No.. I cannot believe that of you either. You strike me as being quite self assured.”

Elizabeth: The woman’s attention remained between Doc, and the people in attendance as they walked, Elizabeth carefully listening to what he had to say. She took each statement into consideration and never interrupted until there was a pause in his words. “I would never suggest such a thing, of anyone, or anything.” She assured him in regards to the potential of her referring to him as an ugly duckling, while weaving around a crowd gathered at the side of the dance floor, with cups in their hands, laughing about something she knew nothing about. “I believe there is beauty in everything that has been created by nature; beauty is defined in the eye of the beholder. What the next person considers macabre, the next finds delightful, do you not think so?” She turned then, to look at his facial features, gauging what he might be thinking. Maybe he was wondering where this was going, or perhaps, Doc believed she was nuttier than a nut. Did it matter? She was who she was, and sometimes, Elizabeth was indeed not quite sane, but at other times, she was lost in deep thought and contemplation.

She parted her lips, while Elizabeth took an unneeded breath in, before continuing with her thoughts. “What one may consider hideous, in fact, may possess something worthwhile.” Her fingers slid down her gown then, to collect the large, fake version of mistletoe and unpinned it from her dress. “Take for instance, the Mistletoe.” She held it within the palm of her hand, at her petite eye level, for him to see. “If one were to take it at its face value, many would consider it a parasitic plant. It attaches itself to a tree or shrub, and penetrates the other plant to attain water in order to survive. How ghastly.” She said with a mock laugh, before her blue hues shifted from the plant, to Doc. “However, someone must have found it to be more than that, for everyone knows of it only as the ‘kissing plant,’ and sticks it above their rafters and doorways in hopes of taking part in that age old Christmas tradition.” She smiled as one hand dropped and collected one of his, so that she could place the artificial replica within his hand. “My Christmas gift to thee, for thy kind words. May it bring you some very good luck.” She said with a small dip of her head, before once again standing side by side with him.
Doc: Her words definitely struck an accord with Doc. He was one such person that could find beauty in the macabre, find elegance in the chaos of destruction and mutilation and sit back and enjoy the ensuing pandemonium when he instigates a fight. He is always careful not to be seen as the manipulating ******** that he is, because then all the fun is sucked away. No, Doc liked to insinuate, drop ever so vague hints, that over the course of time built up and worked on someone’s mental achilles heel; be it days or weeks, until suddenly it bears fruit and the storm is unleashed. He had done it with several; to the best of his knowledge he was never suspected.

His thoughts were derailed as she moved from speaking of the beauty that the dark and twisted could be, to ..plants. Alright, it wasn’t plants, so much as Mistletoe. Truth be known, he wasn’t that educated on plants, and Mistletoe even less so. For most of his years, he had avoided religious holidays. Those holidays were the definition of hypocrisy. Religious holidays that called for them to show their good will toward men, but in truth it was used by priests to wring money out of pockets to line the coffers of the church. So he avoided them. Only after his turning when he was assured that was no higher power known as God.. did he begin to participate in his own disrespectful way. He knew that people were supposed to kiss while under it, but he didn’t know the origins. But as she pressed the item into his hand, he now wondered at its origins.

“Thank you. That is quite generous of you.” He looked at the artificial plant then at Elizabeth, ‘I will be honest. I know very little about plants. And less about the lore that surrounds them. You seem to know quite a bit about this wee plant. Do you know how it came to be that a leaching parasite causes men to lure innocent females to be victim of their nefarious deeds?”

Elizabeth: Her smile turned into a slightly coy smirk as he admitted to not knowing much about plants. It was not uncommon for the woman to encounter others that knew nothing about horticulture, but Elizabeth never held it against them. In fact, she relished in sharing what she had come to learn over the decades about the various foliage she studied and worked with. “Perhaps it is because love and relationships can be slightly parasitic in nature.” The blonde proclaimed before shaking her head, a small laugh escaping her as she thought about his last statement. Nefarious deeds and all that. She had never heard the saying, ‘blame it on the mistletoe’ but how amusing to the woman.

“There are two stories, in which I know of...The first has to do with a time long before I walked the earth. There was a story of druids, who would use what you have in your hands for a ritual to cure infertility. Whether it works or not, I have no knowledge base on.” She confessed, with a singular roll of her shoulders. “But, that is where the story of the plant begins.” Elizabeth’s eyes wandered for a few seconds before she leaned in and dropped the pitch of her voice. “As time went on, the plant kept its reference to fertility and was transformed from a ritualistic manner, perhaps thanks, or no thanks to the church and god, to something more endearing and innocent. Who can say?” She leaned back a little, the smirk returning to her features. “Now, as you may, or may not know, the tradition states that should a man present it to a woman, she has to kiss him, or else bad luck will befall upon her. He cannot enjoy this indefinitely, for after he receives a kiss, he must pluck a berry from the plant and crush it. Once he has no more berries, he sadly, receives no more kisses. One must be careful and play his cards well.” Elizabeth concluded with a solemn nod. “That is, if one wishes to even indulge in such a tradition.” She leaned back and looped her arm through his once again, eyes moving towards the bar where he once was. “I do hope I am not pulling you away from your private celebrations. One does not have to stop on account of me.”

Doc: Doc gazed at her with a serious look. He gestured to where Grace was in the thick of things with a group 20 somethings. “That is my personal assistant Grace. She asked me to bring her here. At first I thought she was hitting on me. And I will admit I was flattered. But the sad horrible truth of the matter, she merely wanted to get me away from the office so she ream me because I have been treating the staff like ****.” He shrugged, “As far as I am concerned, I pay them well enough they should learn to butch the **** up. If my every day manner upsets them..they need to get a new ******* job.” That wasn’t the exact truth. But then again… Doc lies. He then looked at her pointedly, “So, no.. You aren’t pulling me from anyone.”

Pausing Doc reflected back on what she had said earlier about the plant and the berries. “Just so that I am clear.. Mistletoe with berries.. The guy gets to kiss the girl, until the berries are gone. So there is no kiss, if there is no berry? Is that the jist of it?” His brow furrowed. “Because I honestly do not recall ever seeing any berries on the stuff.” Another pause, “Granted, I am not even sure it was mistletoe, it could have been a sprig of any old evergreen and I wouldn’t have know the difference. I know my mother had it all over the house when I was young.” He didn’t add the fact that his father always yanked it down in a fit of temper. Doc did his best to ignore the parents at all times, and stay out of the way of their fights. A fight over a plant? He wasn’t about to get himself busted up over that. “Is it common knowledge that.. If there are no berries there is no kiss? Because.. If it isn’t.. That could be amusing.”

[Doc]

Elizabeth: Blue irises flitted over to the direction of where Grace was, for a brief moment. The group around the woman made Elizabeth slightly uneasy, and so as the story of Grace and why Doc was here unfolded, her attention returned to the male beside her. In her mind, there were a few solutions to solve the dilemma of the work place so that either one person was happy, or both walked away happy. She could offer her opinion, but since none seemed warranted, Elizabeth decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Her place of business (both of them) were small, quaint shops, so it was easier, perhaps to keep less than fifteen employees happy, than however many he had in his employ.

When Doc circled back to the mistletoe, she smiled again and then mused over his words. “Girls, if one so desires. But yes, the idea is that once they are gone, the fun ends. However, I do believe you are onto something. I do not believe that part of the story is common knowledge, no.” She laughed, then shook her head. “How you see fit to use your gift, is up to you. What you choose to share, and not share...will make no one the wiser.” Elizabeth smiled before she started moving again, her steps slow. “I must admit, that I am here to keep an eye on the host of the evening. I attended his last soiree-the unification one?” Elizabeth said, her tone somewhat questioning. “I had wondered if there were ulterior motives, but it seems that what he says, and what he does, is exactly that.” She admitted with a small shrug. “So, it seems we both came here under false pretenses. I suspect we shall both be on Santa’s naughty list this year.” Elizabeth stated with a coy smile before she moved to a different, but not so new topic. “You are very kind to keep me entertained with the ‘highness’ title, but, I would be very happy if you would call me Elizabeth. It is more personable, do you not think?” Her hues locked onto his face, while her telepathic abilities observed more of him than just his appearance in that moment. Her eyes suddenly lit up with wonder. “You were drinking at the bar...how was it you came to manage such a feat? That is not common for one on the path of the shadow.” Centuries had gone by and Elizabeth had still not managed to learn that feat, and had her doubts that she would ever learn such a thing.

Doc: “Elizabeth it is.” The reason Doc never called her by her name Elizabeth, was that they had never been properly introduced. He knew etiquette. He didn’t always follow etiquette, but he did know it. And she was the type, it seemed to him, that knew it as well; and would judge a person subconsciously over it. To most people, Doc really did not care what they thought of him. The average person in the street, **** them. He would just as soon double tap them and go on, as look at them. But there were a few exceptions. She had been one of those exceptions. She had made an impression in the early days of his introduction into the reality of vampires. She had been soft and yet formidable, all rolled up in a feminine exterior. He never went so far as to stalk her, yet he make an effort to check the Crow in case she posted. It was rare, but he would read them and note them for future use.

As she asked about his drinking, He decided to tell her the truth. “I forced myself to tolerate it. It was not easy and it was not pleasant. However, at the time, I thought it a necessary evil.” He paused as he considered his next words carefully. “Before the masquerade fell, and we were charged with protecting who we were. Not just for ourselves, but for all of us. We were only as strong as the weakest of us. One thing I did notice, when there were groups of us socializing in an establishment that had humans.. Was how easy it was to tell who was and who wasn’t by their drinking habits.”

Doc paused as they passed a group of revellers. Making sure she free to carry on unimpeded, he began again, “If the establish were not ‘friendly’ or in the know, for our kind, no one drank. There in a bar, a group five to ten people all gathered about, not.. Drinking. What does that tell the average yet watchful person? Ten people alcoholics abstaining together at a bar? No. Perhaps one alcoholic abstaining and the rest are supporting him. But if you saw that one a continual basis.. Wouldn’t your suspicions rise? The Bartenders? The waitresses? Of course they would. They are humans.. They aren’t stupid.” He paused, “So I deemed it necessary to not make a habit of socializing where I used to, and should I have to, for work, I had better learn how to fake it.”

Elizabeth: Her lips curled into a wider smile when he agreed to call her by her name. WIth that settled for the rest of the evening and perhaps any future encounters, the woman moved past the request and focused on what Doc had to say about learning to drink. Elizabeth had suspected it to be something similar to the story he told, though the reasoning surprised her. Though, whatever his reasoning was, would have probably surprised the woman, simply because she knew nothing about Doc.

“That is very….advanced thinking for someone who has not been a vampire for as long as some of us.” Elizabeth commented pleasantly, clearly impressed. And she was. Most of their kind did not think about the things they did, or could not do and how it looked to anyone watching, even casually. Which was why Elizabeth had rarely showed her face in any public setting these last few years. “Not many of our kind are as unselfish as thee.” She concluded, her eyes shifting away from him for now. “Can you eat as well, or have you just mastered the ability to drink liquor?” The conversation genuinely held her interest, as unpleasant as the experience may have been for Doc, Elizabeth curious as to the methodology of learning the skill that he possessed.


Doc: Doc slid a glance at her gave her a rueful smirk. “For the moment, drink only. Coffee and alcohol. I actually started with water. Believe it or not.. Water tears me up more than coffee. And coffee more than alcohol. Fortunately for me, most of my business dinners, start and end at the bar. It took several months of dedicated effort. And what do I get for my effort? A ******* month later.. The masquerade crashes and burns.” He sighed and shrugged apathetically, “So no need to further the persecution and actually eat. I will admit, I was not looking forward to that.”

Vivid memories of him doubled over a toilet spewing the foreign liquid into the porcelain throne, assailed his memories. And the memories of the first few times he actually managed to hold down the liquid, thus forcing it through the mostly dead digestive track, only to have it rip and burn its way out the other way. He barely repressed the shudder that came forth due to the memory. Liquid was bad enough, until the body got attuned to it. But food? If liquid felt like it was shredding him, what would junks of chewed undigested food feel like as it was purged from his body? Perhaps he should be thankful the masquerade fell before he attempted to master the art of eating.

“Do not ascribe selflessness upon me. It was never that. It was self preservation. Those that would not uphold the masquerade, I easily sent them to the fade. As I said earlier. We are only as strong as our weakest member.”

Elizabeth: She nodded in understanding, but whatever the reason was to learning the skill, the intent was good. Was she surprised the Masquerade fell? Elizabeth had anticipated it since the Crow had been ran out of town some years ago, but the only surprise to it falling was that the fall hadn’t been as horrible as Elizabeth anticipated it to be. Still, she would remain ever cautious and careful of what she said and did around those that were not kindred.

“Perhaps, one needs to look at it in a different light. I do not believe your efforts are in vain.” She confessed, before expanding upon her thoughts. “We cannot go back to the way things were, which is most unfortunate, so then we are forced to adapt and show our more kinder nature to the human populace. The one they wish to see, I suppose. Look at it from their perspective; would one be more agreeable to befriend a vampire such as yourself, or those of our kind that are blood thirsty, raging lunatics? Perhaps that is our way of life now. The illusion.” Elizabeth shook her head, then sighed. “The last encounter with truth did not go so well, if you recall, and so, I think it best to perhaps look at things in a different light since we are given a second chance, so to speak.” She moved around a table of food, careful to collect her gown in her free hand as to not damage it, or the decorations upon it. “Regardless of the series of events, I believe you will find yourself to be the last remaining among our kind, over those of us with the inability to appear human.” She offered him a kind, assuring smile, still pondering over the process he endured.

Doc: Her smile was returned with a sardonic one in return. “My dear Elizabeth, would that your words were truth, but they are not.” The sardonic smile grew into a roguish grin, “I struggle on an hourly basis, to be acceptable to polite society. Merely ‘acceptable’, not the epitome of high society, acceptable to the bitter masses. And more often than not, I fail.” He could explain, that he failed because he honestly didn’t give a ****, but he wasn’t quite ready to show the exquisite Elizabeth how dark his soul really was.

“You speak of benevolence and showing our softer kinder side to the masses..” He looked at the ‘masses’ in their ugly sweaters, with their own sins of deceit. “I am not of the mind that they deserve our kindness.” Before she could interject a comment, “Do not mistake me. I understand that, this is the role we are to play if we are to survive; and I will play that role. But I will not enjoy it. And I daresay, I am not the only one who chafes at this ‘kinder gentler nature that is thrust upon us.’ Make no mistake, is it only a matter of time before war erupts. How and who sets it in motion.. I cannot say. But I do feel it is inevitable.”

Elizabeth: Doc’s answer was expected for anyone who had studied the kindred history and possessed at least an intelligence level of someone in secondary school, in Elizabeth’s mind. Most of their kind either did not care about the past, failed to learn it, or thought that history did not, or could not repeat itself. As for the majority’s intelligence level...it was questionable at best. “All the world’s a stage, hmm?” She mused aloud before a quick laugh left her mouth. “If that is true, it is a good thing you are adaptable, yes?” She inquired, thinking of what her plans would be when the inevitable transpired.

Deciding it best to switch the topic of conversation for obvious reasons, Elizabeth took the conversation in a different direction. “What plans, if any have you for the holiday season, or is this it?” The woman asked, coming to the conclusion that this was perhaps a safer topic to discuss while passing the throngs of humans.

Doc: Doc actually laughed at her comment that he was adaptable. He was he adaptable. But sometimes he didn’t want to adapt. No. Most times he did not want to adapt. He felt like he spent all his waking hours adapting. Adapting to the new laws the government put in place for the asylum, adapting to the Chain ignoring him again, adapting the masquerade being gone, adapting to the fact that his whole reason for getting up everyday was .. gone. The masquerade and its protection had been his sole preoccupation, since he was turned. The reason he worked so hard at business was to ensure that his lineage had a future fund source. When he wasn’t studying the all the ancient tomes he could find, he was training. And now that was all gone.

He was adaptable. He snorted somewhat derisively, “Forgive me, if I am not excited thrilled by your assessment of my adaptability.” His next comment was dry, “The holidays mean very little to me. Some people look forward to them, as they are cause for happy memories, and they hope for more in the coming season. The holidays hold no happy fond memories for me. They are just another day in line with a myriad that follow them. The whole point of the holiday is moot. The christian religion is predicated on this holiday being the ‘saviors’ birth. The savior of what exactly? Save mankind from sin and in turn give them eternal life in heaven.” He paused before adding, “And where exactly does ‘our kind’ fit in? We have already solved that whole ‘life eternal’. So just what does this savior have for us, hmmm?”

Elizabeth: Her lips quirked into a small smirk at his wry tone. Adapting was not one of her favourite things to take part in after her return from the realm after hundreds of years, but Elizabeth had little choice, in truth. Still, for as much ‘adapting’ as she had done, there was still a great deal of things Elizabeth had not become familiar with. And out of those things, there were some things that she would never wish to learn and take part in. Times had changed, that was a certainty, but some things she just could not get behind, even if society had changed their views on things.

Take for instance, the idea behind mistletoe. Doc had been correct in stating that the real story behind it perhaps was not known, because in the times in which presenting mistletoe to someone and removing a berry from it, was a man’s way to kiss whomever he wanted (while still playing by the rules), without any societal backlash. Nowadays, if people wanted to kiss, they simply would without any reservations. While it settled the point of if someone was interested in the other, there was no thrill, or chase behind anything anymore. No thoughts put into acquiring the one they desired.

“I too am not a participant of the holidays, either. In fact, the first year I returned to Harper Rock, I did not celebrate it. The second year, I gave a little resistance and by the third year, since the majority celebrated it in my family, I also came to celebrate it with them. Our saviour, as you put it, has nothing for the likes of us, if he does in fact even exist. We are on a much different plane of existence and there are no rules, no stories in the Bible to deal with those such as us. My resolve in my christian faith died when Isabella found, and sired me. Still, majority wins it seems and so, here we both are, thanks to Mister King.” Elizabeth concluded before glancing in the direction of Alexandrea and her ugly sweater, before she stopped at the bar, pulled her dress away from her frame and took a seat, besides an empty one. “What was it you were drinking?” She inquired, her blue eyes full of intrigue and mischief.

Doc: Watching as she sat down at the bar, Doc sat next to her on the empty stool. “Scotch.” He nodded to the bartender to give him another, before looking at Elizabeth. “Dare to give it a try? It’s uncomfortable as hell and it will make your insides feel like Mount Vesuvius erupting in your own personal form of hell.” Then he winked at her, lowered his voice and offered, “Or you can pretend, and I will drink it for you. What say you my lady.. Dare to adapt?”

Elizabeth: The nice thing about being a telepath was that for the things Elizabeth wasn’t familiar with, her mind could sort it out in a matter of seconds. At the mention of the Mount, her mind searched out the location of the Mountain and then the corners of her lips turned upwards into hilarity at Doc’s comparison of drinking the liquor to that of the very volcano that destroyed an entire village. Her eyes moved to the amber liquor that was being poured for Doc, then slowly nodded her head. “Who could resist such a tempting offer?” She mused with a slightly apprehensive laugh to boot. Her eyes shifted to the bartender while she pointed to the drink he poured Doc. “I shall have what he is having.” She concluded slowly, highly doubting that the results would end up pleasantly.

[Kira]

Kira was studying the colors of the party, another wonderfully done party it seemed. It wasn't long before she was greeted by the host, had she not have a chance to tell her name to him at the last party? She couldn't remember. "Nice to see you again as well. You've outdone yourself again." she said, but as the host of the party she knew he'd be busy so she moved on as he went to greet more guests.

She picked up a glass of wine, taking a sip as her green eyes scanned the room of new people before lifting up the ugly sweater that she was dragging around instead of wearing. She would be glad to burn the thing after the party. She really didn't understand this whole ugly sweater thing either but whatever.

She looked back up, she saw people who were at the last party but didn't get a chance to talk to. She wondered if they were always going to be on the invite list and what will the next party be.

She tilted her head, was Lexy here? She felt like she was. She hadn't seen the woman in some time, life was busy for the both of them.

Kira took another sip of wine before wondering through the room of people to find ot if she was here.

[Claude Lambert (DELETED 8569)]

Interesting.

That was one such word which held many connotations, the German had learned. Whilst the genuine definition presented a compliment to his ears, the very pause before its utterance hinted that his company tonight was being somewhat fastidious with its offering. He smiled broadly nonetheless. If the lady wished to clown around with him then he was happy to indulge them both. Claude was not easily warded off as it was, and while he was far from being the type to voluntarily compare himself with the common house fly, he could see where the similarities lay. He was just as stubborn, just as tenacious, to buzz around an object of his affections – bearing all swipes and slaps and toxic solvents simply to be in their presence. He was not put off by the cynical tone of the lady’s words, nor her comments regarding those who had elected to shy away from the ugly fashion parade. While Claude considered himself to be very generous, providing everyone – both stranger and friend alike – with a card of impunity for their opinions, he very secretly agreed with the blonde. Even he had managed to put his pampered ego aside and don something that he wouldn’t otherwise be seen buried in, much less at a social gathering, for the spirit of the affair. So why couldn’t others shake off the shackles of their own pride for one night also?

Although he hadn’t noticed it at first, in that singular moment of consideration, the German’s amber gaze had flickered back to their host for the evening. Lincoln had been one of those people who’d chosen to postpone dressing in something outlandish for this soiree, though perhaps a few choice words and a slip of something warm and lascivious would convince the Golden Monarch to have a change of heart a little later on. A dark premonition flashed behind Claude’s eyes, gave his smile an extra something, even when he had delivered his full attention back to the captivating blonde before him. She was smiling too, in a way that looked less scandalous, yet equally as mischievous; the pink of her lips appeared scarlet to his eyes and promised a taste of strawberries. He chivalrously reached for the hand that was offered and placed a chaste kiss on the bridge of her knuckles. It was, perhaps, a bold move and one likely unsolicited and unsuitable for the event, as she might have expected a simple handshake. Yet, the German clad in green and black seemed awfully too proud of himself to consider such trivialities. Claude straightened and offered a smooth smile, letting the warmth of his touch linger a moment beyond appropriate before he decided to return the introductions.

“A pleasure,” he announced honestly. “I am Claude.”

And while he couldn’t place her name, assign it, felt it foreign despite his experiences, he suspected that his was likely more unfamiliar and surreal to the larger world than the label she had provided. No famous bearer of the name had been present since the French impressionist painter, Claude Monet, who had been born in 1840 and had died 1926. Even so, the artist was more commonly known and referred to by his surname and it was unlikely that the average person was even aware of it. Meanwhile, the name Vexen seemed to be something totally modern in its making – a twist on vixen and vexation by all accounts. Claude would muse over the subject for hours if allowed to do so, and perhaps be so inclined as to search the internet for the answer. Sometimes he just couldn’t stand it, having knowledge and insight just beyond his reach. It was an echo of his past self, one that reprimanded him when he had not forcibly drank enough to drown its cries. He would be sure to imbibe enough Christmas spirit tonight and for the days that followed so as to silence those thoughts at least until the New Year.

“There is a saying for such occasions, I believe,” Claude offered, following on from her earlier observation regarding the ugly Christmas sweaters and those who refused to partake. “If you can’t laugh at yourself then you are missing the best joke of the day. As it happens, I could equally look around the room and be amused forever more.”

Claude raised his glass to gesture the other partygoers, his arm stiffening suddenly when his amber gaze fell upon a true contender for Miss Vexen’s crown. The man had balls – actual, metaphysical, and glittering green – to go out in public wearing a sweater that less subtly suggested at a lustful mind than Claude’s own sweater. The German had to bite back on the laugh that he wanted to let out at the risk of being too loud. He settled on a hearty chuckle, one that rumbled up out of his stomach and vibrated the air through his lungs, up his throat, and right out of his pursed lips.

“What a tremendous show,” he said. Amber eyes looked upon her fondly, studying the make-up of her fortuitous features before he noted the emptiness of her hands. “Oh, but I have just noticed that you are without a drink. Could I get you something?”

[Elizabeth]

Doc: Doc grinned at her. She would be able to tell by the grin, she had better brace herself. “Hear hear! She will have what I am having.. And I am buying.” He threw down a couple of more hundred’s, “Keep them coming.” Surreptitiously, he checked the floor layout of the Chronograph for the fastest direction to the Ladies room, he had no doubt he would have to point her toward it in time. She was one of the older generation, so she was strong, hardy even. She probably could hold out longer than he, unless, after generations of drinking nothing but blood, the introduction of something non-blood related cause a spontaneous ejaculation of the fluid.

Somewhere, in the darker recesses of his mind, a weak voice tried to get him to talk her out of it. “Cheers.” He said in an amused voice as he summarily ignored the voice of sanity, he grabbed his tumbler of scotch and tossed it back in a single swallow. It was a subliminal dare. Could she do it? Toss it all at once, and hold it? And if she did, was he prepared? His grin widened, it wasn’t like he was wearing one of his bespoke suits, now was it?

Elizabeth: Her blue eyes tripled in size when Doc stated he would not only buy her drink but to keep them coming. Elizabeth had planned at most to drink one scotch, but it seemed that Doc had something else on his mind. With eyes still wide, Elizabeth looked down at the drink that had been poured for her, taking in its appearance and then lifted it up slowly. With each rise of her arm towards her lips, the stronger the scent of the liquor got. When was the last time Elizabeth had even pretended to drink any form of liquor? Too long, because the smell was stronger than she remembered.

Did the blonde have reservations? Of course she did. She had a lot of them. The first being that she might very well vomit on the bar, or even Doc himself. The second being just what she might vomit up. The third being, would that action identify her to onlookers as potentially being a vampire if she lost her cookies right here and now? Part of her wanted to believe that Doc wouldn’t risk something like that for any vampire, given his opinions on things not that long ago. But that smirked beg to differ…

The plastic cup was raised the entire way and some of the contents poured into her mouth. She let what was in there stay in her mouth for a second before Elizabeth swallowed it down with a gulp, the rest following afterwards, before the cup was all too readily slapped on the counter. She made a face, not because of the taste, but because of the smell that lingered well after the drink was gone. “That was horrible.” She confessed as her nose slowly unwrinkled, before she laughed. Perhaps the woman could do without drinking in hindsight, after all.

Doc: “Well done! Round two coming up.” He nodded toward the bartender. Looking back at Elizabeth with an amused appreciative look. “You are an enigma Elizabeth. I am thoroughly enjoying this evening.” He paused, “Something I did not believe would happen. So you have my sincere thanks and apologies,” He grinned again, “When this all goes south and blows up .. or in my face.”

The bartender sat two more down in front of them. Doc downed his without no hesitation, even though that imp of self-righteousness was trying to be heard. If only Doc were inclined to listen, he might be reminded, that he doesn’t do well once the alcohol starts to be metabolised. And in a vampire’s body it is metabolised pretty quickly. For those vampires that do not have weaknesses to toxins, it is barely even noticeable. But for those that do, the alcohol acts like a toxin as well as an inebriant.

Elizabeth: “Oh, I do not know if-” Elizabeth started to interject before two more drinks were set down in front of them. Once again, the strong whiff of the liquor wafted its way upwards and Elizabeth slowly shook her head. Perhaps, her plan of observing Doc while he drank was not the best of ideas, now that she was offered yet another drink. Doc’s words did little to assure Elizabeth’s already hesitant mind, but his next drink was gone and the telepath wondered if perhaps nothing that mortifying would happen after all. Perhaps, Doc was just teasing her and the situation at hand. “I am very pleased that you are enjoying yourself...for now.” She warned him, because Elizabeth was positive that what went down, must go up, or something along those lines, but when was anyone’s best guess.

Her fingers clamped around the plastic cup and brought it back up, but stopped short so she could make yet another face. “You drink this often?” Elizabeth could barely stomach the smell, if she could taste it, the woman was positive she would have lost the first drink before it even made its way down. Her shoulders lifted into a tense shudder before drink two disappeared, a little quicker than the last had, the woman holding up her free hand. “I do not think this is a good idea...maybe.” She said with a disgusted laugh, the empty glass brought down on the bar, then pushed away from her. She should have suggested they dance to the poor taste in music, instead.

Doc: “Often? Depends on your point of view. Do I drink nightly? No.” He gestured to the bartender again, while looking at Elizabeth. “Do I drink enough that I regret it the next evening.. Yes I do. Will I regret this? I hope not. Will I remember enough of it.. To know that I do .. or do not regret it, as the case may be? I will not know. That will depend on how much we drink before you say uncle.” Doc wasn’t drunk, but he was feeling that lessening of the tightness he usually held himself to. The grin came easier and with much more mirth showing than before. His typical grins and smirks were measured, just enough, but never enough to clear show his ever present fangs. With his typical tightness gone, of one knew to look for it, they might catch the hint of a fang or two.

“You my dear, hold your liquor well. Much better than I. And you are this tiny thing… Petite even. Not ******* fair.” He turned to look at the bartender in that, ‘hey buddy we are waiting here!’ kind of way.

Elizabeth: There was a flicker of confusion that crossed Elizabeth’s features at the unfamiliar statement. Once again, the woman relied on the tried and true Telepath abilities and found out that Doc did not mean she would actually be calling for her uncle (as impossible as that would be anyways) but it was a statement the indicated ones surrender to an opponent. Elizabeth felt herself smiling more when Doc’s smile came with a grump of complaints. She could smile now, but eventually knew that he would probably have the last smile.

“You know what they say about books and-” Elizabeth paused her thoughts as her smile slowly vanished. Something wasn’t quite right...but the feeling wasn’t unbearable. Foreign for certain, but something Elizabeth believed she could push past. She swallowed and then smiled once again. “Covers.” She concluded as two more drinks were set down in front of them. “Ladies first.” She said with a laugh, then brought the cup to her lips and tilted her head back and swallowed every ounce of it down, much like Doc had done the first go around.

[Doc]

Doc: Doc stared at Elizabeth, there was no way in ******* hell, he was going to lose it all right now. She was this tiny mouse of a thing. The cruelty.. Being drunk under the table by an admitted lightweight. The **** he would. He narrowed his gaze her, especially at the ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ comment. Yes she had played him. She knew exactly what she was doing. She never actually admitted she couldn’t drink. She only alluded to it.

“**** me..” He muttered as she threw back the next drink, without a ‘by your leave’ “I believe.. My Dear Elizabeth.. You are ‘ringer.” He then swallowed his drink, and then slammed the glass down. “BARKEEP!” After the word left his mouth, he frowned ever so slightly, and lowered his voice, “Another round and make it a double, if you please.” He cleared his throat, and the clearing turned into a cough, which almost turned into a heave. He counted. He was determined not to lose.


Elizabeth: Another phrase she was none too familiar with had Elizabeth searching out just what a ‘ringer’ was. She looked at him mortified, before laughing. “I swear, I have not tasted an ounce of this in my life before tonight.” She shifted upon her stool so that she could look at him more than the side of Doc. She jumped a little at his beckoning of the bartender, discovering now that Doc could in fact feel the effects of liquor, yet for the most part, Elizabeth felt fine. At least of sound mind...but there was this nagging voice at the back of her mind telling her that if she did not stop, something dreadful was bound to happen, accompanied with the slightly nauseating feeling in the pit of Elizabeth’s stomach.

With Doc’s cough, Elizabeth reached a hand out and wrapped it around his arm. “We may stop, if you wish to stop.” She pressed him, because if she wasn’t about to lose however much she drank, Doc looked, and sounded like he might. The bartender brought the ordered drinks, and gave both of them a look before moving off to another group, just shaking his head. “After this drink, perhaps?” She picked up the glass, which seemed a little heavier than the last, and the one before that, but brought it to her lips. The hand left his arm, so that she could pinch her nose and block out the smell of the horrendous liquor, before she started to drink it down, slower than the last drink as uncertainty edged forward. She cringed and then put the cup on the bar, once it was all gone, upside down, as eyes fell to the floor. There was that feeling again, but so far, she was still good.

Elizabeth Other None Luck Avoid throwing up on the floor Succeeded

Doc: “Quit? And allow you to win ..?” He almost said ‘your highness’ but stopped himself in time. Had he said it, she may have taken it as an insult. It would not have been an insult. It is merely how she is known in his mind. Her Highness. So the lapse would be understandable to him, but to her, a possible insult. He wanted to win, more so now than before, when she so generously said they could stop. That would mean she would win. No. **** No. Yes a gentleman would acquiesce to her wishes. But **** that ****. He wanted to win! But he also wanted her not to hate him.

And thus the war began inside his mind, as he slammed back the double. Doc thought through the iterations. Stop now, lose to the female. Have it held over his head for eternity by Enzo that he lost to a … girl. He grimaced. Or.. they keep drinking.. And he legitimately lost to a girl. He frowned. Or he didn’t lose, and Elizabeth got sick as a dog and blamed him and never spoke to him again. At which point all her spawns and related spawns would hate him. He would be reviled more than he already was. Decisions .. decisions.

Letting out a held breath, Doc looked at the bartender.. “Last round. Make it a strong one.”

The bartender had been hovering, he could see one of them was about spew.. But which would it be? He poured two doubles and nodded.

To the winner goes the spoils.. “ Doc took a glass and then looked at Elizabeth, waiting for her, “You are a formidable drinking partner..”


Elizabeth: Elizabeth was relieved to hear Doc say that this would be the last round. If the woman had need for any breath, she would have let out a sigh of relief to accompany the feeling that came with knowing the end was in sight, especially when she was starting to feel as if she should quit. Or excuse herself and slip away to the bathroom, or at this point, the solitude of one of her many homes.

But, she could certainly do just one more, couldn’t she? With knowing the end was near, how could she not? The woman looked at both glasses and groaned softly, as she grabbed her glass and brought it upwards, the speed of a snail. “To the winner.” She said agreeably, with a cringe, before the cup found her lips. Elizabeth hadn’t gotten more than two sips down, when her eyes doubled in a mixture of doubt and horror, the blonde tearing the drink away from her lips. Just in time...to hunch forward and lose everything right on Doc’s lap.Everything and then some, in truth. When it was all said and done, mortified eyes flew up at him, as she leaned back and sat there, frozen in fear as every patron at the bar stopped what they were doing and looked at the pair of them. “Oh, my-I am so terribly sorry.” Elizabeth said above a whisper, as all the liquor that was on Doc started to seep its way down to the ground and puddle at his feet and chair.

Elizabeth Other None Luck Doc avoid throwing up on Doc Failed

[Alexandrea]

As usual, the blonde Allurists attempts to remain unseen until she wanted to be noticed failed and the host of the event himself was soon greeting her. Alexandrea was as polite as she always was but still was unsure of Lincoln King. He had apologized for his tresspasses in the past but he still reminded her too much of Alston. Alex knew that it was no one's fault that the two had such similar faces but she remained unhappy about the reminder of her long lost childe.

But Mr. King had good timing that night, the emotional roller coaster known as Alexandrea Quartermaine was on an upswing as he welcomed the Allurist to his party. She hadn’t been inside the club more than a mere moment or two before she just knew her childe Meara was in the room. The blonde couldn't help but be grinning, her face aglow with happiness. A split second after discovering Meara was there, Alex spotted Elizabeth and Kira. However it was Liz’s dress that the blonde couldn’t tear her focus from.

Which was another factor that was in Lincoln’s favour as a distracted Alex is a non aggressive Alex. In the spirit of the season she resolved in her mind all grievances with Lincoln King set and aside to be forgotten. The blonde tore her eyes, which were dancing in merriment, off of her adoptive Sire’s dress and met Lincoln in his own peepers in time to pay proper attention as he spoke.

Alexandrea was smiling warmly at him, her head nodding as he formally introduced himself.
“A pleasure to meet you face to face, Mr. King.” The blonde said cheerfully and sincerely. “Thank you for the party. It looks like a successful one already. I hope you will enjoy your own party as much as I plan to.” As the young man moved on to greet his other guests, Alexandrea thought again about Alston. She had a painting or two of him still at her gallery upstairs from her shop.

She glanced around briefly looking for her newest childe but the sight of Meara eluded her. When the blonde looked back at the mingling host, he had arrived at Elizabeth’s side and the Elder, as regal as ever, elegantly accepted Lincoln’s hand for a moment. Alexandrea grinned, as always she was impressed by Liz’s social graces. Even dressed up like a Christmas Tree, the other blonde looked every bit a queen.

Still grinning ear to ear, Alexandrea moved through the growing crowd towards the bar where she had thought she would find Meara as she fondly recalled the Tulipany Court and her own title as Lady of Wickbridge. It seemed like such a long time ago now. So much had changed in Harper Rock since Alexandrea had returned, and been turned. And Elizabeth had been one of the main reasons why Alex had done well, despite having an absent Sire.

Finding the Society of Allurists had been a huge blessing for Alexandrea. Temperance and Liz had not only become the blonde’s teachers but her friends. And family. Not seeing her childe anywhere yet, Alex’s eyes scanned the room for Kira. Another friend that was more like family that had come into her life thanks to the SOA.

Her eyes failing her for the moment, Alex closed them briefly to try to ‘feel’ the direction of her friend. Turning her face the other way as she opened her eyelids again it seemed to work, and as the people standing between the two Daughters of the Triple Moon parted at just the right moment, Alexandrea spotted her Kiwi. Stepping away from the bar just as Elizabeth arrived with Doc, who was wearing what had to be the ‘Ugly Sweater’ winner for the night, Alexandrea chuckled, She would make sure to visit with them both of them before the night was through.

The urge to squeal out; ‘Kiwi!’ and then rush to tackle hug her seldom seen friend was strong in Alexandrea. But she resisted, moving towards the other Allurist and then balancing the bottle of beer she had acquired from the bartender in one hand as she reached out for Kira’s hand with the other. *Well hello there stranger, come here often?* Alex sent teasingly into her friend’s thoughts. She looked around again for her childe, Meara. There were introductions to be made.

Alexandrea’s attention was draw back to Elizabeth where the Elder was still sitting at the bar with Doc. To the blonde’s surprize, it looked for all the world a if Liz was drinking. Really drinking. Concerned, Alex debated about returning to the bar and interjecting herself into their conversation so as to be able to hover protectively over her adopted sire just in case the Telepath got ill… or if that rascal Doc was trying to take advantage of her friend.

And then it happened. All over poor Doc. Alexandrea almost laughed but got a grip on her mirth quickly and hurried over to the bar, grabbing some towels from the counter on her way to Liz's side.

[Lincoln King]

There were so many options at a party like this, and although the night had barely even begun people were already getting into the spirit of merriment. He could see people partaking of the food, keeping his bartenders busy with drink orders and people were even dancing. To his amusement one of the small number of Christmas songs he had put on the playlist came on, a Wham! classic, all about giving your heart away only to find it was to the wrong person. It was a song he enjoyed, but the message wasn't lost on him. Be careful with your heart. Lincoln had learned that lesson the hard way many years ago and was not likely to repeat it anytime soon. It was a timely reminder, his look around the room having his gaze fall on Claude just in time to catch his gaze studying the pretty blonde. Oh yeah, he was a snake in disguise. Robin and Maddison were drinking red wine, Linc leaning closer to tease. "Red wine? Really? Let's not make mess a tradition now, wouldn't wa-..." His speech was cut short, getting an eyeful of the elegant, the beautiful Elizabeth who was clearly no child throwing up violently onto Mr.Baubles shoes. "Well, ****."

The host sprung into action, moving closer to the bar so he could lean over it. From one of the bartenders he snatched up the cloth that hung from the man's back pocket, still mercifully clean so early into the night. A signal was given to one of the staff members Lincoln had floating with a tray of pre-prepared drinks, point casually in the direction of the incident. No use waiting around to see if she got the message, his staff were usually remarkably on the ball, he had implicit trust in them. To Elizabeth's side he moved, offering the snatched up cloth to the pair. "Are you alright, Elizabeth and... Companion. Sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm Lincoln King, here to uh... Help." He gave Elizabeth a brief, encouraging smile, murmuring. "Don't worry, happens to the best of us. And the worst."

[Doc]

The bartender had known it would end badly before either of them. He could see it in the body movements. It was a gift. The tell tale nuances a person gave away. The man in the tasteless sweater was your typical cocky git. Never knows when to stop. The female, she was a lightweight. She bluffed very well, but he could tell by the tiny nose scrunches before each drink. He held a clean bar towel out to the female. He ignored the male.

To be honest, Doc had been blindsided by the actual act that splattered him from mid-chest down. He had glanced off at something, he couldn’t tell you what it was that had caused him to turn and look, because he was caught completely off guard as the deluge of now rancid liquid hit him full on. He looked down at the ruined atrocity of a sweater, and the puddle that was growing as his sweater dripped.

Doc drew a breath, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. He closed his eyes and counted. After a moment, he managed to look at Elizabeth. There she sat, mortification clearly etched into her face and her eyes. He had missed her whispered apology, because he had been silently counting. Had he been sober, his reaction would likely have been something else entirely, but as it was, he was half lit. Probably more than half. He snorted. Then he laughed. It was after all the last thing she would have purposely done. He knew it would not end well. He was right. He laughed a bit harder.

Clearing his throat, He collected himself. “Never let it be said.. That I don’t know how to show a girl a good time.” Then more pointedly. “Bet you never did that before…” He let that hang, as he carefully stood up. “I am going to hit the men’s room…” He smirked as he noticed several start head their direction.