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Post by Krakenbox on Jan 31, 2022 21:43:10 GMT -8
The modern meaning of Imbolc, like most holidays had been largely altered by time. The most common translation for the 12,000 year old practice is that the term comes from the Old Irish i mbolc, meaning "in the belly", and refers to the pregnancy of ewes before birthing in spring. Another possible origin is "to wash/cleanse oneself", referring to a ritual cleansing. With Christianization, Candlemass would come after, where a woman was to be purified by presenting a lamb as a burnt offering, and either a young pigeon or dove as sin offering. The holiday was a festival of the hearth and home, and a celebration of the lengthening days and the early signs of spring. Celebrations often involved hearthfires, special foods, divination or watching for omens, candles or a bonfire if the weather permitted. Fire and purification were an important part of the festival, and representing the return of warmth and the increasing power of the Sun over the coming months, along with a spring cleaning. Holy wells were visited at Imbolc, and visitors to holy wells would pray for health while walking 'sunwise' around the well. They would then leave offerings, typically coins, and the water was used to bless the home, family members, livestock and fields. Spring's Coronation would not come for another month, with the dawn celebration of Ostara, but the Vegas Winter ritual was decidedly hedonistic. The holy well was rumoured to be a natural spring of dreams and fate found within the Hedge, where the Silent Arrow had sprung up a building under the guise of yet another failed Whitney Industrial Project. The Annual Purge wasn't everyone's scene; the glamour itself had been imbibed into incredibly strong liquour, to be mixed into mundane beverages for an intense psychedelic experience and heightened emotion. Some Lost respected the Rite for what it was, others attended to gawk at the Winter courtiers thawing on the one night they were expected to be raw and exposed, some simply lost a bet or were stuck in a sealed game of Truth or Dare. This year the Court had gone all out, with LED screens had been embedded into the mirror walls turning the industrial complex into an immersive mirror maze, bathing bodies in light and confusing patterns and colour, as the Lost were expected to dump their collective hang-ups under and anonymity of painted neon...and a collective Oath of Silence. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
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Hua Yuan
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Presence 2 - Nostalgic; SL 1 - Flawless
Posts: 304
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Post by Hua Yuan on Jan 31, 2022 22:26:18 GMT -8
That morning, Yuan had woken up to a humid pillow and red, puffy eyes - he had cried again in his sleep. Ever since Riley’s disappearance, he had done his best to keep a brave front and keep the good times rolling. Lately, he had been dreaming of sphinxes and moths morphing into one another, screaming in pain and mad ranting. There was no one he could talk about it; no one wanted to see a downer Spring.
Imbolc came as a blessing. Spring cleaning and rave were two concepts that rarely went hand in hand, but Winter’s dusk provided the perfect opportunity for both. Tonight was the night to drink as much alcohol as it was possible and black out in the most glorious way possible. And if the Emerald could sweep up other along for the ride, all the better. Wearing an oversized white tank top over his bare chest and a metallic, golden bandana wrapped around his neck, Yuan slipped into a comfortable pair of jean shorts and bright red running shoes.
Maybe when the night was over, he could tap his heals to get home.
The Playmate made his way into the venue with a water bottle in hand. While the plan to get absolutely shit-faced, he still had his club kid rep to maintain. The pulsing lights and sweaty bodies made him feel right at home, far from all the courtly affairs and their politics.
It was time to find a crowd to fit in with.
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Lotus Eater
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Presence (4) Capable |Rigid Mask | Winter Mantle | Status (Licensed Security) | Autumn Goodwill (1)
Posts: 74
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Post by Lotus Eater on Feb 1, 2022 16:11:47 GMT -8
Lotus Eater had arrived early to the festivities, looking distinguished in a beautiful black evening dress. It wasn't the typical wear for a Rave, to be certain, which in its way made the Wizened stand out all the more in the crowd. She would never admit it, but Lotus felt certain anxiety around events like this. Large crowds, loud music, mind-altering substances. There were far too many 'What ifs .'So when she first arrived, she made a round of the warehouse, getting a sense of the layout. Every room was cataloged and locked away in her mind, and with each room revealed, her anxiety subsided. Satisfied she had an excellent mental map, she went to the bar fetching a classic gimlet in a coupe glass. Her eyes scanned the crowd of Changeling as they began to enter the celebration. There would be too many to catalog individually, but most she had seen before. The Freehold was in flux, shaken by the series of unfortunate events and emergencies that had struck in the last year. Now Winter had a new king, a young man, not even out of college. Before, Lotus saw Winter as the most stable court, given all that had happened. But now, that assumption was out the window. Tonight provided a unique opportunity to get a temperature from the other courts regarding the sudden change.
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Post by Aster Blau on Feb 1, 2022 18:59:06 GMT -8
The benefit of Imbolc came with its obscurity.
More removed from the end-of-year holiday parties and months before major celebrations in spring and summer, the Viper had been able to say she was going out without her nosy, if well-meaning, landlord intervening in her state of dress. Thus, Aster was free to wear what she wished, donning a pair of sneakers, olive green joggers, a gray sports bra, and a denim jacket. The slight scent of dryer sheets betrayed the reality that the Viper had cared enough to ensure her clothes were freshly laundered. Nonetheless, her look was relatively mild compared to the more "rave" looks present at the event. Aster bore no makeup and her hair had been casually pulled back in a ponytail.
Wary of the drinks and the traditional festivities of the event, Aster resided relatively by herself, her sole companion being a glass of water as she leaned against the bar and observed the crowds gathered. It was clear the Beast was not within her element and the slight frown spoke to some overstimulation. Nonetheless, Aster was present for whatever that was worth.
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Post by Henley on Feb 1, 2022 21:05:11 GMT -8
It was time to process some shit. You know. With drugs.
Nate Henley arrived to the party wearing big, round sunglasses, an open charcoal suit jacket, and a pair of jeans with Doc Martens. Shirts were overrated. Instead, the Nymph had a fading, deep scar that ran from under his left pec to above the right pec just short of his right shoulder.
His injuries in the face of the Angel of Blades had been a featured part of a bigger story that had been disseminated through the Freehold in the time following it: that Outback and Yuan had helped Mitchell Carr find himself, that they had inspired a mer-movement within the Hedge to steal from the Tsarina of Umbra, and most importantly, through the power of sheer fucking Desire and drive toward knowledge and magic, they had discovered key knowledge for the war against Metatron. This was the legacy of Spring and Autumn combined - nothing less than pursuit of the outcomes they wanted and needed, overcoming Fear and embracing the sheer balls of pure Want. Summer was badass. Solomon and Rose and their people were great. Gavin Graves was a legend in the Hedge and in the battle.
And as for the bard? He wasn't a badass. He was a fucking stock broker, but even he stood his ground against Metatron - and here he was, still alive, an example of how Spring could do their part.
It was time to process some shit. You know. With drugs. To feel alive as the wheel ground from Winter's thaw toward the seeding of Spring.
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Nott
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Presence 2 (Animated)
Posts: 25
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Post by Nott on Feb 1, 2022 22:07:32 GMT -8
Neon beat across Nott's sunglasses and cut through the outer halo of her curls, filling them with shifting colors. It was almost nice. Stepping into the warehouse felt like sinking into a river, the movement of bodies creating currents toward the bar and the dance floor, rippling into more private corners; it was tempting to just follow the pull, lose herself in a drink and a repetitive beat. Maybe if she tried hard enough she'd be able to shut off her brain for a few minutes. As she tucked her sunglasses into the neck of her sleeveless suit, the Winter considered her options. The temptation was strong, but there wasn't much to be learned by dancing that she needed to know. Not right now, anyway. There would be time enough later to get trashed and stare into her, or someone else's, navel, but for now... Hopefully there would be interesting things to see, shouted conversations to have. A person didn't need to be able to talk about something for the information to be useful. Her bright eyes skimmed the faces near her, looking for some spark of recognition or interest, any good in to get them rolling.
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Post by Blaze on Feb 2, 2022 7:03:19 GMT -8
Blaze couldn't dance for shit. Her last visit to anightclub that wasn't to fulfil some professional obligation ended in an awkwardfest of epic proportions, so the Elemental was wary about coming. There was a strong temptation to skip this one and stay home. She was no one important and in the crowd no one would notice her missing, much less care. But the times are difficult for both the freehold and the Court of Winter, which means being alone is a death sentence. And if she can show some uplifting good spirits then hey, maybe she just should. Speaking of uplifting, she thinks she saw Yuan schmoozing somewhere, but her attention was pulled by the story Henley was spinning. If even half of it was true - and the scars are as good an evidence as any that it was - then it was a big win for the freehold, and it did the job of cheering the Torrent up perfectly well. She swims through the galaxies of people and colours in her outfit of black high-waist flared pants paired with a simple faux leather bralette. The heels weren't an ideal choice but at least they may be repurposed as an improvised weapon if the need arises, or be taken off at an appropriate moment in accordance with party phases. Imbolc was, after all, a time of cleansing, and what better way to cleanse yourself than fill your body up to the eyeballs with alcohol and party chems? The Torrent holds a Paloma cocktail that slowly but surely disappears and looks around. Spotting a blue-red suit and a wave of curls above. "Haven't seen you in a while." she has to shout through the blaring music as she approaches Nott, smiling "How have you been?"
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Lotus Eater
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Presence (4) Capable |Rigid Mask | Winter Mantle | Status (Licensed Security) | Autumn Goodwill (1)
Posts: 74
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Post by Lotus Eater on Feb 2, 2022 8:15:29 GMT -8
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Post by Wayland on Feb 2, 2022 12:13:50 GMT -8
Working with Mary has taught Wayland many lessons, but one which it has driven home with the greatest surety is this: Messing up rituals has consequences. Wayland has never been one to lack commitment when given clear goals. The goals of Imbloc are frankly terrifying to her, but as a friend reminded her once; sometimes these things don’t feel good. It’s easier to swallow her fear and anxiety when she can wash it down with the glamoured concoctions Winter’s serving up tonight. She’s had several already, she can feel their potency licking at her bones, loosening her up, flowing over her worries as if to conceal them in their depths. After her first taste she was ready to hit the dance floor, and there she’s stayed. Letting the beat take over, an almost concussive force blasting her clean as she twists and moves feels her blood thumping in her veins, the smooth action of muscle under skin, the joy and freedom of movement. She feels like she’s close to the edge of something. What she’s not sure. For the moment she’s content to inch her way up closer to that yawning drop, feel that subtle call to the void, the movement of the wind off that cliff. Still bouncing slightly with the beat, she strides off the dance floor, ready to take a break. Maybe find another drink, or some conversation.
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Post by Henley on Feb 3, 2022 13:25:43 GMT -8
"Wayland. 'sup?"
Henley slid on up to the crafter, raising whatever Super Cocktail the Winter Court was peddling tonight. He was confident tonight was going to be a night ending in him being well fucked up. He grinned at the reserved Maker, curious to know if she had increased in chill any since their meeting at Mr. Chow. To be fair to her, this event was so not about chill. He folded his hands into his pockets after setting the drink down at a table next to him.
"Been thinking about our last meeting, and I know it's an ask -- I know you're doing projects and whatnot, but I'm wondering if there's any space for a commission? There's a gift I'd like to give... and I think you're the only person I know with the experience and skill to make what I need. It's not a modern thing, you see."
The smile that followed was almost pleading.
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Post by Wayland on Feb 3, 2022 14:45:59 GMT -8
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Nott
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Presence 2 (Animated)
Posts: 25
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Post by Nott on Feb 5, 2022 18:02:20 GMT -8
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Post by Croupier on Feb 5, 2022 20:11:12 GMT -8
Dan had never been one for coming to parties and celebrations. Since he had started working as a dealer; the word "Holiday" had come to mean "Time-and-a-half"; but this was one holiday that Dan had no intentions of working through. A chance to see the last great big hurrah for the Winter Court before Spring came in to bloom? Seeing all these fine upstanding people let their hair down and throw off their inhibitions? How could he pass that sort of chance up?
Growing up, Dan had never been one for the rave scene. For that matter, he had no idea what to expect. Was there a dress code to these things? Or were we all expected to bring our own glowsticks and drugs to the party?
When Dan arrived at the rave, he did so in the finest non-work related clothes: a fine black suit with a matching vest and tie and crimson dress shirt. The light beneath his skin crackled and danced as he stepped into the room, his hands firmly set in his pockets as he surveyed his surroundings in search of some familiar face. Only then did Dan realize that he... really didn't recognize as many people as he had hoped. Unsurprising, as up until now, Dan did his best to stay out of the game the other changelings had played. The chase of his own highs had been at the forefront of his mind for so long, that everything else seemed so unimportant.
And then the events of the last year happened, events that were too close for comfort, and ones that could threaten his hunt, if not his own life. As much as Dan hated to admit it, staying on the sidelines was not going to be an option anymore.
With a heavy sigh, Dan made his way through the gathering crowd and over to the bar. Placing a twenty on the counter, he ordered, "An Old Fashioned. Keep the fruit."
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Post by Gavin Graves on Feb 13, 2022 15:55:56 GMT -8
With the stress of the work he had been doing lately, much of it for the Freehold, it had all welled into a need to put it all down for a minute and just exist. Where previously the idea of approaching a party that had an obvious trajectory of wanton abandon would have left him hesitant and unlikely to attend, this time he found little concern. He had experienced the mind bending liminal spaces of the Thorns, its denizens, and the horror sent by its nearby neighbours. This should be a cakewalk.
Arriving at the warehouse, the thrum of music, buzzing neon, and flashing LED put a dent in his confidence almost immediately. Somehow the sensory overload was of a harsher and more real variety than he had worked up in his mind before coming. It was not enough to stop him. Somehow he was going to find a way to relax and enjoy himself. Business could wait until another day.
He had dressed down to a new breathable white undershirt and blue jeans. Simple and rugged, true to form. The wide spiral scar showing on the back of his left shoulder signed for the tale ending with the Angel of Blades crashing the gates of Aftermath. Checking his bagged equipment on entry, he still couldn't part with the pouch carrying his reagents. It was one layer of preparation he could not put down.
He racked up a couple of shots in quick succession and went to explore the various light displays. Maybe absorbing them individually would take the edge off them as a collection of sensations.
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Post by Golden Boy on Feb 13, 2022 21:21:28 GMT -8
The Spring Ogre's rumours spread through the ranks, though the whispers themselves are only spoken ear to ear under the throb of the music. Henley was already sauced, but was continued to be pulled in several directions with drinks and propositions of all kinds, while Yuan flickered between clusters of Lost like a mercurial chameleon. A few of the Winter agents seemed to approve as the Playmate found himself among them, more than thankful that high spirits were rolling before the collective hallucinations hit. The glittering fractals of a splitting mirror were lost with the reflected LEDs as The Leviathan tumbled from the ceiling. He wasn't expecting the portal to force an aerial, but course corrected on rote instinct. There was an alarmed scatterings as some of the dancers thought a display had blown from the shards and strobe of flashing shadows, staring in perturbed confusion as the thief somersaulted to land in a crouch. He swayed as he stood, swigging a bottle as the thunder of his Mantle rolled through the dancefloor and forced more heads to turn. More than a few eyes widened as the Crown manifested in jagged, feral horns of ice—Nohoilpi's abdication was not public knowledge, and some Winters were still in the dark as to whether the Fairest had even survived Yule. Before any of the bolder Freeholders could march on the younger Lost and demand an update on his Court's goings-on, Golden seemed to remember something as he examined his hand and proceeded to look up. Dropping the bottle, he caught Anthony Cartwright falling right behind him; both falling to the floor from the force and laughing it off in a fit of drunken giggling.
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