[OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

[fuckingcool]

Who| Oceana Gunn and all you party people
What| Oceana's throwing the craziest party of the year to celebrate the end of the Arena, and you're invited. Feel free to mingle, post open starters, and tag around to your heart's content!
Where| Her bachelor(ette) pad in the Capitol
When| Post-Arena, pre-Crowning
Warnings/Notes| Uhhh. Drugs, alcohol, sex, language, etc are all possibilities within!



It's high time that someone threw a really great party in this town.

Oceana's been laying low, working on costumes for the upcoming Crowning and watching her babies kick ass in the Arena, but after a while she gets an itch. An itch to invite hundreds of strangers to her penthouse apartment, dress up in her most sickening clothes, and let the booze pour. So that's exactly what she does. Invitations are sent out, crates of liquor are ordered, food is catered in, and the lights are dimmed way down low.

Her apartment is spacious, minimally decorated because it looks fucking cool and she's barely around anyway, and full of dark corners. The living room has a huge table full of finger foods along one wall, a champagne fountain, and a full bar with virtually endless liquor. The music is loud as hell, and the drag queen has even gone to the trouble of paying people to come early and dance, so that the dance floor is never empty.

The hostess herself will be mingling all evening; the glass of vodka in her hand is never empty, and always garnished with at least six olives. She may not be the classiest bitch in the capitol, but it's apparent by looking around that she knows how to throw a killer soirée.

Comments

[tevintage]

He coughed again before frantically waving down an avox. "Wine," he asked, a little desperately, "please. Immediately." As soon as the request was granted, he took a big gulp just to get rid of the taste in his mouth, and then sighed.

"There, much better. That was absolutely awful."

[dreadinquisitor]

He laughed ruefully, raising his glass to his lips.

"You did say something about masochism, didn't you?" He took a mouthful, held it, and slowly swallowed, letting the bitter edge ease the lingering sweetness. "I think we can safely say that is a wish granted."

Though, to be fair, he hadn't really needed the drink for that.

[tevintage]

"I really should stop setting myself up for it," Dorian replied wryly, taking another long sip of the wine. "This is also nearly as terrible but at least it's drinkable."

It was easy enough to be friendly when they weren't talking about home and Dorian wasn't constantly reminded. Like this, he could just pretend Maxwell was another new face - treat him as friendly as he did everyone else, before he made up his mind about them.

This - this was better. This was alright.

For now.

[dreadinquisitor]

It was harder for Maxwell. The laughing, the teasing - it was so familiar. It was so easy... It made it difficult to remember the new rules. The new place he held.

Stranger. A well-informed, well-intentioned stranger, but still.

He didn't belong.

"I don't know," he replied, joking softly. Half-humor, half-truth. "Everyone needs a hobby."

[tevintage]

"I would infinitely prefer if my current hobby was critiquing Tevinter literature," He said with a raised eyebrow over his glass. "Sampling the generous array of Panem's alcoholic beverages is less a hobby and more a survival mechanism."

[dreadinquisitor]

He'd meant the bite about masochism, in general, but he paused, lips curling in a small, distant sort of smile. "Though as I recall, it did occasionally have similar results. Cursing, threats of fire, books flying through the air..."

[tevintage]

"Yes, but then it was fun." And, also, a survival mechanism. Woops.

He really was a masochist.

"I think we may just be able to slip out of this party, however," he realised after a moment, glancing over at Jason. "If you feel like attempting an escape."

[dreadinquisitor]

There was a pang, so sudden and sharp, all he could do was laugh - the ache too deep to do anything else with. His wine glass bumped against his lip before he could pull his head back and he set it down. Mopping up the dark bead as he glanced sidelong at Jason.

"And when the rumors start flying, how mad will your nanny-goat go?" he asked.

[tevintage]

He made a deep 'ugh' sound, feigning a deep shudder.

"You have absolutely no idea how much I hate him," He said in an incredibly passionate whisper. "But mad enough to see me in some deep trouble, most likely."

It did give him pause. Deep trouble for him meant deep trouble for everyone else, as well. Including Maxwell. He sighed. "I suppose I can suffer this a little while longer."

[dreadinquisitor]

It had been a terrible idea. He knew that, looking at it objectively, and not just for the trouble it would cause with the escort.

But still... there was a twinge of regret. Small and selfish. He pushed it away as quickly as he could and turned back.

"No, we wouldn't want that," he said, expression softening. He turned back, took in Dorian's face, and willed a small smile. "...But there's no harm in standing here quietly, picturing him on the receiving end of one Sera's bee jars, is there?"