finchwoodacademy | VELVET ROOM PARTY

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VELVET ROOM PARTY

VELVET ROOM PARTY

All of the students who RSVPed on Khalil's journal post fall asleep surprisingly early Saturday night, some recognizing their own fatigue and calling it a night early while others drift off accidentally on couches or at desks. Regardless of how difficult they normally find it, this sleep is deep and comes over them quickly and completely. When their eyes open next, they're not in their dorms anymore. Instead, they're... in an old school roller rink? The rink itself is large and has a disco ball suspended above it; music is pumping through the speaker system, though the DJ booth off to the side of the rink is vacant. There's a concession stand stocked with various snacks, different kids of booze, and soda, alongside which there are tables to sit at. Off to one side there's a circle of low, ottoman-like seats for Spin the Bottle, and nearby is a utility closet, complete with broom to totally get in your way, for Seven Minutes in Heaven. There are also a few 'party rooms' if you need a little bit of privacy, but the doors don't lock and there are windows in the doors, so, you know. Everything looks pretty typical, except for the blue door at the far end of the building where the entrance would be.

As at the other parties, the students find that they're not wearing what they were when they went to bed. Now, they're dressed in (primarily blue) clothes that are a little bit retro. Like, 80's and 90's retro. There's an abundance of neon, tight fitting materials, and loud patterns, all of which, honestly, look pretty great under the lights on the rink. The party's host, meanwhile, wears a striped referee shirt with deep blue instead of black stripes, and has a whistle hanging around his neck that's going to be a little ineffectual, what with his mask and all. When the partygoers arrive he's standing behind the counter at the skate rental area, arms spread out and braced on the counter. Come check out a pair of skates and get to skating! Or, like, whatever you want to do, he guesses.

Early in the evening, Khalil approaches Thalia Mitchell with a request... can she name his friend? Alongside him is the mysterious Velvet Room denizen Thalia had seen before. Though her body language suggests she's not entirely pleased with it, they settle on Joni (Mitchell) as her name, and she spends most of the party wandering around and avoiding speaking too much with anyone. Meredith Rhydderch overhears a conversation with Khalil and Joni, where Khalil suggests she personally apologize to Marzio Sarno, Slade Winchester, Russell Reeve, and Luke Pokorny for scaring them. She refuses, but does at least take the time to sneak a glance at each of them.

StB & 7MiH

Adam Ho StB #1: Rose StB #2: Sullivan 7MiH: Dustin	Atticus Starling StB #1: Lyle StB #2: Neal 7MiH: Slade	Blake Hasenkamp StB #1: Dustin StB #2: Monet 7MiH: Josephine	Clarissa Day StB #1: Pearl StB #2: Sullivan 7MiH: Venus
Conway Loxton StB #1: Kodi StB #2: Slade 7MiH: Justice	Dustin Espinosa StB #1: Blake StB #2: Marzio 7MiH: Adam	Eli Gardner StB #1: Liam StB #2: Thalia 7MiH: Petra	Flint Chambers 7MiH: Sullivan
Hadlee Loxton StB #1: Henry StB #2: Meredith 7MiH: Rose	Hamsi Khan StB #1: Jude StB #2: Noah	Henry Arany StB #1: Hadlee StB #2: Neal 7MiH: Lyle	Josephine Linville StB #1: Petra StB #2: Slade 7MiH: Blake
Jude Tobin StB #1: Hamsi StB #2: Venus 7MiH: Thalia	Justice Bishop StB #1: Lillian StB #2: Luke 7MiH: Conway	Kodi Hansen StB #1: Conway StB #2: Zinnia 7MiH: Martin	Liam Blumenthal StB #1: Eli StB #2: Lyle
Lillian Armstrong StB #1: Justice StB #2: Petra 7MiH: Suzy	Luke Pokorny StB #1: Mason StB #2: Justice 7MiH: Noah	Lyle Hemmings StB #1: Atticus StB #2: Liam 7MiH: Henry	Martin Geary StB #1: Marzio StB #2: Pearl 7MiH: Kodi
Marzio Sarno StB #1: Dustin StB #2: Martin	Mason Chambers StB #1: Luke StB #2: Venus 7MiH: Meredith	Meredith Rhydderch StB #1: Hadlee StB #2: Noah 7MiH: Mason	Monet Romilly StB #1: Blake StB #2: Zinnia 7MiH: Neal
Neal Valentine StB #1: Atticus StB #2: Henry 7MiH: Monet	Noah Dressler StB #1: Hamsi StB #2: Meredith 7MiH: Luke	Pearl Kline StB #1: Clarissa StB #2: Martin 7MiH: Zinnia	Petra Warren-Yates StB #1: Josephine StB #2: Lillian 7MiH: Eli
Rose Chapman StB #1: Adam StB #2: Thalia 7MiH: Hadlee	Slade Winchester StB #1: Conway StB #2: Josephine 7MiH: Atticus	Sullivan Sinclair StB #1: Adam StB #2: Clarissa 7MiH: Flint	Suzy Choi 7MiH: Lillian
Thalia Mitchell StB #1: Eli StB #2: Rose 7MiH: Jude	Venus Rosales StB #1: Jude StB #2: Mason 7MiH: Clarissa	Zinnia Howe StB #1: Kodi StB #2: Monet 7MiH: Pearl

» SKATE RENTAL: Khalil is handing out skates when he's not 'policing' the rink! Fill out the form to see what, uh, unique skates or blades you get!

» THE RINK: No one will yell at you if you walk out in your sneakers to dance in the center, but it is more fun if you skate, you know? The DJ booth alongside the rink has a computer hooked up with access to a lot of music, if you want to pick some beats.

» CONCESSION STAND & TABLES: Stocked with just about anything you could want food-wise and drink-wise. As usual, a couple of the items are blue that shouldn't be, like the popcorn. Right next to the concession stand are tables where you can take a seat, chill out, and stuff your face with everything you grabbed.

» PARTY GAMES: A small circle of ottoman-like seats has been set up for party games off to the side of the tables! Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven are the mainstays, but it's easy enough to start your own games, too! Nearby there's a tiny utility closet that's a tight squeeze for two people.

» PARTY ROOMS: There are three side rooms set up with tables and lots of blue balloons, like they've been set up for birthday parties. The doors on these rooms don't lock, and there are small windows on the doors, so they're only slightly private.

» END OF THE NIGHT: At some point (god, how long has it been?), there's a feeling of restlessness in the air, as though night is coming to a close and they'll be waking up soon. Best to get your last hurrahs in!

» OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!

Please note: Students arrive with nothing they had on them in the real world (including their journals) - so no journaling while here! If you can find Khalil, you can ask him for things, though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's late, and everyone is taking off their skates. Time is meaningless here, but it feels like they're nearing the end. How long have they been partying? Three hours? Six? Ten? Neal can't tell. The old digital watch on his hand doesn't seem to be reflecting any real numbers.

Just in his socks, Neal weaves his way over to Dustin with a bright grin. "Guess who doesn't love me," he teases with all the trappings of someone who's in a good mood.

Dustin's sitting down on a bench when Neal makes his way over. He hasn't skated at all tonight, but he is drunk enough that re-tying his shoe is taking a little more concentration than he cares to admit. He's just managed a careful double-knot when he hears the incongruously-merry voice over his right shoulder.

"Oh," Dustin exhales. He looks up. "Neal."

There's a funny undertone to it — an unpalatable blend of chastisement and, worse still, terrible gentleness that hangs too-heavy in the air. He doesn't know what Neal has done, but he senses there's something and that, despite the other boy's natural puckishness, it won't be a joke.

Dustin turns his body slightly, angling their conversation in about ten degrees towards the wall and it fails to create even the illusion of privacy, but oh well. He tries.

Neal sits right next to Dustin, far too close. Their legs brush, and then without warning Neal leans into Dustin for support that he doesn't actually need. He's laughing, but he's not sure why. After all, this night sealed it sealed it. Atticus wasn't just dodging or thinking about it, he's just over Neal. There is no silver lining. It's just not going to work out.

"I talked to Atticus," he murmurs, low and slurred, "guess what he said?"

Dustin may be well-past tipsy, but he's still solidly built, a stabilising presence. He lets Neal slump against him, then reaches out an arm, pulling him into something close to a one-sided hug. His thumb moves in small, comforting circles. He has a feeling he knows what Atticus said.

"What?" He asks, nonetheless.

Edited (dustin is, in no way, a "stabilising present") 2019-01-21 17:42 (UTC)

Neal is only encouraged to invade Dustin's space. Despite himself, he is comforted, surprised to find he wanted comfort at all. He presses his face into Dustin's neck, too drunk to think better of it.

"No." Neal sighs, almost wistful. "But in an Atticus way. You know. I'm sorry, it's a bad idea... that kind of thing."

Dustin exhales, and rests his chin on the top of Neal's head. It's probably a little too intimate for the relationship they share, but his head is sloshing with complicated thoughts and a record-setting amount of alcohol, and right now, he just feels bad for Neal. This aching sort of heartbreak doesn't suit the other boy, who has always struck Dustin as too sharp, too bright, to be worn down by the mundane grind of unrequited love, and he finds it inspires a strange protectiveness in him.

He knows Atticus well, and as Neal speaks, he can almost hear his friend's voice instead.

"He does care about you," Dustin offers. For what it's worth, he means it as a consolation.

Neal is still for a moment, just allowing himself to be held. How long has it been? Years, easily. But the signals are crossed in his head, either from alcohol or unfamiliarity. He knows Atticus cares about him, but not in the same way. There's a disconnect, just like there is with him and Dustin. He's drawn to Dustin, but Dustin's not drawn in the same way. Like trying to get two magnets of opposite polarities to click. There's something there, but not the right thing.

Neal finds the pulse on Dustin's neck, and kisses it. He lets his teeth drag against the skin, light and delicate, but heavy with intent.

As the night goes on, Flint's thoughts return to the promise he made earlier tonight, which hadn't exactly been a promise, except for the queasy, acidic feeling in his stomach that tells him he's messed up again.

It takes longer than it should for him to find Scout again. Just as Flint is sure that Scout already left the party, there he is, golden-haired and all in denim, which is an absurd look that does nothing to dim Flint's affection for him.

"Scout. Hi." It would be easier if he didn't feel this way, easier if he could stop it from showing on his face in a helpless smile. "It's, uh. Getting pretty late."

When Flint happens upon Scout, he's close to leaving - he's trying to free himself from his skates at one of the far tables. There's an embarrassing little flip-flop in his stomach as he hears the other boy's voice, given how they'd parted ways, but he manages a smile as he looks up. He looks a little flushed from trying to not die on skates while drunk. He also maybe looks a little relieved.

"Hey. Yeah, it is." He pulls off a skate and starts at untying the other while he continues to watch the other boy, fingers clumsy. "Did'ja manage to have any fun?"

"I suppose I did," Flint answers wryly. "Here, let me." Without waiting for an answer, he crouches in front of Scout and gently pushes his hands off. Flint's head still feels just light enough to be here, but much of tonight's drunkenness has burned off, and his fingers can handle the laces better.

He takes his time though, trying to draw out this moment before everything gets tangled again. "How was the rink?"

"You'll figure out the whole fun thing one day," Scout jokes, his voice a little quieter as Flint crouches down. His fingers curl, unsure of where to go now that they've lost their job, and they end up settling on either side of him on the bench seat. Having Flint untie his laces for him should probably be embarrassing, but for the moment it just feels nice, and soft, and like they're both doing ok. His head is swimming a little.

"It was fun, I guess. I was - am - a tad drunk, so it was... challengin', anyway." He hesitates a moment before adding, "I figured you'd be gone by now."

"I can't believe I stayed this long either. But..." Flint keeps his eyes on the knots instead of Scout's face, which makes it easier to find his words. He always does better when he has something to do with his hands. "I didn't want to leave without seeing you."

His fingers touch the back of Scout's calf, and he tugs the skate off. With his job done, Flint immediately sits back on his heels, creating distance between them again.

"I should've kept an eye out for you skating. I bet you were... great. Drunk and all." He laughs slightly, and looks off.

Scout hates how 'I didn't want to leave without seeing you' makes him feel, and it's even more unwieldy when he's drunk. A flutter, a warmth, a desire to do something or say something more. He exhales a little laugh as the skate is pulled off, embarrassed with himself and, somehow, the touch on his calf.

"There you go again, bein' too generous with me."

While Flint is trying not to look at him, Scout is watching his friend closely, and the fluttery, light feeling is slipping away. Something has been off for a little while now. Something is still off. He's convinced he's slipped up somewhere - been too affectionate, looked at Flint too long, been obvious about his feelings in other ways. In the past he's generally regretted being direct about things, but his drunkenness is making him a little reckless.

"Hey, Flint. Have I... done somethin' wrong? If... you tell me, I can do better."

Flint's brown eyes snap up to Scout's face. "No," he protests. God, this is his fault. "Scout, no. You haven't done anything. It's me. I'm sorry. I guess I... I don't know how to be okay with everything lately. But I've been trying to be a good friend."

This explanation—as rambling as it is—sounds hollow as soon as it drops from his lips. Wouldn't it have been noble, if Flint had been doing this for anyone's sake but his own? If he'd been so brave and honest, instead of reckless and unkind, like he always gets when he loses control of his wants.

"...Sorry." Flint dusts off the knees of his jeans, and stands. "That probably doesn't make any sense."

The response Scout gets is a surprise to him - how is any of this Flint's fault? It definitely doesn't make sense to him; he's sure it's his fault. And the oddities in their relationship started before they'd heard about the previous Persona user's deaths, so it can't be just that. When Flint goes to stand he does too, unsteady on his feet and suddenly filled with panic. He reaches for Flint's wrist, partially for stability, partially to keep him from leaving.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. You're always a good friend. A great friend. I just... somethin' is different. And I know I've been..." Wrong, weird, too much, probably. He takes a breath to collect himself, to try to find something to say without saying the entire truth. "Needy, with your time."

Flint is already there, halfway into stepping closer, his arm moving to support him. When Scout grabs him, he freezes at the desperation in Scout's grip, and stares back at him, not quite hearing what he's saying. Scout will always reassure him that he isn't doing anything wrong—that's Scout Thoroughgood for you, a boy incapable of seeing faults in anyone except himself.

He should pull away. Except Flint wants to stay here, in this emptying roller rink. He wants to close his eyes and tell himself this is a dream. He wants, selfishly, for Scout to not remember this conversation in the morning.

"I like when you need me." He laughs, more nervousness than humor. They're standing too close. "Maybe too much."

Scout feels a little dizzy from standing up so quickly, so bracing on Flint is nice. Of course, it's just nice to just be close, too, so he keeps his fingers curled around his friend's wrist, though his grip is loose now that he's not worried he's going to leave.

He actually closes his eyes for a moment, trying to rebalance himself and calm the sudden burst of panic that had jolted him up in the first place, listening to Flint speak. When his eyes open, he feels a little better. Almost reflexively, he lets out a little laugh too.

"You...?" A pause, as he more fully processes Flint's words, turns them over in his head as best he can right now. "Well I'd... probably spend most of my time with you, if I could, because..." He's hesitant to finish the sentence, and glances off instead.

Flint watches Scout pick his way through halting words, and look away from him, leaving too much unsaid. Because? The silence is unbearable, but asking would be even more selfish. Flint does want it: real happiness, not to pretend. He wants this to be the reason he survives what they all signed up for.

But if this can't be his happiness, maybe he could still stand it. If Scout didn't want him, he could stand staying by his side anyway, so long as he was needed.

"You have me," Flint says. He turns his arm in Scout's grip, so he can hold Scout's wrist too. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

Scout pulls in a slow breath, his energy and feelings all over the place. He's too drunk for this, probably. Too drunk to process if there's anything underneath everything Flint's said, too drunk to really be making decisions about what he should say or do.

Flint had just said he didn't want to date, right? And this doesn't have to be dating. It doesn't have to be anything past this moment. The nervous energy in him is threatening to spill out, and maybe it's better to not say anything and instead just do something. Then he can maybe claim that it was just a drunken mistake tomorrow, if he needs to. So Flint won't go anywhere.

He leans in to kiss the other boy, sure but light and not overly eager.

Flint lets it happen. With their hands holding each other in place, he couldn't have pulled away anyway, and the moment's ceased to feel all that real. Closing his eyes shuts out the dancing lights but not the music, some synthesized pop hit that played on the radio before they were even born. Scout's lips are careful, but unambiguous in their intent. This isn't how he imagined this moment. He hadn't imagined this moment at all.

"Scout—" Flint leans back, catching his lower lip between his teeth to stop whatever words are coming next. He can feel it bubbling up in his head, all the reasons he shouldn't, he can't, you're drunk and I'll ruin this; but Scout is right there, and they might die anyway. His hand goes to Scout's cheek, and Flint kisses him again, not caring how obvious it is that he needs him too.

The moment they've parted, Scout very nearly apologizes and tries to pull away, but Flint's looking at him, and he's still a little dizzy. He's wondering silently how much of a mistake this was when the other boy's hand moves to rest on his cheek, and then, luckily, most thoughts fly out of his head. That can be a problem for future, more sober Scout - right now he presses forward again to meet Flint.

When they finally pull apart, Flint's face feels red hot, and he can't stop smiling. Thank God the lighting is dim in here.

"Come on." He pulls Scout's arm over his shoulders, and slides an arm around Scout's waist, for support. Scout barely looks to be in any state to walk on his own, much less to talk about this. "Let's get you back to bed, Mr. Thoroughgood."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

VELVET ROOM PARTY

END OF THE NIGHT

Neal and Dustin

Neal and Dustin

Neal and Dustin

Neal and Dustin

Neal and Dustin

Neal and Dustin

Neal and Dustin

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout

Flint & Scout