[NYE Party] happy new year and lots of fun

[nascensibility]

Who: EVERYONE, but especially you!
Where: Wonderland Ballroom
When: New Year's Eve
Rating: PG - PG13 (will change if applicable)
Summary: New Year's Eve Party
The Story:

[ Previously in the month all residents received an invitation to a formal event: a black tie affair to ring in the New Year. The ballroom and adjacent areas are decked out for the party starting at eight o'clock sharp, meticulously planned and executed, glittering décor to match the no doubt glittering attire as music pours into the halls from the dance floor.

Bars flank each side, service for all manner of alcohol unless a minor requests something, and the primary setting stage features an enormous clock for the countdown. ]




[ Where will you be when the clock strikes midnight? ]

Comments

[postictal]

[If he’s not careful, he’s going to end up gaining a reputation for being more talented than he actually is. It’s not that he’s bad at music, but it’s also. It like he’s gotten a lot of mileage out of playing after his house burned. Despite how long he’s been here, in Wonderland, picking things up again still feels like an indulgence he can ill afford.]

[It might be the wrong decision, but fuck it - it’s his.]

[He almost looks embarrassed when Elena spots him, yet again with an instrument in hand, like he’s some kind of musical guy. He’s not. He’s just some...asshole with a guitar. Like shitty college roomies who play “Wonderwall.”]

...I’m not usually one for this, honestly. [It’s a weak excuse. He knows it.] Can’t even blame cookies this time.

[interpersonal]

( if elena notes any embarrassment, she doesn't make mention of it, much less does she draw attention. damon was similarly affected by the cookies, forced to exhibit a cheer that absolutely didn't belong to him. she's a little sad to find she may not have really met tim like she thought. )

Would it really be so bad if you were?

( everyone needs some kind of outlet, something that inspires them. )

[postictal]

I mean, I'm pretty sure playing music and stuff is for people with actual talent, so.

[It's never been more than a hobby, for him - he can't afford for it to be anything other than one. Or rather, he's never allowed himself the outlet. Maybe...]

[Hell. Maybe it's a new year to try a lot of things.]

[interpersonal]

( elena kinda wants to argue it's not all about talent, aside from the fact she doesn't think he lacks it entirely, but it feels kinda pushy for someone who's just met him. she settles for some lighter compromise that doesn't ignore his response. )

I've always kind of thought what matters most is just loving whatever you're doing.

( if it serves you, if it heals you, if it grows you -- why not? )

Are you just looking for a break from the party, then? ( he admittedly doesn't strike her as a party animal ok. )

[postictal]

["I don't love anything."]

[He almost lets that slip out, like fifty percent a joke and fifty percent a bitter reality, but casual existential despair doesn't exactly go real great at parties. It's like pairing wine with cheetos; sure, it's possible, but you just end up having unhealthy regrets afterward.]

Yeah, pretty much. I'm, uh...I guess I "celebrated" last year, so I figured I should this year too. [That's a flimsy-ass excuse, Tim.]

What about you? You, uh...big on parties, or...?

[interpersonal]

( it's totally flimsy, especially when the person in question is as much of a people reader as elena. she doesn't look convinced, but her suspicion is mildly amused more than anything else. besides, she has her own flimsy excuse at the ready, not that she ends up using it at the last minute.

glancing over to the ornate ballroom doors, she tugs a small breath in. )

I used to be? But sometimes that feels like a lifetime ago.

( and last new year's eve had lucifer nearly killing someone because of her, so that. was a thing. )

I guess I'm trying to see if some things can still matter.

[postictal]

[BOY, WAS THAT THE TALK OF THE TOWN. Good thing that's not, uh, the subject of the moment. Good lord.]

[That's an earnest response that he almost...didn't really expect. Though, now that he thinks of it, why didn't he expect it? He's not the only person who's still grappling for a modicum of meaning, he knows. Or rather - he wasn't. He's kind of landed himself a whole mess of people whose lives he'll fight for, and a revolution he might want to inspire, and...god.]

[God. He has attachments. It's bizarre.]

[He strums out one short spurt of a chord, sucking on the wall of his cheek, before shooting her a look with lifted eyebrows.]

Got a verdict?