OPEN | the "Lost People" mingle!

[boyhood]

Who: Every lonely person with a story to tell! (Check out the OOC details if you haven't yet!) Oh, and Peter Pan (boyhood), too.
Where: Mingles are out on the mansion grounds.
When: June 4th-6th, night.
Rating: PG-13? We'll see.
Summary: Peter is up to old tricks. Using his influence as the Pied Piper, Peter gathers together everyone in Wonderland he can for a celebration. Are you ready to make some new friends, sad sacks? This doubles as a convenient excuse to see how many vulnerable children there are.
The Story:



So you heard a little tune on the air and you've come to play! The more, the merrier. Night 1 isn't strictly an action event, but if you'd like to have your characters react, or just want to thread something out for that time, go for it. Night 2 and Night 3 are where the action's at. The prompts are general ideas of what's going on!

Anyone who isn't invited is going to find they can't figure out where everyone's disappeared to, exactly, and if they do go to a location, it's going to look like nothing's going on. Strange, huh? For those who are invited, he only rule is this: mingle to your hearts' content! Make new posts, tag into things, do what makes the most fun!

After each night, everyone will be free to disperse before the sun comes up. They'll wake up in their beds feeling refreshed, with the pleasant, surreal sense they've just had a sweet dream.

Except it wasn't really a dream, was it?

Comments

[braiding]

[ for once, finnick hadn't been on the beach when he had heard the alluring music. the only music he'd ever heard in his life had either been that crafted from his own fingers or from those of his father's — or the games anthem, booming throughout panem, shaking the entire country with doom and grief. unsure of what to expect, finnick, at first, is wary, until that feeling dissipates, sliding from his skin like water, into something new and almost foreign. he feels himself relaxing, smiling without the peacock tint to his mouth, as he ventures throughout the forest, following the fires burning and leading the way around the party sight. ]

[ following the torchlight, finnick snags himself a mask of a peacock — fitting, almost; despite feeling he has shed himself of those feathers, plucking them from the muscles of his skin, he still desires to hide behind the mask for an odd reason that's blurred and lingering in his peripheral — but doesn't place it on his face just yet. he continues to venture down this pathway, trying to find a mask that reminds him of annie, johanna, katniss, haymitch — and mags, the thought no longer bringing him grief, but almost peace. ]

[ late evening, he wears his mask, and finds himself pulled out toward the group bonfire dance by the pale kid with the pipe. and it's not so bad, losing a few of those stiff feathers and letting himself actually fly, rather than be grounded by the chains of president snow's poisonous fingertips. ]

[camebefore]

[A peacock feather is held between Hannibal's fingers. A black furred wolf's mask is pulled down over Hannibal's face, blending back into his dark hair to hide all of his features. While Pan's music doesn't allow for Hannibal's psyche to retreat and hide for defense as he would have liked, the mask is a comfortable middle ground. Only his thin-lipped mouth remains visible and in a smile he would never wear.]

[He head turns towards Finnick as his and Pan's wild dance ends, finding the one who they had belonged to. His smile widens with a bit of teeth showing before a second one that is drifting slowly to the ground is snared up. With two prizes, the wolf starts weaving his way through the other dancers.]

[A small short salute is given to Finnick, Hannibal touching the tip of the beautiful feathers to his temple and towards Finnick before trying to blend in with the other dancers and shifting firelight.]

[braiding]

[ the need to survive doesn't rate as high tonight. the need to don his own mask — the one that feels as though he's become a second layer of skin, grimy and bloody and caked on thick like the foundation those within the capitol wear — isn't there at all. finnick's guard is lowered, himself almost at ease within the company of those he's been warned strictly and tersely about — and when a wolf with a peacock feather so much as salutes him, the finnick odair whose hackles would raise at such a sight doesn't think too much of it. ]

[ it's not because there's safety within the bonfire, the music almost dulling all of finnick's usually heightened senses, but because there's nothing to fear — finnick's enemy, despite his own constant thoughts, is nowhere in wonderland, far across the expanse of many oceans, perhaps on the other side of the world. it's a snake, pure white, that finnick worries of, not a black wolf who so much as glances his way with a salute that could almost be mocking. ]

[ perhaps it's a flicker of finnick, untouched by the music, that resurfaces, keeping his eyes on the wolf, despite his own smile and sheepish grin back, his own feathers somehow lost or plucked from his own back without so much as feeling the hands hold his own body down in order to tweeze it out of him. his feet move of their own volition, his gaze wavering from taking in the sights, thinking of joining in with the dancing, and on the black wolf himself. ]

[stillplaying]

[It's probably easy to spot a mask that might remind one of Katniss. Of the girl on fire, her mischievous grey eyes hidden behind a mask of red and gold, flames dancing along the edges. She's been here for some time now, long enough to loosen the restraints she keeps on herself. Tonight, tonight Katniss is being social. She's being the girl that she could have grown up to be had life not taken the turns it had.

Had the Hunger Games, perhaps, never existed.

A look of delight crosses her face when she sees Finnick arrive. She doesn't hesitate to hurry over, smile wide.] Finnick!

[braiding]

[ he almost doesn't recognise her. if she hadn't called out, he most likely wouldn't have — finnick odair takes in builds, facial tics, and tones of voice, knowing who it is he's speaking to the moment they open their mouths or move toward him in a throng of people. but this finnick, with his guard down and his edges softer, is without his raised hackles and defenses erected to keep him safe from prying, sharp fingers, and mouths coated in the blood of poison. katniss everdeen may be familiar, but she's still an enigma — one he'd walk by, especially with his sight dulled and his own desire to keep tabs on those around him almost null and void, if she hadn't called out for his attention. ]

[ the mask should easily give her away, him instantly associating it with fire. but wearing said mask isn't something he'd ever predict katniss everdeen, the girl who dislikes smiling, to ever wear. it's something that's almost childish and, dare he say it, fun — and finnick suspects katniss has never quite embraced it, too afraid of it being stolen away from her much like her own childhood. ]

[ glancing up, he smiles, eyebrows raised. furrowing them, he purposefully lets his gaze glide over her, feigning confusion. ] Who's this? This isn't — No, this can't be Katniss Everdeen.

[stillplaying]

[The mask doesn't entirely hide the blush that crosses her face at Finnick's words. In his memories, they hadn't lived through those almost peaceful minutes of seafood fests along the coast of the clock arena. The stolen moments of fun she had shared with Finnick and Peeta. Nor had he yet experienced the bonds they had formed in District 13. It confuses her still, even as she's come to accept it.

But with the blush comes a smile even as she reaches out for his hand.]

I can have fun. [She tugs him in the direction of the fire.] Sometimes. Please come dance with me?