entrancelogs | ( open ) get on the floor! don't make a fuss, just do it.

Who: Everyone! Everyone who's anyone, anyway.
Where: The edge of the forest, outside the mansion
When: The evening of the 5th
Rating: No higher than PG-13, probably
Summary: These other parties are not Passione parties, because Passione parties . . . have flowers. And karaoke. Everyone is invited, as of right here, right now.

The Story:

[There is a trail leading from the mansion to the edge of the woods--not on the ground but growing just above it, a bizarre lone sprig of red hyacinth (for future joy) every few yards, bright against the green grass. This path will lead eventually to a door, which looks as though it's always been there but very much wasn't yesterday. It leads to an enclosed courtyard, flanked by trees and hedges both old and new. Those with an affinity for nature may notice that nearly everything here is one with the earth somehow; even the door and its frame are all connected, and there are slender, delicate roots mooring the frame into the dirt below. It's alive. Everything is alive. Consider it a measure of protection.]

[Everything, too, is deliberate. Inside the courtyard, the decor is a mixture of natural and glamorous, all in whites and reds and blacks. Those with an eye for detail will note the flowers are exclusively white chrysanthemum and calla lily (for truth and beauty respectively, but, snidely, there is a two-to-one ratio of chrysanthemum to lily). The lighting is delicate and subtle, candles and torches and hanging lamps and string lights, but it manages to illuminate the entire space even as night begins to fall. There is seating scattered throughout: chairs in clusters of threes, tables with exactly six seats. And, of course, there's food and drink--more than plenty of it. The food is mostly sweet: sfogliatelle and zeppole and taralli all'uovo, with a fruit plate and fresh bread provided very sensibly by someone who isn't Giorno and realizes that there are no dentists here in Wonderland. And wine, of course, of every kind, perhaps too much wine, but please consider: there is no such thing.]

[As for the main event, well--there are eager concessions to Hollywood glamour throughout the courtyard, but the closer one gets to the stage, the more one really feels it. The tables get a bit closer together the nearer you get to the center of attention; a red carpet appears to bloom from nowhere, velvet stretching like a promise to the front. The stage itself is a simple but pointed message: look at this, look at me. The karaoke machine itself is an unobtrusive, svelte-looking thing, far out of the way of the performers. It also contains any song of any genre available from anywhere in the multiverse--which is fortunate, since your hosts' musical repertoire cuts off in mid-2001. Best put your card in to perform now, because it's likely to be highly-contested stage. And don't worry: if you're a wallflower, one or the other (or both) of your hosts will appear at your elbow and nudge you pointedly towards your dramatic debut, whether you like it or not.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The best word to describe Giorno during this event is everywhere. The second-best word is enthusiastic. The third-best word is thematic, from his head to his toes--but then, that's not even close to unusual. For those who haven't already guessed, he absolutely worked on the decorations and should maybe have been reigned in a little. However, trying to get Giorno Giovanna to calm down is no mean feat, whether he's planning a present or a party or a hostile takeover. Not that he ever plans those. Probably.]

[He really does end up everywhere, though. He considers it his sacred duty to make sure that everyone is enjoying themselves, since it's his name on the party as well as Trish's. So he ducks in and out of conversations that are going well, of course, but he also slips up next to the people who are on their own, lingering on the edge of the courtyard or near the food, eyeing the stage. What's your favorite song? he'll ask, and hand them a cookie, and demand their attention, because that is what he does. There's a high possibility they'll end up on stage in a dazed duet, because that's what he does, too.]

[Let it never be said that anyone's left a Giovanna-Una function less than entirely thrilled by their experience. So dance with him, or try to get him to calm the hell down, but be aware that's quite a tall order indeed.]

[This isn't very fun. Okay, yes, it's actually fun, but the guy with the helmet hair looks like he'd rather be somewhere else. It's not fair for everyone else to be having fun and happy when his life is awful. Sure, he could just go with it and enjoy it, but then what would his internal monologue whine about?

Still, he feels drawn to this party for some reason, and its host. It's not like the priest, not exactly (still, it can be chalked up to [GRAVITY] or whatever the plot buzzword of the day is), but it's still a compulsion to be here and to meet this guy.]

Who are you?

[It's delivered rather flatly because Donatello Versace is not an exciting person. Well that and the fact that Underworld just kind of makes bad things happen around him so his life is in a perpetual state of sucking.]

[Ever since a certain raven haired boy had heard about this party, he wasted no time in rushing toward the place as fast as he could. After all, if he and Trish were here, what other people might show up at this party anyway? Granted, with now nice everything was, he couldn't deny that he felt a bit self conscious.

Did he even deserve to be in such a place as nice as this? Even if it was hosted by his mafiosos, it didn't change that he probably shouldn't belong here.

But should Giorno look around, he might happen to find one young orange in the middle of the dance floor dancing away!]

[This party is truly sublime, and Mettaton is enjoying every single second of it. It reminds him of the upper-class, Hollywood parties back home he'd attend (and sometimes host). It's certainly a different breed than the parties Wonderland is hosting, though those events have their charm. He sports a new suit, a bit of a departure from his usual pinks and golds and reds, but it is tailored to his dimensions all the same, striking a slimming and pleasing silhouette. (How did he hide the giant shoulder pads on his form? Shhh.)

He's not alone, however, having ~~dragged~~ brought along his cousin Napstablook. Seeing as they are a ghost and he a robot, the resemblance really isn't there. But he is determined to get his shut-in of a relative out and about and enjoying life, so here they both are, Mettaton looking completely at home in the party atmosphere, and Napstablook looking like a fish out of water. Mettaton does his best to stay near his cousin so they don't float off or panic, but he's not afraid to leave them alone for a bit if it means talking to someone interesting or getting up on that fun little stage there.]

[Polnareff sits in the back, smiling faintly. He has a glass of water and a plate loaded with a little of everything (because eating is something he's missed these past half-year). He waits patiently, his chin resting in one hand, for Giorno to realize he's here. He's only just arrived; it won't be long now before his don catches sight of him.]

[You know how you can tell this is a Passione party? Because the chairs are in clusters of threes, and all the tables have exactly six seats.

God bless us every one, the decor won't be telling anybody to go die tonight.

Unfortunately for everyone concerned, it actually isn't the decor that everyone should be worrying about. No, quite the contrary, what the guests of this particular party ought to be worrying about is the unattended karaoke microphone, and the fact that six highly opinionated entertainers have just discovered it.

And they're doing the rock opera section of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Badly.

When they're not yelling and punching each other, that is.]

[ . . . ah. Well. That's . . . something.

Actually, it's entertaining is what it is. Polnareff watches with an amused air, watching the Pistols as they do their best. They're pretty decent singers, actually, when they get their act together; he wonders if Mista is as well, or if that's an ability all their own.

Once they finish (both singing and fighting), Polnareff applauds. It's not even sarcastic applause, either, though he is chuckling.]

I didn't know they could sing, Mista.

( open ) get on the floor! don't make a fuss, just do it.

giorno giovanna | ota

Hi I brought you a family member

Hi I brought you a somewhat family member

You can have an optional ghost as well! Just say the word and they'll join the thread!

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Guido Mista | OTA

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