deathsmajesty | The Creepy And Now Holiday-Appropriate Mansion, Thursday Evening

The Creepy And Now Holiday-Appropriate Mansion, Thursday Evening

Once again, the gate that blocked off the bottom end of Phoenix Way was opened, inviting everyone to the creepy (though much less abandoned) mansion. This time, however, instead of being guided around to the gardens, the lit path led them to the front door, where the a tall figure in a tattered robe and deep cowl gestured for them to step inside the door and get onto a...boat? Once people had climbed in settled themselves, the ferryman began to guide the ship down the River Styx. Or, okay, their long entrance hallway, with blue lights to either side of their boat to mimic water and bathing everyone in an eerie blue glow. (Yes, okay, the boat perhaps wheeled down the hallway rather than floated, but they had not refinished this house just to flood the hallway for verisimilitude. Even if Liliana had considered it for a few minutes.)

The double doors leading to the ballroom were opened, with thick fog rolling out of the doorway. And through that doorway, people could descend the stairs into the Underworld proper. Black and gold were the prevailing color, with deep red nods to a pomegranate motif. Gold coins and loose gemstones added to the decor, a nod to Hades' wealth - but even amidst all the dark opulence, touches of other colors could be seen: tucked away in various corners and small niches were flowering plants, a surprise kiss of springtime to be found in the least likely places. Rather than one large chandelier, they had several, creating areas of both light and shadow around the ballroom.

Welcome to the Underworld, dear friends.

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"Thank you." She'd known Harley long enough to find the core of the compliment in there. (And some of the other feelings surrounding it, even if Pam wasn't particularly good at navigating that.) "I'm..."

She thought of Boc.

"...Trying to fit in," she said. "In some way or another."

"Well, you're doin' such a good job," Harley replied, "that I didn't even notice ya."

Only because she hadn't been looking, for anyone. Steven wasn't going to be there, and Marc wouldn't have been even if the body had been, so...

No particular reason for Harley to have scanned the crowd.

(She hadn't expected Pamela to show, no.)

Why not? Because she'd been a shy, if enthusiastic, wallflower back in college?

That felt like lifetimes ago.

"Sorry," Pam said. "I wasn't trying to surprise you. I guess I just didn't... anticipate you being here."

Harley gave her a confused look.

"But it's a party," she said. "Do you know how little actually happens in this pocket-sized town? Of course I'm gonna be here!"

Unless she got distracted! Or found something better to do.

"Or you could have been doing anything but hang around in this pocket-sized town," Pam pointed out. "I'm actually surprised you haven't been going stir-crazy around here."

"How would anyone even be able to tell the difference?"

Was this a genuine question or a joke about her mental health? You decide!

"By paying attention."

That, on the other hand, was entirely serious.

"Not a lotta people are gonna do that," Harley had to point out. "They get vexed out of payin' attention way before they start noticing things!"

"I'm not a lot of people," Pam said. Her voice had quieted more. "And you deserve better than that."

Harley blinked at her.

And then squinted at her.

"Is that like a theme I don't know about?" she asked. "Is there a secret sign above my little noggin --" Yes, she gestured above and around her head, for emphasis. "-- that I can't see that says 'Tell me I what ya think I deserve', or what?"

No, Pam, you weren't the first to say that lately.

"Yes," Pam said, meeting her eyes. There was a touch more cool defiance to her now. "It's called 'you putting yourself down in front of people who care about--' well. Any version of you."

She shook her head. "What did you expect me to say to that, Harley?" she said. "'You're right, you're so annoying, you're lucky anyone wants to spend time with you'? To enable that voice in your head? When I know that's not true?"

Edited 2024-11-01 06:20 (UTC)

"There's not a voice in my head," Harley replied, on a laugh that was more deeply incredulous than it was anything else. Like she didn't know what to do with that. "A lotta people don't like me 'cause I'm an acquired taste that they don't have."

"Yeah," Pam said, looking up at the ceiling for a second in exasperation. "There's the voice."

"What, I'm not allowed to be self-aware?"

And Pam's eyes landed back on her. "There's a difference between being self-aware and putting yourself down before anyone else can, Harls."

Harley frowned hard, then immediately raised her eyebrows high, and pointed at Pam.

"Yeah, from what I'm hearing, you seem to be doin' it for me."

"You're the one calling yourself an acquired taste," Pam retorted. Hotly. "You're the one grilling me for saying you deserve better."

The vehemence would probably come as a surprise to most people Pam had met on the island. Probably even to Harley, who'd only known the shy, people-pleasing veneer that used to keep all of that kneejerk anger wrapped tight.

It was not likely to surprise anyone at home.

Yeah, this Harley was leaning back with a perturbed expression on her face.

"You're the one that brought deserving into it in the first place!" she pointed out, her voice going a touch squeaky. "That's a weird value call to make over facts, Pammy!"

"They're not facts," Pam snarled.

Some people didn't appreciate Harley properly, sure. But that was because they were short-sighted idiots.

But she caught herself a moment later, and shook her head. "No. I'm not doing this again."

"Yelling at me for no fucking reason?" Harley checked with a very pointed - and exaggerated - raise of her eyebrows. "I should fucking hope not, I'm tryin' to enjoy a nice party, here, and you're really harshing the vibe with your -- your faulty psychoanalysis and not listening to me!"

"Trying to talk sense into you while you're..."

Pam waved a general hand in her direction.

"I did enough of that when you were with that monster."

Harley sputtered. "You weren't there!" she exclaimed. "There wasn't anyone there when I was with Mr. J!"

Okay, the point she was trying to make was that she wasn't that Harley. Alternative readings may have presented themselves, however.

"No, but I was there with her!"

And this Harley, as far as she could tell, was still Harley, even if she wasn't her Harley.

"Every single time he kicked her out, she came to me. I remember. Vividly."

Edited 2024-11-02 08:20 (UTC)

"That's not my fault!" Harley squawked. "Why are you taking it out on me?!"

Because yes, that was what it felt like to this Harley, like something was being taken out on her that she had no part in! God!

"I'm not taking it out on you! You started arguing with me!"

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