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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"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!"

"Because you started sayin' shit about what I was doing that I wasn't doing!"

"Well it sure sounded like it, Harley!"

Harley almost spilled her drink with how sharp the exasperated gesture she made with it was.

"Yeah 'cause ya don't-- And here she was going to emphasize both of these words separately. "-- listen! You're just usin' a map you have and not letting the streets you're on tell ya any different! Only you're also getting mad at them!"

Pam reached up to rub her forehead. "I don't know why I'm even trying," she muttered. "Are you even listening to yourself when you say things like-- what set off this whole argument?"

"Are you?!" Harley asked. Or maybe demanded. It sounded like a demand. "You took what you heard and decided that was me putting myself down. But what do I care if a buncha bozos with bad taste don't like me? I don't like 'em either! I don't care! If they get annoyed, good! A lot of the time I annoy them on purpose 'cause that's what they deserve! I wasn't talking about people I want to like me."

Those people were a whole different, far more complicated story.

She snorted. It was loud. "But you... You just couldn't wait to get to, what? Berating me for having poor self-esteem? Which I do, but not around whether complete idiots fuckin' like me, Pam! And I am sick of people tryin' to tell me what I'm allowed to feel or say."

"Well, good!"

What else could she say to that? Besides acknowledge how intensely stupid it was for her to talk to this Harley in the first place?

"That's it?!" Harley... demanded. It was for sure a demand, this time.

Not a particularly impressed one, either.

"What else do you want me to say?" Pam asked, exasperated in her own right.

"That you're sorry."

Felt obvious to Harley. And her bruised feelings.

"Fine," Pam said, feeling exhaustion sink in. "I'm sorry. Happy now?"

"Yes," Harley said, mostly feeling the urge to cross her arms in front ofher chest, but, too awkward with the drink. (It was an awkward feeling driving the urge, too.) "Not enough people ever apologize to me."

"Good!" Pam said again.

Ugh. Now she wanted a--

"I'm going to go get a drink."

'Good' that she was happy, or 'good' that not enough people said sorry? You'd think it would be clear, but Harley had just had a lot of vitriol thrown in her face supposedly in the name of being concerned about her(?), so...

"Right," she said. "Okay."

The former. Obviously.

Pam shook her head. The 'have a good party' was right there on her tongue, ready to go out, and--

"Do you want me to grab you anything?"

Still grumpy. A little flat. But still.

Harley looked at her like that question made no sense. "I'm good, thanks, I can get my own."

She also planned to skedaddle to a whole different part of the room as soon as Pam's back was turned. That was definitely a factor.

Well, so much for that attempted olive branch. (It was probably for the best.)

"All right," Pam said. "Have a nice party."

And then she turned her back to go.

Re: Arrive and Mingle

totalwildcard - 2024-11-02 11:16 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All