#col22dmc

[alois-the-real-boy]

a. van asch ⇌ c. modius pdd 2

[ sometime after midnight ]

Alois: Hey

Alois: You too salty about torren losing to come to this party or what

Alois: I'm just saying, calyset came in last and I'M here

[charlie-freakin-essex]

IN ANOTHER CASTLE || charlie & cambie [ dmc event ]

@cambieandrews​

[[ Felix and Cambie’s dance number had been… holy shit. It’d certainly been something. A very good something, and judging by the general whoops and yells of encouragement from the rest of the crowd, most had been in agreement with Charlie on that point.

Between the mission to find the NWRF leak Charlie had been so stuck on lately and the awkward conversation he’d had with Ricky about Andee, he hasn’t exactly had a lot of time -- or attention span -- to spare in seeking Cambie out. That’d meant, apparently, that in the meantime any chances he had with the gorgeous head of Delma had apparently passed him by: she’d shown up and spent much of the evening thus far on the arm of one Mitch ‘Dougie’ Douglas.

A lot of the other colonists didn’t seem at all surprised about this, and Charlie realized maybe he shouldn’t be, either. He hadn’t much interacted with Douglas, simply thinking to keep an eye on him from afar as one of the more prominent Infected Elite most likely to have a chip on his shoulder with his demotion from Calyset head of house. Charlie had at least gathered that he and Cambie were close, likely since they’d both been heads of house together for so long, but he hadn’t necessarily expected they’d end up an item. He rather figured Cambie was far out of the mousy teacher’s league, but to be fair, there aren’t many at the colony he wouldn’t consider out of Cambie’s league.

In any event it was a disappointment, certainly, but maybe some relief also came creeping in. If Ricky had thought Andee couldn’t be trusted as being openly anti-NWRF, Charlie couldn’t imagine he would’ve had a great reaction to finding out Charlie’d had his eye on Cambie, either. Still, Charlie can be a good sport about it. Waiting in line at the bar for his next round of drink -- big as he is, Charlie’s had to start dipping into his credits to really get the buzz going -- he manages to catch her reappearing at the edge of the crowd, rather disappointingly back to the more modest costume she’d been sporting at the beginning of the evening. ]]

Hey! Nicely done, [[ Charlie offers with a charming smile, catching Cambie’s attention even as the general noise level of the Catch is starting to climb with the music again. ]] Buy you a drink, Ms. victorious head-of-Delma? [[ He inclines his head for her to join him in line. ]]

I’d ask if you’d like a dance, too, but… I’m kind of getting the impression you’ve already got a partner. [[ He’s fishing, certainly, even if there was little ambiguity in the way he’d seen Cambie and Douglas together earlier. Still, it’s not as if there’s any obvious disappointment in his tone; Charlie’s happy for her, legitimately. ]]

[the-original-charley]

When in Rome | Charlotte & ? {DMC}

Jesus fuck.. [The expletive was only a muttering. A sort of verbal reflex in response to the lights flickering on and off again as she exited the stall. At least, that’s what she’s going to blame it on if there was anyone else in the bathroom to hear it. In reality, what’s actually causing the probably not great (fairly dangerous, actually) sudden palpitations is her own dress and current intoxication. Every time the lights flickers, or she moved her arm in a certain way, a few sequins caught and reflected the light- which, without fail, would only be seen in the corner of her eye and triggered the ‘It’s a bug!’ instinct. 

Charlotte doesn’t normally wear sequins, mostly for this reason, so she’s really not sure why she brought the dress with her during the move to colony 22. She doesn’t even remember buying the dress to begin with. But, the color and shine reminded her of the cursed Aztec gold from some old pirate movie that Harper- the youngest Williams sibling- had been obsessed with as a kid, and that meant it fit the theme of the party. The party she hadn’t been sure she wanted to attend in the first place, but alcohol and noise are her typical go-to when she’s in a funk so.. Here she is. Attempting to soak in the happy, carefree atmosphere of her new community. And drinking all their alcohol.

Sighing, she finishes drying off her hands and goes to open the door. Only to step right into it when it doesn’t budge.]

Conasse! [she yells it at the door, rubbing her forehead] You open up right now! The rum might not be gone yet, I need to go. [she tries the door again, sighing angrily when it still refuses to open] Come on, door. You know have I have no one to message for help. So why are you doing this? [sighing again, she bangs on the door hoping there’s someone on the other side that can hear her] Hello!! Can someone help me get this open?! [she knocks on the door again]

[bear-little-loss]

buzz | orson + ? { dmc }

[He’s pretty sure the last time he’d been to the Catch had been the night of the Awards ceremony.... which, he’d rather not remember right now, because it’d been... a rollercoaster, to put it lightly. While some of his memories of that night were fulfilling and warm, others still, heart-hammering and exciting, there had also been those that’d been... weepy and emotionally taxing. Between everything that had happened with Roy and then everything that had almost happened with Kip... it’d been a lot. Almost too much to compartmentalize with any grace, so in lieu of that he’d just... stopped thinking about that night altogether. As much as possible, anyway. And to do that, he’d stopped coming here. Not that he came to the Catch very often at all, anyway. 

Thankfully, everything about the party tonight is distracting: quite conducive to Orson’s current needs. And even though parties are extremely low on the list of things he will go out of his way to partake in, or even especially enjoys—tonight, he’s actually having a good time. The room is just so full of... energy and enthusiasm, and Orson is sort of idly wondering where it all came from. Maybe people have just been so morose in their post-parasite, winter lock-up-blues that this is their chance to let off steam—let go in a way that it seems no one really even knew they needed before now. 

So he’s sort of caught up in the buzz of it all, and he surprises himself even further when he cheers as Angel introduces his last song. He’s never so much as exchanged hellos, with Angel, and he wouldn’t’ve really considered himself a fan of Wing’ed Things, before D-Day, but he’s familiar with them, and their music reminds him a little of high school, and of Joel. And he's actually pleased when he recognizes the first few notes immediately.] 

[Taking a sip of his (second) ‘Delma Daiquiri’, Orson glances down at the set list on the table in front of him. It looks like the dance performances are next. Which should be... interesting. Half-humming a couple of the lyrics he’s surprised to find he remembers, he leans a little closer to the person to his left—not too close, obviously: he’s well covered tonight, but he can’t be too careful, especially these days—but he wants to be heard over the loud track of guitar and drums, without having to yell.] 

So does... ‘exotic dance’ mean what I think it means? [he asks, re-reading the little hand-written note for the third time. Not that he should need to; the writing is extremely tidy, and he has to assume it’s Felix’s.] 

[lake-valentine]

glowy-rainbows  ||  l.v. + ?  {dmc}

[He’s literally never seen Catch 22 this busy. Not ever. Not even, like... after the awards ceremony thing. And either that’s because... less people actually went to that, or it’s because, like, this just FEELS a lot busier because it’s so much more high energy because of all the flashy lights and the colourful dance floor and the glow sticks... 

It’s still nothing like a REAL club—well, actually, he doesn’t know because he’d never BEEN to one before D-Day, but this is nothing like the clubs he’d seen on TV or whatever. But it DOES feel a whole lot closer to one than it ever has before. The dance floor and black lights definitely help. 

Another glow stick drops by his feet (people keep throwing them in the air and stuff and he just keeps... picking them up), so he picks this one up too.] Suh-WEET, pink one! [He adds it to the growing collection around his neck: one blue, one green, one purple, and now one pink. Get him a yellow and he’s got all the colours! Hell-yeah, glowy-rainbows!

“Uh, hello?? Dude, what do you want?” 

Lake spins around back to the bar. It’s finally his turn, and Crane is looking at him expectantly, (and kinda annoyed, it seems like: he must not be used to actually having lines).] Oh, sorry sorry! I’ll have...  [he glances at the sign with the special drinks on it. He squints at the weird names, then spots a girl walking away from the bar with one.]  Uh, whatever that colourful one is with the little candy on it. [He winces a little, hoping Crane gets it, but he must, because he just nods and turns away.] 

Thanks, man, [Lake calls after him. He looks around, head nodding to the bassy-beat, and then starts fishing in his pocket for the gold coins they’d handed out at the door.] 

[mitch--douglas]

IN THE OPEN || mitch & alex [ dmc event ]

@alexander-donovan​

[[ Mitch never really knows what to expect of parties held around the colony, in all honesty. Over the years they’ve oscillated wildly between bleak, weirdly solemn affairs that seem to leave spirits lower than before, and much lighter, wilder parties that do an excellent job of distracting everyone from the end of the world. Thankfully, campy thought it may be, this Delma engagement is proving to be much more solidly in the latter category.

It probably doesn’t hurt that Mitch’s mood is the highest it’s been in recent memory, maybe even since D-Day -- maybe even since months before. There’s been nothing but pleased and downright enthusiastic reactions (and a fair amount of near-exasperated ‘finally’s, the likes of which make Cambie and Mitch laugh with a measure of embarrassment) to the obvious and apparently natural evolution of his relationship with Cambie.

For the first time in the evening they’ve separated, though -- Cambie to ‘get ready,’ whatever that might entail; and Mitch to see himself to the bar to have a seat, a ‘mocktail,’ and an idle chat with Crane. When asked if he’d care to help out again, Mitch simply chuckles and shakes his head, claiming he’s off-duty. Good thing, too, because as he swivels on the stool to lean his elbows back on the bar and survey the center of the room, he catches sight of Alex approaching and can’t hold back a broad grin. ]]

Well, Donovan. Forget your parrot at home? [[ As if Mitch is one to talk; he’s dressed neatly but simply as he ever is, preferring to donate his credits at the door than to have made any last-minute costume piece purchases at the Hub. ]]

[therealmaisiepace]

Maisie Juliet Pace ⚔️ Drunk Man’s Chest: A Delma Victory Party

This outfit had to be so many things. Knock-out gorgeous, which Maisie never really felt like she was? Spending her working life around actresses had given her a healthy dose of humility when it came to her looks, but for tonight, she wanted to look perfect. It also had to tell the world she was over Kip, but not so over him that she wasn’t still beyond mortified about what happened. It had to be confident. Sexy yet not too revealing. Oh, and it had to be pirate-y. Which is, admittedly, a lot to ask of an outfit.

After hours of agonizing over her closet---“I don’t have anything to weeeear!!” “Annie, help meeee!!1” “No thank you, Mira, you just keep doing your thing, gorgeous.”---she finally decides on her ensemble. Her favorite part is the slash of red lipstick, which she bought at the Hub for a fortune. She refuses to ruin it with Annie’s sieve, although she admits it’s a great look for her friend. Just not for Maisie. Not tonight.

To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love, and she was going to get someone to dance with her or die trying, goddamnit.

[alexander-donovan]

make scarce || dante + alex  {dmc}

[He’d tried to leave after the vocal showcase. Really, he’d only shown up to mitigate the likelihood of people harassing him Monday for not having been there. And he liked to show his support of the citizens of the Colony, to remind them that though he wasn’t the easiest person to approach, he was more than just a shadowy figure among the Elites. These days, citizens needed the reassurance that they had people in their court. People in positions of ‘rank’ (such as it is or isn’t) that are looking out for them in whatever way they can, despite all this New Wave business. 

So he’d not really been planning on staying long. It would surprise no one that ‘dance parties’—as improvised as this one might be—are not his scene. But as he’d been putting his coat back on, Petra had appeared as if out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist. ‘Wait—you’re not leaving are you? I’m on next! I slaved over the shirt on your back—for like, half an hour, but still—you owe me.’ He smiles subtly at her, shakes his head, and sits back down.

Inevitably, he’d caught Cambie’s, too—which was... something. Enough to make him a little uncomfortable, if only because he wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing Cambie this way, when he’d spent so long determined not to see her this way. Which had evidently been justified—because it’d taken him no time to notice how cozy she was with Mitch tonight—good. Finally. He was happy for Mitch. For both of them, really. And he could easily blame his minor discomfort at the performance on having to watch Felix do it in something just as revealing—if not more. 

Truthfully though, when his gaze wasn’t diverted to the table or elsewhere, it was on Cambie, and her alone. He’d caught her gaze once and smiled subtly. To her credit, it had been extremely impressive. Among other things. 

But when Felix announces the next performance, with a warning reminder about it not being for ‘all audiences’, Alex takes that as his cue to make himself scarce for the next five minutes, and offers to grab Mitch a refill on his water. He could not be less interested in watching one of his more obnoxious trainees writhe around on a pole. Or floor. Or whatever he’d be doing. 

As he gets to the bar, however, he spots Carrington also making a smooth but hasty exit, and Alex makes the quick decision to follow him. He’d told Mitch he’d have a conversation with him about what they’d discussed... and now seemed as good a time as any—in other words, it seemed like a perfectly good excuse to avoid Ealy’s... provocative display.

He steps out into the cool, evening air, and finds Dante on the porch.] Evening, [he greets calmly.] I’d say I’m surprised to see you here, but I know exactly how hypocritical that would sound.