b u o n e ~ f e s t e

[sharktrash]

Who: Priders! (Basically if you (or your friend, or your dog) has had a positive interaction with anyone from MANTICORE, consider yourself invited, dragged along or sent in someone else's place. And even if you haven't been invited it's totally fine to notice something's going on and show up or  randomly come across this and stay!)
What: Genos and Squalo throw a Solstice dinner party. Italian food for everyone!
When: December 21?ish (forward-dated a bit so it doesn't fall right before irl holidays)
Where: MANTICORE penthouse
Warnings: MANTICORE Squalo, Carnies, language, minors getting drunk, substance abuse, someone might decide to bone, idk.


[ Fuck the creepy shit, MANTICORE are aggressively throwing a Solstice party! Because why not, and who has the patience to wait until New Years? ]

[ There are locations/prompts in toplevels, but feel free to start your own as well. Generic timeline of the night would be: cooking, dinner, socializing with games and booze and possibly other things, and  a movie marathon into the wee hours of the morning for the ones interested.  ]

Comments

[sharktrash]

Fucker's not keeping up his end of the bargain. You should remind him.

[ Forcing Xanxus into a pair of plumber overalls sound like a pretty good end to his evening, actually. If Koumei wants help with that... ]

[ But anyway. Untangling the princess regalia. ]

Just -- hey, you can't see up there. Let me.

[ HE GOT DIS BAE ]

[ and then he blinks. ]

Seriously? Not even a trim?

[dishevelment]

I'll remind him when we're both awake...

[Because it was no secret that both Xan and Mei liked their naps a little too much. No wonder they both had odd reputations.

Koumei shifted, all but burying his face in Squalo's chest so that he could properly work on the detangling job.]

The color's natural, and mom was always telling me how special it was when I was a kid. My family's got Chinese ancestry, and red is really rare in that population.

[sharktrash]

[ He makes a vague sound of 'i doubt that's a good idea' but leaves it be. But, oh, that's almost like cuddling. Wow. He's not sure why but it feels weird. ]

[ Whatever. He busies himself with the tiara, freeing strand after strand of hair from it. ]

Huh, that's pretty cool. All the more reason to take good care of it, don't you think?

[dishevelment]

Probably, [he grumbled, his voice muffled against the fabric of Squalo's shirt.] It's just a pain to brush it all the time. Your hair's not as thick as mine!

[sharktrash]

That's a shitty excuse. It'll just take some more effort.

[ And it's free! ]

[dishevelment]

[Freedom is good! But it doesn't stop the whining.]

But my arms get so tired that they'll fall off, and then I'll be useless as a pianist....

...and then I'll die, because Page will kill me.

[sharktrash]

[ Oh ffs. He'll put the tiara behind the backrest of the sofa... and if there's no convenient table or couch structure it just might drop on the floor. Doesn't matter. He's got to procure a brush from somewhere. His jacket? His ass? Behind the cushions? The world will keep wondering. ]

Heeey now. What's a little bit of dying? Mom's gone through all that effort to squeeze you outta her cooch, the least you can do to show your gratitude is give your natural gifts proper maintenance.

[ HE'S GOT A BRUSH. And his other hand is looking for the end of Mei's ponytail. ]

[dishevelment]

...I think I might be dead, [he mumbled, distracted by that one word and the mention of his mother. The tiara and that brush didn't much matter-- this close to dreamland, he felt oddly connected to that strange tactician he kept dreaming about.]

Having a hard time recalling Mom too-- it's weird. Life was always a day by day thing as a kid, too. Guess everything just got stuck in the blur.

[sharktrash]

Shh, shh, I know. Me too, yeah? Still gotta look gorgeous in that casket.

[ He's starting to brush that long hair from the tips. It's pretty gentle for now. ]

[dishevelment]

[Gentle is good; Mei's not even thinking about that now.]

...Do they even give funerals for an enemy general?

[sharktrash]

[ He considers it, and keeps brushing. ]

Don't think so. Probably something more like tying his corpse to a horse and dragging it on the ground around the city while everyone cheers and spits on it.

[dishevelment]

Hm....

That doesn't sound good-- and I hope that isn't what happens to that guy. I don't understand it all yet, but he leads an interesting life.

[sharktrash]

[ blink. blink blink. ]

What guy is that guy again?

[dishevelment]

That general who might be me-- who might be dead. [He shifted a little, letting Squalo have a better angle to brush.] It's hard, but I'm trying to look at things rationally.

[sharktrash]

It's... really fucking weird when you say it might be you and then talk about him in third person. [ Hopefully the brushing is soothing. Actually, if he doesn't resist it, he might start feeling more relaxed the longer he's in close contact to Squalo. Those Rain Flames have been back for a while now. ] Well, the good news is that it doesn't make the difference to the dead one either way.

[ a pause. most people get upset about desecrating the dead for some reason, but really... ]

That's also a rational thought.

[dishevelment]

[He doesn't fight it-- doesn't even realize that there's anything to fight in Squalo's presence. Just being around the wild cellist was oddly calming, in a way that no one could have anticipated.]

...I know, [he replied quietly, the comment intended to address all of the problems before them.] It's just hard to stay rational when so many of my impressions are....are feelings more than anything else.

[A young man whose demand had felt like a stab to his very core; a young woman whom he desperately wanted to protect; a regal and dignified man whom he had wanted nothing more than to follow...

It was strange, and becoming exceedingly difficult not to sympathize with that General.]

[sharktrash]

[ All the better, then. Do try not to fall asleep in the middle of a sentence, though. ]

Mm. That's fine, don't you think? Maybe it's trying to tell you something.

[ There was no reason to invalidate those feelings even if it seemed to be coming from someone... different. When you dream of being of superhero, you still refer to them as "me", no? Why would this be different? ]

[dishevelment]

[He wasn't falling asleep yet-- he had too many other details on his mind.

Like thoughts of how to resolve this puzzle before them.]

Yeah, I thought of that too. It's just all....much closer than anything I expected.

[sharktrash]

[ Pretty impressive he could already visualize it as a puzzle, really. The best way was to start filling in the pieces, of course. Start at the edges with no rush, slow and certain, and the center will reveal itself eventually. ]

What did it feel like?

[ It may or may not be more than simple curiosity. ]

[dishevelment]

About the dying thing?

[He shifted around to carefully make eye contact with Squalo.]

It felt like I was being impaled-- but there wasn't any surprise or anger with it. Just clarity, and worry over a some people I've been dreaming about lately.

[A young woman who should never have been sent off to battle, and a young man with a cold fire in his eyes that had ignighted from the very depths of his soul. He reached out a hand to gently press against Squalo's torso, in a spot that was just below his rib cage.]

---Right there. Close to where that kid attacked me at the party.

[sharktrash]

Well, that and... everything.

[ He looks back at him, listening, expression unreadable, but his eyes narrow just a little bit when he shows where he was attacked. That's... interesting. And that makes two of them. Then he frowns. ]

I was also stabbed in the same place that killed me in the... vision. Do you think it's significant?

[dishevelment]

That depends, [Koumei said quiet, in a tone that was so neutral that he could have been discussing the weather.] Is your....other ego a military general in Ancient China?

[sharktrash]

[ mei pls. ]

No, I don't think so. It wasn't detailed so far. Some kind of fighter, though. A bodyguard, perhaps?..

[ He did remember that immense sensation of protecting, of throwing himself in the way to take a hit meant for someone else. Also not unlike the murderparty, actually. ]

I meant, what happens to us and what we remember seems... similar. Between the instances, not the both of us. It could be connected. Or one's a really elaborate hallucination inspired by the other.

[ He pointedly doesn't imply which is which, though. ]

[dishevelment]

[Brows furrowing in concern, Koumei gently brushed the hand that was on Squalo's body up his chest and pressed a finger against the Cellist's lips.]

--Please be careful with words like that, Squalo, [He intoned, no longer nonchalant. There was a gleam of something sharp lingering underneath his eyes-- like a blade, or the keen intellect of a chessmaster.] Someone else who's been seeing things and making noise was already brought in for brain surgery, likely without their full consent. We don't know what Xanxus did to get so badly hurt, either. I don't want to see you ending up like either of them.

[sharktrash]

[ He blinks at him in surprise, then licks that finger and grins. There's something of almost matching sharpness behind it. ]

I'm not making noise. I'm not gonna preach this shit off the rooftops, either. You told me, so I'm telling you. In confidence, if you will.