2019-11-05 - Masquerade: Platinum Grounds

Dylan makes his apperance already in costume, the man having dressed ahead of time in preparation to be here to help with a few last minute costuming things for others. This leaves him in a three quartesr, phantom of the opera style white mask that has a rather monsterous - goblin, perhaps - cast to it's subtle details. A black shirt serves as the base, followed by a red brocade vest and black slacks, but it's the long, flowing cloak that truly makes the piece.

It truthfully doesn't take much to get the man out. It's a combination of a need to feel the cool air, a break from the sheer amount of people, coupled with that fog that has created a touch of inspiration for the artist, even if his sketch pencils and paper aren't yet pulled out.

Madison is late, because she never seems to be on time for anything, ever. Her costume might have something to do with it, and if you ask her, Sexy Leatherface is the perfect Halloween and she wouldn't have changed a thing, even after a friend of hers in the police force stopped her, and confiscated her very real chainsaw, while leaving her to run around in her bloody costume and horrific human mask.

The costumary apron of the slasher legend is short, as is her frilly dark skirt behind it. Madison's legs are exposed until heavy, impractical boots give her a few inches of height. There is (hopefully) fake blood everywhere, and her mask is just like Leatherface's, but it has lipstick on it.

She stomps said heavy boots right besides, Dylan, whom she doesn't know, and readily puts her hands upon her knees, breathing heavily and panting, showing a disgraceful physical shape. She raises her hand in a hello, even if her leatherbound face is lowered as she regains some of her stamina.

"H-Hello... oh gods... Jesus too... I need to hit a gym... C-Cameron didn't tell me the... the strip club was so far away!" She did, but Madison is reality-impaired. Standing up, the horrific genderbent Leatherface offers her hand to be shaken.

"Sup, I'm Madison. You work here, or visiting your boo?"

Blake wears a silvery crown and who knows where he got it or if it is real. He wears a featureless mask, white, and opposite of that, on the back of his head, a twin mask, only black. A two-faced king or prince. Aside from the headgear, about /no/ effort what so ever has been placed in his costume. In fact, he's simply wearing what he always wears, a black leather jacket over a zipup hoodie. Charcoal jeans, some understated kicks, and a band tshirt top it off. He also seems called to the night air from the back of the club. Perhaps. He follows after Dylan, drink in hand and keeping a close eye on the other man. All that can be seen are his hypnotic blue eyes behind the mask. He just happens to be holding a very fruity drink.

A small wobble of his body comes as Dylan turns once he hears those boots stomping right up next to him, and for a long moment? He just stares at Madison. And then towards Blake, and that look speaks volumes, even if most of his face is hidden. 'Oh God Can Someone Talk?' "Seeing dancer." Well, duh, who doesn't at a stripclub, right? His own hand lifts to take that offered one from Madison, as he explains. "Dylan. Rink." A beat of a pause is between each of those, making it clear he will answer to either, rather than it being his full name.

"Cameron?" Up his brows arch with interest, that name recognized as his head bobs up and down, and this time when he speaks? His focus takes in both of the others present. "Nice costumes." complete with a big, lopsided, beaming smile.

Madison shakes Dylan's hand with a wide, pearly smile behind the horrendous mask, her bright eyes focused on him as she nods vehemently. "Hey! You know Cam? Awesome! I've been meaning to know her coworkers in foreeeever but she is like 'No! You will scare them!' and I'm like 'No way, I have a -great- personality!'" A pause. "But seriously, if you could tell her I was great and normal, I would really appreciate it. I'll pay you!"

She eyes Blake, then, and keeps smiling, "Hey! Is this for me?" She reaches for the drink and stops midway, "KIIIIDING! Hi! Wow, your eyes are very pretty!"

Madison would keep talking, but that little bit of awkwardness is interrupted by what seems to be something she wants no part of. The Sexy Leatherface scoots behind Dylan and Blake, trying to hide nervousness with a teasing "This town, huh?"

"I SEE YOU, YOU WEIRDO!"

The woman crouches, picks a beer can, and she hurls the thing into the mist, without much hesitation. It is only when a meaty thump is heard that Madison covers her mouth, whispering, "OHMIFUCKINGGODS. I hit it. Oh no! OH NO! OH please, please don't let it be an animal. Pleasepleaseplease. Oh fuck. I hit it. I am so sorry. I am so sorry!"

She looks like she might faint, and is warring with herself whether she should go there and check or not. She can't deal with Me, Myself and Irene cow situations! "D-Dylan, you guys should go check! We might have hit that one pretty bad!"

We.

Blake doesn't answer to Madison. He half steps backwards when she reaches toward him. Then he nods in acknowledgement of her compliment. Before he can react anymore, Madison assaults something in the mist with improvisation. The two-faced prince squints in the direction of the pegged thing, but he doesn't look like he's budging. Nope. Dylan can get this one right? He just looks up to the other much taller man. Not a word.

"Madison. Amulet," Two and two are put together, and that lopsided smile turns even more brilliant. When she mentions Cameron again? He has a response all at the ready, even if it is a bit well into left field. "Drew cover!" He offers up, as if this might trigger something for the leather faced beauty. He too is peering around into the fog, but he looks back towards the club, and then off another way, giving a small, 'Huh.'

It's probably a good thing that his mask hides most of his face, because he is downright horrified when the woman scoots back and chucks that beercan. "Uuuhmmmm..." It's a dire situation when the artist is left as the main source of warding off... whatever is out there. He reaches into his vest, pulling out his trusty 3H pencil and wielding it like the tiniest sword in the world.

Madison would be ALL over Dylan for the awesome cover, she really would, talking about the exposure he will get if he slaves away for her, and generally gushing over his work, and how Cameron won't shut up about Mr. Artist. He even knows her band name! She -is- famous after all!

However, now she is faced with some pretty dreadful scenario where she is pretty sure they are about to get The Mist'd. Madison stays behind Dylan, until the man pulls out a pencil.

"W-Wait! WHAT?! No, no. Dude! Stop being cute right now. You don't own a gun? Do you have money? Maybe they want money? I mean, I would want money. I'm so broke! Shit. Okay. Look, maybe we can talk! Yeah yeah! People just need a break! The Lion and the Mouse, remember?!"

The babbling goth eyes the ground around her for very light debris as she approaches the dazed hobo, "Mister, I am sorry I hurled beer at you! I thought you were some evil hobo!" She winces. "I mean, an up-to-no-goder! We all know how things go in this town, right? A girl can never be too cautious! So lets talk? My friend there is a big time artist! He will make a funny cartoon out of this!"

She will approach her hobo unless stopped, to (poorly) extend an olive branch at the man.

Blake steps back toward the back door when Dylan steps forward, wielding his pencil. But it's too late. The locking sound clicks in his ear, reverberated lightly in the the cavern of masks. Then Madison seems to not be able to stop talking. The two-faced prince mutters low, "Jesus fucking Christ." He turns toward the door. "Hey, we don't want any trouble man," he offers to the figure he's sure is a douchebag. Blake's met plenty of them. "Can I go? I'm broke. I don't even pay my own rent." He lifts his drink to take a nice long sip at that.

Dylan must clearly be stuptified by what he sees, for he just stands there with his pencil out, making him look more likely to just start drawing their imminent death than actually defend himself with it. It's an ever so light plink that has him tuck down and look to his left arm, his features scrunching up to look at the smirky-goblin... and even through those eye holes of the mask, one can see the big, puppy dog eyes. "Why?" Even his lower lip pouts outwards with his sadness.

Not that he plans to let the poor goblin off that easily to try again. "Friends?" He asks, even as he gathers his strength to... just stand there? Well, that's what it looks like, but out he reaches with his mind, seeking to take down the aggression and anger level of that smirky little bastard a notch or three if he can.

Blake looks in profile down toward the scarred one. Among these creatures, he is tall. Dylan's just some dumb hulking giant to them right? Good. Blake quiets, not immediately answering the annoyed damned thing. Then he tilts his head at the scarred one and begins to crow with laughter. "Of course. I am what you think I am. These are my revelers." His voice reaches new tonal ranges not expressed just moments ago. He straightens up, gesturing with his peach bellini to Madison and Dylan somewhere or other behind him. They're behind him right? That hardly matters.

Madison eyes the lil' fellow and she is absolutely stunned, her bright eyes wide in shock as she takes in the sight before her. Continuing her series of poor choices that somehow work, Madison then kneels, and behind her Leatherface mask, she whispers, "I am so unsure if I should fainting or hugging you."

The goth with a death wish lets a smile crack as searches her purse for something, "Well, it isn't midnight yet... so I suppose you should earn a treat, for not tricking me! And... I happen to have the best thing!"

Madison learned long ago that she should always have chocolate on her. For when she is feeling down and low on energy. And that is what she does, breaking a half-eaten Kit Kat bar, and trying to hand it over to the creature, her face all too close to it, her dazzling smile hidden behind the leathery lipstick snarl of her mask.

This will work out great, for sure. "You'll look so good on stage with me. You'll have your own miniguitar... it will be -great-! That bitch Jennifer and her Youtube money can suck it now!"

Thankfully it is that time of year, and Madison? She isn't the only one with chocolate treats. Dylan pulls out a roll of rolo's that he got from gods only knows where, handing the package over. "See," He begins to explain, even as he subsequently pulls out a piece of paper, quickly drawing out a light weight sketch that speaks volumes.

The artist shows smirky-goblin as a stand up comic holding a microphone, but is he smirky-goblin anymore? No, he's suave-sophisticated-sassy goblin, full of humor. A handful of other goblins are rolling around on the floor howling in laughter. "With Laughter,"

That's how Dylan explains in, two words at a time, beaming a brilliant, broad smile towards his new found friend. "Not pain." Out that rough sketch is handed to his buddy. Cue up the reading rainbow symbol. Is he paying attention to his surroundings? Not as quickly as the others, but his head suddenly jerks up, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. "Uuuhhhmmm..." He says, even as he starts to creep back towards the building.

There is so much going on. Madison isn't entirely sure this little creature isn't associating Kit Kats with actual cats, and that she is teaching it to hunt and kill felines for chocolate that will never come. She isn't even sure it wouldn't eat her if face if she wasn't looking so dope in her great costume!

But what she does know is that Cancatcher hates Jennifer, and you kow what? Fuck yeah. That makes him an A-Lister in Madison's book. Fuck. Her night was going down the drain when her chainsaw was confiscated but now? Now this is basically the best thing ever!

"Bitch Jennifer! Mah man, Cancatcher, you are a mean dude! I love it! Hit it!" She offers her closed fist for a fistbump, which might have to wait for another day, because there is something coming this way, and Madison has made enough friends for one day. Standing up slowly, she offers her hand to the lil guy, "Come on, time to go, C-Dog. My Dead Madison Sense is tingling!"

She urges the little creature to come, and even try to catch its hand, but in stupid high platform shoes and kind of scared, she might not be able to get to Cancatcher in time.

What she does, regarless, is run (more like short-step as fast as she can on those boots) and pass by Dylan while warning, "We should gooOoOoOo~!"

"Delicious curses. Don't mind if I do." Blake chugs the rest of his drink because he's surely lost his mothereffing mind. He's talking to...to...something that calls him King. This costume went too far. "What are we up to tonight my subject-" Those deep set eyes twitch toward the wood. "Inside. Now," he growls out to those present. Then he tacks on, as if this is proper motivation, "More sparkly curses there." Those are good right? Woo hoo! Curse-drinking tonight! He glances around the back for the garbage dump or anything that might serve as a hiding place, suddenly feeling like there's just not enough time to even /get/ inside. He hucks his glass with the dregs of his drink in the direction of the perceived threat and then dives into the dumpster. No sense in taking off the masks. They might protect him from all sorts of unsavory contents, like used condoms.

Well, Dylan can't leave his new buddy behind. He just reaches out, trying to pluck up his budding comedian, and off they run towards the door, which seems to be the best option right? Wrong. Not when he can see Madison screaming against it and the thing not budging.

So what does the artist do? He makes like a mime. He plasters himself - and Smirky Smurf - up against the wall, and then he repeats his mantra. "I'm Mr. Cellophane, I'm Mr. Cellophane," Focusing on just blending into those surroundings. And if worse comes to worse? Well, he is fully prepared to scream and hope he can distract whatever the hell that thing is out there.

"CAMERON! CAMERON! I AM NOT JOKING! I AM SORRY FOR HOGGING ALL THE HOT WATER! CAMERON! CAMERON! OPEN THE DOOR! I AM NOT KIDDING THIS TIME! I SWEAR! OH FUCK! I HAVE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE!"

Madison puts all her pathetic strenght into slamming her fist against the door, and then kicking it, "OW! MY FOOT! FUCK! IS CHIVALRY DEAD?!" And when she looks around to not find Dylan or Blake, the goth frowns. "Well, fuck me, I suppose. Don't worry, Cancatcher," and she screams, "I DON'T ABANDON MY FRIENDS! DYLAN!"

Good thing she can't see Dylan either, or she would totally snitch on him. As is, Madison tries to hurry Cancatcher out of sight, or find a place to hide. The issue with her is that someone cannot shut her fucking mouth, rendering hiding impossible, even if she does go for cover behind a car.

"Oh fuck, okay, Madison. You need to start to believe. Fuck. Okay, you can do this. Shit, shit, shit. Cancatcher, if I don't make it, you find Cameron, and tell her she can't find someone else. Ever. That is how love works among us, humans. She'll have crunchy Kats."

Blake hides deep in the dumpster as the minions start taking hits for people. He's unmoved by the screaming woman, simply staying quiet as he concentrates on his own energy, charging up in a way, letting it build and build, that feeling inside as he hears the incoming creature. He briefly laments on how he should have dragged one of those abominations of the mind up into this hell hole with him. Would have been a decent shield.

Dylan really had tried to encourage Madison to be quiet and blend in. But over all that screaming, she probably missed his ultra silent 'shhhh'. And then all hell breaks loose. Dylan barely has time to blink before the gobbos are all over it, and who knew that the meanest things lurking in the back lot tonight were the little guys, rather than the big bad wolf. "Well. Fuck."

Smirky? He gets a big old hug from Dylan before he takes off to go join with his friends in the all you can eat wolfman buffet, and out the artist calls, "Practice! Funny!" All to encourage him on. Some poor stripper is going to be the first one into work one day to find a stylish goblin practicing his stand up routine while hanging off the stripper pole, whoops. "Shoouuullld go," He says to the others, casting a glance towards Madison, and then Blake. He? He doesn't want to be out here. "Whata treat." He concludes, offering a beaming smile to both, waiting to see just how they plan to get back in.

Madison is more horrified when Cancatcher gets wounded than about some shadow werewolf monster who would probably feast in half a second. She shrieks, but seemingly, the goblin is all right enough to join his brothers in a ferocious battle against something that looks way larger than they.

When the silence ends, and the goblins laugh, Madison looks into the dark with all the pride of a soccer mom, to the point she eyebrow waggles at Dylan, and thumbpoints at the blackness. "My boy. Kind of a badass."

Cruch Crunch Canibalism noises

"... Yeah, we should go inside." Horrified, but not less proud, Madison shouts, "Don't forget me, Cancatcher!" She shouts her address for all to hear, so the goblin will visit her, and backs away towards the door with Dylan.

"Where were -you-?! I was all alone there! Like, you owe me art for that! You know that right? I was afraid and crying, helpless! Totally helpless!" The husslin' never ends.

Blake waits till he hears the smacking sounds. The sound of bones crunching, the sound of marrow slurping. Good time to get out right? He scrambles out of the dumpster and straightens his faces. His crown remains unknowingly off kilter. He heard the door lock earlier, so he reaches down to hike his jean leg up, revealing a wrap tied around his leg and tucked into his shoe. He takes it out, glances to the lock, and pulls out a tension bar and a rake like pick humming a Led Zeppelin riff softly as he works. One tumbler...two...Blake makes quick work of the rest. Click. Blake slowly opens the door. "Your duty will not go unrewarded." Blake will leave them a six pack or buy them each a cocktail to leave out as if leaving milk out for a cat. Then he disappears inside, holding the door open just enough for the next person to grab it as if opening the door more would somehow infect the safety within.