Johann had arrived without fanfare—no entourage, no glamor. He was dressed in a simple, but fitted black suit, its color a peerless sort of ebony, and an uninspired, but complimentary mask. It was as if he had walked into the closest art store and picked up their plainest masquerade accessory. It didn't even have a single jewel, real or otherwise, glued on. But if Johann was bothered by his state of "undress," it didn't show.

Instead, the young man, with an air of certain confidence, walked past the entrance and into the thick of the party.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" He smiled at the other party, his eyes twinkling beneath his mask.

"Ah ha ha ha HA! Ha HA! So yeah, that's how that's coming along."

"Very good sir."

"I'm glad. I've been working on it for this very special event," Thea said beneath her goggles, "how else will I show up to the Devil, much less show him up?"

"Of course sir."

Of the few things that she allowed herself, the Lich King watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog with her close circle of undead companions (thirty of which she was taking to the party). Truthfully, all of them came to life through her magic so it was less like having a mass of unique, special souls but thirty versions of herself with slight differences. Yes, one had blue hair, another white hair. It was all in all, relaxing.

The Lich King put the finishing touches on her costume before stepping on the transport circle and arriving at the Devil's doorstep. The inside was already packed with different sorts of people both human and supernatural (well, natural by her definition), allowing her to glide in unnoticed by the general populace as she tried looking for the man of the hour. The goggles, though aesthetically pleasing, made it a bit hard to distinguish different colors since everything now had a green sheen to it. It almost made her wish she'd dressed up as Felicia Day.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

"It's certainly not the worst Halloween that the Devil has wrought upon us," she answered.

It was finally time to make everyone who was an anyone know his name. Émile approached the castle door. I'm sure they're all in there talking about me right now, asking when will I arrive. letting out a snicker, the smug faced man was now standing in front of the door, he had to make an entrance, he couldn't just walk in and close the door behind him.

Gripping his hand on the door, Émile prepared to shock and wow the crowd inside, as he flung the door open and lept inside, quickly bringing both of his hands into the air, he grabbed his cloak to give off a classic vampire look. Nothing wrong with the classic stuff he thought as he stood there for a few seconds, but nobody had rushed over to him, nobody and called out his name, gauging the room, Émile could see that nobody even noticed him, either everyone was in mid conversation or totally ignoring his presence.

This is unacceptable! Unforgivable! the vampire thought, as he slowly brought his arms down and let the cloak cover his body. The man slowly walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, cloak still covering him. Émile was pouting almost.

Beautiful evening, isn't it? one of the guests said out out, Émile rolled his eyes. Beautiful evening my ass he thought once again.

Ari shoved his invite letter down his infinitum pocket, he walked over a few steps and snapped his fingers. Suddenly he was transported from his house in Denver, where he took a residence with humans, and into the grounds that was shadowed by a magnificent towering castle. There before him stood the beautiful door waited to be opened.

Walking slowly as he shifted his image to one that went well with the Masquerade, black suit, dark shoes and white collars and neck wrappings. As the dark gust blinded him for a moment as he shape shifted, another guest appeared by the door. He seemed a bit confident. This one had impressive attire, Ari liked it. The guest flung the door open and leapt inside, Ari thought it was odd.

As the door was about to close, Ari grabbed the handle and to a much milder manner, he slowly got into the Devil's Mansion. It was an impressive scene. Humans and not-so-humans populated the night. Ari liked it.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" One of the guests said.
"It's certainly not the worst Halloween that the Devil has wrought upon us," Another one in an even more impressive attire answered.

Ari approached the guest he saw earlier, he sat on a chair. Ari let out a little cough and dared to ask him,
"I'm Ari, say, I saw you moments ago. I can't help but worry myself, are we late? "

After slipping quietly, if not entirely unnoticed through the front door, a tall, slender young woman stepped down the stairs unknowingly entering a world very different from her own... to mingle with types unimaginable.

Making her way through the main floor, this creepily masked human girl looked through circle plates of glass at those she passed. 'Man, some of these costumes are seriously amazing!' It was awe inspiring, and to be honest a little embarrassing in comparison to her own rather crude costume. All Schiz had to do was pull together some old cosplay and throw a gas mask on, bam, instant creepy. She also couldn't help but notice how good a lot of the other women looked in their scantily clad costumes, and it only further cemented the reason why she wore a mask.

Ya see, parties really aren't her thing - especially one's of this grand scale. But the invitation was so... mysterious. She had to check it out. And for some reason, throwing on a mask instantly made her more comfortable in the social situation, like a protective shield that made her feel like a different person. Like she could get into a new character. (Oddly enough, one of her favorite hobbies.)

Slipping out of the crowd, finally, she had made it to the table filled with an array of punches and bottles - a nearly emotionless server working behind it. "A drink, miss?" His monotone voice asked across the table. "Oh.. I'll take uhh.." She paused, realizing the one fatal flaw of the mask. Her voice was severely muffled, especially among this loud party. After realizing this, she pulled up her mask just above her mouth and called out, "Can I get an amaretto sour?" A request she made often - if not regularly, when ordering out.

Her bare blue eyes glanced around as she waited at the party before slipping the mask back on, shuffling around in her bra for the money for a tip.

"Alright girls. Keep what I said in mind. You're free to wander." Lorraine finished by making a light shooing motion with her fingers. The small entourage around her dispersed, all except for one. Remaining at her side was Natasha, who had, for some reason, chosen to wear a humanoid Peppermint Butler costume. Theme wise, it went perfectly with Lorraine's Princess Bubblegum costume. Both had been modified to include a masquerade mask that matched their respective costumes.

Gazing into the crowd, Lorraine wore a pleasant, if not enigmatic smile, which contrasted her butler's disdainful grimace. The pink clad Lorraine noted Natasha's displeasure but didn't comment upon it. Rather, her pale yellow gaze continued assessing the crowd. Ah, what variety of costumes. A classic vampire, a generic masquerader, a... airborne pathogen transverser, and so many others. Oh, look there, a... well, Lorraine couldn't recognize it, but surely the goggles begged it be of the "steampunk" genre-

"Dr. Horrible..." Natasha uttered excitedly beside her, a sparkle in her just earlier disapproving ember eyes.

"Sorry...?" Lorraine questioned curiosity, clearly missing the reference.

"It's... Ah, nothing. So where's the Devil anyway?" Natasha inquired, looking from face to face to see if she could find the answer to her own question. "Or is he like Gatsby?"

Lorraine laughed her throaty laugh, bemused. "I'm afraid you've quite lost me, dear."

"And is it really my fault? I get a shiver when I see you with those other guys, wearing the jacket I bought. I can't help but lose my temper and I don't know why," he sang to himself. The bright lime-green Bose ear buds in his ears a dead giveaway that he was listening to music, interrupted his singing by pulling forth another open app. The second that horrid robotic voice spoke, he cringed.

"Turn right in 100 yards. Arriving at destination on the left."

He blinked and pulled his eyes from his smartphone's map. Looking about, he cocked a brow at the overly festive mansion. It was massive, much like he expected. Eyes falling down on the invite between his hands, he blinked again. In doing so, the contact in his eye shifted and caused his vision to blur. Something about the invite looked rather ominous. Was it just a trick? Was it on purpose? No, it was probably just his writer's imagination running rampant. After all, it's not like he would be trapped in Japan escaping hordes of zombies anytime soon, right?

Standing upright, he adjusted his outfit before kicking the hat a bit forward on his head. Running a hand over his black and white mask, the man stepped toward the gate. He was just about to walk through it when he saw a few younger girls arrive. Stepping back, as if a gentleman, he waved them through before following after them. The usual "thank yous" and "you're welcome" were exchanged by the time they reached the top of the stairs.

A warm, glowing light found his pale features and brushed a cheesy grin on his face. Yes, this could be fun. It would be a nice break from the usual, professional face he wore. With his mask on, with his persona in tow, and his hand-made costume looking sharp as ever, Bryan Harvey Wesson stepped into the scene of the party. Like the host, he was filthy rich and could afford to take his private jet out to this party. He could also afford to provide the finest of wines, Bourbons, and hors d'oeuvres. Frilly desserts of ghostly proportions lined one table while drinks and bartenders line another. More tables with food littered the main wing, which made those invited feel all the more welcome.

With so much to take in and see, Bryan didn't know where to start. Opting for scoping out the food (his stomach growled in agreement), he obtained a small plate and placed a few crackers and cheese on it. For now, he would munch and mingle. The dancing could happen later, if he could secure a date of sorts. But why wouldn't he? Surely he wasn't the only one dressed in cosplay here. And he certainly hoped there would be some pretty-faced closet otaku that would recognize his getup and beg him to dance. Why yes, who could resist the charm of Kotetsu Kaburagi, or Wild Tiger from the anime Tiger and Bunny?

Johann laughed at the reply, his head nodding in subtle agreement. "No, it's certainly not the worst," he mused, a smile toying with the curves of his lips as he surveyed the partiers. Most, like the man who had answered him, were in costume, dressed to the nine in creativity.

For a moment, the marquis felt a pang of regret. 'Maybe I should have gotten the steward to put something together.' But as quickly as the thought had formed, it was gone even faster.

Turning to man at his side, Johann gestured towards the refreshment stand. "May I get you a glass of"—he squinted at the table, brows furrowing in slight concentration—"something drinkable?"

"Always, always a pleasure doing business with you, Sir!" He called out, walking away from his library and the guests inside with a wide grin. 'Oh, what a workaholic I am... just look at me, making deals during my own festivities..' Clicking his tongue against his teeth and adjusting the tie, he playfully chastised himself before making his way down the back stairs to the party floor.

Behind the blood red devils mask, his eyes twinkled in delight at what a spectacle he was, and how those he passed cooed for his attention. It was custom for him to try and thank all of those who came, kissing and shaking the hands of those who greeted him. "Oh, Darling - you're lucky you are already spoken for." He spoke with a wicked tongue, knowing full well the married woman he was speaking to was less than faithful. "Please, let me get someone to refill your glass..." He snapped his fingers and one of his nameless severs came and attended to the woman's refreshment.

Another set of guests caught his eye from across the room, and in almost a near instant, as if to appear in a puff a smoke he was leaning on the chair Emile found himself in. "Late? Oh, no, no. Perhaps not early, but certainly not late..." He chuckled, patting Ari on the shoulder. "Welcome, welcome. What can I get for you boys? A drink, a cigar perhaps? Or maybe a lively little kitten from the litter across the ways?" His hand waved across the floor at a trio of young, giggly girls with matching cat costume's in different colors.

'What a weirdo...' She thought to herself, perched up on the railing and eyeballing guests as they walked in. This one in particular seemed pretty full of himself - well, a lot of them did. But this one threw his arms up into the air like he was expecting the entire party to stop what they were doing and watch him. And when the crowd did exactly what she thought they would do - not even notice him in the slightest, she snickered. It was even more amusing the way he stormed down the stairs in a defeated huff. Who'd this guy think he was?

Hopping down from the railing she made her way in his direction, taking a seat not too far away from him so she could watch without really looking like she was watching. But much to her shock, he was addressed - probably out of pity, she quickly added on to thought.

But in a blink of an eye, the host, "the devil" himself was asking how he could make him more comfortable along with the other suited gentleman. Nina tried her best to not gawk at his sudden appearance, instead she kept her eyes pointed away from the conversation, but one ear was locked on to their conversation.

It wasn't long before people started making their way over to Émile who was still in the chair. The first man was dark and tall, skin color matched the color of his suit. Everything about him was the color black. Here's an odd one... wasn't expecting to see a walking shadow here... Émile thought. Regardless there was something about Émile that triggered this man to start a conversation. A fan perhaps? That didn't matter, Émile rose from his seat and interacted with the shadow looking figure. "Late? No no no no no... A vampire lord is never late. Nor is he on time." letting out a little chuckle, Émile began to somewhat circle this man getting a full view of what he was dealing with. "I assume you know who I am?" Émile said with a small grin on his face.

Before Émile could continue, the man of the hour emerged and made his way over to the vampire and the stranger.No surprise there, the devil himself would pass by everyone else first to greet yours truly. Émile was starting to get more and more cocky, to him, he thought even the devil would worship the ground he walked on. "Ahh yes, the truth spoken from the devil himself." Émile looked back towards the man who was labled as Ari, then back at the devil"It is good to see you are doing well, friend, lovely place you have here. Ahh, no no no, I will pass on the smoking, I can simply not have anything messing with that masterpiece." Émile said while gesturing towards his face, the fact that Émile thought of the devil as a friend was odd because this was the first time ever meeting the man, Émile just wanted to sound more impressive to Ari and if anyone nearby was listening in, surely quite a few people wanted to hear what the man was saying. "A drink, will do just fine. Tell me, Devil, what do we have here tonight for wine?" Émile licked his lips a little as he waited for the response. He was very interested in what types of wine the devil himself carried.

"A Vampire Lord? My my, So my senses didn't lie. This is most interesting."
Ari was impressed, not only with the odd Vampire Lord's quite impressive costume which now has an explanation for such authenticity-- he was an actual Vampire Lord. Ari was impressed his first use of his paranormal aura sensors in months detected a class 3 being. Should this character die tonight, his soul would make for quite a delicious harvest.

"I don't, I'm sorry if I bothered you, it is a merry mad night--" the Vampire Lord didn't hear Ari's response as his attention was suddenly directed to the more sudden appearance of the night's host. The Devil himself. At least his appearance suggested a demonic being, Ari wasn't sure of this until the Devil patted his back. The touch burned Ari's paranormal sensors. He looked around and he was no longer able to make a difference between those that wore costumes, and those that were actual monsters. Did the Devil do this on purpose? take away my sensory powers? Ari thought.

The Vampire Lord was talking a lot of words, at quite a pace that Ari wasn't used to using. Ari kept his visage cold, didn't react. "I shouldn't have asked" he murmured in a subtle voice. The well-costumed being asked about wine, finally something nice came outta his mouth.

"I second his question, I would settle for tonight's special sort of wine"

More guests entered the party wearing a range of costumes from Halloween archetypes to pop culture references to...the vampire lord. The man wanted to be revered as the new ruler of the vampires and he wasn't subtle about it. Yes he was so great that he didn't even need a costume or so the Lich King would have thought if Émile were more arrogant than stupid. It wasn't to say that she looked down on the young ruler (young meaning immature) but that there were better allies to have. Hah, she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't bother to read the invite and just arrived unannounced.

Thea turned back to the simply dressed man, allowing herself to admire his eyes for a few moments before nodding.

"Glass of Merlot if you'd be so kind."

Asking what exactly he was would be taboo as it was a masked party, but the Devil on the other hand... She turned toward the tall, blonde-haired man

"Or perhaps we should ask the Devil for a recommendation.

'A vampire lord?' Johann, curious, looked over. He had expected an intimidating figure, someone who towered over the other guests, bearing a presence that, in its very existence, demanded submission. Instead, what he found was nothing of the sort—not even in the slightest. Disappointed, the marquis allowed his attention to return to his companion, whose name he still hadn't learned yet.

"A glass of merlot? Well, that should be easy enough." He stopped a passing waiter. "Pardon me, I'll be taking two of these." He reached for a pair of champagne flutes or what he estimated to be champagne flutes: it had bubbles and that ever-familiar golden sheen. Of course, this being a party hosted by the Devil, Johann wouldn't be too surprised if the drinks turned out to be unicorn piss or similar.

Smiling at the other man, Johann handed one over. "Oh, almost forgot." He raised his glass towards the other's, tilting his so that the rims of the two drinks touched. Suddenly, the color changed: the shimmering gold turned a vinous red. The bubbles vanished and, in the glass, sat a dark, aromatic drink that invited a taste. "I hope this is okay. Couldn't chance it with the spread here. You never know what the Devil's offering"—he glanced sheepishly over to the blond—"No offense meant, of course. It's just been some time since I've attended one of your soirees and I haven't forgotten my last mistake."

He took a sip of his own—Domaine de la Romanee Conti. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he savored the richness of the wine, the darkness of the flavors. "Ah, it's safe to drink." While he would have never admitted to it, Johann was relieved that the spell hadn't misfired. It had been some time since he had last practiced any sort of magic, but, evidently, his skills hadn't dulled. Although, there was a slightly roasted aftertaste to his drink, but details. "Oh, excuse me, I should have started with this. I am the Marquis de la Marche"—he bowed, but it was more of a nod—"but that's a mouthful. You may call me 'Johann.'"

"Just so you know, I'm not part of this." Raphael scowled as Michael fussed with his cape. "I tried to stop you, but did you listen? Of course not!" And while Raphael continued to grumble and complain, Michael took the time to examine his outfit.

He had spent all week deciding what to wear, but, in the end, he settled for the handsome grey-green captain's coat. It was heavier than he would have liked, but he had fallen in love with the gold trimming and curious golden buttons. Not to mention the fact that, with his particular costume, he finally had a reason to wear an eyepatch. He loved the eyepatch.

Grinning at his reflection, the blond put on his hat, which came complete with a fantastical, overly-dramatic plume. "I look fabulous, right?"

"You look insane," the redhead snapped. The other man had his arms crossed in disapproval, but if Michael noticed, he didn't comment. Although, truthfully, the blond most likely didn't notice and, even if he did, wouldn't care.

Raphael was a complainer; he nagged about everything and anything this side of existence and, after several millennia of listening to the redhead, Michael had developed an expertise at tuning out the young man's words. He was rather proud of this particular skill. "It's too bad, Azrael didn't want to go. He would have been perfect. In any case, hold down the fort while I'm gone! I won't be too late, promise."

"Wait!" But that was about all Raphael could say before Michael vanished in a ball of light.

---

The air was cool—crisp—against his skin and he shivered involuntarily. "Hm, sensitive," Michael whispered as he picked up the pace. It had been a while since he last took a human form and, every time, the sensations were overwhelming. If it wasn't too cold, it was too hot. If it wasn't freezing, it was boiling. "Better get inside. Don't want to freeze to death outside."

He half-jogged, half-walked up the few steps before disappearing behind the heavy oak doors.

Inside, the room was perfect—not too cold, not too hot. It was, however, a little dark, but Michael preferred it that way. It gave the whole event a mysterious feeling, an allure of excitement. Grinning from ear to ear, the blond decided to mingle with the crowd.

He could see demons dressed up as demons, humans dressed up as something, and—pink! It was too late by the time he realized someone was in front of him. Running into the other partygoers, Michael quickly apologized. "Excuse me, excuse me! I'm terribly sorry!" He held onto her arm, his grip firm, but gentle, as he tried to steady himself. Normally, he would have used his wings, but, tonight, he was human and humans, unfortunately, did not come with wings of any kind. "Are you okay?"

"The Devil is hardly one to take offense," Thea answered, grabbing the flute and turning over to the blonde, "you've always been one to care more about entertainment than safety no?"

With a smirk, she clinked glasses, nearly getting lost in the taste before she remembered the reason that she came to the party. Yes, she wanted to talk him down, make a deal if one would, minus the subtraction of her soul or something equally important. Unmasking him wouldn't bring her any closer to retaining her throne, but perhaps he could exchange his identity for an heir, one in her image without any knowledge of her past. The prospect of all this made her almost giddy enough to let out the laugh she'd been working so hard on, but she stifled it with a cough and turned her attention back to the Johann.

Yes, he'd revealed himself at the party both via magic, but also by his name, one that Thea vaguely recognized. He wasn't royalty, but she was sure that he was revered somewhere in the world. All of the nonhumans were even Emile.

"Is that your real name or merely your costume," she asked, holding out her free hand to shake.

She gestured for one of her undead servants to bring over two other glasses, giving one to Johann.

"Most call me the Lich King, but my real name is Theodore. I admit though, I didn't expect the Marquis to be so reserved in his dress."

The Lich King.

Johann blinked back his surprise, masking his shock behind a polite smile. He knew that the crowd wasn't one picked up off the streets, but he would have never expected to meet the ruler of the undead. 'How interesting,' he thought as Theodore spoke.

"I had considered coming in costume, but laziness was quite the mountain to climb. And, as you can see, I started"—he pointed to the mask—"but then I decided I'd rather sleep in," he laughed as he took the proffered hand. When the man brought refills on the drinks, Johann was more than happy to accept. It wasn't because Johann was an alcoholic, but as a Frenchman, he knew how to enjoy his wine. "So, what brings the ruler of the undead here tonight? Other than the lure of free food and excellent company?"

"Haaaa."

"Foooo."

Exhaling, Natasha would have grimaced if that wasn't already that state of her face. The most prominent smell around her was rich. It left a distasteful aftereffect up in her nostrils. She wanted to complain, in all honesty, to Ray. But anything that could be said had already been said... speaking of Ray, where had she gone? An increase in murmurs and buzzing alerted Natasha that the host, this elusive 'Devil' was out.

If she knew Ray, then she knew the woman had gone to greet the host. Natasha was fine with her roadside view, getting a glimpse of a blood-red mask. I was expecting real horns... the redhead sniffed, then adjusted her red-striped white wig. There was no theme going on here, was there? Oh, that costume looked familiar...

She stared at it, ignoring the scent of rich and smug coming off its wearer. I've seen that before somewhere, I swear... Natasha snapped her fingers together, "That's it," she said smugly to herself. It was that one weird character from that one anime Corvy watched. Tiger... something? Well, whatever, mystery solved.

--- --- ---

Lorraine had indeed been making her way to the Devil. A guest was to greet their host, after all, that was only proper. Her eyes were on the path ahead, picking out gaps in which she'd float past the other guests. All a'sudden, something was in her path, and it came crashing into her. It happened in a blur, the costumed woman just managing to keep her footing. The other, though, seemed less stable, and the pink-wigged woman instinctively raised her hand to the guest's shoulder to keep any toppling from occurring.

"Excuse me, excuse me! I'm terribly sorry!" an apology quickly aired. Lorraine felt a warm grip upon her arm. Pale yellow eyes fluttered to the source, ah, the hand of the guest who'd run into her. A quick blink and her eyes flowed to the guest's face.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course, dear," this scent was clearly human, but... why did he smell so... fresh? This thought graced the back of her mind as she offered the steadying guest a soft, sphinxesque smile, "Bound to happen in a crowd like this. You're okay, I may presume?"

--- --- ---

Meanwhile, at the 'bar', a girl in a poofed out green dress skittishly made her way over. She was short, had a on short green wig that ended like the curves of clouds, and a simple crown in the shape of a band with a single shaft sticking up, a green gem atop. It was Corvia's humanoid version of Slime Princess, a costume following the theme that Lorraine had started.

Sniff. Sniff.

"H-human... I think..." she whispered nervously to herself. Corvia closed her eyes, that always helped her nose. She inhaled and walked towards where the scent was strongest- "Eep!" Her trailfinder, along with the rest of her, bumped into the origin of the scent.

Corvia looked up to apologize, and found herself face to face with a terrifying visage. The color drained from her face, all the while her brain processed: it was a mask, a gas mask, nothing to fear! Only a human underneath... maybe. "P-pardon me, miss! Just getting a drink, aha..." she finished with what was supposed to be a casual laugh, and turned to the server like he was exactly whom she came to see.

"A-a drink please..."

Michael nodded as he steadied himself, still swaying a bit too much. Everything was so much more difficult without his wings. 'I should have come as an angel. I could just pretend that it was a costume. Stupid.' Of course, coming as an angel was such a boring idea; it was probably something that Raphael would do.

Remembering that he was still holding onto the other guest, Michael quickly let go. "I'm so embarrassed! It's just that I..." He trailed off, catching himself in mid-sentence. He almost told her that he hadn't gotten used to walking yet. "Uh, I'm just... clumsy," he finished awkwardly, one hand scratching the back of his head like some cheesy cartoon. He may not have mastered the art of walking, but he had certainly picked up human gestures more rapidly.

"Uh, well, um, you're okay, right? You look okay." He paused again, grimaced, and resisted the urge to slam his face against the nearest pillar. "I mean, you don't look hurt?" Internally, Michael was screaming in frustration. If only the floor would open up and take him into the underworld. He had never been, but he imagined that it couldn't possibly be worse than his current situation. At least he'd have his wings again.

The brief pause told Thea all she needed to know about Johann's reaction to the entire event. True, she wasn't the most ordinary of guests but was it so surprising that a (wo)man such as herself could enter? She enjoyed her share of parties too after all, even if they were of the undead variety.

"Oh? I expected more from the Marquis de la Marche" she said, a smile barely showing "surely you could have had one of your hands prep something."

She swirled her flute of wine before sipping, letting herself think about her answer. Should she lie? Should she tell a half-truth? At the end of the night it wouldn't matter, but there was so much fun in making people wonder about her in situations like these.

"It isn't often I can be in the company of others rather than stuffy meetings," she chuckled, "especially not of such mysterious origin as yourself. I'm sure tonight's colorful cast was what attracted you no?"

Lorraine brought her own hand away from the pirate-costumed guest's shoulder and to her gowned side, but was tempted to bring it up again as he swayed once more. The poor man seemed extremely flustered, and despite his best efforts, couldn't seem to get a proper footing on the solid ground.

Some sort of curse at work? she wondered bemusedly, her smile never leaving her tinted lips."Your sight fails you not, I am indeed unhurt." she assured the frowning guest. He had his hands full attempting to stand straight. "Too much champagne?" she jested, an impish twinkle in her pale-yellow eyes. Lorraine knew better, her sense of smell reported no scent of alcohol coming from this guest. Truly a perplexing mystery, this swaying stranger.

Once more her slender-fingered hand left her side and rose to chest level, palm upturned. "Shall we perhaps find you a seat?" she offered. The evening was young, the Devil could be greeted in due time.

So maybe coming to this party wasn't the best idea. Honestly, it was boring. Sure, it was full of colorful people and pretty objects, but that was it. On the scale of boring to HOLY-MOUNTAIN-OF-COOKIES-AWESOME, this party was growing duller by the moment. Maybe he should have dressed in something Halloween-ish? Nah, there didn't need to be another vampire in the room. Wait, where those guy's teeth real?! Reeling away, Bryan found himself standing alone at one of the tall tables.

Munching on the cheese he procured, he merely people-watched. It was a hobby (er, habit) of his that he quite enjoyed. What were the masked attendees thinking? What drew them here? How did they feel about the party?

With a dry scoff, he muttered to himself, "Honestly, getting trapped in Tokyo with zombies might be more entertaining than this." He was really just being rude at this point and decided that maybe he ought to force himself into having fun.

Stepping from his table, he couldn't help but catch the motion going on between a woman and a all-too-drunk man. Was rescuing her really wise? Nonsense! It was hardly a rescue, she seemed to be fairing just fine all on her own. Scanning past her, he spied a little miss nearly jumping out of her seat when she came all too close with a gas mask. Now this looked promising.

Picking up his -- wait, he didn't bring anything -- setting down the briefcase he never brought with him -- wait, why did he have a briefcase and how did it get in his hands? Stopping, he paused to look at the foreign object. "Okay, usually in movies this is the part where the CIA and FBI come bursting in and telling me I'm under arrest." He listened for the sound of breaking glass and shouting. None came, or at least not the calls he was expected. "All righty then, just back away slowly and everything will be okay. Right?"

With a panicked look on face, he turned and retreated to the bar. "Uh, I'll have what she's having," Bryan said while gesturing at Corvia. With a shudder, he turned to look back over his shoulders at the briefcase while taking a sip of his drink. Only....

It was gone.

The liquor shot from his mouth when his eyes found the damned thing literally at his hip. Was this bag haunted?! WHY WAS THERE A BRIEFCASE FOLLOWING HIM!?

Play it cool, Bryan. Play it cool, he told himself. Seriously though, what lame-ass comeback could he rattle off the tip of his tongue that explained why he just wasted perfect liquor?

"Yeah, I got nothing to explain that," he admitted remorsefully. "Or at least I have nothing logical to explain as, last I checked, briefcases can't stalk people."

Oh yes, this would make for a fantastic story later. Not.

Ari took the night's special wine from the butler that had approached after the Devil snapped his fingers. He examined the exotic glass, it contained a glowing blue liquid, with octopus tentacle decorating the tip. Ari bowed to the devil, and walked to the center of the dancing chamber. It was gloomy, dark, but colorful. He took a sip of the blue wine, his eyes diluted and flowed yellow. "Exquisite."

Among the crowd of humans and otherworldy beings he noticed a woman that was surrounded by undead minions. Ari entertained the thought of harvesting her soul, such soul would deem satisfying. Yet the Devil took away his powers when he touched him, Ari took another sip from the sour wine. Walking around, humming to the music and smiling at humans.

"Fancy costume. Looks a bit real doesn't?" One of the human ladies remarked, dressed in audacious pumpkin costume. Ari smiled, his black skin animated by hints of mist. "Pumpkin? You look nice." Ari responded and walked to the bar. He sat close to a gentleman in quite a fancy attire. He looked at him then shifted his attention to the awkwardly shaped bartender. "Could you take this away please?" putting away the blue wine, "give me a regular lemon shot will you?"

When the shot was served he grasped the small glass with both his hands, shaking it slowly as the ice played against the liquid's surface. Ari looked at the gentleman again, there was a suitcase on him. Ari took a sip of the shot, then asked the man ", You look rather haunted."

Suddenly, the mansion goes black and the previously noisy ballroom is now stricken with an eerie silence only broken by a few sudden shatters of broken glass - perhaps a tray slipped from a blinded server's hands? And a few female shrieks.

Really, were people still afraid of the dark these days?

A midst the darkness, The Devil called out among the party goes. "Now, now, this should only last for a few minutes... no need to worry. I do not believe I invited the boogey man to this party!"

Time passed, and Nina still watched with an air of resentment as Emile went on with his business. Damn, he annoyed her so much! It was getting too much to handle, she was going to have to ditch the party or face him at this rate.

That's when the lights went out with a sudden crash. After a moment of adjustment, it was pretty easy for her eyes to cut through the darkness - and from the aura he was giving off, it wouldn't be hard for him either. So she was going to have to act quick, or he'd be able to defend himself.

So in that moment she leapt from the couch and clasped her jaws on his arm, ripping the limb off in one sudden crack. Maybe then he'd learn his lesson that he wasn't all that, vampire scum.

"Perhaps," Johann mused, a smile playing with the curl of his lips. He had considered magicking an outfit, but he also didn't want to turn into a Halloween-Cinderella. Magic was a rather finicky art, rather temperamental and rarely trustworthy in large quantities. "But I was going for a more subtle, classic look. I'm not really caught up on what's hip these days."

And that was the truth. Few people knew it, but for the past hundred years, Johann had spent it sleeping. It wasn't that he had wanted to sleep for a century—he may have been occasionally tired, but not that tired—rather it was the result of a curse gone wrong. Jealousy, after all, was the maker of fools.

"Even the Lich King has to attend meetings? How terribly mundane and bureaucratic," the brunette laughed. He set his empty glasses onto a passing tray. "As for me, I'm here on a treasure hunt." He smiled at Theo, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "There's a rumor that there's something worthwhile in this mansion."

But, just then, the light went dark and the Devil, quick as always, spoke to reassure the crowd. There were some laughter, a lot of muttering, and, of course, the natural shuffling of people bumping into each other in the dark. "So, I'd say now is the perfect moment to getaway. Care to go on an adventure?"

"Oh, I haven't had a glass yet. But I'd love to try," Michael beamed, still a bit unsteady on his feet. He should have practiced walking before coming to the party. "And a seat, ah, no, no, let's not do that." The blond was not keen on sitting down because once he sat down he was sure he wouldn't have the courage to get back up. Plus, this was a party—there wasn't time to be sitting!

"You know, I have an idea, how about a dance? I'm probably better there than here," he gestured towards the dance floor. There were a good number of couples dancing: some more experienced than others and a few more absurd than others. He had never gone dancing before, but dancing, from what he had seen, was a lot like swaying and falling, but only deliberate. He was already halfway there by his estimation. "So, how about a dance, Miss?"

But just as he had asked, the lights went out. There were a few loud gasps, a shout from somewhere, and then the Devil started to speak. He seemed unconcerned, but amused by everyone's reaction. Michael felt the same way: it was just a bit of darkness, there wasn't anything to be afraid of.

Before the Devil could respond to Émile, all the lights in the manor had turned off. Well well, things were getting a little interesting. had the Devil planned for something like this all along? No matter, being a vampire lord made seeing in the dark not a problem at all, Émile spent most of his time actually in the dark so it was quite comforting.

That was until the vampire spotted a quick flash of fur dart towards him and go right by him. With the sight quickly followed up very sharp pain in Émile's left arm. Eyes widening, Émile quickly turned around to where the fur ball went. What did it do to him? Looking down he saw a small little girl with ears chewing on a familiar looking arm. Wait that was Émile's arm! Looking down to where his left arm used to be there was now nothing. This little fuzzball ripped it right off!
UNACCEPTABLE, UNACCEPTABLE, UNACCEPTABLE!!! Émile said in his head as he stomped on over to the young little arm thief. "Mademoiselle I demand you return my arm at once! It is very rude to steal something that does not belong to you, you didn't even ask to borrow that arm!" Émile held his remaining hand out to her in hopes that she would return what was his, but instead she got up, turned around, sat back down and continued to use him arm as a chew toy.

The pain was still there, it hurt like nothing he ever felt before, well other then the time he lost both of his legs when he was a kid this was the second most painful thing. It was clear this little fuzzball was not going to give up his arm with the way he spoke to her, being what looked to be a dog he figured he'd try another method. "Bad dog! Bad! No! We do not steal arms! Drop it.... drop it! Bad dog! No treats for you! Émile wasn't getting anywhere, if anything he was making a massive fool of himself in front of the other guests. It was then that he felt a familiar feeling, as the pain started to vanish and his missing arm started to regrow back, even the clothing part. Feeling much better, Émile knew the little dog girl had to have a mouth full of ashes now. That made him feel ten times better! Letting out a confident chuckle, Émile stepped back around to the front of the little fluff ball and knelt down in front of her. "Well well... look what I have back. he said while wiggling his fingers around in front of her face, she tried to pull another fast one on him and chomped at his fingers but he was prepared this time, Émile could not help but chuckle once again. "Tell me, little pup. Why did you use my arm as a chew toy. What's your name?" Émile smiled and ran his tongue across his fangs, making sure the arm thief got a clear view of them.

When the lights went out one would have thought that the Lich King would have screamed. No, no. She had her undead do that for her.

"Unnnggghhh!"

"Devil, devil," she announced, "how many times have I told you not to spook the liches. They are rather sensitive you know."

Like that the party went from a bland masquerade to...something of interest. First there was the shattered glass and now the classic werewolf-vampire face off. She didn't know who the brave dog was, but no one else could have been a better target than Emile. It wouldn't have been Halloween without some part of him getting injured after all. The sound of his posh, uppity accent chastising the pup rather than ripping his head off made her rather glad that he was the king now rather than that other man. She downed the rest of her wine, nearly forgetting that her attention was supposed to be on Johann...on the Devil. Right, she was supposed to be looking for the Devil. Not that it will be easy in the dark.

"There's a rumor that there's something worthwhile in this mansion."

Perhaps it would be something even greater than the Devil himself?

"I'd be honored Johann."

She snapped her fingers, allowing herself vision in the darkness and made her way through the crowd. "Shall we start in the attic or do you believe our king of the underworld would be cliche enough to hide something in the basement?"