citynet | video; @The Seventh Crown of the Seventh Demon King;

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video; @The Seventh Crown of the Seventh Demon King;

[ In media res: there's a video feed sharpening into focus, blobs of silver and pink and purple neon resolving into a staircase leading down to a metal door gleaming clean under the artificial lighting around it. Midnight's standing at the door, looking up at the camera and the person filming with his phone, grinning one of his worryingly unhinged grins. ]

How is it, Kaveh? I'd ask you for my best angle, if I had any bad angles.

[ This conversation does... persist... but as the video continues, it becomes perfectly clear that this terribly disorganized promotion is for a bar of some sort. Midnight makes it clear later when he reclaims the camera, hops onto the bar, and aligns himself in the frame in a way that lights both his face and the sign behind him, a rose-lit confection announcing the name of the bar: Seventh Hell Host Club. ]

That's where we are. Do you see that? My name is Midnight, and this is my host club, Seventh Hell. We're near the southernmost station on Line 1. Kaveh and I have been working terribly hard on this establishment, and all of you have his genius and design sense to thank for this momentous occasion. Please do thank him personally. Make a great fuss about it. Remind him that sleep is a temporary state that he should indulge in more often, preferably with me. Thank you.

[ Kaveh is definitely taking the phone at this point, but later on, Midnight will retrieve it and add a postscript. He is sitting in some sort of underground greenhouse this time, surrounded by mist, glass, flowers, and the glow of sun-tinted halogen lights. Regardless of the promo quality, the greenhouse itself is certainly an impressive feat of engineering. ]

Yes, this is one of several themed rooms here at Seventh Hell. You — yes, you — are personally invited to see it. When? Well, whenever you like, so long as the doors are open, but on the 31st of this month... Ahem.

[ He clears his throat, grins. ]

For the turn of the year, you are cordially invited to Seventh Hell's Grand Opening and New Year's Eve joint celebration. Or something like that, I'll come up with a grander name if necessary. There will be drinks, music, a tour of the premises, games, untold bliss, fantasies, beautiful women, beautiful men, myself among them, possibly fireworks if Kaveh can be convinced that I won't set the place ablaze... You won't want to miss out, I promise.

The doors will open at 6 pm, but come by anytime before then, from now until the New Year, if you'd like to enjoy the premises in relative solitude. Send a message to this account if you'd like to be assured of a bartender, or a friendly face to speak to. If I can't come personally, a host or hostess will be there, ready to welcome you to a night of merriment and pleasant conversation.

So, until then... Seventh Hell awaits you.

[ A wink, and the feed shuts off. ]

[ ooc: Along with normal network replies, current host club employees and staff are welcome and encouraged to reply to this post as though Midnight's included them in an impromptu promotion for the club! You can also use this post for post-promo, off camera conversations with him or anyone else in the host club. Go stupid, go wild, go crazy, threadjack, steal his phone and flush it down a toilet. Honestly, the sky is the limit. ]

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[he's not expecting it to be warm, but he kind of likes that it is. something just feels nice about it; for a few moments, he's just holding that key in his palm, looking down at it with a quietly fond expression, before he tucks it into his own pocket. his now.]

I don't think Yesod or Chesed will mind, but... I'll ask first.

[and not, you know, surprise them with midnight letting himself in.]

Haven't eaten yet, either. Not since, uh... probably this morning?

Please do. Ah, I've yet to engage Chesed in a proper conversation. I'm looking forward to it.

[ Now that Netzach's made himself more of a fixture here, Midnight's been stocking ingredients for simple meals; crackers, bread, cheese, deli meats, and fresh fruit are usually what's available, and he's stored whatever sorts of canned soups and snacks Netzach likes in the pantry. It's feeling like sort of a more celebratory, lazier day, so he just grabs whatever's available, snags a jar of strawberry jam from the fridge, and sets it up on a tray. The least professional charcuterie board imaginable. ]

Get a drink and go to the couch. I'll meet you there. You know, I found a few movies from my Terra at the media store... Cheap Wrankwood films, but it's something. If I find something decent, we should watch it together.

You'll like him.

[he's confident in this, knowing both of them... chesed is easy to get along with, after all.

netzach snags a drink and heads over to settle in on the couch, calling back-]

Are we actually gonna watch it? [just lightly teasing, popping the tab on the can.] I don't mind either way, but if it's from home for you, I kind of do want to pay attention.

Oh, I do hope so. I'll do my best to charm him.

[ Arranging deli meats, fruit, cheese... He adds the bread and a cracker sleeve, collects some forks and knives, and arrives next to Netzach, setting the whole thing down on the coffee table. He sets to opening the strawberry jam, humming happily to himself. It's nice to finish a project... ]

Should we watch it? I was pretty sure I saw The Living Dead on the Frontier, and that's the epitome of entertainment without the fine art. The sort of film that's more fun when one pays attention to one's company, if you understand me.

[oh, the jam... his smile broadens a little seeing it, knowing midnight remembered he likes it, and he passes him a slice of bread. jam him up, thanks.]

I get you. If it's a movie like that...

[he's settling in right next to midnight so he can prop himself against him, as he usually tends to.]

Then I don't mind if it's not fine art. Not everything has to be.

[ Oh, that smile. Midnight accepts the bread slice and begins spreading the jam over it. He hands it back over when he's done, arm going around Netzach to tuck him into his side. He eyes some of the meat selections himself... He might try picking at it. He's getting better about eating on his own. ]

Ooh, artist opinions. I like that. I'll see if I can dig up any more of Mr. Mario's work, then. Father of the slasher film, they call him... Although, for culture's sake, perhaps we can work our way to a more artistic work of cinema.

[ Midnight aims a look at Netzach. ]

Unless, of course, you were quite intent on getting distracted.

I wouldn't say intent... depends on how much more interesting you are than the movie.

[netzach takes a bite of that slice of bread with a satisfied little sound, then holds it up to him in a silent offer for a bite of his own.

it's a tendency he's started developing over time: eat a little of something, quietly offer it to midnight to let him have a nibble if he's interested, then carry on eating afterward regardless of what the answer is. he doesn't ever push or cajole him to have any, usually doesn't say anything at all, leaving it all in casual gestures-- if midnight does take a bite, he'll keep offering them to him. if he doesn't, then netzach waits for him to reach for something first before repeating it.]

Well, were I some piece of fine media...

[ Midnight looks at the bread, looks at Netzach, remembers the pattern... and accepts the bread in his mouth. Just a bit, a corner of it, and he leans back a little, pushing the morsel between his lips with a finger. His smile is very small, but his eyecontact is steady. ]

... I would be beautiful, elegant, well-spoken, intelligent. Not bad. Romances don't often win awards, but I don't mind being a critic's darling, so long as the critic is you.

[that little gesture, he thinks, is unfair. he rests against midnight's shoulder, looking up at him, keeping that eye contact as midnight holds his gaze.]

... good thing I don't really care about awards, then. I'd take the romance that's you over whatever's winning any time.

[ A kiss, then. Sweet, sticky with strawberry. What else is there to do when Netzach holds his gaze so unfairly? ]

I'm always a strong bet, love. The sort that beats the odds.

[ Magical storybook apocalypses notwithstanding. Back to Netzach's hair, though. He breathes him in, warm and sweet and intoxicating. ]

Keep your eyes on me...

I will. I already do.

[he's gotten used to midnight breathing him in-- it's gotten him to start taking better care of his hair, honestly, picking nicer scents for shampoo instead of whatever he happened to see first. maybe he should get kaveh to make him some like he mentioned he could...]

[ Midnight shifts Netzach partway onto his thigh, tugging the tie out of Netzach's hair and placing it next to the tray; he strokes through the loosened strands, combing it over and behind his shoulder, kissing gently at the side of Netzach's head, enjoying his warmth and the scent of him. ]

You always smell so nice, darling...

[ ... He could get into the details of that, but recently, he's been quite conscious of the way indulging his vampire instincts in this city has changed his perception of what people feel like to him. It's not something he's used to putting to words, but the words he's come up with... Well. The vampires are a brutal people. ]

Hey, I try. If you like this one, I'll see if I can still find the same kind when I run out.

[...he has enough hair that he goes through a lot of shampoo, so. that's more frequent than he'd like.

'always', though, implies it might be a little more inherent to him. does natural scent get covered up by things like soap and perfume? do they blend? these are the things midnight makes him wonder about as netzach shifts a little more fully to sit in his lap, leaning easily into the attention.]

Midnight. What's your favorite scent? I might be able to find that, too.

[to make himself smell a little more like it, like whatever midnight is fond of.

netzach has no idea about the possible implications of offering to try to take on his favorite smells but this is where we're at we live here now]

[ Midnight's sense of smell hasn't returned in the past half year, but it's still keen enough at close range to pick up individual people; he can sometimes smell jasmine and sawdust and iron just before Kaveh appears to him. It's partially diet, partially environment, partially biology, skin and soap and oil.

(If Midnight was being honest, Netzach smells green and dark, among other things. He smells like sleep, like alcohol. Like moss in an old, old forest. Tonight, he smells like strawberries.) ]

Mm. I like the way you smell. If you like this soap, you should use it. No need to change on my account, love.

[ Just a statement of fact, an acknowledgment. He hums, bridging that thought. ]

I have favorite scents, mind. I wouldn't ask you to wear them, though. There's a bit of history to that.

No need to, sure, but I'm the one offering.

[he doesn't mind it, he's not particularly taken by any scent in particular...

but he's certainly curious, now that midnight mentions there's more to it than that.]

... what kind of history?

[ Midnight pats Netzach's hand again, opens his mouth for another bite of bread, then chews and swallows properly before reaching out, snagging a handful of grapes. He offers one to Netzach, hovering it in front of his mouth. ]

Vampires are a people of constant strife. Of all the Sarkaz tribes, we are the longest lived, so the culture runs deep. If the vampires have no one to fight, we turn on ourselves. Well... those are the old ways, anyhow. Seems terribly exhausting, mm? Self-destructive, not at all constructive.

[ He puts a grape in his own mouth, chews. ]

But that's the way it was. And naturally, in war, one needs a way to mark allies, companions, comrades, as one's own.

[ He taps Netzach's neck. ]

There. That's where the scent branding would go. It's a stamp marked into the skin. Traditionally, it's a mixture of a vampire's favorite scents. No two scents are alike. It's both a ward and a signal; it shows that you are under another vampire's protection, and if properly marked, indelibly, permanently, one's vampire can track the mark across nations.

[ ... He hums. ]

Never did like it much. It's a culture of ownership, really. I want my friends to be free to go where they will without signaling me to their every movement. And scent is a very individual thing. One ought to smell the way one likes.

[he accepts the grape, chewing it slowly, thoughtfully, while midnight speaks. turning on themselves when there are no external enemies... that sounds about right to him, from his experience with the city he comes from. remove the other threats, and they'll start finding other problems they want to fight over. someone has something they want. someone disagrees violently with another.

peace is always such a short-lived thing.

netzach is quiet after he finishes explaining, finishing his bread during it and moving on to steal another grape while he contemplates.]

So asking me to wear particular scents-- it'd feel more like an ownership thing for you?

[a little hum of his own.]

Even if I still didn't mind it? It's not like I really care how I smell or anything, I started going for stronger scents in the first place because you're probably more aware of it than I ever have been.

[ Midnight looks at Netzach, pink eyes thoughtful, slightly lidded. Eventually, he catches Netzach's face, smoothing back his hair. ]

Perhaps it's more the case that I don't want to leave any room for misunderstanding. You are my artist, but you aren't mine to the exclusion of others. And scent is a powerful influence on me. I don't want to push others away from you in the name of an old, outdated instinct.

[ There's some more nuance to it, but Midnight picks at his grapes instead, watching his hands, thinking of a way to phrase it first. ]

In a way... the scent is supposed to remind a vampire of home. And the concept of home is quite loaded for a Sarkaz. I wouldn't mind giving you a few scents to work with, if you like, but I'd prefer that you find something you like yourself, or at least try mixing mine with something of your own. I like you, the way you smell at any given point included.

[ This is the kindest way to put it. The truth is that Midnight has an inclination toward possessiveness, jealousy. The young host ran afoul of it. Midnight does not intend to repeat the same mistakes, no matter how small.

(Murder is not a small mistake. Midnight is very conscious of that.) ]

Mm... It'll probably end up getting mixed anyway just from living with Yesod. I'm probably not going to bother keeping everything separate.

[he's lazy, midnight knows this about him. why keep picking up separate soap for two people when they use the same shower anyway? it's just convenient. he'd end up using yesod's stuff if he ran out, in either case...

(and if midnight's worried about feeling like he'll want to push others away, maybe it'll also be convenient if there's a shared element there between himself and yesod.)]

Give me the ones you'd be okay with me working with... and tell me any you don't want me to wear, if they'd hit too close for you.

[scent is linked to memory, and the association can be powerful for people who aren't vampires. he doesn't want to trip into anything that'd make it unpleasant.]

...think there are parts of it I'm not really going to understand on the same level, though. The concept of home's loaded for you, but it doesn't really exist for me in the first place.

Edited 2023-12-15 10:34 (UTC)

[ Midnight thinks for a moment, then snags another piece of bread, begins jamming it up. If Netzach smells like Yesod too... Well, the solution is to get more familiar with the way Yesod smells. Getting used to his scent will remind him that smelling him on Netzach isn't a threat, that all is well. Right. Hopefully, Yesod won't object to a bit of friendly sniffing every now and then. ]

I like wisteria. And vanilla. Specifically vanillin, the stuff old books smell like. I don't think those two work particularly well together, so using one or the other may work... Ah, champagne would be lovely too.

[ Midnight nods to himself, hands over the second slice of bread once Netzach's done with the first. The scents that Netzach would want to avoid... Well, they're rather unpleasant to the human nose, anyway. ]

You grew up among other orphans, did you not? I can see how that's stunted your conception of what a home is like.

[ Midnight tilts his head. ]

Would you like one? A home.

[wisteria, vanilla, champagne... he nods as he commits the list to memory, taking a couple bites from the new slice of bread. they're not quite what he'd have guessed, if he had to, but thinking about it? they suit midnight.

he wonders, briefly, if he smells at all like books when he's in the city. in the library. back there, he technically is a living book, so wouldn't it make sense...

well, he should just be relieved he doesn't now.]

I did, yeah. Since before I could remember anything. I never knew who my parents were, or if they were alive or dead, so... the best I could do to know anything about myself was guess based off the name they gave me. The one I had before I was 'Netzach'.

[another bite of bread, a little hum.]

I do. I think at this point, it's... something I have to make for myself, probably. We're almost done with the new place, but we haven't even lived there yet, I don't know if that's going to feel like it.

[... especially since it's going to start off feeling a little empty. roland was going to move there with them; his face falls a little, remembering that.]

[ Midnight isn't too certain what Netzach is besides perfectly human enough to love, but that's enough for him. More than enough. That Netzach loves him back is, as ever, icing.

That droop, though. Fortunately, Midnight's at close enough range to catch it once he puts the butter knife on the tray, although the cause isn't entirely clear to him. (He's kind of... stupid.) He returns his last couple of grapes to the tray, leans in, strokes Netzach's hair. ]

A proper home is rare, difficult to make. It was always going to be work. I'll be there, though, and Yesod, and Mr. Chesed.

[ That's when it strikes him. Mr. Roland won't be there, will he? Netzach's mood must be something to do with that, especially given what Midnight's been told about Miss Angela and their fates as Librarians.

He tuts, continues petting Netzach, watching to see if they need to set the food aside for a bit. ]

Don't fret, love. We'll work on it, mm?

...yeah. I know we will. I think it'll be okay, it's just...

It's gonna feel emptier than it was supposed to be.

[with roland's space left vacant, with the uncertainty of his future and gebura's now that they're both gone.

he leans into midnight, but he's still eating a bit, at least, chewing idly on another bite of bread and swallowing.]

Helps if you're there sometimes, though.

Mm. I'll visit.

[ Midnight pulls Netzach in close, folding him against his side, resting his face against his head. Not exactly a kiss, just enjoying the texture and scent of his hair.

He wonders, not for the first time, what his life would look like if he didn't have such a need for distance. If he could be the sort of person Netzach could always look to... He knows Yesod's there for him, in that sense, so there isn't actually any need for concern, but the concern is always there. ]

I'm sorry. You know they wouldn't have left in such a way if they had a choice.

[ Just a gentle reminder that Netzach is cared for. Midnight will feel Miss Gebura's absence in his own way, but he knows others feel bereavement a bit more keenly, especially given their bond. ]

...yeah. They wouldn't have.

[he's probably more or less just using midnight's chest as a pillow, by now, contorting a little in his lap like a cat getting comfortable. he stops at nothing to be peak cozy.

...and maybe it's just reassuring, at the moment, because it's the first time people this far into his own sphere have gone and vanished. it's a reminder, is the thing. a bit of proof that yes, he will be touched more by disappearances, too. people will leave, and it will have nothing to do with whether they wanted it.

those people could be yesod. kaveh. midnight.]

It was like he was never here. Just- overnight. I woke up, and the apartment only had my things in it.

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