metaverses | ( open to all ) all the world's a stage

Who: Open to All
What: Party @ The Opherium
When: August
Where: Central City
Content Warnings: N/A

( i. here for your entertainment )

[ most people would see the strange arrivals as an imposition. and loki does to some degree. that being said, he’s more than willing to turn that problem into a business opportunity. show that he’s open and welcoming. throw in a little extra money to establish the theater as a prominent spot in this world. the doors are open, fees are reduced. and if you’re not interested in catching a play, you might want to stop by the steps where there are a few vendors selling cotton candy, ice-cream sandwiches and beer to passersby and there are a few street performers there to catch your attention, whether they’re juggling fire balls, doing magic tricks or simply playing a pianoforte on the steps of the opherium. ]

( ii. the curtain rises )

[ for this month, loki is running a bunch of shakespearean plays. hamlet, macbeth, the twelfth night . . . you name it, it’s probably running. during the intermissions, there’s an open bar for you to rub elbows with the other patrons, maybe discuss your favourite part of the play. enjoy the arts so to speak. if you catch the really late night shows, you might find that your favourite plays might . . . turn out a little differently. like the trees are real in macbeth. that the ghosts move through the audience, sending chills down your spine. but the experience is still worth it. or is it?

or perhaps, you might need some alone time after a show, wanting to catch the infamous view of the city from the opherium's balcony. the choice is yours. ]

( iii. something wicked this way comes )

[ the theater keeps up odd hours. its productions run late into the night. and sometimes, you might feel the urge to linger and explore. after all, it’s strange to hear that a god of mischief is running a theater these days. almost suspicious even! so you might be wandering the halls, ears and eyes peeled to hear anything that might be unusual.

and you might just get your wish. a ghostly murmur, the flicker of a shadow against the pane of glass, statues that seem to be unnerving with their gaze upon you . . . is there something really there or are you just imagining things? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

⸻ forte

[ Leave it to the world's deadliest assassin to draw in a crowd.

As per usual, his first goal upon entering this new space is to gather information, whatever form that takes. Sometimes it looks like a covert killer keeping his ear to the ground and his hands in his pockets. Sometimes it looks like a spooky angel playing piano in front of a crowd of people.

Chances are they already had eyes on him, mind you. Meta and monster aren't entirely synonymous. Some people, he's noticed, look as exaggerated as he does. Most don't. He's in the monster minority, which means it's better to abandon the pretense of normality and lean into the absurdity of being once again taken to a new place with new rules and new people.

Surely, it occurs to him that he may have enemies here, that he should keep out of the spotlight, but Slade's worst enemy has always been himself, and he's been dealing with himself for decades.

He can handle it.

Once he wraps up, he turns slightly on the piano's stool to face, well, whoever. ]

Requests open.

⸻ to be, or not to be

[ While he doesn't exactly believe in luck, Slade knows better than to say Macbeth in a crowded theater, let alone see it. So that rules that out. Hamlet, though, is a good one. He'll take Hamlet, even if the point is definitely lost on him. Swearing revenge after the loss of a family member is so familiar he has to ignore it.

He's sitting in the middle of the theatre, dorky opera binoculars held up to his eye(s)—which only work half as well as they should with the eyepatch covering two-thirds of his vision, but he holds them just the same. ]

There are no 'good guys' in this.

[ Some white guy in a tux is going to try and mansplain Shakespeare to you in whispered tones. Better brace yourself. ]

There is no good. There is no bad. People are never just one or the other. Hamlet thinks he's good, but he's not. Revenge is neither a moral or an amoral thing. It's colorless. Agender.

[ Please hush him. ]

⸻ ghosting

[ After crashing on the couch of a vampire in the most haunted side of the Ryslig peninsula, Slade isn't afraid of no ghost. Even if the statues turn to watch him on his way to the bathroom and back, he isn't curious enough, or motivated enough, to investigate. There are bigger things in this world, like making money, killing Titans, and finding his ~~found family~~ team.

So, instead of looking for ghosts, he stands out on the balcony and looks out at the city. For a better view, he flaps his wings and flies higher into the air, which is just something he can do now, apparently. He lands on the roof beside a lump that looks like a gargoyle, but he isn't so high that he can't see what's going on down on the balcony. Should something catch his attention, he's ready to swoop like a dark angel. Or a weird goose. Whichever fits. ]

[Jason nods, surprisingly not too bothered by the three-eyed man]

That's precisely the point and what really makes the whole thing tragic. It's not about the body count.

[ Joe Wilson doesn't need to see the wings and horns to see the pianist as a borderline monster. At best, he's a deeply troubled man. At worst, an unrepentent killer who's near immoral.

At all times, he's Joey's dad.

When Slade turns to the audience, he'll find his son just regarding him for a long moment. ]

Requests open? How far open?

[ He is going to try and handle this civilly. After years of dealing with his father and everything that follows in his wake, Joe has every reason to suspect that Slade is involved in the chaos outside and to request that he put a stop to it. Civilly. ]

[ OOC note: All ASL will be presented as italicized dialogue, bold will be used for emphasis. ]

( open to all ) all the world's a stage

Slade Wilson | Ryslig CRAU | OTA

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