Dare You Enter My Magical Realm?

[Jilly]

Oh, towel duty! Abel could totally do that!

Abel hopped and stumbled out of his seat, gently pushing off of Stepney and the loveseat to achieve liftoff. He shot a finger gun at Misty. "I'm, uh... towel. On it!"

With his trusty Solo cup in one hand and fierce determination in the other, he stumbled away of the group and out of the room.

So, uh... where would a towel be?

((Abel Zelenovic continued in Reflections))

[MurderWeasel]

"Thanks." Misty directed that more at Connor than Abel, as the latter was already setting off at an unsteady clip on his mission. The beer was cold to the touch, pale yellow in color but a slightly different sort of yellow than what Misty normally thought of when she imagined beer. It was apparently flavored or infused with lime or some facsimile thereof. That sounded at least marginally more promising for a shower than standard beer, but there remained plenty of room for it to disappoint. It was, in retrospect, a really good thing her clothes were darkly colored.

There was no point in stalling things needlessly. The quicker she got this over with, the quicker the game could resume and the quicker she could find some sort of fun to distract from what would no doubt be a less than exhilarating experience. Misty set out, beer in hand, whoever else in the group was tagging along trailing in her wake, heading for the door to the backyard.

This course took her past the card game in the corner (where one girl looked up at her and the others kept their gazes studiously on their hands), through the hallway (where a coat rack had been almost entirely obscured under abandoned garments, mostly coats but she could swear that was somebody's tank top hanging there too), past an open door into another small sitting room (where another circle of party-goers seemed to be engaged in another game—and was that the echo of a slap? But too late, she couldn’t turn back to gawk), through the kitchen (quite a number of baked goods had appeared since her last excursion this way, something to consider for later—those brownies looked amazing but who knew what was in them?), and then at long last to the glass portal to the outside world. There, Misty took one look at what was going on, saw a ladder being wheeled out and a group of classmates seemingly caught up in a stir over something going on up on the roof, and immediately reconsidered. The last thing she wanted was for some moron to try to scale Forrest's house, fall and break open their head, and then for the first thing the authorities saw as they rolled up to be her dousing herself in alcohol.

"Actually," she said, "bathroom."

So that required turning around, heading back through the kitchen (where someone was dragging himself up from the basement, reminding Misty of the thumping electronic music she'd more or less managed to tune out but was suddenly conscious of and irritated by once more), back past the room with the other circle (it looked tense at a glance but that also looked like Ariana so that went without saying, and Misty was having too good a time to let that bitch bring her down, and what were they playing, anyways? Spin the Bottle? Maybe. Seven Minutes in Heaven? Would explain the slap, but there was no closet or similar space evident. Strip poker? No cards, nobody naked. Beer Pong? No paddles or table. Who cared, anyways? All of that was lamer than Truth or Dare) and finally to a plain white door which burst open, spilling out a giggling underclassman girl with curly blonde hair falling in waves to her shoulders marred by what looked to be a piece of chewing gum caught in the bottom of her tangles which she was utterly oblivious to; she was talking on her phone, all loud "oh my god"s, and Misty brushed past her and into the bathroom, which fortunately had a tub.

There was silence and still for a moment, and Misty felt just a hint of nervousness creeping in. This was going to be such a nuisance, but she'd come far too far to back out. Her gaze flitted around the small chamber, looking over the sink with the tasteful hand towels hanging in front of it, the slightly-too-fancy bottle of hand soap with the curly metal top, the big bathroom mirror and her own reflection therein, grin wide and not as strained to the eye as it was to her mind, that goddamn little gap in her teeth on full display. She looked nice. Hair neat and clean, dress fitting well, tight in the right places and flowy in the others, cut low enough to give a peek without being slutty and hem high enough to do the same. She sighed, softly and quickly. Well, that was just how the game went.

One more deep breath, one moment to say goodbye to composure and elegance, then she stepped into the tub and held the bottle before her, contemplating.

"Someone brought an opener, right?"

[MK Kilmarnock]

Wyatt was one of the people following Misty on her little adventure through the grand Where's Waldo of a mess that was Forrest's house full of people. Some part of him believed that she might actually have been trying to duck out of this one. Insurance against that was part of the main reason for him following. The other part was watching somebody pour beer all over themselves sounded like a riot, plain and simple.

He was halfway through reaching for the bottle opener he kept on his keychain when he remembered just what beer Connor had graced them all with. "Buds are twist-top, girl!" Wyatt called from around the corner of the bathroom door before being able to edge his head around whoever else might have been standing there. "You're not gonna take anything off before doing that? Fuck knows I don't want my clothes smelling like limes all night."

[Pippi]

Of course Stepney was gonna watch this. What did you take him for? Some sorta coward that didn’t wanna watch a poor innocent girl get dunked in gross swampwater masquerading as beer? For starters, Misty didn’t fit that description for even half a second, especially after the stunt she’d apparently pulled with Zen’s phone. For another, anything he was willing to do to himself, you could be damn well sure he was gonna be in the audience for another person doing it.

He’d been keeping on the down-low for two reasons. The first was that he was just having a blast watching everything go down. It didn’t even matter that nobody had been drunk enough to put their money on the line. Yet. He’d been worried that there would be a couple of dud questions or dares put forward, but everything had been pretty high quality so far. It had kinda sucked to lose Abel already, but on the upside, Jeff looked like a wonderful replacement target.

And on that note, the other reason; staying lowkey was just the most sensible thing to do. Jeff, for all his entertainment value, was none too smart. Wyatt, even less so. Stepney hadn’t needed to ask the giant beefcake for his name. His shiny egg-shaped head and general Carter-brother-demeanour had told him everything he needed to know. Jeff and Misty had already pissed a couple of people off, and Wyatt was bound to do the same sooner or later. Furthermore, Jeff was volatile enough that there was a high chance something explosive and highly entertaining would happen in his presence. If they all wanted to slap targets on their own backs without Stepney even doing anything, they could all be his guests.

“Not like you to pass up a wet t-shirt contest, Wyatt,” Stepney said, smirking at the much, much larger boy. His intentions were transparently obvious, and that was all well and good, but Stepney wasn’t here for eyecandy. He was here for the simple pleasure of watching someone pour gross liquid over themselves, like getting dunked in slime on those old TV shows, and having to do it clothed only added to the schadenfreude.

“Besides, the alternative is letting Bud Light touch your skin, and that’s a punishment nobody deserves.”

[Fenris]

See, this was a dare! No permanent harm done, just silliness and a funny moment where they could all laugh together. Though Zen wasn't sure they could have agreed to this one themself; they hated saying no to dares, that was against the point of the game, but Blaise would kill them if they messed up this wig, plus they made this shirt themself and they weren't sure it would stand up very well to stain treatment...

But it didn't matter, cause it wasn't their dare, and Misty seemed to be fine with it! Maybe her dress was stain resistant? Or maybe she'd just take it off for a sec. That would make sense. It was real considerate of her to wait until she got to the bathroom to do it, Zen thought. If it had been anyone else they might have just poured beer all over the carpet, which would be bad, probably. Not that there wasn't already plenty of beer on the carpet by now. Whatever! It was the thought that was important, and Zen's thought was that Misty seemed pretty okay. Even though she sent that message to Lyra, but that was just a mistake. So it was okay.

It was always better to believe in the best in people, after all.

They followed the little group to the bathroom, mostly cause it would've been weird to just sit alone waiting for everyone to get back and only slightly cause they kinda wanted to see. They hadn't really taken stock of Wyatt, the new addition to the group, except that he was very big! And the others seemed to know him. Also he asked Misty why she didn't take off her dress, which seemed like good sense to them. And that was about it!

[blastinus]

Jeff nodded in satisfaction as the group left to satisfy this Dare. To his surprise, Misty was actually going through with it. And even better, Connor had been packing some kind of lime-flavored beer for whatever reason. Well, whatever his original goal was with the repulsive-sounding thing, it was going to a better use now.

Following the rest of the group to the bathroom, the first thing he noticed was that it was way fancier than his parents'. What was that, a marble countertop? For a bathroom sink? Sheesh, what a friggin' waste. With the amount of money spent on this one space alone, he could probably buy himself a brand new car.

The second thing he noticed was that, lavish as it was, it clearly wasn't designed for half a dozen people, especially not when two of those people were broad-shouldered jocks. It had soon become standing-room-only in here, but Jeff wasn't going to leave, not when Connor would be blocking his way of the whole thing. So there he stood, trying hard not to elbow someone in the face, watching intently as Misty stood in the equally-fancy bathtub with a bottle of beer in her hand. What a sight they must have been at that point.

"Any time you're ready," he said. He would have crossed his arms but, once again, not enough space. He'd just have to keep his arms stiffly at his sides. But in a menacing way, of course.

[MurderWeasel]

"I'll be careful," Misty said, in response to Wyatt's show of concern about her state of attire.

She wasn't really a prude, and she wasn't that self-conscious; her dress tonight was certainly on the daring end, and she'd done the dress-code-violation walk of shame more than once in her high school career, to the point she had a light jacket that lived in her locker just to spare her the indignity of being forced into whatever mildewy lost-and-found salvage the administration would otherwise dredge up. She'd conducted rituals in a robe and nothing else—okay, in her room, granted, with the door locked and triple checked and the blinds drawn, but it counted for something—and she wasn’t shy in the locker rooms. But that was a whole world away from stripping off the only truly concealing article of clothing she had on in a room full of classmates she wasn't super close with.

That went double with Wyatt around. No way was she giving him a freebie, and besides, it just felt weird to Misty somehow, the idea of being ogled by someone she was pretty darn sure had done a whole lot more than leer at Faith. Some of her classmates rolled out of one bed and into the next and Misty had no real moral objection to that but the thought of that sort of shared history was strange to her. She could bond with people without having been the object of lust of the same guy as them, thanks. Then again, if Wyatt was more her type, maybe it wouldn't seem such a big deal.

She did, at least, kick off her shoes, scoop them up by the backs with her left hand, and drop them outside the tub. She didn't think beer would be good for suede, and if anyone was going to get off on seeing her toes in stripy stockings they were probably into the whole long sock thing enough that she'd already given them plenty just in her outfit choices.

The bathtub felt cool and smooth against her feet. This was it. No more stalling. Misty managed to avoid audibly sighing as she twisted the top off the beer, the cap rough and prickly against her palm. She'd never liked twisting off bottle caps without something to wrap her hand in, always afraid she'd catch herself on a jagged edge, but that was really the least of her problems at the moment. The beer released a thin plume of vapor, and Misty lifted it to her nose, inhaled like she was relishing what was to come.

Big mistake. That was not a pleasant odor, even in the dubious land of beer smells. Misty tried, perhaps not totally successfully, to avoid pulling a face, then smiled at the assembled audience.

"Well," she said, "here goes."

She leaned over, like she was examining the bottom of the tub, then closed her eyes. Her hair was loose tonight, and fell to both sides of her face, brushing against her cheeks. She silently counted three, then lifted the bottle and poured it straight onto the back of her head.

Right away, she became aware of miscalculations she'd made. The chilly liquid was a shock, and her hand twitched a bit, just enough to allow some of the alcohol to splatter along her mostly-bare upper back and shoulders and to dribble down the back of her dress. She jerked a bit, almost stumbled forward but caught herself with her other hand against the wall, and redirected the flow of beer forward. It was not a nice consistent flow like from a shower, more a sporadic splashing that seeped into her scalp and rolled along her hair, framing her face in a hoppy artificial lime waterfall. It could only have taken five to ten seconds for the bottle to empty, but it felt so much longer, and once it was done she stood for a few seconds more, letting the droplets rain from the ends of her hair, becoming unpleasantly aware of her socks soaking up fluid on its way to the drain. Everything else, the observers, the world, it all faded for a few moments.

Finally, Misty dragged a hand across her face, clearing her eyes, then opened them and straightened up quickly, tossing her head so her hair landed against her back with a chilly wet slap. A single drop of beer trickled down from her scalp across her forehead, traveled the entire length of her nose before she could center herself to swipe it away, and then fell, right down the front of her dress. Her smile was still there, but felt stretched thin.

There were no actual full-size towels in the bathroom, and Abel was nowhere to be found, so Misty grabbed awkwardly for the hand towels by the sink, snatching both up and dabbing them against her chest, her back, her hair and shoulders. The smell was not going away. Her feet felt soggy. She took a deep breath.

"There," she said, trying to put as much triumph as she could into her voice. "Dare fucking complete."

[blastinus]

A satisfied smile passed across Jeff’s face as the show unfolded in front of him. He’d expected some giant splash and that’d be it, but Misty’s misery surpassed even his wildest expectations. Forget about the spiders. There was no way he was going to top this. If Connor had given her the Bud Lime on purpose, knowing this was going to happen, Jeff would have to re-evaluate his opinion of the guy.

“Yup,” he said matter-of-factly as Misty put on her best game face. “I’d say you’re done.”

No point belaboring it. The show was over. Time to get headed back. Gathering up a couple more hand towels in case they needed more, he followed the rest of the group as they weaved their way back to the party room. Abel was a no-show, so these pitiful cloths would have to work.

“K, so I guess it’s you then,” he said to Misty, with no effort to seem sympathetic. Not like she had any choice. It was Wyatt or nothing.

No clue what they’d do for round two, or if there’d even be a round two. He was still game if so. After he’d just talked someone into drowning herself in citrus-flavored piss, there was no point in stopping now.

[MurderWeasel]

The route back to the game circle felt slower somehow, but maybe that was just the occasional droplet of beer sliding down the back of Misty's dress, or else the vague squish that accompanied each step she took. She had not put her shoes back on yet, instead carrying them in her left hand. Her scalp felt sticky, even after the vigorous toweling-off. Maybe it would've been smart to rinse her hair off with water, but that would've interrupted the flow of the game and besides, there was definitely no way to take a shower while fully clothed, not without compounding all the comfort problems she was already facing.

She didn't pay much attention to the rooms she passed this time, barely even spared a glance into the chamber Ariana had occupied (but was that the eponymous Swift heading in? Hopefully to kick ass and take names), and before too long they were back where they had started. Connor was still there, which was good as far as not having their spot jacked by the boring kids playing cards went, though Misty wondered vaguely why he hadn't tagged along. Afraid of something transpiring that would offend his girlfriend, perhaps? Or of being in the background of a photo of a beer shower that made the social media rounds?

It didn't really matter. Jeff had brought some more towels, and seemed in much better spirits. Abel was gone, perhaps swallowed up by the floor or shanghaied by some other group activity. The game, however, marched on. The first round was done, but there was only one way to open the second. They had to include the latest arrival, after all.

Misty had just sunk back into her spot in the huge plush chair, not too worried about what effects the lingering dampness in her hair might have on it (hey, she'd been pretty conscientious so far, she wasn't going to sit on a plastic sheet all night), but pushed her way back up a little, trying to at least look alert and on-point.

"Right," she said, giving Jeff a nod. "Okay. So then...

"Wyatt, truth or dare?"

[MK Kilmarnock]

He'd been in mid sip when Misty finally decided to pop the question to him. Nice to be included, but why was it that Misty was like a waiter? The only thing those fuckers waited for was for your mouth to be full before stopping by for a split second. How is everything, sir? Oh, fine, let me just swallow this massive fucking hunk of meat first and you're already gone. Sunuvabitch. Granted, that sort of situation didn't plague him so much because restaurants were not a thing he frequented too often, given the particulars of his diet. Monthly cheat days were the only real option, and he'd pushed aside this month's in order to save it for the party.

Wyatt flashed a smile and, just because 'fuck it', he took another big swig before licking his lips. "Dare," he replied flatly. "I ain't no bitch, show me whatcha got."

[MurderWeasel]

For just a moment, Misty was tempted to abandon the course of action she'd carefully settled on and actually go hard on Wyatt. It wasn't anything specific about him, just that he'd laid out a challenge and that tended to rile her up, and that was on a normal day when the whole world didn't smell vaguely of limey hops and suffering. Their circle had become no-holds-barred in an awful hurry, and Misty relished the opportunity to practice her cheap shots.

The thing was, though, this was Wyatt, and that meant a certain level of discretion was required. Misty wasn't afraid of Wyatt himself or anything. What could he do to her if she pissed him off? Hit her? She was pretty sure he wouldn't, and even if she was wrong about his style, the optics of beating up a girl about half your size were horrible enough that no amount of social clout would save him. And if he tried to get more creative, well, when it came to a competition of intelligence Misty was pretty sure her edge was comparable to his in the physical realm. But there was another big old factor in play, and that was that Misty kind of liked Wyatt and really liked people who really liked him. They were more or less on the same team, and while friendly fire could be totally hilarious in the right circumstances she had no desire to torpedo any friendships, close to the end of the year or no.

So the question became: what was prickly enough to be entertaining yet would make Faith laugh her ass off when she heard about it later instead of getting her mad at Misty?

Fortunately, she'd been thinking in this vein for a bit now, and once she shook off the urge to escalate, with a quick physical flip of her head that tossed one lingering droplet off to the side, she fell easily into the rhythm.

"'kay," she said. "I dare you, for the rest of the game, to refer to Connor as 'Daddy Connie' and ask his permission every time you want a drink."

Yeah, that was good. Wyatt could spin it however he wanted, play it up and own it or grudgingly groan through it, it was funny either way, it was mostly harmless, and yet it had a good chance of lingering in the public memory. Plus, it got Connor more involved, and Misty had seen the benefits of enlisting accomplices when Abel roped her into assisting with Zen.

[MK Kilmarnock]

Wyatt's cheeks puffed out in incredulous laughter. The air puffing sharply through his nose interrupted several attempts to speak and the can in his hand was raised to his breastbone. "Daddy Connie, hah! Whaddaya think of that one, 'Daddy?'" Wyatt asked, thumping Connor in the ribs with his elbow. "Please daddy, can't I pretty please take a drink?"

Wyatt scrunched up his body and batted his eyelashes trying to clearly play up an element of cuteness that couldn't naturally exist within him. He shot a quick look back to Misty as if to gauge her satisfaction.

[Cactus]

So Misty had not gone and shied away from her dare; the smell that permeated the room as she returned was proof enough of that. Bud Light Lime was a distinctly awful beer, and it had been a very classic 'grab-this-from-the-back-of-the-fridge' maneuver on Connor's part to bring it along. He'd planned on leaving it at the party, to make it someone else's problem, but that problem had gone and solved itself. She seemed none the worse for wear, and wore her new damp scent with a degree of pride. At least, that's what he thought it would have been.

The spectacle had brought the majority of the game along with it, but Connor himself had stayed behind in the room. There was no use losing their prime real estate around the couches, and being discovered by anyone - much less Madison, who had seemingly vanished into the throng of partygoers - leering at a girl dumping a beer over her head in a shower wasn't a place he wanted to be found.

Misty's dare to Wyatt was comparably tame to most of the others, but he couldn't help but cock his eye in amusement as she dragged him into the song-and-dance she was making his pal run. Barely holding back a smirk, Connor feigned gagging on his beer as Wyatt played up the cutesy act. It was classic Wyatt, really. When he felt like playing along with something, he leaned into it with all the force that his massive frame could muster. The playful elbow to the ribs was a bit harder than he would have liked, but that was Wyatt - he knew his own strength, but sometimes forgot himself. Connor didn't mind. He'd taken harder hits; he wasn't a delicate flower. Giving Misty a faux-serious look, he tilted his head at her.

"C'mon, Misty. What are ya tryin' to do, make me sick every five minutes?"

Breaking the serious look, he glanced over at Wyatt and shot him with a finger-gun.

"When y'all ask like that, who am I to refuse?"

Connor laughed, and took another drink of his own beer. It was now Wyatt's turn, and God himself only knew what the senior had in mind.

[MK Kilmarnock]

"Oh, why thank you very much, Daddy Connie." Wyatt threw his head back and poured more beer down his throat, wiping his mouth clear and gasping for air.

"Shit, that's gonna get annoying in about five or ten minutes. Conno- Daddy Connie," Wyatt said, still uncontrollably smirking whenever he said it, "You're gonna have to stick with me all night because I plan on drinking a lot. N' we're gonna have to do this shit in big gulps so I don't gotta waste breath askin' you." He looked around to the group, raising his voice. "ALRIGHT FUCKERS! Who hasn't gone in a while?"

Beat of silence. He wasn't gonna let anybody respond anyway. Let's pick somebody cute.

"ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZEEEEEEEEEEEEN," Wyatt bellowed, letting the name drag out for as long as possible. "Truth or dare?"

[Fenris]

Zee was giggling, cause that was a real good dare, the kind of dare that's funny and doesn't hurt anyone and everyone thinks its funny even the person who got dared and that's the best kind of dare of all, and then, whoa, it was their turn!!! They kinda knew when Wyatt started up with the exaggerated zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz's cause Zen was preeeetty sure they were the only one here with a zzzzz in their name (they weren't sure there was anyone else in the whole school with a zzz at the beginning, actually, but they could be wrong!) but they still didn't react until he actually said it cause what if it was a fakeout??? They couldn't fall for a fakeout. That would be terrible.

They were responding before he was done asking the question, though.

"Dare!" They bounced in their seat, happy it was their turn again so fast! Like it wasn't that they didn't like watching other people go cause they did especially when they got good dares like the one Misty gave but their own last dare had been kinda disappointing because it probably made Lyra sad which was the worst thing but it somehow felt like if they got a better dare this time it'd make it better even though Lyra wasn't here to like hear it and feel better or anything but it would make Zen feel better and that was the second best thing.

That made sense, right?