signed_sabrina | (no subject)

Sabrina Spellman is turning seventeen tonight.

Honestly, in the time since her sixteenth birthday, she's seriously doubted that she would make it to this day-- and certainly doubted that she would be free from the Path of Night and the Path of Night, able to do as she pleases. She's not sure she can say she expected anything that's happened to her over the year, really, not a single thing.

But standing outside the warehouse Kavinsky has thoughtfully offered for her use, in a somewhat accurate Halloween costume, she's absolutely happier than she ever foresaw. Where she'd been worried about losing her boyfriend and best friends, she's got three people she loves so much she can hardly stand it, in entirely different ways. Where she'd had a ghost or worse for a father, she has a dad who knows who she is, her capabilities, and loves her only for being herself. She misses her aunts and Ambrose, but knowing that she's still back with them is of great comfort. She can't say she's doing much better on the high school front, but she's not sure she cares.

Enough people seem fascinated by the sex cult rumors that when she and Salem had littered both high school campuses, Sabrina had got plenty of takers. The party itself will start soon, and Sabrina looks up, comforted by the lack of full moon. Taking her broom, she carefully sweeps each step clean, feeling the ritual settle her. The warehouse inside looks a lot like a clearing in the woods, complete with bonfire, and if the punch is spiked, well-- it is a high school party.

Threaded | Flat

Rosie's still not sure whether the costume she'd bought in a fit of pique weeks ago made her look ridiculous or devastating--though Sabrina's decidedly strong opinion on the matter had managed to tip the scales quite a bit--but she's not about to forgo wearing it tonight. And so, she's here as some kind of vampire queen; that gorgeous boned corset laced tight along her torso, the accompanying skirt a fountain of black satin, the ribbon choker looped against her neck and its single blood-bright jewel twinkling in the light. It's like nothing she's ever worn before, not even compared to that gorgeous dress she'd been put into years ago and a world away now for the Festivity, and despite her lingering awkwardness, Rosie's more than a little thrilled by that.

With the party kicked into high gear, Rosie's mingling: dancing with Nick, Charlie, or Sabrina in all manner of combinations; laughing and talking with friends along the edges of the dance floor; refueling at the refreshments table with a glass of punch or a plate of food. It's all a mad, lovely whirl, exactly the kind of evening she'd have wanted for someone as special as Sabrina, and one that she's so, so happy to have the chance to share with her.

Not even the quiet hiss of all those rumors, now set free from the halls of Petros for the night and the sole reason easily a third of the people in attendance are even here at all, can fully dampen her spirits. Enough so, that when Rosie spots someone out of the corner of her eye gawking openmouthed at her, all she does is turn to them with a cold little smile on her face. "You do know you look like a fish, right?" she says before turning away once more, that cold smile melting to something a bit broader and far more amused as she walks off.

There's a good bit of time between finally getting Catarina to lay down for bed and returning to his own party proper that Magnus uses to drops by Sabrina's. He's heard enough rumors of a sex cult floating around among the teenagers that he's certain there won't be a sex cult, and therefore has no qualms about sidling into the warehouse.

He's really only here for Sabrina, which is why the less than grand entrance, and why he keeps the tentacles on his Ursula costume to himself.

Which is also why at the first notice of him by a scoffing teen, he puts on his best too earnest smile and saunters over.

"Hello fellow youths. That's a nifty costume." Come at him, kid, he dares you.

Rowan doesn't actually know Sabrina, but he knows Rosie which means he is determined to make an appearance at this party, if only for her. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to know other people in his age range, right? He should be in his first year of college, but instead he's working, occasionally, and feels old. Older than he should.

But that's Goddard's fault, or even Faraday's, not his. Not even Darrow's. That's the fault of the man who turned him into a weapon, who took the last remnants of his childhood and made him into his image.

He tries to shake off that feeling as he slips into the warehouse, looking for people he knows. He's never been the type to actively try to make new friends, but he's easy to approach, dressed up in his hamburglar outfit and not trying to make any waves.

Nick's come dressed as the Spellbinding Scratch in all his glory: white tie, top hat, tails. Both of his girlfriends look devastatingly good and he's enjoying just watching them, even if every time he touches them, it seems to start off a wave of whispering. So what? Nick's never cared if people want to talk about him.

Mostly, he's invested in Sabrina having a good time, both at the party and with what he's going planned afterwards.

For a high school party, Sabrina thinks it's all going pretty well.

Certainly it's better than some of the parties she can remember from another time, another place-- no awful revelations or Dark Baptisms. She's not worrying about the coming of midnight for any other reason than making sure to spend extra time with Nick and Rosie, since she's going home with Charlie.

There might continue to be whispers, but another glass of spiked punch goes down surprisingly easy, and another song picks up, sending Sabrina to grab the hand of the nearest person, tugging them into the swirl of bodies with her.