the stewards (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thestewards) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
agentlelog2019-03-19 07:00 pm
thestewards) wrote in agentlelog2019-03-19 07:00 pm
event: a gentle festival
We wander 'round in circles and we talk in squares
► The OOC plotting post for this event can be found here.
► Direct all questions to the mods at this link.
► All NPCs except for Queen Fayura can be met at this event. Use their top-levels in the plotting post if you'd like a thread with them for this event. For your convenience, you can reach out here: Allairavar, Verim, Loren, Niall, Grejor, and Raya. They may choose to wander into your threads should you not plan anything out with them, too.
► Direct all questions to the mods at this link.
► All NPCs except for Queen Fayura can be met at this event. Use their top-levels in the plotting post if you'd like a thread with them for this event. For your convenience, you can reach out here: Allairavar, Verim, Loren, Niall, Grejor, and Raya. They may choose to wander into your threads should you not plan anything out with them, too.
PARTY PLANNING
Dawn arrives and brings with it another group of Strangers. Unlike the first group, you wake to a comfortable bed and cheery birdsong. Unlike the second group, you are expected. As you rise, a vase with spring flowers appears on the table beside your bed. Tucked beneath the vase, you find a message of welcome inviting you to join the Queen and her residence for breakfast.
Following directions given by footmen throughout the residence’s winding halls, you make your way toward breakfast, only to find that breakfast is a beautiful disaster.
Maids and footmen rush around you, choreographed by a red haired witch standing on a chair in the middle of the entry hall. She wears an apron and a look of fierce concentration. Beside her, a list floats in the air. Pinned to her hair, her Tiger Eye Jewel flashes and swirls with power. You suspect you should just sneak out, but she’s too observant.
“You there!”
You freeze. Maybe you had a mother with eyes in the back of her head who always knew where you were. Maybe that was a teacher or some other kind of mentor. Regardless, you know this voice. You know this tone. This is a person harried and pressed, and she probably doesn’t care that you haven’t eaten breakfast yet.
“Yes, you! Stranger!”
You turn toward her and abruptly find your arms full of banners. Closer inspection will reveal each flag sewn to the cord bears a different symbol: one for the Guilds (a hexagon with circles at each joint), the Ebon Council (a pair of Jewels side by side), and Fayura’s Court (a strange, spiraling spear against a mountain peak); a sun and a moon; a cloud flush with rain and lightning; and a sprouting plant.
“Make sure those get hung on the eaves outsi—no, I haven’t seen the Lady, Carlisle, but if you—”
A Blood male has distracted her, but you’re left with the distinct impression that if you don’t hang these banners, the Head Housekeeper will hunt you down (you would be correct). Not to worry: you’re not the only Stranger living in the residence, and it takes you little time to locate someone else with an equally bomb-blasted look on their face to help you help the residence prepare for the spring festival! There are flags to be hung, simple breads to be baked, stalls to be built in the Bazaar, and so much more. Your hands work, and so you work.
HOPE BLOOMS ETERNAL
At sundown, the festival begins in earnest: people take to the streets in every section of the city, pouring into the Old Town Bazaar with rosy cheeks and broad smiles. The spring festival will last for the next six days. Three days to celebrate, and three days to work.
All around the city, banners hang from and between homes and businesses. Some fluttering banners bear flags emblazoned with only the Guilds’ symbol or the Council’s or the Court’s, and there are far more Guild banners than any other—a result of the Strangers’ providing support to the Guilds no doubt. But mixed among them are flags bearing both the Queen’s mountain, too, just not as many, and the only place the Council’s flags hang are over Blood homes.
As you make your way through the Bazaar, you hear…
A young landen man: I’ve heard the Queen is going to honor the Earth Mother and Father Sky during planting in a few days, and—
His companion, an older woman: The Blood honor only death and their Darkness. What does she care for our beliefs?
A Blood farmer: …kind of gift. Don’t quite know what to make of a Queen giving anything.
A landen farmer: Anything to help the crops grow. The Guilds mean well, but the land is overworked.
An excited little girl: —ride the unicorn, mommy! There’s a unicorn and a dragon and a centaur and a—
Near the pavilion at the heart of the Bazaar, the landen Guilds have erected technological wonders. A carousel of glittering bronze and metal lights up the night with rainbow colors. Music spills out of it, cheerful and bright as its three rings turn in lazy revolutions. Unicorns and dragons and centaurs and mermaids stand as mounts for the young and old. Nearby, the Elektriline Guild prepares a light show, projecting fantastical shapes in dazzling colors on the sides of buildings and into the night sky itself. Around the park to the south of the Bazaar, the Transport Guild has set up a racing track for unicycles and tricycles.
Booths with games line the streets. Knock down the glass bottles! Throw the ring around the spoke! Win prizes to dazzle your loved ones and delight your children!
While food has certainly been scarce, the bakeries and charcuteries have brought out their best fare at surprisingly reasonable prices. This is a time to celebrate the end of winter and the beginning of spring, and celebrate the city will.
While the Blood dress in nice clothes, the landens bring out costumes. As is tradition, some dress as Father Sky, wearing crowns of gold and flowing robes of white. Others cloak themselves in the vestments of Mother Earth: wearing costumes of green and brown, painting vines over their faces to disguise themselves and crowning themselves in garlands of crocuses and tulips. Whispers through the Bazaar say the Queen is among them, disguised as Mother Earth.
SOWING THE FUTURE
The fourth morning of the festival, the entire city rises with the dawn. Over the past three days, a strange rumor wound its way through Draega: Fayura will join the planting to give a gift unique to the Queens of the Blood.
Members of the Ebon Council and the Guilds organize groups, directing the bodies of the entire city to go to this farm or that as they step out from behind Draega’s tall, protective walls. But before you are dismissed to help till the land or plant grain seeds, you join a larger crowd at a nearby farm. The Blood airwalk, standing above the landen crowds to gain a better view.
At the head of a recently tilled field, Queen Fayura stands with a landen farmer. He grasps his hat, wringing it fiercely in his hands as her Steward, Master of the Guard, and Consort stand guard behind her. Dressed in greens and browns, crowned in a garland of crocuses that drips dried stalks of wheat down her hair, she kneels before a bucket. She calls in a knife. When she speaks, she doesn’t raise her voice, but Craft projects it across the assembled onlookers. “Blood sings to blood. This is a gift: freely offered,” she says. “Freely given.” Bright red blood blooms across her palm as she drags the blade through skin. Vanishing the knife, she closes her fist and squeezes, allowing the blood to fall into the bucket of water and mix with it.
Her Consort heals her wound when she holds out her hand, and then he steps back. She rises, picking up the bucket and taking hold of the ladle on the ground beside it. Her voice lifts in song. Though the language is unrecognizable, the melody is beautiful and full of the vibrant hope of spring. She sings as she walks along the furrows, sprinkling bloodied water on the land. Blood and Strangers alike feel the pull of magic as something in the earth itself unfurls, shuddering awake at the call of the Queen’s blood.
For the next three days, nearly every man, woman, and child in Draega assists with the planting. Children do small, simple tasks, and the older children watch over the younger ones. The adults drag plows through the warming land and spread seeds in the furrows the plows create. Queen Fayura visits each field in turn, and planting doesn’t begin until she’s sprinkled her water over the earth. Throughout the day, her vibrant song echoes around the city, and a few Blood girls, too young to yet wear a Jewel, take up the song and hum along with it.
You would do well to help the farmers. You may not have a strong arm or strong back, but there’s planting to be done and people to organize, feed, and care for.
AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you’re spinning the dial on your own device, you’ll hear…
etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] …do we make of a Warlord Prince’s reaction to his Queen’s blood?
[Aren, whose voice is typically chipper and bright, sounds today much more seriously than usual.] It’s a dangerous thing. Elemental, you might say. Like a storm. Every Prince is dangerous when his Lady’s blood spills.
[Evandra:] So, are we in danger when the Queen does whatever ritual she’s doing?
[Aren:] No. The Blood put great importance on, well, blood. It’s the memory’s river. Power sings in blood. It carries strength and Craft. I’ve never seen a Queen do anything like this before, but her Princes—and her court—treat it like ceremony. And it probably is.
the weather
[A soft-spoken man’s voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He’s pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] …continued rains with intermittent sunshine over the next few days as the days grow steadily warmer. Remember that rains coming out of Askavi are dangerous to your health, and salves for lesions from exposure can be purchased from the Medicos at…
the news
[Garret speaks at his brisk pace, hurried and harried as though he has too much to say and not enough time to say it.] A new development in the story of the young landen man who shot and killed Councilwoman Vera last month: the Strangers have influenced the Queen to bring together a Tribunal not of other Queens—
[Wilt, as usual, is put upon and nasally.] As though there are many of those to go around.
[Garret, continuing as though Wilt didn’t interrupt him:] —but of the landen man’s peers, both landen and Blood.
[Wilt, sighing:] That’s correct, Garret. It seems this Tribunal of three landens and three Blood will listen to the young man’s account, as well as the stories of other witnesses, and determine a suitable punishment. This will be presented to the Queen, and she will carry out the sentence.
[Garret:] Looking now to the warming weather and what that means for trade with the mercenary settlements outside of Draega—
no subject
as usual this one is the lalli bonus round
So. Hoping and praying for a fun festival outing with Lalli, where is he...
Whatever Lalli is doing when Emil finds him, Emil naturally does not stop to politely wait for him to notice he's come up behind him. He taps him on the shoulder, polite, and then slides his hand down to hook his arm around Lalli's, clingy. It's officially Emil Time, so please, give him your undivided attention.]
Hey! I was looking for you. I brought you food!
[Which he's got in his other hand; sliced meats artfully arranged on a wooden stick, from the charcuteries. It's not bread - he got Lalli a sandwich, but with no bread the way he apparently prefers, and also on a stick. Love him.]
Come look around with me!
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sweat and suffer, emil
Lord Grejor isn't the sort anyone usually finds out in the fields, and he still doesn't look like he belongs, yet there he works, steadily toiling.]
You are not a child, Stranger. [His voice is cultured an urbane, as though he was taught from a young age how to speak. Each word, he measures carefully, and he speaks none that aren't intentional.] Leave the towels and the water to those too young to work. Come, you have a Jewel. You can use it to make the labor easier. [For all his trappings of wealth and money, for all his exacting intonation and carefully chosen words, he isn't speaking down to Emil.
Well. Not yet.]
that's the plan 👌
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b-iii
He's saving it for Jester on the off-chance she shows up as an apology for not getting to her sooner. If Caleb can be here, then surely Jester could turn up too.]
Their aim is flawless. It's like they've preparing to toss flower crowns at people their entire lives. I'm into that.
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a
"My sister loved them. She would always ask me to take her when there was a fair in London." His lips tilt in a faint smile. "Before the war, of course."
He glances at Emil. "You should try it if you haven't before."
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c.
Here's a volunteer... Haein's been hard at work for once by helping out with all this planting. He's taking a break, hydrating with some of that good ol' water and wiping his dirty hands on a towel given to him when he overhears Emil trying to swap jobs with a landen.
It's kind of sad to see... but in a funny way. ]
Try getting down on your knees and begging.
[ He says it like it's the world's most helpful advice. Look at this genuine compassion and support. ]
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a.
[ well, obviously. at this point, leo's not even surprised at emil's wonder at a moving carousel — instead, he beams at emil brightly and asks, ]
Isn't it awesome? Come on, which one's your favourite? Mine's the dragon.
[ you know, for his best pal festus. of course, this particular dragon is hardly as cool as his flying sentient full-size mechanical dragon back home, but still. ]
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c
You ain't soundin' desperate at all. [Sarcasm.]
Not a fan o' a botanist's work?
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sansa stark
Sansa knows a good deal about planning parties, even if it’s been a long time since she’s done it herself. When it seems there’s some sort of need for banners being hung and decorations strung along booths in the city, she is quick to volunteer.
Everything is so cheerful, so bright. Winterfell is in the midst of a hard winter, the hardest anyone has ever seen. Supplies will be stretched thin and if they don’t die from war, hunger will follow close on its heels. To see a world about to burst into bloom and to celebrate it is something that brings a smile to her lips even if she feels a bit guilty about it; she tries to push down the guilt and focus on the swell of happiness rising within her.
She sees someone from the corner of her eye and she calls them to help her – she’s halfway through hanging a string of globes lit with witchlight and one side keeps drooping. “Help me straighten it with Craft, please?”
ii. hope blooms eternal
When the festival is finally up and running, Sansa is enchanted. Even before it gets dark, she can see how lovely it is, and she simply must go. She knows she will want to stay well into the evening, though, to see the lights twinkling and the magic of it all and so she will need an escort. Luckily, she and Bucky have come to an arrangement: whenever she needs an escort out of the palace to a place that is less than safe, he will accompany her. She’s grateful for his help and so she finds him just before the festival opens so she can take full advantage: she’ll be playing the games, riding the carousel and trying the food.
At one of the first booths she sees, there are lovely crowns made of flowers. She has the marks to purchase them, carefully saved and tucked away during her first month in the Queen’s residence, and she spends enough to get two. Her own is a lovely yellow, bright as the sun, and the other is deep blue like winter roses. She carefully places her own crown upon her head before turning to Bucky, rising on her toes to put the crown upon his head.
“You must look like you’re having at least a bit of fun,” she insists, smiling softly. “And this one compliments your coloring. It’s the color of a bright blue sky.”
iii. sowing the future
Sansa awakes early on the fourth day of the festival and dresses warmly, as winter’s chill still clings to the early morning. There is a special ceremony today and while she doesn’t understand what the Queen is doing with her blood, her voice is absolutely stunning. Afterward, everyone is asked to help start the planting.
Sansa knows little of farming. Still, she wants to help, and there are minor hurts to tend to while men and women work the fields: this one has a blister, this one has turned pink from the sun. She brings them water and food, uses bits of Craft to heal what hurts they have and tend their needs. Anyone who needs her will have her come at a simple word; she’s attentive this day and desires to help.
iv. wildcard
PM me or contact me at sheikah#5408 to plot something else if you want!
ii. for the grouchiest festival night
Between the time of day and his dark cloak, he would be difficult to spot, something he intentionally made more difficult by weaving through the back-ends of the stores and shops. The last thing he wanted to do was be in a crowd of people - but maybe he just needed a little encouragement.
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Re: ii.
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i!!
Re: i!!
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katniss everdeen
Katniss doesn’t want to help with planning anything, much less a party. This kind of excess is Capitol nonsense and while she’s grown tired of the military austerity of 13, this isn’t what she wants to replace it with. Someone conscripts her to put up banners, though, so she’s doing that because she’s tall and tall people always get conscripted into this kind of thing. She remembers in 12 that any time someone would have a birthday, they’d try to find flowering vines or something to decorate with – something to make it special. Since she’d had almost enough to eat because she hunted, Katniss had been one of the taller kids from the Seam and able to reach higher than most.
She steps back to check how the banners are hanging when she backs into someone. Normally she can hear better but it’s like her hearing is too sharp here, too much. She needs to learn how to filter out the noise and only hear what she wants but she hasn’t exactly succeeded in it so far. She turns to look at the person she nearly trampled and gives them an apologetic look.
“Does that look straight to you?”
ii. hope blooms eternal
Katniss doesn’t want to go to the festival at first but she ends up going mostly because of the promise of food. The food in the palace isn’t so bad, really, but she’d help put up some of the booths earlier and seen cakes and pastries that reminded her of the things Peeta used to put together in 12. She’s never been much of a cook, preferring instead to just being the provider, and it’s another bitter reminder of how she and Peeta work in sync as much as she doesn’t want to work with him.
When she walks through the stalls, she sees a cheese bun that almost smells like one of his and buys two of them – one to save and one to eat now. She eats it in tiny bites, trying to savor it, and wanders her way down to the games. Most of them seem to require good aim and she notices they seem a little harder than they look on the face. Tricks, of course, so you can’t win the prizes. Well. Screw that.
After seeing more than one kid cry because they can’t knock over the bottles or ring them, Katniss decides to give it a try. She’s good at this kind of thing normally but it seems the Jewel pinned on her chest makes her even better. It only takes a little effort to get the hang of it and she collects a good number of stuffed animals as prizes, handing them out to boys and girls clustered around to watch her.
iii. sowing the future
Katniss never minds hard work so on the fourth day of the festival, she wakes before dawn to help with the planting. She likes to gather plants from the earth, know their names and how to use them to survive in the wilderness. She doesn’t understand why the Queen cuts herself and offers blood to the ground. Why would she do that? Why hurt herself for people who don’t care about her, don’t respect her?
She doesn’t get it but she keeps her thoughts to herself for now, working out her tension and uncertainty through work. She plows and plants until there are blisters on the heels of her hands and there’s pink flagging her cheeks and nose from the sun. She wipes sweat from her brow and streaks dirt on it as the sun goes down, looking at neatly planted rows.
Is this what they do in 11? It’s backbreaking work, to be sure, but there’s a certain pride in seeing it done. She doesn’t think miners in 12 feel this way at the end of the day, that’s for sure.
iv. wildcard
PM me or contact me at sheikah#5408 to plot something else if you want!
hope
[Niall has spent much of the festival people watching. Observing the Blood, cowed by recent events and stripped of their social power, and the Strangers who took that power from them. It's been interesting watching, and it pleases him to think that the Strangers see the Guilds as far more sympathetic than the Blood.
They are, of course—sympathetic, that is. The Blood take and take and take and give nothing back. Naturally, a neutral party would see the truth in that.]
Even if you are using Craft to cheat.
[Niall tosses a copper mark on the booth's surface and hefts a ball. The balance is off, but this is a familiar trick. People run scams with poorly-weighted toys in the slums all the time. He lobs the ball forward, aiming for the bottoms of the bottles arrange opposite him and Katniss.
They all topple, the wild force of his throw toppling them even with their heavy bottoms. With two balls still left, he grins at her.]
How are you finding Draega, Stranger?
l o l
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hope blooms eternal, aka cheese! buns!
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Party planning
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iii gimme that good silence
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party planning
Re: party planning
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party planning
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Guts is notably absent from the party preparations, due for a good scolding when the fiery Witch in charge manages to find him. None of the activities were something he wanted any business with - there were too many people, too much talking, too much bumping and touching.
Instead, he could be found on the Practice Fields, or in a quiet spot of Draega, training and doing maintenance on the equipment he had on hand. His wounds haven’t quite healed enough to freely wield his blade of choice, but he had an assortment of other things spread neatly over a cloth: throwing knives, daggers, a repeater crossbow, tools for his metal arm, and the longest two-handed greatsword he could find on the training grounds.
Sowing the Future
a.
Despite being sparse for most of the celebration, Guts would easy to find at the Farms, even during the official ceremony. The foul mood that had hung over him seems to have mostly evaporated. Maybe it was the songs and the sounds of spring, or simply by momentarily losing himself in the manual work.
The sights or fields being tended to brought back tranquil, mundane memories. Only then, he’d been up on a saddle or simply passing through, watching bent over backs while equally being an object of fascination. He’d never plowed soil himself, but it was simple enough to listen to the farmers and diligently follow their instructions.
Tilling the fields was one of the few times he’d be seen without his equipment - he simply donned some old work clothes, instead - but Guts still carried his sword with him or left it nearby. For all his inability to leave himself without some weapon, he seems to be able to find a kind of peace putting seeds in the ground the old-fashioned way.
As usual, he would be hesitant to stop work once he got in the groove of it, but maybe a little nudging could get him to pause and actually take a moment to rest.
b.
Halfway through the day, a group of landen children spend a moment of relaxation distracted by the Dragonslayer lying flat on some wooden boxes.
A few of the older ones take turns trying to move the sword, barely managing to get it to budge. It was less fine blade and more table-sized hunk of metal, both brutish in design but well-forged for what it was. It was a bit of a miracle the thing could hold any edge at all.
“It ain’t a toy,” its owner says, the growl in his voice earning a flinch from the adolescent children. Clearly, he’d had enough of kids and bugs. Maybe someone else should swoop in to inject a little more levity?
Wildcard
[HIT ME]
causality strikes back (for emil & lalli)
Weaving between the back houses of busy bakers and charcuteriers, he wanders the streets like a large, scowling shadow. The man clearly hates fun, but maybe the fun simply needed to find him.]
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sowing the future: a
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Party Planning
sword party sword party
it is the BEST party
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sowing b
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Zita Harrington.
[ it's utterly terrifying how zita and the head housekeeper click in their mission to wrangle more individuals in helping with the setup of the festival. when not helping plan the placement of booths and helping decorate said booths so they stand out, zita can often be found trying to rope others into helping with the cause. through a
it's certainly interesting to see zita throw herself into something so wholeheartedly. given her established aloofness and quietness when it comes to getting involved in things, one would think she would duck her head for this as well.
but perhaps one could give her some slack- this is the first time a month has come and gone and nothing terrible has happened. a festival is a much needed break for everyone and something about the festival reminds her of the carnival. it'll soon be over three months since her departure from her family and friends there. the longest she's ever been away from anyone there too. perhaps this is her way of soothing the pain of separation.
by forcing others to help with an event they had no knowledge of until her surprise ambush of them like right about now- ]
Hello! [ zita quickly falls in step with the person she is trying to corral into helping. she smiles at them, the very image of patient friendliness you'd expect from mysterious ladies who run mysterious circus booths at night. that, and people who are wielding clipboards like weapons and would like a minute of your time to discuss some things. ] Do you have a minute to discuss some things?
I assure you- It's very important.
ii;; perks of being a wallflower.
[ you think living in a carnival would allow zita to have an edge of sorts when the festival actually rolls around.
but no. she likes to think there's a difference in living in a carnival and participating in a carnival. especially during the peak hours of it. there's a reason she mans a small and quaint little booth instead of, say, helping perform at the big top for the evening's performance.
as a result one can find zita hanging back from the big crowds and wanting to keep it that way. she can mostly be found sitting at benches or tables to try and get some space for herself and the teeming crowds for the festival. though she doesn't mind when someone suddenly sits next to her and she thinks they seem... agitated? hard to say at the moment but they are near the game booths and she's taken a minute to get a good look at them- ]
For what it's worth? The one with the bottles are clearly rigged from the start.
iii;; it takes a woman's touch.
[ physical labour and zita do not mix. it won't stop her from trying to aid with the farming when the call for help is raised, but it means she needs to be a bit more creative in helping others. they'll be doing the actual tilling and planting of the lands. she'll have to find a way to aid them when they do this.
so she falls back on her usual use of her magic in times like these: healing others.
which works out well enough, much to her relief. the wounds one would get from this activity are minor enough. scrapes and bruises from dropping a rake on themselves. perhaps an accidental deep cut somehow. the amount of workers leaves zita pleasantly busy enough, helping those who approach her for her healing powers while she also actively searches for those in need.
she and the farmer she was just helping out are now parting ways and she does a quick turn when she sees someone is right behind her. ]
Oh-!
[ startled, she takes a quick step back before realising her behaviour. zita stops herself from obviously backing away and she has to cover her mouth to smother some of her nervous laughter. she both looks and feels embarrassed over her, well, overreaction. ]
I'm sorry about- You surprised me there. Is there something you need?
iv;;; wildcard!!
[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. ]
iii.
I am so sorry, Zita. I was just trying to watch what you were doing so I might learn how to heal a little better. I know you have more power than I do but I thought the principles might be the same.
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perks of being a wall flower
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Daylight vis Lornlit.
[ after helping out with the preparations of the festival - daylight is going to have fun and, by gosh, he is making sure everyone around him is also going to have fun too....
that's day's mission for the, er, day as he cavorts through the festival, passing through the booths and the crowds with undeniable glee and wonder. he has faint memories of dust tumbles these days but he remembers the parties and celebrations they would throw when holidays or events rolled around. he recalls the excitement and the joy, the energy that crackled in the air as people enjoyed themselves. the festival's activities almost remind him of home and that's- nice. really nice.
though, at some point, daylight is going to wind down and want to stay in one spot. but due to his need to burn energy, he's got to do something instead of sitting on his servos and do nothing.
and, well, he knows he has his art materials still. why not use them?
it isn't long before a crowd gathers around day and, for once, it's not for the usual reasons. as he sketches out a couple and happily chats with them, he happens to spot someone from the corner of his optic and he needs to flag them down. do they look interesting? do they have a connection with day somehow? it isn't immediately known yet. all one can know for sure is that day needs to grab their attention. ]
Hey! [ he raises a servo up, trying to catch their eye. ] Do you want a free drawing?
ii;; the one where he fucks up the carousel.
[ he honestly thought he could ride it. it looked like it could carry his weight. even if it could he didn't think it'll end like this.
those are the thoughts that go over daylight's processors while he tries to help some of the tinkerers fix the now totalled carousel. despite the fact he's easily the biggest one in the area, he's trying everything in his power to make himself smaller. especially when the sound of yet another child fills the air, only adding to the collection of crying kids whose hopes and dreams are now dashed with the demise of one of the more popular rides.
for what it's worth- daylight is helping make progress in fixing the carousel. he may not be an engineer or inventor by occupation or interest, but he's managed to learn a thing or two about.
if/when asked why the heck he thought it'll be a good idea to do this, daylight has to avert his optics and mutter his answer under his breath: ] ... I thought it wouldn't break.
[ a m a z i n g. ]
iii; a green thumb.
[ if there's one daylight prides himself in - it's his ability to just about make anything grow. ever since he learned his mother was passionate for gardening when she was still alive, daylight had taken up the hobby for himself and it's become his own passion after that. there's something soothing about going through the motions of watering plants, weeding the lawns. there's certainly something about it that makes him take it seriously as his art, taking the time to study more about plants and the methods/tricks other uses to ensure a successful grow.
so when others are asked to help with the farming, it's something he takes with surprising grace and confidence when he steps into the fields to help out. and with the confidence he exudes when doing his work, it only makes sense that daylight can notice others who are not as... certain about what their choices. huh. maybe he can help then...? ]
Hey there! Looks like you could use some help. [ daylight kneels down next to the person, trying to get a better look at their current work. ] What do you need a hand in?
iv; some good news. (far caster option.)
This is great! [ daylight's excitement and relief is palpable through the device. ] We're actually making some changes happen here, you guys! Did you hear that? Strangers! That's us!
I'm glad they're holding this Tribunal and I hope it goes well for everyone.
v;;; wildcard!!
[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. ]
niall was going to ride the carousel but...
Dressed in slacks, a plain button-up shirt, a checkered scarf, and a heavy coat, Niall eschews the trappings of religion for the planting festival. His people had long ago cut a faith for themselves away from whatever idiocy the Blood believed, but he sees no point in pinning one's hopes and desires on what can't be seen. Intangibles offer nothing useful to the world. Systems of belief are a placebo against reality.
Draega is the way it is because the landens refuse to accept the reality the Blood dictate to them.
As he wends his way through the streets toward the carousel, his eyes catch on a dark-haired, gold-eyed woman gowned in green and crowned with flowers. He wonders if Fayura hides behind that mask or if the woman is just another bitchy Hayllian witch who thinks gender and Jewel make her better than other people. His lips quirk in a pleasant smile. At least Fayura knows how to act humble. Deep down, he knows she possesses an infinite amount of hubris. She has to if she challenges the very nature of the world. But she's a good actress, and the day when he unmasks her for the Guilds to see can't come soon enough. A shame doing so will undoubtedly end in her death, but Niall has goals and purpose and Fayura isn't a part of them.
The carousel takes up the intersection of several roads, an edifice to the brilliance of his Tinkers, and Niall slows as he approaches to take in the sight of it. Working, it's an impressive construction, a testament to everything landens can do when they combine their strengths. Broken, it reminds him of the amphitheater behind the Ebon Council's buildings: a monument to failure. Niall doesn't like failure.
His eyes skip over the broken carousel to the source of the problem.
So this is the Stranger that has his Masters so befuddled and wound up. Niall heard about him and saw pictures on far-casters confiscated from students who needed to pay attention to the potent liquids they mixed lest they blow of their bleeding heads. A living machine. Perhaps equal parts organic and mechanical, perhaps not. Asking is rude, and Niall isn't Lam. He can wait to get that information.]
Well, it looks like the Guilds are going to need carousel insurance. And you look like you might need some help. [Niall's voice carries across the space. He wears a jovial smile as he approaches, parting the crowds like a knife through butter.
Crouching at Daylight's side, he frowns at the damage.] Might be better to just remove that seat entirely. I see Mari and Doriah decided to let you suffer on your own. [He shakes his head.] They never liked oversight much. Niall, Stranger. [He offers his hand.]
the carousel needs improvement if it can't handle day to be honest
one big boi + one little carousel
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i'm here for my anime drawing
be drawn like one of the anime girls, emil
that's the goal, honestly
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ii. can i get uhhhhh two you tried stars for the puppies?
someone help them...
they can't even help themselves
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II, SORRY THIS IS SO LATE.
it's cool! sorry i'm so late in replying!!
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[Lalli is bad at many things, but when it comes to throwing balls at piles of bottles... damn! He's a prodigy! A true athlete, even though his arms are little more than puny twigs. It all comes down to where you aim the ball, you see, and Lalli's aim... is pretty darn good. All of that practice with his rifle really paid off.
But does Lalli care about winning? Nah. Hearing people cheer for him is neat, he supposes, but it's also loud; he only lasts a few rounds before he decides to leave, and the man running the booth is all too happy to hand him a pile of prizes and send him along his merry way. Have a good night! Please don't come back!!
Still, while some of the prizes are neat, there's no doubt that he has too many. He can't buy more sweets when he has to carry all of this shit around, so... ah, hello, person he may or may not know! You thought you could just walk past him, but no, no—watch him thrust something out your way instead. Probably right into your chest? You're welcome, even though there's, like, no telling WHAT he's offering up here. Go wild...]
I don't want this? Take it.
[For the love of God, help him out here. He's drowning in cheap trinkets.]
ii. something stupid this way comes
[Hey, Draega, quick question? What the heck's a carousel? Lalli has neither seen nor heard of such a strange contraption; it's why he's here, standing adjacent to the line as he watches it spin around and around. How does it move... why does it move...
...It's suspicious and intriguing, so when the carousel slows to a crawl—well. Lalli moves right along with the line, ignoring the pointed comments from the people behind him as he follows all of these children onto this strange contraption. He just wants to poke around, okay! To determine what strange magic is powering this contraption, but he only makes it halfway around the thing before it starts riiiiight up again. Oh, dear. For someone who suffers from frequent motion sickness, this truly is the nightmare scenario.
a. Catch Lalli on the ride itself, crouched down on the floor—yes, the FLOOR—with his eyes squeezed shut. Can you will a carousel to stop? Well, he's obviously trying, because this moving ride is doing terrible things to his poor, poor stomach. Tell him that he's supposed to... sit on top of one of the animals....
b. Maybe you saw Lalli on the ride, but you didn't want to ruin his concentration? Good call. Watch him stagger over to a nearby bench and just... drape himself right over the back of it, head pointing straight down toward the ground as he lets out the quietest, most miserable groan of all time. He's dying? He's totally dying.]
iii. farming simulator
[Lalli isn't the type of person to volunteer for things; he is, however, used to following orders, so when he wanders by the fields and one of the more experienced farmers tells him to grab some supplies and get to work? ...Well. He's not thrilled about it, but he's not about to argue with anyone around him. He grew up in a small village? He lived on a military base? He knows that everyone has to pull their weight.
But that, uh, doesn't mean that he knows what he's doing. He eyes the people around him, trying to determine what, exactly, they're doing, before he decides to just... wing it. A handful of seeds go in one hole, yes? And then you pile the dirt hiiiiiiigh over them before dumping, like, a fourth of a bucket of water on top. Simple!
Okay, so it's obviously not simple. Watch him mess this whole thing up before offering to share a few helpful pointers? Or maybe you're just, you know, working right alongside him, humming that song that so many people seem to be humming. Is this something he should know? Is it somehow tied to the Queen's magic? It reminds him of... Finnish magic, in a way. His brand of magic, which is why he'll eventually turn to you and ask:]
...Why are you doing that?
iv. wildcard!
[throw anything my way and i'll roll with it! or hit me up over at
i.
He stares down at it for a few seconds, then looks up to see who's giving him such a terrible thing.
Oh.
This guy.
Without breaking eye contact, Haein takes the cheap trinket and slams it down against one of the nearby stalls. The head goes flying right off the dog, and then he drops what's left of the decapitated prize on the ground. ]
Thanks.
[ And then he walks off!! ]
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how many horror dogs does (i) come with
for horatio? at least three
bless but also how dare
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ren suzugamori
[Ren is both kind of clumsy and generally opposed to physical labour, and also figures that if that housekeeper lady yells at enough people, someone's going to hang the flags on the eaves. But for the sake of a festival, he's definitely not opposed to helping at all, and after the smell of bread starts coming out of the kitchens, those who come by or come in to help may hear some of the cooks murmuring among themselves in apparent surprise and confusion.
"I could have sworn I saw him put a whole potato in the mixing bowl--"
"He had a head of lettuce, what would you even be doing baking with a head of lettuce--"
They're all eying Ren with a somewhat wary air, as he pokes some perfectly normal-looking bread rolls that have just come out of the oven. Of course, since he hasn't baked with the equipment in this world before, he should probably make sure they're okay...]
Do you want to try one...? [He first asks over his shoulder to the cooks, who immediately take a single step back and hover almost protectively over their own trays. At that reaction, he pouts slightly and turns towards whoever's just entered instead, before pushing the tray a little towards them.]
Okay, what about you? They should be good unless I really misjudged the cooking time... [The buns look perfectly innocent and are still warm - and despite the reactions and murmurs of the other cooks, trying them will reveal them to be pleasantly fluffy and light, a good accompaniment to anything someone might like to serve with them.
Those who want to solve this mystery might also find a head of lettuce, a potato, and one or two other intact vegetables hiding innocently behind a cabinet door if they look hard enough. But that's probably not important.]
--
[b: festival shenanigans]
(i. carousel)
[Ren has always had a soft spot a mile wide for amusement park rides, and carousels are no exception. Even if it's not that exciting compared to what he has in his world, it's definitely something he wants to try out in this one as soon as he spots it.
It's not really any fun going on a carousel totally alone, though, so he hovers by the gate for a little while, watching the passing crowd until he spots someone who looks like a Stranger and pounces with enthusiasm in abundance, smiling widely.]
Come ride this with me, it's way more interesting to do it with someone else, right~?
[That is a smile and a level of innocent obliviousness that doesn't look likely to take no for an answer.]
(ii. games)
[Ren passes over a few of the festival games that are more about hand-eye coordination - he doesn't necessarily lack that, but it's a bit less his area of expertise than certain other kinds of game. It's not long before he finds what he's looking for, though, and that's something involving sleight of hand. A landen with a deck of cards and an apparent aptitude for trick shuffling receives coin from Blood and landen alike, with the promise that he'll double it if they can find where in the deck a chosen card ends up. And it sounds like there's a lot of winning going on on his end.
After a while, Ren slips into the seat after a well-off looking landen huffs away muttering something about cheating, and slides two silver onto the table with an airy smile. The landen man raises a brow, but smiles right back and sets the silver aside, shuffling his deck again.
It's only a few minutes before what remains of the crowd around the booth starts to press in a little, a few people watching in disbelief, and the landen man starting to look like he's been struck in the face.]
Third from the bottom... [Ren's tone is vague, petulant, and almost bored. The sound of shuffling starts up again, and is shortly interrupted.] Hey, don't hide them up your sleeve, isn't that just cheating?
[The man casts the card down on the table and shoves what's now a little mound of silver towards Ren before making a shooing gesture, and Ren actually sticks his tongue out at the guy before he takes the money, glancing off to the side to anyone who looks like they only just joined in the viewing.]
Do you want to play him instead? If you like people who cheat...
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[c: insert reaping and sowing joke here]
[Fayura's gift is...unusual, to be sure, and Ren would like a great deal to find out more about it. But for now, it seems as if it's the time to take advantage of it more than anything. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the muscle or the stamina to do anything like tilling or lugging around equipment.
But he can certainly be found near the farmhouses of those whose fields have been blessed, occasionally talking with the farmers and watching them point out certain areas and certain supplies. If anyone new comes to these farms to help out with the effort, Ren sweeps over immediately with a small vessel brimming with seeds, a trowel, and a bright smile on his face.]
Are you here to help out? There's lots of people in the fields right now, and we don't want to waste any space or any seeds, so I've been showing people where to go...
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[d: wildcard]
[[For anything else, feel free to hit me up on the OOC plotting post or at
b-i
Except Caleb. He's grateful for that, but it's also Caleb. Excessive fun makes him dry heave.
Fortunately, he has made enough connections here that his wistful staring is rewarded with someone else sharing his curiosity and providing a welcome distraction. His face goes from pained nostalgia to deep delight the second Ren enters into his space.]
Does it just go in a circle? I've been trying to figure it out.
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[ Living a good chunk of his life on his own quickly taught Haein how to cook. He'd never be caught dead bragging about it or even show it off, but when it comes down to it, he can get food done. But the thing about having been on his own for all those years is that he's used to cooking for one (two at most!), so when he gets shoved into bread baking duty to help make bread for All The Party Goers Ever, it's kind of an understatement to say he's a bit overwhelmed.
He takes the first break he can get, slipping out of the kitchen while looking like a complete mess. Look, he can bake, but not with finesse and there may have been a few accidents. There's flour in his hair, on his face, all over his hands, on the front of his clothes, and he smells pleasantly like baked goods! Too bad there's nothing pleasant about the tired scowl on his face as he stares down at the mess that he has become.
So... this is his life now. A flour person. A person made wholly of flour.
If you walk by while he's brushing and shaking all this flour off, you, too, can become a flour person by walking through this cloud of flour. ]
II. HOPE BLOOMS ETERNAL, let us no longer get this bread.
[ Haein's not really one for festivities, and so he sticks to the outskirts of things. The light shows are okay, the costumes are lame, the games are ehh, and he's too old for the carousel.
Wow, Haein, truly a killer of fun.
At least there's food... Oh wait. It's a lot of bread and he's sick of looking at bread after the morning he's had and all the baking that went along with it. Meats it is, then. Only after hearing about animals dying of sickness and their meat becoming inedible, he's more than a little wary as he eyes the selection. It looks fine for the most part, but... ]
Is this safe to eat?
[ Rather than flag down the people running the stall, he turns to the person nearest him to ask. Why go through the effort of catching the attention of someone who knows what the meat is like when he can have a convenient presence nearby to bother? ]
III. SOWING THE FUTURE, drowning the future?
[ So... planting. Planting. Hm.
Haein was born in a city, raised in a city, and assumes he will die in a city. As the son of a mountain god, he's probably got a lot to offer to nature! Heck, sometimes he heals his mom's plants when they start to look a little brown around the edges, but that's about all the experience he has with plants.
Planting seeds seems easy enough to do? It's just... sticking some seeds into the earth and... watering... it...? But Queen Fayura already did some watering with her weird blood/water mix. Is adding even more water going to drown the seeds?
Holy shit, this gets even more complicated with magical properties involved. Help him, you!! ]
I'm not going to kill it by adding more water, am I?
IV. WILDCARD!
( i wasn't going to top level but then i caved! if you'd like something else, hit me with it! or i'll hit you with it just let me know!! )
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From my understanding a little more won't harm them.
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Bucky Barnes
Bucky is not, by any means, a decorator; he's got neither the skill nor the temperament for it. What he does have is strength to spare, and trading off decorating for construction seems fair and acceptable both. Of course that leads to a different kind of problem, namely the assemblage of boards, nails and canvas with no instructions. Strong and capable he is; a carpenter he is not.
Fortunately, he's not alone in meeting this challenge. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing certainly remains to be seen.
Festival Frolicking;
Bucky had agreed to be Sansa's escort to the festival, and some of his time is spent at her side. But not all of it certainly; this kind of celebration is exactly the kind of event that makes an ambush easy: busy and crowded, with plenty of opportunities for an attacker to take advantage. Certainly he has in past missions, and it's perhaps that experience that has him on guard now.
For the most part he keeps to the edges of the crowds, dressed in long sleeves and plain gloves to hide the metal of his arm. It's twofold, not only to hide the appendage from curious eyes but also to prevent the light from reflecting off of it and drawing attention. He keeps his Jewel hidden inside his clothing as well. With observation he can mimic the mannerisms of the locals and imitate their accent well enough to blend in — and with blending in there's the hope of gaining some more information about this place and its apparent power struggles.
Seed Sowing;
Again they're expected to work, and again he has no problem doing so. It's a part of accepting the invitation to stay in the palace, is it not? And the concern of food is, well, a concern for someone who had a heightened metabolism before this Jewel nonsense. It's only gotten worse since coming here so a little hard work with the goal of keeping people fed certainly isn't going to be met with argument from him. And while the actual ceremony is unfamiliar the idea of it certainly makes sense enough: blessings and hope for a good growing season now, likely to be followed by complementary harvest blessings in the fall.
The blood thing has him a little disturbed though — not out of squeamishness, but more out of a contemplation of the cocktail swimming around in his own blood — and thoughts thereof occupy most of his attention as he works the plow through the soil. It's enough to have him distracted, only catching the second half of what the person opposite him just said. "I'm sorry, what?"
Training Teamup;
Morning training is an excellent way to start the day. Training at any time of the day would be fine with him actually; it feels a lot more productive than a lot of other things he could be doing, and the reality of the situation is that he has this Jewel now, and it has an effect on him and his abilities. Exploring the limits of that effect is more than just prudent; to not know could be deadly. Or he could be reading far too much into it, and far too much into his purpose here, however that may be defined.
Whatever the case, he is on the practice fields in the morning, and usually early enough to get a good run in before the formal session begins. As a sparring partner he'll pair against anyone regardless of skill level, even if it means he has to rein himself in more than he'd like. "Again. Ready?"
Alliterative Alternative;
...it was either that or "whatever wildcard," to be honest. If you have another idea certainly feel free to drop me a starter or hit me up via PM or at
Training
However since the new Strangers arrived, he's noticed that the pre-morning sessions are no longer entirely alone, and the new arrival joins in occasionally, apparently polite enough not to ask why exactly Jonathan requires a training session before everyone else, when it is still dark with no hint of sunlight in the sky.
Their jewels match, and Jonathan is somewhat surprised how much he enjoys the chance to spar against someone other than Allairavar who he doesn't need to be as careful around. All the same, he tries to keep his other abilities to a minimum... at least until he's surprised by a heavy blow that knocks him off-balance and he jumps a good several feet backwards in a swirl of shadow instinctively.
"Apologies," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to check he isn't bleeding. "You rather took me by surprise."
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[Differently from some others Takame got to work as soon as he was called, scurrying around the residence with an armful of decorations, banners, and other party favors to get them where they needed to go. With most native residents he came across, more was asked of him, which he accepted with no sign of irritation or back talk otherwise. Every request for assistance was answered with his characteristic “of course”, “it will be done”, “understood”.
When his hands were too full to carry anything more, they began to hang what they needed put up from his horns and hair tail and yet still he didn't complain, performing his duty with diligence even if he can't entirely see where he's going and bumps shoulders with someone as a result.]
Apologies...
[He's being taken advantage of a bit, for sure. But maybe the one he bumped could offer a helping hand to this exorbitantly decorated Au Ra? Or scold him for bumping. Or heck, maybe YOU'RE the one taking advantage.]
ii. blooming hope brings out allergies to fun
[Hints of apprehension were painted across Takame's face despite the jovial atmosphere. From his peripheral vision he's spotted one too many brazen muter toting landens. Breakers as well though he had less right to preach being never too far from his own weapon.
Though that was heavy on his mind, the scenery and hope the festival brought in was a good change of pace, if somewhat intimidating. He was no stranger to festivals, but often when he attended them he was pulled into what his sister thought the most fun, bouncing erratically between booths and making him try one of every food. When those memories flashed into his mind one might find a rare smile come onto his face. Besides that he'll likely be standing to the sidelines of a game both, a food stall or that rotating apparatus with the fake animals, watching others partake of the festivities rather than getting involved himself.]
iii. green something
[He was out of his element. One of his earliest memories was residing in a village known for its rice. But he had no experience himself in tending crops and it showed as he sought approval from whomever was beside him at the time he had two saplings set too close to one another. He would learn, try. It may pave the way for something he may find a talent in.
On another day he may be providing extra muscle work for further land in need of plowing. Never the most talkative person, but ever reliable even through fatigue that made itself gradually more apparent as the day winded down and he showed no sign of stopping. Give him a towel and tell him to take five?]
iv. wild card
[HIT ME. my plurk is @ bonpuns.]
party planning
Well, until the witch comes in with another batch of decorations and a determined scowl on her face. She approaches Takame first, and Verim, kind soul that he is, intervenes. ]
Lady Siira, I believe the cook was looking for you earlier and wanted your opinion on how best to coordinate the trays for the food with the decor. [ The Lady in question eyes him with a gaze filled with suspicion compared to Verim expression of perfect innocence. She huffs and leaves without issuing them further orders.
It is then that Verim groans and flops into the nearest chair, gesturing for Takame to do the same. ] I've bought us ten minutes at best. Make use of them.
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party planning!
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ii!
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rollerblades into #3 fifteen minutes late with starbucks
orders a coffee, they spell his name tacomayme. but no it's okk
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( prompt ii.)
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[ At some point in all of the rush to get this party kicked off properly a mass of garlands were dumped directly into Calvin's arms, and he was told to put them in the right spot. The problem is that this legendary right spot was not, at any point, shown to him.
He has absolutely no idea where these decorations are supposed to go, and while hanging them up in the wrong spot isn't a big deal, and they can always be taken down and replaced, Calvin is still frozen in spot looking like deer caught in headlights as he glances wildly around himself. It's not clear if he thinks that an answer will magically manifest out of thin air, but it is clear that Calvin is not about to take any proactive steps here without a push. ]
II. HOPE BLOOMS ETERNAL
a. enjoying the festivities
[ It feels weird to be trying to have fun while-- Well, while being stuck in a magical world in the middle of dying. It's something he's trying really hard not to think about right now as he tosses a ball at a cluster of bottles... only to miss entirely and have the ball smack loudly into the wooden backboard behind the bottles. ]
Fuck--yy... er...
[ The curse dies in his throat as a family with young children in tow walk behind him. He clears his throat and looks off to the side, hoping that none of that was heard, and if it was that cursing is a casual and accepted thing here. ]
b. really enjoying the festivities
[ It's the last night of the actual festivities part of this festival, and Calvin has spent it the way he spends most parties... finding which vendors actually sell alcohol and slowly working his way into a proper drunk as the day has gone on. Currently he's found himself by the race track, where this idiot has found himself a unicycle that he's attempting to hold up as he tries to figure out how ot get on.
This would be a bad idea for someone like Calvin sober. There's no way he's not going to injure himself right now. ]
III. SOWING THE FUTURE
[ Farming sure is...
It just sure is.
Calvin's back to where he was with party planning, having absolutely no idea at all what he's supposed to be doing with any of this. At least he's a little less shell shocked and frozen, but he's kneeling in the dirt digging little holes while surreptitiously glancing around to see what other people are doing. He feels like a kid trying to cheat off of his classmates at school. ]
ii-a
Dude, you have so much to expand your vocabulary with! Think of new ways to express yourself, right? Like, fiddlesticks! Or oh bananas, or corn nuts, or my favorite, poo on a stick!
[ ... yes. those are all legit curse word alternatives, at least according to leo valdez. ]
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[Mordred can be found standing around, with an arm full of banners that someone handed to her, a confused expression on her face. The person who handed to them is long gone, but she's still trying to catch up with what happened. Her? Decorate? That's not really something a knight does, but it's not like she can't do it, it's just weird and unfamiliar.
And the hell if she's doing it alone, if she spots anybody making eye contact with her, they can expect her to yell and try and wave them over (easier said than done with her arms full).]
Hey, don't just stand there, get over here and help me with this!
[B – Hope Blooms Eternal]
[And once the festival's underway Mordred's going to be all over the place, but mostly over by the food stalls. There, she's busy alternating between stuffing her face and checking to see how much money she has left. She probably shouldn't spend everything, but even with scarcity there's a lot to try and she hasn't had some of this. Or what that booth's serving. So her wallet is fighting a losing battle here.
Besides attempting to eat her own weight in food (and possibly coming close to succeeding), Mordred's also going to stop and watch the light show, thrilled with seeing the projections. She's never seen anything really like that, and if she has, not for entertainment purposes, so it's nice to just stop and see something fun like this every now and then.]
[C – Patrolling]
[It's not all fun and games though, after talking with Allairavar, Mordred will split time between enjoying the festival and patrolling. She's doing her part to make sure the festival stays festive and doesn't turn to crap like...well, like a lot of things that have happened since the Strangers got here. She doesn't mind fighting, but this is nice, and she doesn't want some jerk ruining it.
Sure, she definitely stands out since she's decided to patrol in her armor, but she hopes that acts as some sort of deterrent. Plus the helmet does a good job of making it hard to tell who she's keeping an eye on (or at least that's her thoughts on it). But she's here and watching...which hasn't really worked out too well for stopping problems, but an attempt's being made.]
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I'll tell my Mother on you! [ The landen boy threatens. It's pretty clear that the young pup is hoping his indignation will spare him the humiliation of Allairavar actually finding the boy's mother. ]
Yes, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to know that you and your friends tried to set of stink bombs near girls' dance lessons. [ The boy falls sullen and silent. Heaving a great and put upon sigh, Allairavar looks at Mordred. ] Have you had any frantic mothers asking about their missing and mischievous sons?
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A!
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[For the most part, Horatio is becoming accustomed to the mechanical. Even the vast majority of other Strangers, after all, seemed perfectly comfortable with the
obvious black magicscientific marvels everyone here treated as given. Now and then, something feels startling. Now and then, there's something so unusual it demands to be taken apart and studied (although it never seems like the polite tack to take, so it never truly comes to fruition).The light show at the festival, though.
It captures something usually buried deep under the last few years of clenching down on whatever felt soft or organic in his chest. It sends a thrill through his spine, just as the flying fish of his near-to-last crossing had done for a few glimmering seconds in the midst of the worst years (thus far) of his life.
He'll be dreadfully easy to sneak up on while he gapes quietly at the flashing shapes being scrawled effortlessly across the sky. Mind you don't startle him into dropping the nightmare he's holding.]
ii. attention to orders, now
[Breaking routine is difficult. Breaking routine for difficult work and the chance of wrecking one's own body is much easier.
Horatio hadn't ever been properly raised for farming, but the work isn't entirely unfamiliar. More delicate and complicated matters his father attended to required kicking him out to wander the odd marshy fields, clinging to what little useful things the farmers along the Romney were willing to trust to thin shoulders and childish hands. Still, the impulse to throw himself into hard labour is more than likely to outweigh any lack of technical expertise.
The years at sea haven't fully gotten rid of a certain reediness in Horatio's generally lanky frame, and the time on less than half-pay hadn't exactly done much to keep him looking like much more than a long skeleton. He trusts the strength of his own arms all the same, and he knows how much more strain his shoulders can bear now than when he was a boy.
So it's easy to fall into the impulse to actually approach anyone who seems to be struggling with the hard morning's labour, hesitant but already reaching for whatever looks heavy.] --let me?
iii. kicking Jack Rogers
[Since an actual genius and non-pariah explained them to him, Horatio has carefully been bleeding time listening to the Far-caster into his routine. Today, it's more than paid off.
Because today? The news is fascinating.
The lawful judgement of one's peers is an old concept where he comes from, but he remembers the prickling newness of the mental conversation that had recently wrapped through their minds. It puts a strange sensation in his spine, to know that the confusing murmur had been attended to--had been picked through carefully and made into something sensible by the sitting monarch here as it had been in the time of the Magna Carter in his own world.
There's something particularly pensive on the edge of his expression as he turns down the shift to the weather--and nearly turns into whoever hadn't expected him to move as abruptly and inattentively as he just had.]
iv. wildcard
[You can catch Horatio up before training, devoting himself wholeheartedly to training, attempting to avoid becoming caught in any social situations during most of the rest of the day, or hiding in a corner with a book or pack of cards at night--or whatever else we've discussed and I've forgotten in a fit of sleepiness! Feel free to hit me up on pm or plurk!]
ii
She's out in the field, planting by her lonesome. Plowing and hauling water and shoveling dirt without a moment's rest. Others are taking turns with each other, shouldering part of the burden so they can all bask in the reward. But Raya doesn't seem to have any of that help as she plants and grunts and moves from one carefully planted mount to the next.
When Horatio stops her from approaching the plow, she lifts up the rim of her hat to wipes the sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand.]
Hn. A Stranger going to do some actual hard work? None of that Bleeder bullshit?
[Well, perhaps it's not so much that no one is helping her, as much as certain people might be avoiding her.]
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iii kicking Jack Rogers
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( prompt i. ) / that's a rip in chat for horatio
https://tinyurl.com/y2s4auep
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Lucas Baker
[Pfff, ain't that just a kick in the head.
You start on a new routine of waking up after years spent soaking in the air comin' off of a boggy swamp and rotted-to-shit wood in a pretty little fantasy land after having signed a little so-to-speak contract making it like you're some kinda precious, valuable asset, you're letting your eyes adjust to the proverbial light and letting your skin warm up to the heat of the proverbial sun, you head down to see if you can make your way to the kitchen to swipe yourself a quick breakfast like you're a little boy again, and theeeeen ya got people screamin' in your face to do this, do that -- pff, geez...!
He took that with a li'l of a reeling back! Hands up! An open-jawed deer-in-the-headlights look 'fore he cackled, crowed out "You make guests do your decoratin' around here -- ?!"
Couple long, dipping "tiptoeing" steps back like a reversed stork - as she advanced a couple paces, herself, before - whoop, there she was pivoting after another member of the staff...!
Aaand that's where Lucas is right now! Mouthing an "oooooh...?" as he cranes after her just a tad, does he... have an opening now? Heeee believes he does...!
A turn to sloooooow pivot, back hunched. That stork has now, evidently, crossbred with a vulture, but here he is, craning out one more step, and another, head still turned back over his shoulder to watch the housekeeper, aaaand - ]
WHAOH -- !
[A hard-eyed duck against a swingin' object! Stumbling-to-pivoting back to roll into a shuffle backwards...! Hands still up, ghost-faced...!
Sorry to get into the way of your carryin' supplies, whoever you are!
That's what happens when a guy don't look where the fuck he's going.]
B. Hope Blooms Eternal.
[Well. Out on the grounds after all o' the gettin'-ready hubbub has fizzled away...
...Lucas is everywhere. Freakin' everywhere. Hood up like he can't goddamn handle the sun, or thinks it's gonna turn him into some kind of invisible spooky ghost or some stupid damn thing like that, but it's hard to blend in between that and having the energy of a coked-up rat.
C'moooon, it's been ages since he's gotten to run wild in an environment that's actually thrumming with energy or, for that matter, been to a bona fide celebration! Far as he's concerned, today, the whole place is his fairground!
You may find him loitering leaning against or by one of the food booths! One hand holdin' a just-bitten-piece of something or other as he nods wide-eyed - high-"thoughtfully" hums a curious approval, brow lifted as he chews on away - other hand holding pieces of about three different other things!
You may find him at one o' the game booths, biting in the grin of a challenge accepted 'fore he wiiiinds up for a pitch, throws a ball with a little "enh -- !"-grunt, grumblin' out a huff on a miss or lightly-pumping both fists with a li'l hoot of a "haWOO -- !" as he reels back his momentum a couple of steps!
Hell, you may find him on the frickin' carousel, sittin' sideways on one of the horses, hand grippin' the pole, lookin' around wide-eyed as if he's trippin' fucking balls at the lights that abound...! Hee - fuckin' like being a boy and at some bygone trip to the circus again!
Either way, well. Someone's clearly having fun!]
C. Wildcard!
[Have an idea of your own, or would you like an additional prompt for runnin' into Lucas? Feel free to drop whatever you've got/hit me up to hash something out here or on Plurk at
Part Planning
If you're trying to sneak away - [ Like Lucas did out of morning training and the gaze Allairavar bends on the man tells Lucas that his lack of presence has been noted. ] - you'll only make it worse for you once she locates you.
[ A beat and then: ]
And she will locate you.
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b! sorry i'm late af
PFF, AS IF I HAVEN'T ALSO BEEN BEHIND SCHEDULE RE: TAGS UNTIL TONIGHT - YOU'RE CHILL!
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Piper McLean
[ There is something wonderful about seeing Draega put on its party clothes and put aside old hatreds for long enough to mingle about and have a good time. The change in the emotional atmosphere does Piper good, and she welcomes the chance to lose herself in the crowd.
You can see her -- 1) Doing her best to blend in with her landen-made clothes, laughing as she tries to throw a ring over bottles. 2) Doing a double-take at a mother earth costume, a strange expression of fear and disgust crossing her face before she literally shakes it off. 3) Striking a deal with a bakery booth -- she’ll work and sell for the day for fair pay and a piece of that chocolate cake. (It’s a good deal for the baker; her smile gets a line going, and if there’s a lull it may be turned on you. “Hey, can I interest you in some fresh bread?”) 4) On her break, standing on line at the carousel and running into a bit of trouble with a group of young landen men, armed prominently with a Muter, because teenage boys can share certain unfortunate common characteristics between worlds when it comes to a beautiful girl on her own. (“You don't want to ride that carousel! I can take you on a real ride here.”) ]
B. Planting Seeds
[ Queen Fayura’s song remains in Piper’s head long after the ceremony. (Blood being spilled on the land to awaken the earth was… a frighteningly familiar thing, but this, this was different. Still, if anyone is looking at Piper during the ceremony, she’s a lot more tense and a little bit more pale than normal.)
It’s not like Piper knows how to plant, but she’s willing to help. Vegetables are kind of the staple of her diet, so she’s invested in seeing this turn out well. She’ll grab a hat, dig holes, plant seeds… and fetch and carry water to other people out in the field. ]
C. Wildcard
[ Got something in mind? Throw it at me or hit me up to plan it out! ]
A-2
[Mordred's not patrolling at the moment, but she noticed that weird expression change after Piper passed by the earth-mother. And has no real problems with asking someone she hasn't met before if something happened.]
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B.
more tl;dr from me, to no one's shock =/
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A-4
feel free to take the NPCs too if you like!
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clarke griffin
[clarke doesn't have too much experience with party planning or even attending parties in general because it was one of the many things they couldn't afford to indulge in while on the ground.
it was a never ending fight for their survival and making sure her people were safe that in comparison, all of this felt very strange to her. it was weird so something so normal made her feel so out of her element but she gets roped into helping out as well.
a ) clarke can be found working on putting up the banners and various others decorations for the festival and at some point she even tries to start crafting her own handmade additions if you happen to catch her in the middle of drawing.
b ) later in the the day, she gets called into the kitchen to help with the baking despite her own protests that they would be better off asking someone else for this particular task. clarke tries really hard to follow the recipe and make she has the ingredients right but let's just say this turns into a bit of a disaster for clarke with how much of a mess she ends up making. someone please help her?] Well that didn't go as planned.
ii. HOPE BLOOMS ETERNAL;
[finally it was time for the festival that they had all worked to ensure all the preparations were finished for in time. clarke has never been to something like this in her life so over the course of the next several days, she can't help but marvel at the lively atmosphere of it all. she walks around just looking at the various booths with games she had never seen before] There really is a lot of variety with these games, huh?
iii. SOWING THE FUTURE;
[the ritual itself was really weird and something clarke can't make sense of either as she watches the queen offer her blood to the ground. it seemed to be another thing she didn't understand about this place but she keeps those thoughts to herself for the time being. she wasn't one for planting anything, that was more of monty's area of expertise from being on farm station but she still wants to offers to help either way. she heads over to one of the fields, approaching someone already in the middle of planting in the fields] Hey. Do you need another hand with that?
iv. WILDCARD;
[choose your own adventure! i am open to any other scenarios. or hit me up @
ii
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Tyrion is still trying to decide whether this is all some strange and absurdly protracted dream or - impossibly - even stranger reality when he finds himself abruptly halfway buried under a pile of banners by an imposing red-haired woman with a voice more commanding than half the nobles he could name. And while he might later claim that it's the novelty of the increasingly bizarre situation in which he's found himself mired that keeps him from protesting, in truth it owes more to the fact that he suspects the attempt would only net him a larger pile of fabric, not anything like answers or a reprieve.
And so it is that not yet half an hour past waking he finds himself sorting through the strange banners in a half-formed attempt to figuer out where, precisely, they're supposed to go, and studying the symbols with an air of some puzzlement. They're not quite like any heraldry he's accustomed to, but they must represent some group or concept, else what's the point?
"Do you know what these mean?" he asks of the nearest person who doesn't appear to be equipped with a flying list and a near-murderous amount of fabric.
ii. hope blooms eternal
a) His first thought upon spying the carousel is, Daenerys would adore this. Not the carousel itself - though he suspects his queen would be delighted by strange machine in its own right - but the dragons. They're magnificent, rising and falling in a gentle simulation of flight, and no less so are the other creatures, some familiar and others utterly alien to his Westerosi sensibilities.
"How do they keep it moving?" he wonders aloud, and though he's not exactly expecting an answer, it's at least an invitation to conversation. Or to convince him to take a ride in the interest of getting a closer look. (It won't take much convincing.)
b) The novelty of strange machines and stranger light displays is not a thing that is likely to wear off for quite some time, but eventually Tyrion is able to tear himself away from the fascinating constructs to explore what the rest of the festival has to offer. Which, given his lack of both athletic prowess and funds to gamble with, leans heavily towards food stalls and wine sellers, primarily the latter. That it gives him a chance to spot the banners that had plagued his introduction to this bizarre world and make note of both the relative popularity of the types and who tends to associate with which symbol is certainly not an accident. It's just not the only goal.
iii. sowing the future
Though Tyrion is not particularly suited for hard labour - and not remotely suited for farming, owing to a complete and utter lack of familiarity with it on anything but the most theoretical basis - he is, even after only half a week, aware of the unusual position of his cohort, and of the importance of ensuring they don't wear out their welcome before there's even a chance to keep the bargain they'd struck with the local royalty.
That awareness doesn't negate the aforementioned lack of suitability, however, and so while he can be found out in the planting fields, squinting a little against the sunlight, he plays a purely auxiliary role. There are people needed to help organize the tools and seeds, make sure there's water for both the people and the plants, and direct those filtering in from other parts of the field or from the city itself towards the next task that needs tending to.
ii a
Sansa herself hasn't yet. She's thought about it but she hasn't expressed it to her escort or any of her other acquaintances she's seen here at the festival. When she spots Tyrion from the corner of her eye, she decides to draw close to him and speak a bit.
"It's truly a wonder, Lord Tyrion," she says softly, just able to be heard over the din of celebration. "I just do not know if I trust myself to be able to ride it without being afraid. Doing a new thing is always a bit daunting."
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