agentlelog | event: a gentle festival

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event: a gentle festival

we're all just working pieces trying to fit somewhere
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.

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—

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[ The landen and Blood pay Verim and Piper little attention. The few that do notice don't linger on the sight except for one tiny group of people that seem eager to keep to themselves. Some of them were Jewels (none darker than Tiger Eye), some do not, and yet they stay together and away from everyone else. As they watch Verim and Piper walk, their gazes are guarded, cautious, and assessing, with the latter focused on Piper, the way one might try to gauge the danger of a particular situation.

Verim notices, but the looks do not seem to trouble him at all. ]

A revolution? Not exactly. [ He flashes a brief smile. ] Among the Blood, the Ebon Council held political power at the time, but even if they managed to rally all of the Blood in Draega to stop Fayura, they couldn't have survived against me alone, much less me, Allairavar, Loren, and those who became a part of Fayura's First Circle. Once her First Circle was established, they had no choice but accept her rule or leave the city.

[ He does feel the tension in Piper lessen and in return Verim makes it a point to keep his body between her and the procession, acting as a physical shield against the sight. ]

[ She does better when she's moving. It's better, too, when she doesn't have the ceremony prodding at recent memories. But she doesn't miss the speculative glances in their direction - as always, receiving attention makes her uncomfortable, but it's a pretty easy jump to discern that they're not as much interested in her as they are in her proximity to Verim, the Gray-Jeweled Warlord Prince of Draega. He'd made his name here long before Fayura had arrived.

And he knew it, so casually stating: they couldn't have survived against me.

Piper doesn't feel the slightest bit threatened by Verim, and she lifts her chin a little when one of the Blood's gaze lingers on her overlong. She's seen his memories, and she is not ashamed to be walking with him or giving whatever tentative strands of loyalty she feels in this place to Fayura and her court, based on her interactions with them so far. If the Blood looking for any other reason - they can screw themselves, frankly. ]

And they stayed, huh?

[ She's not the biggest fan of people being thrown out of their homes, as that presses on some very specific cultural buttons, but... ugh, honestly, this whole world was so different and... brutal. ]

As hostile as Draega can be, the lands past it are worse. There isn't much to found and chances are you'll end up fighting with the mercenaries over anything you do find. [ The dark growl underscoring his words suggests the gravity of running into those same mercenaries. His gaze flicks the group of Blood and landens that had been cautiously watching the Queen and Verim and Piper. One man stands on the edge, missing an arm and bearing scars that cover most of the left half of his face. ]

Besides, [ He shrugs lightly. ] as much as Grejor and some of the others may not want to admit it, they know Blood society cannot function without a good Queen. Though I doubt many of them realize or appreciate why. Nor could they argue with it when some things started to get better.

[ Glancing at Piper, Verim smiles lightly. ] Those people over there? The ones keeping themselves away from most everyone else, [ He nods to the group containing the man with the missing limb. ] they're just trying to figure out if you walking with me means they can trust you. They're... skittish around strangers.

[ Piper considers that for a moment, her gaze drifting to the horizon. Mercenaries, huh? After a moment: ] It must be very difficult for them to go from being in charge to learning how to navigate with a whole new power structure, especially since... well, you'd been here for centuries and you'd never stepped up before, right? [ No, from every thing she'd understood about Verim, he'd been looking after those who he deemed his, but she'd received zero impression in his memories or in his demeanor that he'd sought power for his own sake. Instead, it had all been about helping Fayura, it had to be. ] No wonder Gre - Prince Grejor looks like he's sucking a lemon every time I've seen him.

[ As Verim references the group of Blood and landen standing alone, Piper looks up at him and then over to them. She remembers, then, that when she'd seen Verim before this he'd been with people who seemed more outcast than not. Two and two together meant... still... ] ...why would you walking with me mean they could trust me?

[ It was just a walk? ]

Edited 2019-04-07 22:37 (UTC)

Ah, but you see, I was an bastard orphan who grew up in the slums of Draega, living with all the other Blood and landen that the Guilds and the Council couldn't be bothered to acknowledge as existing. [ His grin is sharp, but amused rather than bitter. Yet, despite the lightness of his words, there's something like pain the lingers beneath them. ] I didn't matter to the aristos until I walked out of my Birthright Ceremony wearing the Red. [ In the course of a single night, Verim outranked all of them in terms of power. ] Then the only thing they wanted from me was my power backing theirs.

As for them, [ Verim nods politely to the man with one arm who seems to take that as a gentle reminder that he should stop the others from staring too much. ] they think that if I escort you, then you must be the sort of person that they could maybe trust, because I never offer escort, casual or serious, to someone that I don't at least hold in some kind of regard. [ A wink follows, friendly and light. ] They don't know what to think of the Strangers and they don't like surprise changes in the order of things.

[ Piper knew, really well, what it meant to be ignored by the people who were supposed to take care of you until you were useful. She'd never even known that her mother was alive, never even known what she was, what her power was, until Aphrodite had need of it. What kind of goddess of love abandoned her children and the man she claimed to care for? Piper knew her mother's reasons. They just didn't make her feel any better. So she was just trying to move on, to forget about the past and focus on the present.

And even though she knew too well what it was like to be viewed as an object, Piper knew that she couldn't fully compare herself with Verim. She'd been a child of privilege; Tristin McLean had made it so he'd hardly ever seen his daughter in his efforts to distance himself and her from the poverty of his childhood. Piper had never had hunger as a constant companion. She told herself not to compare, but she couldn't help saying: ] I know what it's like to only be seen for what you can do for someone. It sucks.

[ And let Verim think she was talking about the way she looked - that was true too. There was a reason she went out of her way to dress loosely, chopped her hair unevenly. She was her mother's daughter. The only people who'd ever truly seen her for her... well, the first had been Jason and Leo. What must it have meant to Verim, to finally not only have found the queen he was hardwired to serve, but to be seen for himself when he'd had to endure hundreds of years of being an object?

Piper grows a little flustered at Verim's slightly-more-obvious-than-implied compliment, there are hints of a blush, a slight movement of her shoulders curling in on themselves for a moment before she huffs a light laugh and opens up, bold and a little mischievous. ] Well I don't go on walks with just anyone either, you know. [ ...and that was also very true. ] And I get how a bunch of people who have jewels but don't even know the rules, let alone follow them, could make some people very nervous. If they want to get to know the Strangers, they should talk to some of us. They can come find me, if they like.

[ She doesn't want to freak them out and approach them when her jewel outranks theirs and it's clear that they have cause to be jumpy. ]

It can. [ He agrees without hesitation.] But I was also strong enough that they kept their asking to polite words and long intervals.

[ The aristos and Guilds had been content to ignore Verim and he'd felt the same for better or worse. The subject isn't one on which he lingers, turning his thoughts from the past to the present instead. He studies Piper with a keen but easy gaze. He smiles a little canting his head to the side. ]

And sometimes it's easier to wear a mask in the hope you might not be seen at all, mmm?

[ He leaves the comment there - a clear invitation for Piper to say more on that topic if she wishes, or to set it aside. ]

For them, [ Verim's voice sobers for a moment. ] it's different. Those are people who were ground brutally under the heels of others and then forgotten about by nearly everyone. A change of any kind usually means bad things in their eyes. So, to have all of you here and helping is confusing to say the least and terrifyingly hopeful at the most.

[ At Verim's question, Piper looks up and gives him a long glance with her unusual eyes, their colors colliding from dark green to gray blue. It's not a threatened feeling, to have him make a guess at what she's in the habit of doing, to be marked enough by him that he'd even care to make such a guess, but it's certainly not a comfortable one either. After a moment, she decides it's more an observation than an invitation - what could she say, anyway? - and she decides to let it slide. She doesn't feel opposed to sharing things with Verim; she's been very private about her past and her nature in Draega so far, but he's earned a little bit of her trust.

Somehow, she doesn't think that Verim tried to hide.

Terrifyingly hopeful? Her gaze flickers to them, studying them. She has a heart for people who have been pushed to the side - it's something far too familiar to her - and she subconsciously leans toward them before she goes to catch herself, wanting to go talk to them and somehow make things better. Instead, she remembers their faces. ]

And... it can't be much better that things are so up in the air right now. Or are all these fires a normal thing for Draega?

No, not at all normal, but not entirely unexpected in a way. [ Verim reaches up, scratching his chin with a sigh. ] Bringing all of you here had to have an effect. Not the one I would have wanted, but not one that surprised me.

[ And the answer seems like a true one. There's not hesitance in Verim's words, only an undercurrent of both anger and sadness.]

These are old wounds, and I can't say if they will ever be healed.

[ A little dryly: ] People scrambling around to see how best they can use us, huh?

[ As an excuse to gain more, or to attack... but from her limited experience and her research, Verim's right. All of Draega is dry tinder. Piper is only relieved they've been able to put out the fires so far. ]

...I know a little something about old wounds too. And I think you're right. Some things can't be healed. [ Her people, her father's people, would never be healed from what had been done to them. ] There are some things it's important to remember. But that doesn't have to stop people from working together.

[ Especially if there's a common interest. Or a common foe. Like hunger. (Or worse.

And she wonders, with sudden cynicism, if that is the role the Strangers are meant to fulfill - be the common enemy. But she doesn't believe it to be true and dismisses the thought.) She looks up at Verim with a quick smile instead. ] And they are today, aren't they?

Today, they are. [ Verim replies with a genuine smile that lacks the edge of a man expecting a knife to fall. ] The efforts of all of you are in large part to thank for that.

And with a bit of good fortune, this fall will yield enough harvest to ease tension further in the coming year. [ Verim hedges such a hope with a slight shrug. Belief could be a powerful thing, and also powerfully disappointing. ]

I do hope that you all see good things in Draega too.

[ Um. Good things in Draega...

People were people. They were ugly and beautiful and caring and callous and horrible and human. There was potential for beauty here, potential for love... but if you asked Piper to point out 'three good things in Draega,' right now her list would be short... one or two, at least.

And she's already brought out the 'working together against a common foe' bit...

Her expression turns a bit impish. ]

Good things like what?

[ Go on, Verim. List your three. ]

[ Verim flashes a look that could be feigned or mock surprise. It is hard to tell until he clutches one hand over his heart in what is definitely a dramatic representation of mock pain. ]

You wound me, lady.

[ He grins. ]

Good things like that - [ He gestures to a group of boys trailing behind Allairavar and Loren who do their damnedest to look just as imposing and serious as Steward and Master of the Guard all while hiding sporadic laughter behind their hands. ] And that - [ His hand sweeps towards a young man who is red in the face and blustering through what is undoubtedly an awkward date proposal to young woman. Complete with flowers that he'd half crushed in his attempts. ]

Let's see, [ His eyes scan over the crowd and finally back to Piper and that slightly mischievous grin that she wears. ] Mmm, I suppose that will do as well.

[ ...she was walking with a goober. One of the most handsome and dangerous goobers she's ever met, but a goober nonetheless.

She follows as he points, her gaze light and observant on each scenario he points out. People being people, glorious and hopeful. Yes, that was one of the things she'd have pointed out as good - Fayura's court. They were trying. It was a beautiful thing, and watching the people respond to it was also beautiful.

Her eyes widen as Verim's gaze lands on her, points her out as a good thing. Then she laughs and shakes her head, blushing very faintly. (Part of Draega? Her? She... didn't think so, but that was hardly her objection.) ]

That's a pretty bold statement, Lord Verim. You don't even know me.

Don't I? [ Verim muses quietly. ] I know you accepted my invitation and that alone speaks to a certain amount of bravery, and you kept going which speaks to more. [ The mind of a Warlord Prince is not an easy one to walk no matter how he tries to present those memories. ] You strive to understand Draega as a whole, not just in the terms of landen or Blood, and that attests to an open mind not mired in rigid concepts.

[ Verim pauses with a slight smile. ]

Shall I go on, Lady?

[ ...Piper thinks he is making entirely too much of things. What he's listing off are things that anyone would do (in her opinion) and not unique or special or noteworthy in any way. Yes, it had been scary to so open her mind and permit herself to be vulnerable to a stranger, and yes, Verim's memories and the intensity of his emotions had not exactly been a picnic, but she was uniquely qualified to deal with extreme emotions. She was only doing what she could in order to try to do the job that was in front of her, in order to try to understand and help these people.

Her brow furrows and she shrugs uncomfortably. ]

I'm just trying to help. I can't do that if I can't understand this place.

[ Her entire tone and posture communicates: You are making this too much of a big deal.

Old shadows creep into the corners of her eyes as her doubts whisper: Not only is he making this too much of a big deal, he's making a mistake. He shouldn't be walking with you or vouchsafing his confidence in you. What good are you?

Piper swallows and attempts to push through... everything that just happened here and leave it in the dirt behind them. ]

Have you ever played two truths and a lie, Lord Verim?

[ An abrupt question should work! ]

[ Verim laughs softly, a pleasant warm sound as he leads Piper around a group of young witches and warlords trying to gawk at the Queen without seeming like they're staring. ]

You are not comfortable with compliments, are you Lady? [ Just as smoothly as Verim asks the question, he moves on from that topic to the question that she asks. One brow aches. ]

A game? If I'm not mistaken it's the one where a person poses untruths about themselves and a truth hidden among them, then it is the goal of those playing to pick out the truth among the lies?

[ No, no she is not comfortable with compliments, especially when she thinks she doesn't deserve them. Most attention made Piper want to shrink back, but if she received praise she wanted it to be for something she felt she was worthy of. She hadn't actually done anything to help here. But thankfully, Verim does not seem to require an answer, so. Good. ]

Sort of like that, except it's two truths and one lie and you have to get the lie. [ It figures the Draega version would have more lies. ] Would you like to play a round? I'll go first.

[ And that way, he can at least say he knows something about her. It's not that Piper wants to make it fair because he shared his memories with her, it's that... well... because he shared so much with her, she wants to be able to share with him, but it's not out of a sense of balance or justice as more as it is just... wanting to continue the connection? ]

[ A game that has no more import than the enjoyment of the participants is a welcome thing. Besides, it seems that Piper is wanting the change of topic and he's amiable enough to give it. ]

Two truths and one lie. [ Verim hums while stroking his chin. ] A one in three shot seems a bit in favor of the one guessing, but I would be game for a game.

[ Perhaps more than one since she has seen more of him than most outside of the Inner Circle. He knows much, much less of Piper which will make this an intriguing challenge.] Very well, Lady Piper, give me your two truths and singular lie.

[ Hmm, okay... how to phrase this... ]

I'm a vegetarian [ she ticks off each statement with her fingers, spreading out her left palm and moving her right index finger across her fingers with each one ], I got in so much trouble with my boyfriend after you sent me that basket, he fussed at me for hours, and I was named after a kind of airplane.

You have me a distinct disadvantage since I've no clue what an airplane is or why anyone would be named after one.

As for the fussing, that I can easily believe. [ He smiles a bit too much there. ] Any male worth his salt should fuss - often, but usually gently.

[ Fayura would undoubtedly disagree and he has no doubt that Piper will as well. However, one of the other privileges of fussing was the lack of need to apologize for it as long as the fussing is commiserate with the circumstances. Since Piper doesn't furious about the basket or the 'trouble' (read: fussing) with her boyfriend, Verim decides that it was indeed equitable. ]

I think in this case, I will have say that you being named for a kind of airplane is the lie.

Airplanes are kind of like... ships that fly. [ She shrugs a little. ] And Piper is a brand of airplaine, but - you're right, I wasn't named after them.

[ Despite the teasing she'd suffered on that account. But the POINT was: ] That basket meant he found out before I was ready to tell him. [ You know, completely better and in control so he couldn't see how dangerous the thing was that she'd done, or how it had impacted her. But she isn't really mad at him about it. ] But it was kind of you, even if it wasn't necessary.

Ahhh, [ Verim nods with understanding though only a little remorse. ] Then I will give my apologies, Lady. Among Blood males being notified of some things is... expected. Had I chosen to not fuss, or if your boyfriend thought that I was trying to hide my involvement in something he felt might have harmed you, that is reason enough to kill.

But I suppose that I do not need to tell you how strange we find some of your customs. I, for example, wouldn't have let Fayura out of my sight for a week at least under similar circumstances. [ A bit of an exaggeration, but only a little. ] So, does that make it my turn?

I once had a mutt named Gabein. I prefer a splash of orange in my coffee. Hmmmm, I don't like strawberries.

So... you sent the basket as a courtesy call to my boyfriend? [ That wasn't what he was saying, but it was one of those strong implications. Worth calling him on.

...also, a whole week? Seriously? She loves her boyfriend, but if he did that she'd have serious doubts that he was respecting her ability to fight her own battles and make her own choices. That'd be a problem. She has to make herself remember the intensity of Verim's feelings to not be completely weirded out. ]

And yes, it's your turn. [ She listens to his options and wonders if he had a cat named Gabein. But decides: ] I'm going to go with the orange in your coffee.

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event: a gentle festival

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