event: a gentle festival

[thestewards]

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—

Comments

[unwieldy]

I. PARTY PLANNING, let's get this BREAD.

[ 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!! )

[championbittersweet]

[This is why you need to stop talking to people without looking first, Haein. You start talking to someone you hate on accident and then you're stuck here. Although he could be forgiven for not thinking he would see Jonathan around right now. With the sun out, although still early enough not to be at its peak, he should by all rights be asleep. But he's standing there instead, looking distinctly exhausted and grumpy and wearing a broad hat to offer some shade from the sun. His hands are gloved as well for similar reasons, and his clothing is smudged with dirt from working.]

From my understanding a little more won't harm them.

[unwieldy]

[ What!! Why does this keep happening to him!!

Haein recognizes Jonathan's voice immediately, and he jerks back when he turns to look and... yup. There he is. Gods, he'd been so focused on not killing the stupid seeds that he hadn't even realized that the monster was right next to him!!

To be fair, that hat is doing good work covering Jonathan both from the sun and proper view. Haein's kind of left distressed at the fact that a mere hat broke through his defenses so easily. Not to mention the fact that it looks dumb... and he'll make sure to say it, too. ]

You look ridiculous.

[ Just going to ignore Jonathan's helpful advice to insult him instead, yeah! ]

[championbittersweet]

I feel ridiculous. [Is it still an insult if he agrees? Hard to say, but regardless, Jonathan knows he likely looks particularly bad right now and can hardly fault Haein for pointing it out.]

But it seems worth it for the novelty of being able to spend a small amount of time in the sun. I'd almost forgotten what the world looked like in daylight.

[unwieldy]

[ Hey!! Don't agree with his insults! That takes the fun out of it.

Let this extremely displeased expression on Haein's face tell Jonathan just what he thinks about this development. He'll even say it in words! ]

I'd rather you crawl back into the hole you came from.

[championbittersweet]

Highly difficult considering the mass grave I crawled out of is in London, 1918. [Jonathan's tone is still even, light even. He's started to get used to Haein's insults and suspects it's something of a defensive mechanism anyway, so he doesn't respond to it.

That and not responding as the young man wants seems to irritate him even more so there is a small amount of petty enjoyment from it.]

Lady Fayura has assured me that her power can protect me from the sunlight to an extent but I would prefer not to risk it, so some additional measures proved necessary.

[unwieldy]

[ Haein's left staring for a moment, his expression blank as he tries to decide if Jonathan is kidding or being serious. That was... like a hundred years ago? What the fuck.

There are too many questions, but none that he wants to voice out loud. He doesn't care! And asking questions would make him sound like he cares.

At least they can move the conversation along. ]

Oh. [ There's some disappointment here. ] So if I were to knock your stupid hat from your head, you'd be fine.

[championbittersweet]

Apparently, but I haven't attempted it. [It's rather like being told he would be able to handle touching flames now; the possible outcome of the information being wrong is more daunting than the possibility of it being right.]

But even if I were not protected, it wouldn't kill me. The sunlight burns and hurts but isn't fatal.

[unwieldy]

[ Hmm, Haein kind of wants to see what'll happen when the hat comes off now. ]

You should try it.

[ Time to encourage Jonathan to touch the flames!! ]

You won't know unless you do.

[championbittersweet]

Hoping for a display of fire?

[Jonathan smiles, sharp with just a suggestion of fang.]

Why don't you do the honors then? I won't stop you.

[unwieldy]

[ Wariness intensifies at the hint of fang. He turns away, expression disgruntled. ]

Not when you say it like that.

[ Excuses!! But Haein would have liked to hear more of a protest. ]

ii.

[mekhanikos]

[ leo, for his part, is having a grand old time with the different gaming booths, examining the workings of the carousel, and munching on food that's actually pretty good this time around. he's less thrilled about the costumes, and it's as he's making a face at one of the many earth mothers that walks past him that haein talks to him, and leo gratefully latches on to the distraction. ]

Uh, yeah, I think so! [ a grin follows, of course. ]

I definitely ate, like, three of them, and here I still am, so... I'm not sure if it's demigod metabolism or that the food is 200% safe, but I'm betting it's the latter.

[ a sensible answer? without too many quips? is this the real life ]

[unwieldy]

[ Not his first, second, or 800th choice when Haein wants an opinion, but at least it's a straightforward answer.

Demigod metabolism, though? That certainly catches his attention, and Haein pulls his gaze away from the stall to narrow his eyes at Leo. That wasn't information that had been shared when they'd first met, but then again, Haein had mostly been trying to shut Leo up during that time. ]

You're a demigod?

[ He... has... something... in common... with Leo?? Oh no. ]

i

[yesterweek]

[ Calvin... can't do shit. He can cook passably, but not well enough to offer up his services for cooking. He can hang up decorations, but doesn't have the sense to know what looks good. In general he's kind of useless here, so he's be given the task of running things back and forth as needed for other people.

He just happened to be making his way towards the kitchen, passing by Haein just in time to suddenly have a cloud of flour waft into his face, causing him to sputter and rub wildly at his face in order to get the fine powder out of his eyes. ]

[unwieldy]

[ A fellow flour person!

Oh... Wait, no. It's just Calvin. Haein has already determined that he actively despises Calvin, so this is not a meeting between kin.

A kind, well-mannered person might apologize for causing such a nuisance! Maybe they'd even offer to grab a wet towel or something. But Haein is not kind, well-mannered, or apologetic. He's downright vindictive when he realizes who it is.

Without a single word, or really even a pause, Haein works that much harder to get more of the flour off of him and onto Calvin instead. ]

[yesterweek]

[ Calvin has done nothing to deserve this! Sure, he might have forced Haein into helping him with a difficult situation that Haein didn't want to be involved in, but Calvin didn't want to be involved in it either. And yeah, maybe he was kind of passive aggressive and shitty to Haein last time they spoke, but that's only after Haein was an asshole to him!

He definitely doesn't deserve this active hatred directed at him! Though he's not going to do anything to lessen Haein's hatred at any point now, not when Haein is going out of his way to tick him off.

Calvin has the sense to take a few steps back and out of immediate flour range. ]

What the hell, dickhead?

[unwieldy]

[ Well, it was fun while it lasted.

Haein fixes Calvin with a displeased stare, something similar to how he'd look at an annoying cockroach scuttling across the floor, before shrugging impassively. ]

Watch where you're going.

[ Clearly this is all Calvin's fault and Haein will make it known. ]

[yesterweek]

[ BITCH!!

Okay... Calvin is taking a deep breath, because he's not an excessively confrontational person to begin with. Still, he's not good at smiling and shrugging things off either when people are being huge dicks about things.

Mostly he just makes shitty comments though. No actual fighting, because look at him. Does this look like a boy who has swung a fist once in his life?

His smile is so forced right now. ]

Maybe don't stand in the middle of the hall like a fucking jackass then.