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

[ilves]

[Feeling sick is the worst, but at least Lalli has that—and this water he's sipping on—to think about instead of what his hand should or should not be doing right about now. He registers Emil's fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, of course, but that's just a normal Emil thing to do, right? Sure. He probably wants to head off to something new, a thought that is seemingly confirmed when he asks that question of his.

...Hmm. Lalli places his half-empty cup down beside him, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back the slightest bit. They can revisit the game he's so amazing at... he saw a booth with flower crowns that Emil would probably like... he still has three different cookies to try...]

Mmm... [He's thinking, he's thinking.] We can look for a new game? For you.

[Is it possible to find a game that Emil isn't bad at? They'll find out soon enough, he supposes, but... hmm. You know, sitting here for a few minutes longer isn't bad? The bench is tucked off to the side; it's relatively quiet; Emil is, you know, close enough to reach out and touch, which Lalli might just do if he keeps fiddling with that dumb ribbon. He won that thing, Emil! It's the only bear with a blue ribbon, and it should be treasured. That aside, though...]

Soon, but not now.

[illequipped]

[Ah yes, the elusive game Emil can win... He's looking forward to it. For now he looks sideways at Lalli, a little exasperated, but it's fake. Hey...]

I'm not rushing. We can still sit for a while.

[Sitting is just fine! He even puts the bear down on his other side, because he doesn't want to ruin its beautiful blue ribbon and anger the many ghosts trapped inside, either. This is all very... fine; Lalli is feeling better, slowly, so it's his job to tell Emil when it's time to go do other game things, leaving Emil toooo... sit and think.

Yeah, that doesn't last very long. He's a simple creature with simple wants and introspection isn't one of those things— what he wants is the simple warmth and comfort of physical contact. It was fine before! For a while! So surely it will be fine now, all of which he communicates by pinching Lalli's sleeve for a moment to get his attention, then holding his hand out. Here, take this, thank you.]

[ilves]

[Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful, because even if Lalli's stomach felt perfectly fine—well, he's been running around this crowded festival for a while now? Not that he's had a bad time—far from it, actually—but taking a breather before plunging back into the chaos... seems like an excellent idea. He doesn't mind sitting in silence, letting everything else drain away as he focuses on each breath he takes. Just for now.

Emil, however... might. Does, Lalli thinks when he feels that tug on his sleeve, but a quick glance over Emil's way is all that it takes to let Lalli know that this isn't about Emil wanting to, like, make sure that he's listening; this is about the hand Lalli finds himself blinking down at like an idiot as he puts two and two together, because ah, Emil wants to...

...Ah. His eyes briefly flick up to Emil's face, almost like he's looking for some hint that he's on the right track here, before he slowly reaches out to take Emil's hand in his. Holding hands for a second time! It's fine, really; the first Hand Holding Experience lasted long enough for this to feel normal-ish, even if there's something, oh, slightly odd about actually seeing how easily they actually fit together. Has he ever paid attention to Emil's hands before? Not really, no, but now he finds himself studying the one he's holding, noting the ways it is and is not like his own as he gently tilts their linked hands to the side. Hmm!]

[illequipped]

[Hmm, see, studying their hands is making somewhat a larger deal out of this than Emil was aiming for? Lalli takes his hand voluntarily: nice! Emil is content then to briefly acknowledge the little flip his stomach does at the renewed contact and then look elsewhere, maybe squeeze his hand lightly to prove that, yes, this is great, this is what he meant by that gesture. That's the plan, but then Lalli is... just looking at their hands, which means Emil has to keep looking at Lalli, and such a simple gesture is getting away from him entirely.

Maybe he should calm down. He opens his mouth to say something, reconsiders, shuts it again. There's nothing pithy and smart he can say about his hand that he won't immediately feel stupid about, so... here they are. He drums the fingers of his other hand against his knee, then stops. Ah... this boy... doing his mildly eccentric staring thing. Emil can't help but smile slightly, despite his restlessness.]

What? It's fine, you know.

[Because surely Lalli is judging the appropriateness of holding hands on a bench for no reason... surely.]

[ilves]

[That's exactly what this socially inept idiot is doing, Emil. Or not, because even though holding hands while they're just sitting like this is different than holding hands while they're rushing to and fro, he doesn't feel that same... uncertainty he felt after touching Emil's cheek. Emil held his hand out for Lalli to take? He gave Lalli's a squeeze? This is obviously fine for him, and Lalli has decided that this is fine for him, too. That he likes this, so—]

Mhm. I do.

[Which is a strange thing to think about, truth be told, but he focuses less on that and more on flipping Emil's hand palm-up before... pulling his hand away? For the briefest of moments, that is; he soon presses his palm back against Emil's, carefully lining up their fingers as he continues comparing them from this angle. Part of his brain registers there is, mmm, something new and oddly intimate about this, and yet...

...Well, it's interesting! To Lalli, anyway, which is why he glances at Emil to see if he's paying any sort of attention to this scientific study. Should he explain??]

They're... different, [he oh-so helpfully points out, vaguely aware that it sounds dumb but unsure of how to make it sound, um, less dumb.] See? Your hand is bigger.

[It's not a hyuge difference, since they're both small, but! Add it to the list of Things Lalli Never Noticed About Emil (Until Now).]

[illequipped]

Oh— good.

[Then they're on the same page! Which is a new and exciting feeling in this particular case, as it relates to the new and exciting feelings of holding hands. That gives Emil space to breathe, and to just... watch whatever it is Lalli is so fascinated by with their hands here. He is paying attention, but it's more of an idle curiosity than Lalli evidently has... Emil has other very scientific things he's thinking about, like how oddly soft the way Lalli experiments with his hand is. Or, yes, how it's leaning pretty close to intimate...

Well, it's kind of like that other time, before Lalli freaked out and ran off for a whole night. It's quiet, despite the festival still carrying on around them; there might as well be no one else in the world but the two of them here on this bench, even if Lalli's highly eloquent explanation is... well, it's dumb, but Emil still hums like it's very interesting.]

Yes...? And your fingers are thinner than mine.

[You know, since they're just naming characteristics. Emil emphasizes this point by shifting his hand just enough to thread his fingers through Lalli's and squeeze his hand again, so like, sorry if this palm comparison thing was still going. He's moved on to phase two.]

[ilves]

["They're different" is a far easier concept than "I've never noticed anything like this about anyone else because I've never been this close with anyone else," so Lalli is... doing his best, in his special kind of way. It's easier to focus on the little details, like the fact that his fingers are thinner than Emil's, than it is to, like, take a step back and consider what's really going on here. He's simply, you know, observing his best friend's hand and drawing accurate conclusions...

Emil intertwining their fingers like this, though? Like, Lalli watches it happen, and yet everything but his heart suddenly slows to a crawl. Advanced hand-holding! A grip that's even harder to pull away from if things become Too Much!]

Ah—

[A soft (and slightly delayed) noise of surprise, then, but—well, has Lalli wanted to pull his hand away from Emil's at any point so far? No. No, he has not, and he doesn't want to pull his hand away at this point in time; he just needs another second or so, just to let things sink in, before he closes his hand around Emil's and returns that earlier squeeze. This is still fine! Yeah, this is... definitely still fine, because he's not just holding hands with anyone; he's holding hands with Emil, and that's a very, very nice thing to think about as he continues blinking down at this new thing they're doing. Mental link status: warm, soft feelings tinged with, mmm, a nervous sort of excitement.]

[illequipped]

[That's his delayed reaction boy... Is hand observing time over? Emil doesn't mind at all, considering, but it'd be nice to have confirmation on whether or not they're just going to look at each other for a while now. They could go wander around (slowly!) to find this elusive game for him to play, but sitting here is just as good... He's so torn between his restlessness, which is edging closer to giddiness, embarrassing— and his desire to enjoy this quiet little moment together.

That particular feeling sneaking through their mental link is another story entirely, however. It's a pleasant surprise, and a pleasant feeling at that; it bumps into Emil's restlessness, as it were, and tips it over into the dreaded giddiness. That's there, in the link, but Emil cannot keep anything completely in and so he laughs, leaning closer to bump his shoulder into Lalli's while his friendly punch hand is occupied. He doesn't pull away immediately, either; just give him a moment for this friendly bump.]

Me too, Lalli.

[This, above all else, is the softest he's ever been... Just a second longer and then he moves away again, to look the other way at the haunted bear, like maybe it moved or something while he was doing that?? Let him have this.]

[ilves]

[He's always somewhat aware of the state of their mental link, thanks to both his role in sustaining it and the fact that it's, like, a way for him to feel close to his best friend, but it can be easily overshadowed by other things! Things like, say, his own emotions as he studies his best friend's hand, but now—hmm. That's too strong a feeling for Lalli to ignore; it all but crashes into his mind, which is a startling thing for this emotionally reserved boy... but you know, there's something almost infectious about it? Almost. He's as pleased as he feels that he can possibly be with the way things are going, and yet knowing that Emil is this happy—!!

...Well! He recognizes his role in (unwittingly) making Emil feel this way, so when Emil suddenly leans against him and laughs? He's too pleased with himself, with Emil, to tense right up; instead, he finds himself humming lightly in agreement, finds himself smiling, because everything is better than it has any right to be.

And things are still good even when Emil leans away! All of these positive emotions are still swirling about inside him, so he squeezes Emil's hand one more time—just for good measure—before settling back against the bench to... well, to enjoy being here. Patiently. Quietly, too, because feeling so many things back-to-back is a surprisingly tiring thing...]

[illequipped]

[Ah yes, now it's time to relax. This time when Emil fusses with his prize bear it's not because he's slowly going out of his mind; he just has so much energy!! But he's handling it, because he knows Lalli wants to sit here for an unspecified While, and it's important to him that Lalli stays as happy as he is right now. Happy, and relaxed— it's very good! In the end, this is the game Emil is good at: making Lalli happy almost completely by accident.

Incredible. He has the high score.

Anyway, he's messing with the bear's ribbon just to kill time; they can sit here as long as Lalli wants, as long as, like, the games don't start closing... He does want to play at least one game and hopefully look very cool doing it before the night is over. There are other nights to this festival, but this night is the important one, surely. For reasons.

So give him maybe five minutes. Ten, tops. Then he clears his throat, because it's prooobably time to get up now.]

Soooo... [SOOO now what!!]

[ilves]

[It's closer to ten minutes, honestly, because Lalli is both comfortable and content, but—ah, this impatient boy! This impatient best friend of his. Lalli looks over his way, the faintest trace of a smile still present on his face, before he decides that this is Emil probably-definitely wanting to, like, move on to something new even though this is—in Lalli's humble opinion—a very good way to spend the rest of the evening.

...But fine, fine. Stand up with him! Not that Emil has the option not to, because as Lalli raises to his feet he makes sure to give that hand he's holding a quick tug. He's too weak to haul Emil to his feet, but dang it, he'll... give it a mediocre effort.]

A game? [The game HE'S good at! Except not really, because—] With no throwing.

[That was the plan, right? He's pretty sure it was, anyway, so after a quick stretch—off he goes, taking full advantage of this opportunity to pull Emil along behind him. Pick up the pace, buddy, and get ready to weave through and/or around crowds of possibly annoyed people, because it's all about finding the quickest way to the row of game booths. It's all surely worth it once they're, you know, actually there.

Anyway, what do we have here? Tons of throwing games, of course; a dinky little fishing game that's obviously there for small children; a Craft-powered high striker game that lots of young couples seem to be gathering around, because what better way to impress your date than to prove how stronk you are? Lalli's torn between leading Emil to it or leading Emil to the fishing game, so, uh, watch his eyes flick between the two very different booths as he tries to decide which one Emil would be better at... it's nothing personal...]

[illequipped]

[Off they go, cursed bear in tow. Emil has a half-hearted protest about this sudden zipping around, but he doesn't bother in the end. Lalli will find him the Game With No Throwing, and then he'll be great at it and impress everyone- mostly Lalli- very much. Perfect.

He does apologize to a few people they bump into along the way, but never mind that. Once they reach the non-throwing games, Emil looks between them, and— well, come on. Is this really a question?

Like, remember when they went fishing for real and he hooked himself? This kind of thing is a lot of pressure— He takes a step in the direction of the stronk hammer. Let him prove his Abilities...]

We didn't come all the way over here to play a fishing game, did we? [Soooo lame! Let him HIT stuff.] Right?

[ilves]

[The memory of that fishing trip is the only reason Lalli doesn't make a beeline for the fishing booth, honestly. It's far less crowded than the other option, but there goes Emil... expressing his Opinion...

Well, Lalli supposes that he can deal with all of those cheering, clapping people if that's what Emil really wants to do? And how long can this game really take, anyway? Not very long, surely, which is what he's going to keep telling himself as he pulls Emil over to kind of... loiter along the edge of the small crowd. They're just in time to watch someone—a costumed landen—saunter up to the game and pick up the hammer, all while his landen friends cheer and the Blood still waiting in line boo. Swell.]

...This? [Just, you know, a question he asks Emil as he watches the landen throw the hammer over his shoulder and, like, smack the shit out of this machine—only for a fourth of the thing to light up. So this is how the game works! Hmmmmmmm!] Oh. He's not strong enough...

[He casts a quick glance over Emil's way, almost like he's sizing him up. Pressure...]

[illequipped]

[Damn, Lalli, don't look at him with those judging eyes already. Emil is watching the game play out- it looks fun!!- until he glances at Lalli and catches that look. Hold on...]

I can lift you. Pretty high, I bet, if I wanted to.

[Emil deadlifting Lalli to run around the countryside, that's the image he's unintentionally alluding to here— He's strong! He's sooo strong!

...But does he have to use Craft to win this because then he's in trouble.]

You think I can't win?

[ilves]

[Lift him? Please. Lalli just gives Emil a slightly judgmental Look in response to that stupid observation, because 1. don't try and 2. why would he ever need to be lifted high off the ground?? So dumb.

But as for that question—hmm. His eyes slide back over to the game as he watches yet another landen step up to have a go at it. Give him a second to, like, mentally compare that boy and his boy.]

No? You can, [he says, really drawing that last word out in a way that probably doesn't inspire much faith... but it's only because he's busy tracking how many things light up this time. Not bad! Not bad at all, which is why Lalli nods over toward the landen who is now claiming some sort of prize.] You're stronger than he is.

[He's so sure of that fact! Anyway, go get in line or whatever, Emil, because Lalli (reluctantly) begins wriggling his hand free.]

[illequipped]

[One day he will bodily throw Lalli into a lake or something when he's refusing to wear a different sweater. Just know it's coming, because he Can.

That said— thanks much, he is definitely stronger than this other boy!! Who cares if people can hear them having this conversation? Not Emil, for sure. He already looks slightly more smug about his Strength, which is all the inspiration he needs to go wait in line without fussing about not holding hands anymore.

Don't worry! When he wins better than anyone has ever won before, holding hands will be an obligatory part of his victory lap!

Of course, when it's Emil's turn to whack this thing with a big hammer, his first step is making sure Lalli is watching. Hello, look at him, thanks. A few of the young Blood and landens are mildly interested in this if only because Strangers are, well, strange. Also, Emil is tiny, which doesn't seem... promising.

Thankfully he's a professional at punching and other arm stuff like swinging this hammer around, but his Big Impressive Win is more like, hmm, 3/4 of the total height of the thing? He's already wondering if the game is cruelly rigged against him personally, even as the game runner tries to wave a prize at him. How dare they build this mean game...]

you just wanted to use that icon... i see u

[ilves]

[Lalli is indeed watching, because a) he has nothing better to do over here and b) he does want to see how this whole thing turns out? If Emil wins (and earns a prize that's obviously less amazing than the bear Lalli won)—good! Great! If Emil loses—mmph.

So it's with great relief that Lalli watches that weird machine light up farther than it has so far. Emil didn't make it all the way to the top, true, but it's still good? Impressive, really, even though Emil clearly isn't pleased with his own performance. That boy... is so dumb. So, so dumb, but while Lalli watches his dramatic antics from afar, he can't help but to overhear the conversation of some nearby idiots. It's the first landen and his landen buddies, all talking about how this game is clearly rigged in favor of Bloods and their like. That tiny Stranger obviously cheated.]

He didn't.

[So grab that prize, Emil, and wander back over Lalli's way as he argues with this annoyed-looking landen who is insisting that Emil used Craft to show the rest of them up. How can Lalli be so sure that he didn't, huh? How can he be so sure?]

He doesn't know how. [Like, that's just Lalli being honest, but at least he follows it up with a much better—] And he's my best friend.

[That last bit explains EVERYTHING, clearly! To... Lalli.]

i always want to use that icon

[illequipped]

[Well, one thing is for certain: Emil doesn't even know what this prize is supposed to be. It looks like it's made of garbage? He'd be even more offended about the obviously rigged game and the trash prizes if he wasn't soooo... confused by the weird little thing.

His bear is much nicer, truly. He's just staring at this prize in his hand as he makes his way back over to Lalli, frowning, maybe with a complaint about this game lined up—

But, uh. What's happening over here.]

Lalli?

[Hello, what's going on? Will this hideous... monkey garbage thing help? Look at it while Emil glares at these landens who have upset his boy somehow... what do they want... The ringleader of their little posse is definitely about to accuse Emil of cheating at carnival games to his face, before Emil looks him up and down critically and frowns harder.]

Can you leave?

[He's trying to show Lalli his weird garbage prize? Other people are not necessary for this.]

[ilves]

[No one wants to waste their evening by jumping into a full-on fight, thank goodness; this is just, you know, some dumbass posturing, which is why the ringleader hurls a few more choice comments Emil's way before the group decides to mosey onward. Harassing the Blood > harassing Strangers, thanks to the efforts of some.

(And maybe Allairavar is lurking nearby. You never know? You just never know. No one wants to risk it.)

But as annoying as THAT encounter was—at least it's a brief one. Lalli can... relax the slightest bit.]

They thought you cheated. [He shoots one last Look at their retreating backs before turning back to Emil.] Pfh. Stupid.

[Emil is too terrible with Craft to even think about cheating? Duh? But don't worry about that, Emil, because it's only natural for Lalli's eyes to wander down to that... curious... fluffy(?)... thing...

...........................................Hmm.]

...What is that?

[illequipped]

[Oh!! That earns the retreating landens' backs an extra glare, because what the hell! He isn't a cheater, how rude...]

Hmph. It isn't my fault they did so poorly! Jealousy is terrible.

[THIS... is the real victory. And he heard Lalli say Best Friend a moment ago, and the landens have left them alone, so it's a net gain. He's still convinced the game is rigged against him, actually, and the prize is still... trash, but net gain. He's stopped frowning, but he's honestly not sure what emotion this prize is supposed to inspire... hmm.]

I have absolutely no idea what this is supposed to be.

[ilves]

[Yes, yes, jealousy is indeed a terrible thing, but at least Emil's Best Friend is there to defend him when it... totally doesn't even count. Ah, well. He tried. Anyway, is that supposed to be a monkey? Does Lalli even know what a monkey is? Deep SSSS thoughts. Watch him, like, reach out to give this toy(?) the briefest of pokes as he compares it to everything he does know. The list is small; it doesn't take very long at all.]

It's... weird. [Hmm, wait, what's a better adjective—] Ugly.

[Call it Reynir 2.0! Lalli might even be thinking that as he takes in all of its, um, luxurious fur, but then he imagines it just... sitting in their shared room. Beside his perfectly nice bear, probably. Hmm.]

What are you going to do with it?

[Throw It Out.]

[illequipped]

[He should keep it just to throw it at the next person who bothers them. That's the only use for tiny, hideous monkey things, whatever a monkey is, because at least one of them definitely does not know, you're right. Emil holds it up by its... string... letting it dangle while they Observe it.]

Hmm, I don't know. I wanted to win something for you, but this is... awful.

[Maybe he should try playing the game again—!!]

Maybe someone will want it? I don't want to look rude.

[You know, to the game runner who has already forgotten all about them.]

[ilves]

Oh.

[You know, it somehow didn't cross Lalli's mind that Emil wanted to win something... for him? Like, sure, he picked out that bear specifically for Emil, but he never expected anything more than a smile in return. Not because he's some kind of saint! No, no. It's just... well, this is different than Emil buying a practical (and much-needed) sweater for him. A different brand of thoughtfulness...

Huh. He blinks back at Emil for a moment, obviously surprised, before he looks back down at the monkey-thing. He doesn't regret anything he said; like, it IS weird, and it IS ugly, but it's also something that Emil won... for him, and that makes it better. Somehow. It's suddenly less, uh, Reynir-like, which is why he soon holds out a hand.]

...I do. [Oddly enough, he sure fuckin' does want this ugly thing!] Don't give it to anyone else.

[Put it here, in his hand, as he continues looking at it. A new sort of appreciation is developing.]

[illequipped]

[Please, this whole game-playing endeavor was purely to look very impressive and win a prize for the boy. Emil thought this was obvious, but apparently not...? He still kind of wants to discreetly dispose of it somewhere and win something very nice and cool for Lalli, honestly. Maybe he should rethink his game plan (ha).]

What, really? [Give him a second, he's savvy enough to get this; he too understands the Best Friend Prize excitement, after all. It takes him an extra second before he grins and wiggles the weird toy pointedly, then puts it decisively in Lalli's waiting hand. Tada!] There you go! All yours, from me.

[Treasure it always. Name it after him, but don't, because it's ugly. God, it's the worst.]

...I'll win you something else, too. Eventually.

[ilves]

[Maybe it would have been obvious if Lalli spent literally any amount of time thinking about it, but he honestly assumed that Emil wanted to win just to... prove that he could. And that was fine! Really, it was, but this is much better. Lalli even feels a strange sort of satisfaction as Emil places that horrible thing right in his hand, because it's not like Emil is winning things for other people! This is clearly for Best Friends Only, and Lalli is all for it.

Plus it's... so ugly that it's cute? Possibly? Lalli dangles it in front of his face, staring back into its creepy little eyes as Emil tells him he'll win even MORE stuff for him. Hell... yes, but a) he likes this now and b)—]

You don't have to. [A sweet thing to say, right? Until he follows it up with—] I can win more things for both of us.

[That's not Lalli being smug; that's just Lalli being honest, so don't get mad! Especially since he gives the monstrosity one last, slightly fond look before looking back up at Emil. Ah, see? That look goes from slightly fond to very fond, all without Lalli even realizing that it's happening.]

...Thank you. For this, and for... [Mmph. How does one put this.] ...the other things?

[The meat-on-a-stick! And, you know, taking him to see the lights, helping him out when he felt like death, holding his hand, etc. Thanks for... a good night.]