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]

[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.]

[illequipped]

[He also wanted to prove he could win, fair assumption. For a moment he considers being offended that Lalli clearly has no faith in his ability to win games, but you know what? It doesn't matter! They're just games! That's growth.

The look Lalli gives him helps, certainly; he's not sure he's ever seen Lalli look so... openly pleased? With him, as an added bonus, and this is definitely a best friend privilege and so Emil is quietly ecstatic about it. Some of that slides into their mental link, a pleased kind of feeling that isn't smug but just... warm.

Status: excellent. And he got a thank you! Wow!!]

Hah, you're welcome! Anytime. Let's go see about you winning all the other games, shall we?

[He's into it... His real calling in life is to be a cheerleader, so now it's time for the long ago suggestion: watching Lalli be good at games. This time he doesn't let his mind boil with potential embarrassment before slipping his hand into Lalli's and nodding towards the rest of the games. It- hand holding- is the Done Thing, now. Time to go!!]