FEBRUARY 2021 EVENT: PART ONE

[robbies]

 

CHAPTER TWO, PART 1: A LIGHT LUNCH

Good times, great olives, Uliveto's.

INVITES AND INSISTENCES | BISQUE AND BREADSTICKS | FONTINA AND FOCACCIA | MUNDANITY AND MISHAPS

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INVITES AND INSISTENCES

After a fairly low-key January, you start hearing the buzz on February 1st: The Happy Homes Association is inviting you to a luncheon on Friday! Stylishly dressed women in coats and hats are inviting everyone they know in the neighborhood, coming up and knocking on your door to invite you personally to come along. “Noon on Friday at Uliveto’s,” one of them tells you with a bright smile. “There’ll be food and drinks, and the whole community can get together and mingle a bit!”

Whether you’re home to answer the door or not, you’ll receive a small card advertising the event — it’s a fundraiser, after all, and they need your help! Pay just $3 and your food and as much as you’d like to drink are covered.

But some of the HHA members are a little more insistent, roving the neighborhood in search of anyone who’s just moved to Santa Rosita in the past few months. Their almost too-wide smiles and slightly-vacant eyes are a dead giveaway that these neighbors aren’t all at home, and they aren’t willing to take anything less than a “Yes” when they ask you if you’re coming. You’ve got to wash your hair? They know a hairdresser over at the salon on Main Street who can fit you in today. Groceries? Why, their daughter can take care of that for you in a jiffy! No excuse will fly with these Robbies; they’ve always got an answer and a way for you to make an appearance.

It won’t end once you’ve agreed, either (even if you just agree to get them off your back!). With the promise of another guest at the luncheon, the Robbies are quick to suggest that you should help them! There are so many people in the town, after all, and with more people volunteering to spread the word, they can make this the most successful fundraiser ever! (Or, well, at least the most successful since last year’s Little League candy sales!) Look, there’s another of your new neighbors over there — why don’t you go and invite them now? Your new friends from the HHA will be right here to support you and help you out!

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BISQUE AND BREADSTICKS

On Friday, February 5th, Uliveto’s is easy to find — just follow the train of cars headed to North Santa Rosita, where the restaurant sits just off of Main Street with a parking lot that’s packed full. Hopefully you’re willing to walk, because it looks like the luncheon is in full swing! But as you get closer, you see that the ladies of the HHA have things down to a science as they welcome neighbors, invite them to join one of the many tables set up in the half of the restaurant they’ve taken over, and integrate newcomers into conversation.

“Oh, hello!” one of the ladies gushes as she spots you. “I’m so glad you could make it! It’s a little cold today, but you should try the tomato bisque — it always warms me right up! Come with me and Betty can get you all set up with your meal voucher; have you ever been to Uliveto’s before? It’s just divine; the salad and breadsticks are all you can eat and the pasta — golly, my mother never even tried to outdo it. We’d just come here instead!”

Before you know it, you’ve paid your entrance and have been shown to one of the large party tables (or maybe they’re multiple tables pushed together? What restaurant normally has tables that seat 20 people?), a waitress offering you the drinks menu and asking if you’d like to start with a glass of (nonalcoholic, of course!) wine. Once she’s gone, you’ll finally get a chance to look around the interior of the restaurant. The walls are a warm yellowed beige, and fluted columns break up the space with clinging ivy and grapes hanging from planters near the top. A mural is painted on the far wall of a terrace looking out over rolling hills and vineyards, and the soft music of an accordion reaches your ears…

“You all right, hon?”

One of the ladies at your table is looking at you expectantly. Don’t forget, you’re here to mingle and socialize! Time to break out that small talk!

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FONTINA AND FOCACCIA

As the luncheon continues, you may be able to notice some of the HHA volunteers scurrying back and forth, taking turns manning the doors and the small table where Betty’s taking donations and issuing meal vouchers. Watch long enough and you’ll be able to see that all of them are ultimately reporting to three ladies who confer at a smaller table set back from all the mingling, talking amongst themselves and from time to time making notes in a small ledger. At about half past noon, one of the women stands, calling out, “May I have your attention, please?” She has to repeat it a couple times to be heard, but after a minute or two everybody settles down. The woman nods toward all of the guests, then turns back to the table, allowing one of the women to stand and make herself known. Tall, graceful, and neat, she takes a look around the room as she speaks — does her gaze linger a moment on you? Good afternoon, everyone. For those of you who may not know me yet, my name is Rosemary Craven, and I’m the head of our local Happy Homes Association. A small wave of applause breaks out from some of the ladies; Rosemary seems to indulge them for just a moment before she lifts a gloved hand to quell it. Please. I can only manage what I’m given, and the fine women of the association give me plenty to work with. Their efforts to organize this luncheon for all of us today showcase the dedication we should all strive for. Ladies, please stand and be recognized. Today’s fundraiser is to benefit our town as Founder’s Day approaches in April. We’ve got big plans for the funds we raise — who knows? Perhaps we’ll be able to afford some yummy treats for the children. Who doesn’t love an ice cream cake? Your generosity today makes all of this possible. You’ll forgive me for not giving you hard numbers, but I’d hate to be so gauche in such a lovely restaurant. Let me assure you, though, that the Happy Homes Association is here to help you in whatever way we can, whether that’s by helping you redecorate your homes, bringing over home-cooked meals, or teaching you some new skills — and speaking of new skills, I’d like to invite all of our new neighbors to talk with me personally if you think you might be interested in helping us out from time to time. Sewing might not be your forte, but everybody’s got something they’re good at, and we can always use the extra hands. I’ll let you all get back to your meals. If you have any questions for me, please seek me out. I’ll be sitting just over here with Maude.

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MUNDANITY AND MISHAPS

After the luncheon, things in Santa Rosita continue on as normal. The weekend comes and goes, the work week begins, and the cold February wind blows… But when you wake up on February 10th, some of you are missing.

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OOC INFO

Welcome to the first part of February’s event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to utilize the log and network communities as well. Sign-ups to have your character abducted are located here; please fill out the form provided along with any other pertinent details.

You may play with the townsfolk NPCs as necessary in your threads; non-Robbied neighbors will be cordial and happy to make small talk and will try to maintain the pleasant atmosphere. Robbies will, as always, be mindlessly optimistic and complimentary about everything—you may find that most of the Robbies have congregated at their own table and are bubbling with excitement over just about anything.

There will be a top-level posted for Rosemary below. If you would like to have your character interact with her, comment with your starter there. The mods will respond to tags for Rosemary until February 15th.

Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.

Remember — part 2 of this event is coming February 15th!

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Comments

Theon Greyjoy | OTA

[reek]

1. Invites and Instances

[ Theon has no desire to attend anything called a “luncheon”. He has no desire to choke down another jello mould or casserole and he has no desire to mingle with people who know even less about him than he knows about himself. He slams the door on several of his neighbors, but when he hears the word “drinks”, and his mind is made up for him. A drink is exactly what he needs, and a drink could be all he needs to make sense of things.

There is a problem, however, when the Robbies leave, and he begrudgingly approaches the nearest neighbor to ask. Every charming, he cuts straight to the point: ]

What is a “dollar”? I’ve been told I need three of them.

2. Bisque and Breadstics

[ Theon does eventually obtain that three dollars, because he’s there to sneer at the very notion that it might be even vaguely “cold”. The weather has been so warm compared to the North, he’s ready to scream—for various other reasons as well, of course, but the weather factors into it.

He’s there to sneer at the menu (none of it looks familiar to him), and he’s there to all too graciously accept a glass of wine. He’s not a heathen. In fact, his manors are normally quite decent, but when he brings the wine to his lips, he spits it out immediately and glowers. ]

I could not tell you what that is, but “wine” is not the right word for it. Horse piss isn’t even the right word for it.

3. Wildcard

[ Surprise me. PM me here, catch me at muttonchops or just throw something out there. ]

1!

[grice]

[ falco spends much of his time outside after school and going through his notes with erwin at home, but, it isn't a rarity to see the blond child packed in winter clothing, mittens, and peruvian beanie out and about— mostly in thought or just observing the world around him. that way, he'd blend in better as the days went by. that, and maybe get a feel for what was wrong and what was very wrong in santa rosita (everything).

he's being stopped by a man on his was back from the groceries. he hasn't actually bought much today beyond something his "friends" keep chiding him to buy— gum, for cents at a time. he's investigating the pack and what it says before bringing his attention up at the question. a dollar . . .

actually, the question itself is never something he'd hear a native to california say. he's quick to being attentive; it's something he's sure he could help with. ]

That's Santa Rosita's currency, sir. Um— [ the boy fishes his jacket pocket for some loose change, and happens upon a few cents. only twenty five, but he probably has more somewhere. he has an "allowance". such is held out with an open, gloved palm. ] here . . . I think that's fifty cents?

[ twenty five. ]

A hundred makes a dollar.

[reek]

[ Theon has always been a fish out of water, but it shows more than ever here. Words don’t make sense, the clothing is strange, the food is inedible, and the less said about cars and electricity, the better. He’s well kept, but everything about him is out of place in Santa Rosa: his long hair, his not-quite-British accent, and the fact that he is incredibly underdressed for the chilly weather.

He steels himself as Falco speaks; far more than any adult should have to steel themselves when speaking to a child. His jaw clenches, and he barely makes eye contact. He has enough to worry about without being reminded of his sins. But it wasn’t my fault, he reminds himself as he frowns down at the coins in his hand. ]

Where did you get it?

[ He has never worked a day in his life. His allowance came from Lord Stark, after all, and there’s no one to do that for him here. He doesn’t understand if the coins in his hand are some great sum or something that even a beggar would scoff at. ]

[grice]

[ he looks— tense was the word, but falco had yet to have even the remotest idea as to why. no matter; he offers the man patience that doesn’t seem perturbed. ]

From the man that lives with me. He works and gives me some. [ theon receives a curious glance upward, whilst the boy continues going through the rest of his pockets. there’s just paper in this one, undoubted from his notes, ] What do you need three for? I think there’s more here.

[reek]

What sort of work does he do?

[ Theon steals a sideways glance at him, still tense. It’s true, he has no desire to work for money, but the larger problem is that he just doesn’t know how. In a world where no one is carrying swords or daggers, he isn’t trained in anything particularly useful, and the threat of war seems to be nonexistent.

Still, he would rather a child not outdo him. He’ll have to decide what makes him useful sooner or later. ]

A group of old crones said I needed to bring them three dollars in order to pay for wine.

[ That’s literally he got out of it. He really needs a drink. ]

[grice]

[ wine........... he has bad memories of wine, but at least it gives him a heads up on what it was for certain. the neighbors have been coming to their front door all week to talk about it. ]

Mister Erwin's a teacher. For the High School.

[ said . . . a little oddly and mildly disjointed like "high" and "school" were very separate things— and it still felt weird to call it a high school! oh, and what luck! there's actually one dollar he fishes out from his mess of crumbled paper, and decides

to hold it up. it should be fine. ]

Did you want a job?

[reek]

[ Theon can’t mask his confusion with the term either. His eyebrows furrow at the words “high school”. What he wasn’t taught by a maester, he was taught by a weaponsmaster. He knows what it means to be schooled, but an actual institute of learning has never been available to him—and what makes it “high”?

Does he want a job, though? Not particularly. He can’t imagine what he would do for a living. His use has always laid in battle plans, archery, and a quick wit. Those things don’t really pay, and he certainly doesn’t have any knowledge that he would willingly share with others. ]

I don't know. I've never had one. There was never any need.

[ He shouldn't feel ashamed of the fact, but the more he thinks about it, the worse and more useless he feels. Was he ever of any help to anyone, in truth?

He eyes the money in Falco's hand and with a sigh, shakes his head. ]

Keep it. I'll acquire the coin some other way.

[grice]

[ ah— he doesn’t know if he could understand that in full, but he does try. the money in his hand hovers in the air before quietly pulling it back into his pocket. that, he could see rather clearly: who doesn’t want to be useful in some way? it makes falco want to help him. he had the obligation to attend school, but as an adult unsure of what to do for the cash he needed . . . ]

What about, [ he only manages to think this because he saw it on the “television”. ] a hot drink stand? I can help you set one up.

2

[ourworldnow]

Right? Seriously, I was pumped to be at the adult table for once and I still get the grape juice?

[Louis is mourning this fact as if it were, by far, the worst thing to happen to him, or anyone, ever. Fake wine, for real? He pouts at his cup, as if willing could make it so.]

Wish I'd learned how to make prison hooch when I had the chance- but never had the fruit for it, you know?

[reek]

Where I come from, even children are allowed wine.

[ Not in excess, of course, but the concept of denying anyone wine due to their age is foreign to Theon. He scowls at his glass once more, as if his fury alone could turn grape juice to wine. ]

Proper wine.

[ourworldnow]

Europe?

[Just tossing out a guess- he'd heard kids in Italy started drinking in the womb. But he's looking around and- nope. No one seems to have anything different.]

I think we died and got sent to a public service announcement.

[reek]

No. The Iron Islands.

[ In the short time he’s been here, he’s heard plenty of assumptions that he’s from Europe or England; two places he’s never heard of in his life. He’s almost certain that they don’t exist at all (and someone ought to show him a map), but sometimes, it is comforting not to be immediately pinpointed as an outsider. In Winterfell, it didn’t matter what he wore or how he spoke; everyone knew where he was from and why he was there and treated him as such.

But being ironborn is important to him, even if his father will barely claim him as his son. It’s a sense of pride that keeps him admitting to it.

He finally pushes his glass away, dissatisfied, disappointed, and disgusted. He can believe being dead, but death would surely be kinder and more welcoming than this. ]

It’s not death. It’s a nightmare. Death would have wine, not horse piss.

[ At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself: it’s a strange night terror and eventually, he may wake up. ]

[ourworldnow]

I've never tried it- always figured real death would just be...nothing. I've seen bodies keep going after dying. I'd like to think I wouldn't be in there.

[Actually, he refuses to even consider there might be some soul left in those husks. It would just make it all too terrible to deal with.]

You know how to make any? Wine, I mean.

[reek]

[ Deep down, Theon feels the same way about death being nothing. But he has childhood memories of being told that when an ironborn dies, he goes to the Drowned God’s watery halls where he can drink and feast to his heart’s delight. These days, he doesn’t consider himself to be a godly man, but he only has so many memories of home, and voicing disdain or doubt of any of it out loud would feel wrong. ]

Keep going? Like a chicken after you’ve cut its head off?

[ He furrows his eyebrows. That is not what happened to the kennel master. Theon would probably feel worse about killing him if it had. ]

No, I don’t. Do I look like a vintner to you?

2.

[mandelbrots]

[Amanda doesn't spit hers out, but she comes incredibly close. She finally manages to get it down with a strained gulp, face twisted up in confused disgust. How does someone mess wine up that bad?]

Okay, I haven't had horse piss, but it's gotta be better than this shit.

[A strange moment of actual agreement between them. It can't end soon enough.]

Maybe I'll order bleach so I can stop tasting it.

[reek]

[ Theon thinks he hasn’t had horse piss, but he can’t actually confirm. He’s put a lot of questionable things in his body, and the taverns he frequented in Winter Town are not always of the highest quality. But coin was always freely available and horse piss or not, he never had to struggle to pay for it. ]

I would wager someone emptied the contents of their privy into a bottle and called it wine.

[ He doesn’t have anything to wager, but this might be the first thing they’ve agreed upon. ]

Do people drink this willingly?

[ He glances around, hoping to spot literally anyone drinking this faux-wine without grimacing. He finds several. ]

[mandelbrots]

[She desperately wants to make fun of him for saying "privy", but she doesn't have enough energy today to deal with him causing a scene. Chronic pain is a bastard, and so is her beloved husband.]

I mean, yeah. Mainly when they're dumb kids and can't get their hands on anything better.

[Do they have drinking ages over at Medieval Times?]

Except even the gas station shit has alcohol in it. This is just depressing.

[reek]

[ Dumb kids, huh?]

Does that include you?

[ He turns to her with a cruel smirk. He’s more of a child than she is; his twentieth name day wasn’t long ago, though there had been too much going on to celebrate. He doesn’t believe Amanda would willingly drink fake wine either. It’s just easier to mock someone else than it is to deal with harsh emotions or ask what a “gas station” is. ]

[mandelbrots]

[The glare Amanda sends him could peel paint off of walls, if it weren't coming from a face that, admittedly, looks years too youthful.]

I'm twenty-four, dude. [And still somewhat in denial about it, in some moments. When you lose five years of your life to a debilitating illness, it's hard to move past the place you left off. She should still be nineteen, she thinks sometimes, raging in dive bars and riding around in strange cars.] I'm a total, actual adult. Just... not the kind that should be married yet. Twenty-four's when you've, like, got your own apartment, but you're still doing dumb shit.

[reek]

Maybe where you come from.

[ He suspects that even at age twenty-four, he would still be known as “Eddard Stark’s ward”; just a kinder name for something more sinister. There are times when he wonders if he would have ever seen home again without Robb taking his place as King in the North, but it’s a thought best left in the corner of his mind, tucked away where he can’t think about it too deeply.

He nabs a breadstick and takes an angry, impolitely large bite. ]

My point is that you look more of a child than I do.

[ Yes, really. ]

2

[13thcommander]

[Fortunately, Erwin has plenty of experience dealing with glowering, anti-social party goers, and the wine spit-take barely even surprises him.]

It's grape juice. If you want anything with alcohol in it, I'm afraid you have to supply your own.

[He makes a vague gesture around the room.]

I'm sure the HHA doesn't want us getting drunk and rowdy on their watch.

[reek]

[ Theon rolls his eyes. He only came and he only forked over three dollars for the sake of the wine, and now even that’s taken away from him. First his horse, and now the promise of wine. He would almost rather be back in Winterfell, watching it burn and crumble to ruins. ]

I don’t see how that’s any of the HHA’s business.

[ He pushes the cup away, but continues to stare at it as if to will it into proper wine. ]

Do they not call themselves the Happy Homes Association? I’m not particularly happy right now.

is Theon early canon or post-Ramsay?

[13thcommander]

Most of us aren't.

[Erwin is drinking his fancy grape juice, but that's because he's trying to blend in.]

I doubt they're terribly interested in our happiness, and more in our compliance.

I haven't seen you around the city before. I take it you're a new arrival?

from the end of the second book! so he knows of ramsay, but nothing has happened yet

[reek]

[”..more in our compliance”. That resonates with Theon, and it sparks the desire to comply even less. After ten years of compliance, he’s had more than enough of it. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Even if Theon wanted to blend in, he doesn’t know how. Everything is so different here, he isn’t certain what to do in any situation. But pouting never hurt, and that’s just what he does, all over a glass of grape juice. ]

I do not intend to comply.

[ Little does he realize, compliance is probably for the best. ]

Aye. I arrived a week or so ago.

[ Assuming all of this is real and not just another one of his night terrors. He isn’t so certain yet. ]

leaving the door open for a truly brutal canon update, I like your style

[13thcommander]

You can go against them, if you wish. But I'd advise caution for now.

[Erwin takes a sip of juice and glances up at the stage and the HHA ladies gossiping.]

Things have a tendency of getting nasty around here, and you don't want to attract unnecessary attention.

I take it you're from a world very different from this one? I am too, and this place takes some getting used to.