robbies: (Default)
TRANQUILIZERS ([personal profile] robbies) wrote in [community profile] logsville2020-12-01 06:00 pm

DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 1


CHAPTER ONE, PART 1: A HOLLY JOLLY HOLIDAY

Do you hear what I hear?


DECEMBER 5th | A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE | THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

DECEMBER 5th

Don’t you hate to be the last to know?

Out of the windows of your brand new homes, you spot families trotting along in their happy, nuclear units. Stores and restaurants have closed early—on main street, where jingle bells hang from every door, the only souls to be seen are heading toward the town hall, where wreaths hang around the stone lions’ necks. A stage, awash in string lighting, has been erected with three chairs sitting empty behind a podium. Policemen with their smiles and baby-blues stand guard before it; they too are not allowed beyond the velvet ropes. Twenty feet tall—near to reaching the tip-top of the clock tower—a mass is hidden by black tarps. This is the most guarded of all, ringed by no less than twelve junior policemen standing vigil around the clock.

At sundown, you start to see what’s to come.

As the crowd swells, bundled in their coats and scarves, the ladies with silk scarves drawn around their perfectly coiffed hairstyles, three figures take to the stage:
Chief of Police, Dale Harding, who must constantly slip away and bend his ear to listen to one of his boys, giving orders with long sighs, firm words, and grumbles as he takes his seat again. Occasionally one sees a flash of silver moving from his lapel up to his lips, but surely that must only be his policeman’s badge that he kisses, because he loves his town so very, very much!

The Happy Homes Association—or at least, their junior representative. Her bright and shining pin of office sits hidden behind the tremendous fruit basket poised upon her lap, where green and scarlet cellophane cannot quite hide the fruitcake inside the way it does her name. How does she keep her teeth so white and her lipstick so clean and red? Subscribe to their newsletter and read Cathy’s Cosmetic Can-Dos! column to find out!
Mayor Phillip Clarke—well, Phil to his friends. He takes his place at the podium, his top hat inky black, leather gloves oiled and bright, and draws all the town’s breathless attention. He taps the microphone. Once—the crowd inhales—twice—their eyes shine as they look up—three times

“Gooooood evening, Santa Rosita!”

The crowd goes wild as Clarke bellows. Eventually, he raises both arms and gestures for them to quiet down.

“I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out, especially on a school night!” Like the admonishing parent, he wags a knowing finger at several teens in the crowd. “Believe you me, on a night like this, I know how tempting it is to stay home and curl up on the couch with a good book. And,” he adds with a wink to a woman in the front of the crowd, “maybe some of Margie's famous hot chocolate.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd. Again, Clarke patiently waits until they’re finished before continuing, “But that's exactly what makes our little town so special. No matter the time, every day of the week there's always someone out there who will sacrifice something for the better of the community. Be it the energy to get this terrific tree set up—” he gestures to the tree, “—the patience to string twenty yards of lights up—which, I might add, have been generously donated by our pals at Honeybees—or even just time.”

Clarke’s tone turns solemn, but his face remains fixed in a winning smile. “Santa Rosita isn't just a town. It's a family. Each and every one of you out here tonight is a valued member. Even all you new faces out there!” He points to several newcomers in the crowd in what might almost be an accusatory manner if not for the smile on his face. “Don't think I can't see you! Tonight, you have become part of that family. Santa Rosita is your home now. It's through our traditions that we endure, and it's my sincerest wish that you, all of you, will join together with us and help us keep them alive for years to come.”

The crowd applauds, everyone turning to face the new families. As Harding takes a swig from a flask he pulls out of his pocket and the HHA representative continues to beam at the audience with her too-white smile, Clarke fully turns to the tree and pumps his fist in the air, riling the crowd back up.

“And now, without further ado, let's RING. IN. THE HOLIDAYS!”
As his words come to a close, at last the tarp is pulled away—revealing twenty feet of pure, polished, brilliant...

...aluminium christmas tree.

Quick as the busy bees they are, the Happy Homes Association is there to announce that you can buy both table-sized and home-use duplicates for your own homes! The cost is $8 for the little ones and $18.50 for the big trees—get your wallets ready!

As the crowd stampedes toward their own tiny and/or six-foot silver replicas, the three figures on the stage are hurried away. The HHA representative presents their gift basket to the Mayor. He kisses her on both cheeks, rubbing his belly in anticipation of the deliciousness to come, and hurries on. Chief Harding takes the rear, casting back a sour look, and before you have a chance to see if the three could answer any questions, the stage is empty again.

...well, get in line! You want those trees too, don’t you?

↑ back to top ↑


A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE

The days are getting colder and the entire town seems to be getting into the holiday spirit, between the tree lighting ceremony and the decorations your neighbors are putting up. But something seems to want you to get into the Christmas spirit as well—you haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, but when you open the door, you’re met by a burst of frigid air carrying the scents of gingerbread and peppermint on it.

Stepping through the door, you are not in Santa Rosita any more.

Well, technically, you are; you’re just down by Rose Garden Park, before the Old Growth starts. But it’s not where you thought you were going, and it doesn’t resemble the normal streets of suburbia now. You’ve stepped into a charming Christmas village, packed with all sorts of fun winter activities and sights to see! The ground is covered in pure white snow that never seems to melt into slush, and the sounds of high, sweet jingle bells fill the air as a team of reindeer haul a sleigh past. Maybe that’s Santa’s sleigh they’re pulling?
As you walk into the village, a red pole demands your attention, placed in such a way that no one can miss it. A letter is attached to it:

’Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town
The people were smiling; there was nary a frown!
They entered my village, all brimming with cheer
And knew that quite soon, old St. Nick would be here
There's skating and snowmen and light shows galore
There's even a place to make wreaths for your door!
But somewhere inside there's a mailbox to find
And Santa may bring you what's most on your mind…

As the letter suggests, the village is full of hustle and bustle. Santa’s elves—Robbies decked out in red and green costumes with matching tights and jingle bell boots—are everywhere, making sure that there’s always plenty of holiday treats available for visitors to eat and drink. The nearby pond is iced over and the elf manning the ice skate exchange station seems to be able to guess your perfect size with a glance, while reindeer racing courses have been set up encircling the village. All of the buildings and many of the trees have been lined with lights, warm and bright, and there are stations set up where visitors can make garlands or wreaths to take back with them to the real world.

The real world? Yes, of course—that boring place with work and school and vacuuming! Though the door you initially walked through may have turned into a station for making gingerbread houses, you can hoof it back to your home in Shadyside at any time. The public library is just that way, past the baseball diamond! Any time you open a door, however, you run a risk of finding that it leads back to the village, where the elves are waiting to ensure you enjoy your visit. You can try to close the door and open it again, but who knows if your luck has changed?

The organizers of the village seem to be most insistent that you come and enjoy yourself—flyers are all around town, stuffed in your mailbox, and pinned on bulletin boards. Though some signs on lampposts seem as though they’ve been torn down in a huff, you still can spot them on Main Street: “Visit Santa Rosita’s Very Own Christmas Village!”

And visit it you will.

While the elves are happy to welcome visitors to their village, they also have to work. Christmas toys don’t build themselves, you know! The elves will point out Santa’s Workshop to you, where you can buy freshly made candy canes, charming ornaments for your new aluminum Christmas trees (you did buy one from the Happy Homes Association, didn’t you?), and other sundries and stocking stuffers. There’s even a German-style bar in the back serving hot chocolate and mulled wine—non-alcoholic, of course; this is a family event. Just outside of the workshop’s entrance is a mailbox, its post swirled red and white and wrapped in garlands. A small desk sits next to the mailbox with a stack of stationery, envelopes pre-addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and pens on top.

At the top of the stationery, beside cutesy illustrations of hippos and children missing their front teeth, are the words, “What I want most for Christmas is…”

Why not write Santa a letter? What have you got to lose?

↑ back to top ↑


THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

...to the annual Christmas gala, beginning at 4:00 pm sharp at Santa Rosita’s stately town hall! The invitation appears in your mailbox with just enough time for you to gather all your family and go shopping, because you certainly want to look your best. You simply must. The who’s who of the town will be there, all wearing their finest velvet dresses and shined black shoes. Be warned that the dress code will be strictly enforced by the Happy Home Association—only red and green allowed, or else it simply isn’t festive. Men in bright red or green suits - women sporting taffeta skirts in complementing shades - pinned corsages and matching handbags - no detail left untouched!

You wouldn’t want to be caught standing out from the crowd, would you? In the Mayor’s presence?

That might be a bad idea.

But the holidays do get the better of us sometimes, don’t they? The HHA understands, and if on the day of the party you have found yourself without a red or green garment, they have some loaners to wear. If you’ll simply follow Mrs. Jones down to the coat room, she can show you some options.

  • For the ladies (and female-presenting), they offer up beautiful green or red dresses as loaner. ”It matches the metal trees!” the coat clerk brightly tells you, her own dress as shimmery as they come.

  • For the gentlemen(ly presenting among you), fresh off the rack at the local Sears Roebuck department store, these fetching blazers are available, complete with matching trousers.

In front of you in line is someone who very clearly does not have the Christmas spirit flowing through them, judging by how they wish to argue with the HHA about these “loaner garments.” How rude! But don’t worry—when you see the once-irascible individual later by the punch bowl, there’s a glassy smile on their face and they’re decked out in jolly green and poppy red, happy as—well, a kid on Christmas morning.

Tables are laid out with food and drink aplenty. Even the sandwich loaf has made its effort to match the decor, as red poinsettias and holly berries dot the windows (careful children—they’re poisonous) and rich green pines occupy every corner. Move outside of the room and you’ll find nothing more than locked and darkened offices, with the occasional policemen and night guards shaking their fingers at you to go back and enjoy the party. This is a night to be merry and drink some mocktails, not to go through the filing!

Up by the fine wood paneling and brilliant metal tree stands the mayor himself. Looking dashing as Santa Claus, a cluster of parents flock nearby beaming as their child gets their photo taken with Mayor Clarke! That’s certainly going in the Christmas newsletter! Each of them has a little present—perfectly wrapped, just see Grandma’s Gift Wrapping Guide in this month’s HHA newsletter—to give to the Mayor for all his hard work this year.

You didn’t think that stack of presents by Santa’s chair was for him to pass out, did you?

Between music sets (graciously played by the Frederick Loren High School marching band), the Mayor stands—the hall falls silent, all the little cups and plates still in jolly hands. He has a speech to give you all, you fine citizens, faces old and new:

“Ho-ho-hi there, Santa Rosita! And how are we enjoying ourselves tonight? I see some of our new families were able to make it out tonight—is that Richard O’Reilly and the missus?” Using a hand to shade his eyes, Clarke squints into the throng of townspeople. “And Jim Astin with Lucy and little Susie! Wow. Isn’t that something?”

In the back of the room, Chief Harding pours himself a glass of punch, takes a sip, then reaches into his suit jacket for his flask.
“Now, in my house,” Clarke continues, “we have a rule not to open any presents until Christmas Day, but with all the ones I've gotten tonight, it's just too darn tempting.” Reaching down, he takes a box from the pile of gifts at his feet. “I think this one's a tackle box, and I'm pretty sure this—” he reaches down for another smaller box, “—is that electric razor I’ve had my eye on.” He shakes the box, chuckling, as the rest of the crowd joins him.

“But let's get serious for a moment.” Clarke’s expression turns thoughtful. “Although getting a truckload of Christmas presents is swell, do you want to know what the greatest gift you've given me is?” He pauses performatively, waiting for an answer from the crowd that never comes.

“The greatest gift you've all given me... is letting me serve you.”

In the back, Harding ditches the punch cup and just drinks straight from the flask.

“I'm honored to be here with you all tonight,” Clarke continues proudly, “just I am honored to be able to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell myself that I... am your mayor. Which is why I want to give something back to you. How many of you have already visited Santa's little village?”

There’s a round of cheering in the front of the audience from the many children in attendance with their parents. Clarke opens his arms wide.

“My idea! I decided that if I can't bring Santa Rosita to the North Pole, I'm going to bring the North Pole to Santa Rosita. Enjoy yourselves! Saint Nick's got a lot of work to do before Christmas. So be good, don’t pout, and for goodness sake—have fun!

The clapping threatens to take down the garlands hung from chandeliers. ”A fine orator!” “Reminds me of the war, when we heard Churchill over the radio. Why, Clarke gives him a run for his money, ha ha ha!”

A delightful HHA elf comes to replenish the pickle tree on the appetizer table, and the covers of Bing Crosby carry you away into the night.

Remember to stay until 9:00 pm, when the Santa Rosita Children’s Choir will start caroling!

↑ back to top ↑


OOC INFO

Welcome to the first part of the event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to use the log and network communities as well.

A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.

Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!

And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.

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 December 15th!

▶ NAVIGATION ◀
COMMS logs | network | ooc | memes
OOC INFO premise | rules | faq | taken | applications | hiatus/drop/canon updates | activity check | reserves | mod contact
SETTING INFO calendar | setting | housing | npcs | death and tranquilizing | event suggestions/engagements
interdicted: (Default)

Wolfe | The Great Library | OTA!

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
i. awaken (v). [closed to wrathion]
[ Something is wrong. Wolfe knows this immediately, before he even opens his eyes—because he has to open his eyes; his eyesight doesn't suddenly snap into functioning. And he's lying down, which means something is doubly wrong; he'd been Translating from the Serapeum in London to Philadelphia and Christopher Wolfe hasn't needed a recovery period from Translation in years, especially when heading into chaotic situations where the lives of his students were at stake. Wolfe is up and out of bed in seconds, barely taking the time to notice his strange pajamas before he's stalking out of the room, bent on finding out exactly what's going on. ]

Nic? [ A pause, and then: ] Brightwell?

[ They're the two most likely to have regained their consciousness and remained close, he thinks, and when neither respond his sense of foreboding only grows, especially as he steps into the living room and sees photos on the wall featuring himself and a young man—the same young man that he sees now. ]

Who are you?


ii. alight (adj).
[ Wolfe is already in a mood as he's shepherded to the tree lighting ceremony, a briefcase in hand that's full of books from the Santa Rosita Public Library. He wouldn't have even gone if he'd had his say, but the librarians had shown up to usher him out of the library so that they could close and head over. Once they'd realized he wasn't aware of the ceremony, they'd insisted on walking over with him to ensure he didn't get lost. His eyes narrow as he watches Mayor Clarke, taking careful note of those with enough clout to demand a presence on the stage and marking the uniformed men in his mind. Likely this town's equivalent to the Garda, he thinks, though they look much different than the uniformed men and women of his home.

Once the ceremony is over, he turns to go, but Wolfe pauses at seeing the growing line to purchase the smaller aluminum trees. Gauging the people, he approaches someone who seems as though they might also have woken up here unexpectedly. ]


There are better things to waste your money on than aluminum trees.

[ Why? ]


iii. abstain (v).
[ Wolfe is a logical man. Things work in the way they're supposed to. There are laws about physics, and relativity, and mathematics, and any other topic you can think to examine. And none, not one, of those laws account for opening your bedroom door and stepping into a freezing riotous nightmare.

Wolfe is accustomed to Egypt's weather. He's not unfamiliar with the cold (ask him about his first venture to Moscow—or rather, don't), but it doesn't help with his foul mood one bit, and each time he opens the door throughout the month he's a little angrier, until finally: ]


Has it occurred to anybody here that some of us might not celebrate Christmas?

[ He needs a drink. ]


iv. apéritif (n).
[ While Wolfe may show up to the gala in his customary black suit, he (perhaps surprisingly) accepts one of the HHA's loaner jackets with only a displeased frown and no further fuss. Wolfe has yet to place his finger on the pulse of Santa Rosita, and if there's one thing he's learned over the years it's how to survive. The jacket is tacky at best, perhaps more suited to the Brightwell patriarch than him, but if it will keep the people here from being suspicious of him, fine.

Similar to his behavior at the tree lighting ceremony, Wolfe will spend a decent amount of time observing the movers and shakers of the town, paying particular attention to Clarke's speech. Afterward, he notes in an undertone (but audible to any characters who might like to hear!): ]


1: So it's Mayor Clarke I have to thank for the midnight trip.

2: The captain of the Garda and the mayor are at odds.


v. wildcard (v, n wild card).
[ You know the drill! Likewise, feel free to modify any of the above—interrupt, run into him at a different time during or outside of the prompts, I'm good with anything. [plurk.com profile] journeys for any questions! ]
Edited 2020-12-02 05:43 (UTC)
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

Bruce Wayne | DC Comics

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-02 05:47 am (UTC)(link)
December 5th

[ bruce decides to follow the throng of imitation smiles towards the town hall, having early found a black peacoat sitting in the master bedroom closet waiting for him expectantly. once prepared, he slips into the crowd inconspicuously and listens as the various announcers prattle on. he's surprised to find he's not the only one without a smile, noting dale harding early on but losing the chance later to talk to him as he quickly departs present company. now that the stage is empty, he can't help but feel watched by the glassy eyes around him, even as they talk to themselves. he begins to wonder idly if they were once people like him before this town really got its claws into them.

it's an opportunity to leave. he didn't exactly get any of the information he might have wanted, but he did get a list of names, at the very least: dale harding, phillip clarke, someone named cathy, seemingly a member of the happy homes association, and another stranger named margie. that's enough for him to look into during the coming days, though the christmas trees for sale make him take pause. he's not one for celebrating himself, but the pictures on the wall at home remind him of his not-daughter, the odd little girl named kipo, who very obviously wasn't his, and very obviously wasn't one of them. still, she was young and alone, living with a strange man who fancied dressing up as a bat at night to beat criminals to a pulp, so perhaps a small tree at least would bring her a sense of normalcy. he hadn't bothered to ask her if she celebrated christmas where she was from. too late, anyhow, as he easily slung it over his shoulder and began the trek back home. ]


Christmas Village

[ the door to the garage leads him to the magical village, and he's not thrilled. not only to be teleported somewhere else unexpectedly-- a new variable to worry about, to be certain-- but also that everyone else here that isn't one of the shambling masses seem so cavalier about it. on the plus side, he hasn't found any razor blades in the food yet, something he has a distant memory of, like a dream, yet can remember vividly, but he also only ever spectates areas like the frozen pond, workshops, or bar. there's a creeping sensation that something will inevitably go wrong with all of this, though that moment never comes, and he'll wonder briefly whether this feeling is a consequence of this new place, or something ingrained into him from experiences back home in gotham... ]

The Mayor Has Invited You

[ likewise with the village and all of the other events, bruce will attend the gala for information. to familiarize himself with his surroundings and the people who don't seem to be just smiling emptily at him or offering him plates of jello. well, they might do that too, but at least they'll have something more to say to him than small talk about the weather. for how overtly suspicious the whole disturbance of being brought to santa rosita has been, these past few days have been anything but, putting him on edge; like they're all standing in the eye of the storm and they can't notice what's staring right at them.

but much to the chagrin of the HHA, he's bruce wayne, and while you might have expected him to look awful in some off the rack sears roebuck blazer, he instead looks incredible, floral pattern and all. it's very hard to make the billionaire-- or ex-billionaire-- look bad in a suit, and he wasn't about to start today. but throughout the night, as with santa's wondrous village, you'll find him teetering on the outskirts of the gala, watching instead of participating, lest he call more attention to himself than he wants. after all, a big red fucking blazer was more indiscreet than his usual black... ]


Wildcard

[ bruce is a scrooge! these prompts not doing it for you? feel free to throw absolutely anything at me, or message me on [plurk.com profile] BATGUY if you'd like me to write you a closed prompt or if you'd like to plan something specific! BAH HUMBUG! ]
fanoperator: (i don't know)

alight

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-02 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
[Huaisang looks helplessly bewildered at the advice, since part of him certainly agrees with it. This isn't how he wants to spend his money, and yet here he is, waiting in line to spend far too much on an ugly metal tree.] Were you not here in October?

[Of the variety of strange things that Huaisang learned in that dream month, the most important was that the trappings of the holiday will offer some protection against the horrors that this place disgorges. At least, he hopes that's the case.] I'm only going to get a little one.
thotsandprayers: (Repented seen the light made a switch)

Kiara Sessyoin | Fate/Grand Order

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-02 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
Tree Lighting

[So that was her first tree lighting ceremony and like a lot of things going on, Kiara's really not sure what to make of all that. That mayor's speech was...well, she's not troubled by it or anything, it's just odd. She really isn't sure how she feels about that talk of tradition and enduring. Though who knows? Maybe that's normal for here? She's a little skeptical about it being normal elsewhere, but she's hardly an expert on these things.

Aside from those thoughts, she's busy waiting in line for one of the trees. She's not sure if her “husband” will be getting one as well, but since the line's huge, this seems like the best chance to make conversation with anyone else, really.]


I had no idea purchasing a Christmas tree was such an...experience.

[That seems as good a way as any to start a conversation if you ask her.]

Christmas Village

[And the new experiences just keep coming as opening a door and suddenly Christmas is definitely one of them. Though she's not really terribly concerned about it. She knows full well that there are way more unusual things to experience. So getting here was a bit strange, but it could be worse! She's sure she'll be fine and has little to worry about with this.

Of particular interest to her are things like ice skating, she's never done that before, so she's definitely curious enough to put on a pair of skates and give it a try. Also the reindeer. She's never seen one in person before (the reindeer man enemies during events back home don't count!)! So she'll take a moment to marvel at them pulling the sleigh. But really, she'll take a look at a lot of the activities whenever she ends up here.

Alternatively, feel free to catch her walking back towards town! She's less happy about that one. Not terribly upset or anything, but really, a return door would've been nice.]


Gala

[She'll be attending this as well, having found a dress in her closet that's the proper colors, sparing her from the loaner ones. Neither really suit her taste in fashion, but that's to be expected really.

The party seems pleasant enough to her, for what it's worth. Not that she has much experience with these sort of things. She's not really a stranger to festivities or anything like that, they're just less formal.]


So the village was his idea? How generous.

[That seems to be her takeaway from the whole thing while she drinks a glass of punch. She seems amused by the idea. It's not like she can really complain about it or anything as she did have fun, but she does wonder if it being his idea includes the odd door situation as well.]

Wildcard

[If none of these work for you, feel free to run into her anywhere during the event really. I'm at [plurk.com profile] opticblast if you want to work out anything specific.
interdicted: (Default)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ The person behind them makes a half-hearted comment about, "Hey, get in line!"

Wolfe ignores that. ]


I woke up here four days ago. What happened in October?

[ Gallium trees instead? ]
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

107 loomis drive

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-02 06:09 am (UTC)(link)
Kids these days. Overactive imagination.

[ he gives the staring neighbors an apathetic look, like he himself is barely trying to maintain this facade, but he does unceremoniously toss kipo over his shoulder and bring her back inside and set her down to gently scold her like an... actual dad. ]

What part of low profile didn't you get?
fanoperator: (oh no)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-02 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
[Huaisang, however, gives the person behind them an apologetic smile and reaches for the stranger's hand.] He's with me.

[Eyes growing a little wider, Huaisang looks helplessly up at Wolfe.] My memory is so strange here... I'm just not sure...

[He wants to cover for how he's just claimed this total stranger as his friend, and to dispel attention from the two of them, so he takes shelter in performed confusion.] I had this dream about being here for a whole other month, in October, and at the end of it there were these... monsters. Undead children. They attacked any house that didn't have a carved and lit pumpkin lantern. Isn't that funny?

[If Wolfe hasn't pulled his hand away, Huaisang gives it a tight squeeze.] So I just thought... I wouldn't want to pass up getting a tree. It's important to participate in the local traditions and festivities.
sunborne: (415. - 🧭 - FOOLING AROUND.)

( tree lighting! )

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-02 06:15 am (UTC)(link)
Definitely a lot more competitive than I thought it would be.

[ daylight was passing by the line, having helped a family load their tree to their car just now, when he hears the comment and can't help himself in adding his own two cents.

while looking over at the impressive line, all for the coveted trees, he adds, ]
The most we had back in my hometown were, like, little stands and stuff. Maybe a marker to place gifts. Having a sparkly silvery tree is definitely attention-grabbing.
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

The Gala

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-02 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah, I know.

[ it's obvious she's not alright, no point in asking the obvious. instead, he offers nothing else besides a hand, his rough, deep voice possibly shaking her from her reverie and bordering on something familiar. bruce might not have a beard, but that combination of tall, dark, and broody fits him like an old sweater. ]
sunborne: (402. - 🧭 - SNARKER.)

( christmas trees! )

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-02 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
Sure! No problem at all, buddy.

[ it takes some effort - he's not exactly nightbreak and he's now in a human body, flesh limitations and all - but daylight is able to hoist the tree up. ] The little trees weren't enough in the pizazz department for you, I reckon?
sunborne: (402. - 🧭 - SNARKER.)

( alight! )

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-02 06:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ daylight flashes a bright smile in response, shrugging casually as he sets back down the funky little tree he had been inspecting. ]

Doesn't hurt to look like I'm trying to act the way they want me to. [ he's used to doing that back home, unknowingly or not. ] Get on their good side and get more chances to have some leeway in the future. Gotta give the locals a reason to not immediately jump my bones in a bad way, you know?

I take that you're not planning to get one for yourself? [ this is asked in a quiet voice, not wanting others nearby to overhear this bit of the conversation. one of the things daylight immediately picked up is that the people here are quick to jump on any boat rocking. ]
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

tree lighting

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-02 07:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ bruce hides his hands in his pockets, though the cold doesn't seem to bother him. and while he's acknowledged her, he hasn't quite stopped scanning the crowd. for what? well, it was anyone's guess, but he was certainly fastidious about it. ]

No. But these days, I guess I'm open to anything.
Edited 2020-12-02 07:17 (UTC)
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-02 07:33 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh good. Sans gives it another couple of moments before he picks himself up off the ground, to really sell the exhaustion. (It's never hard for him to sell exhaustion.)]

Hey, thanks, buddy. [Actually, this guy looks familiar. Someone from October? Sans still isn't sure what happened to November, but he definitely remembers gelatin being involved. But it'll be weird if he starts just--talking about that. He still doesn't know why he even remembers October.] When you see a tree that's basically made of tinsel? You gotta go with the full size.
feudalladyshandmaid: (Drawn)

a

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2020-12-02 10:06 am (UTC)(link)
[Unfortunately for Cassandra, she has most definitely not gotten past the whole fake life thing. Not at all; her mind reels at the mere thought of a life in a house she's never seen before, married to a man she'd never met before. But she's a smart girl. She can figure things out, given enough time.

Time was on her side. It's just about the only thing that was. The world outside the windows was completely different from the world Cassandra had just been in. Filled with things she has no doubt never seen.

She just had to be calm. Think it through. Plan a strategy. Deal with the guy coming in through her kitchen window - Wait, what?

Ah. Well. Good news: this place is stocked in frying pans. Which is what Archer is seeing on his way in; held aloft by a young raven-haired woman.
]

And who said you could come in here?
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (11)

Awaken!

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-02 10:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wrathion has felt afraid before.

Several times in his life, Wrathion has been afraid.

He'd felt fear, and he'd even felt helpless. Xanesh in particular had made him feel helpless quite recently, her dark magic trapping him as part of her unpleasant ritual.

Wrathion wakes up sharply, and instantly several things become apparent. One, he's in an unfamiliar place. Two, his senses are being blocked -- somehow? He cannot sense anything at all? They must be blocked. Three, he --

The slow, curling sense of panic as he rips himself out of bed escalates as he walks past a mirrored surface. Pauses. Backs up, and stares at his reflection.

His eyes no longer their distinctive glowing red, instead he thinks what the mortals call... hazel, with odd little flecks of gold. Why? His eyes are a distinctive show of his flight! With a sense of dread hollowing out his stomach, Wrathion lifts a hand and tries to pool fire into it.

Nothing happens.

He's been bound. Bound, presumably, by some of N'Zoth's agents. How could he be so careless? He paces onward through the peculiar house, only half paying attention to the array of personal items and photographs. Whatever games are being played with him, he refuses to submit! The sound of a voice (calling... names? For someone else? Irrelevant, he won't be tricked!) draws his attention sharply, and he stands braced for a fight in the living room.

It might be a more intimidating presence if he weren't reduced to a human form, in striped pyjamas. ]


Cease these games!

[ He tries for full confidence, head held high, as if he could actually do anything about this. Perhaps he could. An improvised weapon, since he cannot cast? ]

I will not be enslaved again for your master's dark purpose. Release me!
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (8)

Christmas Village

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-02 11:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wrathion is cold.

The temperature isn't, all in all, the coldest climate he's ever been in -- however previously he'd been a dragon. A dragon who breathes fire. He'd been comfortably warm all the time, and now he's unfortunately stuck with no magic. Even the normal bright red glow of his eyes has been reduced down to to a dark, gold-flecked hazel. Said eyes currently are sporting a grumpy sort of frown.

He's also not really... dressed for the cold. Wrathion is sporting jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. The t-shirt has short sleeves. If he had any idea who Marlon Brando was, he'd realise his wardrobe was aiming for a very particular look. ]


I... had been hoping for something warmer.

[ Wrathion is eyeing the bar. Perhaps some of the mulled wine Sans is drinking, or the hot chocolate? Something to make his hands, currently shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, feel warmer.

He could zip up this jacket, yes, but it would ruin the aesthetic. We all have priorities. ]
sunborne: (408. - 🧭 - PALS.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-02 11:34 am (UTC)(link)
Long as you're willing to clean up the debris this might shed off. Even I don't think I'm that nice to help you out with that if you asked me.

[ maybe. ]

Daylight, by the way. [ he pauses, waiting to see what the reaction would be before he moves on, ] Daylight vis Lornlit. Nice to meet you.

[ again, he doesn't add. he swears this guy looks familiar but he doesn't want to say anything yet. daylight, believe it or not, is trying to be careful as possible with what he talks about and who he speaks to. ]
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (13)

Tree-Lighting Ceremony

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-02 01:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Wrathion is not, exactly, in the queue. He's more curiously patrolling up and down the queue, eyeing the trees and trying to decide how he feels about the whole affair. Of course, Winter Veil trees are something he's familiar with -- why this place has renamed the festival he's not entirely sure. Then again, this whole... realm is a little off in that regard.

"Fascinating, aren't they?"

He glances sideways at Huaisang, his normally bright red eyes reduced to a less intimidating gold-flecked hazel.

"Ugly, too, but that seems to be the fashion here."

A controversial opinion. Then again, Wrathion is apparently reduced to rebellious teenager here. His black leather jacket hangs open over a plain white t-shirt. The jacket itself is... tolerable, but he's not a fan of jeans so far.
demonicmiracle: (095)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2020-12-02 01:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Eh, close enough.

[He gives her a few moments of privacy to light the cigarette and catch her breath, focusing on taking a drag from his own cigarette, blowing the smoke up into the air.

Belatedly, it occurs to him that if she tries to nick his cigarettes or lighter, he won't be able to do much to stop her, but he supposes that's a risk that comes along with being human.]


They give you a hard time about your suit?

[Maybe that's the reason she was so eager to get away from the party. People can get nasty about these sorts of things, it's why he'd gone along with what's expected of him, even if he might've been more comfortable in a suit himself.]
shalamayne: (Default)

[personal profile] shalamayne 2020-12-02 02:48 pm (UTC)(link)
For the attention of one Sir Claus.

I would humbly request that my sword, Shalamayne, is returned if at all possible. Not only is it a weapon but a family heirloom and something I always keep close to my side.

Most kind and honourable regards,
Anduin Wrynn.
thevalley: (pew pew)

Dec 1.

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-02 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[The first thing Ellie does is find some clothes. None of the dresses in the closet work (like seriously? How could you ever be safe enough to wear something like that?), so she takes what she can from the other side of the closet. At least there's jeans and a t-shirt.

So looking like the world's least threatening Greaser, Ellie makes her way down into the kitchen where someone is cooking, which is somehow more disturbing than if the house was quiet. The idea of dropping her guard is unthinkable.

Dropping low, she moves into the kitchen, reaching over to grab a knife from the block, and then pressing the tip into the back of the man at the stove as she stands.]


Hands up. Step back and away from the stove.
thevalley: (Default)

abstain

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-02 03:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Not fucking likely.

[Ellie replies, slightly under her breath but loud enough for him to know she's responding to him.

She doesn't really have strong feelings on Christmas but this seems well, like fucking overkill.]
thevalley: (WHAT IF WE MADE OUT IN THE CHAZ)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-02 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)
...No.

[She says, like now that he mentions it, it actually is a little surprising. All the other women were dolled up in dresses that made her skin crawl to imagine wearing.

She exhales on the cigarette.]


No one said anything at all.

[She lets that hang in the air as she hands the lighter back.]

Even fucking weirder.
demonicmiracle: (049)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2020-12-02 03:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[Crowley tucks the lighter away once it's returned, trying not to think about how he never needed to carry one, until now.]

How modern of them.

[There's a slightly sarcastic drawl on the word, because really, the bar is so low.]

Looks nice, though, even with the festive colors. [It's a mild compliment, he doesn't want to give the impression he's like, hitting on her. Satan forbid.] Don't blame you for wanting to avoid a skirt, petticoats are a bloody nightmare.
interdicted: (pic#14489657)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It clicks for Wolfe immediately—between the way the young man is immediately braced for a fight and his own wariness and anger, the way he's referencing Wolfe's "master's dark purpose"? Clearly he doesn't know anything about who Wolfe is, or he'd know that the Library's dark purpose is to kill him. The gods know they've tried enough times. ]

I have nothing to do with this. We were both brought here against our wills and if you want to figure out what's going on, you'll stop revealing yourself as out of place every time you open your mouth.

[ It's punctuated with a sharp glower—Wolfe has no patience for nonsense. ]

My name is Christopher Wolfe. I'll ask you one more time for yours.