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
sunborne: (369. - 🧭 - PEEK-A-BOO.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-06 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[ in reply, he makes a vague wriggling gesture with an outstretched hand of his, causing the coffee* he's holding to spill out of the mug. ]

Depends on the location, I guess? [ like, for example: ] My last actual place I could call home, place of residence at least, we'd have a party for all the greenies. Then we greenies would end up sparring with each other in this huge pileup.

If we're going to get beaten up, might as well have everyone make sure they're on the same page?

[ * - hopefully it's coffee? the consistency of liquid shouldn't be that thick. ]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SPARKLE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-06 05:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah, because they're all in uniform... That makes sense to me!

[Papyrus leads the way down the path, looking for signs of elf costumes - preferably worn by people not busy talking to anyone else. He might never be calm, with how his energy shifts from one goal to another, but he's less worked up. There's reassurance to be had in concluding that things are not his fault, in being able to cast the blame elsewhere. Better still when he can lay those complaints at the door of a proper authority, meant to take responsibility for things, instead of random employees.

And when that's not an option, there's always blaming Sans.]
fanoperator: (shy glance)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-06 06:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"Are you sure you won't mind?" Huaisang asks, wanting to be polite and yet eager for the offered warmth. "I'd be very grateful." He shivers again, unable to help it. Nylon stockings don't do much to keep in the warmth, so his legs especially are practically bare, and he wonders if this is how he's going to die: freezing to death at a festive false village.

"I can't find any doors leading back or any other magical works in this place. If we're not counting the electricity." That's definitely magic in Huaisang's opinion, but it seems to be the only reliably magic thing in this world. Everything else is variable at best, and none of his own charms work at all. "I suppose we're going to have to walk back."
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (13)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-06 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Beyond the 'hot snow cone' situation?

Yes. The idea that this person is new, however, does go some way to alleviating his mild irritation over it. Other new people might be like himself, after all. ]


The customs are... familiar, and yet equally different. I admit, this move was unexpected.

[ A mild, conversational way of alluding to the abrupt way he woke up here. ]
righthandstand: (smug anime boy)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-06 07:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[Nothing has ever stopped Okuyasu from eating free food, and weird American cuisine isn't any different. He wiggles the fork in above his head to give Daylight a better view of his delicious meal.]

So? Sometimes food sounds like it's gonna suck and then it doesn't, like spaghetti with a bunch of spice that ends up being the best Italian dish you ever ate.

[But not all cooks are Tonio. Okuyasu jams the entire thing in his mouth and immediately gags.]
chromiums: (ld14469653)

[personal profile] chromiums 2020-12-06 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)
God, I hope. [ come to think of it, she doesn't feel any sort of lingering effects from eating the poisoned candy either. which is as much of a relief as it is disturbing.

lorna starts searching through the closets and drawers, trying to find things for both of them to wear and talking as she moves. ]


All right, here's my plan: we look through town to see if there's anyone we recognize. If what we remember is right, we're bound to run into one of them at a block party or something.

[ finding a sweater and pair of slacks that look like they'll fit him in the first closet she looks in, she pulls them free and tosses them to him. or onto his bed, wherever they happen to land. ]

Is there anyone you knew from before you were here that was around?
righthandstand: or cautiously watching while eating Italian (popcorning)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-06 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Man, that's look great on my house. [The one in Japan, of course.] And they're lettin' you make that stuff for free?
fanoperator: (puzzled)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-06 07:11 pm (UTC)(link)
"Wrathion," Huaisang repeats carefully. The local language falls easily from his tongue, but there's still a hint of an accent in there, and he struggles especially when it comes to slang or to words that aren't the American English loaded into his mind.

The name means nothing to him, and Huaisang has discarded his own titles and his traditional forms of greeting. Sect Leader Nie Huaisang of Qinghe carries no influence here, and he's supposed to be Mrs. Shurley. The locals only seem to grow confused when he introduces himself as Nie Huaisang, so he's stopped. Huaisang, just Huaisang. No longer bound to the sect he always chafed within.

He misses home so much it aches.

"It's pleasant to meet you," Huaisang says, ducking his head shyly. "You do certainly stand out as ... perhaps not local." As does Huaisang, he knows. He hasn't yet met anyone here who looks like him.
chromiums: (ld14454953)

christmas eve will find me | a

[personal profile] chromiums 2020-12-06 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ lorna is half-jewish herself, but after her parents had died her aunt had always tried overcompensating during the winter holidays. hanukkah was observed and celebrated, but there was always something done on christmas, too; a family dinner and a special present reserved for that day. there's no way of knowing if she's doing the same thing for dawn, or if it's even december there, but she hopes that tradition's continued for her, even if she's still too small to know what's happening.

she comes across peter after a while of trying to figure out how she wound up in this winter wonderland and how she can get out of it, and she's not close enough to hear what he's muttering to himself, but she can see that he looks pretty distressed, even from a distance. he may not be her 'child' anymore, but she still feels a surge of protective defensiveness and seeing him upset has her running up to him, trying to get him to look at her. ]


Peter? It's Lorna. [ kind of bold of her to assume he'll know who she is, but he clearly needs help even if he doesn't. ]
righthandstand: (I feel you not so deeply)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-06 07:37 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, but isn't it expensive to decorate all the houses with that? I thought Americans had to use real trees for Christmas." At least based what he saw in movies.
fanoperator: (unexpected)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-06 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Fully drilled into their core. I can draw you a map if it helps.

[He reaches for the thermos, interested in the real priorities here.] May I have more?
righthandstand: (think think think)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-06 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)
I live on Kar...Karlov? [It's some kind of name Okuyasu never heard of.] With some other people that don't know what we're doing here.

[...Right, since they are now friends, he should introduce himself.]

Everyone says my last name is O'Hara now, but I'm actually Okuyasu Nijimura.
righthandstand: (sure jan)

C

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-06 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[Who is this lady? Why does he even have to listen to her?

Okuyasu keeps his eyes locked on Cassandra as he slowly picks up a plate of innocuous-looking cake. His expression says it all: watch me.]
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-06 09:58 pm (UTC)(link)
You could try. Want me to break your hand?

[ god, and bruce thought he had an ego sometimes. this guy was just full of himself. ]

I don't need help.
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-06 10:03 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not a bad idea. In fact, my guess is that Harding will be the more forthcoming of the two, though that might not be saying much.

[ he presses his face lightly into her hand, picking his cup up to take a sip while he watches her. ]

No, you're not wrong. People were only ever interested in my charm because of my money, but I'd rather take on Clarke myself. I think talking to him immediately would be a mistake, so I'll have to make myself valuable to him first.
Edited (sentence structure) 2020-12-06 22:04 (UTC)
freeflight: (063)

C

[personal profile] freeflight 2020-12-06 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Where some people have actually been engaging, Levi’s been spending most of his time slouched against a wall. Still, it’s too suspicious if he just keeps to himself the whole time, and that’s what has him at one of the concessions tables.

And there’s Erwin’s ‘wife’ keeping track of shit. Cassandra’s cautious, too, which he can appreciate.
]

Can’t say I’m in a hurry to. [ Said just as quietly. He’s learned that lesson elsewhere in a bad way. ] I just need something in hand.
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-06 10:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Hey, me too. [It's not clear if Sans is referring to actual skating or whatever he's doing right now.] Easier'n walking, once you get used to it. Don't have to move your legs once you get going. [The laziest reason to skate.]
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-06 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, it ain't like I knew what to expect waking up like that again, but at least there's other people stuck in here too. It'd be pretty boring if it was just me. [It would be lonely, if it was just him.] If we hadn't all been kidnapped [and Sans was in his real body] and some of the neighbors weren't so weird, it'd almost be a nice place.
ribticklers: (129)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-06 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sans considers. Papyrus is still here, as far as Sans knows, but nothing weird has happened. Well, okay, a lot of weird has happened, but not dangerous weird. And Papyrus is an adult; he can handle a Gyftm--Christmas party.]

Yeah, sure. We showed up here for a little while, now we can ditch it. [Showing up, eating the food, and leaving is basically the bare minimum of being seen at a party, and Sans appreciates the bare minimum.] And I can ditch this outfit. [Formal clothing, still the worst.]
ribticklers: (127)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-06 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sans will lead the way! Because he has to, since he is carrying the front of the tree and also knows where his house is.] Yup. Well, at least until my bro complains about it. Then I'll have to double the lights.
ribticklers: (132)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-06 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
So you're sayin' you did have a sandwich ready for me. [But also Sans is going to eat the sandwich. Of course he is. This conversation has gotten off topic, but Sans really doesn't mind. This is so much easier.]
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-06 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
More of a kidnapping, right? [Sans winks.] But I figure I might as well make the best of that, too. [It's not like he can do anything about the situation, anyway.] This stuff ain't so bad. [He gestures with his normal, not-ruined-with-snow cup of alcohol-free mulled wine.]
ribticklers: (133)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-06 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[Look at that, Sans is going to get dressed in actual clothes today. He has to think about the question and the implications of saying anything.] Yeah, my bro should be--well, he was here. [Papyrus shouldn't be here any more than he or Lorna should be, but he was. And Sans knows, if Papyrus is here, that them being brothers isn't going to be a secret. Sans keeps a lot of secrets, but he knows he couldn't keep that one.] Taller'n me, and skinnier. Better hair, too. What about you?
bibliophilicbells: (035)

[personal profile] bibliophilicbells 2020-12-06 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[Plainly:] I'm English.

[Like.

That should explain all of this, really.]
feudalladyshandmaid: (Unamused)

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2020-12-06 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[Honestly, she's like 5'7". Which isn't extremely tall. You wanted tall, you went to Ingvarr.

She shakes her head. He doesn't even have the decency to hold his hands up. But he does look like someone that might know his way through a fight... or believe that he does. Halfway through the window like that put him at a distinct disadvantage either way.
]

Yeah, guess what? It's not. [she retorts, adding in a roll of her eyes.] It's not really mine either, but if I'm supposed to live here then I'm not letting anyone just break in.