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?

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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?

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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!

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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
demonicmiracle: (113)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2020-12-09 01:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[Crowley, a petty bastard, mutters poor analysis back to himself in obvious mockery of Wolfe, though it doesn't stop him from listening.

He thinks Wolfe's full of shit, though.]


So, what, this weird as shit town just happened to already exist, and we just happened to wake up here, totally coincidentally?

[He finds that hard to believe, mostly because there's very few forces that can kidnap a demon, and none of them can take his powers.]

Never mind the fact we can't get out. It's cause there's nothing on the other side of that tunnel. You want to talk parallel universes, I'd bet this is a pocket dimension of some sort.

[That makes sense to him.]
demonicmiracle: (113)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2020-12-09 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[Crowley scoffs at that, already dismissive of the concept of caring about the neighbour's opinion.]

Oh, please, what sort of — [Demon. But he has to swerve at the last second when he realizes he isn't talking to someone who knows what he is.] — queer would I be if I didn't cause a little uproar with the neighbours?

[In all honesty, he tends to skirt under the radar when it comes to that sort of business, because it's easy to do when he can divert people's attention and make them believe anything he wants them to, but he is used to causing problems on purpose, so this isn't too far off. And he's not worried about it, really, despite the sixties attitudes overall, everyone has been... surprisingly chill.]

And I think pantsuit were more the eighties, with those awful shoulder pads. Not worried about me showing you up if we both wear suits, are you?

[He's so rude.]
petsthedog: (pic#12817845)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-09 02:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[Yeah he's pretty sure that's still just grape juice, but.]

.........Sure.
petsthedog: (pic#12716965)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-09 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)
It's whatever, I ain't fussed about it if you ain't.

[So far, he sees no reason to have a problem with this guy, anyway. But he hasn't shared a living space with anyone but other teens since the orphanage, so it's gonna be some weird growing pains, he's pretty sure.]

Long as we're clear that you ain't my dad and I ain't your kid, I don't really care. Your business's yours, mine's mine.

[He wishes he still had an oversized coat to shove his hands into tbh...it feels weird to be without one. As for the question...he frowns.]

I uh. I'm not sure. I thought I heard a kid call out, but ....I kinda figured it was just in my head.

[He was bleeding out in an alley at the time so it wasn't an unreasonable assumption.]
Edited 2020-12-09 15:45 (UTC)
petsthedog: (pic#12817773)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-09 03:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's genuinely just, the longest silence.]

I legit can't tell if you're messing with me right now or if you're actually serious.
petsthedog: (pic#12716680)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-09 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[He thinks he'd have been less disturbed by a gunshot, honestly. It'd make sense; people were shitty, and killing people who were inconvenient came easily to some. For all his personal baggage, he's not even sure it's kinder to let someone live in a state like what he saw. He wonders if that man had a choice.

He doesn't have much of a show to put on for any passerby, aside from token teenagerish grumbling about the lame party the old guy is trying to drag him to, but it's dropped almost immediately upon getting away from the main hub of activity.]


There was some guy who didn't wanna wear their shit. They did something to him, and now he's like one of those fuckin' happiness zombies around town.
ribticklers: (128)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-09 04:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sans holds out a hand expectantly. Cash first.]
undiagnosed: (pic#14468841)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 05:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ever petty, he kicks some snow over aziraphale's shoe.]

Do I dress like I'm from here? Come on.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468826)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 05:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Uh, yeah, ditto. [that makes two on them on both occasions; archer himself sometimes doesn't even know what the purpose of half the shit he says is.] Seriously? Damn, I thought you'd run off past the pasture ages ago...

[guess it makes sense if she didn't really know what the cars were. archer doesn't think about it too hard; not his problem. he fiddles with the keys for a moment before he remembers they haven't invented keyfobs yet, cursing under his breath and shoving them haphazardly into the door.]

Come on, then. I'll take you to the store so you can do your... wifely duties.
13thcommander: (serious side-eye)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 05:45 pm (UTC)(link)
And yet they didn't put you and your brother, or Levi and I, in the same house, just in close proximity. And then paired us up with strangers and told us we were married...

[It just keeps getting weirder and creepier the more he thinks about it.]

Were you assigned a wife as well?
13thcommander: (considering)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)
In my world, humanity was confined behind three Walls: Maria, Rose, and Sina. Some people believed that goddesses built the walls to keep us safe, and worshipped the walls as if they were the goddesses themselves.

[From his tone, it's pretty clear that Erwin thinks that's nonsense.]

The Walls weren't built by goddesses. It was an act of man that did it.
ribticklers: (132)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-09 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah. Nobody I knew, though. No kids, at least. It's bad enough to spring a marriage on a guy, y'know? [The whole situation is so weird, joking about it just comes naturally. Also, if Sans thinks of it even a little seriously, he feels incredibly uncomfortable about the whole thing.] What about you?
13thcommander: (yeah yeah tell me more)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 05:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[Since she's not a local, when the topic comes up, Erwin will give her the real answer about his arm, and not the nonsense World War II story he's been giving to locals.]

There does. May I ask if any of the other recent transplants are from your home world?

[As an afterthought, he answers his own question for her.]

My friend Levi is here from my world, but no one else.
13thcommander: (depression smile)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[Erwin smiles a little, and reaches out to touch the back of Levi's hand, where it's splayed out on the table.]

I know. I've never doubted it.

[There are certain constants in Erwin's world, and Levi and he being a team is one of them. He can't imagine a world where they didn't work together, where they weren't at each other's sides through whatever storms came their way.]

So it sounds like we, at least, remember a shared October. I haven't seen anyone else I knew from that time yet, but if I do, I'll find out if they remember me. Will you do the same?
13thcommander: (uuuuuuuh)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 06:02 pm (UTC)(link)
You think so?

[That gives Erwin pause. As far as he knows, he's never given off creepy old man vibes. He's so used to being perceived as charming and thoughtful that the idea people could be seeing him as anything but is a new one.]

[He turns to stand with his back to the wall, next to Levi, so he can survey the room.
]

What else have you noticed?
13thcommander: (meh)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 06:09 pm (UTC)(link)
It seems more likely than both our minds creating the same image simultaneously, doesn't it?

[That probably isn't reassuring, so Erwin tries again.]

I can describe what I see, and you can decide if it's what you see as well, all right?

[And Erwin spends the next few moments quietly describing the scene before them. He doesn't have the vocabulary to specifically name some of the things, but he has a quick mind and explains them as best he can. While he's talking, he moves closer, positioning himself next to Peter, and slowly and carefully winds his arm through one of Peter's.]

I'm afraid I don't know what a Looney Toons is. But these doors do lead to that place we're seeing.

[To demonstrate, Erwin extends one leg, and the toe of his boot goes through the door smoothly, no brick wall in sight.]
undiagnosed: (pic#14468787)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 06:11 pm (UTC)(link)
For my job, sure. [archer's suffered just about every injurt a human can possibly suffer and not die, though how he's done that and not learned anything about self-preservation is anyone's guess.] Which-- is legal, by the way. I'm not some... criminal. Anymore.

[archer snorts a laugh at the question, looking over his shoulder like shinjiro just suggested the sky is orange.]

Seriously?
13thcommander: (definitely 100% NOT a crazy person)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 06:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[Oh hell yeah, someone else is taking notes? Erwin brightens visibly when he sees the notebook, and he steps in closer to get a look at it. He can't read what's written there, but the mere fact that Wolfe has it delights him.]

Shall we compare notes, then?

[Erwin pulls a small, battered notebook out of his pocket. The writing in this one is a bizarre hybrid of German and Japanese, completely illegible to everyone but himself and Levi. Beyond that, Erwin's handwriting is absolutely awful, and looks more like chicken scratches than actual words.]

Perhaps if we combine what we've gathered, a pattern might appear?
13thcommander: (slightly walleyed)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-09 06:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Myself as well. I didn't know her before either.

[He wonders what happened to Cortana, but he hasn't seen her around the town.]

It seems wildly unfair to the women, don't you think? I don't care for the power dynamics at play here.

[Erwin, of course, is no threat to Cassandra, and he thinks Sans is probably safe for his wife as well, but it's still a shitty thing to do to a woman.]
undiagnosed: (pic#14468804)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Which I assume you'll be throwing into the garbage. Jesus Christ. [he shoots back with a barbed tone, never one for letting sleeping dogs (spiders?) lie.] I mean, I don't know. Have you felt drugged after eating or drinking anything?

[it seems like a lot of effort to go to. himself and ray archer can understand, but everyone else? what's so special about them?]
undiagnosed: (pic#14468686)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 06:29 pm (UTC)(link)
You just answered most of them! [he almost yells, absolutely delighted at the permission to go to town on it.] I mean, and also--

[hang on. he's ducked behind it to start grabbing bottles to decide what he wants to drink.]

--So, what, you're in that Housing Association or something?
freeflight: (Default)

[personal profile] freeflight 2020-12-09 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Levi clicks his tongue and shakes his head. Don’t start taking the bullshit that comes out of his mouth too seriously now. ]

Few things. None of them good. [ He leans towards him, keeping his voice low. ] Couldn’t take a real look around earlier, that drunk asshole’s got enough watchmen posted that I pulled out. [ Dressed like this? His chances were slim enough that he knew Erwin wouldn’t let him try the odds. ] Wasn’t the only one trying it either.
fanoperator: (spook)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-09 06:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[Huaisang isn't sure how he gave Wolfe the idea that he has answers. Offering an apologetic grimace, he shrugs.] I don't know.

[His old familiar catchphrase is hardly comforting at this time. Wolfe's assessment seems right in the us-vs-them regard of the situation. There were confused people from a variety of worlds, and then there were the too-happy, extra-compliant locals. The only unhappiness Huaisang had seen any of the locals exhibit was from that guardsman, the one who sighed and grimaced and sipped from a flask. It made Huaisang wonder whether he fell on the side of the us.]
fanoperator: (thinkin real hard)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-09 07:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Is there enough left to get you that much drunker? [Huaisang wants to ask what a 'cab' is but he's learning that Archer is not great at answering those questions.]

I don't understand why there's no liquor in this festival place. You think they'd recognize the business opportunity.
fanoperator: (lip bite)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-09 07:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Huaisang finds it quite easy to tell the locals from the newcomers. The locals have that empty cheer all the time, unquestioning, with a sort of awful blankness behind their eyes which Huaisang tries not to let himself think of as horror.

"You're not very festive," Huaisang points out. "You have to be festive to blend in. And get a tree." It's important, he thinks. Blending in. Being festive. Getting a tree. It kept him safe in October--relatively so, anyway. It will keep him safe again.