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 ◀
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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
freeflight: (075)

[personal profile] freeflight 2020-12-09 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes are drawn down to the table briefly before he looks back to his face. ]

You don’t need to ask. [ Why Erwin sometimes thinks to ask him something that would better be an order, he’s not sure. He doesn’t mind taking his direction, so that’s entirely redundant. ] I’ll report in if I learn anything.

[ Without Erwin’s leadership, he’d been adrift. Now he has an anchor beyond that vow he’d made years ago, and it’s steadying to have real purpose again. ]
handycapable: (it's all CGI these days)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-09 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ray wrinkles his nose slightly, admittedly at a loss of how to answer that question; he has both a sassy response and a more realistic one hovering on the tip of his tongue, cancelling each other out, so instead he just clears his throat with a prissy little huff and turns his attention to the impressive display of ties they're now passing. ]

That's between you and your own inner demons to work out.

[ He says it merrily, breezy, already looking at the various multi-colored offerings, but brushing off the remark with a dismissive flap of his wrist. ]

And please, who'm I trying to impress? It'll be enough of a miracle if I can just find a stiff drink tonight.
Edited 2020-12-09 21:04 (UTC)
undiagnosed: (pic#14468749)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 07:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Uh, yeah, you might wanna put a pin in that. I'm pretty sure some raccoons have been in your garbage. Though... Jesus, you think they drug up the animals here, too?

[that insult goes right over archer's head, or at the very least he deigns not respond to it.]

No. I just like to run the risk of severe lacerations.
shalamayne: (Default)

[personal profile] shalamayne 2020-12-09 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"No, I don't mind, I have other things underneath." Anduin doesn't mind a little bit of cold if it meant the person he was walking with didn't freeze! He shrugs out of his jacket, offering it up for Huaisang to slip their arms into.

"Electricity certainly is strange, I'm thankful it's more stable that what I've seen in other places." The young king corrects his wording at the last minute, changing from back home before anyone can overhear it. Goblins and gnomes have been known to use lightning for some things but it's never truly ended well for anything involved and so in Azeroth fire is the main source of lighting. It's just safer that way.

"We can walk back together if you would like that. And you never know, sometimes the answer can show up when you're not looking for it."
shalamayne: (6-3)

[personal profile] shalamayne 2020-12-09 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Once Anduin finds a proper library he will probably be rarely seen again. He likes his studies and knowing what is going on, it's just unfortunate this place seems to have blindsided him in that regard.

As for the semi-lecture, Anduin doesn't mind it, expression studious as he listens to what is being said. He's thankful for information, even if others aren't so keen to hear such things.]


I see. There is no harm in learning more cultures, the more the merrier some would say. [ He pauses, giving a nod at the mention of Santa Rosita. There are so many people that seem to have turned up at the same time yet others act like it's completely normal, as if they've always been here. It's jarring in it's bluntness.] You can add one to the list you have met. Anduin Wrynn, at your service.
shalamayne: (32)

[personal profile] shalamayne 2020-12-09 08:00 pm (UTC)(link)
"I know of it, though it is not the same one where my own house is."

The walk is fine, Anduin doesn't need to point that out as he skates to the exit for the rink. It isn't that far away and he turns to look over at Wrathion. Surely he can manage that small distance? Dragons had to have some kind of balance or they wouldn't be good at flying, right?

Anduin has to admit he isn't sure and a part of him is fascinated to see how Wrathion does. It's a nicer feeling than the mild exasperation that seems to follow in Wrathion's wake.

"Lead the way."
undiagnosed: (pic#14468680)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[and sans taking the tree means that if anyone stops them, then he's the one incriminated here. archer can just play the "i don't know him" card. oldest trick in the book. probably.]

You poor soul. I'll get my coat.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468709)

cw mild religious disparagement

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-09 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
No... I'm running out. Couldn't even keep my buzz up at this rate. [he mutters lightly, then glances back to huaisang.] Probably some religious shit. It's always religious shit.

[finally archer stands, leaning heavily on his cane with the hand not gripping the thermos.]

Swear to God if we get back then end up in this place again I'm literally going to murder a couple of Santa's elves.
monomachy: wondie @ dw (trouble)

i want you to know i'm 100% canon blind and did not plan that lmao

[personal profile] monomachy 2020-12-09 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[If she'd been at her full strength, she would have heard a change in his heartbeat, or perhaps the shift of his body as his muscles tensed. As things stand, she only knows of the pain she's somehow inflicted by the look in his eyes, there and gone so quickly that she thinks she might have imagined it.

But no--she can see the tension in his shoulders as he finally speaks, and his words only confirm that she's injured him. The corners of her lips turn downwards, but she cannot figure out what it is she's said wrong. Well, the damage is done now, and all she can do is try to tread lightly. She isn't here to make enemies, only to try and find a way home.]


My experience with scholars has been varied.

[She won't mention that for most of her life, those scholars were thousands of years old, pondering philosophy even older than that.]

Would you tell me of yours?

[Not only is she curious, but it might help her suss out what she's said to offend him.]
thevalley: (cautious)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-09 09:58 pm (UTC)(link)
If you wanna call it that. [She shrugs. About to leave it because she feels like she can't remember what it's like to have conversations before she decides it's best to clarify.]

Where I come from, uh, most of humanity is dead. A virus wiped most of us out before I was born. So we do things... kinda the old fashioned way.
thevalley: (lookin at u fam)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-09 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Maybe.

[She sounds like she's certain. Still-]

You can use the alcohol and rags for first add too.
interdicted: (pic#14489659)

i was p sure that was the case so i was just CACKLING over here

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-09 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There's another slight pause before Wolfe speaks, a small, quick war playing out as he debates what is or isn't safe to say to this woman who is or isn't another of the town's strange inhabitants. But this conversation has already gone deeper than those he's had with the original residents—those don't go much deeper than, "What are you reading today, Mr. Wolfe?" and "Golly, back at it?"—and with her words and manner, Wolfe is damn sure he's reading intelligence beyond the townsfolk.

So then the question is how much to tell her, and that's made easy by their situation. ]


What do you know of the Great Library of Alexandria?

[ A question for a question—this will let him know how much he can safely say. ]
bibliophilicbells: (088)

[personal profile] bibliophilicbells 2020-12-09 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[He heaves a sigh, rolls his eyes, and sits back. Fine. Whatever.

Stupid.]


Yes, well. Lucky us. Where are you from?

[For no particular reason, he's suspecting... New York City.]
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-10 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
Wonderful.

[ he replies with a dry sarcasm to himself, a little inside joke before he jimmies the lock. once inside, he gently shuts the door and begins for a random filing cabinet. ]

I tried similar. Old microfilms. Blueprints of the city. I don't think we'll find much from the public. Whatever we want to see is going to be behind closed doors.
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-10 12:05 am (UTC)(link)
Public information beyond basic census reports is nonexistent, you're right. Whatever secrets they're hiding is rather blatant, in part because I don't think anybody here has the courage to ask.

[ he places his hands in his pocket, eyeing the smiling crowd, a sense of unease gnawing gently. ]

For good reason, I imagine.
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-10 12:07 am (UTC)(link)
Maybe. It's the other twenty I'm worried about.

[ he raises an eyebrow. she seems pretty feisty for a kid. kind of reminds him of jason someone. ]

But I'm not sure yet. Still, I think it's probably best to play along for now. Did you see the argument at coat check earlier?
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-10 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
I've had some experience with that sort of thing before. Nothing exactly like this, of course, but enough to raise my suspicions.

[ he casually passes a coy smile towards ray, charming despite his austerity. ]

Also enough to know that you probably do a little more than biochemical consultation.
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-10 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
I think it's safe to say he's probably hiding something.

[ he stares out into the crowd again, smiling and bubbly, though to a degree that seems practiced and ingenuine, like a scene in a play that had been rehearsed too much and lost its meaning. ]

Him and Harding both. Clarke's speech was a politicians, not something coerced. And Harding... well, he tried to make his drinking subtle, though I can't say he was very successful.
hoshikiri: (oka.)

[personal profile] hoshikiri 2020-12-10 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
Indeed. [Dour was more emotion than Takame expresses in two months. He had the stealth training. He could manage it without his soul crystal, but even that was too risky. Especially with how clumsy he still felt without a tail.]

Takame. And yours?
feudalladyshandmaid: (Think)

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2020-12-10 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
...Uh, sure. [Wait, no. That doesn't sound right.] Underground burrows... That's a new one. Can't say I've ever lived underground before.

[Huh.]

So, what are you doing above ground?
righteously: (¹⁵ Hᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ)

[personal profile] righteously 2020-12-10 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
Hardware store.

( Answered brightly, just a touch too satisfied. Not at her expense, he's just damn glad he's strapped and carrying. )

You 21?
righteously: (¹⁰ I sᴇᴇ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜᴏ̨ᴜᴀᴋᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛɴɪɴ')

[personal profile] righteously 2020-12-10 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
( He glances down. Takes the commentary to mean his letter, and doesn't seem all that bothered by the notion Levi's read it. )

It's therapeutic.

( In a deadpan tone that isn't directed at the guy so much as the notion he even remotely believes in therapy.

For himself, specifically, that is.
)
righteously: (Sᴏ I ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴇᴛ)

[personal profile] righteously 2020-12-10 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
( Seeing the kid up and moving around instead of in a 144p photo or through a crack in the door lowers Dean's defensiveness a little. Definitely seems like a real, normal, human, not dead-eyed zombified human being. That's an improvement from... literally everybody else.

He racks his slide back onto the frame with an audible series of clicks. Gestures vaguely with his clip-less hunk of metal, a sort of sweeping everywhere movement.
)

You know anything about all this?

( He'll... be less cold and demanding once they're on the same page. Insofar as his resting asshole status dictates, anyway. Right now wariness manifests in aggression in the head of their household here.

He's not mad, son, just disappointed.

Syke.
)
feudalladyshandmaid: (Squint)

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2020-12-10 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
[HORN WORKS. Good, great, glad they could settle that matter. Cassandra more gingerly takes the wheel, avoiding the middle part now.]

It's not like reins. [She sighs.] Guess it's more like you're the one turning the vehicle.

[She's the horse now. Or something.]

I have... a key to the house. [She releases one hand to dig through the pockets of her slacks. Rooting around, until - Aha. A sterling silver key, different from the one either of them had.] Plus this one I found in the foyer. Now, let's see...

[She sort of starts... poking various parts of the car to see if the key goes in. Radio? No. Cigarette lighter? No...]
thevalley: (cautious)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-10 02:11 am (UTC)(link)
The hardware store. Fuck. Right.

[Those had been picked clean of any ammo or guns long before she'd been around. Guns usually came from other people. From dead bodies.

She runs a hand down her face, pinching her nose.]


Yeah, I am.