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
righthandstand: (think think think)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-20 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"I dunno. I guess they have bars, but I can always get before night hours." The idea of sneaking into a bar isn't that fun when you already know what it's like inside.

"From my guess, a small town like this isn't gonna have anything fun like that. All the late night stuff I know about was in Tokyo."
righthandstand: (this is bullshit)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-20 06:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Why would I see a doctor —

[Wait, if he's coming up with stupid advice, maybe he doesn't know what a Stand is?

Okuyasu relaxes his stance - only a little - and imagines what his brother would do in this situation. The answer immediately comes as "beat him up and possibly try to stab him," so he moves onto "what would Josuke do?"]


Okay, so maybe you're tellin' the truth. I still don't know where we are or if this newspaper is real or not.
fwizz: (pic#14481605)

[personal profile] fwizz 2020-12-20 07:25 pm (UTC)(link)
I can tell you we're not in New York... [ miguel mumbles, attention shifting towards the newspaper. everything seems real enough, tangible and present; none of it stands out as being dissimilar to when he'd found himself back in peter's time, outside of—

well, the lack of lyla and the lack of anything spider-man related.

if it was a dream or a hallucination, he doesn't think he'd make up an angry japanese kid, it'd just be his mother, maybe with a side of xina for flavour. outside of that, he doesn't have any strict ideas or answers, nothing major beyond: "well, if the last two years of my life have taught me anything, it's that this is apparently just another day in the life of, not sure what that says for you."

he lifts a shoulder in a loose shrug; then, a flat suggestion— ]
Time travel.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (13)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-20 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
He nods at the description of mistletoe, half studying their nearby fellow tree enthusiasts, before turning back at the question. Ah! Something he knows

"A seasonal biscuit," he elaborates, "spiced and decorated with coloured icing. They seem to be quite popular. It seems you must make some for Greatfather Winter to thank him for his efforts in bringing gifts. I've seen them used as decoration, too."

Wrathion speaks of the activity with enough distance that it's clear he's never done this himself, but finds it a curiosity. Mortal celebrations are often peculiar and fascinating both.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (25)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-20 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Reality... TV show? The concept of this is alien to Wrathion, who lofts an eyebrow again and considers this.

"There is something to it," he can admit that much. "Although I am not sure how our new found friends would take to us damaging their trees."

They might get... upset. What upset would look like he isn't sure, but limited as he is here Wrathion isn't in a hurry to find out yet.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (8)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-20 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"Terrible," Wrathion admits, then glances sideways at Anduin with a flash of self-consciousness. "I'm sure you have noticed I am... changed since we last spoke."

There, a neutral enough way to address things. His eyes no longer being their burning red is surely something instantly recognisable. Although he hates the... vulnerability of it, this is important. Anduin must know that Wrathion is hampered here. If he could, he'd simply rip them both from the place. He cannot.

"I find I am feeling the cold more than I used to."

A clue. Hopefully he can begin to put two and two together.
monomachy: idolatry @ dw (set fire to the rain)

[personal profile] monomachy 2020-12-21 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
[The more he tells her, the tighter the knot in Diana's stomach becomes. She has lived among men long enough to know that what he's described would only serve to cause strife. She crosses her arms loosely, holding in the shudder that runs down her spine as she pictures this "library."]

That sounds like a twisted version of what it was meant to be.

[They're places to store and cultivate knowledge, not suppress it.]

Were you... a part of it?

[She asks it gently, cautiously; there's no judgement in her voice, but she wants to know how closely affiliated he might have been to it. That would certainly explain his reaction to this place and the glass.]
thotsandprayers: (and dear lady please don't laugh)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-21 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
She'll take a look and sure enough...]

I believe it is.

[Are they saved from having to walk all the way back?]
interdicted: (pic#14489670)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-21 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, for the love of Heron, when will he quit stumbling upon youths with these idealistic ideas of what "somebody" has to do? The boy's speech could very well be coming out of any one of his students' mouths, and for a moment almost feels as though it's Jess Brightwell standing in front of him, or Khalila Seif, or Morgan Hault. Hell, even Santiago might say as much.

It skewers him through the heart, even though Wolfe presents no outwardly signs of how the boy's words have affected him. ]


I'm not saying to ignore it. I'm telling you not to stick your neck out until you understand the stakes. You're of no use to any of us if you're dead.
webdesigned: (116)

[personal profile] webdesigned 2020-12-21 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
( Peter feels like he's holding his breath, hearing the mechanisms slip around in the lock. it's not quite super spider powered hearing, but all the same the subtle noises seem to echo in the hall like clattering dishware in a metal sink, unbearably loud in the silence. Peter forces himself to not watch Ray and instead keep eyes on both sides of the hall, strain to hear anything that isn't metal clicking in and around in a lock.

considering how hyper-aware he is of the noises, it's not shocking he can hear the break, as well as the failure, before the muttered curse. maybe there wouldn't be anything in there, but the lack of getting to know hangs heavy.
)

Hi Ray. ( does he sound like a disappointed kicked puppy? because he sort of looks like one. he taps miserably on the door, before sending dark eyes back towards the end of the hallway. ) I was really hoping that would work. ( he doesn't have super strength to break the thing down, nor superhearing and tools of his own to try and fiddle with the lock himself. it's a dead end, at least for now. )

Everything I've tried is locked. I'm not sure we're going to be able to find anything if we can't break one open.
interdicted: (4vBkGh5ilVbykp58leRfbf)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-21 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ That's... actually an interesting question he poses, and one Wolfe hasn't considered up until this point. His expression goes dark and might reasonably be read as angry, but he's not quite glaring at Sans as he thinks the problem through. ]

A valid point. Considering the number of us that appeared here at the same time, it would suggest that something on this end interfered with our own instances.
webdesigned: (92)

[personal profile] webdesigned 2020-12-21 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
One of the elves? Like what?

( yeah, probably he wouldn't be game for felony assault. Peter is game on for some illegal activities, but actively injuring people without proof of their nefarious intent is sort of a no go. and even then, he's not the type to torture. no more force than necessary is his MO.

he makes a slight face at Archer's limited attempts to show empathy. as far as Peter is concerned, of course he's here. Spider-Man being roped into some kind of strange plot just seems par for the course. but looking at him, a random kid being dragged into a mass kidnapping is... bad, sure.
)

Has to feel bad for old people too. Or, uh... older than me people. ( nice save, Peter. definitely didn't just call this guy old. ) Peter. I'm not gonna push it and say it's nice to meet you when you ruined my terrible shoes, but uh, it's nice to know other people who are stuck here, I guess.
webdesigned: (235)

[personal profile] webdesigned 2020-12-21 04:55 am (UTC)(link)
( well, that hits, a little harder than it needs to. Peter is a little sore on the prospect of the finality of death right now. the only way he's managed to drag himself out of bed and force himself back into heroics is because of a distinct sense of obligation. he's still here, he can still fight.

if he has to keep going when Gwen can't, then he can't waste what he is and what he can do. he has to do something, he has to help those that need him. it's what Gwen would have wanted. it's the least possible way he can honor her now that she's gone.

he rubs the short hair on his neck, at least looking quietly cowed.
) I don't plan on it. ( getting himself killed, anyway. the other thing is just sort of how he operates. ) You never answered, though. What do you think of Mayor Clarke's speech?
interdicted: (pic#)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-21 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes go to her hand—he's been with Santi for 20+ years, he's familiar with the motion—but Wolfe doesn't move. He brings his eyes back up to her face, making it obvious he's noticed the movement, and he raises both eyebrows.

That's fine; he, more than most, understands what it's like to live constantly looking over your own shoulder. ]


More the reason not to let them know what our plans are. The more information we give them freely, the easier they use it against us.

[ A pointed glance at her growing collection of bottles. Empty them out here, and one of the nosy neighbors that aren't like oddly human puppets might take note of the number of them and report it somewhere. Empty them in your house, and they'll never know how many you have. ]

If we act like we want to try to blend in, they'll relax their guard.

[ He hopes. ]
Edited 2020-12-21 05:50 (UTC)
interdicted: (pic#14489671)

me wailing like NO RAY I'M SORRYYYYYYY

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-21 05:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ Yeah, that feels a little more like home already. ]

The boy the people here think is my son doesn't come from Earth, no. And while I do come from Earth, it's possible—even likely—that we come from different versions of it.

[ Beat. He'll give Ray just a moment to take that into consideration before continuing. ]

The year was 2031 on my Earth.
interdicted: (pic#14489671)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-21 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
[ Yes. As a matter of fact, he does.

(Okay, so he doesn't, but really it would make both of their lives so much easier...). ]


We call it Earth. I'm familiar with a number of old gods; you'll have to narrow it down further than that.

[ You want Egyptian? Greek? Roman? Celtic? Come on, Wrathion, there are a lot of old gods! ]
ribticklers: (132)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-21 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah. At the very least, somebody did all the paperwork to buy all those houses for us. [So much effort for such a weird situation!] Maybe one of us is a detective and they'll figure it out for the rest of us. [Sans doesn't want to fuss too much thinking about all the details if he doesn't have to.]
interdicted: (pic#14489688)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-21 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ As Daylight keeps speaking, Wolfe's eyes keep narrowing. The boy is obviously hiding something, and very poorly at that. ]

And how old are you now? Not "the equivalent of it, at least."

[ He'll come back to space in a minute. Daylight's being suspicious. ]
sunborne: (380. - 🧭 - DOUBT.PNG.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-21 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ (it feels like a requirement to being forced in here, that's for sure.)

daylight's eyes light up at the name, recognising it easily. (it's hard not to.) a proverbial lightbulb turning on as he punches a first into an open palm and he's grinning all the while. ]


Oh! That's Sans' brother! [ nice! a connection between the whole group now. (and helping strengthen a suspicion that daylight has been having: that they're not paired with anyone from here but, rather, with each other.) ] From the vibes I got while talking to Sans when he spoke about his brother, he's a cool dude. I'm glad you two are, um, 'together' so you have each other's backs.

My 'wife', Agatha, is one of us too. [ did he mention her by name yet? better double down and do it now to be sure. ] You should reach out to her if you have the chance. Never hurts to get a better of what our headcount is.

[ who knows- maybe they'll all be going to the gala and they can find more faces there. ]
sunborne: (390. - 🧭 - WILLING.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-21 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ daylight, ever the rebel, decides to just.

sit on the floor, cross-legged, leaning against the closest available thing he can lean on. (which happens to be an umbrella stand so stay strong, buddy.) the pair are aways enough from the crowd no eerily smiling sponsor or too polite staff is going to notice them for the time being.

it's actually the perfect time to discuss these things, he realises, and daylight takes it from both hands: ]
Different dimension? Maybe. Different time period? For sure. This is, like, the far past for me. Shouldn't even be on Earth, honestly.

[ shouldn't be in a human body too but hey. let's do this in baby steps. ]

What about you? Where were you and what time is it in your place?
interdicted: (pic#14489688)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-21 06:39 am (UTC)(link)
You presume correctly.

[ A frown. Azeroth is the same world Wrathion comes from. But he doesn't know whether it would be kind to share the information or whether he would be damning him, as would be the case if someone told the Artifex Magnus that he was here. ]

You are not the first I've heard of Azeroth.
sunborne: (425. - 🧭 - FIDGETING.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-21 06:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ daylight quickly throws his hands up, grimacing. it's starting to feel a lot like the time he got caught by nightbreak when sneaking around the starship. long before they were friends. ]

Well... I'm old enough to get considered married here, apparently? [ okay okay okay- that was a smartass answer and he knows it, though a second too late to stop himself from saying it. whoops.

he tries to correct himself by clearing his throat and giving a real answer: ]
I'm in my twenties. Early twenties if someone twisted my arm to try and get a range out of me.

[ it's not easy to try and convert earth time units to galateion time units. they don't play nice with each other. ]
13thcommander: (Default)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-21 10:59 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you. I'll keep hold of the tree.

[He's basically been carrying it the whole way anyway, what's a few more minutes?]

I take it your brother is in the house on this side?
13thcommander: (hot for teacher)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-21 11:02 am (UTC)(link)
Let's go, then.

[It's quite pleasant, really, getting to know the neighbors and finding out she's so easy to talk to.]

May I ask what books you've been reading? Nearly everything in the library is new to me, and I'd appreciate any recommendations you might have.
13thcommander: (pleased)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-21 11:05 am (UTC)(link)
[Erwin can't help smiling at that comment. He's not a particularly boastful man by nature, but he knows he can depend on his mind and his reasoning skills above all else, and what Levi has said rings true.]

Perhaps they thought I'd get distracted learning about all the new technology.

[Which would be a fair assessment, honestly.]

I'm going into town later to purchase a camera. Would you like to come with me?