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

DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 1


CHAPTER ONE, PART 1: A HOLLY JOLLY HOLIDAY

Do you hear what I hear?


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

DECEMBER 5th

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

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

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

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

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

“Gooooood evening, Santa Rosita!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

...aluminium christmas tree.

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

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

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

↑ back to top ↑


A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And visit it you will.

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

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

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

↑ back to top ↑


THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

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

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

That might be a bad idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

↑ back to top ↑


OOC INFO

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

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

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

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

Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.

Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!

▶ NAVIGATION ◀
COMMS logs | network | ooc | memes
OOC INFO premise | rules | faq | taken | applications | hiatus/drop/canon updates | activity check | reserves | mod contact
SETTING INFO calendar | setting | housing | npcs | death and tranquilizing | event suggestions/engagements
sunborne: (402. - 🧭 - SNARKER.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2021-01-01 03:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ daylight raises his eyebrows, pretending to look shocked and offended. ]

Do you think all aliens would know the mechanics of faster-than-light travel? Because we're aliens? It’s like me walking up to a human and going, ‘Hey! You guys have bones that heal. Explain to me the process in detail.'


[ after letting that sink in for a second, he does (cheekily) answer the question: ] The discovery of hyperspace’s existence and the successful creation of warp drives, basically. It allows starships to access the hyper dimension and our regular dimension, making traveling a lot more truncated and brief. If pukey.

[ really, really pukey. daylight never did overcome that issue whenever the lornful light did a jump. ]
undiagnosed: (power blackout)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2021-01-01 03:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes, in your own goddamn home! [he snaps, though waves it off with his hand. he wouldn't... actually literally shoot papyrus, honestly. as far as archer's aware, he's a civilian and no actual threat. he does have some standards.] I'm going out the door!
undiagnosed: (pic#14468845)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2021-01-01 04:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[team "being forced into a fake family and gaslighted brings up ungodly amounts of trauma" which is actually just every single person here! what a mess.]

It's Germanic. Which... I guess is what my... thing is. [if, you know, he was even called rando.] It's certainly been a meeting.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468851)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2021-01-01 04:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[he's glaring up at vasiliy from his position hunched over on the floor, gunshots still ringing in his ears, nose still bleeding. balls still hurting.]

I had more, but I think it can wait.
m1895: (and this bullshit west coast dogma)

[personal profile] m1895 2021-01-01 06:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Good. [ Vasiliy coughs again, making a concerted effort not to close his eyes in response to the pain that slams his forehead and the base of his skull like a sledgehammer with even that slight movement. ]

Why are you here? Really?
undiagnosed: (pic#14468630)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2021-01-01 06:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Poor life choices, [he says, straightening up and then burping into his fist.] and way too much grain alcohol.

[archer tentatively stands up - vasiliy can likely easily tell one of his legs doesn't take weight anywhere near as well as the other and it's not from anything that happened in the house.]

Why the Hell are you here?

[russian... military? in some ass-backwards town in the US? colour him curious.]
Edited 2021-01-01 18:10 (UTC)
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SWEAT)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2021-01-01 06:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[Papyrus gasps and theatrically puts a hand to his chest, as might any of the Robbie neighbors or television characters. He never.]

Well! Then, the door is this way.

[In a neighborhood like this, the houses are cookie cutter copies and basically the same layout over and over. Archer doesn't need to be guided to the door. But this morning conversation has been a rollercoaster, and he wants to be sure the window trespasser actually leaves.]
m1895: (they taught me everything)

[personal profile] m1895 2021-01-01 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Because this is my house! Because I was sleeping!

[ It takes a second before the less literal interpretation of that question occurs to Vasiliy through the haze of adrenaline and his head injury; once he realizes what this man is really asking, he takes a few moments to debate whether or not he's inclined to answer truthfully. He definitely doesn't fit the model of the other town natives—too crude, unbalanced, seemingly unhappy—but that also doesn't mean that he's an ally, or even someone who wouldn't gladly give names under duress or torture in a California prison cell. ]

I live here. I am refugee from Communist Russia.

[ Saying it feels like a knife to the chest even still, no matter how many times he's already had to disavow his own country over the past two months. He feels vile, skin crawling under the knowledge that this place has turned him into the worst kind of coward: one without principles. ]
undiagnosed: (pic#14468694)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2021-01-01 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Yikes. That's... yikes. [he stands up properly, fully, shaking his head. the ringing in his ears from the gunshots hasn't stopped, but he'll take it over bullets in his body.] Good choice in... town?

[not at all. not even close.]

Will you put the goddamn gun down so I know you're not gonna blast my head off the second I go down the stairs?
righthandstand: (what's this?)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2021-01-01 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, he...needs fresh air. And I'm bein' a gentleman and makin' sure he's safe." He glances at Huaisang and holds his elbow as if he were supporting him while walking through the park.

"It's cold anyway, we can't stay out that long." Okuyasu adds a grin.

Ann-Loise and Ethel keep their hands clasped together, smiling, now looking directly at Okuyasu. The pause that follows gives him hope that they'll let them go, but-

"Oh, how lovely! What a kind young man!"

"Why don't we go with you? The street should be lovely with the snow and lights."

Okuyasu hadn't thought this far. "Wait-"

"Where do you plan to walk?" Ethel - or Ann-Louise, Okuyasu can't tell - smiles now at Huaisang.
righthandstand: (not gonna touch that)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2021-01-02 02:37 am (UTC)(link)
Okuyasu's smile falters with a short stare.

"No. I don't use computers much." He thought an adult would at least use them at work.
13thcommander: (gentle looking down)

Erwin wishes he was from the semi-canon AU where he's a middle school principal

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2021-01-02 09:47 am (UTC)(link)
I did. I woke up here with a woman I'd never met before as my wife. We weren't assigned any children, though.

[Erwin pauses before continuing, looking over the village. He remembers a drink stand not far from where they've shown up, and starts gently steering Peter in that direction. He doesn't think the kid is in shock, but a warm drink never hurt anyone regardless.]

It's not the same woman from October.

[He's just... going to let that sit there, and see if Peter takes the bait. If he was here in October too, then he might have had the same thing happen to him.]
13thcommander: (yeah yeah tell me more)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2021-01-02 09:49 am (UTC)(link)
[Erwin wouldn't be terribly surprised if the library did have books about horrible mazes and torture devices hidden away somewhere. Maybe in the restricted section...]

Where I'm from, we're still getting around on horseback and using oil in lamps.

[He shrugs; he's learned that this is pretty far in the past from most of the people here, and that he's got some catching up to do.]

It's amazing what has been accomplished in this world.
13thcommander: (are you fucking serious)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2021-01-02 09:54 am (UTC)(link)
[The hat is completely unaware of the seriousness of this conversation. It has been made to jingle, and jingle it shall.]

[Erwin nods as Daylight describes the various types of reconnaissance, all things he's familiar with, but his eyes light up when Daylight mentions starships. Is this someone else from a world that's mastered space travel?
]

You mentioned starships; are you from a world that travels between the stars?
shalamayne: (13)

[personal profile] shalamayne 2021-01-02 04:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Blessed indeed. No-one needs to be a genius to read the undertones of that comment, especially since Anduin's own experience is about the same. The mention of being no worse than the original gets what could be a flicker of amusement, but it's only brief. Bringing people from other worlds is bad, but forcing people into familial groups is stranger still.

"Then our idea of 'well' differs." He isn't going to speak out loud on how much this place disturbs him, bothers him on some whole different level. It almost feels the same as N'Zoth and the old Gods when it came to unease. Something wasn't right and Anduin knows he's in no position to fix it right now.

"I have the suspicion that being in one piece is considered a victory in this place."
sunborne: (367. - 🧭 - BRIGHT THING.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2021-01-02 06:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ j i n g l i n g intensifies as daylight nods in reply and, perhaps, it's a blessing in disguise. unless you were next to him, like erwin, the obnoxious festive jingling was drowning out his voice well enough to keep others from hearing his answer: ]

Yeah. I've been travelling space since I was a teenager. Was part of a starship that travelled around that focused on the destination and the journey. Went to planets, seen the stars-

[ he stops himself, not wanting to say too much since they're still pretty close to the townsfolk, with one of them giving a funny look with their funny smile.

he smiles back but it's genuine, daylight's eyes twinkling as he remembers his adventures and misadventures. to erwin, on the side, ]
Definitely recommend it, if you ever get the chance to travel. It's one of the best choices that I ever did in my life.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (24)

[personal profile] blackscales 2021-01-02 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
"Let us hope it is not a hard-won victory for us."

He'd rather not have to fight to stay in one piece too much when devoid of any of his... natural gifts.

Wrathion frowns in thought, eyes flicking between Anduin and the road as they walk -- hands fidgeting his pockets as he considers his words.

"You are... unharmed, I hope?"

Since he said their idea of well differs. What does that mean? Speaking in code all the time is so tiresome, when Wrathion really just wants to ask. He glances up the road and resists the urge to speed up, clamps down on his unease and tries to stay cool.
righthandstand: (food critic)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2021-01-02 10:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[That sounds like an insult, and Okuyasu will not let him have the last word.]

Oh yeah? What if the alien's a slug and never heard of bones? A human can explain what those are.

[He grabs a tiny cookie, thankfully only containing ginger as flavor.]

So what, going to another dimension to fast travel? Sounds pretty complicated. [moving in three is difficult enough in space.]
monomachy: buckybear @ ij (tongue tied)

[personal profile] monomachy 2021-01-02 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[It makes things easier if he's at least heard of some of the authors she has in mind.]

I'm not surprised. They're both considered two of the greatest writers in history. There are many, of course, but they're a great place to start.

[They'll at least give him a base for understanding a lot of other fiction, which is what he said he'd wanted.]

I'm glad to help.
monomachy: hollow-art.com (in the cold cold night)

[personal profile] monomachy 2021-01-02 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[Diana lifts one hand, palm out in apology.]

I understand. believe me when I say that I feel exactly the same way about my own housemate.

[Though less because of his age and more because... well, marriage isn't exactly in the cards for Diana at all.]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: YORICK)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2021-01-03 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
Wow, really?

[The technological path underground varied somewhat from human history, so both of these are novel things to Papyrus. When all the horses are your sentient neighbors, and the roads are mostly too meandering for galloping anyway.]

I can't imagine it... Life without electronics. Without phones.

[At least they're both experiencing the hands-on reality of cars for the first time.]
petsthedog: (pic#12817773)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2021-01-03 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
It even worth tryin' to leave? Creepy place'll probably just slingshot us back out of spite next door we open.

[He's not ready to cave to Christmas Cheer but he is only a little kreacher depressed teen, he cannot do anything about this.]
sunborne: (421. - 🧭 - ALL SMILES.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2021-01-03 08:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ daylight grins and raises his hands up, looking playfully apologetic ]. Got me there.

And, yeah, it’s super complicated. It’s why there’s this whole field for space travelling and why you need, like, a million certifications and licenses to do be allowed on a starship and not a regular spaceship. Or being allowed to do maintenance on warp drives and quantum engines. Stuff like that. [ admittedly, a lot of that information has flown over daylight despite being friends with one of the pilots of the lornful light. ] I have a feeling this place doesn't have anything close to do that, though. Which is a shame.
feudalladyshandmaid: (What nooo)

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2021-01-03 10:28 am (UTC)(link)
[They can both be sure about one thing: Rapunzel is Baby, no matter how old she gets.]

She?

[The pan is lowered, less due to Archer's request, and more due to the fact that Cassandra suddenly seemed lost in her thoughts.]

Okay, okay! I'm not going to hurt you. [probably.] But, this girl. Does she have short brown hair? Or really, really long, blonde hair?
undiagnosed: (pic#14468685)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2021-01-03 01:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Mmmm... [he puts a hand to his chin, giving it some... not so serious thought.] ...Mmmm...




Can't remember.