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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SETTING INFO calendar | setting | housing | npcs | death and tranquilizing | event suggestions/engagements
interdicted: (Default)

Wolfe | The Great Library | OTA!

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
i. awaken (v). [closed to wrathion]
[ Something is wrong. Wolfe knows this immediately, before he even opens his eyes—because he has to open his eyes; his eyesight doesn't suddenly snap into functioning. And he's lying down, which means something is doubly wrong; he'd been Translating from the Serapeum in London to Philadelphia and Christopher Wolfe hasn't needed a recovery period from Translation in years, especially when heading into chaotic situations where the lives of his students were at stake. Wolfe is up and out of bed in seconds, barely taking the time to notice his strange pajamas before he's stalking out of the room, bent on finding out exactly what's going on. ]

Nic? [ A pause, and then: ] Brightwell?

[ They're the two most likely to have regained their consciousness and remained close, he thinks, and when neither respond his sense of foreboding only grows, especially as he steps into the living room and sees photos on the wall featuring himself and a young man—the same young man that he sees now. ]

Who are you?


ii. alight (adj).
[ Wolfe is already in a mood as he's shepherded to the tree lighting ceremony, a briefcase in hand that's full of books from the Santa Rosita Public Library. He wouldn't have even gone if he'd had his say, but the librarians had shown up to usher him out of the library so that they could close and head over. Once they'd realized he wasn't aware of the ceremony, they'd insisted on walking over with him to ensure he didn't get lost. His eyes narrow as he watches Mayor Clarke, taking careful note of those with enough clout to demand a presence on the stage and marking the uniformed men in his mind. Likely this town's equivalent to the Garda, he thinks, though they look much different than the uniformed men and women of his home.

Once the ceremony is over, he turns to go, but Wolfe pauses at seeing the growing line to purchase the smaller aluminum trees. Gauging the people, he approaches someone who seems as though they might also have woken up here unexpectedly. ]


There are better things to waste your money on than aluminum trees.

[ Why? ]


iii. abstain (v).
[ Wolfe is a logical man. Things work in the way they're supposed to. There are laws about physics, and relativity, and mathematics, and any other topic you can think to examine. And none, not one, of those laws account for opening your bedroom door and stepping into a freezing riotous nightmare.

Wolfe is accustomed to Egypt's weather. He's not unfamiliar with the cold (ask him about his first venture to Moscow—or rather, don't), but it doesn't help with his foul mood one bit, and each time he opens the door throughout the month he's a little angrier, until finally: ]


Has it occurred to anybody here that some of us might not celebrate Christmas?

[ He needs a drink. ]


iv. apéritif (n).
[ While Wolfe may show up to the gala in his customary black suit, he (perhaps surprisingly) accepts one of the HHA's loaner jackets with only a displeased frown and no further fuss. Wolfe has yet to place his finger on the pulse of Santa Rosita, and if there's one thing he's learned over the years it's how to survive. The jacket is tacky at best, perhaps more suited to the Brightwell patriarch than him, but if it will keep the people here from being suspicious of him, fine.

Similar to his behavior at the tree lighting ceremony, Wolfe will spend a decent amount of time observing the movers and shakers of the town, paying particular attention to Clarke's speech. Afterward, he notes in an undertone (but audible to any characters who might like to hear!): ]


1: So it's Mayor Clarke I have to thank for the midnight trip.

2: The captain of the Garda and the mayor are at odds.


v. wildcard (v, n wild card).
[ You know the drill! Likewise, feel free to modify any of the above—interrupt, run into him at a different time during or outside of the prompts, I'm good with anything. [plurk.com profile] journeys for any questions! ]
Edited 2020-12-02 05:43 (UTC)
fanoperator: (i don't know)

alight

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-02 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
[Huaisang looks helplessly bewildered at the advice, since part of him certainly agrees with it. This isn't how he wants to spend his money, and yet here he is, waiting in line to spend far too much on an ugly metal tree.] Were you not here in October?

[Of the variety of strange things that Huaisang learned in that dream month, the most important was that the trappings of the holiday will offer some protection against the horrors that this place disgorges. At least, he hopes that's the case.] I'm only going to get a little one.
interdicted: (Default)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ The person behind them makes a half-hearted comment about, "Hey, get in line!"

Wolfe ignores that. ]


I woke up here four days ago. What happened in October?

[ Gallium trees instead? ]
fanoperator: (oh no)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-02 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
[Huaisang, however, gives the person behind them an apologetic smile and reaches for the stranger's hand.] He's with me.

[Eyes growing a little wider, Huaisang looks helplessly up at Wolfe.] My memory is so strange here... I'm just not sure...

[He wants to cover for how he's just claimed this total stranger as his friend, and to dispel attention from the two of them, so he takes shelter in performed confusion.] I had this dream about being here for a whole other month, in October, and at the end of it there were these... monsters. Undead children. They attacked any house that didn't have a carved and lit pumpkin lantern. Isn't that funny?

[If Wolfe hasn't pulled his hand away, Huaisang gives it a tight squeeze.] So I just thought... I wouldn't want to pass up getting a tree. It's important to participate in the local traditions and festivities.
interdicted: (pic#14489661)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 04:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Unfortunately, there's only one person Wolfe might allow to take his hand, and he's not here right now. Wolfe doesn't quite snatch his hand away—he recognizes Huaisang's attempt to diffuse the situation, even if he definitely isn't making it any better by glaring back over his shoulder toward the offender—but he does pull his hand away. Sorry, Huaisang, no affection allowed! ]

A nightmare. [ Wolfe's familiar with those, and knows all too well how often nightmares are based in reality. But this stranger's words make it sound as though this "whole other month" was detached from this one, and while he may have to acknowledge that somehow he's been Translated to what seems as though it must be some sort of alternate timeline offshoot, something in him refuses to accept that the laws of the universe would allow for this.

That's a question and thought problem for a different night, though. ]
Local superstitions are often rooted in explaining unknown phenomena. The end of October is said to be when the boundaries between this world and the spirit world are thinnest; Christmas has little to do with the dead. Hedonism might be more appropriate.

[ Beat. ]

If you want to participate, I won't stop you.

[ He drops his voice so that the people around them won't hear as he adds: ] Tell me more about these monsters in October once they've stopped paying attention.

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sunborne: (402. - 🧭 - SNARKER.)

( alight! )

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-02 06:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ daylight flashes a bright smile in response, shrugging casually as he sets back down the funky little tree he had been inspecting. ]

Doesn't hurt to look like I'm trying to act the way they want me to. [ he's used to doing that back home, unknowingly or not. ] Get on their good side and get more chances to have some leeway in the future. Gotta give the locals a reason to not immediately jump my bones in a bad way, you know?

I take that you're not planning to get one for yourself? [ this is asked in a quiet voice, not wanting others nearby to overhear this bit of the conversation. one of the things daylight immediately picked up is that the people here are quick to jump on any boat rocking. ]
interdicted: (pic#14489671)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Wolfe gives a brief nod—smart lad. But— ]

There are many schools of thought in the world. This is only one of them.

[ Santi worships his Christian god, while Wolfe worships his own. Differences of belief are common where he comes from and Wolfe hasn't yet learned how gung-ho about Christmas the people here are.

But at the boy's question, Wolfe drops his voice as well. ]


I haven't decided. Some think they might be for protection; I've been told something similar happened in October.
sunborne: (390. - 🧭 - WILLING.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-03 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ he winces at the mention of october, having been part of that mess when it happened. (he thinks? it feels so dreamlike when looks back on it but he sure as hell is certain of the trick-or-treaters did sucker punch him in the gut at one point. ]

Yeah... The lit jack-o-lanterns kept some menaces away from you, if you had them set out on your front porch. The moment the candle was snuffed, though, it was a free-for-all.

[ he rubs the back of his neck, already feeling a headache coming on at the mere thought of something like that happening again. ]

I really hope we don't get a Part Two in that sort of event. Punting kids isn't exactly a fun activity. [ ... that isn't a sentence he thought he would say, ever, but here they are. ] If we do have to be safe than sorry, I guess the small stands wouldn't be too bad. The price for the big one is ridicolous.
interdicted: (Default)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-04 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wolfe absolutely takes note of Daylight's wince—interesting. He's still struggling to believe that the dead may have come back to life in October; there are laws to the world and magic isn't part of them. But this boy isn't the first one to exhibit unease at the thought of it. ]

How much?

What happened to you in October?

[ Indulge him, please; a sample needs multiple points of data. ]

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blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (11)

Awaken!

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-02 10:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wrathion has felt afraid before.

Several times in his life, Wrathion has been afraid.

He'd felt fear, and he'd even felt helpless. Xanesh in particular had made him feel helpless quite recently, her dark magic trapping him as part of her unpleasant ritual.

Wrathion wakes up sharply, and instantly several things become apparent. One, he's in an unfamiliar place. Two, his senses are being blocked -- somehow? He cannot sense anything at all? They must be blocked. Three, he --

The slow, curling sense of panic as he rips himself out of bed escalates as he walks past a mirrored surface. Pauses. Backs up, and stares at his reflection.

His eyes no longer their distinctive glowing red, instead he thinks what the mortals call... hazel, with odd little flecks of gold. Why? His eyes are a distinctive show of his flight! With a sense of dread hollowing out his stomach, Wrathion lifts a hand and tries to pool fire into it.

Nothing happens.

He's been bound. Bound, presumably, by some of N'Zoth's agents. How could he be so careless? He paces onward through the peculiar house, only half paying attention to the array of personal items and photographs. Whatever games are being played with him, he refuses to submit! The sound of a voice (calling... names? For someone else? Irrelevant, he won't be tricked!) draws his attention sharply, and he stands braced for a fight in the living room.

It might be a more intimidating presence if he weren't reduced to a human form, in striped pyjamas. ]


Cease these games!

[ He tries for full confidence, head held high, as if he could actually do anything about this. Perhaps he could. An improvised weapon, since he cannot cast? ]

I will not be enslaved again for your master's dark purpose. Release me!
interdicted: (pic#14489657)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It clicks for Wolfe immediately—between the way the young man is immediately braced for a fight and his own wariness and anger, the way he's referencing Wolfe's "master's dark purpose"? Clearly he doesn't know anything about who Wolfe is, or he'd know that the Library's dark purpose is to kill him. The gods know they've tried enough times. ]

I have nothing to do with this. We were both brought here against our wills and if you want to figure out what's going on, you'll stop revealing yourself as out of place every time you open your mouth.

[ It's punctuated with a sharp glower—Wolfe has no patience for nonsense. ]

My name is Christopher Wolfe. I'll ask you one more time for yours.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (10)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-02 04:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ah.

Wrathion's eyes narrow, as if weighing this up. Surely whoever brought him here knows who he is, and thus knows he is 'out of place'? What would be the point in keeping such a thing a secret, especially if others are enslaved as he is?

He slants his eyes toward a window, still tense, and studies the motion of people outside. It's certainly... odd. Oddest of all, if this is the Black Empire's doing... there's a distinct lack of corrupting whispers. His stillness has a practised air to it, a sense of intense personal control -- as if he's had to keep myself very still and quiet many times before.

It breaks, just as suddenly, as he focuses back on Wolfe. ]


You stand before the Black Prince Wrathion. I fear we are both in a great deal of danger.

[ This would be a more dignified introduction, and a more grave warning, were it not for the pyjamas. ]
interdicted: (4vBkGh5ilVbykp58leRfbf)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-02 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Wolfe takes note of all of this, momentarily wondering what Wrathion has been through in his past to develop that control to be silent and still before he tamps down on the thought. His students have made him soft; he doesn't want to know. He can't help him, no matter what it was.

Wolfe nods, and in spite of the both of them standing in their pajamas the air is definitely a solemn one. These both seem to be men of presence and bearing. ]


I agree. The question is from whom and what direction to expect it.

[ As he says it, his mind is working. Wrathion—Old English, proto-Germanic. European. He knows the rulers of the European countries, and he's never heard of this Black Prince. ]

Your homeland?

[ "I did not ask for your nationality," he'd said once. A similar meeting, not so very long ago. But things have changed, and this is no longer Library soil. ]

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thevalley: (Default)

abstain

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-02 03:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Not fucking likely.

[Ellie replies, slightly under her breath but loud enough for him to know she's responding to him.

She doesn't really have strong feelings on Christmas but this seems well, like fucking overkill.]
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[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-04 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ He recognizes Ellie from before—he nods in response to her words. ]

How many times have you been sent here?
thevalley: (Default)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-10 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
Twice.

[She shrugs.]

At least I haven't been in my pajamas.
interdicted: (4vBkGh5ilVbykp58leRfbf)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-10 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
More the luck to you.

[ He's started carrying his heavy woolen overcoat with him between rooms as an insurance that he won't freeze if he gets caught outside. ]

Was it the same door both times, or a different one?
shalamayne: (6-3)

abstain

[personal profile] shalamayne 2020-12-02 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Anduin had been finding his own way around the village, wondering what the whole deal was before he hears someone speak up. It's a sentiment he can agree with, even if Anduin wouldn't be so quick to put his own thoughts into voice in that regard.]

We do not celebrate a Christmas back home. Something similar, but not this.

[ The young king glances on over, expression sympathetic.] Are you new here?
interdicted: (pic#14489677)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-04 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wolfe is only quick to voice the thought because he comes from a similar world to this. He knows California, even if he doesn't know Santa Rosita.

He ignores the question—sorry, Anduin!—though he's definitely taken note of that "back home" comment. He'll get to that. ]


Don't misunderstand me. Christmas exists in Alexandria, but so does Bodhi Day, Yalda, Hanukkah, Karthika Deepam, Saturnalia, and the Epagomenae, for a start.

Where are you from?
shalamayne: (22)

[personal profile] shalamayne 2020-12-05 09:45 am (UTC)(link)
[ Sometimes a non-answer is enough. At the very least Anduin isn't offended when no response is offered to his question; if the other person is in the same boat then voicing it out loud to a strange probably isn't the best.]

I do not know those but they do sound interesting. That is a lot of celebrations.

[ The question gets only the briefest hesitation before Anduin gives a small smile. Best not to.]

Out of town.
interdicted: (pic#14489661)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-08 05:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ His Scholar's heart despairs, even though he knows that not all of them are from the same Earth as he is. He's been lucky in that regard. But still—to be so ignorant of the world around them... it eats at Wolfe, not knowing everything, and he's had a head start. For him, his fellows, and his students, admitting to not knowing something is akin to admitting failure.

He's trying not to ascribe the same judgment here. Trying, and failing more often than not.

He's doing a little bit better at not lecturing when he finds a weak spot in one of their number's knowledge bases, at least. ]


Every culture has its own celebrations. Christmas is one observed by many.

[ If Anduin is looking at Wolfe when he says that he's from "out of town," it might be possible to guess that Wolfe understands exactly what that means. ]

There are many of us that just came to Santa Rosita. I don't believe I've met them all yet.

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hoshikiri: (hakaze.)

aperitif

[personal profile] hoshikiri 2020-12-03 04:54 am (UTC)(link)
[Takame was of a similar mind, participating in the gala mostly to gather intel. There were a few nuggets of knowledge to be gained from the tree lighting ceremony, but from his experience (not to mention how useful it was to Tataru), lips tended to be more loose when drink is thrown into the mix.

The loaner jacket he was given made him worry he was too conspicuous but in this sea of red and green he may as well be perfectly camouflaged. Convenient since it let him listen out for this man's hypothesis about the Mayor and the captain after subtly exiting a crowd. He may lack his horns and thus lack some spatial perception, but his hearing wasn't any worse.

And his sister always did tell him "he missed every shot he didn't take".]


... Do you believe so?
interdicted: (pic#14489661)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-04 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wolfe sizes up the stranger quickly, taking note of the loaner jacket (he'd passed over that one for his own, slightly less loud jacket) and the look on his face. He's noticed so far that many of the townsfolk have a certain bearing to them, and while he can't be certain that this person is another newcomer like him, he feels confident enough to answer. ]

The captain has been drinking tonight. [ He nods toward the back of the room where Harding was. ] He was drinking at the ceremony outside of town hall, but it was in response to Clarke's speech tonight. [ He thinks. But Harding's consumption did seem conspicuous, especially when Wolfe considers the contents of the speech. ]

If Harding appears to resent Clarke, Clarke doesn't hold absolute power. Harding isn't threatened by him.

[ Perhaps it's something he himself would have done were the Artifex Magnus speaking to a gathering of Scholars, but never the Archivist. When someone rules with an iron fist, you guard yourself. ]
hoshikiri: (oka.)

[personal profile] hoshikiri 2020-12-05 02:50 am (UTC)(link)
[A key indicator that he wasn't a native was the lack of a smile on his face and much longer hair than a man should rightly have. He may have dressed the part, but Takame had little to smile about.

His sister would be disappointed in him. But he couldn't request forgiveness here. Still, he listened carefully to this man's theory with a slow nod. And while it may not be entirely wrong, Takame had doubts.]


Yet Harding still follows Clarke to these ceremonies. 'Tis possible the mayor is unbothered by Harding's heavy drinking because his loyalty is absolute and Clarke is certain of his power over the law enforcement. [Pot meet kettle. But Takame's learned enough from Vauthry's rule and his own experiences with tyrants who fancy themselves rulers.]
interdicted: (pic#14489671)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-05 05:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ "Inadequate analysis." It's on the tip of his tongue, but Wolfe swallows the words—in his own world, he might know those answers. He would have enough knowledge about the history and the political structure of the area to be able to infer the relationships between the Mayor and his law enforcement. Here, however, he does not.

He might infer, but he cannot know. ]


Possible, but not probable. No alcohol is available tonight, nor is there any in the village he claims credit for. Alcohol-free versions are available. What does that tell us?

[ That not providing alcohol is intentional. ]

If the mayor's power was certain, Harding wouldn't be drinking. The threat of retribution would be too high. [ Since he follows the mayor to these ceremonies, there may be some risk of retribution or loyalty, but not enough that Harding isn't willing to operate on his own terms. ] Similarly, if Harding's loyalty were absolute, he wouldn't undermine Clarke by drinking at an event where he'll be a public face.

[ And if the man were truly an alcoholic, a mayor with absolute power would have forced him to correct the problem, Wolfe speculates. ]

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