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Entry tags:
- !event,
- archer: ray gillette,
- archer: sterling archer,
- attack on titan: erwin smith,
- attack on titan: levi ackerman,
- bbc dracula: agatha van helsing,
- dc comics: bruce wayne,
- dceu: diana prince,
- fate/grand order: kiara sessyoin,
- fate/grand order: leonardo da vinci,
- ffxiv: takame kesi,
- good omens: aziraphale,
- good omens: crowley,
- great library: christopher wolfe,
- jjba: okuyasu nijimura,
- kipo: kipo oak,
- marvel comics: miguel o'hara,
- original character: daylight vis lornlit,
- original character: vasiliy y ardankin,
- persona 4: shinjiro aragaki,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- tangled: cassandra,
- tangled: rapunzel,
- tasm: peter parker,
- the gifted: lorna dane,
- the last of us: ellie,
- the untamed: huaisang nie,
- undertale: papyrus,
- undertale: sans,
- world of warcraft: anduin wrynn,
- world of warcraft: wrathion
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
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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: |
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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! |
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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!” |
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As his words come to a close, at last the tarp is pulled away—revealing twenty feet of pure, polished, brilliant... ...aluminium christmas tree. Quick as the busy bees they are, the Happy Homes Association is there to announce that you can buy both table-sized and home-use duplicates for your own homes! The cost is $8 for the little ones and $18.50 for the big trees—get your wallets ready! As the crowd stampedes toward their own tiny and/or six-foot silver replicas, the three figures on the stage are hurried away. The HHA representative presents their gift basket to the Mayor. He kisses her on both cheeks, rubbing his belly in anticipation of the deliciousness to come, and hurries on. Chief Harding takes the rear, casting back a sour look, and before you have a chance to see if the three could answer any questions, the stage is empty again. ...well, get in line! You want those trees too, don’t you? |
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A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE
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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? |
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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: 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. |
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While the elves are happy to welcome visitors to their village, they also have to work. Christmas toys don’t build themselves, you know! The elves will point out Santa’s Workshop to you, where you can buy freshly made candy canes, charming ornaments for your new aluminum Christmas trees (you did buy one from the Happy Homes Association, didn’t you?), and other sundries and stocking stuffers. There’s even a German-style bar in the back serving hot chocolate and mulled wine—non-alcoholic, of course; this is a family event. Just outside of the workshop’s entrance is a mailbox, its post swirled red and white and wrapped in garlands. A small desk sits next to the mailbox with a stack of stationery, envelopes pre-addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and pens on top. At the top of the stationery, beside cutesy illustrations of hippos and children missing their front teeth, are the words, “What I want most for Christmas is…” Why not write Santa a letter? What have you got to lose? |
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THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...
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...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. |
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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.
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? |
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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. |
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“Now, in my house,” Clarke continues, “we have a rule not to open any presents until Christmas Day, but with all the ones I've gotten tonight, it's just too darn tempting.” Reaching down, he takes a box from the pile of gifts at his feet. “I think this one's a tackle box, and I'm pretty sure this—” he reaches down for another smaller box, “—is that electric razor I’ve had my eye on.” He shakes the box, chuckling, as the rest of the crowd joins him. “But let's get serious for a moment.” Clarke’s expression turns thoughtful. “Although getting a truckload of Christmas presents is swell, do you want to know what the greatest gift you've given me is?” He pauses performatively, waiting for an answer from the crowd that never comes. “The greatest gift you've all given me... is letting me serve you.” In the back, Harding ditches the punch cup and just drinks straight from the flask. “I'm honored to be here with you all tonight,” Clarke continues proudly, “just I am honored to be able to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell myself that I... am your mayor. Which is why I want to give something back to you. How many of you have already visited Santa's little village?” There’s a round of cheering in the front of the audience from the many children in attendance with their parents. Clarke opens his arms wide. “My idea! I decided that if I can't bring Santa Rosita to the North Pole, I'm going to bring the North Pole to Santa Rosita. Enjoy yourselves! Saint Nick's got a lot of work to do before Christmas. So be good, don’t pout, and for goodness sake—have fun!” The clapping threatens to take down the garlands hung from chandeliers. ”A fine orator!” “Reminds me of the war, when we heard Churchill over the radio. Why, Clarke gives him a run for his money, ha ha ha!” A delightful HHA elf comes to replenish the pickle tree on the appetizer table, and the covers of Bing Crosby carry you away into the night. Remember to stay until 9:00 pm, when the Santa Rosita Children’s Choir will start caroling! |
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OOC INFO
Welcome to the first part of the event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to use the log and network communities as well.
A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.
Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!
And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.
Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.
Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!
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!
Dec 1.
So looking like the world's least threatening Greaser, Ellie makes her way down into the kitchen where someone is cooking, which is somehow more disturbing than if the house was quiet. The idea of dropping her guard is unthinkable.
Dropping low, she moves into the kitchen, reaching over to grab a knife from the block, and then pressing the tip into the back of the man at the stove as she stands.]
Hands up. Step back and away from the stove.
no subject
He is a spy after all, it's just instinct.
The hot frying pan is the obvious one, but also the fried eggs themselves, the oil, maybe a knife if he can move fast enough to grab--
Wait, one's missing from the block that hadn't been just a moment ago, so whomever's behind him clearly didn't approach him with their own weapon, which makes a break in seem... unlikely? ]
Is this really necessary?
no subject
[Still, this guy doesn't seem like a mastermind of any kind. In comics, those guys hide away, the big boss at the end. They don't cook breakfast.
Not to mention, she recognizes him from the photos. Like they're married or something. It makes her sick. But also makes her think they're maybe in the same boat.]
Who are you? What do you know about this place?
no subject
But also, when he's stressed and upset there's always that part of him that wants to eat his feelings, so: breakfast.
He replies as calmly as he can, wanting to turn around but staying put for the moment, moving only to nudge the eggs around on the skillet so they don't burn. ]
Ray Gillette. And you're... let me guess, the child bride from upstairs?
no subject
[She snaps. Her hands shake. She could stab him right here. He probably couldn't stop her before he was wounded fatally. Or enough that he couldn't fight back...
She swallows it down.]
Where are you from? When did you get here? Do you know where we are?
no subject
He sighs, though, barely bothering to try to hide his impatience about being held at knife-point. ]
New York, and I dunno, today? [ Though weirdly he has memories of Halloween, for some reason...? ] Look, I don't know any more than you do, I just woke up here!
no subject
She drops the knife and steps backwards, but keeps it held firm, in case she needs to protect herself.]
Fine.
[A pause.]
You get kidnapped and the first thing you do after waking up is to make some fucking eggs?
no subject
Yep, it's the girl -- his "wife," fucked up as that is -- who, though she may deny being a child, still looks almost disarmingly young to him. He must be at least, what, ten years older than her? Twice as old? Not that an old-fashioned suburban sprawl like this would probably bat much of an eye to such an age difference.
It's a super awkward elephant in the room that, for now, Ray is still going to put off acknowledging out loud. ]
Not the first thing.
[ He flicks the stove off with almost petty flourish from his wrist, scraping the eggs onto plates. ]
And don't be shitty, I was hungry! Look, I wanna figure out where we are too, and why, but what are we supposed to do, just go on a damn hunger strike until they send us home?
no subject
Yeah, they're married but she can't take it seriously. She doesn't know him, he doesn't matter. Dina and JJ are what matter. Not this guy.]
You sure the eggs aren't poisoned?
[She opens up the fridge, just to have something to do. There's a jello-mold inside.]
This is definitely poisoned.
no subject
[ Ray leans back against the counter, scooping up one of the two egg plates and digging into his with an experimental bite. The sight of the jello mold makes his nose wrinkle, and be thankful again it wasn't the only thing in the fridge. He'd still eat it if he was desperate, but... ]
We can probably just throw that nasty ol' thing out, though.
no subject
[Okay buddy, you just eat the eggs. That's a you thing and not a her having problems with eating thing.]
Yeah. It's kind of a mistake.
no subject
[ Ray takes another forkful, chewing thoughtfully (they're a little overdone, but not awful, given the circumstances) with an eyebrow raised as he watches her with wary curiosity. ]
What do you like, then? Since eventually you're gonna hafta eat something, you know.
no subject
[So he lives (lived?) on a farm too. Her brain makes the connection but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just goes and starts rooting through the cupboards.]
I'm not picky.
no subject
[ Ray rolls his eyes, like it's the stupidest thing in the world to get upset about, but he'd hated the damn things enough that killing them to eat was just fine with him. Roosters are mean as hell. ]
And good, cuz right now pickin's seem pretty damn slim. Guess I'll have to go shopping, or... [ A sigh. ] I dunno, something.
[ It seems extremely surreal that on top of being kidnapped(?), illegally(?) married, and put up in a house in a town Ray's never heard of, they might also have to do things like shop for groceries, get jobs, and God knows what else, but at the moment he's not quite sure what the alternative is either. ]
no subject
[But she named a sheep "Ewegene" so who's really the one who committed the worst crime here.
And he's right. There's not much there. A few cans of beans, some canned peaches... and that's it.
She frowns.]
Shopping? Like at a store?
[Even with the house intact... it's not something she really thought about.]
no subject
[ He gestures a little helplessly, unsure himself. This is a weirdly mundane, practical sort of concern to have on top of all their other worries that Ray isn't entirely sure what to do. All things considered, is it weird to just go grocery shopping, even though they do (and will continue to) need food?
What a weird dilemma. ]
Isn't it better to give 'em food names, though? Least you'll know better than to get too attached that way...
no subject
[Awkward to say since she gets the impression that this guy's used to how life was before the Outbreak.
Then she shrugs a little.]
Preps the mood at least. Or maybe we just have a shitty sense of humor.
no subject
[ Into more or less a rest stop kind of town, too; only a few functional businesses and everything else a commute to a neighboring area. ]
Tradin's not so bad, though. Nothin' to be ashamed of, anyway, long as you actually have things to trade.
no subject
Where I come from, uh, most of humanity is dead. A virus wiped most of us out before I was born. So we do things... kinda the old fashioned way.
no subject
[ Ray raises one eyebrow slowly as he chews his eggs, then when he realizes she is indeed serious both of them lift with enough alarm that he nearly drops his fork. ]
Oh, dukes, that's awful, I mean I... [ He shakes his head, hand curls a little toward himself, hovering at his throat. ] I can't even imagine, really. Back where I'm from there's been close calls every now an' then, sure, but that</i sounds like damn near the end of the damn world.
no subject
[She shrugs a little, rearranging cans in the cupboard. It's weird to have a reaction like that. She doesn't know how to respond.]
But I was born after so it's just... the world.
no subject
If he hadn't had that Ray has no idea where he'd be today, what kind of man he'd have grown into, if at all-- a world that bleak no matter where you go almost doesn't even seem worth it.
But of course he says none of that. ]
Er-- right. [ He sets the plate down, rubbing awkwardly at his neck. ] And it's like that everywhere? Like all over the world?
no subject
Who knows what's going on across the ocean.
[She sighs a little. That's just how it's been and it's kind of wild for her to imagine the person sitting across from her has been to Europe and that was normal.]