deercountry | closedish to cool guys having chill day

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closedish to cool guys having chill day

Who: a bunch of funky friends invited by Viktor and Palamedes*
What: Having a Party in a field with Fireworks
When: the second week-ish in May
Where: (the field outside of) Pal and Viktor's bunker in Gaze

Content Warnings: alcohol and teens drinking it, irresponsible use of explosives, see threads for anything else that comes up

*If you have friendly CR with Palamedes please feel free to handwave that he mentioned this happening, also if your character has CR with a Pal Friend (a pal^2) who would invite them along, he's broadly allowing this. It's not a formal affair in the slightest lmaooo

--

afternoon/evening.

Earlier in the morning on the day of The Fireworks Field Party (tm), Palamedes makes sure to send a quick location ping to anyone who's never been to the Sixth bunker (also tm) before, because it is, indeed, just in a field somewhere in Gaze. The treeline is comfortably distant from the door to said bunker, which is the only real indication anything is out here besides a few "big rocks" that he names, in his message, as landmarks.

As an afterthought, he has set up a little trail of mason jars containing glowing mushrooms to lead the way to The Field, helpfully. The Field is what it sounds like: a dang field, just slightly ominous in the Gaze fashion, although besides the usual somebody's-watching feeling, it's grassy and spacious for kitschy lawn games. Among the things Palamedes has provided (upon recommendation of a shopkeeper, so like, do not perceive his choices, they were made for him) include:

1. Just a load of blankets, big cozy ones dutifully spread out for chilling on, on the ground.

2. Throwing game Crossbones, definitely chosen because of the bones (they are wooden sticks), and just kind of left sitting there waiting because your host does not know how to play physical games.

3. beanbag horseshoes because it rocks

4. Just, like, a specific blanket that has pencils and blank paper sitting on it... This is a free station, no one will question what art happens here.

Harrow has also provided bone chairs for alternate seating, which are precisely what they sound like.

Eventually, the field will also feature a snack table, which is a community effort, and a booze table, which is slightly supervised in the way that your esteemed host(s) will not permit booze and cherry bombs at the same time.

And, because it's an open field in Trench, there is also a table where emergency incense is waiting. Wandering too far from the space immediately around the bunker (which, it's a big space, you'd have to go far) will eventually lead you to blood wards on the ground, on the trunks of a few trees, etc. Don't touch these. Don't be gross.

the fucken fireworks.

It's fireworks. Once it's dark, there are even more glowing mushroom jars and homemade alchemy glowsticks from Waver to be passed around, somehow, and at least some of the little beanbags glow in the dark, ooh!! Viktor has provided cherry bombs to be used with at least a little caution, for god's sake. There are also some slightly larger fireworks in much shorter supply, from a shop, that will be closely guarded until someone with pyrotechnics talent convinces Palamedes they deserve one. Godspeed.

Broadly: this is a fireworks party (tm) for individual wee ones you can throw around on your own, with only a brief smattering of the big ones that light up the whole sky above the field. It's a chill time for cool buds, fire safety is encouraged, so is vibing on the blankets and enjoying a nice evening.

At various times, local dope musician Anna Amarande will be providing some light musical entertainment, for vibes.

the bunker i guess.

The party is not in here, but for reference:
-it's locked via numpad and neither of these stickbug nerds are giving out the code but they'll open the door if asked... you don't have to leave the place to go to the bathroom lmf
-it's a bunker. it's one room and a bathroom in the back. it's full of disorganized nerd stuff and an oversized moon orb and pal's mean omen, rocky the cool rat (harpy eagle), who will aggressively flap at anyone with sticky fingers until they leave
-the code is 69420 so if you're super funny like gideon you COULD guess it

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[sansa laughs in delight; acknowledging a relationship is a very big deal in westerosi high society, and this is an attitude she finds difficult to shake.]

Yes! Now I can be happy for you! That's wonderful!

[she glances at the ground as if she's looking for a place to sit. it is a little unfortunate that the blanket must be wet.]

Rushlights burn out too quickly, I don't know if you know them. Candles last longer, because they have more wax to support them.

[she's trying to articulate a metaphor for burnout, but is perhaps not entirely capable of getting there herself at the moment. another metaphor?]

[Okay, not his preferred taste. She wipes her hand over his drink again while listening to Sansa talk. It now tastes like chocolate milkshake.

Adaine isn't a beacon of political subtlety and social grace, but she can take a hint. She raises an eyebrow at Sansa, a twinge of annoyance at her for not telling her what this introduction's about. She shakes it off pretty quickly.

Note to self: Teach Sansa the message cantrip.

It seems like comparing notes would be fruitful in this case.]

Okay, yeah, tea and cake sounds nice. I probably won't have to use any magic on them.

The Sanctuary is a lamp location, right?

[She then points at Lazarus from inside the pockets of her jacket, a thin piece of wire curled around her finger. Nobody else will hear her voice except him.]

Is this sanctuary safe from prying eyes and ears?

[she can't give an easy or clear answer to that. she doesn't know how to, not while she's still feeling things out. not while she doesn't have a clear answer herself. so she draws in a slow breath and considers what to say. and, well. she's not totally devoid of that kind of answer.]

There's a story I know. From back home. It's about this little girl who was scared to death of a Butzemann. A boogeyman. [might as well make it clear who she's talking about.] She only ever heard one story about her, but her mind kept inventing bigger and bigger things just from that one little story. The only thing she knew for sure was that the boogeyman was strong—stronger than her, and probably very deadly.

She kept spinning these stories over and over in her head, building up the boogeyman to be even worse, even more dangerous. Ruthless, murderous, terrifying. [there are parts of this story, born from her own history, that she hasn't told anyone about. now's as good a time as any.] Thoughts of her kept the girl up at night, shaking in her bed and begging for the sunlight so she could pretend everything was okay again.

And then one day, out of nowhere... she met the boogeyman. And she started talking to her instead of running. And she learned just how much of what she'd built up was just exaggeration. How many things she'd assumed from just the tiniest little bit of information, and how much of it was totally wrong.

[she leans back, crosses her arms over her chest. lets her cigarette dangle.]

And that's kind of the end of the story, or at least the part of it that matters here. But it's a story about how one girl can let her imagination get the better of her, and how sometimes, it's just the result of trying to find answers when you don't have any. And it's a cautionary tale, too. Imagine if she'd been right. Imagine what would've happened to her if the Butzemann was exactly as murderous and vengeful as she thought.

[From what L has read, he can piece together why this is significant, and also delightful, for Sansa. His own smile spreads, emboldened by the positive reaction.]

Thank you, truly... I've never had something like that to announce before.

[And as relationships go, so far it's quite a chaste one. Both he and Shoyo have dedicated their young lives to other matters, and are fumbling through what might be expected of a relationship as though they were many years younger, by the relatively coddled standards of their worlds as opposed to one like Sansa's.]

Through context, I think I understand your meaning.

[It's not the first time he's heard something like that. A bulb burning twice as brightly, burning twice as fast; men like him tend not to live long or happily, but they leave such a legacy behind.]

Moving into the Rookery has helped, you know. I didn't realize how much energy I was expending just trying to keep on top of my moving schedule until it ceased.

[sansa gives adaine a curious smile back–she thought she'd made herself perfectly clear by referencing their previous conversation, where she suggested adaine talk to lazarus (and she suspects adaine was unable to find him through magic because lazarus is a fake name, and adaine had only wanted the names of her enemies for the trap spell, so her magic must have something to do with names, somehow). she has also perhaps overestimated the degree to which other people want to network at parties. every party is a work party for the highborn career girls of westeros. besides, she really does think adaine and lazarus will enjoy talking about magic and so forth.]

Yes, Lord Mackenzie taught me the trick of brewing tea! I never burn [oversteep] it anymore. I could even make it for us at my house, sometime.

[her private, well-warded house, hidden in plain sight in the safest district in trench, covered in ravens who love to squawk and chatter at the slightest intrusion...the paleblood sanctuary is a good place to study, and it would be well for all of them to train there, but it does amplify the power of all palebloods, and she's not sure they could manage to reserve the whole thing for a clandestine discussion.]

Edited 2022-06-24 19:54 (UTC)

He winces in sympathy. He's seen the combination of stairs and four legs. Trench does fairly well with accessibility, but nothing is standardized.

"Are you looking to continue teaching here now that you've settled in more? Like what you did back home? Teaching... uh, magic?" he guesses.

It's a common enough word for things not necessarily of the physical realm. It's also something he knows barely anything about. He's got his own specialties elsewhere, so the interest in his eyes is only casual, a general sort of investment in someone else's passion.

[Iskandar performs the most elegant bird bow he can. It doesn't come half as bad.
As much as this form is annoying, no, endlessly frustrating for limiting his ability to express himself - something he has always taken for granted - he finds his ways.

Come to think about it, birds can be pretty expressive in their own way.

It doesn't mean he wouldn't want to be back in his own body. For more reasons than being able to talk to people.]

He tilted his head. It was always an interesting experience to discuss what it was that he did with people outside of his community. Before arriving in Trench, it wasn't something he would have dreamed of.

The Mages Association would have had him killed.

"In a word... yes."

It was far more complex, but he didn't want to bore the boy with unnecessary details.

"I'm the head of the Modern Magecraft department at the institution I work in. With luck, I do hope to return to teaching here. What that looks like, however, isn't something I've figured out yet."

There were plenty of capable teachers associated with the school in Gaze, after all. There were also a number of young people that didn't attend school regularly...

"I can teach more than that, too. Magecraft is equal parts history and science with extra details thrown in. The only standard classes I'd probably have trouble teaching are the arts, physical education, and the maths."

Remembering how Shouto shied away from the offer, he refrained from adding that he was willing to help young heroes with their education as it suited their schedule.

The very one,

[Waver explained, looking up at the stranger with a wearied sigh. He knew it was considered rude-- however--]

I've played social at parties often enough to know that I don't like the standard set of rules. This is at least more interesting, and I don't feel like I need to play society's games like this.

"We're from different worlds, but some things stay the same... I take general classes at the School of Mutter, but most of it has been from home. I haven't been able to stay regularly. I have hero work, stuff keeps happening, and I miss class. But I've met a few English speakers that I practice with. Math though..."

He sighs like a climber who knows he has to train more before attempting the mountain. Math...

"English history is probably really interesting though, right?" He's from Japan, so it would be a little more interesting to him, but he asks anyway.

He perked up at this, and offered the boy an encouraging smile.

"Well, yes. But don't feel like you need to limit yourself. Normal universities would probably want to hire me for a humanities position, which includes quite a bit of world history. It's a matter of the lens that you're viewing the records with--"

Waver stopped himself, once more not wanting to spook Midoriya. History through the perspective of the arts and sciences was far more coloful than looking at the records of wars, law, and kings.

Sighing, he reeled himself in and cast a look at a certain bird on the other side of the party.

"I have a vested interest in the history and stories of the ancient Greek as well."

[He doesn't expect to hear a tale fully laid-out in the fashion of a bedtime story, but he has to hear a whole lot of nonsense before he's willing to write something off as likely to be completely meaningless.

So, he listens, horned head slightly canted, with silent attention and respect, until she has reached the story's conclusion. And he was right; it was not, in fact, completely meaningless.]

I imagine that often, because when it comes to monsters, that's the more common tale.

[A benevolent one would be the outlier, he thinks. The lucky escape, the day a murderer just didn't feel like killing.

What he says next is spoken in very correct Hochdeutsch, not native but studied in meticulous detail.]

I'd say that any Butzemann deserves caution until it's proven that it's undeserving of suspicion. To be called a Butzemann at all means that there's a reason, however tiny. If an enemy is simply maliciously lying about their nature... there's a reason one has enemies, too.

[as the words come out in german, anna visibly relaxes. it feels like adding another layer of security to the conversation. and, given lazarus' response, it feels like they are finally on close enough pages that anna can drop the pretense. and thank god for that.]

[she replies, the conversation continuing in Hochdeutsch, or at least as close enough to it as anna can recall.]

He doesn't even know that I could be his enemy yet. I wouldn't be a good one, since he's stronger than me by a mile, but I could still be one in a way that would be really inconvenient for him. [she could make it hurt, she leaves unsaid. no matter how right she thinks she is.]

[L takes another sip, officially impressed by the trick. Now it's very much to his taste, and he takes another, deeper sip.

And then, as the conversation cordially continues around tea and cakes, something else happens. He's about to answer when he realizes that Sansa seems not to have heard. He furrows his brow, nodding as if along with the rest of the conversation, but letting eye contact with Adaine linger a little longer so she knows it's a little more targeted.

He wants, very much, to find out how she did this. In the meantime...]

Your house should be very comfortable for the purpose, Alayne.

[He would know; he lives there too, but he's not sure how much Sansa wants that getting out.]

[That change doesn't go unnoticed. L won't shift his dialect back, knowing as much.]

There are different kinds of strength, especially in numbers. Especially where cleverness counts. You should use what he doesn't know... and hold off until you know it's a shot worth taking. Just my opinion, for what it's worth.

It's a good opinion.

[god help her, it really feels like a burden has been lifted. saying it straight like this to somebody, no bedtime stories, no metaphors, no lies.]

I don't know how many times I'll get lucky with the Butzemann in my life. But I don't want to play these cards or make him pay for anything if he really hasn't done anything wrong. That's not justice, that's slaughter.

[L actually laughs at that, sudden and quavery.]

It's not that I don't understand, but... with so much contempt for the hosts, why bother coming at all? There are reasons to show up, even if you don't like to talk to people. Food, for instance.

It's not contempt,

[He said neutrally, brows lifting in the expression of someone who didn't see what the problem was here. ]

I like Palamedes. Viktor seems fine as well. I've also been giving glow sticks to the kids-- as you see.

[He gestured towards young Shouto Todoroki, who had taken a small handful to split between himself and his friend in a wheelchair. Young love was always a stage to behold... ]

I merely don't wish to be disingenuous any longer. There's no reason to play by the unwritten rules of society if no one here cares.

There is, in fact, nothing just about slaughter.

[And his eyes linger on her for a moment, as if pondering how to say what he's considering, and then decides not to.]

Your instincts are there for a reason. We have a sense for whether or not these things are right, innately, so... don't let that atrophy because you've been charmed. Butzemänner are very good at that, you know.

Even if you'd prefer not to converse... actions speak, and the token ones shout. Hypocrisy's even louder; it seems like the unwritten rules of society matter a lot to you, as long as you're the only one who's allowed to break them.

[Waver did practically greet him by scolding him for sneaking up.]

You never answered my question about the bunker. Do you stand to gain or lose more by just leaving it alone?

[without saying anything else quite yet, she takes a final drag, ashes her cigarette, and shoves the butt against the bark of the tree. despite the force in her actions, she speaks calmly.]

Und Sie? [the question shouldn't be a surprise to someone like lazarus, or at least she doesn't think it would come off that way. not with the way he's been talking. not with the words he's been choosing. the only thing that might be a surprise is how she's speaking formally as she continues, still in the language that she expects only the two of them to understand.]

What are your instincts telling you about our friendly neighborhood Butzemann, exactly? Would you have started running already?

[Adaine relaxes as L nods, and at Sansa's suggestion. Yes, that's much easier. She won't mentally engage in semantics about only being alerted at the nature of this conversation a few sentences ago, but she feels like she's on more solid footing at the moment.]

Alright, well, I think we can reconvene there. The lanterns are convenient for this sort of thing...

[Much easier than walking!]

[sansa laughs a little–she hadn't meant right now, but adaine does look relieved at the prospect of leaving the party. sansa had thought adaine might like a few more introductions, but perhaps she already knows the other mages.]

Oh, all right, if you'd like to leave now. I should tell Allen goodbye, and Lady's gone underneath a table again. She'll be very glad to go home, I think.

[sansa smiles fondly in the direction of lady, hiding under a table from cherry bomb noises. she hopes she has enough cake...]

Und ich.

[He answers quietly, deeply pensive, caution lacing both syllables. He speaks like this too, generally, defaulting to the less familiar forms.

Others might say wir können "du" doch sagen, but he assumes this presonal distance is normal, even as the conversation grows increasingly more intimate and perilous.]

Running relies on two things: being fast enough, and knowing that you won't be followed. My instincts tell me that it's not the correct course to take.

[maybe this is a little much for someone she hasn't gotten to du terms with yet, but that's a chance she'll have to take.]

What would you have done? To get him to follow you, if you tried to run away. What reason would he have to hunt you down like that? [she's speaking in german, still. they're on similar pages, she thinks. she'll offer her own answer, then.] Because for me, I'm a living encyclopedia of every lie he's ever told his people.

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closedish to cool guys having chill day

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