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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"You have no idea..."

Whether or not Anna recognized him didn't matter at the moment. Waver Velvet was just glad to be looking more like his usual self while Bausphomet's magic was at play. Although he had the lower body of a centaur-- and fuzzy black ears that blended in with the long hair he had tied back and the tail that he had neatly braided for safety's sake. The manner of speech and the somewhat dour manner should be familiar enough, at least.

He could have done it himself, but having an excuse to chill with Anna was always worth it. Besides, it gave him something to do while Iskandar entertained himself with the teenagers at the snack table.

"So. A fighter, an academic, a pirate, and a musician? Is there anything you can't do?"

The question was genuine. He was curious.

"Excellent choice in music, by the way. It's been a while since I heard any of Blue Oyster Cult besides that one that's always on the radio. The kids don't know how to appreciate Buck Dharma."

Oh, the appearance is wild, and yet—well, she's familiar enough with the magic by now, the stuff floating in the air that she can't put her finger on but that's somehow managed to pass her by. And she's definitely familiar with the demeanor of Waver, so it's not hard to realize who she's talking to. Least of all once he lists off her accolades, and she gives him a dry laugh before passing over a cigarette and lighting it with her own blood.

"Used to know that one, but it got too hard to program in enough cowbell," she jokes. "Besides, 'Burnin' for You' just hits harder, you know? Maybe I am livin' for givin' the devil his due."

As for his question, once she's a little more settled and leaning back against the tree, she scoffs just a little. "Anyway, yeah, there's a lot of stuff I can't do. You just hit all the stuff that makes up the whole... Gestalt of my life. Military historian parents who pushed me to learn a whole bunch about shit that I go out of my way not to think about, combat android battle data downloaded right into my dome, long-ass history of live music being the only place I feel like I belong..." She takes half a breath and half a drag.

"Oh, add tech support to the list if you gotta. But that's probably where it stops. I can't do everything. Don't know how to ride horses, for example." A sly look.

"You don't need to ride a horse to be called a Rider. A ship is fine, too."

It likely didn't matter to Anna, but it mattered to him. Despite everything, he had called out for a Rider during his first hours in the ocean and one had arrived to save him. Sure, she was at the helm of a borrowed ship and not on the chariot that had been bound by Gordius-- but she was still a Rider.

Such little things meant to world on try someone who didn't believe in coincidences.

Casting her a wry look of his own, he took a drag from the cigarette and just enjoyed the simplicity of it for a moment.

"We're all living for giving the devil his due here, but I can't help but wonder if he isn't doing us some favors as well." He exhaled, releasing a plume of smoke towards the sky. "It's been over a month since I could do this. The tailoring has been a pain-- but this? It's pretty okay."

Edited 2022-05-19 20:53 (UTC)

"Could be. You know, I did always think the devil was pretty cool," she says, in one of the least surprising sentences of her life. She takes a long drag and blows it out away from the rest of the party, and the nicotine does less for her now than it has in the past but it feels very comforting.

"What do you mean 'rider', though?" She has no desire to reveal that she's the bottom in her relationship, but she can't really piece the rest together on her own. "That a special thing from your whole... everything?" she asks, gesturing a little with her cigarette. When in doubt, generally it's safe to assume that it's magic wizard bullshit.

He eyed her ponderously over his wire glasses, wondering how far he could go with his explanations before the memories of the Fourth Holy Grail War compelled him to freeze or attempt to flee. Not even a decade of time and distance had been enough to heal the wounds on his psyche, and in many ways Waver was as haunted as Anna was by the things that no one could change.

Tipping the ash from his cigarette into the dirt, he mulled over all of this with a tightened jaw before finally releasing a sigh.

She deserved some answers.

"You're right," he said. "There's seven classes of hero the can be summoned they the Grail to participate in one of its rituals. Rider is one of them, and the one that came to me when I made my covenant a decade ago"

She watched his jaw set but didn't comment on it further. Everybody had secrets, everybody had their own lives to live, and from what little Waver had told her about everything back home, it sounded like he had more than enough of his own history to complicate things.

"Well, I never thought of myself as much of a Rider, but if you keep getting rescued by us, then who am I to argue, you know? Unless you can think of a better option for me." She thought on it for only a moment—she didn't know the other classes, of course, but Iskandar could only have one reason for being a Rider. "So did he come with Bucephalus, or did he have to find another horse that could handle him?"

"He did, but not in a constant physical sense."

This was where explanations about Servants and their capabilities grew muddied. Waver lifted a brow at her.

"The Fourth Holy Grail War took place in a tiny Japanese suburb. The chickens I brought were noticeable; I can't imagine how a war horse would have gone over!"

It was a dry attempt at levity, for the sake of buying time and easing the mood. Such things were needed at times.

"The summoned Servants need an external anchor to interact with the world as we do. Even then, it requires a certain amount of mana expended by the Master in order for that to happen. Both the Servants and their equipment-- including their steeds, like Bucephalus-- can take a non-corporeal form and manifest physically at will."

He glanced over towards the snack table, where a certain golden eagle was hopping amid the snacks and playing with the teenagers, and snorted in amusement. With a gesture, cigarette smoke swirling around them, he motioned for Anna to look.

"You see how he is as a bird? He was worse when it came to the... physicality of the experience. He wanted to engage with everything regardless of how he presented or looked to everyone else. I had a helluva time even convincing him to wear pants."

Not that Waver was currently wearing pants himself...

Edited 2022-05-23 01:11 (UTC)

She absolutely did see the way he was as a bird and couldn't help but grin at the whole display. So this was Alexander the Great, huh? Well, history had a way of lionizing even the greatest.

"That does make sense, though. I mean, nobody from Macedonian times wore pants anyway, right?" And she grinned again, redirecting it towards Waver. "So that was your first taste? Just a big eyeful of Lil' Alex the second he showed up?" And she nudged his arm, knowing she was definitely not saying something appropriate. "Lucky you."

But talking about Alexander the Great's dick could only take her so far. She wondered whether it was safe to discuss as she took another drag.

"Four Holy Grail Wars, huh? How did that small Japanese suburb handle a big Catholic war taking place right in the middle of it?"

"I wouldn't exactly--"

--Do you see the sheer embarrassment on his face, Anna? Waver recalled the thrill he had when the mists cleared around the summoning circle that those poor chickens had died for and Iskandar's presence was revealed. He may have been nervously biting his lip-- but bear no doubts, Waver lost his shit in that instant.

No reason to resume that pitiful denial.

"It wasn't quite that early, Anna. We may have been in a war, but I was a pretentious little shit that didn't know when to shut up."

They're was no shame in his words. He absolutely was a complete brat. It was how he had come so far.

"Not just four. There's a fifth on the horizon. I plan to get my hosts from last time out of harm's way, even if I must email them the flight plans." He scoffed. The fact that the Mage's Association had passed up his candidacy after he tried entering through legitimate means still bothered him.

No matter.

"It's not just a Catholic idea. A mysterious wish granting artifact is present in most mythologies, but the Grail was the most renowned of them. The name and details aren't important.

We... Have our methods of keeping the general population safe, and it would have worked ten years ago if the Caster pair weren't also serial killers. We needed outside assistance from the Association and the Church to cover up the...uh..."

He trailed, frowning as he mentally fumbled on how to even describe the eldritch monstrosity that the duo had created with their bloodlust and madness.

"... Let's call it the Lovecraftian Horror that they created. It took four out of seven teams working in tandem to take it out before it reached the riverbank and started feeding on the population."

Now, it would be fun to keep teasing Waver for being attracted to Iskandar. She could do that for days, honestly. But he's talking about something far too serious to keep joking, so she stops. Listens to him talk about the war he lived through, and the war on the horizon back home. She was lucky enough, she thinks, to be pulled from home in times of peace. It must weigh on him in ways that he doesn't show, and she has the strangest feeling that that's a practiced skill.

"Riders and Casters," she mutters. She's building a more complete list so far. "So alchemists, then, right? People like Paracelsus or Cagliostro." The names are only barely remembered from some long-dormant corner of her mind. And dredging up that same corner brings her a memory that almost makes her drop her cigarette when it hits.

"Astolfo, Paladin of Charlemagne." Charles the Great. Of course it made sense. Of course everything about her life is starting to connect, years and years after it mattered. "Does that name sound familiar to you? As a combatant in one of the Holy Grail Wars, or, like, as a potential, or... something?"

Surprise wrote over his face at the nature of the question, and Waver found himself contemplating this with curiosity.

"... It seems like the Caster I encountered was Gilles de Rais, a French knight who became a killer. Why wouldn't someone from French folklore have a seat in the Throne of Heroes?"

"I... one of the people who mattered a lot to me from home," she started, trying to think of the least embarrassing way to refer to Astin. "Once, they told me that they were a Heroic Spirit. They were transforming, the same way I was. They were kind of the first person I told my whole story to... not the transformation part, either. The part about who I was between moving to the city and then."

She tasted their lips on the end of her cigarette.

"There was a part of my life that summer where I turned into a different version of myself... one who didn't know who Astin was. When the real me came back, they'd fallen off the app." She probably needed to explain that part, but. Maybe not. She knocked her head against the back of the tree and looked out, instead, at the people gathered. The ones she knew, the ones she didn't. The friends and loved ones she'd made in her time here.

"They didn't remember me except as this girl from down the hall that they thought was hot. They didn't remember any of the stuff about Astolfo, or... any of the conversations we'd had."

Where Anna tasted memories, Waver tasted the years he had wasted dreaming before learning that his idea was ultimately impossible. He looked up at the darkening sky, and in his mind's eye he saw Okeanos-- the ultimate impossibility of them all.

"You've mentioned that happening to other friends you had made in that city as well," he ventured, trying to imagine the grief, emptiness, and terror that must have struck.

"... That's my worst fear, you know. People I've met regarding me as a stranger. I'm sorry that keeps happening to you."

"Mm."

She wasn't completely sure how to reply to a genuine feeling of sympathy. Never was. But she knew very clearly that Waver meant it.

"There's a chance they really did remember, you know?" she added after a fair amount of silence. "A friend of mine was never going to make it past 25 without the help of the way her body was changing. She bought another year of her life, but as soon as she fell off, it was back to her normal life."

Another puff of air, but with no smoke behind it this time, like she'd forgotten to take the drag at all. "They found my name with hearts next to it in her phone after she died. That's how I got invited to her funeral. So maybe she still remembered who I was after all, somewhere in the back of her head. Whole lot of good that does me now, though."

"Sometimes, that much is all we'll ever get."

He didn't believe in coincidences. The odds of such incidents being random were too unlikely. Once something is written on a page, evidence of it's existence remains after the letters have been erased.

It made sense that the mind was the same way.

Silence passed with only the puffs of their cigarettes for few moments while Waver pondered these happenings. The multitude of parallels and similar themes between worlds was almost too much to contemplate, not unlike the overall cosmology of his world as he understood it.

He lacked the breadth and depth of knowledge possessed by the Animusphere clan--however:

"Anna Amarande. I believe it's possible for fate and free will to exist at the same time. Two truths that appear to be at odds-- just like how water is both deadly but necessary for life."

He lowered his cigarette and regarded her with the tired sincerity of a philosopher, or someone who has taught their share of budding heroes.

"It's no accident that we're all here in the same space and time. Even if we don't know the reasons, we can still use our experiences as a base for whatever is coming.

"Maybe, your lost friends will even show up here one day... Like mine did."

"You know," she started, and she glanced over at him from her good eye and stretched out the arm holding the cigarette above her head. Despite herself, a friendly smile found its way to her face.

"You sound a hell of a lot like my old boss right now. He was telling me once about how all of us found our way into Recollé even though most of us came from somewhere else. And he said that we were destined to meet each other there, in the city, because we were all... maybe not designed to be vessels for these souls, but because the city had this way of drawing the right vessels into it.

"But none of us were ever stuck there. We always had the choice to leave whenever we wanted. It's just that most of us... well, we decided to stay. We had lives there. Friends, family, loved ones. So our free wills brought us right into the middle of our destinies. And I'll be the first to say it—I never liked the idea of destiny." She turned her head, held up her cigarette between two fingers without drawing from it. Smirked. "But being destined for something can feel pretty goddamn good.

"So no. It's probably not an accident that we're here. All our lives are unfolding in the right direction," she repeated, even if she was the only one who knew she was repeating it. "Whether anyone I know from home shows up here or not, I'm finally starting to get the idea that I'm in the right place where I am."

She finally drew from that cigarette of hers, which she knew she'd probably need a replacement for soon. When she was done, she fixed Waver with that sideways look of hers. "I really liked working for Zee. Getting the feeling it'll be the same with you."

"Is that so?"

He asked, casting her an amused smile. It was rare in his life to just be taken at face value-- and rarer still for someone to compare him to another favorably. Drawing from his cigarette, he added:

"I'll take a compliment when I hear one. You'll have to tell me more about your life and friends in that city, Recolle, someday. Whenever you comfortable doing so."

The little bits he had heard so far sparked his interest, and he couldn't help but wonder about the convergence of powers and events had led to such a large scale, complex venture to be attempted. Some things were impossible to know-- but, he knew better than most that telling stories about someone who had been lost was one way to keep them alive.

It was, after all, how he had survived the last decade.

"And I feel like my sentiments are similar to yours. You remind me quite a bit of Gray, my apprentice. She's not as... worldly as you in many ways, but the both of you have the same kind of determined will that I find I like working with. The number of parallels between us is... strange. Perhaps, that's why we mesh so well."

"Maybe so."

She'd like to learn more about Gray herself, honestly. She's heard a little bit so far and the similarities are undeniable, but the whole point of what she's trying to do lately is getting more facts so she doesn't just assume a whole lot of things from how familiar someone is to her. It wouldn't get her in trouble with Waver or Gray, she was pretty sure of that, but it's starting to feel like it's bitten her in the ass once already with someone much more powerful than either of them.

"Tell you what. You get your sea legs back," she starts, joking just a little, "And I'll come over and spill about Recollé. Not to get poetic about it or anything, but... there's a lot of people there where it feels like I'm the only one who remembers their stories."

And even then, she's not sure she has them 100%. But that's not the point, really, behind the wistful tone her sentences have picked up.

"I'd love to help other people remember them with me."

He smiled. Avoiding assumptions was always a good move. However, once the impossible had been ruled out then whatever remained, no matter how improbable, had to be true. Although they were from very different realities, from what he could tell, they had enough of a shared culture to infer that their worlds had at least been cut from the same bolt of cloth.

It was nice, being able to interact with a peer with the same ease that he had around his students.

"Sometimes stories are all that the world will ever have of people... and, sometimes, those stories can be enough. In the meanwhile, I am starting to feel like I'm getting my 'sea legs' back. Even if I'm behind... at least I should be able to run faster than an average person right now."

Horse joke. Get it?

"I would love to hear those stories, Anna. I won't even ask you to cook when you come-- we can just get takeout that day and chat. Maybe even do some PvP later, if you wanna see my set up."

"Yeah?"

She got the horse joke, but the promise of going 1v1 in something with Waver was something new entirely. She tilted her neck until it cracked, which was an increasingly impressive feat since she didn't exactly have many vertebrae left, and turned her body to hit him with a cocky grin.

"Been a while since I've gone up against someone. Used to be pretty okay with stuff like that in college. Fighting games, yeah?" Oh, this was gonna be fun. "How about this. We eat shitty takeout and do matches all night. Whoever loses has to tell a story about their home." She knew that Waver was probably gonna be on his nocturnal shit, and Anna didn't really object to it. Sure, she had someone to come home to, but Waver lived close enough that she didn't feel like she had to caution Kainé about anything.

"I've got fighting games, strategy games, co-op games, FPS games..."

Surprise, surprise. He was an actual gamer, Anna. He had a little bit of everything at his disposal.

"That's an excellent proposal. I look forward to taking you down."

Though, in reality, they would both fall before Iskandar before long.

"Oh yeah? You got fuckin'... Guitar Hero?" she asks, having no personal skin in the rhythm game wars of the early 2010s. She is unfamiliar with the various nuances between Guitar Hero II, Guitar Hero III, and Guitar Hero: Metallica, let alone the differences between the Guitar Hero and Rock Band series. Anyone who does keep that much of their mental space dedicated to such weird minutiae, she thinks, should probably do some mental rearranging.

"I could kick your ass in Guitar Hero if you want. Any day of the week." She performs just the tiniest bit of mechanically accurate air guitar.

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