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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He laughs, maybe a little too loudly and brightly at her comment in jest. He tries; it just frequently backfires when his efforts to be more naturally human come off as more artificially glib.]

You're welcome.

[The compliment about her talent was, at least, sincere. His own hand extends with some hesitance, because the heat rolling off of him isn't something he's 100% sure he can control. Burning someone horribly makes for a poor first impression, ass a general rule.]

Anna? It's Lazarus Sauveterre.

[He's generous, offering his first and last names. Mostly because they're both fake.]

Usually I look human, and a lot less intimidating. Others have shaken the patron effect already, but it seems to be the case that it's tenacious for me. Most things, honestly, are.

[He considers for a moment.]

If you were there when we had that campsite committed to bringing down Paul's Leviathan, you might have seen me around, though I stayed in the recon tent, for the most part.

[if she gets burned, she doesn't seem to actually show it; her hand isn't glowing when she pulls it back, at least, and there's apparently no pain registering on her face at all.]

Good to meet you. [lazarus is a hell of a name. she'll probably find a way to shorten it. hope he likes initialisms.] I was there when we had to deal with the whole Leviathan thing, yeah. I actually, uh... okay, so he lent it to me, but I went out there on one of Teacher's boats to handle the assault at sea.

[and as it occurs to her, she tilts her head.] Or whatever you know him by, you know? The guy with black eyes. But yeah, I was definitely out there on the frontlines most of the time. Surprised we missed each other—were you at Paul's party?

[In fairness, L's lived a large portion of his life with just about the shortest possible name it's possible to have. Maybe having a hell of one is a nice change of pace, now that he's here in Trench with a wealth of options, available.

He can have almost any of them, so long as they're not real.

He's careful not to let his even expression falter or flicker at that title. Anna's not the only one he's heard use it, and though that individual goes by many names, there's no mistaking them, is there?]

He's said to be generous, in the face of the needful. And... yes, I was there.

[Stealing a journal.]

For a little while, anyway. I'm a bit of a wallflower; you probably wouldn't have seen me.

Mm. He's said to be a lot of things.

[she's just the slightest bit terse about it, but isn't going full obvious about how she feels quite yet. the way that she glances very slightly away from lazarus as she says it might give a little more away.]

Well, glad we ran into each other eventually, you know? Pretty much everybody at that party turned out to be pretty cool, far as I know. But I was on spice for most of it, so maybe my judgment's not great. Maybe a wallflower like you has a better idea of what the overall vibe was.

["Full obvious" has never been necessary for L to catch a suggestion, an inkling or a quirk that deviates from the expected. He takes careful note of her word choice, his own nod slower and more meaningful than what might otherwise be offhand enough to communicate that he is merely paying attention to the conversation on a basic level.]

I think that it is, in fact, good that we met.

[And he lets that hang like a tattered sheet pinned in the sun to dry, before clearing his throat.]

Do you doubt your own perception of the "vibe?"

[He actually envies the people who could let themselves slip under the influence, so much that he's drinking tonight, and not imbibing moderately.]

[oh? maybe so. maybe she's always been more obvious than she thought, or maybe she's just lucked into somebody with the same level of creeping doubt about their kindly prince. either way, this seems like a good place to let it lay for the immediate moment. they have only just met, after all.]

I mean, I know I felt good, but I was drunk and high on space drugs and, like, making out with my girlfriend on the couch all night. [she smiles idly at that last one. yeah. that vibe had been exquisite.] But I only talked to a handful of people, and I did kind of break into the study and see some weird shit in there, so, like. I don't know. Maybe the vibe was way off the whole time and I was just too out of it to tell.

It sounds like you were happy.

[And yes, he is envious, on that level, because he is never happy, never satisfied, always chasing more until he's gone too far. At home he had someone to keep that from happening, most of the time; here, there is no one, only his raw ambition and reckless nerve.]

You broke into the study? What did you see that was... "weird?"

[As if he didn't break in, and more besides. He is still gauging what is safe to share, if anything.]

[she was pretty happy, now that she thinks back on it. now that he mentions it. but she's not really planning on dwelling on the idea too much, because it's... well. she still doesn't know what that question that lazarus asked is really supposed to imply. whether the demon she's in a conversation with would find what she saw particularly strange, or if it's just kind of normal for him. she lets out a puff of air.]

Oh, you know. Papers, books. Exposed bones protected by what was almost definitely blood magic. Normal things for a normal person's normal study. At least when you're dealing with someone who's that particular kind of magical, I'm sure.

[Oh, he knows. Probably things she doesn't, considering what he stole and what he paid for it, but if there's even one thing she knows, something that he missed, or couldn't get because Bone House is all but barred to him...]

You're not familiar with "that particular kind of magic", I take it. But if you were in that house, some of your friends practice it, so it can't be nothing at all.

I'm not familiar with any kind of magic, really. Technology's more my thing. [which is not a surprise to anybody who knows the bullshit powering her body, even if she's considered it magical many times in the past.]

Not sure how many people I know practice blood magic, but maybe they're keeping it a secret from me. Only one I can be sure of is the guy who owns the house. [she shrugs a little, not appearing to give much thought to it.] And... I mean, friend's not the best word? But, like, I see your point.

You thinking I should try to get into it myself? [a grin that's almost playful.] Make friends and influence people through the power of fucked up magic rituals?

What is the best word, if you had to choose one?

[He's aware that he might be pressing a little too closely on this one, giving her reason to be wary of why he might want to know. He considers potential gains worth the possibility of putting her off a bit with his interest.]

What you do with regards to it is your own business, of course, but... I was just wondering, on account of finding it particularly interesting. Reanimating the dead and manipulating the power of life and death for your own designs is a great deal of power.

[Is your "friend, but not quite the best word" worthy of handling it?]

[it's a bit of pressure that she wasn't expecting to face, and lazarus places it directly on the epicenter of her doubts. it is power. it's too much power. it's too much power for one man to handle, let alone a man who transformed himself into a god, and she's certain by now that whatever kind of person he is, whatever might happen between them in the future, it will be apocalyptic news for trench should he get the urge to stretch his metaphorical legs.]

[she fills all that time spent thinking with an almost methodically slow drag of her cigarette. by the time she's finished, whether she's thought of an answer or not, she knows she'll have to give one.]

Well, I know that "teacher" isn't it. Everything I've really learned about him I had to teach myself. Could call him a mistake, if I wanted to be an edgy asshole about it. [her eye sweeps the demonic form before her again.] Not that you'd know edgy or anything.

You think I wouldn't know "edgy?"

[He laughs, as though that's a completely understandable misconception.]

Try me; I might surprise you.

[either he's gently prying for more information or he has no concept of sarcasm. either way, it gets a grin on anna's face.]

Yeah? Let's just say I thought he was one kind of person just 'cause we recognized a lot of the same stuff. Turns out I trusted him too easy because of it and now I'm thinking I made a couple mistakes I can't take back.

[she wouldn't usually be so susceptible to this, but lazarus, she thinks, is starting to make it just a little clearer where he falls. she thinks—though this was the whole problem in the first place—that she can get away with sharing this.]

[The goggle-eyed affected innocence L wears so easily on his exaggerated features sharpens slightly, looks a little shrewder.]

Well. That's not very productive... thinking in terms of mistakes you can't take back.

[Not that fatal missteps don't happen. L knows this better than anyone, although with the information he had and the resources available to him, his final case back home didn't end for that reason.

No, he'd played by the rules of the outlined game, and then been stricken down by a god, anyway.]

The question should be what a recovery would look like, and how you could manage it. Whether that means repairing a relationship, or...

[Doing battle, psychological or otherwise, with someone you realize you shouldn't have trusted?]

Mm. Maybe it's not super productive, but sometimes there's just some genies you can't put back in the bottle, you know? Just gotta live with that.

[she looks out in front of her and puts the cigarette to her lips without smoking from it just yet. she has to figure out the right way to answer lazarus while still keeping herself... guarded, more or less. even if he's damn close to where she's at. even if she's reading between the lines.]

Damn good question, you know? What's it look like, anyway? Walking a friendship back to something a little more distant. [a thoughtful pause as she takes a drag. holds it in. blows it out slowly and for dramatic effect.] Especially without letting him realize I'm doing it. Maybe I just have to get as ice cold as you are red hot.

Yes, I know; I specialize in damn good questions, especially lately.

[Swearing is easier for him, admittedly, when he looks like a devil.]

It all depends on the nature of the mistakes... and on who is more reluctant to let that distance manifest, I'd think. Are you afraid?

[He lets that linger for a bare, brief moment, before adding, as though it was just a pause in a complete sentence]

-of misjudging the situation?

[is she afraid? well, she's not stupid and knows that when she answers, she won't be answering the little part that he tacked on at the end. she knows what question she's being asked, really. so: is she? afraid of letting the distance grow? afraid of what might happen when the distance does grow? afraid that no amount of distance will ever be enough?]

[well. yes. yes to everything. she doesn't know how to pull back from a friendship with a god. especially not a god who's done the kinds of things that she suspects this god has done.]

I think so. [she admits it slowly, casting a knowing eye his way.] I think there's a lot of ways this situation could get misjudged even from where I'm sitting now. I think there's a lot to be afraid about. [she's talking quietly, as though the person in question will overhear them. she thinks she's figured out where lazarus stands, but that says very little for the rest of the party.]

But that's the problem, you know? [she probes out a little more, just to confirm.] When you get close to someone from your own world, but you only find out later what makes his world different from yours. But I bet I didn't need to say that, huh? Bet you already know exactly what makes this situation so worrying.

[L is asking those questions, the ones she suspects, and perhaps some that she doesn't. He's just like that, and his motives, while noble, are probably not directly in line with what she may be hoping to accomplish.

There is, in his experience, no true compromise or best of both worlds.]

I know some things, but I'd hate to misjudge anything before I have a sufficiently full understanding. Whether or not you get close to someone from your own world, there are bound to be differences... I suppose the true question is what you'd consider irreconcilable.

[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.

[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.]

[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.

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.

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