abraxaslogs | [ OPEN ] an informal event.

[ OPEN ] an informal event.

Who: the summoned of cadens
When: beginning of february
Where: the sarstina inn and tavern
What: sam is hitting two birds with one stone - his February (or whatever February means in abraxas time) family dinner AND a kind of new-summoned-social event. he even had hilda help spread the word!
Warnings: will update if needed!

THE DINNER

As per Hilda's invitation, if any of the Summoned come by Sarstina's that evening, they will find it set up a little differently than it's normal tavern sprawl. There is a large long table set up near the bar that has plenty of food spread out across it - which appears to look very southern-inspired in its intention, limited only by the kinds of ingredients a certain Sam Wilson can get his hands on. Behind the bar is Mag, who will serve whoever it is that comes up to ask for a drink - it appears someone is covering the tab tonight.

There are various tables and chairs set up around the place, as well as a stage on the corner for some live music from one of their very own later in the evening. The vibes is definitely low-key and casual - come get an ale, come eat some food, and if you're a new face there is a very good chance you'll end up (gently and in the most friendly way) cornered by either Sam, Hilda, or one of the other Summoned here to help answer questions and give a bit more background on what the hell is going on and also let you know about Mag's whole deal. Aka, if you're looking for a room until you're a little more on your feet, you are welcome here. Room and board in exchange for work. Not a big gig, right?

And if being social isn't your vibe, Sam's kind of betting on the fact there aren't many here who would turn down free food and drinks. And believe him - the food is pretty damn good.

OOC INFO

- this is a totally open post! I've got a TL below for various scenarios you can find Sam, but otherwise have fun, meet some people, put up a TL of your own! there are various places to run into people in the tavern, and if you find someone who is willing to help you into the Horizon, Sam's been letting people know they can use his room upstairs.

- Sam's only Rule is there will be no fighting. You want to duke it out? Take it somewhere else. There will not be warnings or second chances. Don't be an ass. He has lived in this Inn since he first got here and considers this his home, and if ANYONE is seen giving Mag a hard time, he will not hesitate. He's not afraid of squaring up, but you will not be invited back if you cause too many issues. :)

- this is open to any and all Summoned in Cadens, no matter loyalties or factions. Sam is going to be going overboard to be welcoming, especially to new faces. Even if your character didn't see the big invitation, feel free to have them invited by word of mouth.

- Mag is an NPC who you can read a little more about in the NPC section of the Cadens setting page. Feel free to have her come in and out of your tags as needed!

- any questions? message me at disarmingly

THE INN

Magmara (or Mag) has run the inn for years and has been a familiar face in that neighborhood as a woman who always made ends meet, almost in spite of the way she took care of her friends and neighbors above all else. Most weren't always sure how she managed to run the place on her own, but she made due, though she always seemed a bit overwhelmed and exhausted. When the Summoned arrived in the Cadens through that first portal, Sam managed to stumble in and make quick friends with Mag. In exchange for manual labor, fixing up and cleaning up the inn, as well as whatever other various tasks Mag needed to be done around, Sam would be given free room and board (a deal she now offers to any Summoned that arrives in the city for as long as they need it).

The inn itself is 4 floors tall, with the top three floors making up the 15 or so rooms (around five rooms per floor), and the entire bottom floor reserved for the restaurant area. The tavern makes up the entire first floor and is a large open floorplan, with a small stage in the corner, a walled-off area for the decently sized kitchen, and a large wooden bar where Mag does all her business for both the inn and tavern (where can almost always be found standing behind). It serves drinks of some variety (though not nearly as large a selection as some of the more well-known taverns) and some food (usually a single, large meal that will be served to the tenants and whoever comes in throughout the night for a moderate price). It can be busy some evenings, but in general tends to keep a more 'dive-bar' kind of feel, filled with more locals and regulars than a casual dinner-going crowd.

The rooms themselves vary from fairly simple, single-bed inn-style rooms with a small bathroom and little else, up to a two 'bedroom' suite style with small kitchenettes and spaces for sitting rooms. Each bedroom has its own small bathroom for the tenants, with cleaning, washing, and chores left to those who live there. What used to be more of a working inn now serves as a kind of boarding house for newly arrived Summoned (or simply those who won't leave), and Mag has found herself quite okay with that.

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[ He hasn't ever experienced homesickness like this either — nothing even close — but with so many people to meet and things to learn, with all the novelty Cadens alone provides, Blake doesn't have much time to linger on the thoughts. Or he doesn't allow himself the time, at least. Keep busy enough and your mind won't have a chance to go there. ]

Sure, think I could do that.

[ He's not the best artist, but he'll get his point across. He draws a boxy line across the page, some extending higher than others. As he does a quick separation with vertical lines, the buildings start to appear. ]

They're massive buildings made of glass and steel.

[ He fills in windows — more the indication of windows in places — and continues to add little details: a person for scale, clouds lingering on and around the building drawn fluffy to make it obvious. ]

Rooms stacked and stacked and stacked 'til you can't seem 'em up in the clouds. At night they glow with lights and people live or work in them. Not usually both unless they're really rich.

[ He draws a few light poles, the essence of the shoreline at the base of the buildings, and a few ripples to signify water as the downtown is right on the ocean as Blake had indicated. ]

It rains most days.

[ It doesn't matter that their quick scribbles aren't masterpieces, she's enraptured all the same. The concept of skyscrapers is difficult for her to wrap her head around but the little details for reference that Blake adds are appreciated, and she wonders, briefly what would be taller: a dragon or a skyscraper? Or maybe they'd be the same height. The thought sends a bit of a shiver down her spine. ]

That sounds amazing. Buildings taller than a castle and ones that reach the sky? It must be amazing to be in one of those.

Where do you live then?

It is really cool to be on the inside. Or on top.

[ And he says as much as he turns over his drawing and begins another. It's a rough map of Gotham with a section crosshatched. He draws a little "B" in one area, and "PD" in another over the shaded section. ]

My place is here. It's a section of the city that's old and crowded and mostly poor. It's also where I worked as a cop and just 'round the corner from where I grew up. But I don't live in the same place as I did when I was a kid.

[ He makes a couple little adjustments, adds a stick figure with a crest on the chest and a little police hat with a star, and then offers the drawing over for inspection. ]

Hey, Hil, how old're you?

[ At least eighteen from her own mouth, but beyond that he wants to say mid-twenties, if that. ]

I'd love to see one some day. [ Her voice is so wistful and her eyes starry, hungry for an experience she'd never get at home or here in Cadens. She cradles her chin in her hands, watching Blake continue his drawing feeling mildly soothed by it too. She's patient though, waiting for him to complete it before she can pull it in front of her to see.

Upon seeing the little stick figure with the police hat that she assumes has to be him, she lets out a soft laugh. Her fingers trace lightly over the "B" and "PD". ]

Do you live here? [ Her finger taps on the "B". ] And what does this "PD" stand for?

[ The question about her age, draws a curious glance from her. Mirth bubbles in her voice. ]

You know if you asked one of my professor's that she'd be really upset with you. [ Suddenly her voice changes as she does a scarily good rendition of Manuela's voice - not, that that would mean anything to Blake, but she's sure her friends from home would think it were a home run. This is all posturing and dramatics though; she doesn't really care about people knowing her age. At least not yet. Maybe she'd feel that way when she was Manuela's age. ] Apparently, it's very rude to ask a lady her age.

[ He nods at her indication of his apartment and then grins at the rest. ]

It's fine, you don't gotta tell me if you don't wanna.

[ But her response generates a laugh, one that says all it probably needs to: Blake's easily endeared despite his stoic outward appearance. That Hilda takes interest at all would be entirely independent of his fascination because her willingness to endure his questions feeds a part of him that he loves to indulge. His curiosity knows few bounds these days, but his appreciation for banter isn't far behind. ]

"PD" stands for "Police Department" in this case. Where I used to work. Someone felt it was clever to call us police officers. Officers of policy, I s'pose. "Cop" is short for "copper" which's got its origins from a word that basically means "apprehend."

[ He leans in a little then, offering a pinball smile. ]

I'm twenty-nine.

[ Her eyes sparkle, choosing to hold out a little longer on her answer. Part of it is because she's teasing (somewhere back home, Manuela would be proud), and part of it is because her attention is focused on Blake explaining his map to her.

His answer would have spurred more questions, but she's pleasantly surprised when he starts to answer them anyway. School had never been her favourite and that included the countless hours of English lessons to boot. Now that she had left school and was free to pursue knowledge that she found interesting, she was starting to feel like learning wasn't all that bad. ]

Look at you, you little dork. [ It's said teasingly and admiringly, of course. ] We just have mercenaries back home. There's nothing like police officers here either, at least not in name. [ She wants to pepper him with more questions but she has her own in return. There's a brief pause before she smiles, returning his. ]

I'm twenty-five. My birthday was a couple of days ago. But why are you curious about my age, Blakey?

Aw, I missed your birthday? Wish I woulda known.

[ Truly a tragedy and now he's taking out his little notebook and writing that down as one of the things he's eager to recall should he still find himself in Abraxas this time next year. ]

Why do you think I wanna know? Already suspicious, mmhm. I see how it is. Can't a dork be curious?

Yeah, couldn't you have arrived a couple of days sooner? [ A faux-pout graces her features, burrowing her chin a little further into her hands as she teasingly continues on. ] You'll just have to make it up to me somehow. And for the record, you can't go wrong with jewelry, flowers, or some sweets.

[ Him writing something down — which she has to assume is her birthday — doesn't go unnoticed however. The act prompts a faint little flush of colour in her cheeks but she recovers fairly quickly with a laugh, dissolving the pout from existence. ]

I think that's the key trait of a dork actually so at least you're living up to it. [ She hums in thought. ] Maybe you're going to secretly use it against me somehow and make me feel bad about turning another year old next year. [ She pokes him gently. ] When's your birthday?

[ He reaches over and doodles a little standard flower in front of Hilda with its bubbly petals and single leaf reaching from its stem. Not probably what she had in mind, but he figures between that and the blush he's managed at least a little payback for all that teasing over his "hoodie." ]

If you promise not to remember it when it comes along, I'll tell you.

[ But thirty is daunting and Blake's always felt strange about his birthday. He hasn't done anything to celebrate in years and he's comfortable with that. It's only one-on-one like this where Blake feels like he can unwind and be more himself; a crowd of people putting him right on display threatens to head him for the hills. ]

[ It is indeed her just desserts. The doodled flower is fittingly dorky, but still sweet and clever. There isn't any way she can't give him props for that. She laughs as she tears the drawing off and tucks it into her pocket for safe keeping, eyes sparkling.

Dates were one of the few things she'd never deny remembering, but it was birthday specific. Knowing the date of someone's birthday that she cared about ensured that she had plenty of time to make or buy a gift. And there were few things that she enjoyed more in the world than that. Well, except maybe receiving gifts. That brought her plenty of joy too.

But she plays along, extending a pinky towards him, and crossing her toes in her boots so she won't be called out for crossing her fingers behind her back. ]

I promise. But only if you tell me why you want me to forget. Which I'll forget too by the way.

[ Watching that flower being tucked away — the sentimental sort, he notes — Blake also indulges the pinky swear, reminded of its heavy use between kids. He doesn't think for a second that Hilda would lie about her intentions, but at the end of the day he's only sharing because she's proven herself to care and that's what matters most to him when offering pieces of himself. ]

It's in fall. October 6th.

[ Blake sets the pen down, leaning back in his chair, trying to decide what's necessary for context and what isn't. He starts even before he knows for sure. ]

When I was a kid — a little kid — some stuff happened and I ended up in front of— a lot of adults. Under scrutiny, so to speak. Told what to think and feel, which weren't the things I was thinkin' or feelin'. Took a lotta grief for it, so exposure, expectations, all that stuff takes a little work for me to be okay with.

[ He scratches his cheek suspecting very much he's exuding awkwardness. ]

Sorry it's not more excitin' than that. Could always make somethin' up if you're in it for the drama.

I’ll forget it tomorrow. [ She grins in thanks, gripping against his pinky before withdrawing her hand. But now that she knows it, it’s unlikely to ever go away.

She quiets, processing everything he’s saying before coming to the brief conclusion that he’s guarded for reasons she may never understand. Hilda remains perched at the front of her chair as if being closer means will improve her hearing even though she’d hear just fine if she sat back. Pink eyes never leave him, as if that will somehow help her learn more about this man that has suddenly become a fixture in her life over the course of the last several days.

It’s more than just a curiosity to learn though. There’s something else there that resonates with her, but she isn’t certain that what he’s shared is the same as what she feels. ]

I always love drama. [ Her eyes spark for a brief moment with the hint of a smile before it settles back into curiosity. ] Did people expect a lot from you?

[ At least he doesn't feel as if she's judging his worth, although the longer Hilda looks, the harder it becomes for Blake to not fidget. His smile ticks up at the mention of drama — he's a fan himself from a practical perspective — but it's dimmed quickly under Blake's umbrella of stoicism. ]

Used to feel like they did, yeah, but now that I'm grown up I can admit things are a bit more nuanced than I thought they were back then.

[ He presses his lips into a thin line, voice lowering slightly along with his eyes. ]

It's— Well, my dad was killed— and I knew it. Knew what it meant, too. My mom'd been gone, so I was alone. Half the people I was dealin' with thought I knew nothin' and the other half thought I oughta know it all. Got pretty confusin'.

Ah, this is a buzzkill, sorry. It's not— I don't really talk 'bout it much, but I don't mind.

[ His laugh is dry, but not lacking amusement. He doesn't mind under certain circumstances, he means. Having gotten to know Hilda a bit more, he's confident she'll understand that some stories start unhappily like that. That's life. ]

[ She’d never. Despite the noble upbringing she had, Hilda had never developed the propensity to measure someone’s worth in their wealth or status. Her noble trait, if that was even the correct term for it, lay in ensuring that whoever she was talking to could help wiggle her way out of doing a chore or work that she didn’t want to do. And frankly, that was most people. That doesn’t serve her here though.

A soft, sad frown flutters to her expression at the mention of his parents, and she immediately reaches out without a second thought to lightly touch his hand. With the way he spoke about it, it felt as if he had come to terms with the lot life had cast him, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to show sympathy. ]

No, don’t apologize. [ The soft quality to her voice is a slight contrast to the edge of firmness. ] I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me about that, Blake. Expectations — even when there aren’t any — can feel really suffocating, huh?

[ She says it like understands. Like she can somehow relate to the core of what he’s trying to convey even though she does her best not to think about it. The moment, however brief, lingers in the air for a moment before she moves on, levity returning to her voice. ]

But for what it’s worth, I don’t expect anything from you. I’d just like it if you were yourself around me.

[ Is this awkward? Blake plumbs the depths of himself looking for that long-standing anxiety — exactly that, a suffocating feeling — and it isn't there, although he thinks it could be. If Hilda hadn't started out strong, if she hadn't seized an opportunity to act as if they truly were old friends then he might feel differently.

Instead, he places his free hand atop hers, sandwiching it briefly, squeezing in acceptance of that gesture before letting his hand fall back away. Strangely enough, he's reminded of countless heartfelt meetings that hit him just the same when he was on his beat, making connections on the ground in places where other police weren't apt to go. ]

That's sweet, thanks. That means a lot to hear. Maybe easy for you to say now—

[ He tick-tocks his head, so apt to default to light deprecation in order to smooth the subject. It always makes him laugh, sometimes even genuinely. He knows he can be a troublemaker; it's not a surprise. ]

You know a lot 'bout expectations, huh? Sounds like it. But there's a little sayin' I like — it's from a song — and it's sorta apt: "Come as you are."

[ A typical nineties kid, Blake had been destined to come across grunge along the way and he hadn't hated it. More than anything at the time, it had made sense. It had told him what he was missing, which was wholesale acceptance. Warts and all, doesn't have the same ring to it, but the sentiment is the same. ]

[ They're cut from the same cloth in that respect, although Hilda's self deprecation usually comes about more subtly, always skirting around the edges of something that she doesn't even like to admit is there. She dresses up the insecurities as something else entirely in an effort to keep within the box she she's painted herself into and so far, it's worked for her.

Her lips quirk when he returns the squeeze before morphing back into the teasing expression from before. ]

Don't make my life difficult for me, Blakey! Otherwise I don't know how our fake marriage is ever going to survive.

[ The words aren't familiar to her (obviously), nor would she ever have any inkling as to what the nineties mean apart from being a number, but she understands the sentiment all the same. ]

I like that. [ A soft hums thrum in the back of her throat as she interlocks her fingers, stretching her arms up to the sky. ] Just a little. I've seen how expectations effected my brother. Not me though. I just get to coast.

[ A lie. How good of a lie is anyone's guess though. ]

[ Easy to see on his face that he doesn't believe that last bit for a second, but as with all things, Blake reserves the right to point it out later. For now, though, since it's clear things are better left on the light end of things where possible, he leans forward and grins. ]

Yeah? Well, how 'bout we coast back out onto the dance floor for one last go?

[ He wouldn't normally, but— ]

'Cause I heard like half of all fake marriages end in fake divorce and we're too good together for that. Gotta keep the old spark alive, amiright?

[ Despite pretending not to see the look, Hilda can't help but wonder if he'll call her out on it. It wouldn't be all that surprising if he did; she hadn't been shy about her questions to him after all.

But when he doesn't pursue it, a smile blooms onto her face. Whether it's out of gratefulness aimed at him turning a blind eye to her lie, at his suggestion to return to the dance floor, or his continued acceptance of this fake relationship they had conjured up is hard to say (but it's likely a little bit of everything). ]

I thought you'd never ask!

[ Seconds later she pulls him by the hand towards the dance floor, bell-like laughter pealing from her lips just as the next song begins. There would always be time later for talk of heavier things. But as far as she was concerned, it had no place here and now in the warm glow of the Sarstina and with the feeling of his hand in hers. ]

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[ OPEN ] an informal event.

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we can probably wrap here? 💕