Julie Lawry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
princessvegas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2023-05-08 02:12 pm
princessvegas) wrote in abraxaslogs2023-05-08 02:12 pm
[open] may flowers
Who: OTA
When: May
Where: Horizon
What: How about a party that doesn't involve being watched by Abraxan authorities?
As always, Julie sends invitations around the Horizon, delivered by a parade of very small fantastical creatures. She'd had the idea weeks ago, in Nocwich, after noticing how frustrated everyone seemed to be by being put under constant "observation". There was a hitch in the plan after the various factions decided on their own parties, but it was still not the same as actually feeling free to relax.
They all need space. From the natives, from the drama, from the constant and unending monitoring they all seem to be under just by virtue of being "a Summoned". They need to tune it out for a bit.
And luckily, tuning it out is Julie's raison d'etre.
The morning of, a rainbow of flowers seems to sprout from and climb the walls of the building that houses Julie's club. The pink carpet and velvet ropes, normally the same hot pink as her hair, fade to a muted rose. The big double doors, with their handles shaped like clouds of butterflies, are propped open; the music that escapes from them isn't the thumping bass-heavy dance music that usually surrounds the place. Instead, it's gentle, quiet, but still upbeat. Music she pulled from somewhere deep in her memories, music that gave her a specific feeling. That's what she aims to recreate for others.
Through the doors, the lobby has been turned into a tunnel of wisteria, hanging down like curtains of white and pink and lilac and blue overhead. The floor is soft grass, the walkway lined in tall blooms of every imaginable shade. Between the vines above, spring sunshine peeks through, letting sunbeams naturally fall on old marble statues hidden in the flowers along the walls.
When the path opens into the main space, the first thing that greets guests is an enormous peacock sculpture, made of white flowers. It slowly turns its head to and fro, blinking and making soft cooing noises. Beside it, the bar has been made over, and is now anchored by a large cherry blossom tree in full bloom, the branches hanging over the seating. Steven, as always, is posted behind the bar, dressed in white as he passes out drinks from a gold tray. The rest of the club has been swapped into an open pavilion for tables (x, x), seating areas (x, x) and dancing. Where there is normally an empty, foreboding warehouse, now there is lush grass and a small pond.
The pavilion ceiling overhead is glass, showing a clear, picturesque blue sky. Wooden beams are wrapped in ivy and more wisteria; mismatched chandeliers hang down from the rafters. The floor is cobblestone, arranged with mosaics of butterflies flitting through it as if it were the sky. The smooth section, meant for dancing, is floral parquet, in a large bush shape to attract the butterflies. Over the dance floor is a replica of an art piece she once saw in Las Vegas. The light shining through the glass casts colorful circles on the ground, shifting and moving as the clouds pass by the sun.
Long antique tables bear a wide array of finger foods and little pastries and tea sandwiches on fine china and sterling silver platters, all of them seemingly from different tea sets. Between dishes are intricate floral arrangements, many with living butterflies in jewel tones resting on them. The butterflies seem to be encased within invisible globes atop the flowers; while they do occasionally take flight, they always seem to hover within a few inches of the petals before settling back down and slowly fluttering their wings open and closed. Scattered amongst the various dishes are random bowls of fancy pre-rolled joints (Vegas Botanicals blends, of course), cannabis hard candies (also Vegas Botanicals)... and a sugar bowl or two filled with cocaine.
Past the covered area, enormous, creative topiary pieces seem to rise from the ground, including two at the edges of the pond. One is a huge woman, water flowing from her hand like a waterfall. The other is giant cat lapping at the surface of the water. A path has been provided for lazy strolls around the pond. There are more places to sit here, out in the sun, some more formal than others. Some chairs appear to have been crafted from the earth itself. Big bushes dot the lawn, all surrounded by butterflies and gentle bumblebees and hummingbirds. Blankets are laid out in the shade of a few of the bushes, practically begging to laid out upon.
A grove of extremely tall flowers near the end of the pavilion is somewhat conspicuously placed; it hides the legs of Julie's lofted apartment. Still, the boxy little structure is nowhere near as obvious as it ordinarily might be, thanks to a liberally applied rainbow of more blooms all over it. Even the enclosed staircase, hidden behind a wooden door with ironwork, is decked out for the occasion.
Some of the Horizon creation people who live in Julie's domain have been turned into servers; they're all in pastel tuxedos, circulating through the space, never too obtrusively. The remaining several dozen partiers are seated at tables and in the grass, all in their tea party finest. They provide a soothing background of chatter and laughter. And everyone should watch their feet -- there are several very small beasts running around, each the size of a teacup chihuahua. Each one is wearing a pastel bowtie, and the T-Rex wears a tiny pink tuxedo vest. All of them have the comically sassy attitude of pampered lap dogs, running around (well, flying, in the dragon's case) as if they own the place.
Gentle breezes blow through the entire space, carrying an indeterminate array of floral scents with them. The music is constantly at the perfect volume to keep conversations private, but still easy. The resident partiers are cheerful and happy to interact when approached, but they don't ever bother the Summoned on their own. All them are startlingly realistic, for Horizon creations, with distinct features and quirks. None of them, however, can offer much more than basic small talk, and if pushed to act outside of their "enthusiastic partygoer" mold, they will simply begin to revert to the same things they've already said. Julie generally thinks of them as Sims with free will, though she is capable of controlling them as she pleases. The servers stick to a more prescribed set of actions, circling with trays of crudités and refreshing drinks. For anything more complicated, Steven will swoop in to intervene. He is the sole one of them who seems to be able to actively think. He knows your name and your favorite drink, by the way. Even if you've never met.
Don't think about it too hard -- it will start to feel incredibly upsetting if unraveled. And don't ask Julie about him, either. She has no real answers as to what, exactly, Steven is, or why he's part of her domain. He's always been here. All of the people have, all connected to her. Everything in the entire place, every blade of grass and fluttering insect wing, actively being controlled by some part of her brain that she never knew existed before the Horizon. (But it's not without drain; she will probably sleep for two days after this.)
Doors open at 11AM.
When: May
Where: Horizon
What: How about a party that doesn't involve being watched by Abraxan authorities?
As always, Julie sends invitations around the Horizon, delivered by a parade of very small fantastical creatures. She'd had the idea weeks ago, in Nocwich, after noticing how frustrated everyone seemed to be by being put under constant "observation". There was a hitch in the plan after the various factions decided on their own parties, but it was still not the same as actually feeling free to relax.
They all need space. From the natives, from the drama, from the constant and unending monitoring they all seem to be under just by virtue of being "a Summoned". They need to tune it out for a bit.
And luckily, tuning it out is Julie's raison d'etre.
The morning of, a rainbow of flowers seems to sprout from and climb the walls of the building that houses Julie's club. The pink carpet and velvet ropes, normally the same hot pink as her hair, fade to a muted rose. The big double doors, with their handles shaped like clouds of butterflies, are propped open; the music that escapes from them isn't the thumping bass-heavy dance music that usually surrounds the place. Instead, it's gentle, quiet, but still upbeat. Music she pulled from somewhere deep in her memories, music that gave her a specific feeling. That's what she aims to recreate for others.
Through the doors, the lobby has been turned into a tunnel of wisteria, hanging down like curtains of white and pink and lilac and blue overhead. The floor is soft grass, the walkway lined in tall blooms of every imaginable shade. Between the vines above, spring sunshine peeks through, letting sunbeams naturally fall on old marble statues hidden in the flowers along the walls.
When the path opens into the main space, the first thing that greets guests is an enormous peacock sculpture, made of white flowers. It slowly turns its head to and fro, blinking and making soft cooing noises. Beside it, the bar has been made over, and is now anchored by a large cherry blossom tree in full bloom, the branches hanging over the seating. Steven, as always, is posted behind the bar, dressed in white as he passes out drinks from a gold tray. The rest of the club has been swapped into an open pavilion for tables (x, x), seating areas (x, x) and dancing. Where there is normally an empty, foreboding warehouse, now there is lush grass and a small pond.
The pavilion ceiling overhead is glass, showing a clear, picturesque blue sky. Wooden beams are wrapped in ivy and more wisteria; mismatched chandeliers hang down from the rafters. The floor is cobblestone, arranged with mosaics of butterflies flitting through it as if it were the sky. The smooth section, meant for dancing, is floral parquet, in a large bush shape to attract the butterflies. Over the dance floor is a replica of an art piece she once saw in Las Vegas. The light shining through the glass casts colorful circles on the ground, shifting and moving as the clouds pass by the sun.
Long antique tables bear a wide array of finger foods and little pastries and tea sandwiches on fine china and sterling silver platters, all of them seemingly from different tea sets. Between dishes are intricate floral arrangements, many with living butterflies in jewel tones resting on them. The butterflies seem to be encased within invisible globes atop the flowers; while they do occasionally take flight, they always seem to hover within a few inches of the petals before settling back down and slowly fluttering their wings open and closed. Scattered amongst the various dishes are random bowls of fancy pre-rolled joints (Vegas Botanicals blends, of course), cannabis hard candies (also Vegas Botanicals)... and a sugar bowl or two filled with cocaine.
Past the covered area, enormous, creative topiary pieces seem to rise from the ground, including two at the edges of the pond. One is a huge woman, water flowing from her hand like a waterfall. The other is giant cat lapping at the surface of the water. A path has been provided for lazy strolls around the pond. There are more places to sit here, out in the sun, some more formal than others. Some chairs appear to have been crafted from the earth itself. Big bushes dot the lawn, all surrounded by butterflies and gentle bumblebees and hummingbirds. Blankets are laid out in the shade of a few of the bushes, practically begging to laid out upon.
A grove of extremely tall flowers near the end of the pavilion is somewhat conspicuously placed; it hides the legs of Julie's lofted apartment. Still, the boxy little structure is nowhere near as obvious as it ordinarily might be, thanks to a liberally applied rainbow of more blooms all over it. Even the enclosed staircase, hidden behind a wooden door with ironwork, is decked out for the occasion.
Some of the Horizon creation people who live in Julie's domain have been turned into servers; they're all in pastel tuxedos, circulating through the space, never too obtrusively. The remaining several dozen partiers are seated at tables and in the grass, all in their tea party finest. They provide a soothing background of chatter and laughter. And everyone should watch their feet -- there are several very small beasts running around, each the size of a teacup chihuahua. Each one is wearing a pastel bowtie, and the T-Rex wears a tiny pink tuxedo vest. All of them have the comically sassy attitude of pampered lap dogs, running around (well, flying, in the dragon's case) as if they own the place.
Gentle breezes blow through the entire space, carrying an indeterminate array of floral scents with them. The music is constantly at the perfect volume to keep conversations private, but still easy. The resident partiers are cheerful and happy to interact when approached, but they don't ever bother the Summoned on their own. All them are startlingly realistic, for Horizon creations, with distinct features and quirks. None of them, however, can offer much more than basic small talk, and if pushed to act outside of their "enthusiastic partygoer" mold, they will simply begin to revert to the same things they've already said. Julie generally thinks of them as Sims with free will, though she is capable of controlling them as she pleases. The servers stick to a more prescribed set of actions, circling with trays of crudités and refreshing drinks. For anything more complicated, Steven will swoop in to intervene. He is the sole one of them who seems to be able to actively think. He knows your name and your favorite drink, by the way. Even if you've never met.
Don't think about it too hard -- it will start to feel incredibly upsetting if unraveled. And don't ask Julie about him, either. She has no real answers as to what, exactly, Steven is, or why he's part of her domain. He's always been here. All of the people have, all connected to her. Everything in the entire place, every blade of grass and fluttering insect wing, actively being controlled by some part of her brain that she never knew existed before the Horizon. (But it's not without drain; she will probably sleep for two days after this.)
Doors open at 11AM.
no subject
[She just shakes her head, the rest unspoken. She never thought it would become anything, that she'd end up actually with Jaskier, that they'd still be together now after so long...]
Life's funny sometimes. And I'm not the only one that found something really good here.
[Nadine doesn't ask Julie about her relationship with Geralt. While the other woman is at ease discussing sex and relationships in general, she thinks Julie isn't too interested in sharing personal details involving feelings and all of that. And god knows Geralt is a private person.
But still. Nadine thinks that they're good for each other. As wildly different as they are. Maybe there is something to that whole 'opposites attract' cliché.]
no subject
She still hasn't entirely figured out what to do with that fact. And when Julie doesn't understand her feelings, she prefers to ignore them entirely and pretend they aren't happening.
However, if Nadine ever wants to talk about Geralt's dick, Julie is here. Next to Jaskier. ]
No. But... [ Julie's brow knits and she looks at her glass. ] Do you ever worry? About what they still have back home?
[ Her words come slowly, and it's clear she's still working the thought out in her head. She sighs. ]
You and I, we're not like most of the others. We can't ever go back. [ Even if they weren't actually dead, it's not like there's much left of their world to go back to. ] But... they can. They already did, Geralt and Jaskier. They went to sleep here and went back there. Lived months and months.
[ And they still hadn't caught up to Ciri, which means they'll go back again. They have to, because Ciri's memories of them don't end with what they'd dreamt. ]
Do you ever worry about what might happen, when they go back again? They don't remember us there.
no subject
[Nadine settles herself in, taking a few moments to compose her thoughts. It's a point that she's well aware of, but one she doesn't like to dwell on. Or at least tries not to.
Sometimes, like all those other nasty dark little thoughts, it slips in and preys on her in the late dark hours.]
I spent a lot of my life focused on the future. Too much, I think. So I try not to get too caught up in it now. But...we know it could happen. Like you said, it did happen. But it did and it didn't change anything. Or if it did, it changed things for the better.
[If anything, it had brought her and Jaskier closer. That had been the point when things shifted well and truly between them, from something casual to something much more. The odds of the same thing replicating are, she knows, very small, but still. Jaskier had lived in his dream, or however it worked, and forgotten her but he'd come back and it was fine. That experience to draw on is comforting.
But she can only speak from her own experiences. She's never tried to imagine what Julie and Geralt talk about when they're alone, and she's not about to now. She doesn't know all the unique shapes their relationship takes, the little private facets of it. It's not for her to know. All she can give is her own perspective, born of her own experience.]
But...we both sort of agreed to mostly live in the moment, and we're conscious of the kind of promises we make to each other. Even in the idealistic throes of romantic pillow talk, it's never till the end of our days. It's as long as we both share a world. I figure....there's always a risk, you know?
[No matter what sort of relationship in whatever circumstances. You never knew what was going to happen.]
Yeah, he could go home and forget me and find someone else. A dozen other things could happen to him. Or to me. I'm just really happy for what I have right now, and have had for this long. But I'm also forty and have a pretty shit history when it comes to romance, so...
no subject
That's never happened before. Before, there was always something else to move on to, whatever the most advantageous position might be. She held so little attachment to anyone or anything back then.
There's a beat of quiet where Julie looks away, but then her entire face appears to simply -- reset itself. Like a mask snapping back into place, she smiles again, letting her eyes go blank, her voice perking up. She doesn't want to keep having this conversation; it's beginning to make her chest ache.
(Somewhere, Sam Wilson is frustrated and he doesn't know why.) ]
Yeah. Anyway, the new house is great! Thanks for handlin' it all. [ Julie's entire contribution to the process was accompanying Nadine to a few house tours. She has no money or knowledge of real estate, and she should never be trusted with that level of legal responsibility. ] Just lemme know if you want me to conjure you anythin' in particular. For decorations and whatnot.
no subject
Maybe another time, when they aren't meant to be celebrating and putting aside cares.]
Oh it's fine, I'm starting to get used to all the paperwork for everything here. And it's a really nice house.
[Sure, it needs work. But that's fine, between them and everyone they know, it's not going to be a problem to fix it up. And that makes it more theirs, she thinks. Turns it from a house into a home, something they shaped and remade into their own.]
And actually...do you think you could conjure a statue for the greenhouse if I described it pretty well? It's not something I could buy around here.
no subject
There are certain tasks she knows she could probably figure out with magic, but because she grew up without that ability, it doesn't usually occur to her, and it feels a bit like cheating. Like it's not really theirs if the handiwork isn't put into it. But no one said it had to be her handiwork.
Julie looks thoughtful. Conjuring a statue isn't much trouble, but matching it to something that she's never seen will be more of a challenge. ]
Hm, yeah, probably. Is it a Catholic thing? [ She adds, somewhat declaratively, ] Catholics are nuts for statues.
no subject
Yeah, pretty much. But considering the two people who help me grow my herbs are a monk and an angel, it just feels right to have the patron saint of gardening around. And I do still like the idea of saints.
[They were just people, if they had actually existed. Some of them she's not sure about. But plenty of them were just people who'd risen above the occasion in dire circumstances. And a good number of them had done terrible things before they found their way.
She finds it relatable in ways many aspects of her first faith no longer are.]
Don't worry, I'm not trying to get back in touch with my churchy roots or anything. Even though I work with a monk and an angel.
[She shakes her head with another laugh, fully aware of how ridiculous that sentence sounds. This is their life now, and it's very strange.]
no subject
She spent her whole life getting oppressed by the church and having to drink grape juice for Communion. What a fucking gyp. ]
I mean, you can go back to it if you want. [ Julie shrugs a little. She doesn't believe that Nadine is going to start having faith again (if she ever did in the first place), but she understands that there is something very comforting in the ritual parts of it. The prescribed nature, the idea that you are doing something right. Even after everything, sometimes Julie can't help but put out a quick prayer -- maybe not to their God, but using the same words and motions. When it's ingrained from birth, it feels like a security blanket. ] I won't say I really understand saints, but I get the whole... routine of it all.
[ She waves one hand vaguely in the air. There are so many dumb, tiny things that she has carried over from her old life, that have no real place in Abraxas but still carry that relief.
Steven arrives to deliver new drinks for them. ]
I feel like a monk is gonna have a pretty shitty time in Abraxas. [ She is literally only picturing extremely stereotypical Friar Tuck-style monks. ] I don't even know what monks do. Nuns have like, jobs. Teachers. Monks are just... guys, right? Guys who live in a church and shave their heads and don't talk? I feel like some of 'em make beer, too.
no subject
[Nadine just shrugs. It feels as though she's seen directly behind the veil, and it's nothing at all like what she'd thought as a child. None of it mattered. What you did, she's decided, doesn't actually matter to God. If it did, she's sure her life would have been much different.
But whatever, it doesn't matter. Her life now is good, and she's done that on her own, with the help of the people in her life. She knows who to put her faith in - Jaskier, Julie, Geralt... the people that have become her family.]
I'm pretty done putting any faith in supposed higher beings, I'll stick with people. And actually Brother Cadfael's doing really well here. Modern monks don't really do much, depending on the order, but he's from like...I don't even know exactly, but he's mentioned the Crusades as a relatively current thing. I know he was a sailor before he was a monk, he traveled all over ancient Europe. And he has a lot of gardening experience. He's been really great for the clinic.
[Besides, he's just a nice person. Friendly and avuncular with pleasant energy and a calm demeanor.]
He's pretty funny, too.
1/2
[ She pauses and looks thoughtful. ] Like, it feels like there are wrong things to do here, but they ain't sins. Like it's about other people, not what any god thinks of it.
[ This is harder than she's ever really thought about the idea. Ever since she's had the Singularity, she has thought only of its feelings. God's seemed pretty irrelevant. But what kind of shitty fucking God doesn't care enough about His creations to save them from extinction, but does care who they worship? If it was so important, why not keep them alive? ]
2/2
She blinks several times before moving on. ]
So he's like, still a monk? Here?
no subject
[God had never once intervened on her behalf, so it stands to reason that how 'good' she had been by Biblical standards didn't make any difference at all. Rather than the image of some old bearded man who lives in the sky, Nadine thinks maybe the God of their world was more like the Singularity than not. Something incomprehensible and so alien that there's no actual way for them to truly understand, let alone assign thought processes and detailed specific wants to.]
I think this place has the right idea. It's not like people actually need religion to have morals and a concept of right and wrong.
[Despite what plenty of missionaries and zealots would lead one to believe.
Nadine does pick up that the Crusades don't bring any sort of date to Julie's mind.]
Uh, pretty sure he's from around Robin Hood times. But yeah, he's....still a monk, I guess. I offered him my church in the Horizon but he said he didn't need a place of worship for his faith. He has his own patron saint, I guess, so I think his order is a little more saint-centric and those tend to be a lot nicer and not make a big deal out of it.
[A pause.]
I should ask him if Robin Hood was real...
no subject
[ Her words trail off. Julie knows God wanted worship. Wanted to be obeyed. Apparently condoned the extremely Christian witch to reign over it. What did Flagg do any differently other She's racking her brain. What does Nadine know about the end? Not what happened to her, but what happened to Vegas, to herself and Lloyd and Flagg. Julie isn't sure she ever thought to even ask, and ultimately, it wasn't important enough to open that terrible Pandora's box in her mind.
Fuck, she really is the last one who knows. Who went through it. Lloyd is dead. Flagg is gone.
There's a moment where she is just quiet, disconnected, before she latches on to the next thing Nadine says. ]
Robin Hood? [ The level of confusion is palpable. Her entire understanding of Robin Hood comes from one place. ] Didn't Disney make that up? It's foxes and like, a snake?
no subject
Nope. Like everything else they've ever made, Robin Hood is something they took and turned into their own story. Legends about Robin Hood have been around for a really long time. In the oldest stories, he was a nobleman who went off to fight in the Crusades and when he came home his title and lands had been taken by a corrupt regent. Kevin Costner made a movie about that one.
[She's pretty sure, anyway, that those are the oldest stories about Robin Hood. Like King Arthur, it gets pretty muddy the further you go back.]
That's when he started the whole rob the rich to feed the poor thing and went off to live in the woods with a bunch of other guys who hated the nobility. And nobody's really sure if he was a real person or just some propaganda that was made up when only the church could read and write. We actually weren't sure on if a whole lot of historic people were ever real or not. You can't trust history.
no subject
Was... was the Aristocats real? Wait, was there a real Cruella?
[ This lesson has gone off the rails, and even Julie can tell. She shakes her head a little, as if to dismiss more questions about the legitimacy of Disney's entire oeuvre. (Later, she will be deeply concerned about whether or not Baloo was based on someone real.) ]
So then I guess nothin' even fuckin' mattered. Even before Trips. We didn't even know what history was real. I mean, I know Cleopatra was real. Caesar. Henry the Eighth. What a fuckin' joke of a world.
[ Julie takes a long sip from her glass. She's aware that this is probably just a case of the straw breaking the camel's back, but Disney not originating Robin Hood is making her deeply unhappy. ]