[ OPEN ] i know some places and i've seen some faces

[falcony]

WHO: sam wilson and anyone/everyone.
WHAT: captain america cookout.
WHERE: sam's horizon domain
WHEN: third saturday of september (aka, about 3 weeks after the jailbreak)
NOTES: see below!

HELLO ALL AND WELCOME TO SAM'S CAPTAIN AMERICA COOKOUT!!!!

Over the last week or so, Sam has been going out of his way to contact as many people as he knows to invite them to a cookout at his place in the Horizon. He knows that after the jailbreak, a lot of people were separated, and this was his first thought on how to bring people together. The purpose behind it is simply because Sam thinks that the one thing all of them have in common, opinion on the Singularity and their situations aside, is that they were all brought here and can actually access the Horizon. He sees merit and use in coming together when they can, especially in ways that don't involve the politics of the land they're now living in. So, what better way to do that than around food?

The long and short of it is - this is a peace meal. Leave your issues at the door. Sam has very few rules and there is very little he will give in terms of what this cookout will entail, but three things he will make very clear:

1.) There will be no fighting at his home. You want to duke it out? Take it somewhere else. There will not be warnings or second chances. Don't be an ass.
2.) There is no meeting or serious reason for this cookout. Literally, he just wants people to come together who may no longer be able to see each other due to the travel constraints. It's meant to be fun. Come have fun. (he knows y'all know what that is, even when some of you pretend you don't). Bring food if you want to! There is also a kitchen (if you know what that is) and places to crash. Hope you like seafood!
3.) Anyone who can come into the Horizon is welcome. He'd love it if everyone came, so spread the word.

The cookout itself is set up out front, with picnic tables and chairs and fire pits and lights abound. There are tables set up near grilles if anyone wants to do any actual cooking outside, and a table (probably multiple) set up with sides and napkins and utensils. There are a variety of different places to go and sit and hang out while you're eating. Anything and everything you can want is available - food, drinks, yard games, music playing from out in the trees that will remain consistent unless someone tries to find the speakers and hijack the playlists, etc. If you can't find something outside, you're more than welcome to check the house.

All throughout the party, too, there will be a new friend. Red, as Sam fondly calls him, is a blood-red hunting hawk with silver in between the feathers. He can be found circling around Sam quite often, or perched on his shoulders, but also if you are out and about you can often see him checking up on anyone and everyone. He's a very curious little bird, and also pretty sassy, if you want to interact with him.



If you haven't, or have, been to Sam's domain before, feel free to take a look around. Anywhere is open (save for one locked bedroom) so everyone has open access, but most of the cookout itself will be located in the front yard.

OOC: This is mean to be an OPEN LOG, so leave your TLs or closed threads below! This party will last basically as long as people want it to, but the idea is for it to be an afternoon into the evening. Y'all have free reign save for destroying Sam's home, but if you have any questions, hit me up on plurk (disarmingly or disco (dai#3757). Sam's TL is below, and he will be bouncing around like the good host he is, but lets get a little party started.

Comments

sam wilson { open

[falcony]

ARRIVAL

Hey!

[ he sees you come to the edge of the drive and appear into the large open area of the front yard. this is probably, in a reality that sam has been pulled from, been where cars would park. maybe there might have been storage, or even a boat pulled up in the open yard. but for now, it's transformed - lights, grilles, tables, chairs, fire pits, coolers - it's a modern American cookout, y'all. except without the limitation of needing to buy or have any of this shit. sam just dreams it up and decorates to his heart's content, and if he's gone a little out there, well. he's allowed, isn't he?

either way, he is going to drop what he's doing and run up to meet you and either take whatever you're holding off your hands and lead you inside, come in for a hug, or just make those introductions (if he hasn't met you before). there will be a greeting, and it will be warm, and once that initial greeting is out of the way he will turn to lead you inside. ]

Thanks for coming, by the way. How are things?

THE PARTY

[ once things get going, sam will not be able to sit still. between the grilles and the food and restocking, to conversations had with people he hasn't seen in weeks, to conversations with new people he hasn't met yet, and anything in between - he will bring the energy, he will bring the jokes, and he will - without a doubt - make his way around to just about everyone he can. whether its to hand off some food, to bring a beer, to simply check in... sam is not a passive host. it's going to get to a point where it's going to be exhausting just to look at him.

for now, though, he is doing alright. he's got a beer in his hand (though it's probably empty, he keeps meaning to go stop by the cooler) and a smile on his face and will absolutely talk to whoever wants to come up and say something. or he can take over grilling. or he can check up to make sure you have everything you need while you are grilling. or he can totally beat your butt at one of the various yard games. either way, he is here, he is having a good time, and he's going to be doing his best to make sure everyone else is too. ]

THE HOUSE

[ it could be before the party actually starts, or sometime during the heart of it. whatever the reason, sam has decided to run inside because he either couldn't find someone to send or just found it simpler to go retrieve the item himself. he pushes through the screen doors and lets it slam closed behind him, talking to himself as if he's trying to remember a list of items he's come in to get. you may have followed him inside, or maybe you're already inside when he notices you're standing there, but either, way sam will grin and wave.

if it's later in the day, he probably said hi to you when you walked in, but he's been buzzing around pretty nonstop and has been hard to pin down. and whether or not the two of you have met, he's smile will be just as warm, his wave just as inviting. ]

Hey- you got a sec? I'm trying to find... [ he turns, and then pauses. because suddenly, he's just. totally gone blank. you can probably see the stages of grief cross his features before he finally gives up, letting out a sigh and turning back to face you. ] Nevermind. It's gone.

[ it happens. just gotta keep moving. ] What's up with you? Can I help with anything?

WILDCARD

[ if there isn't anything here to your fancy, just hit me up with pretty much anything! ITS A PARTY AND SAM IS HERE TO HAVE A GOOD TIME. ]

THE PARTY

[coerthantorment]

[Estinien has always hated parties, as a rule. Back when he was the Azure Dragoon, a soldier of such renown that he was expected to attend certain noble soirees, he rejected so many invitations that the city at large stopped even bothering to ask for his presence. He's here for entirely tactical reactions, despite the fact that he finds himself resenting the entire exercise.

Back in Ishgard, what those grand balls and social demonstrations seemed to represent was a class entirely willing to look the other way when it suited them. While some may see wartime celebrations as a necessary break from the grimness of reality, Estinien has only ever seen them as an ignorant distraction for the privileged, happy to overlook whatever plights are not their own. This sticks out all the more glaringly, now that Estinien is pretty sure he's once again been called to war.

The trouble is that no one else seems to see it that way. The actions of this 'Sam', the host of this event, are particularly beyond him. Inviting everyone with the expectation that they leave their 'politics' behind, as if such a thing would ever be possible. While he does get a greeting along with the rest of his group, he remains silent as Sam leads them in, narrowing his eyes as if skeptical about the entire proceeding. He doesn't really start having fun once he's there, either.

Instead, it's in the early to mid-phase of the party itself that Sam makes his way into Estinien's gloomy radius again, and this time he doesn't have to worry about making a mess for the comrades he followed here. Whatever Sam happens to say to him as he passes by, Estinien finally lets loose the bitter words he's been holding in his throat since he got here.]

I suppose it must be easy to ignore your guest's allegiances, when your life was never the one on the chopping block.

[It most likely comes completely out of nowhere, despite his withdrawn demeanor. He's been holding back from experiencing things, largely observing, and while there is no sign of violence in his posture, the knot of spite in his gut is obvious.]

The House

[cryptsleeper]

[It is easier for Alucard to enter the Horizon at night. He has chosen not to dwell on the reason why (he knows it isn't vampire nonsense), only take advantage of what it allows. He travels outside of his domain rarely, choosing instead to curl up in his depression hut in a pile of soft furs, a singular fire, and a terribly advanced kitchen for 1400s Wallachia.

He's not there tonight. Tonight he is slipping into Sam's domain to leave something and then withdraw. There's no interest in the actual party or anything of the sort, but the dhampir is well aware that Sam's work in the tunnel deserves some kind of recognition. The part of Alucard that was still raised right, that understands the need to be polite about these things, wants to acknowledge and thank him for it.

Which is why he's in the house now, dressed in a dark grey tunic and a black coat with embellishments, the veritable goth teenager at the family gathering. His eyes glance around the kitchen, most of it familiar. Electric lighting. A stove. The dishwasher is a total novelty, but it is nice to know that humanity gets to develop what he grew up with.

Alucard is in the process of placing a small bundle wrapped in a simple linen cloth (plăcintă cu brânză, a sheep's cheese pie, good at any time of day but with jam, an excellent dessert) with a small note pinned to it on the table when Sam walks in.

His response is immediate but measured. If nothing else, Alucard is on a far more even keel than the last time they saw each other.]

No, thank you.

the house;

[extremethirst]

[ What the fuck is all this? He runs his hands along the counters; he takes in the sight of the inside of the house. Its modern appearance really baffles him. His own attire isn't meant for a cookout, unfortunately; his long jacket hangs open and leather pants fitting comfortably familiar. Is he wearing a shirt underneath it? Nah. Why should he?

But still, he calls out to the host with a concerned voice: ]

Looking a little lost there, chief.

[ Nero lacks the social graces not to immediately question why the man appears to be so distraught. He wonders if the host is finally understanding how pointless it is for all of them to have a nice get-together. It didn't matter if they were all in the same situation; it didn't matter if they all suffered the same; none of that mattered because people would come up with their own reasons to kill each other.

A person doesn't have to be crazy to want to kill, they just have to think that they're right. The elf turns his head to bark out a single laugh. As soon as a person can justify their reasons, it's fucking over!

But he digresses! ]

What's the matter? The sandcastle not coming out as well as you'd like it to?

Arrival

[sanc]

[ She hadn't been here long before, but Relena feels some comfort wash over her walking up to the house. She'd meant to come here eventually - to see if Sam was here - and it seems like she picked a good day to do it. She'd heard through a few other people that Sam was holding a get together today and that food was suggested. She'd glad this world allows her to create things by thought and not her hands. The cook sometimes showed her how to make things, but for the most part she's clueless. It's another weakness she wants to overcome.

She carries a tray of smørrebrød in her hands. A good outdoor food, she thinks, and easy to pick up and eat. The look of the place is much more comfortable than any event she'd gone to with the rich people she'd been raised among. No awkwardness comes over her as she approaches and as Sam comes towards her. ]

Sam! It's good to see you.

The Party

[antichristsplusone]

[Martin is very much not a party kind of person. These sorts of social gatherings were more okay but there's still just so many people, and that brings the nervous wreck in him to the surface. He affirms to himself that he's only going to stay for a short while - maybe grab a bite and see Jon again before he goes back to his own domain to keep working - before he approaches Sam working the grill with a warm smile.]

Hullo, Sam. Um, I-I just wanted to say-- thanks, you know? For helping Jon before, a-and me.

house + wildcard.

[gynvael]

[ Here is not where Geralt would normally be. Especially not after his last trip inside (after Yennefer). But he'd told Sam he'd come in case tensions grew too taut and in truth, he could use the distraction. If Yen makes an appearance, he'll leave. For the time being, he doesn't bring it up: not with Ciri, not with Jaskier, not with anyone. Mostly puts it aside. No one needs to know, even if it's been on his mind, the whole fucking mess of it. Even if he's certain Jaskier and Ciri both can tell something isn't right with him. That he's been distant, focused on tasks that don't need as much focus as he's giving them.

He leaves Roach tethered to a tree at a distance, where she can graze to her heart's content. Sam's home is both familiar and yet not. He remembers being here, remembers being perfectly at ease in a way he wasn't conscious of. Now that the haze of it has lifted, he's noticing all the little things about it that he'd glossed over on his first visit: the architecture of the house, the furniture that's just a bit too uniform, the materials and equipment he doesn't understand. Like those damn flimsy red cups that he absolutely did not accidentally crush at one point. Even Cirilla being here now, not as a shadow of a girl but as herself, it's...

There was something simple about it. About how he'd settled into that kitchen and helped pack away food and asked Sam about his boat. (A boat he's noticed no longer exists.) A sense of belonging that no longer hovers in the air, but hasn't entirely vanished, either, within him. He isn't certain how to feel about that. It is not a sense that tends to come easily to him, if at all.

As much as Geralt's avoided the crowd, there is one person he intends to speak to: Sam himself. Geralt's gone inside the house, resting against one of the walls in a hallway or sat upon the stairs—somewhere quiet, tucked away, where he doesn't mind being while he waits for Sam to inevitably come inside. When Sam finally does, with that familiar effortless smile he wears, Geralt is about to lift a hand to greet him. Except Sam stops, a flicker of too many things over his face.

He studies Sam for a second. Nearly asks, before he decides against it. If Sam wants to move past it without comment, Geralt can do that. He holds out an unopened beer instead. He knows the one Sam has in his hand has been empty for awhile. ] I've seen goat herders run about less than you.

Arrival

[stealsthetruth]

[Unsurprisingly, Kay's response to Sam's invitation had been one of overwhelming enthusiasm. For one thing, the girl loves a good party. For another, she's been missing Sam quite a bit ever since she and Phoenix left Thorne for Solvunn. Her social life has been somewhat lacking in the "extrovert friend" department, so she's looking forward to catching up... This time without prison bars or hallucination causing crystals (or grumpy Thornean guards keeping a wary eye teens out on probation) there to dampen the atmosphere.

Of course, since this is the Horizon, when the date of the party finally comes she's able to make her entrance with a certain amount of flair; instead of a proper vehicle, or a horse, or any sort of transportation that could be considered even remotely normal, she shows up at the driveway perched between the horns of a 30 ft. tall cow monster. The creature ambles up to the scene with heavy (yet carefully placed) footsteps, before slowly lowering itself to to the ground to allow its rider to dismount with a rather theatrical leap.]

Sam! Hi! I brought cake!

[She holds up a platter, upon which rests a big ol' chocolate swiss roll cake.]

[gardienne]

I didn't take nothing.

[Eponine spits it out as soon as she hears Sam's voice, not even letting him finish asking his question. She turns around hastily, thin arms wrapping defensively about her body and a sulk on her face. For once, it's true what she says, but given her recent experiences with - well, everyone she's encountered - she doubts he'll believe her. Still, she tries to ignore that sinking feeling in her stomach, and instead focus on what Sam had said before she interrupted him.]

You are sad, Sir? Sad you have forgotten? Sometimes it is better to go where you think of the thing and then you shall remember it again.

arrival

[aquaveiled]

[ Truthfully there is no way Himeka would miss showing up to any event about food.

Okay, it's not really about food, but once she heard the phrase "cookout" she knew it would be a central feature. Everything that follows--fostering of goodwill, understanding, etc. is good too of course. Of course! And she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little interested in why the people who stayed in Thorne chose to do so, but getting a fire going and putting her years of culinary training to work is really the best way to unwind.

Even if it's in an ambiguously malleable plane of existence that they don't really understand yet.

So despite the fact that they are strangers, for the most, Himeka is all smiles as she greets her host. Don't mind the several bags she is holding and has strapped to her back. (Could she have just willed it all into existence when she needed it? Yes. But she didn't want to forget when the time came, so she prepped.) ]

Thank you for the open invitation!

[ Her tail swishes excitedly behind her. ]

I can't believe I hadn't happened upon your land before. I feel as if I should be taking a nap beneath the trees.

arrival

[impressionism]

[ Hennessy has, like a good guest, brought a bottle of some sort of fancy, expensive, totally made-up wine for her host. She'd advise against actually drinking dreamt beverages, but that's Bryde wisdom and honestly fuck that guy. This isn't only her dream, so she hands it over with reasonable confidence that it's not going to do anything weirder than give people a buzz that probably won't carry over into the real world.

In answer to Sam's question, she shrugs noncommittally. ]

It's better than jail. I'm guessing you got the warmer welcome when you got here?

arrival

[baltimores]

[ Word gets around, even in Amos' own little isolated corner of the world. There's nothing to lose by coming, so — after a false start or two in making it back to the Horizon — he shows up. Not like he's got anything better to do with his time, keeping to himself and generally being a moderately productive total loner out in Solvunn's Tertiary Settlement.

That total loner disposition translates to his arrival, too, as Amos stands awkwardly at the edge of the drive. He looks almost mystified, taking in the size of the yard and all therein. He knows that here people can make up whatever environment they want, but he's still never seen any kind of setup like this.

Isn't entirely sure what to make of it, if he should just go or what, but then Sam's seen him, is approaching him, and okay, guess that means Amos is officially here now.

His hands are empty because none of this is real. Anything anyone eats or drinks here — not real. He can play along with things, just to fit in, but he's never going to actually get it, and isn't exactly bothered about making an effort for someone he doesn't know.

Still, Sam's open, and friendly, and Amos doesn't want to just blow him off, so, ] Hey. [ A pause, just for a second, before he follows him. ] Okay, I guess. Better than before.

[ Better than prison. He figures Sam was never in jail because, well, this is the first time Amos is ever seeing him. Doesn't know if he'll get what he means; doesn't really care, either. Sam asked, Amos answered.

He is also dreadfully awkward, and out of place, and it probably shows. ] This, uh. This all your idea?

the house.

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri almost doesn't hear him. If she were paying better attention, she might have noticed the lost look on Sam's face, the weight of the sadness in his eyes, but it doesn't really register at the moment.

No, at the moment, she's standing right in front of Sam's living room television and staring with great consternation at the big rectangle with its moving pictures and muffled chatter. No wonder Sam asks what's up with her.

Ciri starts, turning to blink at him in surprise, then grabs one corner of the TV to shake it (not too hard, at least) demonstratively. ]

What is this?

[ The electric lights aren't too difficult to grasp. The modern appliances are alien, but she hasn't really seen any of the other ones turned on, even if the coolers outside were weird and half the furniture looks unfamiliar in shape or function.

But the television? That is absolutely wild, my guy. ]

Julie Lawry | open | The Wheel of Fortune

[princessvegas]

[ Before leaving the castle, Julie had, unfortunately, not had the chance to meet many of the other people. When your options are limited to only other prisoners and weirdos who want to explore a dungeon, well, it's a pretty finite number of people you're going to encounter, and most of them will not be particularly good company. She had longed to be able to go upstairs and mingle with everyone else, but that never quite panned out. She's free now, though, and word of a potluck had spread quickly.

It's late afternoon, golden hour, before she rolls in. This is not due to any real effort at being fashionably late; it's more just the habit of someone whose last occupation could be charitably described as "professional partier". She'd woken up in the real world, then rolled over and gone to the Horizon. In her domain, her nightclub (only hers, where she was always belle of the ball), she'd manifested different clothes for herself; the slinky gold dress became a red sequined halter top, shaped like a butterfly and tied 'round her back. Jean shorts so small they could only barely be considered more than underwear. Leopard spotted ankle boots. Heart-shaped sunglasses in cherry red.

And bags. She needed bags.

When she leaves her club and appears at Sam's home, she's got Louis Vuitton duffels (she'd always wanted real Louis Vuitton, used to tear pages out of glossy fashion magazines and affix them to vision boards), three of them. One in each hand, and one slung across her chest to bump on her hip as she walks. They clink loudly with her steps, and when she clunks them all down unceremoniously on a picnic table, it becomes obvious why.

Julie has brought a veritable bar with her.

Two of the bags contain what seem to be endless glass bottles. Vodka and tequila and whiskey and rum, and even a rogue bottle of sake. She lines them all up on the table, then takes off the third bag and opens it up to reveal all the necessary ingredients for jungle juice, including both a punch bowl and an enormous bottle of grain alcohol.

(Buried in the internal pockets are bags of various recreational drugs. Hit a sister up if you need a buzz.)

With total aplomb, she quickly fills the bowl, then decides she's done her part. You can find her floating around, downing a truly startling amount of alcohol for someone who's so small.

Come nightfall, she's curled in a chair next to a firepit, her feet bare and her smile big. This is the closest she's felt to home since it got wiped off the map. ]

[falcony]

[ the truth is, sam and julie probably ran into each other a couple of times over the course of the party. he would have seen her when she walked in and set up her open bar, would have probably come by for a drink at some point. but the truth of it is that they probably haven't actually sat down and talked yet - for a variety of reasons, maybe.

all that means, though, is that it's nightfall by the time sam is able to come find her. her smile is infectious when he finally does, and as he walks up next to the chair she's curled up in, he offers her whatever baked good he'd picked up off the table on the way over. he's grinning, too, and settles into the chair next to her, getting comfortable around the fire. ]

That punch of yours was a hit, apparently.

[ it's said with both some chiding - he's already said his piece about kids getting alcohol and how everyone needs to keep themselves together. he's been a spoilsport too much, already. it's late. he can calm down. which also means that maybe his tone suggests he's had a little bit of it, himself. like he may just appreciate the fact she showed up with the exact kind of energy he had wanted to bring.

he takes a long drink from his bottle, settling back in his chair and giving the kind of exhale that makes it obvious that he thinks the party went off well enough. that he's pleased with the results. ]

You get enough to eat?

Coraline Finch | Tower | OTA

[not_caroline]

I.

[Coraline hadn't necessarily wanted to come, but Jon had made rather a point of mentioning it to her, and she knows he likes Sam. She still hasn't made up her mind on the man - largely he just seemed like a nosy busybody. But she still respects Jonathan enough to make a point to come to the party: even if she makes a point, as soon as she arrives in Horizon for it, to turn on her Glamour and appear totally human for it, even toning down her punk outfit for something a bit more casual, with no sign of the Tower on it at all.

When she does arrive, rather pointedly without any of the usual company she keeps in the real world, she really does just look like a regular cranky teen who doesn't want to be here. But her hazel eyes are sharp, watching the other prisoners, Welcomed and whatever the hell they all are now with an intense, bordering uncomfortable laser focus.]

II.

[She does duck into Sam's house - but only briefly, so she can take advantage of an upstairs window to climb out onto the roof of the porch, sitting perched with one leg hanging over the edge like a particularly pubescent gargoyle. It very quickly becomes her favourite sitting spot to watch the people beneath her, while latecomers roll in and the particularly antisocial leave.]

III.

[Coraline has spotted the alcohol.

Please try and stop the small teen (who is remarkably stealthy) from drinking the alcohol.]

.

IV.

[And when she's done with all the being social, and gives up on actively giving a shit about anyone else, she retreats to one of the trees, and climbs it with a frankly shocking turn of speed - even if it's not her domain, it's like the tree itself seems to want her to climb it, and she's very quickly nestled in its branches, nearly completely invisible if you didn't know she was already up there; and even then, trying to spot her is like spotting a face in the clouds.

Right up until she gets sick of the music. And then suddenly there's a speaker rocketing out of a tree to crash into the ground with a loud crackle of feedback.]

iii;

[extremethirst]

What's up, kid?

[ It may be simply due to his true sight -- or maybe, it is his skills as an archer -- that he is able to grab the back of her shirt before she gets too close. ]

What's the matter? Want to get drunk? Party that boring for you?

[ Nero lets go of her clothes; he cocks his head as he looks her over. The expression that he gives is one that says he'd be willing to give her one of the aforementioned bottles but just wants to hear why she wants it so bad. ]

Abigail Hobbs | The Hanged Man | ota

[souille]

i. arrival;
#[ Abigail just sort of wanders in to the party going on, having strayed further and further from the centre of her own domain as she grew in confidence accessing it. When she sees the people gathered and smells the meat on the grill, she shrinks back a little, not wanting to intrude. Still, she can't bring herself to leave, thinking this is the most normal thing she's come across ever since she was shoved in jail in Thorne - and for that reason it feels all the more surreal. She hangs back and just watches everyone enjoying themselves, waiting either for an invite to join them or to be told to move along. ]


ii. party;
[ Her plate piled up with meat, she approaches an empty space at one of the picnic benches and offers a polite but tentative smile at whoever happens to be sat nearby. In her other hand she's grasping a bottle of beer, and whether or not that's a good idea remains to be seen. ]

Sorry, but is anyone sitting here?


iii. inside;
[ She loves being outside - smelling the smoke and the trees and the night air, it's almost easy to imagine herself back in a more innocent time. But eventually she needs to stretch her legs and heads inside, peering around the kitchen door. ]

Need any help?


iv. wildcard;
[ Hit me up with anything, or poke me and I'd be happy to put up a different starter for you! ]

arrival.

[falcony]

[ sam doesn't see abigail come up the drive, which probably has more to do with getting swept away with the rest of the party than anything else. but there is a point, somewhere, that he notices another girl he hadn't seen before wandering in - looking curious, if a little jumpy, while she hangs out on the edges of the party itself.

he smiles, a bit to himself and a bit to the situation, before he moves to walk up next to her. ]

You're allowed to come in and join, you know.

Nadine | Open | The World

[nadine_he_loves]

Nadine doesn't know the host personally, but word gets around. A small cynical part of her thinks it's a little ridiculous, a magic barbecue party in dream-space, but it's smart to keep up with people. To know what's going on elsewhere, to learn more about the world at large and how they fit into it.

Besides, there are people she wants to see and she could use a break from drama and feeling like a frustrated den mother. If she doesn't enjoy herself, she can just leave.

Honestly, it's familiar. Nadine's been to dozens of waterside barbecues over her life. It hits her a little hard at first, the unexpected sense of home. She's even dressed to fit the scene in a white sleeveless blouse and skinny jeans and white sneakers, the official uniform of thirty something year old women for New Hampshire summers.

But after a few minutes she shakes the almost haunting feeling Sam's domain calls up in her. This is a party, after all. She's here to have a good time, she's going to have a good time.

She explores the grounds for a bit, spending some time by the water. It's a pretty place. Relaxing. She skips a few stones and walks the length of the dock, ignoring for a time the greater reality of where she is.

Eventually she makes her way to the front, where the food and the yard games are. She makes herself a plate, shaking her head a bit at the absurdity of eating in a place that doesn't even technically exist, and settles in to quietly watch the festivities.

[gynvael]

There've been more familiar faces at the gathering than not, though he's not approached too many outright. He does not, in fact, entirely mind being here. He's been to worse parties. It's only that for him, however much he enjoys himself or not, it all translates to him finding a quiet spot someplace in the peripheral where he can observe.

One figure catches his eye, though: the woman in white, who's still in white but not as glaringly so as she'd been their first encounter. She looks more toned down, seems to fit almost perfectly into the atmosphere of chatter and food. Except that he notices she, too, skirts being the center of attention. A part of him hesitates to approach. Their encounter had been. Complicated. But she's also the only one he remembers who carried shades of a child. Several children. His curiosity around that hasn't left him.

At the least, he can get her name.

He comes up beside her with what he's accepted is ale in an oddly uniform glass bottle. So far, no brawls have broken out, so things are going as well as can be expected under the circumstances. He watches the small cluster of people in the yard, playing. "Not one for games?"

Himeka Sui | The Fool | OTA

[aquaveiled]

[ Where there is food, Himeka will follow. It is strangely fitting that she began her own great adventure some years prior in search of the most delectable of sandwiches that now she would one again travel into this separate reality for a bite to eat. She has her own questions of why people chose to go where they went or if they decided to stay, but much to Sam's own thoughts on the matter, she believes food is always a worthwhile reason to come together.

That's why she situations herself rather feely in the kitchen as soon as it's made clear that it is available.

It maybe silly, of course, that in a world where one can create anything from nothing as long as they can imagine it, but to Himeka that doesn't mean that everything should be a shortcut. She could have given herself wings to travel, a mount to carry her forth, but she is ever someone who enjoys the journey as much if not more than the destination.

That absolutely translates to cooking as well. This is why she dons an apron and sets herself up to prepare a meal or ten with what she has brought. She may be the Warrior of Light and a myriad of other titles collected over the years, but she is a Culinarian first and foremost.

She is always looking for a sous chef, whether willing or not. So if someone happens to wander in unattended, she looks up from her work on the counter and smiles. ]

Well you look like you have nothing better to do. Here, I have about two dozen eggs that need to be cracked!

[ And waves one in the air.

Then again, if someone has brought their own food to be prepared she is more than willing to help out as well. Eager, even! ]

Oooh, what is that you've got there?

[ Of course, if you're just hungry and want a snack, she has plenty to share. ]

Let me know what you think!

[antichristsplusone]

[Martin is absolutely unattended. He'd been ducking inside to escape after spotting Nero harass Coraline (he's heard enough about her from Jon that he thinks she can hold her own there) and just happened on the kitchen - where Himeka's demand makes him start, a little.]

O-oh! I, um. I suppose not?

[But his tone is bemused, more than anything else, and he still gives her a brief smile as he spots a bowl to pull closer before he mans the eggs quite readily.]

You've not got a very helpful companion for this, I'm afraid, most of what I do is ready-made meals.

Relena Peacecraft | Gundam Wing | Death

[sanc]

[ This is the first truly nice thing Relena's been to in a long time. Before even arriving here, life had been stressful and busy. She'd constantly been on the move and had been mostly on her own on a social level. There's a difference between being at a friendly social event and being trapped in conversations about infrastructure reform in one of the older space colonies.

She doesn't know what to do with herself at something like this, but she likes it even though she's quiet if left to her own devices here.

The last time she was here, she was helping to tend the yard, so she can be spotted checking over the flowers near the front porch, seeing how they're doing. She wants to come back more often, when things are rough, and help make the yard even nicer.

Otherwise, she'll be about, picking at anything sweet that was brought after being largely deprived of anything indulgent since she arrived and sitting by the fire when it starts to get darker. It's not often she lets herself relax, but she's forcing herself to this time, so she'll be happy to talk to others for once, whether it be friendly banter or sharing what she'd learned from her experience with the Queen, Grigory and Oliver. ]

[extremethirst]

Hey, there, princess.

[ Nero alerts her to his arrival first before he plops himself down next to her. He crosses his absurdly long legs before tipping his head up to stare at the sky above. The elf blinks -- not recognizing the constellations above, but he hasn't recognized any since he has come to this world.

A hum follows before he starts in: ]

Can I finally ask you about what happened? With the Queen and all that nonsense?

[ closed ] jaskier.

[gynvael]

[ As is undoubtedly expected of him, Geralt's kept to himself. Other than for food and beer, he hasn't ventured much towards the center of the festivities. Which no one seems to give a shit about. That suits him just fine. He's taken up to lingering at a distance by the trees, by the docks when they're quiet, by the fire when no one else is there.

Jaskier is enjoying himself. So is Ciri, he thinks. All that matters. In a way, he's grateful for the gathering to provide a distraction. He has no desire to talk about how he feels being in the Horizon after...that. He doesn't even want to think about it, except it is there, constantly, in the back of his mind. Stirring up things he'd rather leave alone. Jaskier has noticed, he's sure. Jaskier knows him too fucking well, has probably noticed as soon as Geralt exited the Horizon that night. He's putting off the conversation as much as he can. There would be no conversation if he had anything to say about it, but he knows it's only a matter of time before the bard tries to approach him.

The docks are where he's gone back to. He has a beer, the calm lake, a sinking sun. Could be worse. And of course he hears when Jaskier comes up beside him. Geralt doesn't turn to look at him. Instead, he sets a second bottle down on the dock: less an invitation so much as an indication that he's aware Jaskier has been meaning to speak to him. ]

[cointosser]

[It is certainly the first time in his life he can ever recall Geralt inviting him somewhere. Or, rather, gruffly suggesting they occupy the same space. Even more shocking is his allowance of Jaskier's rump on Roach's back because -- of course -- with memories now, the Witcher has found his horse again.

The festivity is simply a magnified version of what Jaskier discovered when he visited Sam last time in the Horizon. And while a small part of him is wistfully longing for the quiet they'd had between them -- the same kitchen where Jaskier had sat on the counter and Sam had kissed him -- he never misses a party, either, and it's here he thrives.

Unsurprisingly, Geralt is taking this wonderful opportunity to be unmistakably Geralt about it all. Jaskier sidles up beside him and bumps him with a shoulder, a full glass of wine in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Jaskier already introduced Moglad to Geralt as they rode here, and the moogle has made himself a spectacle by laying out on a table in the kitchen, chugging bottles of wine. Jaskier has left him to his own devices, though he is quite proud of him.

The bard does not even need to ask if anyone has seen Geralt. He finds him as he always does -- as far away from celebration as possible.] You have that particular wrinkle between your eyes, like you wish you were dead instead of here. [He offers Geralt the glass of wine, placing it where the bottle of beer was, which he picks up and takes a sip of. If there's anything Jaskier has been doing, it's drinking.] At least give me a pity sip. I made it from Alucard's grapes. They're very good.

Martin Blackwood | The Empress | OTA

[antichristsplusone]

[Martin's not exactly the most social person at the best of times, but he doesn't mind Sam. The man had helped him get to Jon after the failed execution, and while that entire scene certainly haunts his nightmares still that's his own problem, not anyone else's.

Besides, Jon seems to heartily approve of Sam. And Martin trusts Jon's opinion of things - not unthinkingly, but it certainly helps smooth the gears on his social willingness.

That feeling goes away when he actually arrives, and immediately remembers that he's not actually met most of the people who weren't in the dungeons with him. And all of his awkwardness comes back in full force in a visible pink flush across his cheeks, and he quickly ends up with a bottle of beer to have something to do with his fidgeting hands.

At least the food's nice. Even if it's, like. Dubiously real.]

[the_archive]

"We don't have to stay long," Jon murmurs, leaning close to Martin's ear with a bottle of his own in hand. He's kept fairly close so far - he's no more an extrovert that Martin is, even if he knows a few more of these faces. "But- I think what Sam is doing here is a good idea."

Bucky Barnes | open

[restoral]

CAKE
Life is far from perfect for Bucky right now. It hasn't been for a while even before they got scooped up and magically dropped off here. Still, he's learning how to enjoy the moment a little more and Sam's been a big part of that, so of course he's going to show up right on time with what looks like a store-bought sheet cake decorated like an American flag.

He drops it off with the food with a cheeky grin and greets any familiar faces he might see. "Didn't expect to run into you here."

BIRD BRAIN
Once he finishes quick greetings, he grabs a beer and retreats to the porch to sit. Sometimes big gatherings can be a little overwhelming, but he likes seeing all these people that Sam's brought together here. He's starting to make connections here and there, but he knows he'll never have what Sam has in that regard.

He lets himself get lost in thought, smiling absently at the growing group until Red lands right on his knee, head cocked with curiosity. Wow how does a stupid bird make Bucky feel like his soul is being looked into?

"Can I help you?"

If the bird actually answers, he's going to kill Sam.

SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
A drinking contest is a terrible idea, especially because Bucky's not sure how alcohol will even work here or how well his super-tolerance really will hold up, but he's pretty sure this is about the safest place to find out, so when the topic comes up, Bucky figures he'll join the party. Worst case scenario, he knows that that couch in the living room is comfortable.

"Should I go easy on you?" He's pouring shots and musing if his glass shouldn't be a little more full on each one to make it fair.

WILDCARD
[ Bucky will be eating a lot, drinking, and wandering, so if there's something else you'd like to incorporate, please feel free! ]

birb.

[gynvael]

A small handful of individuals, Geralt came here with a vague thought of keeping an eye out for them. People he's not seen since the chaos broke out, people he wouldn't mind quietly looking in on.

And people who simply have his curiosity. He's met Bucky, briefly, and when Sam described him as they were searching, what stood out was that it isn't a description that altogether fits the picture of the man who'd climbed his mountain. There's more. So he wants to know who Bucky really is, with all of his past intact. Common soldiers do not learn to vanish without a trace.

He spots Bucky early on, but waits until people are settled. By the time he walks over, Bucky's found a friend. Geralt tilts his head. He's seen it hovering around Sam. Something about the bird—it's familiar. It isn't until he draws closer that he recognizes the magic, the scent around it. One not unlike the birds Jaskier created in the castle at Thorne, the birds now sent through the windows of the inn room each morning. Hm. Interesting.

Geralt leans against the railing by the porch, where Bucky's made himself at home. Aside from the medallion that now bears the head of a wolf instead of the Sign of this world, Geralt looks just about the same as he had the day they spoke. "Am I interrupting a special moment?"

Eponine Thenardier - the Hanged Man - open

[gardienne]

1

Eponine's not sure if she should be at the party or not in all honesty. She doesn't know the host - she doesn't actually know many people - but she's never been to a party before, never even seen one to know what it is. And she so desperately wants to know. She stands with her back pressed to Sam's house, completely unsure of herself or what to do. If she catches someone's eye, she'll smile, tight and brief, before glancing away again. She has no idea what to do right now and so watches from between the strands of hair that cover her face, to try to figure out how to fit in.

Food

It sounds crazy really, that the smell of imaginary food has her salivating. But it's so easy to forget that none of this is real. It's so much better than reality that it's difficult for Eponine to even acknowledge that none of this is going to affect her once she wakes up. She queues up for fish - more fish! - and takes whatever anyone offers her until her plate is heaped. Once got, she heads to a more isolated spot under the trees so she can stuff her pockets with the fish. Perhaps it's pointless, but old habits die hard, especially now that she's on her own in Nott.

Eponine smiles sheepishly when she's caught.
"I were... I'm saving it, for later, you know?

Firepits

The warmth of the bonfire draws Eponine closer and she sits by the edge of it, staring into the flickering flames. This place has been a rollercoaster for her so far, and it's nice to be able to just have a moment to reflect. When she notices someone sat near her, she smiles, though the sadness in her eyes probably betrays how she's really feeling.

"You are well? Me, I am better for a warm fire and a full belly, but well?" She shrugs. "It's nice here, isn't it?"

Wildcard

[I'm up for absolutely anything short of killing her!]

food

[coerthantorment]

Estinien has been hanging around the outskirts of the event, mostly because he doesn't see anything all that appealing about it. He's not sure how long he'll bother staying, given that he came here mostly to keep an eye on his people and to watch the activity of those he's already deemed can't be trusted. Though... Eponine wasn't the one he was thinking of, when he made that decision.

He's sitting in one of the trees when she draws near, stuffing conjured food into her pockets. It seems absolutely absurd, given the circumstances, but also it seems to speak to the same deeply engrained desperation that he's already come to recognize in her activities.

He hops down from his perch, speaking to her while he's still a safe distance away.

"You survived, then?"

It's a simple question. He hasn't heard anything about her since the escape and he'd started to wonder if she was captured. No word of her in the Free Cities or in Solvunn.

Kylo Ren | The Tower

[photophobic]

Who invited the tall, dark, ominously looming volcano man? Sam, presumably, though why anyone would want Kylo Ren and his inexorably inevitable trail of destruction at their cheery picnic is a mystery even the lord of the mountain himself may not be able to unravel.

Still, he's here. Kylo lingers at the fringes of the gathering, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the way he leaves scorched earth wherever the frayed hem of his heavy-draped skirts touches the ground. Topping off the aesthetic effect of black on black on black, Kylo is frequently accompanied by a large, glossy-feathered raven that alights on his fire-veined shoulder with practiced ease, busying itself with preening Kylo's hair when not otherwise occupied making a nuisance of itself elsewhere.

Unlike many of the guests, this is Kylo's first time visiting Sam's domain, and it shows. Beyond the vague aura of directionless menace he always seems to carry no matter what he's doing, there's an intense curiosity in the dark focus of his eyes that locks in place and doesn't flinch— and any of Sam's guests remaining here long enough will find themselves caught in his unintentionally baleful stare sooner or later.

[Kylo's going to be mooching around staring at all you lovely folks because he's exceedingly rude like that. I'm cool with prose or brackets, feel free to hit me up on plurk starktech or on discord @ cryloren#2195 if you have any questions or want to plot!]

[gynvael]

Exactly one person has made Geralt appear as if he blended right into the party. He might be lingering a bit on the outskirts, but at least he's got a drink and isn't glowering at the guests while the ground scorched around him. Had the man showed up any other way, Geralt wouldn't have paid much attention. As it is, he realizes, almost instantly, who this has to be. Because Jaskier has spoken about him, has composed a damn song altogether, and it is not, for once—as Geralt assumed—an embellishment.

He's curious. Besides, this is the only person here so far, he thinks, who remained explicitly in Thorne's castle. Or—he's fairly certain. Hard to miss who was up on that platform. It isn't a thing one does when planning to flee.

Geralt skirts around a cluster of passing guests. They've locked eyes somewhere along the way, and while there's no challenge in Geralt's gaze, he makes no move to break it, either. If Kylo has been watching, he might've noticed Geralt hasn't exactly been an active participant in the festivities—but that he has, in fact, been into the liquor, that he has no reservations entering Sam's house, and that Jaskier is one of the few people he's bothered to speak with.

"If you sit by the fire," he says by way of greeting, "they'll likely not notice the smoke."

[unnecessaryflourishes]

)Arrival
[Emet is not, strictly speaking, trying to be suddenly and immediately noticeable as soon as he arrives. But for all that he knows that most people are nowhere near as tall as he, he has started to become accustomed to standing at what could best be called his true height - he stands very nearly fifteen feet tall, when he arrives, all but towering over both the party and the people present.

Still, he doesn't look unfriendly, even if he looks almost entirely different to how he does outside of the Horizon. Just... more than a little tall, and all the more out of place for it.]


)Lurking/Mingling
[It doesn't take too long before Emet decides that he's had quite enough of being so thoroughly out of place and shrinks himself down to something approximating his normal height outside the Horizon. He does not, however, do anything to change his appearance otherwise - his hair is still long and pale, his clothes remain a relatively simple robe, and the third eye that would normally be so distinctive is absolutely nowhere in sight.

He is also not particularly familiar with the idea of cookouts in general, but he catches on quickly enough, even if seems to be largely inclined to lurk on the outskirts rather than avail himself of the food on offer.

(He does, eventually, drift over to check out the games and music, but even then he seems to be more curious in what people are doing rather than inclined to actually join in.)]