[ 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

[princessvegas]

All spaceships? Hell, probably not. The universe is huge, right? I'm sure there's all kinda stuff out there. But that specific spaceship wasn't real. Just a bunch of crazy people believin' an even crazier person's ramblin'.

[ She shrugs. Julie has never been the kind of person who's interested in space and aliens. The thought of being so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of everything makes her deeply uncomfortable. But she'd never thought that her Earth and humans were the only real life in the universe, even before she met Flagg or got brought to Abraxas. There was simply too much out there to believe that she was cosmically chosen.

She tilts her head to the side, frowning. She doesn't understand. His kind? ] What does that mean?

[gynvael]

[ Oh. When she says universe, he realizes suddenly she means space in the astronomical sense. Is that how they imagine moving from one sphere to another for her? A ship that travels through, as though it were the sea? He supposes without magic, that remains the only option.

He'd ask, but he's sidetracked by her question, one he's beginning to learn to expect. It's a little unusual, still, how easily so many gloss over his eyes without question. But then, her hair is pink somehow so perhaps humans are simply even more variable on her world. ]

They call us Witchers. We're— [ He pauses, then shrugs, too. The actual details are too longwinded for him to bother delving into. He just doesn't particularly care to skirt around what he is. ] Created by mages. [ He seems to ponder for a second. ] Whether our lifespan was intended or a side effect, I couldn't tell you.

[princessvegas]

[ It's true that his appearance has never pinged her radar simply due to the availability of modifications where she comes from. You want white hair and bright yellow eyes? That's two days in the salon and thirty bucks on a shifty website. But there's also the fact that she has been quickly acclimated to the idea of other worlds, and who is she to say what people look like in them? Her first thought was never "someone must have forced him to look like that".

She listens in silence, her face falling with alarm and trepidation. Her words come out slowly, carefully, like the very thought people doing such a thing is so unfamiliar to her that she needs to test each verbal step. ]

They... created you? Like what, they stitched you up outta spare parts? I don't understand.

[gynvael]

[ What? ] No—

[ He squints a little at her, head tipped to the side. Most have taken the created by mages aspect in stride, or at least without too many questions. Faced the concept that she's imagining pieces of various organisms being sewn together, he's thrown off track for a second or two. (Has she seen something like that before?) ]

It's alchemical. The process forces a mutagenic transformation.

[ That's as well as he can explain it. The rest is either a mystery long burned alongside the mages who perished or he simply hasn't cared to examine it in depth, the particulars of what exactly was done to him. It matters little and changes nothing. ]

[princessvegas]

[ Look Geralt, there is actually a reason for that question, but it's a cultural touchstone that you just don't have. Be thankful that she thought to ask it in a way that wouldn't require a fifteen minute crash course in movie monsters and high school required reading. (Actually, it's kind of surprising that none of the others who seem to share similar timelines with her have brought it up. Sam definitely knows what Frankenstein is.)

The idea that he was changed actually seems to rock Julie more than the idea of him having been built from random parts of corpses. She's not entirely sure what he means by mutagenic -- her understanding of that word is heavily based on comic book superheroes (he can't be a mutant like that, right?) -- but it certainly doesn't sound good. ]

So what, you asked to get turned into a Witcher? Why?

[gynvael]

[ Something about Julie's reaction makes him hesitate. Like she finds the idea upsetting. All of this—it's such a deep part of his life that he's stopped wanting to give much thought to the fact that it isn't...(normal). His preference, always, is to speak of it casually, if he ever speaks of it at all. ]

I didn't ask. [ He frowns at the bottle in his hands and drains a good chunk of it. He wants to say, And no one asked me, but it sounds borderline petulant so he doesn't. ] They take you. No shortage of children who won't be missed.

[ He leaves it at that. It's not a topic he delves into on the best days. Besides, it isn't important, the hows and whys. He's asked, thought about it over the years (thought about it a fucking lot), and if Visenna was ever right about one thing in her life, it's that no answer will grant him what he needs. ]

[princessvegas]

[ Geralt, of course, has no way of knowing that one of Julie's very few personal morals is to never hurt children, to always take care of them. Adults, she's happy to destroy down to the last atom, but animals and children are where she draws the line. She spent weeks haranguing Nadine about the fact that she killed her unborn child when she killed herself. It is, in many ways, the worst thing she can even think of, and she can think of many truly horrifying things.

The idea of this being normal enough to be an industry is deeply distressing to her. And logically, she knows that most people who undergo incredibly traumatic events don't want to relive them, because she sure as hell doesn't want to relive hers, but she is also intoxicated. Extremely intoxicated.

Silent, she sort of slides out of her chair to sit on the ground at his feet, planting her hands on one of his knees. She looks up at him intently, as if she wants to reach into the past and change it, even if it means they never would have met (because he's a hundred and would be super dead). ]

Hey. I'm sorry that happened to you. That's fuckin' bullshit. Just, like... [ Julie is, again, extremely drunk and also not eloquent even at her most sober. ] Like it's bullshit, and the only reason it's even slightly less bullshit is because I got to meet you. I never thought I would meet new people at all, so I'm real glad you were one of 'em.

[gynvael]

[ There's a moment where he regrets having said a damn thing about it. He's equally full of liquor and that means he's even less capable of understanding what to do with...sympathy. Or what registers as sympathy. Maybe it's pity. He can't say for certain, because neither are often aimed in his direction. He wants to dismiss it—it is shit, but so is everything else, like being dead or having most of the world die on you; whatever violence or loss has dogged his life, it isn't any more or less than what's found so many others—but Julie's hands are warm, her gaze remarkably earnest, and he finds he can't bring himself to shrug her off.

His eyes drop down towards her. For a few seconds, he's quiet. He shares the sentiment; it just isn't one he knows how to say when acknowledging when people begin to inch closer to him is something he's spent his entire life avoiding. Maybe it can be read on his face anyhow—more easily so than were he sober—in the mild, thoughtful expression that flickers over him. ​]

I'm rarely much for company, [ any semblance of eloquence has also completely evaded him now that he's this many bottles deep, though in its place is a sincerity where his deadpan normally is, ] but some are worthwhile.

[ Perhaps finding new people has made dying less bullshit for her, too. Who knows? He rather hopes so. Neither of them have a hell of a lot to hold onto. ]