[ it was closed when annabeth was first pulled into this world, and she has to admit there was disappointment - the horizon is well enough to find people in other territories, but it's different to be in person. she's also just curious about nocwich in general, a cove of werewolves and vampires that she doesn't even question existing. she hails from a place where hellhounds and empousa are real. so when it re-opens at the start of the new month, she and percy are there. maybe their friends will be too. ]
[ she wanders about oleuni square, attention bouncing between the layout of the square itself - the designs, the positions, the stage - and the bustle of the crowd. there's a lot happening, and it's all incredibly new, so her brain is trying to take in everything at once - which she's not too bad at when things are this busy. she has a fairly easy time observing, and she doesn't miss a beat - or a familiar face, though whether it's only familiar thanks to eight hundred imaginary years as a god is another story. eye contact with another summoned has her going for the first thing that pops in her head to avoid anything about heralds or patrons and anything in between. ]
Are the... plays any good? [ sure, small talk, she'll give it a whirl. better to start there, given the proximity to the stage. she knows a few good greek ones, that definitely don't exist here. ]
[ at one of the stalls she picks up a spool of yarn, mouth opening in a small 'o' of surprise at how soft it is. it feels weird to use werewolf fur for something, considering what she thinks she knows about how they're supposed to work (they're still people, aren't they? sometimes?? it also feels rude to ask here in their territory, and she forgot to preemptively look into the exact mechanics of lycanthropy of this world, her bad), but it's tempting nonetheless. apparently she can weave. maybe she can knit too? catch her thoughtfully comparing two different spools in conjecture with her disbelief that she's actually considering it. ]
NOCWICH | OPEN
[ she wanders about oleuni square, attention bouncing between the layout of the square itself - the designs, the positions, the stage - and the bustle of the crowd. there's a lot happening, and it's all incredibly new, so her brain is trying to take in everything at once - which she's not too bad at when things are this busy. she has a fairly easy time observing, and she doesn't miss a beat - or a familiar face, though whether it's only familiar thanks to eight hundred imaginary years as a god is another story. eye contact with another summoned has her going for the first thing that pops in her head to avoid anything about heralds or patrons and anything in between. ]
Are the... plays any good? [ sure, small talk, she'll give it a whirl. better to start there, given the proximity to the stage. she knows a few good greek ones, that definitely don't exist here. ]
[ at one of the stalls she picks up a spool of yarn, mouth opening in a small 'o' of surprise at how soft it is. it feels weird to use werewolf fur for something, considering what she thinks she knows about how they're supposed to work (they're still people, aren't they? sometimes?? it also feels rude to ask here in their territory, and she forgot to preemptively look into the exact mechanics of lycanthropy of this world, her bad), but it's tempting nonetheless. apparently she can weave. maybe she can knit too? catch her thoughtfully comparing two different spools in conjecture with her disbelief that she's actually considering it. ]