• OPEN •

[carmesi]

WHO: anyone and everyone in solvunn, some minor npcs
WHAT: mingle for the summoned, a funeral rite
WHEN: a day or two after the new summoned arrive
WHERE: in the treehouse and its surrounding area
WARNING: tba as necessary in comments

A. THE SUMMER EQUINOX

Across the different territories, the celebration of the Summer Equinox has long been awaited ever since the Spring Equinox picnics and floral decorations came to an end. Now, to celebrate the longevity of the sun, performers from different corners of the commune go about to entertain the community; sheaves of wheat and hay adorn the fields, and the drier ones are used to make decorative masks and costumes.

The days grow longer, and the settlements are decorated in ribbons of bright colors and the few flowers that are even more colorful this time of year, to decorate crowns or clothes—making bracelets to share amongst children and couples. The trees are a deep green, the branches dancing with the warm breeze that comes up from the southern coast, and the commune settles onto a festive mood as sunsets late into the day bring beautiful colors to coast over and through the clouds.

The celebration moves now towards the Primary Settlement. Trees are decorated with strings and ribbons, young girls and women in their best white dresses, dancing around to the rhythm of the music of the local bands. Young children run around in their half-finished masks and costumes, some of them even carrying a pamphlet that they give out to the Summoned, whether they're new or not. The Maypole, still erect from Spring, is being prepared to be burnt later in the night. In the meantime, people are asked to participate and add to the bonfire: twigs and flower crowns and ribbons.

Likewise, as the community waits for night to fall to culminate their celebrations, a small market has opened. Tents are raised under the eaves of trees, different items to barter: precious gems, produce, smoked meats, clothes, yarn, tools—the list is endless, as traders from across the different settlements have come to this particular spot. Come and join in the spirits of the celebrations and on the commune’s intent to bond together.

B. THE LOCAL TASTE

When shadows start to fall onto the commune, the market takes a different nature. No longer is there trading, necessarily, but rather the owners of pubs and makers of brews are excited to take part in this year’s ‘brew crawl’. Locals and Summoned alike are welcome to participate, both in providing the brews they have concocted over time and to partake in the drinking.

From one ‘stand’ to the other, ales of all colors from golden yellows to mauve browns, there is not a single individual who will go thirsty under the colorful lights of the marketplace. Watch out for roots that stick from the ground or a change in the ground’s level, and be sure to have at least one partner to make the most of the brew crawl.

At one point, the sound of drums and wooden flutes will signal to a rise as the shadows deepen. Men and women alike are invited to dance as the bonfire flares up into a white, hot blaze; the children who have managed to remain awake join as well, wearing their masks and chasing each other around. The atmosphere is electric, the buzz of ale thrumming through people’s inhibitions, and the general joy of the day’s celebrations. Locals sing songs without instruments, harmonizing with one another as they dance circles around the burning Maypole.

The youths in their masks will then scatter into the dark, sneaking out towards swamps or forest, forming a ‘mini-Council’ and attempting to sacrifice or make offerings to the Cardinal Gods. One may find an Elder mage or two chastizing the youths, who run away when caught, or one may even find themselves the lead subject of one of these ‘rites’. One could either follow along or snitch on them.

C. A FOREST'S LAMENT

As the heavens blotch into inky black skies, the sun seems to gift Solvunn with a gift of colors and light even as it has already departed, as they approach midnight. Pale reds and greens decorate the sky; the perfect backdrop of darkened treetops.

A more solemn ceremony takes place some ways away from the Primary Settlement, by the Black Eye Lakes. Across the lake, the local band led by Tiril Blomare the authors of a solemn song that echoes across the trees, a concert not meant to have a public, lights above on the trees adorning the musicians. A special gift, as Tiril is so pregnant at this point that she can only stand as her husband, Declan, holds her upright.

With every new year comes death, and with every new year comes new life. The death of one of the Summoned does not go amiss to the Council and to the members of the commune, especially that of someone who was an active participant in much of Solvunn’s growth in the past two years. A few locals have come about to pay their respects to Nero. Solvunn may have other ceremonies, but this one in particular is one that both Himeka and Wanda decided on after conferring with one another. Grief is not easy, and grief is best not tackled alone.

Candles and ornaments have been set up by the shore of the lake, to be lit and set to float away. Anyone who wants to pay their respects can walk into the water, send off a quiet prayer; a few of the locals do as much.

Perhaps this will be enough.

Comments

tifa lockhart | the empress

[suplexer]

i. the summer equinox

[ Tifa still feels as if she's only just arrived here, but the steady march of time doesn't give that any consideration. A festival overtakes the primary settlement seemingly overnight; she wakes early in the morning to do her training regimen and finds many other residents already up and about, decorating with bright ribbons anywhere she looks.

If she spots anyone struggling with stringing up a ribbon or a papercraft banner, she offers her help. She may not know what the Summer Equinox is all about, and it's quite different from anything that happened in Nibel, but she's familiar with how an entire town will come together for a celebration. In that way, the atmosphere is nice, distracting her at least slightly from how much she isn't supposed to be here.

Eventually someone hands her the pamphlet, and while she takes a moment to look it over, her frown only furrows deeper and deeper the more she reads.

It's as confusing as it is informative, leaving her with more questions than answers. Maybe someone a bit more familiar with the pamphlet's contents could help her make sense of it.

When the market opens, she wanders from stall to stall, but she doesn't yet feel as if she has anything with which to barter so it's purely window shopping. And if she's honest, she did this a lot back home too. It's not like she ever had much gil to spare when living on the ground floor. She could only ever justify necessities. It's good to know what's on offer, but she has a lot of work to do before she can trade for anything as far as she's concerned. ]

ii. brew crawl

[ One thing Tifa has already picked up on is that the people of Solvunn certainly seem to like their alcohol. That's a good thing for her, given that she might be able to make use of her bartending background to make her way here, but she still needs to work out the logistics of that.

In the meantime, there's this "brew crawl." Which she assumes is the small rural town version of a bar crawl. Those were common around Wall Market, but she hadn't ever participated in any herself.

It doesn't seem to matter that she keeps her distance; someone shoves a foaming mug of ale into her hand anyway. ]

Are you sure? I don't have anything to trade for it—

[ The man, broad with a full beard, laughs from his belly and claps her hard on the shoulder. To Tifa's credit, she doesn't flinch.

It's the equinox, he insists. Just enjoy! And then he's off to gift a drink to someone else. ]

... I'm more used to mixing drinks than sampling them, but all right. [ She takes a careful sip from the mug, then smacks her tongue as she judges the taste. ] —Oh! Hoppy.

iii. lake of lights

[ Grief is not something to be intruded on, but no one should have to suffer in their grief alone either. When Tifa makes it out toward the lake, it's not to get in the way or to insinuate herself, but simply to pay respects, even if it's to someone she never met.

This Nero — he made the pamphlet she read. He seemed to be an important member of the community, and he was someone who was summoned here. For Tifa, the idea of dying on a world far away from her own, of there not even being a chance to return to the planet — it's a disturbing thought. And everyone here is contending with that, as well as the loss of a friend.

She watches the concert from a respectful distance, then makes her way to the lake's shore. Sending off candles like this reminds her of the River of Lights ceremony, except now she crouches down by the water alone, wondering what the rest of Avalanche is up to. She can be pretty sure none of them are here, even in other territories — most of them aren't exactly subtle. It's hard not to feel their absence in this moment, when all of them had gathered around that bonfire together.

Maybe she can't really grieve for Nero, who's really only a name to her, but what about other people she's lost? There was the ceremony at Cosmo Canyon, the stories exchanged with the other cell of Avalanche — but Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge still leave massive holes in her heart.

She's silent for a while, but eventually heaves out a sigh and reaches forward to light three candles. She arranges them in a small paper boat, then gently pushes it out over the water and watches the light drift away. ]

ii

[carmesi]

( tifa's response to the drink gets the approval of the broad man who gave it to her; sure, he moved on towards another individual to give a drink to, but he's been observant, wanting to see the reaction of the newly-arrived summoned.

probably because he had a bit of a sour experience just a few minutes earlier. )

Looks like your reaction didn't insult him, Tifa.

( wanda leans in from the side of one of the stalls, carrying a bit of a rolled-eyes expression on her face as she steps forward. she was the sour experience. )

I tried to tell him I don't like ales or beer. The taste is too strong for me.

[suplexer]

[ It's good to see Wanda again. Tifa smiles as soon as she registers her presence, and quickly glances down at herself because she's wearing the blue woven cloak that was her welcome gift. It's keeping her nice and warm when night falls and it gets cold, even if they're nearing summer. ]

To be fair, he barely gave me a chance to react.

[ Although she is taking small sips from the mug, so she clearly doesn't hate it. She is going to pace herself, though. A bartender who doesn't like to get drunk that much might be a bad joke, but it is what it is. ]

He didn't want to accept that, huh? If you're serving drinks, you have to realize that everyone has different tastes.

[ She would have never made Wanda feel bad for not wanting beer. Just saying. ]

Have you tried any hard ciders? They're a bit sweeter.

ii

[vecna]

[He has to speak up over the sound of children rushing past, laughing faces obscured by their masks. This is not entirely Henry’s scene, to say the least: he isn’t much of a drinker—that was more his father’s predilection—and celebrations are still difficult for a man who only pretends to be well-adjusted to merge himself within. But here he is, all the same, watching a large mug of ale be offered her way, and he draws a little closer.]

Fancy meeting you here. Wonder if we’ll ever have a normal interaction?

[First gutting a pumpkin, now within the noise and chaos of a beer crawl. Quaint.]

Hey, if you don’t want it— [He saw her initial hesitance, after all.] —we can toss it into one of the fires.

[suplexer]

[ Oh, it's him again. Henry doesn't really look like he knows what to do with himself in this situation, but Tifa waves to him and nods in greeting. ]

I don't know, I'd say this is all pretty normal.

[ Festivals, celebrations, merrymaking — isn't this pretty much the norm for any town, or group of people with common interests? Meeting at a party might be one of the more normal things that could happen, especially in a place where she's heard whispers of gods and shrines and offerings.

She does tilt her head at Henry's offer, though. Toss it into the fire? It seems like a waste. And while beer wouldn't ignite and stoke the flames the way a stronger liquor might, she wonders if that's a good idea. Instead, she takes another testing sip from the beer mug. ]

Is that what we're supposed to do? [ She doesn't know all the specifics of the summer equinox. ] Throw things to the flames?

[ It's subtle, especially when they're surrounded by so many people having such a good time, but her expression darkens for a moment. She understands the concept of cleansing something in flame, and the ceremony at Cosmo Canyon involved that massive bonfire. But for her, she can only ever think back to Nibelheim, and everything the flames took away. ]

III

[beautifullies]

[ Claire only met Nero in passing a few times, but their final conversation had been about helping the community, the children in particular. She'd thought vaguely to get in touch with him but never got around to it, and now this.

She's dressed casually this evening, not necessarily to be more comfortable (though it's a bonus), but because she didn't feel like dealing with a corset and laces or stockings and skirts. Her hair, now permanently silver, glows like dim moonlight down her back and to her hips with no styling, no effort done to make it look more presentable. She lights her candle and says a few soft words under her breath before shoving it gently away. When she's finished, she realizes the figure not far from her is an unfamiliar face. Waiting until it seems as if the young woman is about to go, Claire clears her throat respectfully and walks closer. ]

This is the first time I've participated in a paper boat memorialization. It's beautiful, isn't it?

[ Claire looks like she hasn't slept, and she doesn't feel the perkiest she ever has, but she's still kind, and genuinely curious about new faces. ]

[suplexer]

[ Tifa hears the footsteps sound a safe distance away and assumes that there is another mourner here. She doesn't want to bother the stranger if they need a moment alone, but then some light is cast over the relatively dark lake and she's spurred to glance over, spotting the woman with hair that glows like moonlight.

She's never seen anything quite like it, and she's mesmerized for a moment. Horns and a tail like Himeka's were one thing, but this feels ethereal.

She isn't quite expecting the woman to approach her, but as soon as she does Tifa pushes up to her feet and dusts off her hands and knees. The brightness of the woman's hair lights up her face, but also betrays her tired expression. Tifa attributes it to the grief she must be carrying if she's come here. ]

... It is. [ She turns and watches as the small lights of the candle flame grow smaller and smaller, drifting away across the water. ] I did something similar by releasing lanterns into the sky once. I guess... we can hope that it takes at least a little bit of the grief away.

[ But then she glances back to the woman, hands wringing together as she feels she must admit something. ] I didn't know him. Nero, I mean. I sent those off for... friends of mine, from home.

iii.

[macwraith]

[ Ceremonies to send off or honor the dead tend to look similar in a lot of ways, no matter where you go. Apparently, even here, in another world entirely.

There's something about flame, the ethereal nature of it, the impermanence. The way it comes alive. The way it gives way to darkness when it's gone. A fine likeness of the soul.

The same in every world.

Red stands at the lakeshore, watching the lights flickering in the distance, getting farther away. A young woman hesitates nearby, but eventually, he sees her light a candle. Then, two more. She's new, Summoned around the time he was; he knows that much, and little else beyond that. Except now, he knows she's missing three people, at least.

His heart aches in his chest. Red hesitates too, like she had, near the small stack of candles that are left.

If he wants to light one too, now is the time. The people are starting to disperse. Soon, it will be only him and this woman on this section of the shoreline. ]

[suplexer]

[ Tifa is aware that there are other people scattered up and down the shoreline, but she suspects most of them want to be left alone. For most, grief is a private thing, although it also shouldn't always have to be that way. But she's so new that she wouldn't dare want to intrude on someone else's moment.

She sets that all aside in her mind while she lights the candles and sets them off, then spends a good while simply watching the small flames become smaller and smaller pinpricks of light in the distance.

She only turns her attention away when she can no longer find the lights on the darkness of the lake, which is when she stands and dusts herself off. She'll need to make it back to her host family's home before it's too late, but...

Someone else is still out here, she realizes. He didn't interrupt her at all, but when she passes nearer to him on her way back from the lake it feels like it would be more awkward to say nothing. ]

Did you send any out...? There's still time, if you wanted to.

[ She's fairly certain he hasn't, but she's polite in how she asks. ]

Wrench | Fargo TV | The Hanged Man

[wwrench]

i. the summer equinox

Truthfully, Wrench really isn't in the mood for much ritualistic celebrating. It all feels a little too soon, as far as he's concerned. But life in the settlement moves on, and custom is as much a part of life now as it ever was. And while he could do without the masks and the matching outfits, the market is hard to overlook.

Maybe his time as a living God wasn't all bad. At the very least, Wrench seems a little more inclined to partake in things that aren't entirely necessary. He may not look like he's truly enjoying himself, but it's safe to say that he's probably a lot closer than he's ever been. And he's not shy about picking through what's available and taking his time to really consider what interests him.

He pays particular interest to the clothes and anything that might rightly be called a weapon. Solvunn still hasn't outfitted him with enough of those for his own liking. In the absence of things to do blunt damage with, he'll also peruse the tools. Summer may put a damper on the amount of demand, but Wrench has got plenty of warm things to use to barter with -- furs and tanned hides are plentiful. He'll happily swap with his fellow summoned as well, if anyone's in the market for some leather.

ii. the local taste

While it's not out of the ordinary to find Wrench having a drink at the local tavern, the man's never really let himself get drunk. He's not drunk now either he'll adamantly maintain, but he's a hell of a lot closer than he usually allows himself to be. It's going to take plenty more than alcohol alone to coax him into dancing, though the encouragement and gentle lead of a summoned or two who knows him well might do the trick. And it'll be a lot easier to urge him to join in with the drumming.

In fact, Wrench finds his way to the midst of that with ease, and soon enough he'll join in with the others, watching and helping to keep the beat. And after a few more glasses, he might just help the kids with their shenanigans. If an ear of sweet corn or a juicy apricot happens to find itself off a market stall and into their hands, the tall, silent man just might be the culprit.

iii. a forest's lament

He never really got the chance to know Nero, but Wrench has known plenty of loss. For the most part, he's never had the chance to pause and take stock of that. He's always had to keep moving, keep surviving, keep looking forward. Life hasn't afforded him the opportunity to truly reflect.

Now, he thinks it might be good to find the time. To hold space for a few other people here, while everyone's minds and hearts seem bent toward remembering. He stands throughout the concert, remaining some way off. Wrench lets others filter in to get the best seats and watches from his vantage point where he can see them all and focus not just on the singer and the man who holds her, but on the way the crowd reacts as well.

When it's all over and most of the mourners have already lit their candles and sent them off on the soft current, he approaches for a thoughtful moment of his own. It's not Nero he's got in mind right now, but no one really needs to know that anyway.

iii

[carmesi]

Wanda is fraught with emotion towards the end of the farewell ceremony. The concert comes to a dwindling stop, even as a few of the musicians remains to offer short solos of their instruments, though the singer has already left. The crowd dwindles as the night grows ever shorter, but the lake is too close to the treehouse for Wanda to stray too far away from its shores.

When she approaches Wrench, all she offers is a gentle, mental prod, a polite 'hey', before she bumps against him—into his shoulder, and leans there against him. It takes but a moment for one of her hands to wrap around his arm, a quiet signal of gratitude for his coming here.

With how peaceful it gets, it's easy to forget how dangerous this place can be.

[wwrench]

Wrench doesn't need an empathetic connection with Wanda to see how the night's events have impacted her. When she approaches his gaze finds her immediately, and this time he doesn't second guess folding her against him. He sets his hand against the back of her head, then between her shoulders, then lets her hold onto him as they watch the flickering candles dance across the quiet surface of the lake.

He can't mourn the man he never really knew, but tonight seems to him to be about even more than that. It's a shared sense of loss and a somber realization that life here in Solvunn isn't always as he thinks of it. This place has been easy to Wrench, for the most part. It's been better than any other one that he's known. But that doesn't mean harm can't get in.

I've been viewing it as totally different from earth somehow. I guess wherever we are, the principles are the same. You can't outrun fighting and loss.

iii

[vecna]

Loss, for Henry, only ever transmogrifies itself into anger. The sentimentality of these sort of send-offs, quiet and contemplative, do not quite reach at his core they way it intends to, but he understands the purpose. The way grief attempts to resolve itself through ritual—or at least that’s what plenty try to tell themselves, what they hope for—is not unheard of.

Truth be told, with such a middling investment in tonight, it’s a wonder he’s here at all. But Henry Creel is oft driven by his curiosity, and when most of those attending have already left, when the music wanes into something soft and dying, this is when he draws closer. Examining the candlelight glow flickering at a distance.

Seems like he’s not the only one. He doesn’t know this man — but intrude on this moment of quietude, he does, anyway.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” he says, coming to stand beside him, hands clasping behind his back.

[wwrench]

Grief and anger have always lived too close to one another for Wrench's liking. He tries his best to avoid them both, though sometimes it seems like he has it out for all the emotions. Happiness can make you complacent, but anger can make you sloppy. It's better not to question why things happen at all. It's better just to ride the whims of fate like a current you know you can't change. And maybe he'd remember that a little better if he hadn't just spent the last 800 years playing at being a God, or whatever the hell that was.

Wrench is staring out across the lake, watching the candlelight dance and flicker and break across the surface of the inky water. He's not exactly startled by the other man's approach, but he is surprised. The realization of how far he's been in his own little world makes his face go hard, and he turns on the stranger with a little more intent than necessary.

I'm Deaf, he signs it so quickly and so sharply he can really only intend to make a point. Thankfully, Wrench seems to realize it's all a lot coming from the 6'4" silent man, and he relents just enough to switch to brain texting.

We haven't met. Did you know Nero?

ii

[tedandroses]

The trick to being a multi-instrumentalist is really, once you've played enough instruments, especially of a kind, it gets easier to just kind of figure new ones out. So even -- or maybe especially -- a rare few-drinks-in, when the man playing lyre gets up to wander and offers the instrument to any onlooker willing, Teddy picks it up with relish, excitedly running her hands over the strings, then practically listening to the tuning. Slowly, then more surely, she starts in with a plucking method that lets her improvise around chords along with the singers.

They brighten, recognizing Wrench when he folds himself down into the drum circle, picking up the beat. The tall man's a little hard to miss, sure -- Teddy's standing, but they could probably set the lyre on his shoulder without slouching (which admittedly is as much about their own height as his, but only a little).

But he's far from ubiquitous enough to create the kind of an impression that elicits a smile. Even after the 800 years swirling in Teddy's head, it's more of an idea, a sort of concept -- though a little more of one than he'd had before (nearly a millennium will do that), left a bit curious about the cryptic Patron of the Condemned. No, though: it's the pitch Wrench had made to be Conclave Representative -- specific, not placating or generic; leaning unexpectedly hard on improving things for the Tertiary Settlement -- that had left Teddy feeling optimistic and inspired.

When there's a moment of pause, she approaches, lifting a hand in hello. "Hey! Your speech the other day, it was --"

The possible mistake catches up to her, her enthusiasm balanced out by an equal and opposite delay in deduction. It wasn't a speech, in the most technical sense of the word, was it: it'd been text. Which doesn't mean he can't hear her, necessarily, just that he doesn't — or doesn't prefer - to talk, but-- it could?. Teddy winces, feeling a bit like this self-debate is being projected for the entire public on her face. She takes a breath and resets, directing her thoughts the way she might in a private text conversation. Which is honestly a little easier with someone to look at, really.

I'm sorry. Hi. Did you catch any of that?

[wwrench]

For most of his life, Wrench's reputation has, indeed, preceded him. It's been something of a complicated relief to know there's little he can do on his own behalf to change the minds of those who have already been set toward a series of assumptions about him. Certainly, it's made it easier for him to play his role. There was something familiar in all of that during the time they all played as Gods, and maybe it's part of what granted Wrench the audacity to finally stand up and try to wield some power.

Truthfully, though, it's not the power he's interested in. It never has been, though he knows well enough that possessing it could come with all kinds of perks he's never experienced. All of those things are things he's been taught to be wary of and seek to avoid, so knowing now they might be granted to him as representative makes him wonder, secretly, if he hasn't done the wrong thing. He's not used to people catching his eye and wanting to talk to him, either, but he knows it's part of the package of what he's accepted. He should at least try to play the role.

And the slight frame in front of him now isn't wholly unfamiliar, though it feels harder to place what memories might be real and which might be a figment of whatever mutual delusion they might've all shared in. He regards Teddy with raised eyebrows and a mild expression, until they change their course of action. In that, Wrench is almost surprised. But he realizes once again his reputation very well may have spoken before he could.

I could guess, but this is probably better. Did we meet before? I'm Wrench.

Red mac Raith | The Hanged Man

[macwraith]

summer equinox.

[ Needing something to do with his hands -- with his scattered thoughts, wandering into depths he doesn't wish to tread -- Red has volunteered to help with anything that needs it: decorations, preparing the bonfire, clearing out areas for later that evening where people will be walking or dancing.

At some point, someone hands him a pamphlet, which he can be found reading eventually with a crease between his brows. ]

Did the children make this? [ It doesn't seem that way, but a random child did hand it to him.

He has no clue what to make of the drawings. ]


brew crawl.

[ Now this is more his speed. Not the dancing and the wild celebrations and the masks, but the booze... and the people-watching.

Red sits on an empty barrel with his mug in hand, already lightly intoxicated and looking to make that heavily. He hasn't much, but tonight, it seems the brewers are happy to share for naught more than one's opinion on the ale, and that's too good a deal not to take. Join him nearby to share a drink, or catch him getting refills from one bar to the next, chatting it up with the brewers with interest toward their craft.

At some point later in the night, when the dancing gets wilder and nary a sober patron is still around, a clearly drunk young woman tries to grab him by the arm and pull him into the dance. Awkwardly but politely, Red tries to refuse her. ]

Sorry, lassie, I can't. No, no, really-- Can't keep a beat in the slightest, you see, I'd step all over your feet and ruin the mood. Why don't you go ask a fleeter-footed gentleman?

[ But she keeps tugging at his sleeve. Maybe someone else can help before he accidentally spills his beer on them both? ]

summer equinox

[carmesi]

( wanda catches the question from halfway atop a ladder which leans into a tree. much like red, her attitude for the upcoming (and fast-approaching) celebrations is to help with decorating—at least for however long she can spare the emotional energy to do so. she turns her head downward, towards the relative stranger, and her eyes land on the pamphlet he seems to be trying to make sense of.

they used to tease nero a lot about how it felt like a child made the pamphlet, even if his artistic and explanation skills had improved plenty (after provided pointers). now, it's with a bit of a twist in her gut that the memory resurfaces. )

Actually, no—

( her hands are steady on the side of the ladder as she climbs down, pausing until her boots touch the solid ground. )

One of the other Summoned made it some months ago. I didn't think there were still copies being handed out.

[macwraith]

[ He looks up with a smile, standing to greet the lady when she reaches the bottom of the ladder. ]

My apologies. Hope I didn't offend.

[ It might not be very nice to say he was just thinking these are very good drawings for the small child who'd pushed the papers into his hands. Red looks around a bit, then back at the pamphlet. ]

This is very... ah, informative. I think.

Some months ago, you say? Is there anything else I should know, in that case?

Brew crawl

[inthenameofhades]

Luckily for Red, someone does indeed come to his rescue - although perhaps not quite in the way he was hoping.

"Sorry to disappoint, but he already promised me a dance," Zagreus says, cutting in with an apologetic grin that doesn't quite manage to look actually apologetic. Stepping in between Red and the woman, Zagreus takes hold of Red's arms and starts to spin him away.

Hopefully Red doesn't actually step on his rescuer's feet. Considering that they're red-hot and burning, that would be very, very unpleasant.

"Alright, you're probably...oh, she's just fallen down. Mortals really can't take much even of their own drinks, can they?" Zagreus says, as he looks back in the direction of the woman and releases Red's arms. "But I'd say you're definitely safe now, mate."

[macwraith]

Red's actually very quick on his feet, and not a very good liar, but the woman's inebriated state prevented her noticing either of these things. He'd just been gearing up to make a break for it (assuming he could free his sleeve), when a savior dances up from somewhere, and literally sweeps Red off his feet.

That's. New.

"Whoa--! Ho there, mate, I'm flattered, but--"

He's just noticed the eyes, and shortly after the feet, fumbling the already awkward steps he was taking trying to keep up. It's not that he's naturally a terrible dancer. But a lot's happening at once.

Mortals?

His head swivels in the young woman's direction, a faint crease of concern between his brows. "Wait. Is she all right?" He begins to turn back, but a couple of her friends appear, giggling, and start pulling the girl to her feet.

brew crawl! With usual caveat that you can use whatever pronouns Red would assume!

[tedandroses]

[Teddy’s been wingman enough to friends back home to spot an awkward hitting-on attempt from a mile off, and this is hardly a foot away. Having decided early in the evening to let herself cheat a bit on her general avoidance of alcohol, she gets a refill but keeps an eye on the encounter.

Teddy doesn’t know the man, but he’s trying his absolute damnedest to be polite, which only gains him points. The fact that they haven’t seen him also makes them think he’s possibly very new, which makes the interaction even worse, really, and they come up close behind.]

He’s not joking, neither. Terrible. It’s lucky dancing isn’t the only way to judge a man or he’d never have gotten off the market.

[She says this last bit pointedly. But aside from having no idea about his dancing ability, this doesn’t really even require she lie, just let others assume: whether or not he’s with anyone, he’s clearly not interested in being flirted with.

Teddy tucks their free hand into his elbow and aims a teasing grin in his direction, shooting him a please play along Look over it.

The girl, looking between the two of them, flusters a little. Teddy gives her a cool smile until she steps away; then they drop the act, and their hand.]

Sorry about all that. People need to learn to take no for an answer. [She gestures with the beer in vague indication and takes a sip.] I reckon half the time there has to be a whole person in their way before someone backs off, but not caring for something should be enough.

I’m Teddy. …Usually that part comes first.

[macwraith]

[ Red looks about as startled and flustered as the girl, but luckily, she's drunk enough it doesn't matter he's proving himself utterly terrible at the play along act. At least he has the sense to keep his mouth shut and let the ruse play out to his benefit.

Thank God it doesn't take long. As soon as it makes sense for him to, Red pulls his arm away -- not roughly, but pointedly. He clears his throat. Takes an awkward half-step back. ]

She was just havin' a bit of fun on a celebration night. No harm done.

Not to say I don't agree. Things would be easier for most folk if everyone learned and kept that lesson, wouldn't they? [ He muses, with a vague little laugh in the back of his throat. He doesn't seem all too sober himself. ]

Ah. Right. Red mac Raith.

Pleasure to meet you, Teddy.

Michael | The Emperor

[familysucks]

A. The Summer Equinox - Market

Late afternoon finds Michael beneath the market tent, overseeing one of the many trading stations for his host family of one. Josie had said she'd be back in just a moment, but he knows by now that any time the old women gather the gossip flows and so does the time. It's been an hour. It'll be several hours more, perhaps until nightfall, before he sees her again.

He doesn't really mind. She left him a list of items she's after and considers of high value, and some dry lengths of grass and corn stalks to weave into a decorative mask. He appreciates being supplied with busywork while he waits, as well as the trust she places in him to know what she'd think a worthy trade. There's also an ornery grey goose sitting on the ground by his side, one that sticks out its neck and hisses at passing children. Occasionally he shushes it but that never stops the hissing.

Visitors to the stall will receive an invitation to trade instead of the usual greeting.

"See anything you like?"

Michael doesn't look up from his work. The table is spread with items on offer, easy enough for visitors to see and decide for themselves if it's worth their bartering charms or another trinket they're carrying for trade. There are dried flowers and fresh ones, snack-sized baskets of berries, a folded goose down duvet, bundles of clean feathers and delicate bones, and a variety of needle crafts decorated with Josie's somewhat eclectic taste in embroidery: bright summer flowers and spiders, moths and green leaves, songbirds and skulls. There are also a half dozen simple silver knives at the corner of the table. These are not Josie's work, though only familiarity with the current tender of the merchandise and his host would give that away.

B. The Local Taste - Bonfire & Buzzkill

Michael's not one for celebrations, pagan ones in particular, and this occasion is no exception. There's not really anywhere else to be at this hour of the night though so here he is, watching the locals burn down the Maypole as if summer needed an invitation. He's sure his brother would have had something indecent to say about dancing around a massive pole before joining in himself.

He's turned down several offers to dance already, but anyone looking to avoid the same can expect a short nod and an invitation to sit in the open space on the log he occupies. Plenty of room for fellow wallflowers.

Later in the evening, after the fire has died down and the crowd begins to disperse, one might bump into Michael as he patrols the edge of the forest. Despite the mood of the night and the overall high spirits, the darkness between the trees is home to unfriendly creatures. If anything, the noise of the celebration might have attracted their attention. It's not a place for children to be running around in the dark.

"Have you seen three youths, about this tall?"

He holds his hand up, about chest height. Even accounting for the late hours of the celebration, they are out far past their bedtime.

a

[wwrench]

Wrench has been browsing mostly from idle curiosity. It's never a bad idea to have an idea of what sells. He's made a point of remaining as self-sufficient as possible since his arrival, and has mostly done a good job of it. Subsisting on the same old fare he can easily hunt and forage might keep his belly more than full enough, but it's boring. Especially with so many options readily available, if only he trusts the hand they come from. No one's given him any reason not to, but that doesn't mean he's entirely ready to let his guard down.

The sight of a row of blades causes him to stop, though. Wrench doesn't need any more weapons, strictly speaking. Rather, he'd prefer weapons of an entirely different sort, and those seem impossible to come by in the commune. But he can't resist the sight of something sharp, and he's not at all shy about reaching to pick up one of those knives and turning it over and over as the silver glints in the waning light.

Nice stuff. The words flash on the table in that telltale brain text way. You make them?