etrayalogs | November Mingle

November Mingle

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: November 22nd - Early December
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: The arrival of newcomers, and an unexpected guest!
NOTES\WARNINGS: N/A, please note any needed warnings in threads.

⏵ arrival ⏴
Welcome to Etraya!

Arrival goes as expected - or it would, except it is not just Aurora that greets the newcomers as they arrive. Certainly they receive their earpiece so they can communicate with one another as those before them have, however there is what seems to be a woman waiting for them that is of a more flesh and blood persuasion as they leave the hospital. She carries an air about her that isn't quite like the newcomers themselves, but she is decidedly not one of the companion bots, nor Aurora.

She has bone-straight blonde hair reaching past her shoulders, with a straight-cut fringe hanging above her eyes. The black dress that ends just before her mid-thighs also has a rather revealing neckline, though the sleeves which cover her arms almost feel like a mockery of modesty considering the rest. She is also wearing black stockings and black pumps, and the red of her lipstick is striking against the extreme contrast in shades she otherwise holds.

As each newcomer independently files out of the hospital, she makes certain to garner their individual attention, either with a wave of her hand, a wiggle of her fingers, or directly calling them over. She is persistent, and with being so new, it is wise to heed her. Not that anyone can force one to, if they choose to walk away, nor does she seem interested in trying to, but she has her means for those proving stubborn.

However, those who aren't...

“Hey! I know you’re not just walking past me. I’ve got- you know, plot relevant, written all over me. I picked this dress out just for you, you know?’

“C’mere, listen up. Mama’s got a little bit of homework for you, but it’s gonna help you, too, okay? I need you to go find the hot goss, the piping hot tea on the street for me. Find out what everyone’s saying about the people we’re stuck with, okay? People are a lot more relaxed and honest when they talk about others, right? This is about efficiency.

Efficiency, honey.

Don’t worry, I’ll be in the trenches, too. But make sure you come find me again. I’ll be around here, okay? I know you’re as confused as I am. Well no. I’m much less confused than you are. But if you can tell me about the people here, I’ll tell you more about where you are and what this is about.”

For those who ignored her, or those not newly arrived, they will receive a message through their earpiece:

“Girl. Hey. Listen. I’m kind of in a pinch, okay? I need like… a little favor. But its a fun favor! I need you to get your girl some info. I need the word on the street, honey. I need the tea piping hot- I need you to go talk to your friends, enemies, frenemies, butt buddies, cousins, and have them tell you about anyone they know. I need straight facts and good gossip on everyone here. And then get back to me. Kisses.

And this isn’t something for nothing. If you bring me some good goss, you’ll get some good info in turn about your whole situation. Cause that’s what you’re missing most besides home, right? Context.”

⏵ spill the tea ⏴

Tatianna having now tasked everyone (new and old) with finding out more about their fellow inhabitants—if not for their sake, for her curiosity—and in exchange she will give them valuable information that may aid them with acclimating here, or something far more valuable depending on how hot the goss is! However, she will not just hand out her secrets so easily, and so she will need one piece of gossip about each inhabitant. So she expects everyone to get mingling and talking, she isn't a charity here!

To assist in this, the companion bots have set up cozy little wicker daybeds around the main hub of the city. All of which are suspiciously cozy and warm once you have sat down on them, but especially so with the accompanying aroma of the tea wafting from the kettle which rests on the center table, accompanied by sweetmeats. The tea itself also stays warm despite the cool autumn air, and so long as you stay within the daybeds, the biting chill won't reach you either.

However, the tea is not only perpetually the right temperature, but it seems to have a way of loosening one's tongue. Especially the more one imbibes it. Did you mean to share that secret that might not have been yours to begin with? Or that personal detail about your best friend that wasn't meant to be known by anyone but who they themselves have told? Probably not, but the cat is out of the bag now, isn't it? Well, hopefully word won't get around...after all, it isn't likely who you are talking is going to tell everyone else, right? Right?

Adding to the oddity of it all, the tea one drinks might not be the same tea that their companion is drinking, despite it pouring from the same kettle. What might be one person's earl grey, is another's pumpkin spice chai. Whatever it may be that pours out, it certainly seems to be to one's liking, or its closest approximation. There's probably some deeper meaning in that, some sort of symbolism one might surmise from the nature of sharing gossip and it being tainted by personal bias, but who cares about navel gazing about such a thing?

After all, this is meant to be an enjoyable endeavor! Getting to know your fellow inhabitant should feel as comfortable as catching up with an old friend. What better way than to do it by sharing tea you both will enjoy? ☕

⏵ close knit ⏴

As the tail end of November draws nearer, people will have already begun to see the first flakes of snow. It grows colder, and while there isn't quite a blizzard or a snow storm happening, the snow does not seem to let up with its descent. It doesn't quite get so cold that it is untenable, of course, but it would be advisable to bundle up! In fact, the companion bots seem to be on the case with assisting in just that!

Around the city people will find groups of companion bots busily knitting sweaters, scarves, gloves, hats, and so forth. In fact, the moment they see someone they clock as not quite bundled enough, they will insist on supplying them with whatever they deem as being without. Are you already wearing a scarf? Well, clearly you need two of them! How about the gloves? Couldn't hurt to have several pairs!

However, that isn't all that's available to people, after all there are cafes out and about where one might get a hot beverage to help fight off the cold, but for those less inclined for such establishments, the companion bots are here to serve! There is at least one companion bot per knitting group that seems to have hot cocoa on hand. If they see someone who is looking particularly cold (almost everyone is, the companion bots aren't particularly keen on the signs of successful temperature regulation), they will have a paper cup of hot cocoa imposed upon them that has their name on the side.

Or, sort of. It is at least a close approximation of their name, or maybe it is an alternate spelling? Really, who can blame the bots for getting confused, there are so many of you!

⏵ snow more games ⏴

The snow is here to stay, but that doesn't mean that it has to be a bad thing! With everyone well supplied in their winter garb, the companion bots have set up spots for fun activities! Perhaps the inhabitants would enjoy a fun snowball fight, or some sledding? Some of the waters have frozen over, so ice skating is always a possibility too. Though one might want to be careful if they are to venture past what the companion bots have marked as safe.

Some of the companion bots are trying their best at making a snowman, but all their efforts seem to come out rather...square. They're trying their best, but maybe they can learn by following the inhabitant's examples. There are others that will offer gold star stickers to those who seem to dominate in the snowball fights, but unfortunately the stickers don't stick too well with all the snow. Well, they tried!

People will still find bots out and about with nice warm beverages available to fight off the cold, too. That service will continue to be available for the foreseeable future. Similarly, if someone comes out who is a little too under-dressed for the weather, the bots might have to pick up those knitting needles again, so be sure to put on your winter clothes..!

⏵ NOTES ⏴

To report information to Tatianna, do so here! She will only give each person their rewarded information once she has a bit of information on each character in the game. Each bit of gossip does not require a thread to count though it should be IC knowledge gained through IC means. Try to check what gossip has been given to her already, because doubling up will not yield results! Good luck!

For all questions relating to this log, please refer to the mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ.

⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ ......... wow. ]

Here I thought you'd keep pressing the issue.

[ He pats his shoulder. ]

You're better than I thought.

That must be tough. You seem like you do not have many friends, if you still have so many of those chips.

(at least he isn't going to die, it's not on the plans for today, no murders in his schedule, but you know. he did hide heather. interesting?)

For some reason, people don't want these.

[ He's really tried to get rid of them!!

Not fighting those "no friend" allegations. Vincent's aware of his awful personality; it'd be a little shocking if he wasn't. Honestly, he's more self-aware of how terrible a person he is, but at least, he's sane which is more than he can say about his other cult brothers and sisters!!! ]

[If Chu Wenshan was already invading his personal space and he just pulled closer, does that mean—]

I threw you off the cliff, but the rest was apparently An Ze and his men. [He remembers facts!] Don't worry though, they've all been defeated.

[Headtilt! Folded arms!]

Why would I press it?

I wasn't sure what kind of musclehead you were.

[ He holds his hands up in surrender (and partial apology) at least. ]

[He keeps on trudging.]

I don't have a problem. I'm not going to do a stupid snowball fight, that's all.

[For his efforts, Vincent gets another eyeroll.]

Do you?

[Vincent's the religious guy here, if anyone is going to feel pious after eating someone who's half-angel or whatever, it's going to be him.]

Half-human is still human enough, the guy's still a person who definitely wasn't into all that shit. [That's the important part to Accelerator, that a person lost their agency and the people who ate him had no choice in the matter.

He sits, back, folding his arms.]

Besides, he's only eaten a half-human here. That isn't getting into what he's done back in his own universe.

[ The case is less that Riz Gukgak is an early riser and more that he's similarly dogged by insomnia, frequently going days without sleep when the noise in his head gets too loud. He doesn't want to worry his friends and roommates, but there are nights where the four walls of his bedroom feel as though they're caving in on him and damn the potential dangers, he needs to go for a walk to clear his head. In the dimmest light of early morning, he can almost pass for a short human, save for the massive pointed ears sticking out from underneath his winter hat, sword and gun alike in open carry, hung on his hip and in an underarm holster respectively.

Generally speaking, the other people here aren't terribly dangerous. Not to him, anyway. They don't seem particularly keen to pick fights that they don't start, and that's fine by him. But that doesn't temper his caution in the least, and when he spots a figure in black quietly slipping away in a way that seems obviously deliberately to a Rogue such as himself - that very same move is his specialty - he finds his curiosity piqued, head tilting in an obvious tell that he's heard someone else's footsteps and feels inclined to follow. He's attracted to the chase much as a failed mouser would be; not to catch and kill the mouse, but to get closer, to observe, to play.

It's not a surprise the other guy saw him coming. He blinks at him once they're reunited, the early morning light glancing off his eyes, shining in the darkness. ]

Hi. Or... good morning. [ He is, at least, polite. ] Exploring the city?

[ Why were you hiding? ]

Thankfully, no.

[ His loose mouth says more than what he means to say, but whatever. ]

Jeez. [ Vincent shakes his head as this sounds like the same argument that he had with Heather. She wondered how he could not be bothered about eating someone who had thoughts and feelings, but well -- ] I think the implications are much more interesting than what we did.

[ He sits back, mirroring the pose. ] Do you know something?

[ Riz recognizes Vincent immediately.

He's not proud of running away, necessarily. But with the looming threat of some progenitor god, Vincent's crazed faith, the rumbling of the floor beneath his heels, the sticky coppery blood dripping from the walls -- he'd been too frightened, too out of his element to do anything else. This is not something he chooses to hold against Vincent. None of them had been at their best back then, and he had no idea as to whether or not Vincent had been infected in very much the same way Gorgug was.

They get a pass for what happened that month. They all do, as far as Riz is concerned. New month, new day, clean slate. But he can't hide the way that his eyes light up with recognition, and not necessarily in a good way. ]

You're that guy who...

[ He clears his throat. ]

Uh. Anyway. [ He does take the seat, a little tentatively so. ] Good to see you, um... survived all that. [ His brows furrow. ] You did, right?

[ Cool first question, Riz. Hi, nice to meet you! Did you die? ]

[She'll latch on with a nod, looking down to try and figure out how that...works. Practically.]

Do I turn them both the same way, or...?

[ Propping his elbow on the table, he wiggles four fingers in greeting to Riz. He does, however, feel the desire to click his tongue.

The goblin happened to see him when his mental state was at its worst. His eyes roll as he recalls how he spent hours praying to a hallucination. How embarrassing.

Did he have any other thoughts than that? Plenty. Most of them were how he ruined his first impression on people and people might think that he's a lunatic. It upsets him more than he cares to say to get the moniker of "madman."

However, Riz comes up to him readily - so, that's good. ]

I didn't die. It seems veneration really is the path to salvation. [ He turns his head to chuckle at his own joke. ] Anyway, I'm glad that you were able to make it through all right, as well. I hope you didn't encounter any more horrifying hallucinations, but given what I heard... it seems like that might be a pipe dream.

[ And he pours Riz a cup of tea. Here you go! I'm not crazy! ]

[ Despite his diminuitive size - 3'5" or thereabouts, no more than forty pounds soaking wet - Riz is a pretty sturdy guy. You have to be in his line of work. But today, wrapped up in a winter hat and a scarf concealing the lower half of his face, hopping around in his too-big jacket and carefully stomping through the snow in shoes vastly unsuited for it, a well aimed snowball is all it takes to send him ass over teakettle with a quiet yelp of surprise.

Once he's down, he stays down. Not because it hurt, but because in his great puffy jacket, he feels a bit like a turtle that's been flipped on its back. He stares at the sky as though contemplating his new life here in the snow. ]

It's all good, [ he says, voice muffled by his scarf, one arm sticking up parallel to his body to give her a thumbs-up. ] Should've stayed on my toes. You've got one hell of a throwing arm.

[ ...he's still not getting up, though. ]

[ Par of the problem, generally, is that Rosie tends to not know what even she wants. Well, that's not true. What she wants is often times on a whim, fleeting and the most fun thing. What she needs are the things she tends to be averse to. Maybe in time she'll learn how to work more towards the latter than the former, but for now- She's just glad to be here.

Glad to be told, to listen. She prefers to listen, she thinks, than speak of herself but knows that it should go both ways. ]

Yeah, she did. I didn't... do a lot myself, so- Don't feel too bad. [ She doesn't have an excuse other than just being rattled and not wanting to be reminded of everything. Some might argue that was valid, too, but she wasn't incapable of helping.

It makes sense though. She understands that drive to help in different ways. It's part of why she did the job she did back home, which is something she'll talk about another time. Maybe. Before she can consider it too deeply though, she's taking in the dog with a soft, sincere sort of smile. ]

Aw, it's adorable! [ Her hands move to touch it but then she refrains; it might be delicate, she realizes, and she doesn't want to ruin his hard work. ] You made it? That's so sweet. So is wanting to do it to, like, see where you can help.

[ And while she doesn't want to talk about it all, as mentioned, she does feel it prudent to at least address: ] You're really sweet, Gorgug. So don't think otherwise because of what happened, yeah?

Okay, I'll see if I can find any that are buried under the snow.

[Manny then starts to dig through the snow with his massive tusks.]

[Connor is suspicious of Tatianna. there are other means of obtaining information and this feels forced. her message -- stored and memorized -- hovers translated to text in his HUD before being dismissed. he wants to see it for himself, of course - so he sticks to the sidelines to eavesdrop, either by sitting nearby or appearing as though he's idling, scanning newcomers and familiar faces alike.

until his eyes fall on a girl who's sleeping. her heart rate is caught first; a slow and steady beat. then her breathing and temperature. scanning her face, he's unable to define much information. he hasn't been to the computer this month, which means new information.

she shouldn't be sleeping out here. how she's even able to sleep outside is worrying, but it's possible her fatigue (or the tea) has affected her. with a gentle touch to her arm she rouses and is met with one (1) concerned looking android, LED on his temple circling white.]

It's alright. Are you feeling unwell? [he glances down to the full cup of tea on the table.] You didn't drink any of that, did you?

Listen. High school was like — [Hank starts counting and, oh god, the dread of years, of time passing] — almost forty damn years ago, okay? Bet I read all about your espers in English class.

[No, Hank is pretty sure he didn’t, actually. It feels like the kind of unique word that he would remember.]

But all right, so you’re psychic.

[He eyes Accelerator cooly. A bit unnerved, in truth, assuming there’s something about Hank that he can read without his permission — maybe like Connor can. With his weird way of checking Hank’s blood pressure and the whole added “blah blah, should be thinking about your cholesterol before you eat that burger, blah. Wink” thing.

Usually Hank would just leave it at that: Psychic, yeah. Sure, whatever. But now he’s on a whole other world, talking with a psychic guy who’s killed a lot of people, and he’s drinking this weird ass tea, so Hank asks:]

What can ya do, then?

[Because Hank is imagining mindreading and palm reading, and people holding hands over séance tables as Ouija board planchettes start skittering around. That sort of thing.]

[Forty years? Forty years? That's more than twice as long as he's even been alive.]

Fuck, you're old. No wonder you don't know the term.

[If he heard it at some point in those forty years, chances are he just forgot. That's very valid, especially since it seems like psychic powers either aren't common or flat-out don't exist in his universe.

Accelerator doesn't really mind explaining his ability, figuring he'll need to keep the explanation something a layman could understand. No mathematical formulas or quantum theory, in other words.]

I can manipulate vectors. That's a mathematical quantity of something that has to be expressed by more than one number -- namely, magnitude and direction. Most things that exist in the universe have vectors of some kind.

That's fair. I try to be a reasonable musclehead.

[The brain is a muscle, and he's trained his to withstand crushing blows!]

Hey. [Hank stares at Accelerator, a feigned deadpan expression on his face.] That’s fuckin’ rude. The only people who get to call me old are… me. And Connor. But mostly me.

[Usually Hank would be more annoyed at someone calling him old, but okay. This guy is clearly much, much younger, and yet he’s here, talking to Hank. It’s kind of funny.]

Anyway, kid — [he cracks a smirk at this] — damn.

[Hank doesn’t thank Accelerator for explaining vectors, although he was about to ask about that, too.]

What are my, uh, vectors?

[he doesn't need to eat or drink. most of the time he spends around Etraya's stores is purely out of interest for the people there, or meeting up with someone he knows. he likes people watching, if not for more information then for learning purposes. humans naturally fell into predictable behavior, and Connor didn't mind idling around cafes or the hospital in case anyone needed help.

which might make him look out of place, honestly. usually he seats himself, but today he's closer to the counter. close to Bruce. he blinks down at the scarf being offered, then back to his face. a quick scan notes his vitals, but nothing else. strange. another scan reveals nothing, again. is he new, or is there an error in his system? filed away for another time and with a small smile- ]

That's nice of you, but I don't need one, either. [he still takes it from him....?] I can find someone to give it to.

[from where Bruce is standing, it's impossible to see the LED on his right temple, unless he'd clocked it earlier. he's not in his uniform, but still errs on the side of professional with a tie beneath his suit jacket.]

[ Riz has spent most of today as a spectator -- something that isn't so unusual for a guy like him, who prefers largely to stay well out of the way instead of leaping straight into ice skating and snowball fights and suspicious neverending cups of tea unless all of his friends manage to urge him into it. In this case, his attention is fixed on the poor guy being accosted by a fleet of helper bots, looking deeply harried by the whole ordeal.

He takes a sip of hot coffee out of his thermos brought from home in lieu of tea, watching the guy for a little too long than is entirely kind. It's not wholly out of a reluctance to get involved (though it is a little; he dislikes dealing with the helper bots), but out of an inability to know how to get the poor guy out of the situation.

Eventually, he decides on the easiest course of action and strolls up, briefcase still clutched tightly in one hand. He's all of three-foot-five, the strangeness of his appearance, of the fanged underbite and bat-like ears and clawed fingers tempered by his professional suit-and-tie ensemble, currently compromised by a thick coat and a winter hat. ]

I could do with some gloves, [ he tells the helper bot bluntly, the deficit of emotion a solid tell that he really doesn't. If that's not enough, the look he shoots Ivan might do it, as though saying you owe me for this one, buddy. The helper bots get to work shoving knit gloves on Riz's hands with enough force to ensure that his claws stick straight through them. Displeased by this, they put on another, and another, and another, and another until Riz feels less as though he has hands, and more as though he's walking around with cotton balls for hands.

At the very least, they trundle off soon afterwards, leaving Riz to bounce his hands off of each other experimentally, swathed in fabric as they are. ]

This whole thing's kinda overkill, don't you think?

[ castiel meets those eyes, but who's to say what he sees in them? he recognizes something there, but he doubtlessly picks out the familiarities. one tends to notice what they're familiar with. and in castiel's case, it's the cold burn of righteousness, the glassy reflection of apathy. he sees in barnabas what he sees in his superiors, his siblings, and even himself.

it saps something in him, his anger simmering low and slipping beneath the skin. ]

My desires? [ there's a hollow sound to castiel's voice. he snorts, suddenly more dismissive than anything. ] I want to go home, to Heaven. That's my desire.

But I never will. This conversation is pointless.

[ it changes absolutely nothing. he is what he is. an angel who's fallen. he'll be judged on that or nought at all. and while he may struggle over the question of whether rebellion was worth saving humanity when paradise was just on the other side, he knows god's non-interference is wrong. it was his plan. he should be the one to see it through. and if it's all a test, he's simply a sick and cruel god. any condemnation of humanity must fall to him first, the being who bestowed such gifts upon them — from experience.

castiel turns away from barnabas and sits back at the daybed, pulling his tea toward himself. still exactly the same temperature. the next words seem to slip from his mouth without his permission, the small soft part in the bow of his lips allowing them to escape soft as his breath. ]

Who says I don't love Him?

Edited 2024-11-28 07:29 (UTC)

[ :)

he'll let it slide, for now. ]

Yes. They were involved.

[ and then, a subtle attempt to change the subject: ]

Are you new to Etraya?

Edited (html :() 2024-11-29 16:37 (UTC)

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 51 of 130

November Mingle

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: cannibalism and speciesism

early hours!

cw: cannibalism and speciesism IT'S A FUN TIME OVER HERE

spill the tea!

no subject

WHY HELLO PAL!!!

snow games!

no subject

no subject

spill the tea

no subject

no subject

no subject

wheezed irl thank you

close knit

knit right now!

no subject

no subject