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⏴

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The world's gone strange on Carver again, or at least stranger. It was the height of summer before he woke up in a hospital bed in bizarro land, the killing heat heralding the stink of rot and dead men and soon to be dead men. Here, he's watching snow gleam in the sun. His uniform coat isn't nearly enough to cut the chill but he wears it stubbornly regardless, aching for a gun to settle his nerves. He makes do with a scavenged knife or two, and the sap gloves always, eternally, on his hands. So far, nothing's tried to kill him.

That's new.

Lacking a better idea, he roams. Mapping out as much of the space as he can, marking the new faces, trying to identify potential threats. There are too many to properly keep track of, but no one else seems concerned. No one else seems overly bothered by much here, including the abundance of food and clean water and central heating, as if these luxuries come without cost.

He twitches, breathing in the cold air. And then he spots the man with the book.

Carver tilts his head. The man holds himself with a familiar, coiled stillness. And the book looks crisp and almost new. ]

They have books here?

[ John looks up from his book, though he's been aware that someone is passing by. Taking a proper look, he can tell the other man is on edge. And a killer. John can see it in others because he can see it in himself. Has seen it in others around him.

So he plays nice. No need to cause alarm. He keeps his voice light. ]

They do. There's a bookstore and a library. Both are free, though if you borrow something from the library I'll ask you to return it when you're done.

[ This is a library book. It only looks good because apparently it wasn't very popular. ]

[ There's a deliberate sort of cadence to the stranger's tone. As if every word is chosen with care, spoken just so. It reminds Carver of Pope, in a distant sort of way. He wonders if that's a bad thing. ]

Not much of a bookstore if they don't charge, [ he points out. ] Why's there a library?

[ Ah, so someone new if they don't realize that everything is free. At least, monetarily. Though the library is recent addition that he thinks many people don't know about. He and Harold haven't socialized it. ]

Everything here is free. As for the library, it showed up recently. Places seem to appear here, places based on locations from our own homes.

Nothing's free.

[ Nothing at all. It might not cost money, but there's always a cost. It does beg the question of why a library, though. The fact that a part of him wants to search the stacks is besides the point, an indulgence he cannot entertain.

Carver cocks his head, doglike. ]

What kind of places?

[ John doesn't raise an eyebrow at the comment or the question, though he's tempted to. He's still playing nice. This guy seems a bit... tense. ]

A market, a library, a cafe. Some restaurants. And an assortment of buildings that I think are private residences of some manner.

[ The Library is also a residence, but that's not information he's sharing. He's already not happy that Harold told Heather. ]

[ Community centers. Gathering places. Maybe homes. Not the most defensible positions. But important to the individuals who lived there, spent time there. Anchors of some kind. It feels important, though Carver can't quite tease out the why of it. Places shouldn't just appear.

But then, he remembers a blade through his heart. A bullet through his thigh. He remembers bleeding out and how suddenly he wasn't. Strange shit's afoot here.

His fingers twitch. ]

You've been inside the residences?

[ The twitch does not go unnoticed. John is putting his best relaxed look on, but is watching carefully. He thinks about how exactly he would reach for the gun under his suit jacket. He doesn't think he's actually in danger, but it's a reflex to plan that strategy out. First he'd throw his book to buy himself a few seconds... ]

One. Someone threw a dinner party.

[ Carver’s gaze refocuses. He watches the other man. Always, always watching. The moment you stop is the moment someone tries to kill you, son, Pope’s voice murmurs. Remember? I taught you that. And if you fuck up and they get you on the ground, what happens next is just your own fault.

Natural consequences. Like gravity. So focus, son. ]

Did they, now.

[ It occurs to Carver that he’s being observed in turn. Marked and evaluated. He watches the other man and doesn’t smile. There’s something familiar about this one. Not his face or accent, no, but that stillness. The cadence of his voice. There’s something to that. A known element. ]

You’re fast, aren’t you? [ This is not a question. ] You got that look to you.

[ Carver’s fast. If it comes to that. ]

[ Yeah, that's about what John expected. He's already thought this out too though, so he doesn't hesitate, just slowly moves his hands out by his shoulders, book spread open in one hand. A nonthreatening, defenseless gesture. He's opened himself up and is glad that his gun isn't visible under his jacket. ]

I'm just reading my book.

[ One of the very first things Shaw taught him was not to get distracted by the hands an enemy flashes. The human eye is attracted to movement, she explained all those years ago in Korengal, when he was nothing but a green idiot. It’s instinctive. People can’t help it. But if you focus too hard on the hands, you lose the bigger picture. So watch the whole of them, Carve, and never let your guard down. Not once.

He does smile this time. An old, arrogant mask. Act like a brash idiot and people tend to think they can strike first. It’s served him well. ]

Like I said. You got this look. Don’t tell me you were a fucking Marine.

[ Carver hasn’t been properly military in a lifetime, but he was Army once and some rivalries just don’t die. ]

[ Well the situation hasn't exactly deescalated, but it's progressing in a.. nonthreatening manner? Perhaps. He can make this work. ]

No, I was in the Army. You?

[ It's a bit of a risk to ask a question back right now, he doesn't want to aggravate the other man. But he can also turn this into a conversation, something civilized. John's own tone is casual, even maybe a bit light. Like he's not concerned with what's going on right now. They're just some guys talking. ]

[ Carver clicks his teeth. ]

Mhmm. A long time ago.

[ But there’s familiarity there. A thread of commonality. Maybe that’s a comfort here, even if they do end up killing each other by the end. ]

Where’d you serve?

[ Not pleasant memories to dig up, but. ]

Iraq, Afghanistan. It's been a while, too. How about you?

[ Speak of the devil. Lots of people ran with the Army and that mess in Afghanistan, but even so, there’s a part of Carver that eyes the other man in a new, almost nostalgic light. There’s comfort in the familiar. ]

Afghanistan.

[ There were other places, but those wars came later. Carver tilts his head. ]

Did my time down in the Valley.

[ Korengal Valley. The Valley of Death to the unwanted, idiot Americans stationed there. ]

[ John's heard of it but never made it there himself. He's lucky in that way. The stories he's heard have all been terrible. ]

And you made it back alive.

[ There's a small smile with that, a genuine one. John can't really be mad a fellow soldier. Not someone who did their time like him. He brings his hands back down from where they were still raised and closes his book on one finger. Not putting it away but showing his attention is focused on the man in front of him. ]

I'm John.

More or less.

[ He catches that small smile and mirrors it, something genuine poking through the mask and all the training Pope beat into him. You cannot let your guard down, no, not ever, but the world's flipped on its axis here and he's desperate for an anchor - for anything that makes sense. And soldiers make sense.

Maybe it's okay if he doesn't kill John right now. Maybe the commander would understand. He thinks Shaw would understand even if Pope wouldn't. ]

Carver.

[ A surname. No one calls him Brandon anymore, no one but Shaw and she's not here. ]

How long you been here, John?

About six weeks. How about you?

[ If John had to bet, he's pretty new. He doesn't remember seeing him at the race and Carver feels so wound tight, even with the smile. Like he hasn't settled in at all. John can't blame him, he came out of the hospital gun drawn and pointing at whoever crossed his path. He thinks he'd still be like that if he hadn't found Harold. Or maybe the specter of Kara's voice would have drilled all those lessons back in about how he needs to relax and be comfortable on the job. Yeah, that's more likely. ]

Two days. Super fun for me.

[ It comes out bland, a flippant mask. Inside, he seethes. He belongs back with Shaw and the others, even if that means he belongs dead. But if it's truly a world at stake, then he owes them this. One day, he'll come back and bury them all properly. Serve Shaw until the end of days. She's owed that much.

His fingers twitch. He puts that thought away into a little box for later. ]

Supplies stay constant?

[ This much electricity, food, clean water? It boggles the mind. ]

[ That sounds right. Carver might not be the kind of guy to settle in one day, but John hopes he'll relax just a bit. ]

Yes. Though I wouldn't trust any of the food or beverage that's been offered. So far the grocery store has been safe, but there were food trucks when I arrived and they compelled people to behave certain ways. One made you friendly and agreeable, another made you cold in a way that couldn't be warmed. Everything is free, so just take what you want from the store and cook for yourself. I haven't had any problems with the tap water.

[ It's a cautionary tale he tells everyone. Don't trust the food, don't trust the drink. He remembers 37 crouching down and eating fistfuls of dirt. ]

[ Isn’t it just fun when all your paranoia gets proven right? Carver exhales through his teeth. He knew about the goddamn food. Too fucking easy—of course it was a trap. ]

Where’s it all come from? Supplies just magically show up one day?

[ It’s good to know there are drugs involved, though. Or something that’s mood altering. He can’t do shit about it but at least he’s got confirmation of this one small thing. ]

[ That's John's reaction at every little revelation: satisfaction that his paranoia proved right. It only serves to fuel his unproven ones. ]

Do you know what Star Trek is?

[ He thinks Krouse would get a laugh out of him asking the question he was asked in the first place. ]

[ Carver gives John a narrow look, wondering if he’s being mocked. If he gives off the air of someone who’d take being mocked gracefully. You razz the new guys, sure. It’s the Army way. Almost traditional at this point, even after the end. But today, Carver’s really not in the fucking mood. ]

I know what it is, [ he replies, tone short. ]

[ Well not everyone does, hence the question. John's own knowledge doesn't go as far as he's about to explain, but he got the gist of it from both Krouse and Harold. ]

You know how they have a fabricator that can just make anything? We think that's how things appear here. Buildings, food, all of it.

[ Carver stares at him for a long moment. Then: ]

Oh, you're serious.

[ Okay. Wow. Apparently this place just runs on crazy. ]

Anybody tried to find out for sure?

Spill the tea

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