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

Bear, [ Harold offers, a bit bemused that Castiel says hello to his dog as well. Hearing his name from Harold, Bear wags his tail briefly, but otherwise remains fixed on Castiel in a fashion that is not overtly friendly. Bear is extremely close to his bonded people but naturally wary of anyone else, which is part of what makes him a good protection dog.

Meanwhile, Harold is still completely distracted with this idea of long-lost historical tea varieties. He automatically uses Castiel's word choice with enchantment for simplicity's sake, and in a subtle mirroring he's fallen into from maintaining so many different cover identities. ]

I suspected it was enchanted to do something, so I haven't been drinking it, but I'm almost tempted to in order to taste an extinct varietal.

[ Harold does look like he's seriously considering it, with a due amount of conflicted pain. ]

[ castiel can feel the animal's wariness toward him, and makes a note of it. even ancient peoples used dogs as companions and protection, so it doesn't come as any sort of shock to see this dynamic expressed even in the modern day. it's also something to keep in mind for future interactions, would harold ever consider visiting the bunker, since he's aware that dean isn't particularly comfortable with dogs (being dragged to perdition by the hounds of hell will do that to you).

he glances between bear and harold, leaning in as he interjects with, ]

Bear is very fond of you,

[ before moving along in the conversation. castiel likes animals, but the tea is a novelty even to him. especially since he does have a truncated sense of taste, either due to this world's effect on his powers or the fact that they're (slowly but surely) waning.

of course, now that harold's pointed out the fact that it may be enchanted to do something, castiel has to consider the very real possibility. he narrows his eyes at the cup of tea. ]

If it is, it may not affect me.

[ fair warning. he's not a good test subject: you're taking your life into your own hands. ]

Do you find they often tamper with the food?

[ Harold is baffled by this direct comment about Bear and blinks at Castiel, uncertain where it's coming from. It is true, though, and Harold instinctively reaches over to set a hand on Bear and ruffle his fur, reassuring himself that he's here now. ]

Thank you? And yes, unfortunately, they do. To the point that I don't trust anything I haven't made myself.

[ He nods down at his thermos and to-go mug with a lid, which he'd been drinking from. ]

Though so far the effects have all been temporary. So it may be worth it, if my drinking companion is willing to watch over me. [ Harold raises his eyebrows at Castiel in invitation, purposefully using some suitably angelic language as a joke. ]

You're welcome. [ and, ] I understand.

[ he's beginning to think he should employ a similar restriction. not that he needs to eat, but he can't help but worry for dean, who's quite voracious about food. castiel peers at harold's thermos, eyes returning to his face with a jump while his brows lift. he seems surprised to be called upon, but rushes to answer, earnest. ]

Yes, I'll— I'll watch over you. I watch over Dean often.

[ it's the one last thing he feels he's truly capable of doing, as an angel.

but he can't help adding, with a slip of his tongue, as though the words were on the tip and simply fell from his mouth: ]

... While he sleeps, mostly. But I don't mind doing it while you're awake.

[ Oh. He'd taken that joke so very seriously. Castiel has been downtrodden if not cynical so far in their interactions, even when he's speaking of something supposedly positive like his fondness for humanity. It's unexpected to see this side of him, eager to please or possibly eager to prove himself trustworthy, Harold isn't sure.

Out of pure reflex he returns sarcastically, ] I'd be alarmed if you were watching me while I sleep. [ Especially since he's now sleeping in a tightly secured wing of the library; knowing someone could still get in, no matter how friendly, would send John into a tizzy. ]

Who's Dean?

[ It seems easier to ask that than acknowledge Castiel's sudden earnestness in looking after him. But it also seems perhaps somehow important to prove that Harold is willing to give him a chance. He's calculated the risks, so this isn't impulsive -- though he expects John to scold him later nonetheless -- but Harold has always been more willing to give chances than John. That's really how they'd met at all. And he is fascinated by Castiel and a little fond of him already.

So he reaches out for the cup of tea Castiel had poured for himself in expectant request. ]

Oh. I'm not.

[ he narrows his eyes in confusion, a crease forming between his brows. does harold want him to? he could. but then he asks the million dollar question and castiel forgets all about his brief internal conflict. this one is not so brief. there are many ways one could describe dean winchester, and castiel still experiences some amount of discomfort when making decisions for himself. his pupils track back and forth, clearly deliberating how to answer.

if it weren't for the tea, he might not answer at all. at least not with any sort of honesty. someone who's also come from my world, he thinks, with dazai's words ringing in his head. hannibal's actions had only resulted in him taking them even more seriously. it's dangerous to be trapped within this fishbowl place, when there might be predators swimming in the water.

but he can't help the truth that falls from his mouth, even if he delays for just a moment by pushing harold's tea toward him (careful not to spill it). he had, after all, been talking about dean when he espoused to harold about the joys of humanity. ]

My friend. I like watching him sleep. [ a pause. he quickly adds: ] Because he's my friend.

[ what is this? circular logic?

castiel looks flustered. ]

[ He's so very literal, Harold thinks, bemused. But he appreciates the confirmation, if nothing else. Somehow he feels like Castiel hasn't figured out lying alongside not figuring out fine art or a literal or figurative sense of taste.

That is some circular reasoning, but Castiel looks so flustered that Harold isn't going to poke holes in it. He typically respects others' personal lives whenever he can, since he wants them to respect his overall need for privacy. ]

You're fortunate to have him here with you, [ is all he says, thinking about how different things would be if he or John were here alone, and didn't have one another.

Then he takes the tea cup, double checks with himself that he's really going to do this, and takes a sip. It's a proper tasting: Harold closes his eyes, smells the aroma first (still perfectly warm and steaming), sips, takes a second sip, then sets it down. When his eyes open again he has a sense of wonder written across his face, Harold at his most appreciating humanity like he'd told Castiel when they first met. He loves this little glimpse into people from thousands of years ago and what they were experiencing. It makes his mind race and his mood warm with connections. ]

Fascinating. I did think it was likely to be an oolong, since it's Xi'an.

Yes.

[ it is fortunate that dean is here with him. he watches harold take the tea cup and continues speaking. ]

I'm grateful he should have the opportunity to save his world.

[ castiel inclines his head at harold's comment. castiel had been there, but there's a sense of nostalgia surrounding the entire affair. so many things have passed into antiquity. species, cultures, and civilizations. the amount that have been lost over the eons is staggering. 99% of all species on their earth have gone extinct, and he was there. watching it happen. ]

I've never had an opportunity to taste it before, and I have nothing to compare it to. But I... like it.

I think.

I thought you didn't have taste buds, [ Harold immediately returns, intensely curious. ] Or is liking it based on something else?

[ How do angels work? Not a question he ever thought he'd be asking himself. Utterly bizarre. Harold's past thinking this experience could be a surreal dream -- it's been too much time and it's too consistent -- but once in a while he gets hit with a moment of disbelief, similar to the moments of disbelief in grieving, when he can't possibly accept that the person is gone.

Grieving for his normal life in a way, perhaps. It is a loss of its own. But at least to make up for it he gets these utterly fascinating puzzles put before him, like how angels experience tea. ]

Oh, I have no sense of taste when I'm at full power. But since I was cut off from Heaven, my power is failing.

[ ah.

he didn't want to share that. even if harold seems trustworthy, no one needs proof of his weakness. this is why harold is operating at a deficit. castiel left out some key facts at hannibal's party about how his powers, specifically his sense of taste, work. his mouth twists, and his brow quirks, and he looks down into his tea. ]

Um. Normally, I only taste molecules. That's how I recognized this.

[ Even Harold drinking honesty-inducing tea isn't going to pry about Castiel being cut off of from Heaven. It's too personal, too bold, and he trusts if Castiel wants to tell him, he'll tell him on his own terms.

But that doesn't stop his own honesty from being forthcoming. ]

That's unfortunate. There's more to life than molecules. [ Harold says this as an appreciator of both art and science. Without quite realizing the impulse before he does it, he reaches out and pours himself a cup of tea. ]

Based on others, I suspect this will be my favorite tea, which should be a sencha green. Shall we trade?

[ Harold's been watching enough of the day to get a sense of how this goes, and now that he knows Castiel can in fact taste things, he's not going to waste any time once compelled to honesty. He loves the finer things and he sincerely wants to share them with others, especially those who haven't had a chance to appreciate them before. ]

[ castiel shrugs. whether there is or there isn't has no bearing on him, but he wouldn't deny it. what was the point of giving humans all these senses if not to experience the world with? of course they were going to enjoy themselves. it was only natural. if human life ware only about survival, there wouldn't be any point.

to any of it. ]

Is that how it works?

[ he hadn't asked anyone else about their experiences yet. but he passes over his tea to trade for harold's and takes a sip, trying his best to savor the flavor, brow knitting in concentration. his tongue isn't as sensitive as the human organ, though eventually his power will fail completely and give way to mortality. still, he recognizes both the strain and the flavor as being distantly adjacent to his own cup of tea. it has a strong scent of sweet grass that gives him a vague sense of old memory, one he can't quite recall. ]

Apparently. It's hideously coercive, which seems par for the course around here.

[ That just slips right out. Harold's been thinking it, of course, but he's not usually so overtly scathing in his commentary unless he's close with the person he's speaking to.

Nonetheless, he's still intensely curious about Castiel's experience of sencha. Learning the sensory experience is at the molecular level has hardly dimmed his interest. ]

Well? What do you think?

Coercive...?

[ he knows what the word means, but he wants harold's explanation for how this situation fits the definition. it's one of those things that angels seem to struggle to understand — coercion, manipulation, using people as though they're objects. even though he would tell you it's wrong to deny a human's humanity, he also took jimmy's body back under duress.

jimmy deserved his eternal stay in paradise. but castiel didn't feel any guilt when he offered himself again to spare his daughter. ]

I think I like it.

[ he sounds eager. ]

[ He immediately understands why Castiel might struggle with that train of thought -- it requires a relatively nuanced understanding of human behavior. Maybe he should give him a book on economics and rational versus irrational actors... ]

If it's your favorite, you're likely to drink more of it, [ Harold clarifies, ] which means you'll get more and more of whatever horrible effect it's no doubt about to inflict on us.

[ It's... charming, that Castiel sounds so eager to say he likes his favorite tea. Unwillingly, Harold smiles just a tiny bit. Even with that, his own words are kicking his brain to keep going-- ]

If it does affect you and you aren't able to keep your faculties, I'll have to call John, [ he sighs suddenly. He knows he would get, and deserve, a scolding. ] Getting seduced by extinct tea varieties is not my finest hour.

[ there are a lot of things he could use books on, but history says he learns best through practical means. of course, some things are difficult to convey through practical means, so books it is. it's not like it'd hurt for him to read a little more.

ironically, angels just don't read very often. ]

Ah. I see. That does make sense.

[ castiel takes another sip of his own tea anyway. hm. ]

Who is John?

[ Harold would be extremely horrified that angels don't read very often. They have infinite time, and they aren't using it to handle their book backlog? Honestly. ]

John is a very good friend, [ he says earnestly, ] and a trusted colleague.

[ A beat of silence. ]

Oh dear. I think I know what the affect is. I'm not normally so forthcoming about the nature of John and I's relationship.

You aren't?

[ at first, he thinks, what does that have to do with anything? and then it hits him. he looks down into his tea and then back at harold, squinting. he hesitates, and then continues: ]

Ask me something.

[ Harold is still under the influence of the tea, so the question he really wants to ask -- one that does also accomplish Castiel's unstated goal of testing the tea's effects on him -- slips right out. ]

Why are you critical of other angels?

They want the war.

[ castiel takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring. he suppresses the urge to take another drink of his tea. instead, he stares down into the brown liquid, shame taking up all the room on his features. ]

And I judge them by the same standards I judge myself. I'm a poor excuse for an angel, but at least I— at least I know that this is wrong.

[ He doesn't have to ask whether Castiel meant to be that forthcoming; it's evident in his bearing, and Harold feels momentarily awful for taking advantage of the situation, even though Castiel had asked him to. Then the content sinks in, and though Harold doesn't have any of the details, doesn't know what the war is about or who it's between, it doesn't seem like that really matters.

War is war is war, cruelty is cruelty.

Normally he'd be quite measured in his response here. It's a delicate topic, one that clearly means a lot to Castiel, and Harold doesn't want to be too forward. He's still (futilely) trying to keep some kind of distance from others. Instead-- ]

I can't tell you if you are or are not a poor angel, but not wanting war makes you a good person. Which is the far harder path -- and the only one we can really pursue.

"I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to succeed, but I am bound to live up to what light I have."

[ Yes, Harold's genuine, unfiltered thoughts are poetic quotes from major historical figures. ]

[ he's trying not to shake his head, shoulders and neck stiff against the compulsion, but the call to honesty presses him to speak his thoughts. yes, he understands now exactly what harold was getting at. he hadn't realized, all this time, what he was doing. what he was saying. he supposes it doesn't matter. these aren't lies coming out of his mouth, and though his eyes soften at what harold has to say in answer, he can't help what he says next.

castiel closes his eyes and angles his face toward the table. ]

Of course I'm a poor angel. I'm petty and bitter and short-tempered and cruel. And I'm a coward. I almost— [ he inhales. ] I was going to let it happen. I had to be convinced to help.

[ he spreads his hands, as though to say, see? finally raising his eyes again. isn't that the worst of all? that he should have known better and had to be told. ]

I don't just hold the other angels to the same standard. I see myself in them.

[ the quote may be lost on him, but its meaning isn't. ]

[ Harold can't help but laugh a little, hollowly, a short and bitter sound. He glances down at his tea and considers taking another sip, go all in, but he stops himself. He still has self-control in behavior, just not in word, it seems. ]

If that's all it takes to write someone off, then we're all doomed, [ he quips. ] Everything you've said is something I could say about myself.

[ The words keep coming but now they appear pained, Harold actively fighting to prevent it, hating that he's mentioning this-- ]

I lost my oldest and closest friend because he couldn't convince me to help.

[ Mentioning Nathan's death hurts. It hurts profoundly, a wound only a few years old and only barely healed. It was his fault he died, and he watched it happen. Harold closes his eyes for a moment and takes a steadying breath, forcing himself to recover. It's not so bad a confession, it doesn't say anything material about him, but--

It feels like it says everything. ]

Knowing what is wrong is not a small thing, Castiel.

I'm sorry.

[ about harold's friend. and that he can say these things about himself. harold holds his own power, with which comes responsibility, but castiel doesn't really understand it. his ignorance about modern technology is a blind spot, and his pride won't let him fill it in.

but regardless, he can understand the feeling. regret. ]

You're right. It's not.

Free-will is about making choices. And I chose.

[ castiel's fingers curl helplessly against the smooth tabletop. he's forgotten the tea. he keeps thinking that he should stop talking, but the words keep coming anyway. ]

But I... I wanna go home. And I don't wanna have to kill my brothers anymore. How can I be a good person, when this is the choice I have to make? How can I... How can I be a good person when I wish I hadn't done it?

[ he's struck by what he admits: the peal of shock obvious as it twitches across his features. a careful blankness is pulled over it in its place. he sits very still. ]

[ He doesn't want power or responsibility -- that was the point of his whole arrangement with Nathan, where Nathan got the accolades and the attention, and Harold got to hide at his desk and write code. It was the point of the Machine, of creating something he trusts more than a person and giving it away, cutting off his own access. Harold wants to empower others to do good and then go home to his loved ones.

These days he's happy if he accomplishes any amount of the former, because his own choices have rendered the latter impossible.

Hearing Castiel say he doesn't want to have to kill his brothers anymore twists his heart, and his expression crumples into horrified empathy. All of Harold's typical reserve evaporates in the face of that grief and rapid blankness. ]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[ It's what he wants to say so it comes out, unvarnished. He can't make this choice simpler for him, couldn't even if he knew the whole story. Harold doesn't expect there is a way to make a choice like that simple. There's no right answer and sometimes there's barely a way forward. Sometimes the only path you can see is one where you're crawling, where you prevent war by killing family, a scenario Harold cannot even begin to fathom.

His words aren't under his control but his actions are, he reminds himself, and he stretches a hand out across the table to Castiel in silent request to take it. ]

Let's not say anything further. Indulge my silly human instincts and just hold my hand, please.

[ Perhaps they can just sit and be present until it wears off -- and being present, really, is the only kindness Harold knows how to offer here. He doesn't want to risk either of them saying anything further that they don't mean to, but he won't leave him alone after a confession like that. ]

November Mingle

pls telepathy with Bear if desired. he is normal Dog just Very Good

good dog

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