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

[She frowns heavily as his words sink in. It only takes one. In the past few days, how many times could she have died? But she's survived, hasn't she, even after her parents got her fired and Jayce all but told her she'd be better off spending her days behind a desk.

She scowls defensively.]

I've gone my whole life without being stabbed. I suspect I can manage.

[Of course, she's never had a knife pulled on her until just now.]

[ Carver’s eyebrow goes up. ]

Would you? If I hadn’t pulled back?

I...

[No, and she knows it.

But she can hear Jayce's voice in her head, I just want you to be safe, and all of that defensiveness she feels is suddenly very evident in her voice.]

I can take care of myself.

Mhmm-hmm.

[ It’s not his business, in the end. He knows that. In a better moment, he’d remember it. Wouldn’t get caught in such a sentimental trap. But it’s a strange moment. The boundaries keep blurring. He’s become strange to himself.

He clicks his teeth and leans back. ]

You armed?

No. I haven't got my rifle with me.

[She admits it freely, and only after it's out of her mouth does she consider that being so open about her lack of weapons might make her seem like an easy target.

But what's said is said.]

Should I be worried that you're planning to attack me again?

[ A rifle, then. He wonders if she's any good with it.

Carver shrugs. He continues watching her close. Calculating. ]

Always. I'm not one of yours, and you're not one of mine.

That's no reason to attack. Just because we aren't from the same place doesn't mean we're enemies.

[Perhaps the idea hurts a little more now than it otherwise might. Perhaps the memory of Vi walking away through the rain, saying they could never work out because they come from opposite sides of the river is too fresh. Her shoulders stiffen, her hands clench, before the tension in her body releases and something like anger gives way to intense, ironclad conviction.]

I'm not your enemy.

[ You're young, Carver thinks but doesn't say. You're a kid and you think the world will arc the right way because people will do the right thing, eventually. And he ought to scoff but he doesn't, he just watches her. He believed that once, too. ]

You will be one day.

[ This, he says almost gently. ]

These things happen.

[Caitlyn does scoff.]

You're wrong. There's no reason at all why an-- an-- accident of birth should force two people to hate each other.

[He's wrong and she's right. She has to believe that.]

And besides, we've got enough problems as it is without making enemies of each other.

Never said a thing about hate. I don’t hate you.

[ That was another lesson. He doesn’t hate many things, outside of Dixon. There’s no time for it, no energy. It gives the dead too much power.

He cocks his head. ]

Never said a thing about birth, either. You brought that up all on your own.

[There's a slight tension in her jaw, a scowl that crosses her face before fading, as her eyes snap back to the tea.

No, he hadn't said anything about birth, but not one of yours, not one of mine had made her think--]

I--

[But, then, why? Why make enemies? He has people to bury. Living people who may or may not be missing him. Some sort of group that views everyone else as the enemy, or as potential enemies? But not out of animosity, if he's to be believed that he doesn't hate her.

She frowns at him, eyeing him sharply.]

What is it like in your world?

[ Carver watches her for a long, silent moment. It’s occurred to him, in a distant sort of way, that maybe no one else here ever survived the fall. That maybe no one else could understand the totality of it, or care to.

Then: ]

You ever been hungry enough you’d kill someone with a rock for their supplies? It’s like that.

[ His voice is soft. Matter of fact. ]

[She's instinctively taken aback, almost incredulous, at the idea that anyone could be in such a position. But there were people in the tent city at the bottom of a fissure, desperate and feral, like wild animals, people who had nothing at all to their name. Not even food. After seeing that, she's convinced, now, that she understands how the poorest live. And it appalls her. No one should have to live like that.

But still.]

You could try sharing instead of killing each other with rocks. [She really doesn't intend to sound condescending.]

Mhmm. I saw people try that. All they did was get killed by the other guy with a rock.

[ The world is simple now. It's a different shade of brutal, maybe, but the rules are clear. You fight or you die. ]

But you seem smart, so: educate me. There's not enough to go around. But my God, there sure are a lot of hungry people with rocks. How's that gonna work?

[Caitlyn's unflagging optimism and belief in her own abilities has yet to be put to a true test. She's always been the child, the daughter, the rookie, the disciplinary problem. Her thoughts have never been taken seriously, and the only skill that's ever earned her a modicum of respect is her skill with a gun.

So when he posits the question, she pauses, surprised that he seems to be really asking her for her opinion.]

Distribute what there is as fairly as possible, ration as need be, and inform everyone that we'll work to acquire more. Food can be farmed or hunted. Water can be collected. Assign people tasks based on their skills. Most people would rather work together to survive than-- than murder each other.

There's no more to be had in this scenario. Somebody's gonna go hungry.

[ He just watches her. Considering her words and her reasoning. She believes things will work out. That's almost admirable, even if it's never been true. Someone always loses. ]

There's always more.

[She's served multi-course meals every day. She hunts in the forests outside the city, where game animals are so plentiful that she'll never lack for prey. There's always more.]

If the land won't grow any more crops or the game's gone, why not move?

Because it's the same everywhere, [ he replies simply. ] Nothing but rot. And people are hungry now. So, what's your play? You gonna move on and hope, and let your people starve to death? That's a bad way to die. It happens in stages. None of it's gentle.

[ Carver just watches her. This became an easy calculation for him a long time ago. ]

Or are you gonna pick up a rock?

I would not pick up a rock.

[Of that she's certain.]

How do you know it's the same everywhere? And what makes you think that, once everybody's killed everybody else with rocks, you won't starve anyway? Better to take a chance working together than to murder everybody else and hope that solves your problem.

[ Carver just gives her a small, thin smile. He's almost sorry for it, this kid who clearly believes in something. Nothing's stomped her down hard enough to make her mean - not yet, anyway. And that means she'll either take it when the time comes, or she'll die. Maybe by his hand.

It's a quiet, distant thought. He tries not to remember the faces of his dead. He lets them fall from his mind. But he knows something about this one, doesn't he? ]

What's your name, kid?

[It catches her off guard, how quickly he changes the topic, and that throws her off balance, and that makes it very important to hide how off balance she suddenly feels. So she scowls, and answers almost defensively.]

Caitlyn.

[ He just watches her. Wondering what to make of this moment, this conversation, the words passed between them. It’s not an interrogation. He doesn’t gain anything for the group—the others aren’t here, are probably dead. So many fell in Meridian, left to fall and maybe rot in the sun. Did Shaw bury them? Did she put a blade through their skulls? He doesn’t know, has no way of knowing. But the question lingers. ]

You’re fast, Caitlyn. That’s good.

[Her gaze flicks instinctively down to the knife he stored away, as she wonders why he's complimenting her speed and can't help but worry whether he's about to put it to the test.]

I am.

[She says it with as much confidence as she can muster.]

[ Carver hums a little. His gaze never leaves her. Not for a moment. ]

Don't close the distance like this. It'll end bad. And I like you, kid.

[Caitlyn likes touching people. It's instinctive. It's comforting. No one's ever admonished her for it before, and why should they? Most people, she remains convinced, will not attempt to stab her for merely touching them.

But instead of offering another objection and receiving another admonishment, she circles back around to an unanswered question.]

Why aren't you sure they're missing you? The people you have to get back for. You said 'maybe' when I suggested someone might be missing you. Why?

[If she were less inclined to be charitable, she might ask whether it had to do with his killing people with rocks. But 'I like you, kid' is more encouragement than she's gotten from most people in her life, and he probably is trying to help her, mad as his methods and confounding as his conclusions may be. So she refrains from being uncharitable.]

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cw: starvation

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