expiationlogs | (OPEN MINGLE) Ain't no party like an Aldrip party

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(OPEN MINGLE) Ain't no party like an Aldrip party

Who: The Chosen
Where: Aldrip inn
What: Open mingle log (with mod approval)!
Warnings: Nothing major anticipated, other than light (underaged) drinking and comic mischief, but PM me if any warn-worthy things happen and I can update this space.

Feel free to use this log as a completely open mingle for all characters new and old! There will be a few prompts below the cut, but you're free mess around with them or come up with your own ideas for toplevels, and tag around as you please.

Nestled in the heart of the quaint town of Aldrip, the inn, formally known as The Inn, has housed the Chosen of Expiation since their initial arrival. In spite of the occasional influx of new Chosen, they've dedicatedly provided rooms, food and drink, and basic amenities without buckling—even during the food shortages and other issues that have plagued the town. Of course, the Chosen have been no slouches themselves, repaying the hospitality with mercenary work, hunting and fishing, cooking, completing odd jobs, and much more to help bolster the economy. Even those, er, less magnanimous sorts have benefitted from this give-and-take, although there are those that prefer their living space to be a bit more solitary (or perhaps cave-ier) that might not have noticed as much.

In the days to follow, most won't be able to recount exactly how The Party started. The true story is that one particular new arrival, after having spent a day or two scouting the area out and, deciding it's chill enough, opted to do what he does best: be a public menace. What is known is that rounds of drinks start getting ordered and handed out, and soon platters of cheese, fresh bread, and other victuals make the rounds as well, appearing on tables that quickly begin filling with people. Somehow, someway, local musicians are pulled in to play and given a striking, energetic setlist to set the tone. The word gets out—party at the inn!

And boom: just like that, it's a party, and everyone's invited.

Early on, the offerings are relatively meager. The inn's food stores aren't completely bottomless after the shortages, to say the least, and there are a sight more Chosen (and local residents who also join in on the fun) than there is free food to toss at them. The drinks range from milk, water and juice to scuzzy, pisswater beer, which is a bit more plentiful. As the tavern portion of the inn fills with people, the music relatively ambient so that you can still hear the people at the table next to you talking, others bring their own food and drink, adding to the options on offer.

Others bring things like cards to play with, or dice and coins to gamble with, and set up spaces at tables toward the back. There's even an amateur fortune teller, heavy emphasis on amateur. Maybe you've got some party games of your own in mind, or you're a natural-born performer and want to hit the stage. Maybe you'd rather just grab a pint and lurk in the corner doing some people-watching. Or maybe you're just hungry and want to stuff a bunch of cheese in your pockets for later. Either way, there's something here for everyone.

As evening wears on, the peaceful inn party blossoms into a proper block bash. Even if you're not the partygoing sort, it'd be a little difficult to ignore the sheer ruckus going on downstairs while you attempt to read quietly in your room. The music, chatter and laughter carries on down the street, attracting even more people. By this point, it seems as if the food and drinks have multiplied, thanks mostly in part to others showing up with their own offerings, Chosen and local alike. It's getting rowdy in a few places—the music's louder and livelier, people are dancing and singing, and the gambling/party games' stakes seem to just keep climbing higher and higher. It's a good time all around. If you're not the quiet, loner type, anyway.

Thinking of sitting this one out? Think again: somebody starts going around to all the rooms and knocking on the doors, calling out to come join the fun. By the time you get to the door, though, whoever's up here disturbing the peace is gone, but maybe you can track them down by their voice at some point and wring their neck later.

In addition to the escalating merriment, all this imbibing also has the added benefit of loosening a few lips. Now's your chance to pick up the latest Aldrip gossip! You might even hear tell of a few pesky monsters that need slaying, so if you want to jump on that bounty before anyone else gets to it, you better act quickly. (But maybe don't run out into the woods in the middle of the night to fight monsters while inebriated... or do, nobody's stopping you.)

Late into the night, the festivities are still going, and they're... messy. Fortunately the drinks and provisions seem to have run to the bottom of the barrel, so those that've been partying hard for hours are getting cut off whether they like it or not. The band's getting tired, the tempo of the music fluctuating. Some people might like to go to bed sometime soon, so maybe now it's time for the voices of reason to tell those still dancing on top of the tables to get down. And why is there a chicken in here? ...And oh no, somebody tell those guys to take that swordfight outside!! Yeeaaahh, maybe it's about time to shut this production down.

Or maybe not. Let the good times roll until the sun comes up! That's up to you.

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Hah, that's just the thing. You don't even need that many bad eggs.

[He leans forward to rest his cheek against his hand, gesturing at the air with his free one as he explains. ]

Standford Prison Experiment took place in America in the early 70's. A psychology professor created a simulation of prison environment. He turned area of the school into a prison and randomly assigned the volunteers either as prisoners or guards. These were your normal, everyday people, mind you. The experiment lasted about two weeks and had to be stopped prematurely, as the guards were becoming more brutal with their treatment of the prisoners. After the experiment all participants showed signs of post traumatic disorder.

[He turns to take another sip out of his awful drink, then flashes Vi a knowing smile.] Power corrupts and every human being is capable of cruelty, if the situation is right.

[ There is something like admiration in the look she gives her, which is probably not Good, but what does it matter? She's not going to be arresting anyone here. No comment on Expiation being better than anything, but she'll still ask: ]

What'd you do?

[ Dude.

Well, okay, fine. If he can take a selfie that's half tits on Roche's phone, he guesses leaving cooties on his is fair play. He makes a face (half smirk, nose wrinkled) as he takes his phone back, and promptly snaps it open to stick Roche in his contacts. He's gotten so used to shitty or no signal at all in the last couple years that not being able to use his phone for much doesn't phase him, but you never know. He usually gets lucky whenever he needs to reach someone the most. ]

Yeah, see... that makes no sense. What the fuck?

[ Okay, so Roche has a point. Right after that assertion, Reno snaps his phone shut again with a very satisfying clack, decisive and full of finality. It really does just hit different on them damn smartphones. ]

I'm two fucking years ahead of you, and yet my tech's outdated, your ID number is way ahead of the serials we got up to in my time—even that shot of Wall Market looked off. I'm not a math guy, but I don't like when the facts don't add up.

The 'key for the ignition'...

[ There's a faint shake of his head, almost like he's bashful--it's not like he typically enjoys attention, and in fact, he tries so hard to push and shove what he can off of himself, keeping boundaries where they should be, keeping hard walls between himself and others. To have Roche twisted to face him, entirely ignorant of the rest of the party, the bar, any of its other patrons--

It's a strange feeling. Even in this place, where he feels like he's mostly gotten by under the radar, he can't seem to puzzle out why Roche would be so intent on finding him at all. Is it really just for that rematch? Another dance, another race, another opportunity? ]

Hearing your own name? [ A faint twitch of his lips, amused; he keeps his gaze on his beer glass, gripping it lightly as though it tethers him down into the moment. ] From me? Is that the sort of thing that feels good?

[ He might be just a little drunk--it's a thought he has, sure, but not one he had meant to put into actual words. ]

[ The sound of the chair skidding against the floor, for some reason, makes him fidget in his own seat--as though Reno's really going to take his used cup and just leave, as though their strangely calm interaction is going to end again in something unpleasant. It's a weird feeling, to want to be tethered to someone else here, and maybe it's just because he's drunk; maybe it's because he's tired of the way everything's felt, and for once, he feels more like himself, like Reno's already seen every tangled twist of his quilted personality and he doesn't have to fabricate any of it.

Awkward, he drums a hand on the table, eyes watching Reno disappear into the middle of the bar and then, annoyed with himself, he looks back at the table. When Reno plunks down two full glasses, he jerks his chin up at him, almost surprised: so he did come back. ]

A game... [ There's a scoffing sound, but who the hell is he to say it's stupid? He would have just sat and gotten even more drunk in silence. ] Fine. Something that isn't depressing?

[ This takes a long time to compute. He gulps a mouthful of beer like he's used to it, setting the glass back down again firmly. ]

...There are washing machines. [ Look, there's nothing more depressing than hand-washing your underwear, right? ] I've used one.

[ Wow, someone get this fake First Class a medal. ]

I know the word 'no.' I just...

[She doesn't really have an excuse for this. It's true that maybe she should be a little more considerate of other people. It's not necessarily that she's inconsiderate, though sometimes Aerith simply doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. To call her 'pushy' would be a bit of an understatement, as it were.]

I just don't really listen. There's a difference.

[Aerith looks proud of pointing that out, as if it's less matter of opinion and more matter of fact. But that's how she is. She gets an idea into her head and she's just compelled to follow it. Somehow, in one way or another, she seems to get her away. Reno just solidifies that in the moments that follow.

Grinning from ear to ear, she finds her voice once more.]

Really? Well, now that you've gone and said that, I feel like I might have to be a little tougher on you than I am with others. I don't want anyone thinking I'm playing favourites or something. But I guess maybe you could be teacher's pet every once in a while.

[Because the fact of the matter is that their unique relationship is bound to let him have a little special treatment.]

[That's... not necessarily a new one, unfortunately. Wall Market has those types as well, and maybe in some ways, it'd be very easy to mistake Aerith as being a bit delicate and dainty. And yet that's intentional. It's far safer for someone like her to be underestimated by those around her. Let others think what they will. Let them underestimate her. It's a very successful tactic in circumventing unwanted attention.

When Mizuki points it out in what she'd describe as 'cheeky,' Aerith grins unabashedly.]

I don't think I look very doll-like, but sometimes people see what they want to see. It's possible that the locals might be picking that out based on my behaviour. I'm not starting fights and I always try to be helpful. Or maybe that guy was just weird.

[That guy was probably just weird, honestly.]

That's true. They do. A lot of people don't realise that.

[At least, it seems like Midgar certainly doesn't know. Or care. Maybe it's hard to care about things like that when the world is the way that it is. She'd be able to understand that.]

I'm impressed. You're knowledgeable. Do you like flowers?

[Whether he does or not, Aerith has almost immediately decided she rather likes him, somewhat sour expression and all.]

But I didn't do it to make friends.

[Maybe that's because for her, making friends is as simple as her approaching someone (like Joel, for example), and talking their ear off until she creates some kind of weird camaraderie with them. Even if it's one-sided. It could very well be that Aerith's perception of friendship is just really strange.]

I genuinely just wanted to help. But I trust if I'm causing more harm than good, they'll tell me to cut it out. Maybe they just appreciate the intention.

Now... is this because you've chosen to, or was it like you didn't have another alternative?

[Aerith knows so little about her that she's not able to make that determination. It could go either way. She could see Vi being the type of person to take on a challenge purely because she wants to. She could also see that Vi being the type to do what she considers necessary. Both are incredibly admirable traits.

And there's no reason she can't be both either. Maybe Vi was just always fated to eat and drink things that are gross.]

Either way, I think you're right. The general consensus of inn patrons has told me that the drinks here are likened to... [She pauses to think on how it's been aptly worded.] ...piss water!

[So he doesn't really know anything more than she does. Kisara has thought a lot about the passage of time, knowing they don't have proof either way. It's not like they have a wealth of people to ask either. If they tried to ask any of the locals of Aldrip, it is highly unlikely they'd get a good answer. Maybe something that would just direct them to Those Who Were There, that mysterious group that Kisara finds herself unsure if she believes in their existence.

She thinks on it some moments more, indulging in a long drink from her mug as she listens to how he weighs in. It's something else they can agree on, it seems. That seems to be happening more and more as time passes. She has to wonder if it's because she wants it to, or if it's simply falling in that way coincidentally. Perhaps that is a combination of both.]

There wasn't a lord after you?

[She looks a little surprised by that knowledge. She understands the lords of the regions that preceded Menancia. Certainly Alphen's exploits became rather public knowledge as it passed from region to region.

Leaning onto her arm, Kisara sets her mug down, looking over to him curiously.]

But what about the other regions? Aren't there a couple other ones? Are you saying they didn't have lords reigning over them?

It's a fairly recent discovery.

[His answer rings true enough. It's been some days now since he'd come across it, but he hadn't known how to approach her— he doesn't often find himself at a loss, but this combined with the other evidence he'd discovered regarding their past acquaintance... it took some consideration.

In the end, it was best if he kept some of what he'd found to himself, at least for now.]

I hadn't given the contents of this device much thought after our first days here— it malfunctioned so spectacularly then that I thought it of little use, and given we don't have such things in Ivalice, I wasn't so attached that I felt the need to keep it on my person. It wasn't until recently that I thought to dig a bit deeper. To be honest, I'd been just about to take it apart.

[He's still curious as to what he might find if he does so, but it seems it had something potentially useful to offer as it was now.]

Given we were both here tonight of our own volition... it seemed as good a time as any.

Oh. I guess that makes sense. Since sometimes these things don't work, it's not like you would have known when it was working properly.

[She's nodding along slowly, though it's evident that she's still thinking about the weight in that discovery. That's probably not an easy topic of conversation to bring up. He couldn't just randomly insert that. It would have required a careful approach. In that respect, the present moment was an opportune one. Although she's not thinking too much about helping the locals out with messing up drink orders.

After some longer moments of thought, she dips her chin thoughtfully. Where do they go from there? Why do they have to go anywhere? Neither of them really remember. Maybe they just need time. Maybe it has something to do with the other things she's had similar feelings over.

It might explain why she's felt like he was familiar to her.]

Uhm. Hm. Soooo... what now? You don't have any other things like that to share with me, do you?

No.

[It's a lie, of course, and it tastes as such on his tongue, but it comes easily all the same, as naturally as breathing. It's hardly the first he's told, and it will be far from the last.]

Nothing of that nature, at least. There is one more thing I ought to show you.

[And the question he intends to ask that goes along with it is one he already has the answer to, at least in part— but it doesn't feel even remotely real, and likely won't unless he hears it from her.

He reaches back into his pouch to pull out a second item, opening his hand to show her a simple, leather-cord necklace and setting it on the table in turn. Maybe even this is sharing too much, but the significance of the item— and his inability to place it— had been nagging at him for months now.]

This is the item I'd compared that hair piece of yours to. I don't recall receiving it, but it's been with me since I got here.

[Specifically, it had been around his neck, and remained there for quite some time— until a few days ago, in fact— though he doesn't mention that part.]

[She's the one who's asked if he had something else and she's the one nervous about whatever that might be. So when he follows up, her insides tense just a touch. What he leaves on the table is something she knows very well. It's... hers. It's about as shocking to be faced with as him having a picture of her. Except in this case, he's had it since he arrived.

Did... she give it to him at some point? Why? What would be the reason for doing such a thing? It would explain why she hasn't had it, however.

Lifting a hand, it's a subconscious thought that encourages her to splay her fingertips against her collar.]

Do you know whose that is?

[She raises her eyebrows at him, wondering if he's already aware of that answer, or if it's been simply a mystery to him.]

Such things are often seen being worn by a very particular sort where I come from.

[Especially around Balfonheim, where pirates of both sea and sky outnumber civilians, and Balthier regards him with some amusement as he takes another carefully measured sip of the woefully lacking beer in his glass.]

I prefer the sky, myself, but in the absence of a way to take wing, the sea will do well enough. I don't partner with just anyone, mind you.

. . .

[ Honestly, she can kind of see it. Mizuki just stares at Aerith as she responds, as open about herself as ever, and there's no denying that she's cute. Before she can have another Date moment, though, she'll catch it this time and just keep the comment to herself. ]

Or drunk. Or both.

[ Mizuki shrugs! ]

Better leave 'em be until they cause trouble. I've never been in a bar fight, but I'd make a great bouncer.

Maybe they're just being polite. We are their gods' Chosen, after all. Wouldn't it be rude to stop us? They might be holding back.

[That thought wasn't really enough to get Seimei himself to try interfering either, but he at least helps clean up the aftermath. That much he can do. Breaking up fights he leaves to stronger people.]

Does that mean you've seen rowdier as well? You look experienced.

[She didn't have to volunteer to help out complete strangers.]

[For quite some time, it had been a mystery— not so any longer. He raises his brows in response, mirroring her own expression even as his gaze follows her hand as it comes to rest against her neck.

As he thought.]

It's yours, is it not?

[Why he has it, he cannot say definitively, but as for what the evidence implies...

It would all be far more believable to him if he didn't know himself as well as he does. He wasn't the sort of man who allowed people to be close to him in any sense of the word— not beyond a select few. Even friends had been a luxury that he had long ago decided he could not afford.]

Had I known you had been missing it, I would have returned it much sooner.

[Except his instinct is telling him not to let it go, that it means something to him.]

Yeah. It's mine.

[She settles on those words for several long moments, wondering what more she can even say on it. It's hers. Loosing a breath, she leans over and gently dusts touch along the trail of leather cord. How long has she been without it? She knows she didn't have it when she was in the laboratory. For one reason or another, there seems to be a momentary blank space between the point of trading herself in for Marlene. Perhaps it's been missing since then.]

I didn't have it back home. Didn't have it when I arrived here either. I guess... that's just more proof of what your picture has already implied. I wondered why some of the things you said felt like things I'd heard before. I wonder how many times we've had a conversation that we've had before.

[Looking back up to him, she shakes her head.]

Didn't occur to me to say something. Before now, there was no reason to. I wonder why you have it, though. Guess I gave it to you. Or you stole it. You probably stole it, actually, knowing you. Not that I think it'd be worth much gil.

[ Claude lays down a card too -- they're evenly matched, though it remains to be seen for how long. ]

Oh, just for fun. I haven't had the time to get a fishing trip in for years now.

[ In all honesty, he's not much of a fisher. It takes far too much serenity, far too much patience. He's never been any good at sitting still. The only reason he managed in the past was the benefit of good company, and Teach had been one of the only people who could pin him down and force him to sit still for more than twenty minutes at a time. ]

I don't think I'd much like doing it professionally. It takes entirely too much waiting around for my liking.

Ooooh, boy. [ Claude rubs at the back of his neck, offering her a sheepish smile. He's used to being the quickest, cleverest one in the room -- or at least he believes he is in his own admittedly uneven estimation of himself. In a place like this, however, he finds himself at a great disadvantage. Everyone here seems to know so much about concepts that he's never encountered in his life. It's enough to amke him want to bury his nose in books until he's so well caught up that he can't be taken off guard again.

He doesn't think that will happen, though. Luckily for him, this girl seems like a nice enough sort and probably won't hold his ignorance against him. ]

I've never even heard of the concept of other worlds before. Where I'm from, it's not something anyone's thought of, even in fiction... as far as I know, I guess. I haven't read every book out there. [ Where to even begin to ask more? Well, asking people about themselves has never gone wrong. ]

What's your home like, anyway? I'd love to hear more! Even if you think it's normal, it might sound incredible to me.

People generally don't land a hit on me in the first place. That's my specialty.

[ He props his elbows up on the bar, glancing over at Vi. ]

I use a bow and arrow. Nobody gets close enough to me to land a blow -- or if they do, it's time for a shoot-off. I'm no stranger to fighting, I just like to keep work and pleasure far, far away from each other. But duly noted for if I ever decide to stretch out my hand-to-hand combat skills.

[ He's never been great at that. He's not a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but he's certainly smaller than all of the brawlers he's met. Not that that stops people like his new acquaintance here. ]

It's hard not to rank higher than a stinking hole in the ground, but I'll give them some points for amenities.

[He lifts his glass of pisswater beer to her in toast.]

I wouldn't go so far as to say "so good," but tolerable at the very least. [He smirks, raising an eyebrow.] What were you in for, then?

[TIME FOR PRISON STORIES]

I wonder much the same.

[How often have their conversations here echoes those they may have had previously? Here, they are acquaintances at best, closer to strangers than friends if only because of how he insists on conducting himself, and yet there is so often an echo of familiarity that underscores their meetings. Now, he supposes, he understands that there's a good reason why, even if the details are still lacking.

He shakes his head at the suggestion of theft, however, refuting it without hesitation.]

However it may have come into my possession, I most certainly did not steal it.

[He sounds almost insulted by the insinuation, and yet what is he to expect? She hardly knows him well enough to know that he doesn't steal just for the sake of it.]

It's hardly my usual fare— I much prefer items that might otherwise be lost to time or forgotten in some noble's vault where none can appreciate it. This— I would have had no reason to do so.

[And when he looks at it... he knows that he didn't. He can feel that much. It was significant to him because it was hers, he thinks, and that thought in itself is terrifying.]

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(OPEN MINGLE) Ain't no party like an Aldrip party

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