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

[electroburst]

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.

Comments

[mercedis]

[ There’s a breath that escapes, which could be taken as a laugh: his lips even fidget with the urge to smile, but he doesn’t let it quite get there. He might be taken with the alcohol at this point, but he’s still stubbornly clinging to the protective parts of his personality, as though even in this setting, he can’t quite let himself go just yet. Rather than argue, he lets Nanami take the blue darts, rolling his fingers back to cover the pink ones. ]

Can’t say they’re speaking to me, if that’s what you mean.

[ Much like the flowers, he’s out of luck. Still: he gives his shoulders a slight roll, lifting up one of the darts as though to test how heavy it is, before his hands drop again.

If it’s Nanami that he’s betting with—- ]

I want a clear answer to all those things I asked before. The things you avoided.

[ One of his brows lifts, directing his gaze to Nanami as though to gauge his expression. ]

Think that’s fair? I’ll let you go first.

[overtid]

If you could say that, I'd tell you to switch to water.

[ Living, growing flowers are one thing. Pink darts are another. Though, should they be? Standing a place like this when considering all the possible universes, why rule out the possibility of sentient darts? It's annoying that he has to think of the ridiculous as reasonable, but scientific understanding in his world had already been limited by its inability to recognize cursed energy.

Speaking of. ]

Declining to answer shouldn't be called avoiding. Or, do you think you're entitled to my life story?

[ Despite the words, Nanami doesn't speak coldly. Instead, thoughtful, his attention on the darts gathered in his palm. He takes one between his fingers. ]

But, it's fine.

[ Glancing at Cloud, his mouth easy, as he stands at the line. ]

I was thinking of cheating, anyway.

[ Which will inevitably lead to the sort of answers now waged. As anyway leaves his mouth, still looking more at Cloud, he throws, and it's simple. Those without enough cursed energy shouldn't be able to see anything, but here, who knows?

Dividing the center circle, the bullseye target, 7:3. The dart won't hit the exact center of the circle, but it hits within it. ]

[mercedis]

[ There's nothing particularly cold in his voice: and nothing that makes him think he's offended him, and yet the words stick with him in a way, uncomfortable, as though maybe he's overstepped his boundaries; they might be drinking buddies, or he might even wager a cautious throw towards the term friends if not safer to leave it as acquaintances. He's had so few of them that it's hard to know if he's pushing too hard, going towards something uncomfortable.

The thing is, he'd been pretty damn good at darts. Beat out Wedge's score, anyway, back in Seventh Heaven, and made it to the top of the list. Whether Nanami doesn't want to share or not will be at the mercy of the game, maybe.

As his gaze goes to the easy dart that Nanami throws at the board: his expression shifts into an annoyed sort of scowl. ]

Guess I'm not entitled to anything. [ --with a faint lift of his lips in a reluctant sort of smile, as he decides not to go for the dart board, but for his glass instead. Gulping it down. ] I'm gonna lose.

[overtid]

Probably.

[ Agreeing, though it's certainly possible Cloud's excellent at darts and would match him. Nanami has good aim and high precision even without using his technique, but he could certainly slip up. The beer's shit, but he's been drinking enough of it at a steady pace. ]

But if I'm caught cheating, then I've already lost.

[ Nonetheless, he readies the next dart. ]

The Memorandum on the Obligation of Jujutsu Sorcerers, a legal agreement between jujutsu sorcerers and the civilian government, forbids disclosure to non-sorcerers of anything pertaining to sorcery, or shamanism, be it cursed techniques, cursed spirits, or cursed objects.

[ Throwing the second dart. It lands just above the first, still securely within that center circle. ]

The punishments for violating that rule, and any of the others, range from property confiscation to house arrest to death. Logically, none of that would apply here. I've also already told you a little about cursed spirits. Nonetheless, I deemed it prudent to continue adhere in this still unknown situation.

[ Third dart, third throw, third center hit. ]

It's true I worked for a school. Jujutsu High trains sorcerers and doubles as the headquarters for sorcerers in Tokyo.

[ Stepping forward to retrieve his darts, Nanami then returns to his cup, gesturing for Cloud to take his position at the line. ]

[mercedis]

[ It’s hard to know where to put his attention: on the glass up to his lips, nearly finished now and skimming towards foam at the bottom, or to the smart click of each dart as it hits the board, succinct and clean, or to Nanami’s words, which are just as clean cut and just as distracting. His brows lift over the lip of the glass; with a hard swallow, he gingerly wipes at his mouth with the back of a glove, nodding faintly towards one of the tavern staff to gesture refills for the both of them.

Shitty beer or not, it feels like they’re gonna need more than a few glasses more to parse through all this. ]

Sorcerers. A school…that trains sorcerers.

[ Cursed spirits. That’s what Nanami had meant. But it still doesn’t quite explain what those even are: things that need to be eradicated, and by special people, it seems like. Or at least those trained in the craft. Something like the ninjas in Wutai, or—-even like Aerith and the Ancients, or—-?

Setting his glass down, he moves to the starting line, darts in hand, and even goes to line up one shot with his gaze: before his arms immediately drop down, turning to look at Nanami instead. ]

So then, make me a sorcerer. [ Dumb inebriated logic. ] And then you won’t get in trouble or whatever, right?

[overtid]

[ A school... that trains sorcers. Perhaps it sounds ridiculous. Perhaps, instead, it would have sounded more ridiculous that afternoon when they took brief refuge from the abrasive sun, beer cool enough for having been just tapped from the barrel. The more time passes here, the more the uncanny slinks below notice (as though leaving only the unsettling residuals, not quite cursed energy), the more exposure to loose-lipped "Chosen" from other worlds — though Nanami speaks now in concession to other factors, this timing might not be bad.

In any case, there's no need to affirm or confirm. Cloud echoed, not asked.

As Cloud puts down his glass, Nanami lifts his, taking a swig. And another. Not in any rush to finish it, and not having noticed Cloud catch the attention of the staff, he pauses at that, glancing down at the almost insultingly thin liquid. In his periphery, Cloud lifts his arm then drops it, without the telltale thwack of the dart hitting.

Nanami raises his eyes when addressed, and with his glass then held nearer to his midsection, has nothing to mask the faint, faint twitch of his lips. At least he sounds matter-of-fact enough, neither gentle nor harsh in the immediate shutdown. ]

No. Unless you've been suppressing it, you don't have sufficient cursed energy. Additionally, at the moment, it doesn't matter.

[ Now his glass does its secondary job, at but not yet tipped to his lips. ]

There aren't cursed spirits here, and the jujutsu authorities wouldn't be able to punish me anyway.

[ One could easily hear that and understand: of course they coudn't, since Nanami's here and they are in his world. There's another reason. ]

[mercedis]

[ It's funny: that makes his lips curl up with amusement, and for a moment, he thinks he might even laugh. The hint of it is there in his throat; trying to hide it, he directs his gaze back to the dart board, lifts up his arm, lines up the shot a second time, and--drops his arm back down with a swift shake of his head.

Twisting to Nanami again, then: ] You know, I think that's the first thing that's made me feel good in this place. Not having cursed energy or whatever.

[ He doesn't fully comprehend what that means, of course, or that it's necessary for whatever sorcery Nanami is speaking of, but he's always felt that shadow of something unknown lingering over him: the sick twist to his stomach at the mention of Sephiroth, or his past, and the headaches that won't stop even in this new town. Being cursed would have certainly made sense. The mako, perhaps, sealing him away with the fate of all the dead people it had once contained.

But he doesn't have sufficient cursed energy. Great.

With an almost lopsided sort of smile, he goes back to face the board a final time. This time, the dart does connect, a sharp thwack of the board where it hits not quite as dead center as Nanami's, but still close. After all, he's relying on his drunken skills, here. ]

Glad to hear you won't be punished, though. I'd take responsibility for that and break you out - free of charge, even. [ Murmured, as he takes aim and throws the next dart. ]

[overtid]

[ Cloud positions himself again, Nanami angles his glass, and Cloud drops position again. The beer's pinching his tongue then, sifting through his teeth, so when the mercenary turns, he's swallowing.

Though he doesn't expect what's said, it's not enough to catch in his throat or widen his eyes. Just a quirk in his brow, more wry than surprised. Good instincts, which shouldn't surprise, between what Cloud surely honed as a SOLDIER and further as a mercenary — more than musclework and blade arts — and a name as inherently ominous as cursed energy.

Nanami nods, not exactly approving, because he isn't that kind of man. Glancing into his glass to confirm that naught but dregs remain, he sets it back onto the table. ]

If you feel good, then something good came of it. I don't mind that.

[ Maybe it's the beer, maybe how earnest that crooked smile, but in this moment, a feeling of familiarity strikes like a blow to the head. No, a blow to the chest, where it reverberates. They aren't much alike, Cloud and Ino, other than their age. But he thinks, unbidden, of the BBQ restaurant, the request for his recommendation. To me, doing things the right way is really important. Especially when doing dirty work like jujutsu sorcery.

Crossing his arms, darts secured in a fist, Nanami's attention drifts toward the ceiling. Crossbeams. Old wood. Below, the sound of the dart. ]

It's dirty work. Jujutsu sorcery.

[ Something distant in his voice.

Brought back down, abruptly, by what Cloud next says. That surprises, properly, a pop of his eyebrows as the dart flies. Only the staff swooping in to swap their glasses keeps more from showing on his face, the distraction righting him. ]

That's noble for a mercenary. Heroic, even.

[ Utterly bizarre though it is to be the subject of another person's heroics. But, that path of thought could branch to Haibara, and there he won't allow himself to wander. The next dart flies and he confirms where each landed with a look. ]

Remember, though — just before I came here, I was unemployed.

[mercedis]

[ Heroic, is it? The thought makes him shake his head. No, he's never been a hero. Wanted to be, back then, wanted to so badly he put everything into motion: joining SOLDIER, going back to Nibelheim, meeting-- seeing-- or, killing--

His eye reflects the bulk of the pain, a twitch of his lid before his lashes hit his cheek. For a moment, it feels like the liquor and the headache are working together, one of them pulling at the pit of his stomach while the other pulls at the strings behind his eyes; his hand stays steady, poised to fire off his last dart, but he doesn't move, doesn't even breathe as he lets it pass. There's something there. Something about being a hero. Something about--someone else. Someone important. Someone with a legacy.

His head swims, and with an abrupt shake of it, he forces his gaze to focus on the dart board again. The third shot lands close to where he wants it to: not good enough to beat Nanami, but what else can he do? With an indifferent shrug, he moves to the table where they've gotten new glasses; he picks up one, sipping off the top before he speaks. ]

...So you're saying someone unemployed doesn't deserve to be rescued? [ A wry lift of his brows, as he takes another gulp of the beer. It's cold, and it helps center him in the moment. ] That seems unrelated. If I like someone, I'm gonna save them.

[ There's a wince as he realizes what just came out of his mouth; he sets his glass down with a firm thunk. ]

Not very cost efficient I guess. But then again, I don't like a lot of people.

[ Whatever. Now he has to roll with it. ] You won, by the way.