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expiationlogs2023-04-21 12:41 pm
electroburst) wrote in expiationlogs2023-04-21 12:41 pm
(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.
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.
no subject
Against my will it would seem, yes. In some field out in the middle of nowhere.
[ Roche looks back up. It's been a few years since he's been with Shinra and while he once thought the glow all SOLDIERs possessed was eerie (especially seeing it in his own for the first time), they're just as ordinary as any other pair of eyes. Except now they're simply stunning. Maybe it's because he was never able to get a good look at Cloud's in the tunnels and in the annex, but here in the low light of the inn? He sees exactly what had him so enthralled to begin with.
An equal. His equal.
He never had a parent to scold him about staring, so Roche keeps at it for a few moments longer as he reaches for the shot and raises it partway up — cheers — and further to his own lips. It smells strong enough to strip paint and compared to the rest of the swill being served it even has something of a bite that pulls a quiet snort from Roche. Not strong enough for his liking, but it's a start. ]
Has... anyone ever told you that you're a very hard man to find?
no subject
With a half-hearted tilt of the glass in an answering cheers, he brings it to his lips, swallows it down, and--immediately makes a face of disgust, staring at the glass in abject horror. The hell is this? He's never really been one to drink, other than a few orders at Seventh Heaven under the guise of sounding knowledgeable, and immediately, he slides the empty shot glass back onto the counter. ]
Melon? Lime? [ He's licking his lips and goes for a swig of beer, choking slightly on it at the words: you're a very hard man to find. ] ...Nope. Never heard that before.
[ He probably has. With a half-breath, a snort of amusement, he gives Roche a look. ]
I woke up in the field, too. Seems you were just a few weeks too late to catch me there. Are we doing another round?
no subject
[ Anyone else and it might've come off as foreboding but since it's Roche and this is Cloud he's speaking to? He's all grins and eagerness. A glimmer of the man who lurks beneath the SOLDIER, and he doesn't hesitate to wave down the bartender for another round. Make it two just to be safe. Thankfully it doesn't take long for the first set and with another motion, Roche knocks it back with a barely there grimace.
Alright, so that one was a little more potent. ]
Lime, I think. [ Wow. ] You know, ordinarily I'd be much more upset with you seeing as you've eluded me twice, but... Well, I finally found you, didn't I?
[ Even if it was completely by sheer dumb accidental luck. ]
What do I have to do to get the story out of you, hm? First I couldn't find nary a trace of your lovely face in the slums, then after fearing the worst I find out you broke into HQ and skipped town without so much as a "goodbye"? It's like you're trying to break my heart, Sunshine.
no subject
[ It at least sounds like amusement, past lips that are feeling a little numb: even as the mako in his body works at the liquor, it’s hard to get it all under control when he’s front-loading so much of it. Another round is set in front of them, and like it’s a challenge, he reaches for the shot glass, twisting it slightly between his fingertips before he throws it back.
Roche is right. That one tasted much more like lime. Lime and a hint of something else. His nose scrunches, trying to keep a straight face, but when he sets the glass down, another round is already there, like the bartender is just planning on keeping them coming regardless. ]
Story? [ He repeats it wryly, bemused, but the narrow of his gaze watches Roche with a playful lift of his brow. ] Sunshine?
[ Avoidant as ever, he picks up his beer glass, eyeing the liquid sloshing inside of it with a curious tilt of his head. There’s a lot he could tell him: but the story is long, and in his eyes, unimportant; what does it matter when they’re here? Maybe the liquor’s hitting a little more than he wants it to. ] Sunshine…What does that make you, then? I’m not doing the weird gooey nickname thing all by myself. Cupcake?
[ A gulp of beer as a chaser. ] Sugar. Sugar sounds good.
no subject
[ Though even despite the scandalized drawl in his voice, Roche truly feels and looks anything but. Hell, if anything it only emboldens him further and before he knows it he's got one cheek propped up against the back of his wrist and those deep glowing blues fixated on one man only. Bartender? Don't know him. Some local who had been eyeballing him for the last three hours? Don't care. He's already getting the attention he wants from the person he wants and he'll be damned if he lets it go anytime soon. ]
Don't make it sound like a curse, by the way. I find it incredibly fortuitous that fate saw fit to reunite us even if it is in some backwater village. I would've preferred it to be sooner, but the third time is the charm in my case.
[ It's probably charming but he's still incredibly reluctant to even think as much when the loss of his ride is still so fresh on his heart. Cloud being here may as well be the only balm he'll find for that particular wound, and for once in his life Roche is content with it. It's only a matter of time before he finds her so he may as well enjoy what he has while he can, especially before the booze leaves their systems.
He may never get the chance otherwise. ]
Though... going back to the gooey nicknames I'm sure I can come up with a better one myself if you find yourself against the appellation of Sunshine. I never did catch your name after all, so I'm working with what I've got in front of me. Angel, perhaps? Or... Hm, no. Stormcloud? It'd match that dour little frown I remember during our first meeting.
[ Spoilers: It's all three. He's using all three. ]
no subject
No, he doesn't get that far: because Roche says backwater village and it triggers something in his head, that voice he recognized but couldn't quite place; he hasn't seen Zack Fair in a few days now, but that's not entirely abnormal. Still--a little flicker of pain, a trigger of it at his temple, and he forces his gaze to the bar counter. Focusing on it helps brush that stubborn little reminder away. ]
Guess it's time for an introduction then, so I don't get called Angel. [ The way he hangs on the word surely shows his disgust with it--but he's not picking a fight. ] Stormcloud might be better. We can go with that.
[ Had that been what his mother had been thinking? With a soft breath, shaking his head a little, he palms up the next shot, taking it down before even giving Roche a warning to join him. The taste of it lingers on his lips as he licks them; they feel numb. ]
I'm bad at nicknames. [ With a darting glance at Roche. Testing. ] What would you pick for yourself?
no subject
It's probably the best damned thing he's gotten his hands on in awhile. Even that soft little sigh is music to his ears and when Roche finally looks back up he nearly looks conflicted. Maybe even a little lost. ]
Outside of the one I gave you when we first met? I haven't the faintest idea. Speed Demon is something I give out to everyone, but I've never had a moniker for just friends. Or a particular friend in this case.
[ But just as quickly as that lost, confused look appears? It's gone and in its place is a crooked grin that comes with the added bonus of a short-and-sweet elbow nudge to Cloud's arm. ]
Let's hear what you've got, hm? Though don't think you'll be getting out of telling me your real name just because I've settled on one for you myself. You know mine so it's only fair I get to know yours, and it'll make finding you that much easier should I lose track of you again.
no subject
There's a soft snort, almost like a laugh, as he finds his gaze trained on that empty shot glass. Little beads of green liquid still drip down the side, not completely drained; he should have licked the inside of it, just to be sure to get it all. ]
Coming up with nicknames isn't my specialty. [ Still, he's not saying no, now is he? ] What do you remind me of? Mm...
[ A half of a shrug, trying to seem cool. ] ... Hairbrush.
[ It's hard to tell if he's being serious; his lips twitch a little, and his gaze jerks up to watch Roche's expression. ] No. Hairband? That's a little cuter.
[ The longer he goes along with this, the longer he doesn't have to give his real name: not that he thinks it matters much. Roche will find it out one way or another in this place. ]
no subject
Y e p, this is one of those touchy feely types. Everyone calls Roche a menace but they've got no idea how deep that Wererat hole really goes. ]
Hairband? Mm... I'm not sold on that one.
[ Eventually Roche shifts in place and leans further onto the bar, twisting in a way to really give Cloud his full, undivided attention. If his eyes glow a little more intensely, it's... probably most definitely just because of the light. It took him ages to get used to seeing it in his own reflection, doubly so in the dark. It's no wonder SOLDIERs had a bit of a spooky reputation to people who barely knew anything about them.
At least the look he wears is pure admiration, and who could blame Roche? He sure ain't blaming himself! ]
If nicknames truly aren't your specialty, then... Perhaps you'd be more comfortable using my name until you find the key for the ignition? I certainly wouldn't be against hearing it.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[ It's an honest, earnest question and Roche's expression softens for a moment. His attention remains focused on Cloud's face for another ten or fifteen seconds, then he tilts his head up towards the ceiling and closes his eyes. Sitting idle never has been his strong suit even in his childhood but as that night in the tunnels proved, there was merit to it. Patience always won out in the end and this was no different.
No matter how badly he wants to cajole the man who'd stoked the fires of his heart into something wild, he has enough self awareness to know he ought to take things... dare he say, slow. There was no high-speed race, nor did he have to put on a show for PubSec.
There was an opportunity here and Roche would be damned if he squandered it. ]
Unless—
[ One eye opens and he places a hand over his heart, a feigned you wound me expression flitting across his face. ]
—you've forgotten it, perhaps?
no subject
His mother taught him manners. Sort of. ]
How could I forget something so important? [ There's a slight drawl to his voice, as if he's teasing, but there's some truth to it as well. ] Your name is...
[ One eye squints at him, as if he's trying to remember--and then he gives it up, expression relaxing back down into its usual stoicism. ]
Roche. Don't worry. I don't forget things like that, just everything else.
[ The bartender returns with two fresh glasses of beer: Cloud nudges one towards Roche in invitation, picking up his own to take a soft slurp from the top. Maybe his mother didn't teach him any manners after all. ]