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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He certainly had taken something— a fair amount of something, at that— but it's nothing he intends to return, and not an argument he wishes to have with her a second time, knowing her stance on such things. He stands by his actions as well as his reasonings, which had been far more sound than his usual reasons for such things— 'because he wanted to' was usually reason enough, but the situation here was something different.

Instead, he shakes his head a second time, steepling his fingers as he leans forward against the table, then immediately decides better of it, restless, and reaches to pull the phone he's been toting about from within the pouch at his belt. He hasn't had much use for it since his arrival, and can't imagine he had much use for it before— certainly not that he can remember— but right now, it's the best place to start.

He sets it down on the table between them, leveling his gaze at her.]

Do you know what this is?

[Best to start with that. Back in Ivalice, he certainly hadn't.]

[Her eyebrows remain raised as he sets down his phone and leaves it between them. She doesn’t really understand why he’s asking her. Do they not have such things back in Ivalice? Maybe not. It’s not like she’s really asked and she can’t exactly say that she’s pried excessively.

After a moment’s consideration, she can feel a similar flutter of… recognition? Is that it? Something like that. It’s the same feeling she’s had multiple times since her arrival. Meeting him. Her hairpieces. Viewing the sky. The conversation in Rumpitur. Seeing and meeting Fran for the first time. This moment.]

Uhm. It’s a phone?

[Is that the answer he wants.]

I don’t know if they don’t have those in Ivalice, but we have them back in Midgar. I usually have one too, but mine was taken before I arrived here. It looks similar to one I’ve seen before, but I don’t know if that’s because it’s standard or something else. Maybe our worlds are more related than I thought?

[His expression doesn't shift much at her response, but he gives a small nod of confirmation. That certainly makes things simpler, at least as far as explanation goes. The situation itself remains anything but— but he appreciates that he doesn't have to try to explain a device he only half-understands himself.]

You're already familiar, then. Good— I wasn't, or I shouldn't be. We don't have anything like this in Ivalice, in fact— communication radios, certainly, but nothing this intricate has been developed yet.

[It's only a matter of time, he imagines, but even Draklor's finest minds had a long way to go before they came up with something like this.]

The thing is, I arrived here with this on my person, and some vague understanding of how to use it, besides.

[He gives her a pointed look, as though he feels the meaning of that should be clear, regardless of whether or not it actually is.]

Oh.

[No wonder he's so perplexed by it. Ivalice doesn't have phones by default, which renders her original thought moot, it seems. Their worlds aren't connected. Probably. Just because one world has phones and so does another one, after all, doesn't make them interconnected in any way or shape.

As he continues, it adds onto the preexisting phenomena for them both. Memories they have, but shouldn't possess. Knowledge of certain things they probably shouldn't have either.]

So... it was like... I don't know. A free gift? That you evidently know how to use. Which is weird. Has it been helpful at all? Probably not. Most of the people here who've had phones that I'm aware of were telling me that they weren't really working properly. Either way, I guess it's pretty strange for you to know how to use something you shouldn't know how to use. But you seem kind of distressed about it?

Not terribly helpful, no— in fact, I hadn't thought much of it beyond the strangeness of its existence until recently.

[Distressed... isn't an inaccurate way to put it, he decides. He thinks back to his conversation with Rin, what the two of them had hypothesized his carrying this device might mean. He'd done some more prodding since then, and a few more partial memories had surfaced over time, as well— nothing terribly revealing, but enough to confirm that his guess at having been somewhere else between here and Ivalice was likely correct.]

Bits and pieces of things are beginning to add up. This, memories that seem just out of reach— I'm almost certain now that this isn't the first time I've been pulled away from Ivalice.

[There's more to what he'd like to tell her, but one step at a time.]

Hm... So you think you've been to other worlds then.

[If it wasn't for some of the people she's met in this world already, she might think that sounds even stranger, but evidently some people have experienced other worlds. Just because she hasn't experienced it doesn't mean it's not possible. Although she doesn't know that for sure either. She can remember looking up at the sky and thinking it wasn't the first time she had.

Sometimes she can remember other things. A flower shop? But how much of that is her own desire to have one? The same desire she's had for years, mixed with the desire to fill Midgar with flowers. Zack would likely tell her that's just the Aerith he's always known and it'd be accurate.]

It sounds like you're trying to tell me that maybe this phone has something to do with places you've been to before. [As she thinks on it a moment more, she reaches over for the phone he's put down, evidently with the intent to unlock it (if it even has that) and nosily go through the contents.] Did you find anything on this? Maybe there's something from your adventures?

'Other worlds.'

[He lets out a mirthless little chuckle as he echoes her, shaking his head— but only because of how it sounds. She is, of course, exactly right.]

I've said it before myself, and it still sounds outlandish. Under different circumstances, I would find visiting another world to be quite thrilling— a sky pirate's dream, to have somewhere entirely new to explore and seek the very ends of.

[This situation is not that, and as she reaches for the phone, he does the same, placing his hand over it before she can take it from him in full.]

But... as a matter of fact, I did find something. When I finally took the time to look into what this device can access here, I found something quite interesting.

[His expression remains somber as he pulls the phone back towards himself just long enough to bring up a photo: one of her, cheerfully arranging flowers behind the counter of what looks to be a shop. He watches her face carefully as he nudges it back towards her, hoping to gauge her reaction.]

[Outlandish is certainly one way of putting it. She's trying to keep an open mind, but she can imagine how it would sound if he said it to anyone else. Kind of. Other people have travelled to different places, after all. Not her, of course, but other people.

When he reclaims his phone, she offers it without much hesitance. It's his, after all, and Aerith, nosy as she might be, does know better than to start snagging things that aren't hers.]

When one takes into consideration the sky pirate thing, travel doesn't sound like the most impossible thing. [Not remembering it, however, is a different idea entirely. When he continues, she looks intent, if not curious. He pushes his phone back over to her and it only takes a moment to eye it to put it in recognition.

It's her.
Flowers.
A counter.

Something that all looks and feels that little pang of familiarity she's attempted to push down when it arises. But it's his phone. There's no reason she'd have a picture of herself like that.]

...It's really your phone?

[She asks somewhat quietly, because there are implications there if that's true.]

Could be a really impressive trick. It's true that I worked with flowers since arriving here, but Mizuki was with me that day. And the counter tops look different.

It certainly seems to be. It's been on my person since I arrived.

[His own voice has quieted, as well; the air between them hangs heavy, and once more, he knows this will likely lead to more questions than answers— but if this device is truly his, then it seems clear enough that they had met before coming to this place, or at least sometime before all those partially-formed memories.

Of course, it's more than that. There are other photos that suggest they knew each other quite well— the sort he's not about to spring on her here without warning, if he ever shows her at all, but even now, he cannot forget what he'd stumbled across, or what it strongly implied.]

This is no place you recognize, then?

[That part doesn't surprise him.]

It could be a trick— some sort of manipulation. Still... I have reason to believe we have met before.

Well, it's not...

[Aerith isn't sure she has the words for it. She's not inclined to give his phone back to him. Instead, she leans back a little to really scrutinise the photo. It could be fake. She doubts it, though. What would be the point? Why trickery? There are no shortage of things that have happened in this world, but this kind doesn't seem to sync up with their other experiences so far.

"...I have reason to believe we have met before."

That is what the picture implies.]

I don't think it's a trick. I don't know why it would be. Doesn't make sense for it to be. I guess what I don't understand is why you have this.

[Gently she taps the screen of his phone.]

I get the same feeling I've had a few times since arriving here. Feeling like I ought to know something and not really being sure of it. Hard for me to argue with proof when I'm looking at it.

I can't say I understand why, either.

[Except the implications made by the other photos he'd found make that quite clear— only with no memory of the events surrounding them, it remains a puzzle. He has never been the sort of man to open himself up to others; beyond acquaintances, he has gone to great lengths to keep his friends few and anything more than that, even fewer. Of course, he can't say all of that now— it's neither the time nor the place, even if it were something he felt inclined to share.

Even so, another piece of the puzzle has made itself known. He can't decide if he feels he's better or worse off than he was before, truth be told.

He can, however, relate to the feeling Aerith refers to, and he gives a reserved nod as she explains it.]

I've felt the same on more than one occasion. A bit like what we talked about in Rumpitur, with the missing memories. Feeling like certain things are significant, but unable to explain how.

[Leaning forward again, she settles her weight against her forearms, carefully cradling his phone in her hold. She remembers Rumpitur being similar. Not just their conversation either. When she starts counting the number of times Balthier has been the catalyst for something she deems remotely familiar, it's startling. Hosting a picture of her on his phone really only solidifies that more.

They know each other from somewhere. Sometime. But where and when? How? Why? A plethora of questions that she just doesn't have the answers to. Maybe that she might even be afraid of hearing, though she isn't sure what to expect.]

I said before that maybe we'd eventually figure it out. Or that we'd remember in time. How long did you know about this picture? Why didn't you say something sooner?

[Maybe he was trying to figure out how to say it. Maybe he thought she'd think he was nuts.]

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.]

[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.

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.]

How do you know that? It's not like you remember. Although I guess you would only steal things of value, so that probably makes sense. I also can't imagine it's on tier with noble items. You're probably right.

[Taking a moment to carefully cradle it in her hand, her thoughts turn with similar possibilities. If he didn't steal it, it means he either found it or she gave it to him. If he found it, there would have been no reason for him to hold onto it. It would have likely passed his notice based on how plain it was. But if she gave it to him...

Well. Aerith is no stranger to giving things to others. That is just the way she is. But to give something of hers, much the way she gave one of her very pretty hairpieces to Mizuki, is rather telling. If she gave him something of hers, it was likely done with intention.

Just who was he to her? A 'thank you,' perhaps.]

Hm... Well. I shouldn't take it from you. Seems like you have it for a reason. Maybe if you hold onto it, you'll figure out what that reason is.

[She offers it back over to him, extending her hand and holding it palm up for him to reclaim. If that's what he wants. In the face of such a discovery, it wouldn't be completely weird for him to reject such an offer.]

Some things you just know.

[He doesn't feel he needs to explain it any further than that— certainly she's experienced something similar, whether it was here or elsewhere. There's plenty of reasoning to be done that amounts to the same thing, of course— he can't imagine any reason he would have stolen such a thing— but all of that aside, he trusts his instincts on this matter. He doesn't trust easily, but he does trust his intuition.

His gaze lingers on the necklace for a few moments, and though he is often quite deft at veiling his emotions, he struggles to do so now. He shifts in his seat, discomfort plain on his face as he lightly drums his fingers against the table, his lips pulling into a frown.

He really should give it back to her, and yet despite having no clear memories of how it came to be in his possession, he feels it would be a loss. That, in itself, is reason for discomfort.]

Don't you want it back?

[He lifts his gaze to study her face once more without reaching for the necklace. How much more does he tell her?]

Whether these discoveries are the truth or somehow fabricated, I'm inclined to believe that we knew each other quite well— or someone would like us to think so.

[It's getting quite difficult to convince himself that it's the latter, however.]

[Intuition, is what she suspects he means. She gets that, too. Her circumstances are unique in that she may sometimes know information that otherwise she shouldn't have. In a way, the fluttering memories or what she thinks must be memories, are something very similar. Recognition in faces, in names, in conversations, in exchanges... Theoretically, those are things she shouldn't experience in this place. Why she does is up for any number of intriguing theories. It's not so different from intuition.

Which is precisely why she doesn't retract her offer. Intuition tells her that he had it for a reason, even if she doesn't yet know what that reason is. Aerith might be the kind to give something without ulterior motive, and she imagines she did the same when it came to him, but she tends to act with purpose.]

I'm getting the feeling I gave it to you. Just because I don't remember why doesn't mean I should take it back. I know what kind of person I am. If I gave it to you, I did it intentionally. Maybe in time, I'll figure out what that reason was for. I think it should stay with you.

[After a moment's consideration, she provides him an easy smile.]

But if you don't want it anymore, I'll keep it.

[He dislikes the fact that despite her offer and explanation, despite his own intuition telling him that this seemingly insignificant strap of leather is, indeed, anything but, there is some part of him that feels it would be something akin to showing weakness to agree to keep it, as if somehow doing so would be some great threat to him personally.

He studies the item in her hand for a few moments longer, glancing up just long enough to catch that smile of hers, and a muscle in his jaw tics as he clenches it before reaching out to take the necklace back, closing his fingers around it, letting them linger against the palm of her hand for, perhaps, half a breath too long.]

I'll keep it.

[Rather than shoving it back into his pouch, he tucks it into his vest for safekeeping, hidden from sight.]

It may turn out to be a helpful clue yet.

[There is something about his voice in that moment that rings hollow, however— despite his efforts, there is a wrinkle in the otherwise silky tenor, because the why is not as much of a mystery to him as he would like to pretend.]

Evidence, perhaps, that despite my thieving ways, you might have chosen to count a pirate among your friends.

[To many and even to herself, it may just be a touch. Yet she has to wonder how many times that too, has occurred between them. She has never been shy about being close to others. Hugging. Comforting. Nurturing. That is just the way she is. She is a woman who loves all too freely, all too easily, with a degree of care that easily could go unrivalled.

He agrees to keep it and she looks pleased. It would be a shame to take it back, she thinks, burning with a memory she hasn't quite figured out just yet.]

Well, I already considered you a friend here, so I don't feel like that's much of a stretch, Balthie.

[Leaning onto an elbow, she poises her chin in the palm of her hand.]

Just because I'm scolding you for doing something I don't agree with doesn't mean you're not my friend. Friends don't have to agree. They just have to try to understand one another. You might not be very good at that, but you're getting there. I'm willing to bet you probably make some exceptions for people you really care about.

[Her response to what had been his best attempt at managing a self-deprecating sort of remark does earn a crooked smile from him in turn, just enough to ease a bit of the tension that's been mounting within him for days now, if only for a moment.

He does give a bit of a twitch at her form of address, however.]

You'll forgive me for not being certain. Pirates don't often make a habit of keeping many friends around.

[That, he knows, has little to do with his profession and everything to do with him, but there's no need to unpack all of that just now.]

I'm quite selective, you know.

[She may well have hit the nail square on the head with that last bit, though he can't say he's comfortable admitting as much.]

Now, must you with that awful nickname? I was hoping you'd tire of it.

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

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