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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[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.

Yeeeeeah, I got that impression pretty early on.

[As it's highly unlikely that Balthier constantly looks so ridiculously put out. Of course, considering the situation hasn't exactly been favourable, it's a little hard to hold that against him. Not everyone, after all, can be the font of optimism that she is. She suspects were he even to attempt emulating her in such a manner, it would be quite the piss poor impression.

His complaint, which is how she chooses to interpret it, leaves her smiling. Knowingly, at that. As if she very deliberately finds some joy in getting beneath his skin. (Because she does.) Aerith looks proud that she can coerce such a reaction out of him.]

I definitely must. [She grins from ear-to-ear.] It's a shame you're not warming up to it more. Guess I just need to do it on a routine basis. Gotta get you used to it.

[Every complaint only digs the hole deeper, he knows, and yet he cannot help but voice his dissent. He sighs heavily, shaking his head in a way that makes his earrings jangle slightly.]

I suppose I'll have no choice but to become accustomed to it.

[He could strike some sort of bargain with her if he really wished to do away with it, but perhaps it's not so bad.

... no, it absolutely is, but some concessions must be made, it would seem.]

It's dreadful, nonetheless, but it does seem to bring you such joy.

[That— brings a smile to his face, he has to admit, almost reflexively, without giving it any thought.]

I wasn't really planning on giving you another choice, so you're right.

[And she doesn't look the slightest bit ashamed of it either. Not that he'll likely find that terribly surprising. The more surprising part is that he seems very willing to play along. She's not anticipated that her ability to charm others would actually work on him. He seems much more charming, after all.]

Not sure what to tell you. I'm pretty easy to satisfy.

[But that smile of his... She isn't sure what it is, but just seeing him smile, she wants to smile, too. Is it because it's infectious? Is it because it's a handsome sight? Maybe a bit of both. Aerith doesn't bother hiding those moments of open admiration before she has the sense to continue.]

So since you're going out of your way to make me happy, maybe you should tell me about a thing or two that makes you happy.

( continued here )

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

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