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

01. Prettying Up the Inn

[At this point, it seems like Aerith never knows when to leave something well enough alone. It's possible if she wasn't living right in the area of the inn commotion, that these shenanigans might have simply gone past her notice for the most part. It's like another loud night in Wall Market, when she's stepping back to look at it.

Considering everything that's been going on, it's nice to see people having the opportunity to be happy. The situation isn't exactly favourable and yet, it could still be so much worse. Has she been saying that for the benefit of others, or for her own? Perhaps a collection of both.

On the fated eve of the inn's mingle to meet new faces and connect with old ones, it didn't take Aerith very long to volunteer herself as 'tavern wench,' or whatever the Aldrippers are calling it. There's bound to be plenty of people and they could use the help. So when she stops by a table and loudly plops down a mug of... whatever it might be, she's all grins.]

This one's yours, right? That's what they told me back at the bar.

[She's doing great at this.]

02. Let's Rally Together

[The last thing she should be doing is probably encouraging people to be more rambunctious, but one only lives once, right? Well, in her case, that might not necessarily be accurate. Or Ethlyn's. Or anyone else's who possibly passed on where they come from.

There's always exceptions!]

You're almost there! Keep it up! Did you hear if you finish it, they'll give you another on the house?

[She sure is very loudly cheering this on. Whether it's food or drink in question, she's happy to lend some annoyingly chipper encouragement. Or she's just encouraging bad behaviour.]

03. Where the Wildcards Grow

[Everything and anything else goes in here. PM or ping me on discord for stuffs and things.]

[ The whole point of this party (besides just to be a menace and for fun, because who doesn't like fun at probably-inappropriate times) was to gather intel. That means getting people talking courtesy some alcohol-aided loose lips, but also gathering them in one place so he could scope out who's really here. He did a drive-by past those statues, but like, those could be anyone, really... they're no Michelangelos or anything, after all. The first hour or two hadn't turned up anything too interesting, but he finally gets a hit when somebody decides to play waitress and walks right past him.

One really has to wonder how he managed to miss her, considering it was his whole entire job some days of the week to stalk her from place to place and pester her face-to-face for years, but listen, it's kinda, uh, been awhile. And it's not like he was expecting—y'know. Dead people.

But there she goes, sweeping by to deliver a drink, and Reno gapes from his seat, turning to watch her go, watch her lean down and drop that mug down, and say something he doesn't quite catch all of. Just yours, right? and even though he is absolutely bam-fucking-boozled to see her at all, it just kind of... tracks that she'd basically guess at whose drink it's supposed to be and too bad if you don't like it. His chest tightens.

He shakes it off.

And then he gets up and zips right in-between Aerith and the patron whose drink she just delivered, jamming his arm past them both to snatch the mug off the table and pull it back with a big shit-eating grin. ]

Actually, that was for me. Shouldn't believe everything everyone tells you, y'know!

[ Just act natural. (What even is natural here?! Fuck—) This has to be some kind of trick, right? He'll know it in a second here. ]

They paying you for this gig? They better be, else we're gonna have words.

[She would know the hair anywhere. It's not every day that you cross paths with someone who's so animated and expressive. Reno is a chocobo of another colour, for sure, and like most of the Turks, she's never really been one hundred percent certain what to make of him. Come to think of it, if it weren't for the idea that they were (presumably) watching her every move and had been for years by this point, she might almost liken them to friends.

Frenemies? It's a thought for another time, another Aerith, one who is not caught up in delivering drink and food orders when she likely has no business to be doing either. Reno pops right up, smoothly interjecting, and whatever surprise flutters across her expression is short-lived before she wears a small smile, halfway bordering on mirth and amusement.]

They don't have to pay me for this. [If anything, she almost feels like Aldrip is owed this. They could all be in cells, eating nothing except water and stale bread. Or whatever it is people in cells get fed.] How long have you been here? I would have seen you sooner.

[Heard. She would have heard him sooner.]

[ Not a trick, then. It's not like he can possibly be so tanked that he'd dream this up in some beer-addled hallucination or something, far from it. And clearly he hasn't just mistaken her for someone else. Reno's got a damn good poker face, especially when he's making a concentrated effort to use it, but there's nothing he can do about the flicker of uncertainty that flashes across his face, the brief glaze of disbelief in his eyes as Aerith turns toward him and speaks. Recognizes him. Smiles.

Ah, yeah. That's definitely An Emotion he's experiencing. Been awhile since he had one of those. Easy to confuse with nausea. Maybe he should lay off the beer. It's pretty gross beer anyway. Pointedly, Reno doesn't actually drink that drink he stole, even after the traces of just saw a ghost vacate his expression again. ]

Couple days. Lying low, y'know. Anyway—what's the going rate, again? One gil? Or is it still ten million-billion-trillion gil for me?

[ He's got a gil handy. He fishes it out, even if it's worth dirt here and dangles it between them. Anything to help him grapple with what he's feeling right this second. ]

Here, and don't ever say I don't ever do anything for you. If they won't pay you, somebody's gotta.

[Lying low. If he wasn't so good at that, she might call his bluff, but the fact of the matter is that Reno is good at his job. Others might think him a bit too animated, but one doesn't just waltz into an office and say they want to be a member of the Turks.]

Welllll, I very much doubt you have ten million-billion-trillion gil...

[Unless...? No. Highly unlikely. He offers up the gil he has, which is a refreshingly nice thing to see. It's not like she arrived with any, after all. But to be fair, she arrived with... pretty much nothing except what she was wearing. She lifts a hand to take it, but then with a smile, she refrains.]

This isn't going to do you any good here. They don't take gil. Here—I'll show you. [Leaning back a touch, she dusts her hands over herself as if she's trying to remember where she's put her slowly-growing stash of new world coin. She withdraws one, the strange shape it is, like a chunk of it is missing, with the wave emblem on the metal.]

See? But even if you don't have any, the locals are pretty willing to do trades and stuff. I haven't had to really pay for much of anything since I arrived.

Aerith Gainsborough | FFVIIR

1, but with an I Do What I Want twist

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