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

[Her breath doesn't quite catch, but her heart does leap into her throat as he leans in. Orpheus hasn't been part of her soul for a long time, but there's still an echo of her, more imagined than anything else that almost seems to connect for just the briefest of moments. Her expression slowly fades to something more neutral, less affected, as she keeps her eyes on his.]

I'd like you to answer anyway. [She tilts her head up, closer to his, and then lets her eyes slide toward the stairs with the motion.] Upstairs?

[Away from prying eyes and ears.]

[He'd never quite understood the wildcard power. Personas in general were a bit more straightforward-- the manifestation of one's spirit of rebellion, in his case. Arsène was very much that. The rest of them..., he felt a bit like a kid collecting baseball cards with.]

[Pockymon, his brain supplied on a delay. They'd be Pockymon cards. Funny little dudes, with different elements and abilities, and he was collecting them to have a deck to fight against... Well, maybe not, because nobody else played or had a whole deck. His eyes focused on Kotone again.]

[Unless...?]

[His eyes follow hers toward the stairs.] ...PubSec has a whole file on me, I don't really mind to talk out here, but... [He shifts, an odd amount of grace to his movements suddenly, and pulls her to his side as he pivots, walking toward the stairs.] Upstairs is fine.

[That's what the reaction is. Messiah had been created from Thanatos and Orpheus, the ultimate Persona that represented her and what had been SEES, what became the Nyx Annihilation Team. Judgement, born from Death and the Fool.

But it had been Orpheus. The Fool. She'd never met anyone else with the Fool arcana, if that's what it is. Maybe she's imagining all of it; Shadows could be literally anything. They don't have to be what she's familiar with. Maybe she's making a mistake. But she can't let this chance at information just go. She almost turns to see if she can spot Shinji but -- no. It could be nothing. No reason to wrap him up in this.]

Your room. [Her smile returns to her face, though it still doesn't quite reach her eyes still.] It's only fair after you got to see mine, after all.

[He rumbles in a quiet chuckle, and the sudden catlike grace persists as he guides them to the stairs.] You'll have to forgive that it's wildly uninteresting. [He keeps his arm around her shoulders, but it's loose-- it's not a commandeering hold, just a friendly one. It's also possibly to keep him steady because the adrenaline of Maybe Meeting Another Wildcard is pumping Joker's confidence into his veins and making him significantly more alert, but he's still stupidly inebriated.]

I'm not interested in your room.

[She quirks her eyebrows at him as she glances back, but keeps moving without hesitation up the stairs. She knows which room is his -- she'd gotten him the key, after all -- and had spent enough time there previously to lead the way, in manner if not literally.

She does at least wait for him to unlock it instead of testing to see if he'd left it unlocked. All the while, she's watching his behavior, the odd confidence and -- is it excitement? -- in his bearing keeping her attention completely.]

[He does unlock the door, because he may be the Fool, but he's not generally stupid. He opens the door and gestures for her to head in first, bending just slightly at the waist and making the sweeping motion of his arm a bit grander than it needs to be.]

[It's pointedly reminiscent of Igor.]

So, you're familiar with Shadows.

You first.

[It doesn't remind her of Igor, not really -- with an ache in her heart, it reminds her of Theo, his sweeping, gentlemanly behavior. Normally, she might wait to be told where to sit. This time, she moves forward and sits on the edge of his bed, crossing her legs and propping herself up on her arms. It's not strictly intended as a power move, but more to impress her seriousness upon him. If they're going to get anywhere, he has to start.]

[He was quiet and subdued, generally, even if the alcohol had made him silly. But this was something different altogether-- he could feel the sharpness of the grin that pulled his lips wide from his teeth.]

I'm the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Didn't I tell you part of that already? [He knows that's not what she's asking, not really. The inclination to be coy outweighed his interest in supplying her something more direct.]

[Is she supposed to be impressed? It sounds like a middle-schooler's make-believe -- then again, SEES isn't much better, when it's broken apart into its actual English words. Her crossed foot bounces once, twice, as she waits for him to elaborate -- which he doesn't. Oh, okay, so he's playing coy?]

And I was the leader of a group called SEES. What does a Phantom Thief have to do with Shadows?

[Saying she's the leader of-- whatever a SEES is --makes his heartbeat rattle in his chest like a hummingbird. He's giddy.]

Shadows represent the twisted desires of people. We defeat them, and steal their hearts. We get fun costumes and use code names, not that it really matters since we're... known, in a way. Do you use the gun in the Metaverse?

[He's the same.

They fight Shadows, and... use code names and weird costumes, okay, sure, whatever, she isn't sure if she's supposed to be jealous or not without seeing what the costumes are, but -- she almost feels dizzy at the realization, tempered only slightly by the knowledge that Strega had Personas, too. More than anything, he doesn't strike her as being like Strega. Call it a hunch, but she doesn't think Kurusu is a bad person. It's not the sense she gets from Messiah, deep inside her heart. It's the sense that she can trust him. She wants to trust him.]

I've never heard of the Metaverse, [she admits finally, some of the tension in her shoulders easing as she makes a conscious choice to trust him.] I'd use it during the Dark Hour. It's not a gun; it's a summoning tool called an Evoker.

[She raises two fingers to her temple, miming the use of a gun. He gets it, right?]

[His eyes trail to her thigh, and surprisingly, it's not a thirsty teenage boy thing. He's just looking at the Evoker, strapped there, and then back to her gesture. She has to shoot herself in the head to summon...?]

Whoa, metal. We just rip off our faces. [A beat, and his eyebrows crease together.] ...that sounds worse, actually! Goes with the Phantom Thief thing-- [He swipes his hand in front of his eyes.] Masks.

[She can't help it -- she laughs when he calls it "metal." She'd been expecting horror, revulsion, disgust, but no. He thinks it's cool. All at once, it's like she's remembered how to smile again.]

Masks, huh...? [And she finally puts the name to the thing they'd been dancing around, watching his face.] Literally a Persona?

[Capital-P Persona. It's the literal translation, sure, but if he knows, he knows.]

[He stands up a little straighter, grinning with all of his teeth again. It makes him look younger, without his glasses. He nods, making an affirmative hum of sound, letting his shoulders bunch up a little near his ears. He shifts, then, sliding his (sheathed) dagger out from-- actually, where the fuck was he hiding that?? --and crosses the room, glancing at the space next to her before dropping to sit on the floor near her feet.]

I used a dagger, in-- I don't know if they're the same with different names, but. The other world. It looked kind of like this one. [He turns it so the handle is toward her. It's an implicit display of trust.]

[She takes the dagger in one hand and hefts it, gazing at it in a new light. She doesn't try flipping it around or moving it from hand to hand, not like when he'd first showed it to her -- she doesn't want to risk dropping it on him -- but she doesn't miss the implicit gesture of trust. Maybe under all that confidence, he'd been scared, too?

She taps his shoulder lightly with her foot, offering the hilt of the dagger back to him. She's not willing to just hand over her Evoker in exchange, but she appreciates the gesture for what it was.]

I didn't think there were other Persona-users here. [Her hand falls to her heart, clutching it softly. Messiah might be the Judgement arcana, but mentally, she brings him to the forefront of her mind.] Who's yours?

[Akira isn't sure he remembers what fear feels like, he's been covering it up with bravado and confidence shaped like a domino mask for so long.]

[He's sat on the floor with the world's worst posture, hunched over like a shrimp, but his head is angled up to smile at her in a startlingly adoring way. He takes the dagger back and spins it easily between his fingers, sliding it back into the sheath without looking at it.]

[He's still drunk, but it's literally an extension of his fucking hand, even actually forged and not a toy made cognitively impressive.]

Arsène, like Arsène Lupin, inherently. I kinda... collect them? But that's a weird me thing. [He reaches up and twists the centermost lock of his curls between his thumb and forefinger, suddenly self-conscious, and focuses on the hair rather than looking at Kotone.]

[Now that brings another jolt of surprise to her face, dropping her jaw slightly as she stares at him. It's not that she thinks it's weird, but--]

You have more than one? [At once? Her friends had been able to reawaken their Personas into more powerful forms, but that's not collecting them.

Impulsively, she shifts off the bed to sit next to him, wanting to be closer to his level.] You can switch between them?

[A startled, embarrassed flush creeps up his neck, and he twists his hair a little more.]

Oh-- yeah. Uh. Kinda like a rolodex of brain-demons.

Did you meet Igor? No, wait-- did you meet Theo?

[She presses closer, eyes wide and maybe a little -- she doesn't know. Anxious, maybe? Not about Igor; the cryptic, long-nosed man had given her advice and helped with fusion, but Theo was the one who'd really helped her. Given her tasks, asked for her help, asked her to take him around the city, wanted to get to know her as a person, not just a contract.]

[His eyebrows raise, and he taps the end of his nose, extending his finger out about six inches.] I am thou, thou art I, and my nose is as long as a city block. Didn't know a Theo, though.

[...You know, there's a part of her that's kind of selfishly glad that Kurusu didn't meet Theo. Theo was her attendant. Her friend.

But she just giggles at his description and nods, draping her arms comfortably over her knee and leaning in to press against his shoulder.]

I thought I was the only one. Who... "collected" Personas, I mean. Who met Igor in the Velvet Room. None of my friends knew what I was talking about when I tried to tell them about the door.

[He doesn't know what to make of it.]

[He's never felt misunderstood by the Thieves, exactly-- sure, they didn't see glowing blue doors and didn't take a pair of twin ten year old girls around Tokyo only for them to merge into one slightly older girl later on. They all had one solid, resolute depiction of their rebellion. Arsène was his tried and true, the first and foremost, but he still felt strangely fractured just picking them up almost willy-nilly. Like he didn't quite have enough of a solid depiction of himself, so he had to fill in the gaps with other things.]

[Kotone got it, though. And for a minute, that suffocates him, and the world closes in on him just a little bit, and he has to close his eyes to not look harrowed.] Mine would just say I was standing around looking spaced out.

Yeah, same here.

[It's so strange. She'd thought she was special, unique and different. The only one who'd had that experience, the only one who could understand. She'd asked Dazai once if he'd thought that was wrong of her, to be able to change her face, change her "true self" whenever she wanted.

She glances up at him and gives him another smile, reaching to gently pat his knee at that look of his. Maybe it was the same for him, maybe it wasn't. But either way, it's nice not to be alone, she decides.]

Theo was my... he called himself my attendant. He called me his "honored guest." [Her voice reflects a little of her amusement at that, tinged with a nostalgic bittersweetness.] He was my friend, though. Igor did all of the fusions, but Theo cared about me.

[The laugh that leaves him is sharp, because it's sudden and breaks its way out of him in the same way it breaks through his brief melancholic brooding, and he lays his hand over hers.]

Mine started out as a pair of vicious twins who liked to smack me with police batons and kick me into the Velvet Room. Justine and Caroline. They later merged into Lavenza. ...that part's kind of a long story.

[She can't help but laugh a little herself, more in disbelief than any real amusement. Theo would never. If a pair of twins with police batons had tried to kick her in, she probably just wouldn't go at all. Or try to walk in before they could hit her, one of the two.]

Theo could tell me the exact temperature of anything around us. He was really proud of that.

[She misses him, plain and simple. She knows she'll never see him again -- her contract with him is over, he'd intimated as much during their last meeting together in her room, but... she can still miss him. A little huff of a sigh escapes through her nose as her fingertips lightly tighten against his knee.]

Was it hard...? Being a leader?

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