chestnuts roasting over an open fire...

[feintofhart]

Who: YOU!!!
Where: Claude's Apothecary (also known as: his house)
What: Claude and Ethlyn decide to host a Christmas party -- they may not be familiar with Christmas, but when in Rome! There will be drinking, dancing, and much revelry, and it's open underneath the guise of a combo grand opening, meaning that it's free for all and sundry to attend!
Warnings: Probably some underage drinking Claude will make no effort to curb, but that's about it.





Welcome, one and all to the Apothecary's grand opening celebration -- which just so happens to coincide with winter festivities! Despite the fact that neither Claude nor Ethlyn have any familiarity with Christmas whatsoever, they've decided to put together a party anyway, and what a party it is! At the front of the room, Claude and Root have put together an assortment of festive outfits for people to wear: all manner of ridiculous Christmas sweaters from Root, and from Claude, an assortment of reindeer horns and Santa hats if you choose to get as decked out as he is.

Inside, all breakables and valuables have been safely tucked away and have been replaced by all manner of decorations: glittering lights, bristly boughs, a Christmas tree and, of course, an assortment of mistletoe hanging over everyone's heads, ready to ensnare an unlikely couple or two in a requisite smooch. The entire place is, in fact, absolutely covered in festive greenery, courtesy of Kurama -- a little overkill, maybe, but they can't help themselves. Even if you duck past the mistletoe, it may have a way of finding you anyway; Kurama has a mischievous streak, and the ability to grow unlimited amounts of mistletoe to dog your steps.

Every surface seems absolutely covered in anything you might want from a feast, from unctious meats still dripping in their own fats to enormous platters of roasted vegetables and freshly prepared rolls and flatbreads to trays filled with biscuits and pies glittering with sugar. Also available for everyone's consumption - and Claude's not checking IDs as long as the kids aren't being too foolhardy - is a seemingly endless supply of libations, from steaming jugs of mulled wine to mugs filled with buttered rum to an open container of punch ready for the spiking. In the background are a few local musicians that Claude hired to play for them, though the stage is set for any tipsy guests to try their hand at entertaining the crowd.

On a table at the back are wrapped presents that are ready for the taking for anyone who wins at an assortment of games - with anything inside ranging from the Apothecary's own wares of teas and tinctures to pantry items from local vendors to a cute cuddly stuffed animal or two - if you choose to partake. Games of Questions and Commands (essentially Truth or Dare), Flapdragon (a game in which you must drain your glass to see what prize you win at the bottom) to card and board games are available for people to compete at. Everyone loves a good parlor game. Or, for those with a bolder constitution, Snapdragon is available outside, in which people set shallow dishes of brandy and dried fruits out, set it aflame, and ask people to go bobbing for the fruit at deadly risk of losing their lashes and brows. Spectating the whole scene is Claude's wyvern, who guests are welcome to go out and greet anytime they like.

Finally, for those more retiring in nature, and exclusively Claude's closest friends: he will allow some into his private quarters to have a little rest from all the fuss and noise. It's a good place for quiet conversation if you can hack it, or even to nap off the worst of the booze. For anyone else who wants some peace and quiet, you'll have to settle for the employee break room, a modestly undecorated place with a supply of caffeinated beverages and flat surfaces to rest upon.

Feel free to make up your own prompts and just use this as a fun holiday space for gift exchanges and drunken festivities! Happy holidays, Expiation!

Comments

[computation]

[ Root bats her eyelashes at him. She's never one cared what other people thought of her in general, only in specific, with those she herself cares for. ]

Are you saying you won't respect me in the morning because I'm acting foolish?

[ A few drinks in, she really just can't help herself from prodding further when she's been successful so far. ]

Not in the 21st century, when I'm from, at least. Are you from somewhere other than Earth? [ She'd caught the way he repeated it and immediately wants to know more. ]

[runeing]

No, [ he says back, dryly still, ] I'm saying I will only respect you if you do something worth my respect.

[ he starts at the baseline of not respecting anyone, oops — anyway! onto more interesting things... ]

Fascinating, isn't it, how so many people automatically assume others come from this... Earth, too? I've met quite many with the same assumption. Like there are not an infinite number of planets, solar systems, galaxies... dimensions, timelines.

[ anyway, ] I come from Runeterra.

[computation]

There's a hypothetically infinite number, [ Root corrects, ] and the vast majority of residents here are from Earth or a universe that contains an Earth. Either that's a clustering amid randomness on an infinite scale and this little experiment is a lot bigger than we think, or there's a bias in their selection pool.

[ Root winks at him. Respect her if she does something he respects, huh? That does tend to be how it works. ]

What's Runeterra like?

[runeing]

A number, [ he self-corrects, then, with the slightest quirk of his lips- ]

I would lean towards the latter. Why else should there be so many from the very same universe, the timeline, same city, even? The odds of that happening randomly are astronomically low.

[ but there is a spark in his eyes, now — she is proving to provide much more intelligent conversation than he had dared to hope for. ]

Much like your Earth, from what I have gathered... environmentally, that is. However, there are other races than humans, which seems less common.

[computation]

I think so, too, [ she says brightly in agreement. ] We're definitely the experimental group in this little exercise.

[ Root has her own theories about what's happening here, and while she's always prepared to be proven wrong with new information, she has to make up her mind in some regard just to have a foundation to operate from. She thinks it's likely the original creators were trying to experiment with how to reform or rehabilitate criminals, and therefore had a set of criteria for who they'd include.

Maybe the A.I. is running a little free with those criteria now over time as it's been left to its own devices, but that seems a lot more plausible than this being truly random selection. ]

Maybe that's what it is, [ she suggests. ] There's a few aliens here but they're pretty human-like, too. Our captors must be interested in human behavior specifically, ergo, lots of us from Earth.

[runeing]

Like mice in a cage, no? Or rather perfectly replicated consciousnesses of those mice in a reality simulated around us, in the form of a cage, [ he shrugs, then; that is his running theory in any case.

and then, a nod; she has a mind he is beginning to like. ]

Yes, that is a solid hypothesis, based on the selection. Is any non-human race here alone? If not, it could simply be a mistake in the selection process. It must be easier to replicate those who share a similar background, which means there are many here who share both the world and the timeline — a few mistakes in replicating non-humans instead of humans is, eh, within reason. Especially considering the decay of the simulation protocol.

[computation]

[ Root is indeed smart. She also tends to be highly annoying. While Viktor talks, she spends the time swiping another firey raisin, first planning her approach and then going for it without a single flinch. It doesn't take her more than the first time to get past her pain response.

She pops the raisin into her mouth, chewing and considering. ]

Within a standard deviation, you'd say? [ She's just asking that to be a shit. ] Decay is such an organic word. Machines don't decay. The A.I. needing regular maintenance in the first place just tells me it's a pretty rudimentary intelligence.

[ Nothing like the Machine, of course. ]

[runeing]

[ it is a good thing, then, that his threshold for annoying is high, or perhaps weird — and so he rolls his eyes back at her at that question, and then raises an eyebrow. ]

And how is the concept of a potted flower wilting after a lack of water and care different from the glitches in the simulation after it has not been under regular maintenance? [ yes, he may not have been here during the glitches, but he has read all of caitlyn's notes. in any case, ]

But if you wish to debate vocabulary instead of the nature of our forced confinement, be my guest.

[computation]

Oh, this isn't about vocabulary. This is about the fundamental nature of our existence in this form.

[ Root is perfectly chipper to carry on a conversation about advanced metaphysics while she leans back in her seat and picks up her drink again, slurping, also annoyingly. She appreciates that he's read up on everything already and she doesn't need to backtrack and explain past events. ]

The flower is subject to entropy. Over time it will necessarily decompose into a less ordered existence. There's no reason that has to happen to us if the A.I. is sensible. It should be able to autonomously migrate its data storage and processing to new hardware as needed with minimal disruption.

It should, but it didn't.