lifeaftr | June Aftermath: Magic Lantern Strange

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June Aftermath: Magic Lantern Strange

JUNE AFTERMATH: MAGIC LANTERN STRANGE

Who: Everyone!
What: A celebration!
When: Evening of June 21st, and well into morning
Where: Ensō, E3 and E4
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Slide the Light Off You
As promised, the evening of the 21st finds the Jormun hosting a party on Ensō's largest beachfront. Near immediately, it should be clear that they've spared absolutely no expense when it comes to showing their story-walker brethren a good time.

Of course, they may also be...showing off a little.

The stalls and comfortable seating supplied around multiple firepits appears to be a mishmash of Jormun built contraptions and items requested from the Storyteller- many may be delighted to see the variety of beach cushions and blankets, items the Jormun will be happy to let their story-walker friends take home at the end of the festivities. A veritable smorgasbord of food and drink is also readily available, from the kid-friendly options of brrshavak (a spicy drink with a taste akin to liquified chili pepper) and molkavarr (a rich chocolaty broth) to the alcoholic rakvrhak (a rich wine that tastes oddly plumlike). Do be warned, however, that the last is incredibly potent.

Large slabs of driftwood have been laid out to form impromptu tables, bristling with the Jormun's culinary expertise: fried squid, seaweed wraps, spicy pickled kelp, kebabs of roasted eel, hard-boiled snapling eggs, and so on. The vegetables and meats of the sea have been laid out for all to enjoy, so tuck in!

Throughout the evening the air will be filled with the sound of music, with multiple Jormun eager to show off their skill in instrumentation. Conch-shell horns, carved driftwood flutes, urchin-needle harps, and countless more contraptions engineered by a deep sea-dwelling people fill the air with the most peculiar but nonetheless not unpleasant sound. Most of the bands will be set up in the shallow waters, however, as their instruments are not made to be used in open air - try playing them above the surface of the water at your own risk.

Of course, there's plenty more to entertain even the most difficult of people.

You're Living the Strobe Light
Those interested in proving their strength and skill will be encouraged to enter one of the many tournaments across the shoreline. The tournaments vary, featuring such challenges as play fights with the schlacknorkcvic to prove who is the greatest warrior, timed events to see who can stay on a bucking tigershark for the longest, and even a tourney of brovonkosshk, a board game somewhat similar to chess. Don't see anything you're interested in? Make your own. If you can think it, the Jormun will happily accommodate it - impromptu challenges are the highlight of such evenings, after all, though the Jormun won't be taking any responsibility for the first poor soul that decides to usher in a drinking contest.

A small variety of walker games are also available. Jormun children are more than eager to play such games as hide-and-seek or red light, green light, while Connor Murphy will be bringing his Cards Against Humanity deck, for those ready to completely screw with the idea of a fourth wall. There's even a game of Spin the Bottle... except the bottle is being spun overhead like a mace. Being hit by said bottle requires you to do a stupidly ridiculous task, so perhaps it's best to avoid that particular adaptation...

And of course, there's the lightshow.

As mentioned previously, the main show of the evening is the show of brssticca: bursts of magical light beneath the water that will put any fireworks show to shame. The lights are safe to wade and swim through, do keep in mind that the phosphorescent algae tends to cling to the skin. And should you reach into those spiraling, fluorescent nebulae of patterns beneath the surface, some of the configurations of light may abruptly shatter like broken glass.

Additionally, skilled Jormun will be happy to assist those who care to dress up for the event with intricate applications of shellivthiss - a style of waterproof body paint that is not only bright, but luminescent. Something the Jormun may forget to mention, however, is how similar shellivthiss is to henna; should you decide to get all dolled up, except to shine bright light a diamond for weeks to come.

Lastly, those who wanted to bring their own adventures are welcome to as well! Supplying some dope roast? Bringing those sweet, sweet greens? Have some alcohol to supply? All is welcomed by the Jormun - and undoubtedly, your fellow adventurers as well.

You May Find Some Peace
Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the OOC Event Post, which has details regarding the event timeline!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's just been a while since I've...

[Freelancer metabolisms. When you're running hot without any break in back-to-back deployments, subsisting off of intravenous rations, surviving with concentrated protein and nutritional compounds, it becomes hard to gauge what's enough to get you really, properly drunk.]

[Though it could've been worse. He could've been Maine, who he suspects was so big that it would take a truly unfathomable amount of alcohol to get him sloshed. The familiar coil of that associative guilt pulses in his gut, but more halfheartedly than usual; its potency is as drenched as he is.]

It's been a while. That's all.

Yeah.

[ She nods, and looks down at her own drink, speculatively. She hadn't gotten drunk either, through the whole shitshow that was Airlocked and everything that came after. It hadn't occurred to her to try. ]

Does it help?

I'm gonna wake up and say "no," [he says, already dryly, bitterly aware that the hangover is going to fog his brain and throb his temples and leave him spitting dregs of whatever he last ate into the sea.]

[He holds up his current improvised glass, a cut-open coconut shell, and drains the dark liquid that's still sloshing inside it.]

But this stuff tastes kinda like plums, and I haven't eaten actual plums in years, so right now I'm gonna say "yes."

No aspirin on deserted island paradise, huh.

[ But his description is intriguing enough that she takes a larger sip, swirling the drink in her mouth thoughtfully as she searches for a taste of plums.

She'll probably regret this too, later, if she keeps going like this. But for the moment, she just swallows, looking out at the glowing lights, the laughing, murmuring crowd, the dark ocean beyond. ]

I wish Varric was here.

[He could probably ask their fucking rabbit god for some, but he'd prefer to save the favors for ammo. A ghost of a memory: who do you think gave them the ammo? His barriers must be as low as his inhibitions.]

[He blinks. Shakes his head, once, to clear it, and squints slightly at her. It comes largely outta nowhere, but - ]

What's he like?

[ She's quiet for a moment, curling in on herself another and taking another long sip of her drink. Her cup - coconut shell, whatever - is starting to look pretty empty. ]

He's -

He's...amazing.

[ Not very descriptive. But true. ]

He always knows what to say to make me feel better. To make me laugh, when I didn't think I felt like laughing.

He gets along with everybody. He has all these friends... [ Not like her. ] And he cares about them. So much. He's...selfless, and funny, and kind, and...

[ She reaches up hastily, too late. A tear slides down her cheek and splashes into her drink. ]

When I with him, I feel...happy. Safe. Like...like everything's going to be okay, no matter how shitty things get.

[Of course he has no context. He has no context, and no emotional attachment, and no reason to care besides the peripheral - the old instinct that lashes him to everyone he never got to say a real goodbye to. It's someone who matters to C.T., and C.T. is a teammate, and so that inclines him to make an effort.]

[He's never met the guy. And what's more, he's the wrong person to try and play emotional support.]

Well, who knows? He might show up here too.

[ It's not fair to Wash, of course. He hadn't been there, he couldn't understand. Even if she told him Varric's entire life story, everything that makes him special, she couldn't do him justice.

And besides. Why should he care? She knows it must seem strange to him. One minute, as far as he knows, she'd been dead and gone for years. The next, she's standing in front of him again, and everything that had happened, all the people who are suddenly so important to her, are entirely alien to him. It's a wonder he hadn't just decided she was crazy. Or not the person he'd once known at all.

She nods, hollowly, not really believing it. He could, but when has the universe ever been that kind to her? Varric had been one of the only good things about her life, and now... ]

Yeah. Sure.

[ And she drains her drink in one go. ]

[Wrong thing to say, probably. Or maybe just...hollow. Like an I'm sorry for your loss, or a Condolences. Like letters sent home from the frontlines, prewritten words with a name substituted at the blank points, clipped and colorless. I'm sorry, and where does that get anyone?]

[Nowhere in particular.]

You don't think so?

I don't know.

[ How's she supposed to know? How's she supposed to even guess? And is it better to get her hopes up just to have them crushed if it doesn't happen, or let herself believe the worst from the start? ]

If he was going to, why wouldn't he have shown up with me?

Why did I show up from a point years after you were dead?

[Just saying, if they're applying time logic here, there are a lot of discrepancies to pick apart. A shrug of his armored shoulders, and - wow, he should probably invest in some actual clothes at some point, because this is probably going to get ridiculous real soon.]

I don't think linearity comes into account here.

[ Don't worry, Wash. It's already ridiculous.

She flops onto her back on the cushions, staring up at the stars. ]

Maybe he will show up, and he won't remember me at all. [ Again. ] Maybe he'll be from a time when we haven't even met. Or - or a world where we never do.

Or maybe he'll be the same guy you're engaged to, and you guys can move in together and start a farm and have an island honeymoon. I don't think anyone here is ordained, but I don't think that matters.

[If that ever ends up being the case, Wash might have to accept that he'll probably be better off finding somewhere else to sleep.]

You can't know unless it happens. [...if it happens.]

[ CT thinks about that for a moment, still looking at the stars. Then she turns her head, just enough to see Wash out of the corner of her eye, and smiles. ]

I knew it.

[ "I'm trying to make you feel better."

She shifts again, gazing back up at the sky again, and closes her eyes, still smiling. ]

I knew the old Wash was still in there somewhere.

[If he were a little more in control of his faculties, he might have something appropriately witty to say to that. Something along the lines of a well-trodden insistence that the "old Wash" is long dead and has been for years, and there's no getting him back.]

[As it is, his mouth simply slips partway open and gapes like that for half a second until he finally recovers the wherewithal to close it.]

Get me drunk enough and I'll almost start acting like myself again. How about that.

[ And yet he's never looked more like the old Wash than when he stands there and gapes at her, at a complete loss for words. She snorts, pushing herself up to her feet and wandering the few steps over to the table to pour herself a refill. ]

Good to know, I guess.

[ She pauses with the pitcher in her hand, glancing at his own empty coconut shell. ]

Is it wearing off yet?

[ And does he want it to be? ]

[How many shitty choices does he feel like making right now?]

[Currently, his poor choices are making the corners of C.T.'s eyes pinch and her expression ease into a smile that looks the way laughter feels on his throat - like working an injured muscle, dredging up an old, tired instinct that hasn't been exercised in entirely too long.]

[He holds out his shell, apparently conceding to the morning's regrets.]

Probably. I should fix that.

Yeah. You should.

[ They might both regret this tomorrow...but for now, she's perfectly happy to let that be future CT's problem. She fills up Wash's shell and then her own, taking a sip right away. She's still got some work to do to catch up with him, after all. ]

You know, this stuff isn't bad.

It gets better the more you drink.

[And he's just gonna go ahead and start swigging. Maybe, if he sucks enough down, he'll be able to manage a full eight hours at a time. Even if it comes at the cost of an aching set of temples and the smell of vomit in the sea.]

You know, I can't remember the last time I had fresh...anything.

I bet it does.

[ Doesn't it always? She nods, looking down thoughtfully into her drink. ]

There was a lot in Kirkwall. I mean, pretty much everything was fresh.

[ The joys of a pre-MRE world. ]

Before that, though...yeah. I really don't miss rations.

North would give me shit for sneaking fruit into my locker from the mess. Like any of them were gonna miss it. You know how hard it was to find fresh fruit when you're some lower-class Earther kid?

[And in three sentences, he's said more about himself than he ever has to anyone in...years.]

[The alcohol's loosened his tongue, but it hasn't completely stripped him of his senses. The lack of a helmet paints his expression in broad, highly visible strokes: the shock in his slack jaw and the startled blink when he recognizes what he's just said.]

[ It's certainly more about his past than he's ever told to her. Of course, she'd known some of it from the data she'd stolen, the very detailed personnel files the Director had kept on every one of the agents.

Still. She stares up at Wash, wide-eyed, her drink entirely forgotten. She hesitates, speaking carefully. Neutrally. If he wants to say more, she'll listen. If he wants to drop it...well, she won't push. ]

I didn't grow up on Earth.

[ So, no. She doesn't know. Not firsthand. ]

I didn't mean -

[Didn't mean to say that. Didn't mean to let that slip. Why did he? God, why's he - ]

[Walk it off, Washington. Instinct still has him by the throat, some days (most days), and the temptation to suck down the remainder of his drink is there, but the possibility that he might let something else slip in the process arrests him.]

Stuff is stronger than I thought.

It's okay.

[ What's okay? That he'd grown up poor? That, God forbid, he'd actually, however many decades later, felt comfortable enough to say something about it to her? She looks away, realizing belatedly that she's still staring at him. ]

Yeah. I...guess it is.

Sorry. I just don't remember the last time I...

[The last time he said anything like that. Anything at all. The last time he commented on any part of his life prior to Freelancer. He buckled it under a lockbox of repressed everything, sealed it away along with Cecil Kyle and the taste of a bathroom floor.]

[It slipped out, but when do things like that ever slip out?]

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