June Aftermath: Magic Lantern Strange

[lifeaftr_mods]

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!

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( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[counterblows]

[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?

[tuskenlancer]

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?

[counterblows]

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.

[tuskenlancer]

[ 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.

[counterblows]

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.]

[tuskenlancer]

[ 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.

[counterblows]

[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.

[tuskenlancer]

[ 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? ]

[counterblows]

[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.

[tuskenlancer]

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.

[counterblows]

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.

[tuskenlancer]

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.

[counterblows]

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.]

[tuskenlancer]

[ 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. ]

[counterblows]

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.

[tuskenlancer]

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.

[counterblows]

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?]

[tuskenlancer]

[ She waits, just in case he's going to continue that thought. But he doesn't, and eventually she just shrugs, shaking her head. ]

You don't have to apologize.

[ She glances down at the ground, lips twisting up in a wry smile. ]

Besides. I already know everyone's deepest, darkest secrets anyway, remember?

[counterblows]

But we never could figure out yours.

[It’s neither accusatory nor wistful; it’s just fact. She died before any of them could get much besides he loose justification for how she acted, and a torch passed in the form of dog tags on a chain.]

Drove Carolina up the wall.

[tuskenlancer]

[ She's silent for a moment, trying to interpret his tone. Is he - had he been angry about that? Does he think she's still holding something back?

She'd never wanted to keep secrets from anyone. But she hadn't had any choice. ]

Well, you know.

I guess I wouldn't have been a very good spy, otherwise.

[counterblows]

You went up against the two top agents at once and you put a knife in Tex's back. You got the drop on her when no one else in our unit could even touch her half the time.

[She was, in that regard, a damn good operative. Maybe her frustration about the board was well-earned - but she was just as exceptional as the rest of them.]

[And just as easily torn to scrap when they fragmented, one by one.]

You knew not to draw the Director's attention, didn't you? Not being on the board at all - it kept you under the radar.

[tuskenlancer]

[ She stares at him for a long, long moment. Then she laughs, once, incredulous. ]

You think - you think I was trying to stay off the board? You think that was on purpose?

[ After all the frustration, the tears, the kicking herself after every failed mission - is he serious? She shakes her head vehemently. ]

No, Wash. I wasn't trying to keep off anyone's radar.

I just couldn't measure up.

[counterblows]

I'm not saying you -

[He's not articulating this correctly. His brow furrows, a scrunching up of the spray of freckles across his forehead.]

You sold yourself short. Not even Maine could square up against Texas, and that match was three on one - you remember, right? You put a blade in her back.

[And he remembers it, too. He remembers it vividly, not because he was there, but because years later, Texas would spin and plant a blade in the Meta's lower back in much the same way C.T. once did to her.]

[tuskenlancer]

[ CT looks at him a moment longer, thinking. Then she shakes her head, letting it drop again.

Honestly, she can't really explain what had happened in that fight, or how she'd survived as long as she had. (Before Tex returned the favor, before she put an axe in CT's gut - ) ]

She wasn't trying to kill Maine then.

[ Her voice is quiet. This isn't really something she likes to think about very often, much less talk about. ]

I guess - it's different, when you're fighting for your life.

[ And she had been. Tex had made it clear from the start that she wasn't going to be pulling any punches.

Actually, we don't need you. We just need your armor. ]

[counterblows]

[If he were a little less drunk, maybe he could draw a more definitive line and keep a lid on it and not be the babbling moron he used to be. He opens his mouth and closes it again, and - ]

She regretted it.

What she did. She kept your tags for...the rest of her life, really.

[They found them on her, after all - after what was left of the shell of her ship and its doomed landing at Valhalla.]