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 )

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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?]

[ 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?

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.

[ 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.

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.

[ 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.

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.]

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[ The rest of her life. A life so short that Wash had lived to see the end of it. Had lived long past the point when nearly all of the rest of them were dead and gone.

A single tear splashes down onto her knee, surprising her. Reflexively, she reaches up to knuckle over her cheek. ]

She didn't know.

She couldn't have done anything else.

[It's the alcohol. It's the substance burning in his veins and down the back of his throat and making his tongue feel heavier and slower than it actually is, and C.T. is now crying and he has to bite his cheek, because he can't remember the last time he ever saw a Freelancer - ]

[They're not really, though, are they? Not anymore.]

But you still trusted her. Did you know that might...that it could've gone that way?

I didn't know anything.

[ Somehow, she can't bring herself to tell Wash to stop. She should, because - do they really have to keep talking about this? She'd died, she'd died and she'd tried to forget it, tried to move on, but Wash is here now, a ghost from the past, and the new life she'd built is gone and, surprise, she's not as over it all as she'd thought she was.

Not as well-adjusted to her own death as she'd imagined.

Surprise. ]

I didn't know what I was doing, Wash, or if anything would work - I didn't know who I could trust. Why do you think -

[ Why does he think she hadn't approached Tex sooner? That she'd left the message hidden away - not to be found until she herself was gone, one way or another.

Why does she think she hadn't told him? ]

It was all just...guessing. Contingencies. Trying and hoping for the best and never knowing if I'd be caught, if the Director had been watching me from the start, if it would all even be worth it -

[ Her voice cracks, and she stops. ]

[If he had more wherewithal, more of a grasp on himself, it's possible that he would have straddled an eerie line - escalated things in a progressive forward rush, digging shivs into their ribs, like a knife stuck the fuck between ribs that Tex didn't have.]

[Instead, he falls silent.]

You were just...the first one. The first one of my friends to die. And we thought it'd end there, but it didn't, because my two best friends left and I never saw it coming.

[They were a team. A shattered, miserable, competitive, untrusting, untrustworthy, backstabbing mess of a team, but - ]

[But the alcohol is simmering away in the dark areas of his brain, the parts he represses when he's still sober enough to do so, and he can't ignore the fact that he misses them.]

[ No. He hadn't seen it coming. She'd tried to warn him, tried to open his eyes - wake the fuck up - but he hadn't been ready. Not then.

Not until his implantation, when he'd understood everything all too well.

CT closes her eyes, leaning back on her cushions. They've been over this. If she could've been more straightforward with him. If she could've brought him with her. If she could've saved him. If. If. ]

I know.

First you, and then Maine, and -

[A ragged hitch of sound catches in his throat, something almost like a laugh, too drenched in bitterness to count as anything but the self-deprecating, scornful thing it is.]

They must've thought I was an idiot. For not seeing it. You must've thought - fuck, I knew our C.O.C. was bullshit, that's how it is in every outfit, but I just kept trusting them like that would make it all simpler.

[ What happened to drunk, loopy, charmingly earnest Wash? Nothing good. CT looks up at him for a moment, then reaches up to grab his hand, tugging him gently but firmly down beside her. ]

You're not an idiot.

[He laughs again. While it's more recognizable as a laugh this go around, it's also too drenched in bitterness to be interpretable as anything good. He hits the ground with a bump, unresisting, and combs a gloved hand up through his terrible helmet hair.]

You told me. You told me point blank to wake up and I just acted like it was nothing.

Well...

[ That's true. She thinks about it for a second, then leans over and bumps her shoulder against his.

And winces. Ow, Wash. You really gotta lose the armor. ]

Maybe a little bit of an idiot.

But it wasn't your fault.

[He really does. But that would mean wasting a story asking for clothes, and he's already definitely decided to save those up for more ammo, because of who he is as a person.]

Then whose fault was it?

[The Director's? It'd be easy to say it, sure, but if he's honest with himself - and the alcohol has made this uncomfortably easy of late - it speaks to something deeper and more unsettling.]

[A soldier like him, as willing to follow orders as he was, with a devastating aim and a sense of adaptability that made him a genuine asset in a firefight?]

[He might not have been the best of Freelancer, but he was picked for a reason.]

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June Aftermath: Magic Lantern Strange

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