Event Log: May

[moustre]

Event Log: May, Moving Day

I. GATHERING The morning of the 15th is heralded by the sing-song voice of The Coven's coimeadai sidhe Nerissa Bell ringing through the hallways, seemingly unimpeded by the heavy doors or any silencing spells that have been placed in rooms. She asks that all those who arrived at the beginning of the month - not the new inductees, the ones from The Looking-Glass House - gather in The Coven's main room; she has some exciting and important news to deliver. Once everyone is gathered, Nessie (very much a morning person, and sorry to the anyone who isn't) grins and lays a hand on her chest. "Thanks to a good bit of your lot, we've managed to get things ready in record time - aye, I should start out with what I'm talking about, aren't I? Well, well - with the Parliament's permission, thank goodness for my Mhairi's sharp wit, we've managed to get a space for all you to live in outside of The Coven. You can still come and attend classes or talk to all of us, 'course, but everyone's been getting a bit itchy with such suddenly crowded quarters, aye?" Aye aye, calls some poor, tired student from the second floor as they pass through, and Nessie pauses with a slow blink before she laughs, shaking her head. "Anyway, gather your things if you have any and follow me. Or us," she corrects herself, as a few other Witches seem to materialize from nowhere. "Can't be out without a couple of friends, I suppose." As soon as everyone's ready, Nessie and her entourage lead them out of the courtyard, aglow with fresh flowers and the soft light of dawn peeking between the clouds. The spot they've managed to get isn't too far from The Coven proper, and it doesn't look much different than the rest of the Aristocratic District that it resides in - the only thing that sets it apart is the sign Nessie takes a moment to conjure up and hang with balls of light between two streetlamps. The Haven. "Named so as a respite for all you refugees," she explains as she turns around; she sets her hands on her hips, gazing out at the crowd, and gives them a small smile. "I can't stay and chat right now - Mhairi's still with Parliament even with the hours, and I've got things to get in order at the Coven still - but if you have need of either of us, we'll be in contact. We've a little mailbox set up in front of the Coven just for you lot, so just drop us a letter or some such with one of our names or both, and we'll be right quick about answering, we will. Within reason," Nessie adds, laughing a little, "'course, within reason. Anyway, find some familiar faces and have a lovely time, will you?" With that, and a few more little goodbyes, Miss Nerissa Bell takes her leave; half of her Witches disappear with her, but the other half remain to help keep an eye on things as the day progresses and to help with directing people to either houses or the barracks set against the Wall. While there will be no NPC threads this time - sorry! - we have opened up an NPC Inbox! You can find it here. While they definitely prefer letters, they do both have watches now like cool moms and can be contacted through that as well, provided they aren't busy at the time.

II. THE HAVEN Formerly part of the Aristocratic District, The Haven is just as well-kept and brightly-lit as the district it hails from. The houses err on the tall and ornamental-side, large enough to fit several families (or, according to the upper class, their one family, several dozen servants, and guests), especially closest to the Aristocratic District. They become a little more modest and smaller as one gets away from the realm of high society and nearer to the Residential District proper. Newcomers are shuffled here and invited to find somewhere to live - the Coven is currently handling expenses for the houses themselves in an program implemented by the Parliament, though if your character wishes to have anything extra - like maids, chefs, and so on - they'll have to pay for them themselves with their own earned money. Much of the landscape and fixtures are the same as in the Aristocratic Districts, though it lacks formal emergency services due to its roots as part of a district that already did. Much of the housing already has furnishing due to the speed at which homeowners were relocated; they were given enough time to collect their valuables, but standard furniture such as kitchenware, couches, beds, etc. were left behind for those moving in. Other houses appear the same, but the dust on the floors suggest these houses were left before the new arrivals even showed up - a reminder that the Cwyld can strike just about anyone, regardless of standing. Some may be familiar with this portion of Aefenglom already, as they took on the task of helping to clean the area up. Surprise, one could say; they were preparing their own future homes, for their stay in the city. However, another portion of this district has been opened up to the new arrivals: the barracks, the row of buildings pressed against the very edge of the Bright Wall. As the city's military force no longer has the same presence it previously did, the barracks have gone into disuse, and a cleanup effort has been in place since before the new arrivals came through the Looking-Glass House. For those who desire something a little less opulent, the barracks might just be the answer. The barracks can also be used for business, for a welcome center, a communal space, for anything that the residents of the Haven see fit to use it for - so long as the legality isn't questionable, on the surface. Not everyone is so happy, however. A very vocal group of younger rich people are set on harassing and bullying those moving into The Haven, and they aren't afraid to use a little magic to do it. Levitation, fake fire, real fire, sudden weather shifts, and threats to do more if they don't find somewhere else to live are all present - these aristocrats don't care for the new people butting into their lives, especially anyone who looks distinctly non-human or already have signs of their Monster traits coming in. There are others, though, who are quite pleased to have new neighbors - many of them weren't so happy with their other ones - and have set up little stalls to peruse and tables to sit at to help foster them in. These have everything from food to flowers, to expensive-looking trinkets and jewelry on them - the people running them are quite amiable, especially closer to the Residential District proper, and don't mind handing these out for free... or mostly free. The only thing they'll ask of any characters wishing to procure something from their gifts is to perform a trick - sort of like a one-man talent show. They aren't picky, and as long as a character does their best, they'll give them a gift. (Or someone with quick fingers could just swipe them off, given how unprotected they are, but that person will find their hands turning red and leaving similarly-colored marks on everything they touch, as if dipped in paint.)

III. AND THEN THEY WERE ROOMMATES To help with filling up the larger houses - and even some of the smaller ones, and the shared rooms in the barracks - the Witches left over from Nessie's group have come together to set up a little roommate finding service that will run for the week. For those who aren't entirely sure who they want to shack up with, they have a small survey for them to fill out and post on the board they've magicked up in the center of The Haven. The board also very helpfully reads aloud each form for everyone to hear in a cheerful, monotone voice. It isn't able to be shut up, nor is it easy to ignore, being imbued with a similar kind of amplification magic that Miss Nessie used earlier in the morning for her own voice. It seems these Witches - or at least one of them - has a prankster nature... and unfortunately, it doesn't stop there. a. A LITTLE MISCHIEF While by and large the board will work as it should - a listing is filled out, put up, and read aloud for all to hear - for characters who aren't interested in doing some writing, or who can't for one reason or another, the board will take it upon itself to make one for them. It isn't going to be the most accurate at all, being either completely fictitious or based on a first impression from the board itself. This can range from "They have blue eyes, so you know they're a kind person!" to "How stand-offish, they must be a crook! A thief! A villain!" and anything in-between, including but not limited to: outrageous feats they may or may not have accomplished, poor hygiene habits, false accounts of incredibly embarrassing moments, and so on. b. A LITTLE HANDS-ON Not entirely content with just allowing people to write their preferences and call it a day, a few of the younger Witches have begun magicking small chocolates, hard candies, and bubble gum, and handing them out to new arrivals as a welcome treat. These aren't any ordinary treats though - they have one of three of effects: • Sticky fingers, meaning characters will stick to anyone or anything they touch. • Truthfulness, meaning characters will say whatever they're really thinking or feeling at the moment. • Desire for company, meaning characters will gravitate immediately to the first person they see, regardless of their feelings on them otherwise. Thankfully, none of these last long - only about ten minutes, and they can't be combined with each other; eating one candy with one effect will simply replace any other effects... Which might be for the better. The subthread for this can be found HERE, while any ones that are made up by the board itself can be simply written into your top levels or replies to other people. Have fun with it, and good luck finding some housemates!

Welcome to the midmonth event log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. As ever, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know, and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

[lovebiter]

[ Julian, this guy has seen scaled people and wolfwomen and insect fae in the last week, so of course there's no real reaction except for a curious kind of interest, before he leaned in and stole a kiss, drew his tongue lightly along the cut over Julian's lips. ]

Doesn't that feel better?

Thank you for bein' so good for me. Now let me show you how fuckin' happy that makes me, give it to you as rough as you want, make sure you can't think another thought until morning, sleep nice and deep and dreamless.

[rowdyraven]

[It's...a strange feeling, to get next to no reaction at all. Reminds him all the more sharply of how far from home he is, that this place-- it's a whole other world, different and alien to the one he knows. He gives himself up to the kiss, both eyes falling closed as he extends the hand holding the eyepatch, discards it to one side, away from the nest of blankets and pillows they're currently sprawled over.

Cain's words are bright, but Julian's thoughts-- they're dark-edged.]

Well, um. You're quite welcome. It's only that uh, where I'm from, it's kind of a big deal. The Red Plague, all the suffering it caused...

[But his words trail away. He realises it then, that they'll only sound empty to Cain. Meaningless.

Slowly, he tries for a smile.]

...never mind. But, look. You don't have to be so nice to me, you know. I hardly deserve it, do I?

[Even if the things he's promising sound immensely tempting, right now.]

[lovebiter]

[ Well that's a fucking ego crusher. Here he was, throwing himself at this guy who'd pretty much already left him once, and...

You know what? Whatever.

Fucking whatever. He didn't care anyway.

He rolled his eyes and flopped heavily to one side, pushing up on the cushions and pillows to be shoulder height with Julian. ]

Isn't it nice that it's not a big deal?

[ He pushed Julian's shoulder, rolled the bigger man to his side, wormed both arms around him. ]

That you can just... let all the shit weighing you down go?

[ He tucked his chin over Julian's head and sighed. ]

[rowdyraven]

[Perhaps one day Cain will realise he's dealing with an exceptionally intelligent man who continuously does exceptionally stupid things. That, and he's currently terribly drunk. But until that day arrives--

--Julian allows himself to be pushed and manhandled into position with only a soft-spoken 'oh', rolls over easy despite the perceived heaviness in him, the numb leaden sensation of his limbs. Shifts subtly to allow easier access for the other man's arms to slide around him. Presses himself flush against the warm weight of Cain's hard-muscled chest.]

It's never that easy, is it? To just...let go of things that have been weighing you down for years. But I suppose it's uh, that is, it's all a bit alarming, isn't it? All of this. Being trapped in some magical realm with no way to return home. All this stuff about witches and...and monsters...well. Rather the devil you know.

[Though his tone, it dips towards wry. He's not strictly sure he'd want to encounter the devil he knows, again.]

[lovebiter]

I... look.

[ His voice was soft. Serious. He slid his hands up Julian's chest, stroking. ]

I was in prison by the time I was nineteen. Got a serve-to-die contract with the military, and that's the only reason I'm not dead in some lightless fucking New Volgan cell. I want to let go.

This place is so fucking beautiful. I've never seen a sea, or... animals, or birds, or... a tree. Or magic. And I want it, I want everything here, want... a future? And... to matter?

To fucking matter.

[ He dragged his nails lightly along Julian's abdomen. ]

Tell me what you want to let go of.

[rowdyraven]

[Cain's voice goes quiet, serious-soft, and there's a weight to it that sinks down past his alcoholic haze, down into some central part of himself that leaves him vaguely aching. There's the momentary compulsion in him to twist around in the other man's arms, to face him, to look him in the eye. To try and offer...something. Because an existence like that, without all the simple things one takes for granted, yet which make it just that little bit brighter-- it's a difficult thing to comprehend, let alone imagine.

There's a twist of guilt in him, suddenly. For his own desperate desire to get back to Vesuvia, the possibilities that have so recently opened up for him, there. Guilty, for trying to push the other man away.

But he doesn't turn. Only leans back a little further against the solid warmth of him, a heat which is beginning to sink down into his own cold, numbed skin. Won't offer empty platitudes. Tries to do him the courtesy of offering an honest answer, instead.]

During the height of the Red Plague, the one that ah, the one that marked my eye, a lot of people died. Thousands, actually. People were dying so swiftly and in such numbers that they often lay there in the streets for days before they were taken away. And I...well, I know now there was little more that I could have done besides what I was doing, but it still didn't feel like enough. And...some of the things that went on at the palace in the name of finding a cure, even if those people were already dying...it was wrong. And I should have done more to stop it, instead of just making idle protests that ultimately went ignored. I still stood by while...

[But he cuts himself off.]

There's a lot, that I'd like to let go of. But I'm not sure that I should. I suppose I paid for it but uh...that, too, doesn't feel like enough.

[Things he may never have said, were he not quite so drunk, and if the night didn't feel so deep and close around them, suddenly, in the wake of Cain's serious voice. Things he might come to regret in the light of day. But for the moment, here they are.]

[lovebiter]

[ As Julian spoke, the image of Anna sharpened in Cain's mind. It felt like a punch to the gut, and his abdomen tightened. He curled a little around the pain at his core, and tightened his arms around Julian's middle. One breath, only one, was a little shallow. ]

... that... feeling? That feeling, that you should have done more, should have... done something, found a way. Survivor's guilt.

[ His fingers shifted, drawing back up over Julian's bare body. Half-tentative. He kept his voice soft, but even so it rustled Julian's hair a little. ]

You want me to tell you what I do?

[rowdyraven]

[Survivor's guilt. He's not sure what to think of that. Not when a significant part of him still believes - quite utterly - that he carries the weight of blame on his shoulders. For at least part of what happened during the plague, and myriad other times, besides. His list of sins - he thinks - is a long one.

But he feels it there, that one shallow breath, the tightening of the other man's arms around his waist and so he only frowns, says nothing of it. Asks the appropriate question instead, as Cain's fingers move with a new uncertainty over his bare skin.]

Go on. What do you do?

[lovebiter]

Use it.

[ He whispered it against Julian's ear while his fingertips massaged slowly up his chest, pressed Julian back against his chest. ]

It's not your place to judge who should go and who should stay, that's not fuckin' on your shoulders. You do everything you can, and then you do more, and it... fucking sucks, to be the one left alive, and to always wish it had been you, instead. To know... they'd all be better off.

But you can't let their memory be an anchor. What does that say about you? About how you think of them? If they could stand in front of you and hear everything you've done in their memory, how would they feel?

Use it. Be better. Be the best. At something, anything. Push yourself, like nobody else can or will. Don't let it be a fucking anchor, let it be your... standard, the flag you pin in every success you chalk up.

Do it for them.

[rowdyraven]

[He listens, quiet in the near-dark of that dilapidated bell tower. Stays quiet even as Cain finishes speaking, and for several long-stretching moments there's only the creaking of the old building around them, the soft patter of the rain against tiles and glass. Those soft sounds, and his own wide-open pain as he lets the words cut through to him, parring away the protective fuzz of the alcohol and leaving something momentarily clear in its place.

The trajectory of his guilt, it stretches back a long way. All the way back to the shipwreck, that most desperate and terrifying night of his childhood, and has only grown and spiralled ever since. Has left a lot of people in his wake who he could push himself for, be better for, instead of turning inward, weaponising his own fears, turning that weapon upon himself.

But living that way, it isn't something he knows how to do.

Eventually, the silence he's let build between them-- it breaks.]

Hah. Well. It sounds to me as though you're a stronger man than I.

[Cain has witnessed first hand, after all, one of his favoured 'coping' mechanisms, tonight.]

[lovebiter]

My sisters always said I was dumber than a pile of bricks, so I think that might be a more likely culprit.

[ He reached and dragged a blanket over them with an unnecessarily dramatic flutter. It was soft, if a little musty. And he leaned down, nipped the slope of Julian's shoulder. ]

But look. You took off that eyepatch. It's a forward step.

[rowdyraven]

[The blanket flutters over them, and suddenly his bone-deep weariness comes more sharply into focus-- he's warm, and he's comfortable, perhaps for the first time in days, and all the encroaching darkness in him, it momentarily softens out around the needs of his own body. Then he feels the sharp edge of teeth against his shoulder, and the low contented sound he makes slips out of him quite inadvertently.

It's a good feeling, and he presses back against it, feels the bright solidity of the other man's body. Wonders - briefly, vaguely - why he ever tried to run from this.]

You don't strike me as dumb. But then, as you've witnessed, I'm something of a fool myself, so perhaps I'm not the best judge.

[As for whether the removal of his eyepatch constitutes any form of progress...that's something he can't decide. Doesn't comment on.]

[lovebiter]

[ Cain felt that ripple of warm sound, the pressure of Julian's back against his chest. Shifted his teeth, and bit in again, harder, made a soft, muffled sound of contentment into the bite. ]

Neither of us is... so stop worrying.

While I make you feel good.

[rowdyraven]

[Cain bites down harder and pain floods his senses, makes him shiver, drags another pleased sound from him that catches in the middle, breaks apart. And this time, he doesn't try to deflect what Cain is offering with words of self-disparagement, says nothing of being undeserving, unworthy. He's too drunk and tired and soul-weary to keep fighting himself over something he actually wants.

Instead he presses back into the bite, into the feel of Cain's warm body, turns his head as best he can to glance back at the main poised high behind him, making him feel smaller than he is.]

Oh? And how do you intend to do that?

[The sly edge of his smile is something that can be heard in his voice.]

[lovebiter]

[ The hot breath of Cain's laughter slid against the back of Julian's neck, and he slipped his hand further down, fingers skimming the older man's body. Went past the trail of coarse red curls leading low on his abdomen. ]

I've got a few good ideas...

[rowdyraven]

Mmmmm.

[The sound he makes is low and warm, a luxuriating thing, and he presses himself into the pass of that hand as it slides through the auburn trail leading from navel down. He reaches back and around with long, slim fingers, cool to the touch but swiftly warming when they find the other man's skin. Skim his waist, dip lower, slide along the firm, thick curve of his ass.]

Have you, now. Well, you certainly have my attention.

[lovebiter]

[ That slim hand curved around his ass and Cain breathed a low and hungry noise against Julian's neck. He parted his lips and bit again, rolled their bodies together, and pressed the older man beneath him.

He remembered very well what Julian liked. ]

[rowdyraven]

[bow chika wow wow]