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

francel de haillenarte; ffxiv; monster (dragon)

[haillenarte]

ii. the haven.
[francel was, himself, born wealthy; he is accustomed to the whims of the rich and the xenophobic. as such, he bears the residents of geargadas no malice — none whatsoever, not even when two young women throw angry glares in his direction, and a group of children attempts (ineffectually) to pelt him with pebbles as he crosses the street. he has other things to be concerned about. he has settled into a house near the wall, one that is sorely in need of dusting and new furniture, but his meager salary at the college has afforded him only a neatly-tailored cream shirt that covers his neck and wrists even in the springtime heat. he hasn't any money. he doesn't feel well enough to take up more work. he can't fit his gloves over his strangely sharp nails.

so when a local woman calls out to him from her charming little stall and asks him to show her something exotic and interesting in return for one of the pretty baubles she doesn't want anymore, well...

it's not really a trick, but he winds up reciting scripture from memory for her amusement. he recites one verse of the enchiridion, then another — then a hymn that was often sung at the cathedral — then the story of king thordan and his twelve knights — and she, delighted by this amusing young foreigner with a strange and silly religion, invites her friends, and then their friends drop by, and —

francel isn't a priest, or even a relationship counselor, but if you see him now, you'll find a young elezen man surrounded by a bevy of local women, of varying ages, all of whom are very interested to know what "his goddess" thinks of their various petty life problems. one of them has given him a pretty ribboned hat in which he is collecting his "payments" — which are really just whatever the girls can find: brooches and earrings that they don't like anymore, silver hairpins that are last season's style.

"so, lord francel — should i call you lord francel?" one young witch asks, after explaining a complex situation between her estranged mother and the monster to whom she is bonded. "what do you think? or what would your goddess say?"]

Er... well, the Enchiridion states that the Fury rewards those who place their filial obligations above all. But I have always interpreted this... more liberally, I suppose, than some of the ordained priests in my country. It sounds as though your mother has never truly been in your life — thus, if there is anyone towards whom you have filial obligations, might it not be your Monster companion? It seems to me you should have a conversation with him about how important he truly considers your inheritance...

[this... is obvious advice, in truth, but the girl titters as though she's never quite seen the situation that way before, and tips him a little crystal hatpin. by the bemused expression on francel's face, however, he's not really doing this for the money anymore. maybe you should drop by his advice corner and see what he has to say about some problem in your life?]

iv. wildcard.
( feel free to contact me through pm or at charlemend for an alternative prompt or extra plotting! )

[civicbooty]

[ As the witches disperse, and the conjured sign attracts the mild chaos of a small crowd, Aymeric stands still at Francel's side, crossing his arms, calm and emanating dissatisfaction at once. This was not the exciting and important news he hoped to hear.

He tilts his head toward Francel, watching the crowd at the board: ]

If you would prefer to make other arrangements, of course, I shall take no offense— [ with someone else he might have cracked a joke about whether he was fit or interesting company, but Francel has several excellent reasons to resent him, and neither of them needs to be reminded— ] —but if not, then perhaps we might forego this process and speak to a witch.

[haillenarte]

[francel looks out at the crowd with similar disappointment, tugging his collar nearly to his chin.]

I'd thought they might have found some means of sending us whence we came.

[he glances at aymeric out of the corner of his eye, fidgeting timidly at the lord commander's implicit offer.]

...I... never fancied myself a culinarian or House chef, but... I make passable meals.

[civicbooty]

[ Aymeric gives him his full and sudden attention, eyebrows raised, as surprised by the admission as much as by the timing — the son of a high house, tacitly offering to do the work of a servant for a man of much lesser birth, who inadvertently caused the death of a good friend and indirectly struck at House Haillenarte's limping fortunes more than once—

He breaks into a smile. ]

Can you? I am no great chef, myself, but I'm certain I can be of some use in the preparations.

[haillenarte]

[something like embarrassment crosses francel's expression; perhaps he is truly shamed to play at being aymeric's servant after all. in truth, he is ashamed, but only because he wishes that he could offer more, as a housemate, than cleaning and the prospect of home-cooked meals.]

It seems the least I can do.

[he assumes, after all, that aymeric will busy himself with being useful in some other way.]

The people I have met... are kind. But I have no desire to cohabitate —

[he breaks off, abruptly, realizing that if he continues he will sound cold-hearted indeed. the truth is that francel likes the people he has met thus far in aefenglom, respects them — but he has always offered them niceties, obligations, falsehoods. with aymeric, on the other hand, he would not have to pretend.

aymeric knows that francel hates him, and the cruelty is that francel is willing to take advantage of it.]

...I would prefer staying with you.