margarita mixer mingle mlog

[itselbitch]

characters: eliot waugh, and YOU
location: the invincible, bar area
date/time: sept 26, what constitutes eliot's evening, but whatever time it would be for everyone else
content: eliot has way too much tequila and wants to share some of his delicious extra añejo gold with all of you. with a little friendly negotiation, he's taken over the bar and is mixing up drinks for anyone who shows up. kid friendly options available. also there is homemade chips, queso, salsa, and even pan de muertos because eliot's an overachiever. buen provecho!

also there's probably going to be a lime shortage after this until the next ship arrives.
warnings: alcohol, probably some language




Wait, is this a. Party? At The Invincible? Who? What? Why?

Unfortunately, there is no announcement. There aren't even any invitations. It all seems to get set up in the span of minutes, and now there's clearly some sort of fiesta going on. That's all to plan though. See, as an experienced party thrower, Eliot knows no one's actually invited to a good party. The right people just show up, and the rest is history.

So come on over! Have a seat! The smell of fresh food and lime beckons!


THE BAR

Eliot's stationed behind the bar counter, waiting to mix on order whatever you request. Obviously the special today is margaritas, and he's highly recommending it, especially since he's using the good stuff that Beacon seems to have no idea exists, but if you really want to order something else, he'll comply. You filthy heathen.

There are also spirits helping him serve up drinks, but even though he taught them how to make a proper marg, it seems like they're not at all as good at mixing as Eliot is.

Along the bar are various, colorful bowls filled with homemade chips that Eliot whipped up earlier in the day. The bowls are even charmed to keep the chips toasty for so that you don't have to worry about a sad, cold chip! Dipping options include a few varieties of salsa, a refreshing guacamole blend, and a hearty queso.

SEATING AREA

The entire area is decorated in colorful streamers and paper crafts, reminscent of a Mexican festival. Some of the tables have paper-craft skulls colored to look like sugar skulls and there are even a few delicious loaves of pan de muertos waiting to be devoured. "But Eliot! It's not October yet!" No, it's not, but his margarita party is now! Enjoy it anyway!

Of course there are also tables here with chips and your choices of dip. Have at it! He can't possibly eat all these as leftovers, and Quentin doesn't need even more snacks in his diet.

There are some coloring sheets left out on a couple tables too, with markers and crayons available if anyone wants to color any. Eliot thought about using paper cutouts of sugar skulls as decorations before he figured out his paper-craft. While he decided against them, coloring them in might be entertaining for someone else.

Would you also like to make your own paper-craft skull? Well, then lucky you! There are also stencils traced onto paper and (safety) scissors for you to cut them out with. You'll find that they have a tab that slots into a slit to keep it all together without any tape. How fancy is that?

(( this is a mingle log! feel free to make you own top-levels and tag around! eliot is available at the bar for chatting and orders. ))

Comments

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas doesn't mingle, and he certainly hasn't made any sort of active effort to do it since he suddenly and abruptly found himself alone. But then, Vanitas has spent most of his existence alone. The only difference now was that instead of it being forced on him by the Master that abandoned him in the desert, he was constantly surrounded by people reminding him of exactly what he is:

nothing like them.

But he needs to fill his days with something. Usually, it's laying listlessly in his bed upstairs or curled up on the trapdoor of the Church— but today something is happening in the pub so Vanitas wends his way down to check it out.

It's some kind of party, that much is clear, but he doesn't bother asking what it's about. Instead, his eyes go directly to the food and Vanitas makes a beeline for the pan de muertos. So he can be found loitering at the bar, stuffing his face with sugar while his Unversed perches on the stool he isn't sitting on, holding his black-flame lantern. ]

[withsadness]

[Here comes Mary to join (ruin?) the fun.

A girl on a mission, she crawls her way between the barstools, trying to catch her victim by surprise! She's doing her best not to trip over her skirt as she does so, and puts her finger to her lips in a shh gesture as she catches sight of the Unversed. Don't! Blow! Her cover!]

[evulsed]

[ Mostly she's lucky Vanitas isn't looking down— but then, why would he be doing that to begin with? It's not like he's expecting someone to be crawling between the barstool legs to get at him. And depsite his constant hyper-vigilance, maybe the very fact there's enough noise and people in the room for Vanitas to expect some people to brush past him stop him from noticing when Mary is almost on him.

In fact, he's looking the opposite direction, pulling bread apart between his fingers and watching Eliot pour a drink. His Unversed watches Mary, unblinking because it doesn't have any eyelids, but when it tilts it's head the lantern leans with it and tinkles gently. ]

[withsadness]

[This is amazing and she's so close to victory! Carefully, Mary adjusts herself into a pouncing position...]

Boo!

[She jumps the gun, though, and when she leaps, her footing is off, and she goes crashing into...the back of his knees.]

[evulsed]

[ It all happens at once, the shout, and the crash into the back of his knees. It almost knocks his legs out from underneath him, and Vanitas throws the bread over the counter to grab the top of it and stop himself from collapsing under the momentum.

He hasn't stood up all the way yet before he's twisting around, angrily looking for his assaulter. ]

What's the big idea!

[withsadness]

[Mary decides, in that moment, that she's not going to admit that she tripped and messed up her surprise attack. She snakes herself further around his legs, laughing despite his anger.]

Did I scare you?

[evulsed]

Of course not.

[ Who else would it be? Only this stupid girl would have the ignorance to try and sneak up on him. Vanitas raises one boot and puts it against her ribs as she winds her way around his ankles. He doesn't kick her so much as just shove her over and away from him. ]

Trying to get yourself killed, you stupid girl? All you have to do is ask.

[withsadness]

That's mean. Don't call me stupid!

[She tries to shove his foot right back, but of course he's stronger than her and it really doesn't result in much other than her grappling one handed with the bottom of his foot while the other stays latched around his leg.]

[evulsed]

[ He growls when they stay awkwardly tangled together, and Vanitas reaches one hand down to grab her back the back of her shirt— trying to haul her bodily away from his leg. She's like a barnacle, though, so it's easier said than done. ]

Stop being stupid and I won't call you stupid.

[ They're probably starting to look ridiculous, the way Mary won't let go and how Vanitas is doing his best to try and dislodge her. ]

Get off of me.

[withsadness]

No!

[It seems that her determination to keep herself latched onto him is partially being fueled by his own insistence that she do the exact opposite. It begs the question why she decided to do this in the first place, but, you know, some things seem better in the moment.]

Apologize, first!

[She practically hisses like an animal at him, writhing as he tries to get his grip. A part of her knows she's fighting a losing battle, but does that mean she's going to make it easy.]

[equinoctials]

[ Not that Riku's been actively searching for Vanitas all that often - like he said to M.K., they're not friends. Neither is he avoiding him, even if they've been at each other's throats nearly as many times as Riku's extended a kind of olive branch.

He's surprised to find him here, less surprised to see him going directly for the sweets. Saw something similar back at the wake, like he'd just discovered junk food and couldn't get enough. ]

How'd you survive?

[ No preamble, not when Riku just slides into a bar stool with a glass drained down to about a half-inch of cloudy-pale yellow and a sliver of lime. He looks at the Unversed clutching the other boy's lantern and...

...might have slid his glass closer to it, with the carefully curated expression that is neither innocent nor too mischievous. ]

Who healed you? After the spirits ran wild?

[ Hi, Vanitas. Where the heck have you been? ]

[evulsed]

[ They don't talk, not really. It doesn't matter that they'd both gone out to search for Sora, or that they'd been at one another's throats after the expedition to the Lighthouse— and it certainly doesn't matter that Riku had been there, however briefly, when Vanitas just started his haunting of the church.

If Vanitas could turn his own pain outward, he might take it upon himself to follow Riku around— the last tie to their world— just to make sure he could keep a finger on the pulse of what he's doing. But the fact is, the yawn in his chest has been so all consuming that Vanitas hasn't cared to do it.

He isn't expecting to see that slash of silver, sliding in next to him like he has every right to be there. Vanitas turns his eyes on him, derisively glancing at his empty glass before going back to his face. Who healed you. Vanitas still has the scar Elden left him, a broad sun with a pinched center in the middle of his chest. Sometimes it still aches. Vanitas isn't sure if that's just because it's a new scar, or because it had been light poured directly into his body. ]

Why? Planning on doing something else stupid?

[equinoctials]

[ They've only related because their lives orbited around one bright star: Sora. Without him, Vanitas and Riku both drift, unmoored by the hollow in their own ways. Riku could have done more to reach out.

He probably should have.

Being hurt is no excuse, not when Riku's been able to do so much in the weeks since Sora left Beacon. The problem was having an incentive that wasn't entangled with something negative. He needs something and that's not a great way to approach someone if he means to connect in some meaningful way. ]

Bet you'd love to see it if I was. Who healed you?

[evulsed]

Only if it makes you look like a fool.

[ He doesn't miss a beat, his retort immediately on the heels of Riku's words— but he holds out on giving him a proper answer. Instead, Vanitas puts another torn piece of confection into his mouth, chewing it slowly to feel the full effect of the melting sugar.

Really he has no reason to hide it. Vanitas isn't getting anything out of keeping it to himself, and it's not like that other kid doesn't go around offering himself up to help on the regular. He swallows, raises one hand to his mouth to lick sugar off his thumb, all the while staring Riku down like its some kind of contest.

Finally he looks away, to pick up another piece of bread. ]

Elden.

[equinoctials]

[ That's about what he expects, it's more in line with how these exchanges go. It started as an inkling, and now Riku's fairly sure this is how Vanitas socializes. By making everything a battle of some kind.

He admits to himself that he doesn't mind it as much as he should, but then... Riku's enjoyed a challenge, he's just always enjoyed them more when they came from or involved Sora.

Vanitas, regardless of the way he's a darker dead ringer for his best friend, couldn't be more different. They stare each other down until Vanitas looks away, and Riku's troubled gaze drops briefly, swallowing around the lingering taste of his drink. Elden? So that must have been what he meant... ]

Got it. Thanks.

[ He turns in his stool, scooping up a small straw, using it to siphon up a bit of the sweet dregs of his drink. ]

There is something. Won't need Elden for it, though.

[ As Riku speaks, he tips up the straw, one finger wedged up at one end, offering the tart-sweet liquid caught in the other end to the Unversed. ]

His light burns too brightly.

[evulsed]

Whatever.

[ Vanitas' lip curls but he doesn't look back at Riku. He gave him his answer, so he's expecting the lightbearer to take it and go. They have no reason to be around one another, after all. Vanitas isn't tied to him the way he'd been tied to Sora, that long thin thread that bound them, reeling Vanitas in despite the ways he tried so hard to hold the line. Riku is here to help bring the light back, just like everyone else, and Vanitas was never going to be able to do anything to help with that.

Darkness is where he belongs. If this world stayed how it was forever, he would survive just fine. The lady under the church could do it. Why not him?

But then the boy keeps talking, and Vanitas is forced to acknowledge him. Not just because the words he uses, the easy way they bait his attention, but because he clearly offers his drink to his Unversed.

The feeling that surges up through him is difficult to describe. Something like annoyance, or frustration, or embarrassment— sharp and connected to all three. His stupid replica had done this same thing, trying to feed his fledgling emotions like they wanted or needed anything like that. They were monsters, didn't these idiots understand that?

The creature tilts it's head, turning it's unblinking red eyes on the straw— but before it can do anything Vanitas' hand snaps out and he plucks the whole glass right out of Riku's hand. ]

I thought that's what you wanted.

[ He snarls, putting the glass out of the immediate reach of his Unversed. He slides the lime along the rim, collecting the sugar on the meat of the fruit. ]

That's all any of you ever talk about.

[equinoctials]

If you wanted one that badly, you could've asked the tall guy.

[ The tall guy at the bar making the drinks like it's performance art. The tall guy who has a name, but it was all Riku could do not to choke on air, let alone on his drink, the last time they spoke.

Remembering how Vanitas had taken to the sweets, he watches, with his interest a little too avid, as Vanitas gathers the white crystals clustered against the rim of his cup with that little wedge of lime, opting not to warn him that it's salt. ]

It's not all I want.

[ There's a lot of other outcomes that Riku desires, even more than the return of light to this world. It just so happens that they both miss one in common, and Riku wonders sometimes if Vanitas even knows what it is to miss someone, by name, or if it's just another ache inside. Like the one that drew him into the church to wait for... Gene, probably. ]

Concerns using the darkness for something. I'll even bet it's a use you haven't thought of.

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas snorts, and while it could probably be ascribed to either one of Riku's statements, it's definitely the latter. It's not what I want. That's probably the most ridiculous thing he's heard all day and he's already had to deal with Mary. ]

Sure, Riku.

[ The sarcasm his thick as he pulls the lime off the edge of the glass and puts the wedge in his mouth. The thing is: Vanitas has no idea what it is. He's never seen this fruit before, and he's certainly never had a cocktail in his hand— he just assumes that whatever Riku had been ingesting is probably safe for him, too, and so throws the usual caution he would use to the wind.

It doesn't work in his favor. The salt and the tart squirt of juice hits the inside of his mouth in all the wrong ways, crawling across his tastebuds and clinging to the sides of his tongue. His reaction is relatively dramatic, how he jerks his head back and pulls the lime from his mouth in the same movement— expression screwed up in the universal revulsion to sour. ]

Agh! That's disgusting!

[ He drops the lime on the counter and raises his arm to his mouth, using the bone of his wrist to wipe his tongue and lips free of the salt. The look he throws Riku is almost offended and definitely accusatory. ]

What's wrong with you, eating something like that?

[darkeyed]

<sub>[Extra drinks on offer in the one and only place a dead man can get a drink in lieu of a hit of opium? Sold.

M.K. doesn't much care what's in the glasses or how expertly they're flavored; he mechanically puts back mouthfuls like one of those toy drinking birds that bobs for water on a timer. When he gets tired of the drinks (or they tire of him), he'll leave, and do it all again another day (night), but for now, he's here. And with two of the margaritas in hand.

One finds a home in front of Vanitas. He's always meant to talk to the other again--being in the bar at the same time's as good an opportunity as any.]</sub>

One of these again?

_{[The question is directed at the Unversed, which he puts out a finger to poke in a Pillsbury Doughboy move.]}

It's a different shape than last time.

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas looks first at the drink, it's bright color with it's stupid little fruit on it, clearly intended for him the way the other guy had placed it on the counter— and then looks up at the offending party to supply it.

His eyes stay on M.K., even as his attention is on the Unversed on the stool. It turns around to face him, holding the black lantern with it's black flame up and away from the approaching hand, as if to keep it safe. The creature is solid, but it's cold to the touch. It transfers the lantern to one ear and uses the other to push M.K.'s hand away with a surprising amount of strength for something that looks like a misshapen rabbit. ]

That's because it's a different kind, moron.

[darkeyed]

<sub>[Coming from the bright bulb who'd gotten himself killed facing down a different kind of spirit he didn't fully understand? That's either harsh, or funny. He's not feeling mean enough to slug back with either, doggedly sticking to the middle of the road and the mild inquiry he hasn't found the time to indulge in before now.

Besides, he'd have to be a major hypocrite to take offense at a barbed conversation partner. He's been that conversation partner. Still is, depending on how little tolerance he has for someone.]</sub>

Obviously. But why? Why do they look different? Is that on purpose?

<sub>[Speaking of conversations, the ones he's had with both Vanitas and Riku have only served to highlight a difference in their conceptions of darkness. And in Vanitas' case, there's a very tangible difference in how it's used.

Half-expecting the creature to reveal teeth and bite him, M.K. reaches to snag that ear between his fingers, aiming for a closer feel of its cool texture with a thoughtful quirk of his head. He hadn't gotten a good one fighting the things--then it had just been pure, instinctual reflex to dodge them and knock down the ones that got too close, uncaring of what they were or why they were attacking.]</sub>

[evulsed]

[ The texture is strange, like maybe it should be fur, but is too smooth, like silk. It doesn't move like there's muscle inside of it, and if the Unversed wasn't actively twitching, it might almost seem like what M.K. was holding was nothing more than a thick piece of fabric.

But the Unversed jerks, it's ear slipping from between his fingers slick an eel, and in the almost the same moment fwips back. The movement is too fast to see, but when the Unversed resets to it's more neutral position, there's a cut across the back of M.K.'s hand, bleeding freely.

Now, though— the Unversed seems to have taken full interest in M.K.. The lantern wobbles as it watches him, red eyes unblinking. ]

Negativity doesn't just look like one thing. Just like the Darkness isn't just one thing.

The Unversed are made from fledgling emotion. Why would they all look the same?

[ The topic seems to stir Vanitas out of something like a stupor, some of the activity coming back into his eyes where a moment before, they'd been dull and disinterested. ]

[darkeyed]

Ouch. _{[It's a more habitual remark to the sting than genuinely pained; it had been a light cut, like the warning nip of a dog. Still, he has room to be a little peevish about it as he examines the back of his hand.]} All right, so they don't like to be touched.

<sub>[The average dark one lives in fear of this very moment--the tiniest cut making him or her bleed and unleashing a fatal darkness. At another point in time, he'd have walked out with the bar a bloodbath of mangled bodies behind him, remembering nothing past the inquisitive light in Vanitas' gold eyes.

Now, though, he frowns and sucks the blood away. His hard-won control means party-goers give to live another night.]</sub>

If that meant anything to me, do you think I'd be asking? You're the only one I know who can make things out of darkness.

[evulsed]

I am the only one that can make things out of darkness.

[ He drawls back, like this is a fact, and to Vanitas it is. Xehanort couldn't do it— he could only encourage it. Even the Heartless weren't forged the way the Unversed were— they were created during the separation of heart and body.

No, there was nothing like Vanitas in his known universe. That was the point. He was alone, because nothing was ever meant to be divided cleanly down the middle into Light and Dark the way Ventus and he had been.

His gaze is steady on M.K., his eyes flicking briefly down to his bleeding hand. ]

There's nothing else like me.

[ His eyes go back up to his face. ]

Even your Darkness isn't like mine.

[darkeyed]

_{[He brushes fresh blood welling up with the edge of his thumb, idly rubbing it away between thumb and forefinger. After being cut exactly like this every day for half a year, the sting is like familiar white noise and doesn't impede the conversation.]}

Why is that?

<sub>[A simple question in response to the far-reaching claim. What makes him so different?

He has a mind to poke the Unversed again, making up for the time he hasn't had to study them up close like this, but he refrains.]</sub>