logsinthenight | Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Entry tags:

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

characters: EVERYONE??
location: General Store + around Beacon
date/time: October 18-31
content: This is the costume prompt from the TDM, delivered to you all in mingle-style by popular request and with mod approval
warnings: n/a for now but will update

Although the month is already well underway, residents of Beacon will notice a brand new shipment being delivered to the general store—only this one comes via the forest, as a small legion of spirits quickly drop off crates of boxes at its doorstep before scampering back into the woods. Hopefully nobody is riding too hard on hoping for further rations or supplies, because opening them up quickly squashes any notions of a full month's restock. Instead, it looks like each crate is bursting with costumes! Coming in all shapes and sizes to fit anyone of any age or decree, there’s plenty to choose from. Something scary? Magical? Clever? Or maybe even a bit on the sultry side? Dig deep enough, and you’re sure to find something to suit your tastes, props, accessories, wigs and all!

If nothing else, surely you can find an alternate use for a bit of spare fabric in your size, but what's the harm of having a bit of fun? But, oh, be careful if you're playing dress-up while the hallucinations from the event are in play... These costumes might just have a funny effect on you. 🤔!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm not sure whoever provides these ever thinks that far ahead," he replies. The clothing in the store, delivered each month, does range in sizes but clearly with the average height primarily in mind. It's a good thing he's not terribly picky about colors or patterns or he would be very out of luck. Nothing ever matches, he still hasn't found a pair of pants that actually completely covers his ankles, and his shirts tend toward too tight. Given the rate at which his clothing gets damaged, and the fact that the ferry is out of commission, he's starting to legitimately wonder if he'll have to learn sewing and make something out of bedsheets.

"Where did these come from, anyway? I don't remember seeing anyone carry them off the ferry."

"A bunch of the spirits brought them. I watched them come in." He does as promised, though, and starts digging through the clothing with a will, pulling up pieces that seem particularly large and holding them up in Rosinante's general direction, as if gauging size versus fabric strain. "You'd think if spirits brought them, they'd be a little more varied. It's not like they have any idea what sizes we should actually come in."

"They've had months to watch us, though. They can probably make general guesses." But would they? Who knows. The things don't seem that intelligent. Even when they were attacked, it was the sheer number of spirits and their own lack of coordination and organization that caused so many problems. In the case of a reset, they're still probably out of luck just because of how outnumbered they are.

But those thoughts are for another day. Right now, it's probably smart to try and relax, as hard as that is.

"That's pretty cool, that coat," he says, nodding to something long and bright red, with gold buttons. Not great for not being noticed, but fine for around town. Not the sort of thing he'd normally wear exactly, but none of these are.

"It'd go pretty nice with your face paint," Stone agrees, and offers the coat to Rosinante to try. "Think you can squeeze it on? I'm no Arbora, I can't do mending-- eyesight's not good enough. But if you really want it, maybe someone else can make it fit."

"Well, let's see," he says as he reaches for it. He makes no attempt to actually fit his arms into it, but simply drapes it over his shoulders, wearing it like a sort of cloak - or he tries, anyway.

"It's close. Kinda narrow," he points out. It wasn't cut for someone with shoulders quite as broad as his, even if the length looks all right. It has to open too wide to fold nicely around him, leaving creases down the back and it slips off quickly when he tries to turn in it. "I don't actually know if anyone around here does tailoring these days, though. Used to."

Which is to say, Melisandre did, but she hasn't been seen in months, now. The thought of so many people being lost without a trace still hurts.

Ironically, Bucky could probably do it... if somebody ever reminded the Soldier it knew how.

Stone does know clothes, though, once he leans back enough to get a decent view of him through his one good eyes. "And the sleeves will probably need to be extended. But it could probably be done. Just don't ask me to try, I'd probably ruin it. What's your name, anyway?"

"Rosinante," he replies, as he scoops up the coat to hang over his elbow until he finds someone who can modify it. The sleeves are low priority to him - convenient if it gets truly cold, but everyone normally just wears these things on their shoulders otherwise.

Well, everyone at home. People here don't really do that, do they? Weird. Well, fashion trends can hardly be expected to cross planetary borders.

"And you?" he asks, as he holds out his hand to shake. He's seen the man here and there, but never got a great handle on who he is. One of the most recent arrivals, he knows that much.

"Stone. Line-grandfather of Indigo Cloud court, but nobody here knows what that means, so I just keep saying it to collect the confused looks." He smiles, though. "Besides, it gives me an excuse to talk about home when people ask." He doesn't get up, since getting up requires energy and moving grumpy old bones, but he does reach to take the hand... well, the wrist. He clasps his fingers around Rosinante's wrist for a light squeeze rather than a shake, then lets go.

Not the sort of greeting he'd expected in any way at all, so Stone does get rewarded with a brief blank look of something like confusion, though more at the wrist squeeze than the rest. He never expects to know what people are referring to when they talk about their home nations here, after all.

"Well, you're right about that. Mind explaining? Since you've given yourself the opening for it."

Sort of refreshing to come across someone who wants to talk about who they are and where they're from, anyway, so he'll take advantage of that for the novelty of it.

Stone grins. Works every time, don't it? "Line-grandfather. Means I'm a fluke of the bloodlines and I lived three or four times the lifespan I should have, and got three or four times bigger than I should have before I finally faded and died. Also means most of my colony is related to me, at this point, and my great-granddaughter is the reigning queen. Indigo Cloud is the name of the colony."

There's a slight crease between Rosinante's brows as he contemplates all of this. Standing upright again, he slides the coat up over his shoulder and rests his hand on his hip.

"Wow. Well, congratulations, that sounds like quite the legacy," he replies as he tries to figure out exactly how and what to ask about the ... all of that.

"Are you from Earth?" Starting there sounds good. This must be an Earth thing, right? None of it makes much sense to him.

"Nope. Never heard of the place until I got here. Never smelled a human before, either. We call where I'm from the Three Worlds, but it's only one-- what is it, planet? Only one planet, with the three worlds of ground, sea, and sky contained in it."

"Oh. Not human," he replies, surprised. The guy looks human enough, right? Completely within the normal sort of variation he's used to, but he's glad Stone mentioned it before he could state that assumption of his aloud.

"Well, then I hope you don't mind being thrown in with so many of us," he says with a bit of a smile and a half-shrug. "What do your people call yourselves?"

"I'm a Raksura," Stone answers. "A shapeshifter, and an aerial predator. My other form has wings, and is a lot bigger than this one. I don't mind you people, though. I spent a lot of time traveling after my queen died, I'm used to spending time among other species. It's kind of funny watching you all not consider that you're not alone in the universe, though. Most of you don't seem to have any other intelligent species on your planets."

Well, cool! A new race. A shapeshifter race at that, which is absolutely astounding in his mind. Doesn't everyone dream of that sometimes? The ability to take any form at will? His smile grows into a grin.

"Never heard of the Raksura, that's a new one for me. It's those people from Earth who aren't used to other types of people," he says. "We have several where I'm from. No flying shapeshifters, though! Not as far as I've seen. Why choose to look human, then? You could be anything!"

"I can only turn into the two shapes," Stone says, tilting his head with a wry smile. "And I didn't get to pick either one. Conformation is determined by bloodlines. I've never met a shapeshifter that had more than two forms. Historians think that the groundling one-- this one I'm in right now-- that form was used to prey on other groundlings, back when our ancestors actually ate people. That's what the Fell use it for. We're born scaly and winged, though."

"Like dragons." Real ones, though. Somewhere out there in another world, there are actual dragons - Raksura, rather - living their lives, and they're nothing like the ones in those old stories. That's the sort of spite toward his ancestors that makes him smile.

"That is, if you know what those are. Maybe you don't. Different worlds, after all."

"Never heard of them," Stone answers cheerfully enough. He likes hearing stories about other people's cultures almost as much as he enjoys talking about his own, so he suggests: "Why don't you fill me in?"

"Oh, just stories. Myth. Enormous reptiles with scales and wings that breathe fire and eat virgins and hoard treasure and rule the land, sea, and sky all at once. The sort of creature that people of status like to associate themselves with, to keep the people below them afraid and in awe," he says with a shrug.

Very casually, as if it doesn't matter at all. It doesn't matter here anyway. Shouldn't.

"But you're the real thing, kind of, only you're here looking at clothing and not trying to eat everyone," he says with a shrug and a half-smile. "So I'd say you're all right."

"Huh." Stone considers that, fascinated. Groundlings have the most interesting stories. "Sounds more like the Fell than the Raksura. No interest in virgins, and from what I'm told we're terrible about trading away really valuable things. Besides, most of us aren't really all that big. We keep growing as we get older, and I'm older than pretty much everybody. Also, no fire. That sounds really uncomfortable."

"I didn't make it up," he chuckles. "And I suppose it has to be coincidence, anyway. Maybe lots of worlds have stories about large creatures with wings and scales. Or maybe some of them out there could fly from world to world."

Space dragons, the ultimate creature. Actually, that would be truly fascinating, the more he thinks about it. Like sea kings, but of the skies beyond planets? Huh.

"Never tried that," Stone admits. "Going too high means the air changes. That never bothered me that much, but I know it bothers Arbora if you take them too high, too fast, and there was never any reason to go that high anyway." He looks thoughtful. "Our ancestors had machines they kept higher up in the sky than we ever bothered to go. One that makes a portal to transport people around the Three Worlds. Who knows what else they could have done."

Now that is an idea, now that he knows other planets even exist.

"I don't know the first thing about flight, to be honest," he says. "I know some people in my world have ways to fly, but it's not really something most of us have access to. I guess the sea keeps us busy enough."

And why fly? Ships are easy enough to build, buy, or hire passage on. With so much water and so little land, there isn't much use for flight. That, and - well, it might be hard to keep people from getting to the Red Line if flight was widespread.

Huh. Hadn't thought about that before.

"You mostly use this form while around here, I guess, right?"

"I shift into my other one for a while whenever I get the chance, go for a little flight or a dip in the bay. This shape feels too small sometimes." He plucks at his own shirt with an expression of mild annoyance. "You're from the sea?"

"If you mean from an island, yeah. Fishmen and merfolk are from the sea itself. The rest of us are born on land, but the world's mostly water."

He was, of course, not born on an island either, but details.

"And I've worked on ships most of my life. Can't remember the last time I was off the ocean for this long."

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