logsinthenight | On Golden Sands

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rosinante donquixote (lauren)

On Golden Sands

characters: anyone!
location: beacon, above the waterline
date/time: mostly an open post for everyone who didn't go to the station july 8 - 15th, but open for july in general!
content: a catchall and mingle (and idle hand-wringing for the rest of us)
warnings: the usual: mark your subject lines as needed

the open event post is a little daunting and full of top-levels for those who went undersea sailing, as it were. i figured i'd make a space off in a corner for anyone who wants to hit up other topside folks without wading (heh) through the event text - and also give space for threads before and after so as not to flood the event!

i'm turning off emails on this entry for my own sanity but i'll check periodically for toplevels and put up my own toplevel a little later in the day!

come on in, the not-the-water's fine!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Somehow, Rosinante had a fleeting optimistic idea while down in the station. Maybe, just maybe they'd blow the beast up with Weaver's bomb and it would all be over quickly, and they'd get to come back and celebrate.

Instead, Law was nearly killed (again, so soon) and while Rosinante himself wasn't injured badly, he knows there's something wrong. He can feel it - that strange, horrible craving he wishes he could ignore. Law smelled so strongly of blood as they brought him out of the room, and he hates that in that moment, and now in his memory, it was something he liked.

So here's to another awful year in this awful shitty place, he thinks, as he comes down to join Cao Pi. Alcohol might not actually help but what else is he going to do? He needs to get away for a bit, let Law rest, maybe bring food back for him but so much for them drinking together when alcohol and painkillers are a pretty bad idea (even he knows that much).

He sits at the bar and rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the wooden surface, then reaches for a drink. The dark red is kind of enchanting.

"Is this the stuff you ordered with the portal?"

He wouldn't have blamed Rosinante for making himself scarce for a while, but Cao Pi is somewhat glad to see him. "No, actually. I do have that, but this is from the special bottle I was given." He reaches over and grabs said bottle, setting it neatly so that anyone can see the liquid inside. He's been pouring it and yet it's still mostly full. In fact, he'll pour himself a glass to match and...lo, still full.

"...how is he?"

"He knows better than I do. ...I'm not planning on staying long," he adds, just to be clear. The struggle between wanting to get his mind off everything that just happened and wanting to be at Law's side every moment isn't one he relishes.

"But I think he'll be all right," he says, as he has a sip of the wine. Maybe it's purely idiotic optimism, but he refuses to consider any alternative.

The wine tastes off. Not watered-down, for it has the body that wine should have on his tongue, but it tastes weak. He frowns and tries another sip, but it's no different.

Cao Pi notices the change in expression. "Something the matter?"

Just in case, he roots around behind the bar and finds one of the actual precious bottles of wine brought there on request. If something is wrong with his magic drink he can try a different variety, but...hmm. He sips and finds nothing wrong with the glass he just poured himself. Oh well, not his problem unless Rosinante asks for something better.

"Just thinking," he says, shaking his head. "Wine's pretty good. Who would've thought the spirits could come up with something like that?"

Now, he doesn't require food be especially tasty in order to just eat it and move on. He's had his fair share of meals that were just rice, or overcooked white fish - but there's still a difference between those bland flavors and the emptiness this drink seems to have. At least it's not bad, so he'll drink it. He does still want to get at least a little drunk, and maybe that will help. Maybe he'll root around in the storage later and see if he can't find some leftover roast from one of Soldat's group meals. Maybe that will be good enough.

All right then. Zihuan prides himself on being able to read people but Rosinante has been notoriously hard to read all along, and now there's the added stress of literally everything, so he shrugs it off as needing to calibrate his reading ability. Also possibly wine.

"I wonder where they got it," he says honestly. "Between this and the man with his enchanting string instrument, it's quite unusual. The spirits haven't been in the habit of giving us items both enchanted and useful." A sniff. "It's definitely not my birthday, so..."

Hang on, birthday. That reminds him of something. Hmm. Where's his tablet, what's the calendar?

Edited (the fuck are words) 2020-07-21 18:11 (UTC)

No, it's not Cao Pi's birthday, but Rosinante doesn't offer up that it's his. It's not out of some desire for nobody to know, he just doesn't want anyone acting like he deserves something for being present on a date. It's not like he's even alive for it. Good excuse to drink, though.

"I got a compass," he offers instead, and retrieves it from a pocket and sets it on the bar. "Points to the bonfire from wherever I am. We've been here a year, you know," he offers as a possible explanation. Why the spirits care or would mark such an anniversary, he's not sure.

That hint leads him to figure out exactly what's nagging at his memory, thanks man. It takes a moment, but then Cao Pi gets that universal look of "aha" dawning on his face. "Yes, we have," he acknowledges. "It's been a year since we witnessed each others' deaths." And that's when his eyes come up, with a pointed look. "I believe at the time I said something about the date being terribly unlucky. I had no idea it could get even worse a year later."

"Yeah," he says, drawn out as a suffering sigh of acknowledgment. "At some point I have to figure the universe just has it out for me."

It does not, of course, for he's nowhere near significant enough to think the universe cares an ounce about how good or bad things are for him. Maybe the universe just has it out for all of them. Darkly, he wonders if the world eaters are some sort of solution to that problem.

But no, of course, life is a gift and all that. Just hard to be positive about much today. "Cheers," he says anyway as he lifts his tasteless drink.

Cao Pi sets his tablet back down and takes up his glass to match that toast. "We're not as dead as we could be." That's all he's got at a time like this. After watching Matt's lantern just vanish, he's totally not down with anything anymore. Just drinking for now.

"And there's plenty left to do with our un-lives." But right now he feels less motivated to think about all that lies ahead of them than usual. Law gravely injured, others dead, and this monster that destroys worlds was trapped and not fully developed. He's not feeling extremely optimistic.

He downs another gulp of the bland wine and doesn't fully manage to hide his grimace, but at least it goes well with the subject. "Guess I'd be twenty-eight."

Yes, a decent enough topic. "Is that so? We are roughly the same age, then. Though, I mark the passage at the new year, as is customary, and that was a few months ago." Nothing big, really. "I like the idea of continuing to keep track. Without a reset, we could go on to brag about being hundreds of years old, perhaps."

"I guess it counts if the soul lives on, even if the body is dead." It's a sort of life. He goes back and forth with himself as to how much it counts; how alive he really feels. But his mind is intact enough to ask that question, so maybe that's good enough.

"I can't imagine leading an entire empire at my age. I feel like my career was still just getting started." The career he'd abruptly bailed on, but such is life.

"Hmm." Something to muse on over a sip of wine. Rosinante may not taste much but it'll still get him blitzed pretty well. "Well, if Solis was an indication, these half-life bodies do not age, so at least we'll still look good."

Not reminding himself that Dr. Solis is probably dead for good now...

"I suppose for us, in my time, there was a sense of urgency," Zihuan sighs. "My father's true death, in our original timeline, was at sixty-five. If one waits until fifty to take control, one misses out on some prime years of ruling." That smirk, again. "Or in his case, never taking the throne at all. Seize your opportunity, and all that."

Some part of him is aware, thanks to the folks from Wa, that he himself never even saw 40, but that's even less auspicious than the current topic.

Yeah, there's certainly a reason he's still drinking it. If anything, it's more dangerous. Easy to forget it's not just water. As for bodies looking good, well - he'll just let Cao Pi gloat even if that isn't his intent. Most here don't have the skeletal issue he currently does.

"Suppose so. I'm probably just not cut out for it. Ruling's no goal of mine, never has been. A small command is fine."

Yeah one of these days that secret might out, Rosinante. Meanwhile, enjoy your weirdness.

"Naturally," he says smoothly. "For every emperor there are cadres of fine, capable commanders who aspire not to rule but to serve, and do it well. The world would be a far worse place if we all wanted the same role." No shade, really. He respects his retainers, especially those who knew without having to had it spelled out for them that some rulers aren't worth following and some are.

"Agreed. And there are already plenty unfit to rule but who do want it. Wouldn't want to add to that mess. I've seen my share of bad calls by leadership." He has another drink, this time with no indication it tastes off. Once you brace for it, it's fine, after all.

"Though I guess that probably goes the other way around, too. Probably plenty of people who'd lead well if they had to, but wouldn't do so by choice."

What a fine mental exercise to keep their minds off the horrors below the water. "Ah, in the first case, you are absolutely correct. I have met and conquered more than my share. If only I was old enough to enter my father's army and add to the defeats of tyrants." A casual tip of his head, and another sip. What Rosinante can't tell by taste is that this wine is excellently potent, so regardless of the quality it sure does pack a punch. "As to the latter, who can say? Perhaps it is true but if there is no way to go around asking every villager and every petty functionary whether they would like to rule the land and gauging their interest...well. It seems like something best left in the realm of philosophy, rather than practical research."

The more he drinks the bigger his words get, apparently.

Meanwhile the more Rosinante drinks, the more he seems to just slouch in his seat. It's hard to even attribute that to alcohol, really, considering this is truly just a miserable day. Besides, it takes a lot of drink for him to start noticing the effects.

"Sure," he agrees. "And I guess it's impossible to know if they'd truly be a good leader until you put them in that position, which isn't likely to happen. Philosophy indeed. That said, I know you enjoy philosophy. Who here among us would make a good leader beside you? Not of Beacon necessarily, but in general."

It's a difficult question, one Cao Pi has to mull over. First of all, who's even left? He's going to quietly hope that the deaths they witnessed down below are reversible, else he'll really miss Matt. "That depends on what sort of leadership you mean," he casually cautions. "Command of forces, the ability to give orders and advice and have them followed? Oh, quite a few. Yourself, of course, the Inspector, the Counselor, the...uh..." Ah, shit, he forgot Minimus' title. It's the wine. "Really, anyone already used to having people listen to them when they make a demand or a suggestion. But true leadership?" Slyly smirking over the rim of his glass. "None, I have to admit."

None but himself? Well, it's not a surprise, really. Nobody else ever tried to step forward. A few suggestions about a council had been made, but then nobody really took the lead on that either. Fine with him, really. Too many interested would just mean butting heads.

"At least it's easy to manage as we are with how few of us are here," he says, pausing for another drink of the wine. "Of course, there's that kid who turned up while we were out, too. Diode."

Well there would have been more but...they're all dead. Every last one of them, sadly. Not that he says so, leaving the mystery for now.

"I heard something about a boy. A former keeper? I haven't looked into it yet, I have been trying to rest and sort out what we learned down there."

"As you should," he says with a nod. "But I ran into him by mistake, I guess. He was just out in the middle of town. Said he was the keeper around thirty years ago and seems to think he still deserves to be thought of as some kind of authority."

Which, trigger some deep skepticism. What is it with kids being keepers, too? Robin was young enough but this one looks half her age.

Yeah that's exactly what he's thinking, something worth saying aloud. "And he truly is a child? Honestly. Who chooses a Keeper and gives them so much responsibility over life and death? Or death and permanent death, either way. It's unreasonable." Oh no he's starting to get drunk and really speak his mind. "Perhaps if it were one of those who outlasted every other reset, if they are now gone, it will fall to us. Not that there's a place for a lighthouse keeper anymore..."

"Dr. Ingram's still here." If it were one of those who outlasted every other reset. But the statement is clearly not intended to be taken seriously - he even snorts at his own joke. Will, a keeper? Very funny.

"Think it's voluntary. Don't know who here'd volunteer. Doesn't matter now though. That lighthouse is long gone. Wasn't even much left in the rubble, I think a lot of it must've dumped into the lake."

worst birthday yet

that's a hard standard to top

watch, next year brings worse than cannibalism urges and law almost dying

bet on it

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