logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: COTTON CANDY HEARTS

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: COTTON CANDY HEARTS

characters: everyone.
location: amusement park.
date/time: august 17 - 31.
content: time to enjoy a little time at the carnival!
warnings: n/a. please use cw tags as needed.

oh come, take my hand, and run through playland...

It's clear in the past two days of fevered work, the spirits are up to something. Collecting rainbow wigs and pinstriped jackets, gathering food and preparing decorations. There's no getting them to reveal the secret, though — any attempt to ask only results in an ominous gesture of silence. However, characters won't have to worry about what the spirits are up to for too long, as on the start of the 17th each and every resident of Beacon will be delivered a note, inviting them to come out and enjoy themselves at the Amusement Park.

ALL FUN AND GAMES.

Over the last few days, some of the food tucked away in the General Store, The Invincible's stock room, and the kitchens of The Landmark may have gone missing - but not to worry, because here it is, all stocked at little booths within the amusement park, ready for sampling! The enticing aromas of fried batter and sugar wafts through the air, no matter where you are in the park. Find old favorites, from funnel cakes to fried pickles, popcorn to whole turkey legs - or try something new! Ever had a corn dog wrapped in curly fries? How about a deep fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a stick? One spirit, currently chewing on a crispy battered pine cone, even offers a unique suggestion - bring it anything you like and it will deep fry it for you. You do have to eat it, though, that's the catch, or the spirit will be very irate and might take something of yours later to deep-fry and leave on your pillow. Don't waste good food!

At the end of the row, tables have been covered in classy checkered red-and-white tablecloths, and piled with ingredients, and it looks like ovens formerly belonging to some ruined village housing have been dragged all the way out here and plugged in, and are now waiting and ready. There's flour (all purpose, pastry, chickpea, and others, and - no, that's just a pile of sand on that plate), plenty of butter and sugar and spices, all sorts of summer fruits, and more. It's a pie making contest! The judge is the Lunch Lady spirit, who hmms and ahhs and ohhhhs wisely as they pace back and forth along the tables, observing the pies being made and occasionally taking tiny little samples with tiny little forks when the pies are baked. How will they decide the winner? That's their secret, for now!

But their delicate little tasting session has left the pies mostly unscathed, which means it's time for the pie eating contest! A rowdy quartet of squirrel-like spirits cheers everyone on who wishes to participate, and they squeak and chatter at participants, bringing pie after pie after pie directly to whoever walks over. How many can you get down?

If food isn't your style, though, carnie spirits host a number of games scattered throughout the park. They whistle and wave you over, jump on your shoulder if small or yell at you with animated limbs from above if quite tall, urging in their musical tones for anyone and everyone to come on down and give the games a try! Toss balls at a set of colorful stacked bottles, and see how many you can knock down in a single throw, with candy and costume jewelry for rewards. Fling a ring into a booth and land it around the head of the stuffed animal you want to win, if your aim is good enough. There's even a duo dunk tank set up - over a large tub, two chairs are suspended, each with an attached bucket of softballs and a target over the head of the chair. You and a friend get to climb in and see who can dunk who first!

MUST BE THIS TALL TO RIDE.

A carnival isn't a carnival without some rides to test your bravery with, is it? Past where the food booths and skill games are set up, there are a selection of them set up, all providing various levels of thrills. There's a roller coaster, of course, that's been constructed of wood and makes a loud rattling noise as it drives you through the loops and hills. There's also a tilt-a-whirl, a gravitron, and a log flume, if you're still feeling the effects of the heat wave.

For those less interested in thrill seeking, there are also slightly tamer rides, like the bumper cars, a ferris wheel, and the tunnel of love. All of these rides have the innate feeling of danger that you'd find at any theme park or carnival, but they operate quite safely, albeit with some creaking.

COTTON CANDY HEARTS.

Away from the fun and excitement, the Fun House has also come back to life. There's something a great deal more ominous about it than the rest of the celebration, however — in fact, spirits will actively attempt to steer residents away. However, those determined to explore can still find their way inside.

To start, it doesn't seem that abnormal. A mirrored maze, flashing lights and creepy music. However, as they travel through the mirrored halls, they'll notice something. Their reflection doesn't necessarily follow their movements. Actually, it seems like it is trying to get closer. Maybe that isn't their reflection at all?

Trapped and lost in the maze, eventually the reflections will become full-fledged matching doppelgängers of any character that entered. It's hard to tell the difference between the fake and the actual thing, though the doppelgängers will not speak, only chase — and chase aggressively. They will grow more and more aggressive in trying to reach their double, willing to go through potential distractions if they have to. Cutting them down seems ineffective at best; as long as there are reflections, the doubles will keep coming, growing more and more bloodied as they "die". Ultimately, they will not stop until characters exit the maze or they reach their exact match.

As they reach their match, they will reach out and grab their heart. Literally, hand through the chest and everything. It's as excruciatingly painful as it sounds. The doppelgänger will smile a demented, satisfied grin, and disappear immediately after without a trace. Any character that got nabbed by their double will suffer from lantern malfunctions for the rest of the event. You're more than welcome to pick what malfunction and to what extent!

FIND YOUR FORTUNE

Characters that have braved wandering outside the relative warmth and activity of the the celebration will find the rest of the amusement park still a little grim. Dark, worn down, abandoned. Plenty of the rides seem ominous at best and dangerous at worst. In their searching, characters are likely to happen upon a fortune teller lingering in the shadows.

If they are brave enough to approach, they'll find there is no need for a coin. Upon spotting them, the fortune teller will creak into motion, offering a spiel in a slightly monotone robotic voice. It's a little unnerving, though what is the worst a robotic fortune teller can really do?

Well, it turns out, every fortune the fortune teller provides always comes true. Some of them are harmless, like a prediction that they will win their next game of darts or find a cherry in their blueberry pie. Some will get far more grim fortunes, that they will find glass in their next drink or that they will step on a nail. Worst of all are fortunes that essentially force a character to do what they would normally wouldn't, like confessing a dark secret to the next person they see.

While you are welcome to make up your fortune, you are also able to put your character's name here to get a mod-generated fortune. There will be potential clues for future explores in these fortunes, though there is also a chance of receiving something else, such as an injury or a strange happenstance. No one will receive death in their fortune!

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"What, you think it goes fast for me?" he counters with a laugh. "Doesn't have to be a race, then. We could make them actually crash or whatever they're supposed to do."

It'll be some slow-motion crashing if so but maybe that's for the best. Whatever the weight limit on this car is supposed to be, he absolutely exceeds it.

"World's slowest race," they suggest, sounding vaguely amused, but they do climb into the round car pen and gingerly step into one of the cars. (A red one, of course.) It creaks alarmingly but their feet don't go through the floor, so that's something, and they settle carefully in the seat. It's too small, but not quite as too small as it would be for Rosinante.

Edited (pronouns arg) 2020-08-27 19:53 (UTC)

"See? You fit fine!" By some definition of fine that doesn't quite qualify, but good enough is good enough.

"The ones in the scrapyard are bigger than these, so I know they probably were better at holding people. Must have gone a lot faster, too!" he says as he carefully presses the gas pedal, then presses a bit harder as it barely budges at first.

Don't mind the nonsense about cars, as he just spouts things stream-of-consciousness. That's totally normal, right?

He is kind of rambling. That's not really a Rosinante trait. Soldat eyes him briefly, but lets it go for now. Maybe he's on a sugar high or something. "These are toy cars. Basically."

They're careful about the gas pedal on theirs, too, but having actual experience driving cars (wow, who knew, they sure didn't) Soldat does get it moving and turning as smoothly as bumper cars ever actually go.

"Right, that makes sense. Just rides for the park, like how carousels have fake horses."

Cool. The car is slow, but considering the last time he floored it to make it go faster he ended up (not quite) breaking his nose, he's determined to be more careful this time. He turns, and it goes puttering in a wide arc, but ends up trying to straighten the wheel far too late and thunks into the side of the arena. He doesn't fall out so much as he abruptly falls downward in a collapse of splayed limbs across the top of the car.

"Are the real ones at least easier to drive?" he grumbles as he tries to sit up, and that's when he instead falls to the side and onto the ground.

"They are, actually," Soldat says, smothering their amusement so they don't get Rosinante more annoyed. It might help that they, too, are having a little trouble steering, in no small part because they are too big and heavy for the poor car. Mostly it doesn't want to turn, at all. "A lot easier. Also. I think these are meant to hit things. Like each other. So poor control is built in."

"Right. 'Bumper'," he says with an amused snort as he stands and dusts himself off, then scrunches himself back into the car.

"I still think it's really weird how nothing in this town is built for anyone bigger than all of you. Every time I think I've gotten used to it, something new comes up that's hard all over again just because I'm a couple feet taller. How'd you all end up so much the same? Same height, same species, all of it," he laments, only it's mostly rhetorical. Again, not the sort of thing he intended to say out loud and he kind of stops and squints at it having happened again, then sighs heavily. "Damnit."

Between the additional ramble and the expression and then the curse, Soldat is guessing something is up. "I don't know why we're all the same-- might be no one does, but I can guarantee asking the murder machine with probably less than a quarter of their memories isn't likely to get you an answer." They look back at the bumper car, spinning it slowly to face Rosinante more fully and maybe aim it to come bump, as is their intended purpose. Gently, though. They don't want to dislodge Rosi again. "I also don't know why you're talking so much, either. But I don't mind if you don't."

"Wasn't really meant to be a question for you," he says as Soldat comes to bump their car against his. It's gentle, the bumpers are springy, the car sort of bounces back a little, and Rosinante's expression lifts a little because yeah, right, fun - that's why he's here, not to gripe about his latest issue.

"I tried that fortune teller thing a bit ago and it gave me some weird, well, fortune, I guess. After that I just keep finding myself saying whatever I'd normally think to myself," he explains as he steers the car around and gets it going to some modest speed again.

"Oh. I got something like that yesterday, only it only lasted the day," Soldat muses, steering out of Rosinante's way for now, playing a little keep-away to see if Rosi can get his own cart moving enough to make bumping more fun. "Mine just made me a little cold, and then left me chocolate in my room. Pretty harmless."

"Well, aren't you lucky. Guess it figures though, it's not like luck is something I ever have much of," he sighs, then shuts his mouth. Focus on the driving, force his mind off conscious thoughts to verbalize.

And he can force himself to stop, he's finding, if he really puts his mind to it. Most of the time, anyway. It's why he hasn't run off to hide in the safety of his room at The Invincible just yet. "I do deserve to have fun sometimes," he grumbles as his thoughts become abruptly verbal once more. "And this is the closest thing we've had to the Night Market in months. Used to love when they'd visit."

Hm, how sharp can this thing turn at this speed? That's something he can test, as he digs his heels in against the floor of the car's interior to brace himself as he jerks the steering wheel hard toward Soldat's car, with a smirk quickly replacing the irritated scowl on his face.

Aw, Rosi. "Of course you deserve fun sometimes. Everybody does." They don't quite include themselves in that yet, but they have fun, anyway, albeit usually in a quiet kind of way. Case in point: watching Rosinante out of the corner of their eye tolerantly, and letting him come bump their car without being too obvious about it.

"Oof." They steer out of the way again, put-putting out of range, unless Rosinante continues to pursue. "I miss their jukebox. They had all sorts of things there not on Songbird or the one in the Invincible. I recorded a lot of them, but. Not all of them."

Look, whether that was allowed or not, he'll take it. All in the name of just goofing around for a bit. None of them get enough of that these days and he knows it. Morale is and has always been important in a situation as stressful as theirs.

He lets Soldat scoot off, mostly because these things only go so fast and chasing endlessly in circles doesn't seem like it's the point. He steers off at an angle, instead circling for another opportunity.

"Yeah, I guess they must have had a collection from a ton of different worlds. Probably a lot of their own favorites, since they knew better than we do how to get specific things. I hope we figure that out sometime. Maybe just use their equipment, if we can get it working again. I like the music we have well enough though, there's still a lot I haven't even listened to yet. You have any favorites?"

Soldat might be circling a little, themselves, looking for an opening of their own. "A lot of favorites. I have whole... folders of favorites. I don't think I could pick a single song. But I could share my collection with you, if you want. Not just on Songbird." They'd been collecting before they had access to Songbird, and continue to keep a lot of actual music files on their tablet, and backed up on a couple USB drives collected from around Beacon. Just in case Songbird someday goes away. "Do you have favorites?"

"Sure! I'd love more music," he replies cheerfully, though looking over at Soldat to say so results in him thunking straight into a wall. Oh well, the slow speed means it's not even that jarring. Just snaps his attention back to the car for a second as he steers it away. Is there a way to back this thing up? Not that he's discovered yet, but a round arena makes it so he doesn't really have to.

"And yeah, I have lots I like. Not sure how I could pick a single favorite either. Earth has a lot of great musicians. Nancy Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald..." He trails off as he double-checks his lantern after the not-quite crash, just out of habit.

"There's some cool guitar stuff on Songbird too," he continues. "Some of the acoustic music reminds me of home a bit more. Not that we didn't have electricity and all that, but some islands are more developed than others."

It's an intentional tangent and it takes some focus to get his mind on that track, rather than talking out loud about some of the songs stuck in his head lately. Look, when you've got the first dumb crush you've had in a good ten years, sometimes it's the cute love songs that catch your attention, but he's trying so hard not to bring that up.

Soldat smiles-- like really smiles-- at those names. They know all those names. "I know those. Those are from before HYDRA." (Those are from the best time in fuckin' history for music. You're biased, Sarge.) "I should share the rest of my swing collection with you." If he likes those, surely he'll like Glenn Miller and Cab Calloway, and maybe he'll get a kick out of the Andrews Sisters, even.

"I've been experimenting," they add, turning the car around to try and come at Rosinante from behind. "As much variety as I can. Some of it's simple guitar like that, some of it's. Really, really not." Look, the Asset really likes Nine Inch Nails... occasionally they do indulge it.

"Sounds like you better," he agrees. More fun music? Can't say no to that.

It takes a little for the car to get up to speed again. He tries for a sudden turn to throw Soldat off his tail, but nothing about this bumper car is actually capable of things like "sudden" or "abrupt" or really even arguably "maneuvering" so Soldat clips his car against the rear and sends him into a gentle spin. This time he holds on fine, though, and urges the car to keep with that arc of movement until it comes back around to smack into Soldat's. Maybe. Driving is hard.

"So when you say really not simple, like what? I've been listening to a bunch, I might have heard it."

The arc works, good job, Rosi. Soldat sees it coming and figures they can't actually get out of the way in time, so they take the hit, bracing themselves with knees and the metal hand. "Really not like guitar music. It's." They have no real way to describe it. They don't know the genre, really, and they can't really identify the instruments used. "Did you listen to anything called Nine Inch Nails?"

He expects the jolt of the collision - he's causing it, of course he expects it - but that doesn't mean he's immune to it. Maybe bumper cars just isn't the best game for him objectively as this time it throws him backward over the rear of the car on his butt, and it's only a quick scrabbling for the back of the seat with his fingers that keeps him from dumping onto the concrete floor.

But he's laughing, so maybe it's fine. "Shit, you have an unfair advantage," he mutters, another one of those thoughts that wasn't meant to be voiced at all.

Once he's recovered his seat and has his hands at the wheel again, he has to think back on the question. "Nine Inch Nails? I don't think so. If I did, I don't remember. Some of them I listen to thirty seconds of and then skip to the next one if it doesn't grab me right away so maybe, maybe not."

"How's it unfair?" Soldat asks with a smile. "Just cuz you don't fit right. That's not my fault."

They drive out of range, for now, aiming for a spot of keep-away, letting Rosinante chase them again. "If you like quiet guitar and jazz, you probably wouldn't like that," Soldat offers with half a smile. "It's very loud and kind of. Metal-sounding. Well, most of it. Some of it's quieter, but not in the same way as Elle Fitzgerald. It's not acoustic."

"Metal-sounding? Like... a sword hitting armor? What does metal sound like?" he wonders out loud. "No, I'm sure you don't mean that but I don't really think I know what you do mean. Still, if you like a lot of the same music I like, I don't know why you'd think I wouldn't like that one."

Only way to know is to try it, which he figures he'll do after he gets at least one more good hit in here with the bumper car. Maybe. He'll give it his best go.

They don't have the right kind of vocabulary to describe industrial genre music, but Rosinante is one of the few people who know about the Asset, so they... suppose they can explain. There doesn't seem to be anyone else close enough to overhear. "Because it's not me who likes it. It's the Asset. Its taste is not... the same as mine."

"Ah." He nods. "Darker? Angrier? I don't - I know enough about the Asset to guess at what that means. Big assumptions, but am I far off?"

One last attempt to crash this dumb car into Soldat's, he decides as he floors the gas pedal, not that it does a whole lot for the speed. "I need a cigarette," he announces bluntly, then snorts. "Goddamn fortune teller."

Soldat is distracted, reaching into their jacket for their tablet to maybe play some of it to show Rosinante, so while they see the ram coming, they don't have time to get out of the way. What they can do is make an undignified little yip and grab the side of the car and hope they don't drop the tablet.

They don't, but it's a near thing, and Rosinante bumps their car right up against the side of the ring. "You win," they say with a sheepish grin.

"You let me," he replies. "Well. Or maybe you didn't, but I don't think I did anything special. Anyway, I'm just glad I got to try one of these dumb things out," he says, and gives the car a joking pat of affection once it has come to a full stop.

His toe catches on the lip of the bumper as he tries to stand, and he tumbles straight to the ground, but the bumper car is also a convenient handhold to stand up with. Once successfully on two feet again, he heads out of the arena so he can get his cigarette lit without anyone else who might want to play trying to knock him over.

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