ᴇᴜɢᴜᴇɴᴇ ʜɪᴄᴋs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
preseance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
logsinthenight2019-08-04 07:19 pm
preseance) wrote in logsinthenight2019-08-04 07:19 pm
sunday dinner+wake! come one, come all! (bohemian rhapsody plays in the distance)
characters: gene+wanda+anyone else who cares to come
location: the church
date/time: the afternoon of sunday the 4th, possibly until the wee hours of the 5th.
content: eating, drinking, being merry. may or may not involve some underaged drinking/smoking/death refs.
warnings: none yet! will update if that changes.
( around three in the afternoon, folks will get a little chime from their tablets. it's a simple text from @/hicks that says — )
Hello to the old faces and welcome to the new ones. There's dinner on at the Church, if you're of a mind to join, around 1800. Six PM. RSVPs aren't necessary, so long as you bring an appetite. Just mind the rats. If you need an escort or haven't been here before, please let us know.
[ wanda’s username pops up next into the mass text, a rather blunt @/witch: ]
Eugene has organized the hallowed place strategically for supper, but tonight’s attitude I think shall proclaim it the first instead of the last. And I hope you’ve all got a thirst as well as an appetite — this is no sit down dinner. We are having a wake. Irish, East Orthodox, faerie — whatever tradition you might like to think of it. Contraband spirits liberated from the tavern, and memorabilia to celebrate all our lives.
Some of us have suffered for a month. Some have wounds still fresh and bleeding.
Let’s take a night off, shall we?
⚰️🍴🍺🍲🍗🍴⚰️
THE WAKE ➽
[ a sign above the church doors hangs, paper draped and scrawled in black shoe polish, some mixed brand of mutiny, heresy, and irreverent joy:
“ABANDON ALL WOES, YE WHO ENTER HERE.”
once inside, the responders to the invitation will see a new, brighter cast over the church, not unlike a spell woven from stone to stone, twixt and twain through and ‘neath all the cobwebs, and what once was ghostly now glows. on every standing surface there are extra candles, flames borrowed from the bonfire and flickering in a way that seems to invite — come closer, be warm, be full — and their light seems somehow brighter and less mournful than the prayer candles at the front of the pews.
the little flames adorn and catch the true stars of the main hall now: not the pews, not the decayed paintings of virgins or martyrs, but tokens hung carefully just so along the walls, over candelabras, on pedestals, over fountains and baths long empty of any holy water. tokens of the deceased, some somber, some with a sense of humor, all with affection:
a cowboy hat, hanging crookedly off the corner of the priest’s altar.
dog tags, a medical kit, enshrined in nocturnal flowers.
a rather large plastic sword, draped in twine with keys (a keyblade? perhaps).
little girl patterns holding hands, strung together, all in black… an attempt at shadow children?
several piles of chocolate gold coins, fit for any treasure hunter to indulge in.
taped and brightly lit, a picture of a rose drawn in crayon; the inscription reads only “family.”
a sadly empty pack of cigarettes… something shared in this church once, and not forgotten.
the list goes on, so many small and precious and luminous items that mean something to your character, to wanda, to gene, to the moments in between — something to touch you or make you laugh, snort while you eat and have a whiskey or vodka or juice.
because you do not — and we mean do not — have a respectable, rowdy wake without a drink in your hand. help yourself. ]
THE FOODENING ➽
[ the food is on a bench along one wall. it's not much — the rats have been getting into the supplies, and it's with that in mind that any cooking has been done with a keen eye towards minimal waste. but there are a few recognizable earth dishes. mostly things from the deep south of america, the cultural melting pot of new york and various areas across europe. feel free to say that your character's favourite dish (within reason!) made it to the table somehow.
in lieu of having an actual table, characters are encouraged to stand or sit on the pews to eat so as to mingle some with others. there's a gramophone in one corner softly playing playing... the greatest hits of queen? odd selection for a church. maybe someone will be inspired to dance?
after the party, there's some clean-up to do! who wants to stay behind and help clear and clean dishes and pack up food? maybe it's time for a food fight? either way, tag around, have fun and remember: the real treasure is the friends you make along the way! or... the rats you stomp on? mind those pesky critters! they're hungry too! ]
location: the church
date/time: the afternoon of sunday the 4th, possibly until the wee hours of the 5th.
content: eating, drinking, being merry. may or may not involve some underaged drinking/smoking/death refs.
warnings: none yet! will update if that changes.
( around three in the afternoon, folks will get a little chime from their tablets. it's a simple text from @/hicks that says — )
Hello to the old faces and welcome to the new ones. There's dinner on at the Church, if you're of a mind to join, around 1800. Six PM. RSVPs aren't necessary, so long as you bring an appetite. Just mind the rats. If you need an escort or haven't been here before, please let us know.
[ wanda’s username pops up next into the mass text, a rather blunt @/witch: ]
Eugene has organized the hallowed place strategically for supper, but tonight’s attitude I think shall proclaim it the first instead of the last. And I hope you’ve all got a thirst as well as an appetite — this is no sit down dinner. We are having a wake. Irish, East Orthodox, faerie — whatever tradition you might like to think of it. Contraband spirits liberated from the tavern, and memorabilia to celebrate all our lives.
Some of us have suffered for a month. Some have wounds still fresh and bleeding.
Let’s take a night off, shall we?
THE WAKE ➽
[ a sign above the church doors hangs, paper draped and scrawled in black shoe polish, some mixed brand of mutiny, heresy, and irreverent joy:
once inside, the responders to the invitation will see a new, brighter cast over the church, not unlike a spell woven from stone to stone, twixt and twain through and ‘neath all the cobwebs, and what once was ghostly now glows. on every standing surface there are extra candles, flames borrowed from the bonfire and flickering in a way that seems to invite — come closer, be warm, be full — and their light seems somehow brighter and less mournful than the prayer candles at the front of the pews.
the little flames adorn and catch the true stars of the main hall now: not the pews, not the decayed paintings of virgins or martyrs, but tokens hung carefully just so along the walls, over candelabras, on pedestals, over fountains and baths long empty of any holy water. tokens of the deceased, some somber, some with a sense of humor, all with affection:
a cowboy hat, hanging crookedly off the corner of the priest’s altar.
dog tags, a medical kit, enshrined in nocturnal flowers.
a rather large plastic sword, draped in twine with keys (a keyblade? perhaps).
little girl patterns holding hands, strung together, all in black… an attempt at shadow children?
several piles of chocolate gold coins, fit for any treasure hunter to indulge in.
taped and brightly lit, a picture of a rose drawn in crayon; the inscription reads only “family.”
a sadly empty pack of cigarettes… something shared in this church once, and not forgotten.
the list goes on, so many small and precious and luminous items that mean something to your character, to wanda, to gene, to the moments in between — something to touch you or make you laugh, snort while you eat and have a whiskey or vodka or juice.
because you do not — and we mean do not — have a respectable, rowdy wake without a drink in your hand. help yourself. ]
THE FOODENING ➽
[ the food is on a bench along one wall. it's not much — the rats have been getting into the supplies, and it's with that in mind that any cooking has been done with a keen eye towards minimal waste. but there are a few recognizable earth dishes. mostly things from the deep south of america, the cultural melting pot of new york and various areas across europe. feel free to say that your character's favourite dish (within reason!) made it to the table somehow.
in lieu of having an actual table, characters are encouraged to stand or sit on the pews to eat so as to mingle some with others. there's a gramophone in one corner softly playing playing... the greatest hits of queen? odd selection for a church. maybe someone will be inspired to dance?
after the party, there's some clean-up to do! who wants to stay behind and help clear and clean dishes and pack up food? maybe it's time for a food fight? either way, tag around, have fun and remember: the real treasure is the friends you make along the way! or... the rats you stomp on? mind those pesky critters! they're hungry too! ]
;A; <3
"Uh... It's cool. Just... yeah." She let's out a mirthless laugh. "This place really sucks huh?"
no subject
It's easy enough to point out. He may not be much for parties, but he's here anyway. Meanwhile, all around them are people enjoying food and drink, dancing, and trying to get over some of the stress of just being here surrounded by darkness. The whole beacon of light thing is a perfect metaphor, in addition to being their reality.
no subject
Her demeanor relaxes a bit, and under her mask, a small smile is forming.
“Yeah… this is really nice. Kinda feels like everything’s gonna be like, fine.”
no subject
"Everyone here I've met so far just wants to get along and work together, and this is proof of it," he says as he gestures toward the room around them. "Even after what we just went through. It's better than where I was before this," he admits, if only to help continue to put her at ease. If she saw his death without him catching her at it, then she might understand - but she was probably too busy preventing others from seeing her own.
no subject
“Oh uh well… I’m glad you’re here now then. You’re real neat.” She says after a moment of silence, patting him on the arm.
no subject
The arm-pat and compliment, though, that throws him off, and his eyes widen in pleased, but confused, surprise. "Neat? I don't think I've ever had someone call me that. You sure?"
no subject
“Wait real!? Like… never? Cause yeah I’m sure you’re a real neat dude.”
no subject
But this is someone who doesn't know about any of that, and who thinks he's just neat! That's great! That's the sort of thing that will make his day, and he's perfectly fine just showing that openly in his smile.
"Uh, but - so who have you met who was causing problems?" he asks, concerned.
no subject
“And oh just like. That Rafe dude… though he’s just like. An asshole. Not like…“ She makes a stabbing motion.
“There’s this shadow dude though… whatever his name is. I think his username is subzero??? That like, tried to spill my soup??? Which like, what the fuck. Then he like, teleported me on the Grandmaster and honestly if I like… die one day, I bet it’s gonna be him. And then there’s this other kid like… freshman age??? He’s just fucking weird. Did the other shadow dude have a son? Cuz he’d be that son. Dude like literally yeeted me away from my grave which like. Fuck off??? Like seriously I wish he’d fuck off. What a dick.”
Have fun with that spiel.
no subject
Then wow does she just go off for a bit, but he listens. He's not officially responsible for anyone's safety, but it still matters to him. Her wording is a little hard to follow, though. Even if some of this stuff is supposedly translated right, that doesn't help him understand what "freshman age" refers to, or what yeeting is.
"The guy calling himself Subzero is Kuai's brother," he says with a frown. "Seems there's a dispute over which of them owns that title. I'd be cautious around him, if you can. He might actually be, uh-"
He makes a similar stabbing motion.
no subject
“God… he gives off that vibe though, considering how many times he’s tried to fight me for some reason???” She says, rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Like, chill dude. We’re all dead anyways. “
There is a reason Coraline you dumbass.no subject
"Try to stay away from him. If he keeps bothering you, let me know. I'll try to keep a closer eye on him, too." One death was more than enough. None of them deserve extra ones.
no subject
“Sorry… just…” More laughter.
no subject
Oh, he's seen hysteria before, he recognizes it, but yikes. He tries for a sympathetic smile anyway. "Sounds like a plan. Take care, all right? I think I'm gonna head out, this place is a little too... busy for me."
Not that she scared him off! She didn't, and he blinks, realizing that he might have come across that way. "I've just never been a fan of parties," he adds.
idk why but Rosi saying yikes is so fucking funny
“Oh uh… yeah… sorry… I’ll see you… around?” She says after a moment of silent fidgeting. God why is she such a fuckup.
his face says |: but his mind says D8
God, now he sounds weird. Putting his social anxiety into words is not something he does often and he doesn't owe her the explanation, but he'd feel bad just ghosting and letting her think it's her fault. Partly because she's just a kid, and partly because in a small place like this, he feels particularly strongly that he should make an effort to get along with people. Especially one who thinks he's neat, for some reason.
ROSI TT^TT
“I don’t wanna like, bother you, and I still want to talk to Gene so it’s like, super fine.” She says quickly, hoping to salvage this mess of a social interaction. Was she actually planning on talking to Gene this soon? Not really. Is she going to try to now? Maybe.