Event Log: Kissmas

[hadrielmods]

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Kissmas event!
Where: All around the city
When: February 14th-February 20th
Warnings: Kissing! Ew! Snow! Fun! Ugly sweaters! Somewhere in between!

Thanks to Conner's meddling, Delight has decided that it's high time for another of her events- and this one has a bit of a romantic twist, so at least it's, uh, sort of holiday appropriate!

On the morning of the fourteenth, everyone will wake up to a fresh pile of snow on the ground. Unlike Fear's event a year and change ago, this snow is powdery and light and festive- though still definitely a bit cold! To help counterbalance this, there are also plenty of ugly sweaters stocked in various buildings to keep you warm.

In addition, some various sprigs of mistletoe will start appearing over random thresholds. These won't be limited to public places, however- you may find a few of them in your own home! Any two people (at some discretion of course) who find themselves underneath it will experience a strong desire to kiss one another- be it a platonic peck on the lips or something a bit more intimate. The compulsions can be resisted and laughed off of course, but that's no fun at all!

But the fun can't last forever! Extended Kissmas ends on the twentieth, and while the snow and mistletoe will disappear, our memories and ugly sweaters will linger on forever!

► This log covers February 14th-February 20th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you get, uh, smooched to death, then let us know here!

Comments

[war_itself]

Quill has trudged her way through cold sludge and piles of offensively garish clothing to not even get a hello at the door? Bloody typical. This is what the postman must feel like when she throws adverts back in his face.

"Let me in and you'll find out," she snipes back, pointedly adjusting the large bag slung over her shoulder. She'd rather freeze to death than give up every last shred of dignity to one of those horrible things suddenly littering the shops, so at first she'd simply refused to cave to this body's displeasure with the current temperature. But at some point while foraging for supplies she'd come across a coat that at least looks like she murdered something for it. Is Marian going to be paranoid about fur too? Well, it's either that or food.

[einselective]

"Right. Right," Marian mutters, opening the door to usher Quill and her bag of supplies in. "Who knows... what else is out there... come in, come in."

Aside from the obvious lights everywhere, and window blinds closed, the only other thing of note is that table is covered in pages and pages of neatly written notes and equations. Marian's had to keep busy with something, and in the absence of a properly equipped lab, theorizing over the Door and how it could be bringing people in from all over the multiverse could at least keep her busy.

It's really not that cold in here, especially with all the extra heat radiating from the lamps , but Marian's clearly miserable anyway from the way she's bundled up. Low on sleep too, slouched over and fumbling to lock the door once Quill's inside.

[war_itself]

Quill rolls her eyes in passing at Marian's paranoid muttering - what does she think is hiding in the snow, sentient frostbite? - as she enters and sets down the bag on the nearest table before taking in her surroundings. The obsessive collection of lights and consequent lack of shadows immediately stops her in her tracks and she feels herself tensing when she realizes this is what we should have done. Once again she has to wonder just what it was that Marian encountered before coming here.

Oh but the other woman wasn't kidding when she said she needed supplies urgently. "Is the snow psychically sapping your life force or something?" Would anyone here be surprised if it did. "You look worse than my students on Monday morning," she comments, blunt but factual. And still wearing that bulky device underneath the blanket, she notes with interest. It must be something very important, perhaps life support of some kind? But that's why she couldn't resist her request for assistance, isn't it, the chance to find out more about this high-strung scientist.

[einselective]

"Physically. Second law of thermodynamics, heat always spontaneously flows from hot to cold," Marian mutters again. Frankly it's a little over the top to be associating that with snow, but she's too tired to realize she's sounding a bit crazy.

"Doesn't bode well for anyone. Anyone. Better to stay inside," she adds, a bit more clearly, coming back over to the table. She doesn't seem really convinced but suggests dismally, "Maybe it'll pass... soon..."

[war_itself]

Did she just get lectured on a basic law of physics by a human? In response to a throwaway comment about the snow? She should probably stop being surprised by Marian's bizarre behavior some time soon. "Thanks for the high school physics lesson, Doctor," she retorts, but doesn't bother wasting too much good venom on it. Priorities.

"The last time they changed the city's appearance it lasted almost two weeks. You're not gonna make it that long if you don't learn to relax a little." Good thing she has chosen to turn to Quill for help, really. She removes a small jar of instant coffee from the bag; she knows the bar has the real stuff but this is useful for suspicious assholes turning their houses into fortresses. And in the other hand she has a bottle of a clear liquid, labelled Vodka. She presents her gifts to Marian with a satisfied smirk, pretty sure she's the first person to think of putting liquor in coffee.

[einselective]

The prospect of hot coffee seems like a small blessing. Hot liquids. It won't change what's going on outside, but it might make her feel a little warmer, at least. It's so cold. Vodka on the other hand... well, that's a different kind of warm that Quill is in the mood for, it seems. Or thinks Marian needs?

She'd like to make a snippy retort right back, but as soon as she starts the sentence... "You asked if it... never mind. I'll get the water started." She says flatly, heading into the kitchen area. None of the furnishings are quite right, but Marian's a smart enough cookie to figure out the appliances easily despite the alien markings and symbols.

"I ... have been relaxing," she adds, nodding her head at the reams of notes. There had been no time for theorizing when everything started going horribly wrong, and where she'd gone through the gate... she shivers again, curling her arms around her under the blanket while she waits for the kettle to boil. This was really the first time she could sit and write down some thoughts, ideas, new concepts. Even if she didn't have anyone to share them with or publish, not here, it was still one small good thing.

[war_itself]

Alright, you're welcome, no need to voice any sort of appreciation for Quill's thoughtful help. She shakes her head to herself, mentally discarding any expectation of normal, courteous behavior from Marian. Nobody saw that put upon pout, there.

She makes room on the table for the bottles, picking up some of the notes to leaf through. There's some fascinating stuff, the first real proof that Marian is as clever as she said. It may even be a little over her head, in places, as there wasn't much time for truly advanced speculative physics during the war. Or... is it speculative? She tilts her head, going through more of the notes with great interest. "Hard at work trying to understand the Door, are you?" That seems a safe bet, anyway.

[einselective]

"Of course there's no way to test anything here, no facilities of any useful capacity," Marian says, oblivious to Quill's displeasure. Talking about research is good too. Keeps her mind off the terrible weather outside.

Some sections of the work have multiple conflicting versions, since she's not sure which theory is correct. Some just trail off and are unfinished as she finds a mistake or is unsure where to continue onward. And here or there, there's some in-progress sketches of different variations on some kind of detection device, though not too much has been filled in on the details yet, leaning more heavily on the theory and concept at this point.

"But if we even knew where or what it was, really, that would be a step in the right direction," she continues, pouring out the hot water and bringing a couple cups back to the table, spooning out some instant coffee for both of them. It's not really a secret that she's interested in that much. She'd even discussed it in detail with a couple people. "What happens after that we'll probably have to figure out as we go."

[war_itself]

Looks like she has a real nerd on her hands here, she's actually kind of impressed. There's no doubt now that Marian will be a helpful resource to keep on her side. "Good thinking," she agrees as she considers the tentative ideas on a detection device. "Have you got experience working with limited materials?"

Not losing sight of her real objective though, Quill sets the notes aside and adds a generous helping of alcohol to both cups. Drink up, doctor.

[einselective]

Marian gives Quill a bit of a look when she adds the vodka, but fine. Just one drink. The coffee is terrible, but it's something warm... and alcohol in the hot liquid goes to your head really fast.

"I had a lab of my own. Millions of dollars in infrastructure, apparatus... State of the art," she frowns, staring down at the table. Doesn't seem proud of it now, though, only morose. The answer to that one... is a definite no. "You?"

[war_itself]

That's the idea. If she won't go out to the bar, the bar will just have to come to her. Quill notes her look and counters it with a smug little nod and raise of her own cup, fully aware that the drink is kind of awful. They're in an ancient war zone, she'll get over it. At least Marian doesn't have to worry about being the only one headed for inebriation.

Sounds like she was someone important, or at least rich. Must be a real bummer, being stuck in a wasteland and making do with scrap metal after all that. Not that Quill can sympathize, and she snorts. "You could say that. No state of the art labs out on the battlefield, if you didn't know how to rewire your gun with a bit of exploded landmine and some spit you got to keep fighting with your fists." Ah, good times.

[einselective]

Marian cups her hands around the mug and takes another couple sips, eyeing Quill with renewed curiosity. Better than having her mind on her old lab.

"You were caught up in some kind of conflict?" She knows Quill is smart, she was able to more than keep up in their brief physics discussion some time ago, but it seems hard to imagine someone with that kind of academic knowledge would be involved in any kind of fighting.

[war_itself]

"I led an army," she says, wistful levity replaced by steely resolve and pride for a people dead and gone. "The conflict was centuries old." And ended brutally and without meaning. Sometimes she thinks that's the worst part. Generations of Quill fought for their freedom, just for them all to be slaughtered in a single day by an indifferent outsider. She quickly swallows it all down with more alcohol.

She's not here to talk about herself, anyway. "Had any luck with the geek shack or whatever they have here?" A smooth change of topic, expertly executed. Also she's kind of tired of standing around like they're in line for the loo, so she takes the liberty of sitting down somewhat stiffly on the ostensible sofa.

[einselective]

Marian doesn't exactly approve of war, but something centuries-old... it's likely not as if Quill had much choice in the matter. That was the world she had to live with. She has another sip or two while Quill talks, definitely feeling a bit warmer already. She'd never been much of a drinker, either, mind you.

"Not yet," she says, settling in a chair at the table, herself, facing away from the window, but letting the blanket slip from her shoulders a little. "Maybe once... this... is over I'll try again. Starting completely from scratch seems... " She doesn't exactly think 'hopeless', but starting from square one... she's not even sure where she'd begin. "...less productive," she finishes.