hadrielmods: (Default)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ ([personal profile] hadrielmods) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2017-04-17 10:30 am

Event Log: The Seven Days of Hadriel

Who: All characters participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Seven Days of Hadriel event
Where: All over the city!
When: April 17th-April 23rd
Warnings: Delicious food, a week full of fun, and nothing terrible at all.


After everything that went down when the city split, the residents of Hadriel deserve a break - and the gods are trying to give them one. For a week, each god will be taking one day to throw an event of their choosing. Nothing is mandatory, nothing is designed to manipulate, so relax and have a good time!

On April 17th, Hope is holding a grand feast. The dried and canned food usually found in the shops is replaced with tables of freshly-made dishes, ready to be eaten. There are foods of all kinds here, familiar and very strange, and each different one is marked with its ingredients. There's bound to be something you'll like, so stuff your face, take a box or three of leftovers home, and gain a few pounds!

On April 18th, a racetrack appears near the moped lot, and Tranquility starts holding moped races! There will be quite a few different races held across the day, so stop by any time - drawn by the thrilling revving of moped motors, no doubt - and race your fast friends and your furious enemies for the grand prize: bragging rights.

On April 19th, Rage takes over the arena for that most brutal and vicious of fights, a pillow war. Anyone stopping by will find stacks of pillows of various shapes, sizes, and densities, all ready to be pick up and used to wallop the person next to you in the face. So work out some of that aggression!

On April 20th, Confusion sets up her hedge maze near the orchard. This twisty, confusing labyrinth can keep you occupied for quite awhile - though if you get too confused or lost, you can always tap out and be instantly transported back to the entrance! Do your best, though, and you might make it to the end - where two lucky winners get a magical compass prize, and the rest get, well, a less magical one. Your two lucky winners this time are Sans and Richie Gecko! Enjoy your prizes!

On April 21st, Love is ready to help all of you find a little more love in your lives. Stop by the Speakeasy (the owners of which are super stoked about this) to get the name of someone to go on a romantic (or platonic!) date with. Successful dates not guaranteed, but Love is not terrible at their job - the name you'll get will, at the very least, be someone you can get along with.

On April 22nd the library gets a little livelier with Delight's open mic! Stop by to show off your singing skills, display your master poetry craftsmanship, or tell a funny story. Got another talent you want to show off? Sure! Jugging flaming batons, messing up amateur magic tricks, sword-swallowing - everything's welcome!

And finally, on April 23rd, Sorrow will close the week with a formal masquerade. Masks are not required, but formalwear is, and can be found throughout the shops. Spend the evening listening to tasteful music, nibbling at refreshments, and maybe finally getting a dance with that guy, girl, or non-gendered being of your dreams. Dance the night away, assured that no one will be turning into a pumpkin, and wake up the next morning feeling relaxed and appreciated for all that you've done for the gods.

Attend all the events, none at all, or just a few! It's entirely up to you.


► This log covers April 17th-April 23rd.
► 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 somehow manage to die during a completely non-dangerous week, please let us know here, and rethink your life choices.
honores: (we mean it but i promise we're not mean)

emily kaldwin | ota

[personal profile] honores 2017-04-17 05:55 pm (UTC)(link)
april 17th

[ The feast is welcome, considering the recent lack of sustenance within their divided city (and her less-than-filling meals, in general, since her departure from Dunwall). In fact, this is an almost-starling sight in how much it reminds her of gatherings at the Tower, feasts thrown in one person or another's honor with Emily sitting at the head of the table. They had no shortage of food in Dunwall Tower, even as other parts of the city, and certainly the Isles, starved. She hasn't seen enough of Karnaca yet to know the extent of its people's suffering, but she knows firsthand that those in Hadriel have been lacking.

Unless now. The empress looks wide-eyed at the array, at things familiar and unfamiliar. Though her instincts push her to be cautious, to check for poison and other traps, the food is appealing enough to elicit embarrassing grumbles from her stomach. Emily allows herself a few small tastes, then more, indulging in a bigger way than she might have before once she determines it to be safe to eat.

It's only been less than two months since she lived the life of an empress, one that never was without meals like this, but it feels like ages ago. ]



april 20th

[ The maze is the most interesting event to come from this week of festivities. Its appeal is clear (a reward from the gods, perhaps even something that could aid in her return to the Isles) and she wastes no time in throwing herself into its depths.

The mazes proves to be... complex, to say the least. Emily is no stranger to riddles, puzzles, and the like, but Confusion's labyrinth is just what she's been looking for to keep her mind sharp. She moves around its corners, keeping a mental map as best she can of its paths, and occasionally passes others with a silent nod as she continues on.

She might have tried using the Outsider's abilities to rise to the top of the maze, but somehow, she thinks the gods might take that to be cheating. They obviously have near-complete control of this place, as far as she can tell, and she can't sabotage her chance of receiving some kind of way back home. Back to her mission. ]



april 23rd

[ The empress is not wearing a dress to Sorrow's masquerade. She is also not wearing a mask, however out of character that may be for the daughter of the 'masked assassin,' Corvo. Instead, Emily Kaldwin is all in black, gaze sweeping the rest of the party with practiced scrutiny. Emily has been to more parties like this one than most people and is finding it difficult to shake the usual disgust, the unease, of having to exchange pleasantries with people who might just as soon aim a knife for her back.

It's easy to tell that she's guarded, nearly suspicious, the way she sticks to the walls and looks around with a faint frown. It's been over a month and she's made no progress in returning to the Isles. More than that, her only familiar company is the Outsider, and she has... difficulty, to say the least, opening up to any others. With the coup having been so recent, it's hard to play nice with strangers, even after the split city chaos that ought to have brought them all together. A united front would be nice, she thinks, but she still isn't sure what to make of the other 'captives.' It would go against all that Corvo had taught her to trust them all without a second thought... ]
surgent: (| a whale song)

23rd

[personal profile] surgent 2017-04-17 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Where Emily chooses a dark garb, all sleek, the viper ready to strike should the need arise, the Outsider takes advantage of his ability to change his outerwear. It's never been something he's given much thought to before. He's worn the same outfit for centuries, no choice in the matter.

This time, though, this time he gets to choose what he wears. And, shall he die in it, perhaps the Void will find the change appealing and allow him to keep the soft silken dress shirt, the dark blue embroidery creating a tangle of vines that all stem from the back where a ship's wheel is delicately stitched.

He moves through the crowd with ease when he spots Emily, back against a wall, eyes all sharp. He keeps his feet on the ground, steps confident and easy, dark wisps and onyx trailing after him. The change in outfit does little to rid him of the scent of deep ocean and salt, of the tide and Dunwall, nor do his eyes take on any change—still as dark as the depths of the ocean deep.

As he closes in, he bows. It is a ball, after all, and she is an empress. ]


Do you believe Wyman would mind if I asked for you to dance with me tonight? [ He says it smoothly, though something about his gaze should tell her he knows something. Maybe something about a man whose heart lives and breathes adventure. ]

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skelebro: (here today gone tomato)

sans | ota, will match format

[personal profile] skelebro 2017-04-17 06:38 pm (UTC)(link)
april 17th
A sprinkling of magic into his own plate of entrees renders 'em edible to a monster like him, even if it takes a bit outta him to do so. Still, though. Feels nice to kick back and relax for once. Just don't look now, 'cause if you do? You'll get a glimpse of a skeleton surveying the assortment of delightful, varied foods on his plate before he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a bottle of ketchup to thoroughly slather 'em in the stuff.

Will you, innocent bystander, dare stand by and watch this act of culinary cruelty? Will you truly sit and let this stand? He didn't even taste the goods before he tainted them with his awful, awful ketchup.

Honestly, what a heathen.
april 18th
[Sans is probably cheating. C'mon, there's no way mopeds are supposed to - to float like that, or even go that fast. The nice thing, at least, is that he's just as liable to go the complete opposite direction of where he's headed, or straight up simply fall asleep at the wheel and possibly crash into another contestant in the meantime. Either way, Sans is having a ball with his lime green moped putt-putting about, even if he ain't likely to win.

That's fine, though. He ain't in it to win it. He's in it to get a gander at people's faces when a skeleton rides a moped about a foot or so off the ground and ends up on a roof instead of crossin' the finish line. 'Cause that, right there? That's worth more than any claim to fame.]
april 19th
Sans keeps to the wayside. Even for harmless pillow fights, it don't much do to take an unnecessary risk. It'd be just his luck if he made it through the city split, against all goddamn odds, only to get a pillow to the skull with enough force to reduce him to dusty powder. So he keeps outta the fray, instead choosing to run betting pools for other similar non-participants, or possibly chippin' in to supply someone with additional ammunition, should they require a pillow or two on the other side of the Colosseum.

He wishes you the best of luck, really. But what do you figure your odds are for being the last one standing, so to speak? Just, y'know - outta curiosity.
april 20th
[So, Confusion. Not his favorite god, as everyone's gotten to know full well. And a hedge maze technically ain't as much of a challenge to him as he initially figured; rather, he elects to pick his way through it, easy as you please, instead of hazarding to take shortcuts to circumvent the rules. Shortcuts might not shake out real well for anyone, either, seein' as he can't much see where it is he's going. So he moves at a leisurely meander, more like a guy who just kinda opted to stroll through to admire the scenery than anybody actively competing. His sense of direction ain't necessarily what you'd call the best out there, and he stops to take a snooze or two semi-frequently, but it turns out that Sans's brand of magic just happens to be rather like a cat's - he sorta ends up where he needs to be without much of an explanation as to why, simply excelling at poppin' up where and when he ain't wanted.

If you ain't too impatient to try and get through it, you're free to accompany him as he ponders forks in the road, twists and turns, and weaves his way about the thing.

A magic compass is a pretty great prize, after all.]
april 21st
You cannot date the skeleton. You do not want to date the skeleton. He smells of grease and broken dreams and dirty, dirty hot dog water. You can, however, park yourself at his table if you fancy getting an earful of horrible jokes while he swigs down a bottle of relish. Hey, don't worry - if you really wanna drink of what he's sippin', he's perfectly willing to share.

You also might wanna check your seat before you sit down. Some weirdo's been putting whoopee cushions on everyone's chairs, regardless of which table they're situated at. What a jerk, right?
april 22nd
[Open mic night, huh? He used to do stand-up at Delight's old place, back when it, uh, existed. That is to say, he blatantly contested Fear's scary stories with bad jokes galore. Meaning it's time for a good old-fashioned encore. Crow ain't around to supply him with back-up this go around, but Sans can still sell a joke like nobody's business.

Mettaton's even in the city, givin' it all the nostalgia of when he used to do standup at the MTT Resort. Back when Mettaton actually liked him, or liked a version of him enough to host some terrible jokes as performance filler.

So when it's his turn to take to the stage, he does so with an exaggerated, languorous ease.]


I tell ya, everybody. That whole deal with the city? My sides are still splittin', am I right?

[You can expect jokes of a similar caliber for the rest of the performance.]
april 23rd
Sans did not come with formal wear. You ever seen a skeleton wear a suit? Nobody wants to see that, man. C'mon. He might'a sneaked on past while clad in something appropriately monochrome, like maybe a black poncho-like bit of apparel, but regardless of how he entered, it'll soon come to light that Sans ain't wearing anything one could particularly count as formal to the event proper.

He is clad in nothing less than a stained white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with the words NASTY written in block letters across the back.

What? The deal with Sorrow was not saying anything of the joke variety. He never said a damn thing about skippin' over the rules to pull a good old-fashioned visual gag.
canisminor: (003)

april 19th

[personal profile] canisminor 2017-04-17 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Miriam is also keeping herself out of the fray for reasons, but that doesn't mean she isn't exploiting the situation for all it's worth. And currently taking 5-1 odds on her betting pool.

Hey, a girl's gotta stay entertained.

She whistles, watching the latest contestants do their damn best to kill each other with pillows.

"Damn, son. And I thought I was competitive. You seeing this, Sans?"

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kingslight: (♕When the light grieves)

Regis Lucis Caelum | ota (will match any format)

[personal profile] kingslight 2017-04-17 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
April 17th, The Feast
[To be frank, Regis doesn't know what to make of some of these elaborate dishes. Most of the food provided today wins his royal approval except for a few odd plates that certainly look more alien than they do edible. Nevertheless, Regis does find some enjoyment in eating some of his favorite dishes he has yet to enjoy in months. He scoops up a few meals here and there for the others; especially for Prompto since the lad is always so thin. Sometimes he wonders if the blond eats well enough. It's been years, but Regis remembers exactly how plump Prompto used to be. It's not his place to be concerned but Regis cannot help himself. Life without Noctis is a tad...unsettling but even that is quite the understatement.]

Finally these deities do something right.

[He mutters that to himself as he takes a sip of wine. It honestly feels good to get his lips wet with something possessing the slight zing of alcohol. It's almost as if all is right with the world and then some. While that couldn't be any further from the truth, at least Regis seems somewhat happy for once. Though, he certainly does look like an old buzzard lurking over the food like that. The king's penchant for black is a bit of an eyesore at this point. Surely there's other colors--oh, well.]


April 23rd, The Masquerade
[Who would've guessed that they would've survived such a perilous ordeal. The King of Light always held out hope that Hadriel, this unfortunate city and its unfortunate inhabitants; would overcome the hardships before them. However, now he finds himself a little perplexed by what the future may hold. Regis done his part to assist in aiding the "gods" alongside with countless others but he didn't quite expect these fickle deities to show any sign of gratitude. That's why he was honestly surprised he received such a handsome gift from them in the form of lovely attire that Ikaruga managed to score of him and this joyous masquerade.

While he's honestly wary of anything not black or gray, Regis decides to humor the exquisite tastes of his friend and don this golden brocade frock coat suit. It should go without saying that Regis isn't fond of light colors. Hell, any noble-blooded Lucian despises pastels. They wear black patriotically in homage to their patron saint, the Reaper. That is why this old crow religiously wears almost nothing but black. However, Regis does sometimes wears a hint of color in the form of muted purples and royal blues. It's just not often that he's seen in anything other than black.

Therefore, this will be a welcome surprise for anyone wondering if Regis is colorblind. Why else would he wear so much black? Seems like an logical thought even if incorrect.He matches his handsome golden attire with that of a white and gold mask that doesn't do much to conceal his identity.

Truth be told, he's not really hungry. The king lacks an appetite and that's because of various reasons. However, he does pick at a few things. A nibble there and a nibble here but he doesn't fix a plate of anything. He looks oddly pensive if anything, a handsome thoughtful figure with a somewhat grim expression. Whenever he's pondering about something, Regis' expression is often quite grim.
]

Wildcard
( ooc: suggestions allowed if either prompt suits you!)
Edited 2017-04-17 18:43 (UTC)
einselective: (displeased)

April 17th!

[personal profile] einselective 2017-04-17 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
"You're setting the bar low if providing more than just enough to keep us all alive is 'doing something right'," is Marian's disdainful reply, even as she picks a couple slices of melon off one of the trays and sets them on her own plate. 'And they're not deities, they're parasites."

Despite taking advantage of the food, grateful isn't exactly the operative word here, clearly.

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drabsolutelynot: (Default)

Dr. Lee Rosen / Some OTA + Some Closed

[personal profile] drabsolutelynot 2017-04-17 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
April 17th [OTA]

[Despite his cheeks still bearing the hollowed appearance left over from the previous few weeks, and his eyes still seemingly more deep set than they should be, Rosen is still not some to stuff his face or gorge himself on food. Generally food ranks within the middle range of Rosen's priorities, partly because he is abnormally picky, and partly because his mind gets easily distracted away from his stomach. But still, he is cradling a few apples in his hands as his nimble fingers work at freeing a brioche bun from a basket. His particular picks might appear distinctly boring compared to most of the food that is readily available at the feast.

But again, the man is picky.]

April 21st - [Closed to Wade]

[Rosen is not exactly the most romantically inclined. Divorced for well over a decade now, and generally preoccupied with work and the pre-eminent Alpha war, finding love has not exactly been high on Rosen's 'to do' list back home, if it is on there at all. But here in the cave, Rosen has begun to be distinctly aware of his 'aloneness'. His existence as entirely singular and separate from anyone else. An empty, one bedroom apartment. No regular patients like he had at home, his surrogate children. Just him. Alone in his distinctly feeble, non-super powered or combat trained, older self.

So maybe that is why he's come to Love's event. Even if he feels entirely awkward about the whole scenario. And even if he is not counting on anything to actually happen. But at least he'll be an active player in his life for a moment.

He is handed a name, and when he doesn't recognize it, he shyly ventures further into the bar]

Sometime before the Ball - [Closed to Emily]

[Rosen's face nearly touches the glass of one of the store windows as he peers inside. There are rows upon rows of outfits and accessories, some more familiar to him than others, but all in their own way foreign to him as a man with a very limited wardrobe. Generally speaking Rosen is always very neatly dressed, but in the way a classics professor at an ivy league is well dressed. A pressed collared shirt, a well chosen blazer or cardigan. But he's not exactly "fashionable". And he's certainly not fashion-conscientious enough to know where to begin for a ball of all things. He's been to a few high profile fundraisers and charity balls, but mostly as ordered by the DoD or any given medical board, and always someone else had a hand in helping him put himself together.

After a few moments of staring, it would be very evident to any casual observer that he has no idea what he's doing, and to top it all off, he is utterly overwhelmed by the options.]

April 23rd - [OTA]

[Thanks to the wisdom and guidance of Emily, Rosen has managed to clean up like a pretty penny
for the ball. His beard is freshly trimmed, his hair is neatly brushed back, and he's beginning to look less skeletal now that he's back to eating regularly.

However, while Rosen may certainly look the part of a socialite, he still very much is not, and will most likely be found timidly skirting about the edge of the ball, hanging near the walls, and only on occasion will he brave the crowd, with an expression akin to that of a deer about to be struck by a chevrolet.

Lee will try to play it off, but it is still obvious. ]

April 23rd - [Closed to Will]

[After one of his brief attempts at socializing within the crowd, Rosen has sought refuge in an odd, quiet corner. His fingers fiddle awkwardly with one of the buttons on his waistcoat and he chews a bit on his lower lip. It is strange how much easier he finds crowds when it is a matter of him speaking in front of an audience for a lecture or a government hearing, but for a purely social occasion? He feels like a fish flung onto a riverbank who is trying to flop his way back to the current.

And not doing so well.]
Edited 2017-04-17 19:39 (UTC)
unfollowing: (sass with a dash of salt)

let's fashion

[personal profile] unfollowing 2017-04-17 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Emily absolutely knows the look of someone who is lost. She's been here for over a year, it's easy to tell. Rosen doesn't look lost as far as the city goes, but he looks lost as far as what's inside the shop. From wandering around herself today, she's willing to bet she knows what he's looking at, but just to be sure, she looks past him and through the window as she walks by, and--

Yep. This guy is looking at clothes like Sam looks at Matt when he talks football.]

The clothes don't bite, you know. [Wolfie does, but only if you provoke him -- but Wolfie's not with her right now. He's wandering around, doing wolf things.

And Emily is doing Emily things, aka making sure a random fellow cavedweller doesn't turn into a fashion disaster.] Looking for something for Sorrow's masquerade?

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einselective: (Default)

Marian Tenebris: Open

[personal profile] einselective 2017-04-17 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
April 17th: Feast

Although not a fan of the gods in any way and definitely not trusting them in the least, everyone has to eat, and something other than the canned food is a welcome change of pace. So it's today that Marian can be found surveying the tables, thoughtfully looking at the ingredients list, perhaps with a small plate of fresh fruit and vegetable dishes in one hand. Not very much seems like it'll preserve well, but she can at least take advantage of this while it lasts.


April 23rd: Masquerade

The dress Marian found when pressed to wear something more formal is very modest but elegant... and yet, that elegance is completely offset by a number of things. There's Marian's poor posture for starters, her shoulders slumped, and the rather thick, utilitarian man's-sized smartwatch still on her left wrist. The biggest issue though, is the same dull grey box that she's always seen with still on her back, shoulder straps marring the line of the dress. She can't be bothered with a mask either; it's a nuisance and impairs visibility.

She's not much of a mingler, despite Lee's advice. Instead she stays near the edge of the festivities, looking distinctly unimpressed for the most part, eyeballing some of the more outlandish residents with vague uncertainty. Every so often though, she heads into the edges of the Colloseum proper, taking advantage of this so-far guaranteed monster-free period to examine the place in closer detail.
Edited 2017-04-17 19:50 (UTC)
tongueamok: (➣ that is all i have to say)

[personal profile] tongueamok 2017-04-18 06:56 am (UTC)(link)
Marian isn't the only one looking uncomfortable and unimpressed: her solitude at the edge of the Colosseum is interrupted as Carlisle makes his way over there, having left his date to dance with others (others far more capable of dancing, he reminds himself sorely). He straightens the tie that goes with his suit as he approaches, trying to find some way to occupy his hands from wringing together and his mind from focusing on how many people are there. While glad he found a suit that didn't have any white to go with it -- a challenge, given the choices of formal wear they were offered in the stores -- he also opted to go without a mask, as none of them fit under his glasses. He doesn't really see the point in them, as most people are still plenty recognizable even with the accessory obscuring a part of their face.

And thoughts like that are one of the many reasons why no one invites Carlisle to parties. He greets Marian with a polite nod, immediately following it up with a not-so-polite observation.

"Admittedly, you're one of the last people I expected to see here."

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quacked: ([ha] cool!!)

duck | open

[personal profile] quacked 2017-04-17 07:45 pm (UTC)(link)
17th

[ After going with barely any food for so long, especially when the city was split in half, seeing so many meals in one place is pretty amazing. Duck doesn't think he's seen so much food in his life - or at least not in several years. At first, he's cautious, even as his stomach growls, but after spotting several others eating without question, Duck decides it's not poisonous and digs in.

He spends all day at the storefront, sitting crossed legged under the table, munching on varied plates of foods he's familiar with, like fish and pasta and ice cream, and other dishes he's never heard of but decides he likes a lot.

He even sniffs at some of the wine, then takes a sip. Then spits it out, choking a little, because ew.

Or maybe you'll catch him a few hours later, when he's groaning a little and holding his belly. Maybe he shouldn't have had that fourth slice of cake.
]

19th

[ If it seems like someone isn't fully enjoying themselves or participating, even if they're not in the ring, Duck makes sure to help them get involved. Usually by a sneak attack in which he shouts, ] Sneak attack! [ And (if he can) he smacks them square in the face with a pillow.

Now you're having fun, right?

Later, in the evening once the pillow fights have subdued a little, Duck can be found gathering as many pillows as he can at once and dragging them toward the exit. Yes, he's stealing pillows. He needs them, okay.
]

20th

[ Mazes are harder than Duck thought they'd be; he started off heading around in different directions with no real plan and no tracking of paths he'd already taken. This turned out to be a mistake, as pure luck seems unlikely to help him right now. Left, right, right, left, right, right... has he been here before? He's sure he's been here before. Still, lost or not, Duck's determined not to give up. Hopefully he's not still here several hours later...

(He's probably here several hours later.)
]

23rd

[ Duck's found himself a pretty cool mask (to him at least) - simple and black, and kind of like a superhero's, which is awesome. He's also managed to find a suit well fitting enough for a skinny preteen. The fancy shirt and pants are enough to make him feel like Bruce Wayne, but he isn't quite sure what to do with the tie, since no one has ever taught him how to tie one, so it hangs loosely around his neck when he heads into the Colosseum.

He does try to tie it though. Did you know tying a tie like you're tying a shoelace is not the best way to do it? Well, Duck's beginning to realise as much. Help a kid out?

Once either someone has come to his rescue, or he simply gives up, Duck spends much of the evening at the refreshments table, though not eating quite as much as he was at the feast - he's learnt from his mistake, for now at least. He avoids the wine this time as well, though he does try some beer (nearly as gross as the wine). Otherwise he's sociable enough, and may even start a game of tag with any other kids nearby.
]
canisminor: (004)

17th

[personal profile] canisminor 2017-04-17 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Apparently she's not the only one who likes hanging out under tables.

Miriam pauses. Someone is in her spot. Her spot that she's stockpiled with chocolate and a big plate of still-bleeding meat for Barnaby. The dog whines. He wants his meat. It tastes like it's still breathing. ]


That's my plate, buddy.

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haemophobe: (166 | ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ)

kate | open

[personal profile] haemophobe 2017-04-17 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)
april 17th | cooler than ice cream cart
( There's a palpable wave of relief that washes over Kate when the first signs of the gods doing something doesn't involve monsters, or emotional turmoil. The city looks better than it did a few days ago, but there's still work to be done. There's always work to be done, with all the rubble and the lack of, well, anything much.

(She has an idea for that, but that's for another time.)

The sight of familiar and unfamiliar foods, of things that are a major upgrade over the usual fare scavenged from abandoned stores, makes Kate stop, blink, and double check that she hasn't walked into the wrong place. But it's definitely Hadriel, in all its former glory, underground and not-quite-right as it is. She pushes her hair back over her shoulders and wanders the aisles of a store, eyeing desserts with disinterest and actual hot, fresh meals with the barely-contained excitement of someone whose meals mainly consist of subpar stirfry and soups.

If you don't catch her checking out everything, she'll be found wandering the streets with a takeaway box of fried rice and a spoon rather than chopsticks (sorry, dudes, she ain't that coordinated). )


What's the catch, you think?

( Judging by the soft curl of her lips and the lilt to her tone, it's meant to be a joke, or at the very least, she doesn't care that much about consequences right now. )

april 18th | we're melting the whole damn park
( Honestly, Kate's never really used the mopeds - apart from that one time she taught Henry how to ride them. But races? Those she can do. And maybe it's cheating, just a little, when she can easily outspeed one of these things without really trying, but hey, races are fun.

She can be found checking the mopeds, as if debating which is the best. )
We really need to use one of these to race?

( Try and convince her. Or ask her to try and outrun them. She might just go easy on you.

Probably not. But hey, if you feel like a footrace, or a race across the rooftops, that's good too. )


april 21st | carving our names in bark carving our names in hearts
( The rooftops have long been Kate's favourite haunt, not just in Hadriel, but back home too. Anyone who's been here long enough has probably grown accustomed to looking up and seeing her signature pink hair at the top of the clinic's building, or just somewhere in the city as she hops from one to another.

But today she's standing still, looking up at the cave's ceiling and taking in all the twinkling lights that Shadow, Alphys, Sans and herself put together. Fake stars, but the closest thing they've had to a real sky since Tranquility revived. Something that stops this place feeling so claustrophobic.

If you happen to find her near the Speakeasy's roof, she might just comment on this. )


What d'ya think?

( Or, later, she'll have jumped down and found herself a seat at the bar to drink. Come join her, if you're not into the Lovefest going on behind her. )

april 23rd | i live on the same old street i've been here for three whole weeks
( Some things in life are guaranteed. The seasons will change, tax season happens, the gods will do something. And Kate won't be caught wearing a dress.

This ball? Is no exception. She has, however, found a cute playsuit to wear instead. It's enough of a depature from a uniform of jeans, t-shirts and brightly coloured hoodies that it counts, right? Especially with a relatively smart pair of flats and her hair wrapped around her head in braids instead of in her usual buns or ponytails.

For the most part, you can find her chilling on the outskirts of the party, drinking something and possibly swaying to the beat of whatever's playing. )
Edited (wow that was a coding fuckup) 2017-04-17 20:45 (UTC)
avephoenix: (half a bottle of jumbo champagne)

april 23

[personal profile] avephoenix 2017-04-17 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's a pouting firebird at Kate's side -- a pouting firebird named Faith, who is wearing a dress with a cape that looks like fire. (Of course she is.)

She is pouting hard at Kate, even though she thinks Kate looks really cute in her outfit.]


There's still time, Kahteedid. Let's go find you a proper dress, yeh?

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mismanagement: (011)

Maketh Tua | ota

[personal profile] mismanagement 2017-04-17 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
April 21st

[All she wants is a damn drink. Something strong and pleasant tasting.

It takes Maketh a moment to realize that tonight isn't simply business as usual. That something strange is indeed happening around her.

If you're close enough, you might see the horror dawning on her face, along with a brilliant blush as realization comes and she makes a valiant effort at fleeing while looking like she's not making a break for it.]


April 23rd

[It would be a shame to waste the dress that Emily worked so hard to make. And secretly, Maketh once enjoyed this sort of thing. Putting on airs. Seeing what can be made beautiful when everyone really puts their minds to it.

Even she has to admit the gods have outdone themselves this time. Maketh watches everything with a faint smile, standing just out of the way - though with clear slight-lines in every direction. She's standing a bit off to the side, wearing a long purple dress. Her hair is down, though swept away from her face with a few strategic braids. (Emily's handiwork, again). And while she has neither jewelry nor a mask, she's comfortable with the dress. It fits her well and she's proud to wear it, sipping a glass of wine and watching the festivities.]


Wildcard

[Hit me!]
fulminatory: (i never knew why)

23rd. you wanna dance, etc.

[personal profile] fulminatory 2017-04-18 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
I think you're breaking the rules.

[If Maketh turns to see the owner of the voice speaking to her from the side, she'll find one (1) Jason Todd dressed in a smart (if slightly rumpled) tux, complete with a domino mask in a deep shade of red around his eyes. If Jason does catch her eye, he'll point to that mask by means of explanation for what he's said. This is a masquerade ball, therefore masks are called for, and she isn't wearing one.

There's a hidden laugh in his words, a private joke, because when has he ever cared about following the rules. To Maketh, it may just sound like a gentle tease from a tall, masked stranger she probably hasn't seen around before.]

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canisminor: (005)

Miriam Day | ota

[personal profile] canisminor 2017-04-17 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
April 17th

[So. Much. Food.

This is probably the best thing in the world, Miriam decides. Barnaby, already stuffing himself on a plate of drumsticks, is in greedy agreement.

Both of them are camped out under a table, surrounded by junk food (for Miriam) and various piles of meat (for Barnaby). Better keep a close eye on your plate or it might just disappear under the table.]


April 19th

[Most people see a pillow fight and think slumber parties. Maybe an accidental bruise or two.

Miriam is a tad more economical.

Currently she's got a card table and chair set up, along with a notebook and pen. Barnaby is sitting by her feet, tail wagging.]


Hey! Hey, you wanna make a bet?

April 22nd

[Miriam doesn't really do fancy parties, but she likes being entertained and so is hanging out close by the stage, watching with rapt attention.

She's totally not stealing food from people. Your eyes are deceiving you.]


Wildcard

[Hit me!]
surgent: (| whalebones & charms)

23rd

[personal profile] surgent 2017-04-17 09:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The pair beneath the table are voracious and the Outsider watches with a curious grin as greedy fingers pull food off the table. After a time, he lifts the tablecloth, his dark eyes, though often uncomfortable to gaze into for too long, hold some mirth. ]

Do I dare ask if there is room for one more?

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unitas: (▸nothing else)

Sharon da Silva | OTA

[personal profile] unitas 2017-04-17 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
▍▍▍▍ I. April 17th | The Feast

[ Months of poor eating habits and habitual chaos leave Sharon pushing portions of various foods around on her plate, rarely ever bringing her fork to her mouth. It all looks delicious and smells delicious but it only makes her stomach roll.

Eventually, she leaves her barely touched plate on one of the tables and grabs a mug of some dark beer. It counts as food in her eyes.

To anyone nearby, she'll say: ]
It's nice to see all the ingredients listed and none of them say human. [ Small talk. Help. What do? ]


▍▍▍▍ II. April 18th | Racetrack

[ Sharon has never gotten the appeal of 'racing'. In her eyes, it's boredsville, like watching a gerbil run its wheel. She cups her hands to her mouth and yells: ]

Someone crash!


▍▍▍▍ III. April 23rd | Masquerade

[ The dress she chooses is a deep burgundy, hanging past her knees, edged with lace and peppered with fabric petals. She matches her tights to it and then pairs them with dark flats. The outfit is a far cry from her normal fare of leggings and hoodies and boots. She even dares a touch of makeup but does little to hide the slowly fading bruising or scrapes of the disaster they just avoided.

When not hanging around Mello as if he were her security blanket, she awkwardly nibbles at the food and sips at some alcoholic beverage near one of the tables, watching people dancing and chat like it's something foreign. She's not sure what to do or how to act or what to say.

Honestly, she wonders if it might be better to call it an early night. ]


I'm starting to realize this... really isn't my scene. [ Everything she does basically reaffirms her statement, one foot bouncing to the quiet beat of the music just to relieve the nervous energy built up in her. Maybe someone should ask her to dance? ]
torrefied: (i bought my enemies rope to hang me)

23rd.

[personal profile] torrefied 2017-04-18 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
We don't have to stay.

[There are a lot of people here, a lot of eyes, and it feels to Mello like they're all staring at him, through him. Maybe, he thinks, he should've picked a different mask than the mostly-black-lace number he chose.]

You do look awfully nice, though.

[So does he, by the way, in layers and layers of black. Mello reaches to take her hand and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.]

But it's your call.

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