Event Log: The Seven Days of Hadriel

[hadrielmods]

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.

Comments

sans | ota, will match format

[skelebro]

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.

april 19th

[canisminor]

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?"

[skelebro]

"Am I." He shakes his skull in mild if restrained awe, cupping the rounded bottom of his chin in the palm of one hand as he leans up against the edge of one table. "Still got my phalanges crossed for the first person who realizes they could just make the world's most impenetrable pillow fort outta this mess."

'Cause if anything's worthwhile in all this, it's pillow forts. Above all else.

[canisminor]

See, that's just brutal there. Miriam giggles, good hand resting on Barnaby's head. "It is kinda funny, though. Of all the things the gods could do, they're dropping pillows in."

April 17th

[einselective]

Up until now, Marian had been... well, not exactly enjoying the day, but at least was in a bit better mood. It's amazing what a good meal can do after months of eating from cans, and an extra quiche might stay good until tomorrow, so she'd come back around for seconds, about to head for the other side of the table, when she spots that bony visage further down. She's about to look away and just make an easy exit when... what is he doing? Ketchup?

Truly a monster.

But more seriously, the prospect of a skeleton eating actual food is bizarre. Even though she can only assume Sans doesn't exist by sapping the life from anything else around him, he's still the last person she'd expect to see with a loaded-down plate. Does it fall through him? is it just quote-unquote-magic?

Either way, with those thoughts running through her head, it's hard not to stare as the ketchup draws its saucy lines across the food.

"Are you.... g-going to eat that?" she can't help but ask, almost incredulously.

[skelebro]

Will wonders never cease.

Dr. Marian Tenebris, approaching Sans? Willingly? And not bein'...paid or nothing to do it? He'll consider that a nice step in a decent direction, at least for now, even if it's worth takin' a little salt. He pokes at his ketchup-soaked deviled eggs, canned beans, some sorta unnamed meat product with the label scraped away, and shovels a forkful of the horrible mess right on into his mouth.

Somehow, without ever parting his grin.

Weird, right?

"'Course I am," he says, lookin' like someone who's enjoying the visible awe and disgust he's drawing. "Be a real shame to waste food, right?"

[einselective]

"R... right... "

Approaching might not be the right word, since he's getting a horrified look from halfway across the room and she is not coming any closer, thank you. But it's different footing this time, at least; she'd seen him first. No surprises, and no intrusions upon what she'd thought was her space. And as much as actually looking at those awful pinprick lights in those dark sockets is, seeing him in the mundane (although slightly... off...) act of eating food is somehow slightly less alarming.

It is disgusting, however.

Then again, what are the chances he can even taste it without a tongue and sensory organs? She shudders faintly.

"Most people d-don't.... do.... that," she says, settling for judging his food choices and staring at the horrible ketchup-slathered plate still. Why, Sans.

21st

[murderpotato]

[When Gren went into the speakeasy, it was because it was time for his daily loss against alcoholism. All he wanted was to sit down, not get bothered by anybody, and drink until he's drunk enough to go home and pass out. It's not a thrilling or healthy life that he's got, but hey, it's not like he gives a fuck. The city of Gren has a population of exactly zero fucks.]

[When he actually goes in, though, he gets this card thing and only takes it because... well, it's being handed to him and everything else that's gone on so far has been pretty decent. Maybe it'll be something not-shitty that the gods are handing out.]

[Protip: it's not, because Gren has shitty luck.]

[He approaches the table that Sans has apparently claimed as his own.]

Why the fuck do I got a card with your name on it?

[skelebro]

[Oh my god.

Of course. Of course. Of all the people in the cave, he gets set up with a little speed date with Gren. Gren, who all but straight-up admitted that he was usin' Wade to blow off some steam, so to speak, who has never been one of Sans's biggest fans, and who has come to blows with the skeleton more than once - an impressive feat in and of itself, to be completely honest.

He leans back in his chair, arms folded behind his skull, as he pretends that this ain't about to be the massive train wreck it sure as shit is about to be.]

You didn't get the memo?

This one's the Love day of the week.

[Welcome to the world's worst date, Gren.]

[murderpotato]

[The critical mistake that Gren made here was expecting his life to not be a shitshow. He deserves this, really, he does-- it was probably all the murder. Clearly, this is karma biting him in the ass for all the people he killed like a thousand years ago, and it's all getting repaid right now. Right now, this very evening, when he's forced to go on a date with the one person in this stupid murdercave that he actively despises.]

[Gren doesn't reply to Sans for several long moments, because he's staring at the opposite wall of the speakeasy with a thousand-yard stare that would impress a Vietnam vet. He can see his own future right now, and it's filled with shitty puns and high blood pressure.]

I ain't fuckin' drunk enough for this shit.

[But, by God, he will be. Gren turns on his heel and goes to rectify his unfortunate sobriety by going right to the bar and getting himself alcohol. Lots of it.]

april 19th

[rehashing]

[ Pillows aren't hard to come by at first. They line the walls. But, Elena's pillow is yanked out of her human hands. She manages to duck an incoming pillow only to spot a -- is that - is it.... Not the time to focus on it, there's a new pillow in the area and she uses it to block an incoming pillow! But, the two others that pummel her can't be dodged. She still laughs through the feathers, out of breath, but lighter than she'd felt since coming here.

After her match, whereas she wonders how she did with the bets she saw being placed, she exits the arena and climbs into the stands spotting what she thinks threw her that pillow.

She can't stop her mouth from dropping open - even a tad, but, he'd helped her. He -- doesn't seem dangerous. Nobody is running away. Her eyes crinkle when she smiles, not forcing it, but not quite knowing how to go about it. ] I'm - sorry, I - I haven't been around Hadriel enough to -- [ See things like you? ] I'm Elena. I think you threw me that extra pillow?

[skelebro]

[It is, in fact, a very real skeleton. Very animate, as far as a set of bones go. No worries, though - he looks plenty happy to be here, even if the circles beneath his eyesockets indicate a level of exhaustion that shouldn't be communicated via nothing more than solid bone. Still, he manages to chuck her a pillow with a deft flick of a bony wrist when she's in a pinch, and sooner or later she picks her way over to the skeleton in question.

One eyesocket slits open, the bone considerably more pliable than maybe should be possible, and he grins at her.]

Sans the skeleton. Thought you could use a hand.

[He could pop one of his hands off right about now and start wavin' it about for comedic effect but, uh...yeah, one step at a time. People usually need some time to adjust to talking skeletons before they're okay with detached limbs being bandied about.]

[rehashing]

[ The Skeleton. ]

People take their pillow fighting here seriously. [ She looks back to the arena, watching the next ten people take their places, but then back to Sans. ] Sans, is that French?

[ Here's Elena, and here's Elena acting like a talking, animated skeleton is a normal, every day thing. See Elena make conversation. She's genuinely curious about the origin of the name. And how skeletons are named. Who names them specifically. But, she knows better than to ask ten questions in a row. ]

April 22nd

[drabsolutelynot]

[Rosen would slow clap if he actually knew that that were a thing, but even so he's clearly enjoying himself. There's nothing quite like high quality puns about the world almost ending, right?]

Another! [He'll playfully call from the audience]

[skelebro]

[Geez, pal. You'll make him blush.

Just kidding. Skeletons don't have blood.]

C'mon, Doc. Don't tempt me, here - I got a whole mess of jokes about doctors. You would not believe how much those guys love dogs, right? I mean, they're dealing with labs all the time, aren't they?

[drabsolutelynot]

[Ba-dum tish. Thats a new one.]

Bring them on, Sans.

[He spreads his arms in a 'what do you got?' gesture of challenge]

18th

[liveasmyself]

[Ray's just here to watch the festivities, and watch she does, paying particularly rapt attention as the skeleton guy lands on the roof.

Should she clap? That doesn't seem like the object of the race. Instead, she turns away from the rest of the mopeds and wanders a little closer to the building beneath said roof.]

...Were you supposed to do that?

[skelebro]

[He puts the brakes on pretty much the second he ends up on the roof, arms folded over the handlebars so he can pillow his chin in them, possibly about to take a quick snooze, when someone waylays him from below. He slits open an eyesocket to peer down at her, and chuckles.]

Sure I was. I'm tryin' to raise the roof over here.

[liveasmyself]

[She thinks that over for a second before deciding that there's definitely something she's not getting here.]

How can you raise it if you're standing on it?

23rd c_c; there are sins here

[prazerbutterfly]

"Sans!"

His name rings out barely under his breath with accusation and a hint of fluster from the usual always and overly playful noble. It's a new expression on his face as his flustered appearance shines rather brightly over his mixed tones of whites and blacks displayed on his form. He's dressed like he belongs here. He's in a more fancy outfit than his usual noble Victorian casual. Even his hair is down and is adorning his face.

But Sans' outfit is almost blasphemy and there is literally nothing he can do about it. It's not his ball nor is he the main guest at this affair. Yes, he is currently hovering around Lady Ikaruga and at her side when he's not dancing with someone else who did request this ball from Sorrow but it was not his place nor his decision to out a friend.

[skelebro]

What? You never seen a skeleton wear a pair of hotpants before?

All right, all right. So they ain't hotpants. They're a pair of delightful sweatpants, and Sans is living. Even if Tyki looks utterly mortified, that's just icing on the delightful, hilarious cake.

Sans winks at him, cheerfully.

"Heya, buddy. You clean up nice."

Sans, conversely, does not.

22nd rip

[survivorsguilt]

[Regardless of whether or not the rest of the audience gives the joke a particularly warm reception, Ellie is leaning forward in her chair to holler in laughter and whoop at Sans in encouragement.]

r i p

[skelebro]

[One hand snaps up to gesture in Ellie's direction, one eyesocket closing in a delighted wink.]

Yeah, see? She gets it! This is good stuff; jokes are a very positive way to unwind. Even if they are punintentional.

april 17th

[hasitsthorns]

I'm pretty sure you just put ketchup on cake, [ she says, thoroughly disgusted.

Truly a culinary disgrace. What a waste to good cake. Rose can't appreciate it herself either but someone could have. She guesses he will, actually, with ketchup on it but...

Eugh. ]

I mean, whatever floats your boat I guess. [ She almost wishes she could eat just to taste and see what deal about tomato flavored everything is. ]

[skelebro]

And?

[Ketchup on cake sounds heavenly, thank you. Some people put tomatoes in cake batter. It's a thing. He twirls the ketchup bottle in hand the same way a gunslinger might a pistol, and slides it into his jacket pocket with an easygoing grin.]

I gotta get magic into this food somehow, or it ain't gonna go down properly.