hadriel_logs | Event Log: Party Royale

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Event Log: Party Royale

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the Party Royale event
Where: All over the city!
When: September 22nd-29th
Warnings: Paintball, loss of consciousness, and partying!

As is par for the course in Hadriel, at some point throughout the day- waking up, making breakfast, doing laundry- you find an item. This isn't just any item though, it's a tried and true paintball gun, shining and just waiting to be picked up. This gun never runs out of ammunition, never malfunctions, and almost always hits the target that you're aiming at, so say hello to your new best friend for the next week.

Touching or picking up the gun will fill you with a competitive surge, which will likely increase when you find the note that's left with it, saying nothing more than be the last one standing. With instructions like that, how could you lose?

Well, you could lose if someone else shoots you. But never fear, there's a plan for that too! Even if you embrace the throes of unconsciousness, the gods have got your back and will eventually teleport you into a grand party where prizes will be handed out based on how long you survived. Awesome! At this party is also the traditional copious amounts of food and drink, as well as everyone's favorite goddess Delight and everyone's slightly-less-favorite goddess Rage!

Happy paintballing, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

► This log covers September 22nd-29th.
► 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 fall and break your neck or something because you can't die in paintball, please let us know here.

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[Lance glances up at the comment, attention having been entire focused on his food and a newly acquired beer, and raises his eyebrows slightly at her.]

You seem less pleased.

[He says it evenly, genuinely unbothered; his mood is too good--or at least too calm--to be agitated by Maketh's presence. Not yet, anyway.]

Your powers of observation, are, as always, a credit to your profession.

[She doesn't yell. Her voice is perfectly even, if perhaps a bit sharper than usual.]

I expect this from some here. I had hoped for better from you.

[She eyes his trophy with displeasure.]

Was there a particular reason you decided to risk the lives of the people here, Doctor Sweets?

[...Calm. Still calm. Definitely not suddenly annoyed and very defensive, and definitely not choosing this moment to take a long drink while he reminds himself he has no need to justify himself to Maketh.]

I thought it'd help me understand the people here a little better if I pretended to be cavalierly homicidal for awhile.

[There's no attempt to hide the sarcasm.]

[No reason is forthcoming. Maketh curls her lip.]

The games the gods provoke are rarely harmless. A fact you seem eager to ignore. Oh, but where are my manners? Congratulations on your victory.

[The smile she gives him is not especially kind.]

The gods are surely pleased.

[He has a whole lot of ways he could respond to that, but decides to ignore most of them; there's a more interesting question to ask here.]

Have you truly never participated in an event?

[It's just a little disbelieving in tone, although he's genuinely asking. He can't really imagine that the answer is yes, but if it is that'll be very interesting to know.]

Of course I have. When I was compelled to, or I had no other choice.

[She eyes him up and down.]

I even died during a few.

[He takes mental note of that, even if his gaze shifts back to a small bowl of fruit he's picking through to find the ones he likes best.]

Then I'm not certain why you're so surprised I might've done so.

[It's a neutral statement, meant to point out the correlation and implications there; he'd participated because of the compulsion to do so, and it had overridden most of the normal mental checks that would've kept him from getting involved. It's not something he's all too happy about, but it's also not one that he's going to torment himself over feeling guilty about.]

You were given fair warning of the compulsion. It was weak compared to the others.

[Her tone is perfectly flat.]

And you celebrate your actions when it is done. Well done.

[Well, he's not sure what he expected in response, but it's still disappointing in a way. So he shrugs, continuing to shove fruit pieces around with his fork, and decides not to argue--even though it's tempting--with the first part of her statements.]

Considering no one was ultimately hurt, and I've effectively fixed my bullet problem, I think I have reason.

[He also leaves it unstated that he proved he's very capable of making it through an event based on shooting and surviving, which doesn't hurt.]

You acted without knowing the endgame and you acted in favor of the gods. Certainly you had reason.

[Maketh laughs suddenly, to her own surprise.]

How very Imperial of you.

[He might've been offended--and he might actually still be a little, subconsciously--if he weren't so incredulous, finally looking up from what he's doing to give her a suspicious look.]

What point, exactly, are you attempting to make? Because either you've had too much to drink or I haven't had enough, but either way what you're saying isn't making a lot of sense.

[It's... Sort of true; he does understand, he thinks, the correlation she's trying to draw, but it seems so tenuous that he isn't sure if she's actually trying to prove something or just seeing what might stick.]

[Oh, what a funny thing to see. Doctor Sweets following logic that would have put him right in with the rest of her Imperial friends. Maketh just grins at him. She's not drunk - not yet - and isn't in the mood to pretend otherwise.]

It makes a certain kind of sense. I would have respected you for it once. Who knew if they would die or not, hmm? And you got bullets for your efforts. Very nice.

[And rather mercenary of him.]

Tell me, did the good doctor approve? I rather like her.

[He sighs, deciding that he's apparently not drank enough regardless of whether she has or not, and suddenly thinks that the beer is really not strong enough. Ugh.

Although he could explain that her statements could be true if a multitude of other side factors--the compulsion, that it's better to compete and have a chance than just being a target, that he's only enjoying the end result because no one was harmed--were ignored, but he reminds himself that he has no reason to try to convince her. He doesn't care what she thinks of him.

So instead he focuses on her last comment, eyes narrowing a little in suspicion once more, but this time it's about a bit more serious of a reason.]

I hope you're aware of how creepy that comes across as. But why don't you ask her yourself? Dr. Brennan is entirely capable of expressing her own opinions.

[Maketh eyes him. There's nothing wrong with her question. It's a perfectly logical one to pose.]

Why is that creepy?

Because it just is. Not using her name is part of it, although there's also the fact that telling someone who you very much dislike that you're fond of their friend can come across as vaguely threatening.

[Those are the main things setting off the creep factor.]

[Maketh's frown deepens.] That is foolish. Not to use her title would be disrespectful. And I dislike a great many people, you among them. If I meant to threaten one, you would know.

Thanks.

[It's very dry, not even sarcastic, just the only thing that's appropriate to say to that last part.]

And you can call it foolish all you want, but if you want to use her title and for it not to sound creepy, Dr. Brennan is the better way to go about it. 'Good doctor' is generally not used where and when we're from except sarcastically or pointedly.

[This is an... Almost normal, casual conversation to be having, somehow.]

Is she not good at her job?

[It's just a thing that's said. Maketh supposes it could be a threat, with the right implications attached, but she's not in the mood to play that particular game. It doesn't get her anything.]

She's one of, if not the, best in her field.

[There's just a tiny hint of his fondness for his friend as he says it, although it's gone from his tone for his next response.]

But as I said, the particular phrase has connotations, whether it makes any sense or not.

[He didn't make this rule, although he's now convinced Maketh didn't actually mean anything creepy by it. Still creepy, but intent does count for something.]

Then it is polite to use her title.

[It's the civilian equivalent of a rank, one well earned, and it would be rude - unforgivably so - to ignore it. Maketh has no reason to do so just yet.

She frowns at Sweets.]

The rules of your world make no sense at all.

Then, as I said, call her Dr. Brennan. Or just doctor.

[He frowns back, though more to match the expression than because he's actually particularly annoyed.]

I'm sure the same can be said of anyone's world.

It was clear in context who I was referring to.

[Referring to someone by their title is perfectly acceptable.]

Most worlds have clear motivations for their rules.

That's not the problem.

[He sighs, stretching one leg out a bit and moving his plate to balance on the other.]

I can explain exactly why this connotation exists, but I'm not sure there's any point.

[In other words, he's pretty sure she'll still just tell him it doesn't make sense, so he's doesn't think it's worth bothering.]

You are a frustrating individual.

[This time, it's not said with any particular malice. Maketh eyes him up and down, then shakes her head.]

Enjoy your victory, I suppose.

[He can hear the difference from how she usually says it, and so he offers an amiable shrug in return.]

I'm enjoying the food a lot more.

[The undertone is clear there, purposefully telling more than he's actually saying; he's not exactly enjoying his victory as much as he might've previously been implying. Sure, he likes that he won, and he likes the prize that he received for it, but he isn't as pleased by how it came about.]

But thank you all the same.

[That part's just the polite thing to say, not anything more, but he's pretty sure that's how Maketh meant her comment anyway.]

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Event Log: Party Royale

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