Event Log: A Hope for the Future

[hadrielmods]

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the A Hope for the Future event
Where: All over the city!
When: April 15th-April 19th
Warnings: Stealth Rock

It's finally time to reap the rewards you've earned from all that hard work collecting and returning the Hope orbs! Be careful walking the streets during the small earthquakes, but feel free to admire the scenery as your beautiful city reassembles its way back into its former glory.

There are new houses where the destroyed buildings once were, and they're perfect for a single person or pair of lovebirds. In addition, you'll find that the electricity to these new houses, and all other homes and shops in the city is restored. The food is better, the monsters are gone- hey, this city might be livable again!

To cap it all off, we've got a feast waiting for you on the 19th! Come one, come all, and enjoy all of your favorite foods, drinks, and party games. It's been awhile since we've all gotten together to celebrate something good, so get your party on and toss all your troubles away!

► This log covers April 14th-April 19th.
► 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 hit by levitating rubble or eat a food that wasn't meant for you, please let us know here.

Comments

Nathan Drake | party only | ota

[nonscriptum]

[It's been a long week. On top of mitigating the altogether hilarious aftermath of being negged into taking his shirt off in front of a couple of asshole elves Nate has spent a considerable amount of time invested in locating a robot for their resident headshrinker. The act itself felt fairly benign and unhurried up until he received actual coordinates, and after a frantic dig through rubble he was left with a small metal parcel a little smaller than a football.

It's safe now, however, which means he has free reign to enjoy some of the aspects of this place he remembers from this first feast, about a year ago. Food from home, food from abroad, food from every godforsaken point of origin belonging to each resident, replete with the alcohol to boot.

About time, honestly.]

food; fun fact, the vomitorium wasn't actually for vomiting

[Not uncommon for his usual, Nate doesn't stick around in one place for longer than a brief conversation could occupy. It's difficult not to get distracted by the colorful spread and he wanders around the wide tables in interest, trying things with which he isn't familiar and thrilled to see dishes he recognizes.

Nate never thought he would actively miss the kind of creole spread available at the hole in the wall a couple blocks from the Drake-Fisher residence back in New Orleans, but the smell of shrimp and near-nuclear spices washes over him like a familiar, gastronomical wave. He reaches for a plate.]

Don't mind if I do.

drink; the romans did like their wine, though

[It isn't like Nate to make an effort toward getting drunk, particularly because he has to imbibe enough alcohol to drop a horse to reach that point, but after a substantially strong bottle of distilled spirits from south of the border Nate is more friendly than his usual.

It gets progressively worse, a word which here means "Nate's ebullient conversation devolves into truly abominable, increasingly inappropriate jokes and puns involving the ancient civilizations."

He sways amiably as he wanders the party, a glass of clear liquor in one hand and a loopy smile on his face, eager to engage in debate or exchanges of wits alike.]

drink

[lemontree]

[ Dany spends most of her time drinking seated, but when she does rises, there's a definitive sway to it. When she spots the near-stranger who crashed unceremoniously through her window to inform her that the house was ablaze, the young queen makes her way in that direction, lips loosened by drink and ready to offer more insight into her thoughts on that first meeting. ]

You. [ She declares, still fairly poised and regal in the throes of tipsiness. ] Have you rescued scores of others from their own ill-intended cooking since we met?

[nonscriptum]

Me.

[Comes the immediate, impulsive response. It's been a while, but Nate is accustomed to being addressed with a whole host of different words - usually involving expletives in combination with his surname. He turns, getting an eyeful of righteously angry blonde - he can only say "angry" because the crisp diction crackles with evident frustration - and blinks at her.

Slowly, a crooked grin ekes its way across his face.]

Y'know, I can't say that I have. [He tips his glass toward her, conceding even as his expression grows more mischievous.] Maybe they're just better at not lighting themselves on fire.

[lemontree]

I was never on fire, but, then, you might have seen that if you hadn't been in such a hurry to litter our floors with broken glass.

[ This is all in good fun, right? Right. She takes a draw from her goblet, opting not to mention that she'd started at least two fires in her lifetime that might have counted as 'lighting herself on fire' were she any other person. ]

I suppose you left it that way without an offer of repairing the damage because you thought it might encourage the airing out of the place?

[nonscriptum]

[Nate inhales deeply, steeling himself for the reprimand he only sort of deserves. A guy tries to return a girl's medieval fantasy bondage equipment, and this is the thanks he gets?

When he gets a word in edgewise his tone softens, and he has the grace to look apologetic.]

Look, I'm sorry about your window. I'm actually surprised you didn't move after the fire. When I saw it happen, I was on the roof of the building next door - it was the easiest way in.

[lemontree]

We are planning to leave, actually. [ Margaery had only just approached her about it today, in fact. ] For a number of reasons.

[ The fire, and... for protection. Margaery had been murdered, after all. ]

One of which is that, apparently, grease leaves an awful smell. [ She works up a slow, deliberate smile. ] You should have warned me.

[ :') ]

[nonscriptum]

[...oh.

Oh, she's teasing him. For a moment there Nate honestly wasn't certain whether the tiny woman with the judgmental eyebrows was capable of making jokes, let alone at her own expense, but as it sinks in he can feel his hesitation ease into a tentative smile.]

Yeah, if there's a next time, I'll make sure to do that.

[His drink changes hands and he extends one, for a more proper introduction.]

Nathan Drake.

drink

[storyseeker]

[Elena's not, like, a total hedonist, but she has her moments, and those moments definitely occur after a period of relative deprivation when indulgence has not just been granted permission but has in fact been encouraged. So she's having a moment now.

She's enjoying the effects of a few drinks now.

Whenever Nate pauses, he may or may not be surprised by a pair of arms that wind around his waist from behind.]

There's no music. How am I supposed to get you to come dance with me?

[Oh yeah, she's definitely drunk.]

[nonscriptum]

Heyyyyy.

[Elena isn't having a moment so much as she is having several, in quick succession, which is something that tends to happen when she's imbibed more than a few drinks. Practically a foot shorter than him, she is especially susceptible to the effects of alcohol and, being who she is, wavers between extremely amorous and extremely sleepy.

The former he can handle, and very much likes to. The latter he worries will result in her worship of the toilet later this evening.]

I guess Hope didn't think to set up a band.

[Nate turns in her grasp, already feeling deliciously loose, and loops his arms around her in return. Elena looks ruddy-cheeked and inviting and he gives her a little squeeze, grinning.]

We could just dance anyway, but you'll step all over my feet.

[storyseeker]

[Elena isn't so far gone that she's unaware of why she feels the way she feels. Her love for her husband has nothing to do with alcohol, but alcohol absolutely is a factor in why she's smiling up at him like there's nowhere she'd rather be in the world. And she's completely fine with that knowledge.]

I should step on them anyway. You're too tall.

[Really, it's rude of him to loom that far above her, keeping his big stupid handsome face farther away. Elena gets up on her tiptoes briefly to plant a surprise kiss on him, just for a moment.]

If I stood on your feet while we danced we'd at least be closer to the same height, but then I'd have no dignity.

[Does she now, though? Does she really?]

[nonscriptum]

Hey, I'm notmmph.

[What is rude is the threat of bodily harm when both of them should be enjoying her delightfully inebriated state - not quite far enough along to be dangerous, but just enough to be fun. Nate grins in spite of the thievery, because kisses are commodities he doesn't mind her stealing.

Sucking an exaggerated breath through his teeth, Nate pulls his worst grimace. Two inches closer, maybe, but not enough to make a significant difference. He sways them both a little away from the crowd, conversational, teasing.]

I don't know. Do you have any now?

[storyseeker]

[Argument interrupted, she wins. That's how it goes, right?

Elena wobbles a little but certainly doesn't stumble as they move. Swaying isn't dancing without a slow song to do it with, but it's good enough for now.]

Wow. That's really rude, you know. [She says, with no hint of offense in her tone.] I have tons of dignity. Dignity's coming out my ears.

[nonscriptum]

[Seems like that might actually be cheating? WHO'S THE THIEF NOW, ELENA?]

I don't see it.

[Nate shrugs with both his shoulders and his eyebrows, one arm tightening around her waist as they reach the edge of the surging party-goers. Easier to hear her, this way, and have her hear him in return.

It also offers him the barest modicum of privacy when Nate dips his head to the side, nosing at a delicate ear. His grin touches Elena's cheek just enough to be mischievous when he murmurs,]

Nope. None. No dignity here.

drink, eyes emoji

[pocketspa]

[Most of the time, when the Gods have a party, Taako has to spend a bunch of time beforehand fabricating or creating alcohol, a pregaming ritual that only leaves him a little bitter about his situation. But after confirming beforehand that this place was going to be lit and being greeted by a bottle of Grey Goose, he has decided he likes this party. It's been at least two hours and he has not stopped drinking at pretty much any point, equally unsteady on his feet as he bumps shoulders with people through the crowd. When he finally (literally) hits Nate, he spins a bit unsteadily, but blinks at him until it registers. He's dressed impeccably, a glittering body-hugging dress with matching heels that don't seem to be serving him well here. His long hair, typically braided back tight, is left loose down to the waist where it picks up the twist, but pieces of it fall loose over his shoulders. It's great. This is great.]

Haha, oh shit, hey. You look like you're, uh... havin' fun. Yeah.

[He'll get there, give him a minute.]

[nonscriptum]

Hey.

[Nate says in mild surprise at the sparkling figure, and it takes him a moment to realize that it's Taako. Honestly, he should have known the second that sequins came into his periphery. Nate doesn't know many people who dress flashier.

He quirks a crooked grin at the fumbling, because the last time they talked Taako's ears were turning red and both his sister and Nate were giving him Hell for it.]

You look nice.

[pocketspa]

[Listen here buddy. Don't you start gay chicken with him. You and he both know He Will Not Stop.

Regardless, he grins, and Nate might realize he does not have a glass, but an open handle of Grey Goose still stuck in his hand. It's half empty. It explains a lot.]

Thanks, my man. You uh, you clean up nice, like always. Or as much as you can clean up for a, uh, dinner event.

[His speech is a bit slurred, but now that he's not walking, he feels slightly less like he's going to fall over.]

So what'd you get from this apology banquet?

[nonscriptum]

[I don't know, Taako, the last time Nate flexed you had heart palpitations. You might not last very long.

He does smile at the compliment either way. It's sincere.]

Uhhhhthis.

[He flails behind him for a moment, for something on the table, retrieving a bottle wrapped in wicker and full of clear liquid. Nate glances between it and the Grey Goose meaningfully.]

It'd put your drink to shame.

[pocketspa]

[He will stab you with his heel, Nate. Fight him right here.

He raises an eyebrow at whatever Nate's presenting, mouth already grinning wide like he is ready to accept and win any stupid challenge he can think of.]

Oh yeah? Gimme the deets, my man. What is it, and also, find me a cup and put some in my hand, tttthanks.

food

[crippled]

[Ivar has been getting good use out of his new wheelchair, scooting around with a plate full of food to accost the people he finds interesting now that he's able to both hold onto something and move for the first time in his life, and if he occasionally rolls over a few toes here or there, well surely it's only because he still needs some practice.

Surely.

The smell of Nate's cuisine of choice gets his attention almost before the man does, and even for someone used to trade from all around the world, Ivar is waylaid by the sheer intensity of the spices.] What is that? [He means hello, great to see you Nate, thanks again for the wheelchair.]

[nonscriptum]

[Nate turns just in time to nearly trip over Ivar, catching himself on a table and grinning apologetically as he backs up again. Maybe he should have put a bell on that wheelchair.

As per the usual Ivar launches into a minor inquisition and in response Nate looks at the table, at his plate, raising an eyebrow.]

Étouffée? [Right, yeah, that's a French word. Didn't they invade France at one point? Where didn't they invade?] It's like a seafood...dish.

👏 bring 👏 on 👏 the 👏 puns 👏

[claritatis]

[The only reason that Ignis is sober is that he's had enough strong coffee to turn most people into human hummingbirds, or potentially give them a heart attack. No doubt he'll feel absolutely terrible in the morning, given how long it's been since he had access to decent coffee at all, but right now he's just enjoying himself entirely.

Seated, and for a little while bereft of any company, he's near enough to Nathan to hear him crack a line or two and despite all better instincts, he can't resist piping up with--]

It sounds like your jokes might be a little hit and myth.

[nonscriptum]

Uh, you must be mythtaken.

[He says without batting an eye, impolitely pointing with his drink. He mightn't normally be so argumentative, but Nate has always had a competitive streak a mile wide and enjoys the challenge.]

My jokes would have the Fates in stitches.

[Which, you know, is convenient, since they spin thread and all that.]

[claritatis]

[The issue here, of course, will be wildly differing mythologies. Not that that is going to stop Ignis at all, when he's had enough coffee to keep most people awake for days.

He leans back in his chair and smiles, tilting his cup towards Nate in response.]

That sounded terribly forced. You might want to try a different thread.

[nonscriptum]

I don't see you weaving a much better tapestry, pal.

[Nate raises his eyebrows over his drink. EVERYONE'S A CRITIC.]

[claritatis]

[The young man looks into his cup, as if considering the contents.]

I'm doing what I can with the material I'm being given. [He replies blithely, a small smile at the corners of his mouth.] But I'm sure you're more than capable of spinning a good yarn.