Mingle - Emergency Potluck

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WELCOME POTLUCK

Greetings, residents! Those more observant sorts among you may have noticed a large influx of very crowded ferries. In order to welcome our new residents en masse, Town Hall is holding a potluck in Town Square. Please bring a dish if you are able and make a new friend!

All of our newest arrivals need only bring themselves. We look forward to welcoming you all into our community, and may your lanterns always be lit.

This event is open to all! In light of our new influx of prospective players following the Great Sail Migration, we've decided to offer a small public event to tide everyone over until the TDM this weekend.

Comments

[astrogator]

She nods encouragingly. 'That's it! Exactly right. You don't have to say it back - it's not impolite if you don't, since you aren't a Tradeliner. But if people do, it always reminds me of home.' Her wistful smile at the thought might indicate that this is a very good thing as far as she's concerned.

Tayrey has always been quite consistent in her beliefs - that hypothetically, should there be other women wearing her face, in other timelines or universes, that has precisely nothing to do with her as an individual. So she'll give this César that very same courtesy, and treat him like the new acquaintance he is. The other man she knew was just that. Another man.

'You were asking earlier - I don't eat any animal flesh, of any sort, but eggs are fine. Anything that doesn't harm the animal is fine,' she explains.

[lightconductor]

Watson does not believe he's seen the end of it, and is already resigning himself to a future of bird puns.

"You will have to deal with my cooking, remember," he says. "I've mostly graduated from sandwiches, at the very least."

[sistermagnetic]

Of course she doesn't immediately assume that someone would show up to the event but not eat. The last few weeks have been rough on all of them, and not just food-wise, so offering some extra is reflexive. But she looks at Keziah awkwardly holding her plate, and connects two dots. She wouldn't take the plate away of course, figuring that it might be handed off to someone else later if it was just that she didn't actually want or like the offered meal.

Covering the awkward moment, she simply smiles and gives a small bow in return.

"These are my people, I've got to take care of them," she replies. "Welcome to the village."

[astrogator]

She accepts this. He's being courteous, and she doesn't have to agree with his opinions. Tayrey gives him a polite nod.

'That's a fine thing to do. I hope the people who would benefit from the information get it,' she says neutrally.

'My name's Tayrey. Lieutenant Tayrey of the Tradelines. Peace and prosperity to you.' She extends a hand to politely clasp his.

[iamthepyre]

To most, Daisy might be intimidating, to Dabi...well it's hard to be intimidated when you're usually the one doing to intimidating. However he does give her a respectful sort of distance at first. He knows that paranoia and that feeling of someone on edge, like they're being cornered.

Dabi reeks of smoke and burning right about now. He hasn't been able to get any cream for the scars so some of the edges are looking worse for wear, they purple color seems to bleed over past the staples. Even his white hair seems to have some form of heat damage. But other than that...he is perfectly normal. A human through and through.

It's only after he's made his own rounds that he decides, fuck it why not. Daisy is a new face and she looks interesting. So don't mind him as he just walks over and plops down near her. He still gives her space and doesn't stare her down, instead he just stuffs his hands in his pockets with a bit of a lopsided grin.

"Y'know...pretty sure the food is actually good. For now. Don't quote me though, who knows what it might actually be."

[notinflictthem]

"So we introduce these fine people to the concept of take-out, that's hardly a bother, right? C'mon, I've been locked in a freezing clinic all winter, I would kill for an actual dinner party."

Look at him, two whole sentences without more bird puns!

[notinflictthem]

"Oh, someone is jealous. This is a classic story, y'know, the less handsome and significantly larger brother gets mad over his more handsome sibling's lover. Then the doppelgangers get involved somehow, or so I hear, I don't listen to radio dramas."

He laces his fingers on his chest, "Just for that, I'm making out with them on your desk in the clinic."

<3

[astrogator]

She gives the stranger another quick, grateful glance before ladling a little of the turnip casserole onto her plate.

'I like cheese,' she tells him. 'Turnips, maybe not so much, but a meal's a meal, right?' Setting the plate down, she turns towards him and sticks out a hand. 'Lieutenant Tayrey of the Tradelines, peace and prosperity to you.'

Ari's meeting a lot of new people today, and she considers that a good thing. A chance to be herself again.

[decohere]

She's died, they say. Of course she has. So many times now in so many awful ways, she feels nothing but hollow regret. She's encouraged to go to a bank, to register herself. To get a job. She doesn't. There's free housing. So she avoids it, not wanting anyone to know her location. Ava does what she knows best, and hides.

Sleeping fitfully where she can, she makes it through a few days. Before the hunger hits.

The advertised potluck sounds like a trap. But one she tentatively checks out, because invisibility means nobody has to know she's there at all. If she can steal a few bites...

But there's at least one face she recognizes. Still hiding behind the table, there's a hushed and urgent, "Lieutenant."

[sistermagnetic]

Offering a small smile, Magne turns to one pan, gesturing and answering "Chicken" to one and "Pork" to the other. "I wasn't sure anyone else would know what it was but fried things seem to be universal."

She then reaches for a glass bottle with a label adhered to it reading Katsu, accompanied by its native characters in hiragana. "The sauce isn't quite going to taste right, unfortunately. We don't have everything you'd normally need to make it. I tried, though."

[sistermagnetic]

While they really should have spoken before now, life happens so much sometimes. It's unfortunate, letting the wound fester longer than it should, but Magne does at least know that it isn't beyond repair. After all, they still work together well in the kitchen, having occasionally paused to have one another taste test to make sure that something was coming out right. He still looks back at her like she hung the stars, and in turn she keeps him within arm's reach, ready and willing to lay a hand on him whenever he's started getting too into his own head. He loves her, and she's coming to terms with the idea that it's mutual.

Accepting the kiss on her cheek is second nature, even with the hiccup they haven't quite gotten over. Her hand immediately lights against his back, before she moves to scoop a heft serving of rice onto his plate, as well as a good amount of both types of meat she had used his cooktop to prepare.

"As long as you're alright staying still for a day," she quips, knowing well enough that he's not exactly likely to take time off if he doesn't have to. But she does see it for what it is: a chance to meet in that intervening time to actually have that talk that had been postponed, before they get back to work as usual.

[immortaldemonsoul]

Of course she does! Night elves are a very devoted people, and Ellarinne has even closer experience with her goddess than many.

"Ammy, then." Ellarinne smiles and holds out her hand. "Would you like head pats, Ammy?"

[amourtician]

"Nu, that would be him, darling," says Anzu, jabbing his thumb at Lev. "I'm just the rebbetzin."

Lev sputters; it's unclear if he's amused or horrified.

[graphomaniac]

"I'm Rov Morgenshtern," says Lev, a little hoarsely. "Nu. And like, don't listen to him. By his own merit, he's a rabbi. He'll just not admit it. But we kept our surnames on marriage, being that he's like, got good yikhud." Here, he pauses. "Um. That means he's from a big cheese rabbinical family? He's Menelikov."

Roger Rabbit | Who Framed Roger Rabbit? [OTA]

[whoframedme]

You could see it from a mile away. A mountain of a plate, stacked so high it shouldn't be standing with a bit of everything from that can be found on the serving table, a few things that can't, and one small stainless steel kitchen sink. In front of it, rummaging underneath the table, a rabbit speaks up.

"I can't believe it! I grabbed ketchup, an' mustard, an' salt, an' pepper, an' soy sauce, an' chocolate syrup, an' maple syrup, an' guacamole, an' queso, an' ranch, an' I still forgot a fork!"

[gnighteverybody]

"Talk about unforktunate," Yakko answers, laid out on the table.

"Lucky for you I'm at your service. And your crockery too-" at which point he picks the wobbling plate up, ready to scamper away.

Music Alwyn Szereban | OC [OTA]

[battlebyballad]

Oh how she loves things like this. No better way to connect to people than food.

Keep an eye out for the tiefling weaving her way through the crowds, humming and looking for conversation.

[sistermagnetic]

|Musutafu, Shizuoka|, she replies easily, clearly relieved to be able to speak more naturally. |Magne. [Big Sis] to the people that matter. You would be one of the new arrivals, yeah? You'll be at the Oak & Iron then. If you need any help, you can ask for me.|

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// Why did you explode? they ask in a tone of concerned bafflement, turning their head to stare at her with that newly purple optic. Deputy Pratt had died before he appeared on the Serena Eterna, so it's not impossible that Nimona could have also been brought to the ship after her death and restored to life by the Erda Flow. Still. // That sounds painful.

// I'm glad you're here, they respond. Remembering the last conversation they had with Nimona before they left to look for a way to rescue the remaining prisoners, they continue, // I'll tell you if I remember killing Malin. I see several people I recognise from the ship, which suggests the dimension was destroyed. Maybe her death caused it, like the Village.

[lovethyneighb_or]

Oh!

“Normally I would be all for them, but… I’m a bit of a stranger to most people here, even if I did come along with many of the new arrivals.”

He shakes the man’s hand. “I’m Father Mulcahy. Hawkeye mentioned you to me. You’re a veteran too?”

[lovethyneighb_or]

“I find myself freer than I’ve been in a very long time.” His smile is faint, though. Freedom as the sole survivor of the Village, and indeed his entire original voyage, is a bitter, bitter thing. But he is free.

“I’m glad to see you here as well. Have… you been here long?” He wouldn’t guess so based on the plain clothing, but perhaps that’s just her taste. She’s a Lieutenant who takes pride in the title, after all. “I stopped seeing you about after a while.”

[astrogator]

'Two days,' she answers softly. 'Two of the best days.'

Then there's a hesitation, but ultimately she decides to tell him the truth, because if she doesn't expect anything but scorn for it, then she can't be disappointed.

'I presume you know what I did.' Even here and now she won't breathe a word about the others involved. She owes Fever her silence, and there's no telling who else might be here. 'I was prepared for brutal retaliation from our captor. Instead I got brutal retaliation from my fellow prisoners. After that I was... in no condition to be up and about, really. It seems the injuries ultimately weren't survivable.'

Her words are flat, almost clinical, as if she's talking about someone else. Unlike most on the prison ship, Tayrey had never died and returned. In that bed in Arthur's cabin, though, she'd been in such pain that she was ready to go. Once she'd told Clarke all that she needed to - no duty left unfinished. She'd surprised herself with the strength of her assertion, afterwards, that she'd take the offer placed before her. That she wanted to come here, to this place. To live.

Ari!

[fuelmayor]

They've never spoken, only seen each other in passing over the course of a few weeks, but he stands out enough that she'll likely recognise him anyway.

The Fuelweaver - Number 119, for the duration of a deeply unpleasant chapter of his afterlife that feels far longer than it could possibly have been - is standing on the edge of the gathering precisely because he wasn't planning on eating any of the dishes. If he tried, he wouldn't gain any nourishment from it. He turns his skull to look at the dish Number 27 Lieutenant Tayrey indicated. It's soup with dumplings floating in it.

"It would be unsurprising, but I cannot be certain," he responds in a deep voice with an eerie resonance that doesn't at all fit with the acoustics of the room. "There are dishes at the far end of the table which contain only vegetables."

It's the same table Anzu is sitting on, and he labelled his ingredients.

[lovethyneighb_or]

"... I see," he says very softly, and his hands itch to do--something for her, a belated last rite or anything at all. It's his duty as a priest to ease suffering, and as an army chaplain, the passing of the dead. Nevermind what she's done. They're here now, and Christ is nothing if not forgiving.

But her affectation is flat. It's technical in the way Army-speak so often is: P.O.Ws, L.I.Ps, personnel, officers and enlisted and drafts. Anything to distance them from the violence.

Still, that never stopped him.

"... I know you aren't..." Pauses. Sighs. "I don't know how you feel about your situation, precisely, but one of my duties as a priest is to offer the last rites of the dying. I know you aren't Catholic, and I don't have any of my vestments, but... if would ease your heart, I can perform the prayer we offer to guide one's passage. Or one of another faith."

Not that it's technically allowed to offer rites for someone already passed (although they're all sort-of-maybe-dead), but he worked in a mobile army hospital near the front; he's broken that law hundreds of times already. Sometimes there just isn't time.

[thethirteenthchild]

Dahlia's eyebrows raise just slightly, and she sets down the dish she's been carrying nearby before turning back to Daisy. Her smile is subtle, practiced and polite like a curtsy.

"I'm a member of Town Council. Organizing events like these is busy work. It was important to us that you folks felt welcome here." She offers a handshake--- a slender, delicate hand with carefully manicured nails. None of which speaks to the Hunt even remotely. Whatever it is that makes her like Daisy, she's buried it. "I'm Dahlia Leeds, by the way. You?"