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

Lord Erik Osborne | OTA | Current Player!

[lordoftheozarks]

Potluck. Oh. That's a little tricky for him. He hasn't cooked anything since...wait! He still has some of his homemade fudge stored in the freezer. For some reason (a very good reason) no one wanted to sample any more of it after Givingstide. This is the perfect opportunity to get rid of--er--share it. Yes.

"Mmm, there..." he says, awkwardly placing it on the end of the dessert table and sort of fussing with which direction to face the pan. It's still frozen right now but surely it will thaw out quickly. Right?

[pineapplesalmon]

César, completely clueless and unable to see what he's doing from Erik's back facing him, waves to him. "Hi, Erik! How's the cursed knowledge treating you?"

[lordoftheozarks]

Erik peeks over one shoulder. "If that is what you think constitutes cursed knowledge then you should count yourself lucky. The things I could tell you..."

[pineapplesalmon]

César laughs. "It's not really that cursed. More fun to say that it is."

He walks around and looks down to the plate. "Oh what did you bring? Fudge?"

[lordoftheozarks]

"I don't know. It seemed to bring you plenty of luck with your lady." Did you think he wouldn't tease you about that?

"Yes. I tried my hand at it for the first time recently. Would you like to try some?"

[pineapplesalmon]

César can't help but laugh, amused and embarrassed. "... I suppose it does. Sometimes we switch to Japanese when we want a little more privacy. But she honestly found me first."

He nods. "I would! ... now which piece, hmm." Give him a moment.

[crushed_pearls]

"Yo Lord Leech!" Erin has had food, alcohol, and loved ones, she's fucking ready. "I feel like shit, so be polite and hold still so I can fucking deck you. Y'know, for the culture.

Erin's striding over but she really does look and feel like shit; her heart rate is slower than it should be, she's breathing hard. Barely at fighting fit.

CW: offhand NSFW commentary in here

[lordoftheozarks]

Well. He can now confidently say he knows what it feels like to have his asshole pucker up around a butt plug. Of all days to make good on that pact with River... it had to be the day this bitch shows up.

"If you insist," he says utterly deadpan, but then quickly glances around to catch the eyes of Chris and give a small warning shake of his head because he can already hear their heart speeding up from here.

At least everything about Erin right now makes her seem like a stiff enough wind could knock her over. So. He can probably survive one punch. "I'm letting you have this one, but I will not let you have a second."

[crushed_pearls]

"Gracious of you," Erin growls; absolutely no time is wasted, the moment she's in range the Lost comes in with a fist right to the nose, all her weight and what she's got of her strength behind it. "That's for breaking the terms of our peace you walking dialysis machine!"

cw: broken bones/blood

[lordoftheozarks]

He's in the middle of rolling his eyes when the hit lands. And then, even through the pain and the very audible crack of his nose breaking, all he can really think to himself is--What did she just call me??

He staggers back, holding his nose and tipping his head down to allow for the few drops of blood that fall to hit the grass instead of his nice suit. His nose will heal in a moment but until then, he sounds like he has a head cold.

"With that out of the way, I'd like to know how you think I breached our agreement."

[crushed_pearls]

"I distinctly remember telling your ass to leave Max alone. That was the condition, and what do I catch less than a week later? My little brother had a talk with Store Brand Count Chocula. Fucker." Erin shakes her hand; that hurt her knuckles, as all good punches should. "And before you say some weasel shit about 'under duress', that's kinda the fuckin' context of making peace."

[abhorrently]

Oh hey, dessert. Walking by, she takes a square, biting into it and expecting something else wonderful. And...

It's. Edible.

That's going to have to be enough. She gets a napkin, and Erik will probably see the stranger taking two more squares and wrapping them up to tuck in her jacket pocket. Not an ideal snack for later, but very portable.

[lordoftheozarks]

Someone is taking his fudge! He watches, excited to see what she thinks. Well. She didn't spit it out. So it must be all right. And, oh, she's taking more for later. Is this... how Max felt? When someone enjoyed what he had made? Should he say something? He should, shouldn't he?

"I'm glad to see you enjoying my contribution. Welcome, you must be one of the new arrivals. I am Lord Erik Osborne."

[abhorrently]

Enjoying is...one word for it. She isn't going to burst his bubble when he introduces himself with a proper title, but she is going to quietly remember to pretend she's eaten if he's bringing sweets again.

"Well met, Lord Osborne. You have it exactly right. I'm Fever, and thank you for your addition to the table."

[lordoftheozarks]

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Fever. Thank you for saying so. How are you finding our town's hospitality so far?"

[abhorrently]

"Very well, actually. I find myself surprised at how abundant this place is in generosity. In many ways, it's a vast improvement in conditions, one truly to die for."

Her face is the picture of gentle innocence. And yet.

[immortaldemonsoul]

The thing of it, Ellarinne just came off a year learning how to make soup from bipedal walrus people.

The thing of it is, tuskarr, as said walrus people call themselves, have different aesthetic sensibilities than other races. They rely much less on sight, and much more on scent and texture. Especially in their food.

Which means Ellarinne's just come off a year of acclimating to food that looks disgusting, but is both delicious and extremely nutritious.

So hopefully she'll be able to forgive herself for thinking the fudge is some kind of blood pudding.

She carefully scoops some into a bowl and eats it with a spoon. It is not blood pudding.

Her ears stand straight out from her head, stiff in a way they almost never are. Her eyebrows shoot up. Behind her blindfold a green glow where her eyes should be begins to appear.

She shudders, struggles with it -- and finally swallows. "Who brought this?" she asks weakly. "I fear it may have gone bad."

[lordoftheozarks]

"What?" Erik rushes over alarmed. "Did it spoil in the heat?" No. No, it did not. The heat could do nothing worse to this dish than he did himself.

[immortaldemonsoul]

"I don't think so?" It doesn't taste rancid, just wrong. She looks around for her wine. Anything to wash this taste out of her mouth.

"Do you know who brought it in?" she innocently asks the kind bystander who definitely just rushed over to check on her with no personal stake in the offing at all. "I can't even tell what they were trying to make."

[lordoftheozarks]

"Oh. I see." He looks utterly crestfallen. That Fever woman didn't say anything when she had a bite. Was she just trying to be polite?

"It was supposed to be fudge. But, if it's that bad perhaps I should take it back off the table."

[immortaldemonsoul]

For the second time in as many minutes Ellarinne's ears stand up straight with horror. "This is your dish? Oh sir, I'm so sorry! That was unconscionably rude of me!"

She reaches out to take Erik's hand, clasping it gently as she tells him earnestly, "If it's fudge, then you probably cooked it for too long, and at too low a temperature. You may have also used the wrong pot, or placed it on the fire incorrectly so it was heated unevenly. It's also possible that you overheated the butter, which would have caused it to separate from the other ingredients. These are all avoidable problems with the correct tools and an experienced eye to guide you." She smiles at him sheepishly. "Although, you're probably not interested in hearing my advice after my rudeness just now..."

[when_a_grids_misaligned]

A young androgyne with a bird's nest of black hair dressed in newcomers' clothes is eyeing the pan dubiously as Erik turns it this way and that. "Trying to get its best angle?"

[lordoftheozarks]

"I suppose I am," he says, finally deciding to simply let it sit where it may now after so much fuss.

"I do not often attend functions like these. Ah, but allow me to introduce myself. I am Lorde Erik Osborne. I take it you're a newer arrival?"

[when_a_grids_misaligned]

"What is it, anyways?" It's... brown. And flat. And smells sort of nutty. They're not sure if it's an appetiser, a dessert, or a really weird main course.

"I'm Moiré Myrekrig." The surname's Danish, although of course it's not the one they were born with. (Their accent, however, is Canadian.) They pluck at the fabric of their shirt and sardonically add, "What gave it away?"

[lordoftheozarks]

"It's fudge." He's really trying not to be insulted that anyone has to ask. Shouldn't it be obvious? Maybe it's just not so well-known wherever this person comes from. That's what he's choosing to cling to.

"And, yes, the clothes do give it away but I am also making it a habit to recognize faces and yours is new, Moiré." He pronounces it in the exact way that they themselves did even though the rest of his accent is deceptively unremarkable Midwestern English.