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

I find it kinda sad

[crushed_pearls]

"Youngblood if you don't eat your food Imma cry. You ever seen a bitch with no eyes cry? It's awful."

Is this Erin's Steve? Time to find out.

[inhairently]

Steve isn't religious by any means, but when you're told you're probably dead and then get sat by a very imposing woman with a strange blindfold and wings at the cookout... well, it's easy to infer some things. Potentially incorrect things, but things all the same.

He ticks through a mental list of questions he could ask, but probably shouldn't, before finally settling on, "How can you tell I'm not eating?"

[crushed_pearls]

Not her Steve, she had the blindfold talk with him on the ship.

"Well, I could go into a big long explanation about this magic blindfold, or I can point out that I'm not hearing your fork against the plate or you chewing. I'm blind, not deaf." She reaches across her own body to offer a handshake. "Erin Peters, and you're Steve. You haven't met me."

[inhairently]

Holy shit, she has wings and a magic blindfold and she knows his name. Steve feels like what he's about to say is really fucking stupid and exactly the sort of thing that would have his friends rolling their eyes and sighing in exasperation over his failure to know every nerdy little detail about every supernatural creature, but he has to ask.

He has to. He's probably wrong, but he has to.

Leaning in just a little closer so he can address her in a loud whisper, he asks, "Are you like— are you my guardian angel or something?"

It makes sense, okay? He is dead-or-something-close-to-it, after all.

By tradition I declare: damn OCs and their one liners

[crushed_pearls]

"You wish. I'm a reformed criminal with a soft spot for youngbloods. 'm from fuckin' Connecticut my guy."

[inhairently]

"Oh."

He sounds a little disappointed.

"Sooo... how do you know my name? Pretty sure I've never been to Connecticut."

Especially not whatever Connecticut she's talking about.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin visibly thinks that over for a bit, and then shakes her head. "I don't think you wanna know. It'll only make your life worse. The important bit is this: I've got some of the story, about Hawkins. From you, a bit. Another guy by the name of Eddie, and a lass named Chrissy, a cheerleader if memory serves. About some shit normal people wouldn't believe. I don't gotta bring it up again, but you had a right to know. And I can be a good listener, if you need one."