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

[crushed_pearls]

There's an initial resistance, a force not tied to fear that anchors and grounds this stranger, and then a different feeling; intentionally lowering that resistance, letting Jon in before it can be overcome.

She doesn't do that a lot.

"My name is Erin Peters, and I first heard of you through my lover, Daisy Tonner. I met a version of you in her past who did me a great service that I've been unable to repay."

[apocryphalarchivist]

Jon opens his mouth to reply, and closes it. He stares at her for a few moments, processing. Well, she did say that it would be insane. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it sure wasn't that!

(It's a bit of a one-two punch after the feeling of palpable resistance that left him just as puzzled. Questions about that are for later, though.)

"...Let me repeat this to make sure I've heard you right. You're in... some manner of relationship with Daisy Tonner, you somehow not only viewed but interacted with her past, and spoke with her recollection of me directly for assistance. Not only did this past version of myself interact directly back, but helped with whatever you asked."

He lets that hang in the air for a moment before his brows furrow further, and all that composure he had while compelling washes away. He's completely and utterly baffled again.

"I---" He tries to pick words again, fails, and moves his hands in a "I got nothing" gesture. He's really trying here, and unfortunately, the moving pieces of that aren't quite linking together, leaving the poor bastard short-circuiting. "What?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin pats him on the shoulder. "Let me answer all of those implied questions with two of my own: if you could take an Avatar somewhere the Fears aren't, how would you set about treating their condition?"

"And are the Dread Powers here, Jon, or is it just that fear is fear no matter where you go?"

[apocryphalarchivist]

That's one hell of a question. It gives him pause, and he frowns gently, thoughtfully.

"I suppose... it'd be the same as being dropped somewhere barren," He answers, a bit grim. "Try as you might to find sustenance, you'd eventually wither away. Not unless you could remove the very core of what tethers them to the Fear that's claimed them. As for if they're here, and can exert their influence on these people, I... don't know."

His last words come with a bit of reluctance. Even so early into his being an Avatar, not knowing doesn't sit well with him at all.

[crushed_pearls]

"The you I met theorized that Daisy, cut off from the Hunt, was sustaining her state by her own fear of that Power," Erin says softly. "That in its absence, she might be able to asset control over her nature, be her own monster. And that you was right. That's what I owe you for."

[apocryphalarchivist]

His brows immediately lift with interest, and he lets out a quiet 'huh', lifting a thoughtful hand to his mouth.

"A self-nourishing cycle of fear and it's own consumption," He murmurs. "That... adds up, now that I think about it. I'd never considered that an Avatar could feed off their own fear, but if there was no tie, no higher tier of the food chain to take that energy..."

His gaze drifts off to the side as he falls into thought, but he catches himself, looks back Erin's way, and clears his throat.

"I'm glad that--- some version of myself could help, even if the way I helped is still a bit, ah. Nebulous to me." He offers a hand to shake. "But even still, the semantics matter less than someone being free of the Dread Powers, one way or another."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin takes that hand with goodwill. "Yeah. So, if you need anything, I'm on the table. I've got dubious life advice, a grab bag of skills, oneiromancy, and the most incomprehensible violence you'll ever witness."

[apocryphalarchivist]

Yet another round of bizarre things that he was going to have to jot mental notes down of. She sure was a lot to take in, but at least she seemed happy enough to be pleasant about it?

"I was going to say that I doubt I'll need incomprehensible violence, but with the way things have been going lately, I'm not all too sure. But right this moment, I think that's quite alright. Don't want to go causing a ruckus and ruin the potluck."

Half-joke, half vague advice: please, please don't go committing incomprehensible violence on the potluck.

[crushed_pearls]

"You don't have to worry about me breaking hospitality, Jon. I can't really think of a higher crime."

[apocryphalarchivist]

"I don't doubt it, but you can never be sure. Demons crashing parties and all that sort of thing."

He neglects to elaborate, and instead leans over to the table to grab his glass of floral tea to take a drink.

[crushed_pearls]

"...Homie, question, did you make the tea? I haven't had proper tea in a dog's age."

[apocryphalarchivist]

A surprising question, but his brows shoot up, and he brightens. One could practically see the small Friendship Point Gain in the air over his head.

"I did! I figured, well--- enough people were already intending to bring food, I should try to focus on a side dish and something to drink. Care for a cup?"

As he asks, he's already going for one of the ornately-decorated teacups Town Hall provided, and lifts it by the handle to accent the question.

[crushed_pearls]

"God yes. Been drinking corporate American tea for more than a year, fucking colonize me my dude."

Look at her Jon.

Look at her tea lust.

[apocryphalarchivist]

He's tried to keep himself all level-headed and proper for the potluck, but that hits him like a sucker-punch. His face scrunches, but there's no disgust, nor confusion. Nothing negative whatsoever.

He barks a laugh, louder than he meant to, and from the looks of it, this poor bastard doesn't laugh nearly often enough.

"Oh--- god, you poor, depraved soul!" He's simmering down into quieter laughter, but that still is clearly getting his ass. "Say no more, I've got you."

The teapot is a quaint, porcelain thing, and he holds the lid gently. There's a couple teapots around it, but the way he instantly goes for one indicates that this one is by far the winner of the bunch. Before he passes it over, he adds only a half-pinch of sugar. Something to really bring out the lighter notes of this particular blend.

"Here, here. Tell me if you like it, but if it isn't, ah... your cup of tea, pun half-intended, I've got a milk tea and the closest thing to a Yorkshire breakfast I could find as well."

[NOT HERE]

[itsjustabaddream]

Just a second or two before Jon laughs, Neil chokes on his own sip of tea, coughing and laughing and thumping his chest. He's lucky no tea comes up his nose.

[crushed_pearls]

"I'll admit, I usually commit crimes on my tea. Got the metabolism of a hummingbird and the athletic schedule of, not to put too fine a point on it, a hummingbird."

And yet when Erin takes her first sip she makes a happy, wonderful sound, wings and ears both twitching as she savors it.