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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.

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Nimona hates the idea of having to explain herself to Edgar, but she's terrified of the possibility that he'll get up and walk away from her.

She can't let him do that. She can't.

At nearly the same pitch as the dog's whine, she forces out one word: "Ed?"

This time his head whips toward the sound as if jerked by a string, his eyes widening, his mouth falling a little open.

"Nimona?"

That's all it takes for the apprehension to shatter.

Nimona catapults herself from under the table, tackles Edgar to the cobblestones, and starts licking his face like he faceplanted right into the cold cut tray, her tail whipping back and forth so fast that it blurs.

Edited 2024-03-08 18:53 (UTC)

"Hey, hey --"

Edgar doesn't even try to push himself back up from the ground; he wraps his arms around the wriggling, whining pink dog that Nimona currently is, holding her close, and if she holds still long enough (and long enough is only a moment) he'll bury his face as well as his fingers in her fur.

"It's okay," he mutters hoarsely, "we're okay, bug, I got you, I'm here."

His arms, tight around her, are shaking just a little bit.

She keens, shoving her cold nose into Edgar's ear before it gets a few frantic licks, too. He's okay. He's here. Nimona flops all her weight onto him, her tail smacking against his lower legs with each wag.

"When'd you get here?" she manages to ask -- and oh, it's easier than she thought; it's not about using her voice like a human would, it's just talking to her buddy Ed. That's all it has to be for now. "You're really okay?"

She can't lick his face anymore when he's got it buried in her fur, so she opts to start licking his hair instead.

"Only just got here, like a day or two maybe -- what about you, when did you get here?"

He's ... yeah, he's gonna let the lickings go on a little bit longer. His hand comes up and scritches the top of her head.

"Dunno," she says. It doesn't sound like Nimona's typical nonchalance; more like Edgar suggested she do something absurd and burdensome, like spend five hours a day standing on her head. "Not that long."

Her ears flick as she angles her head into Edgar's palm. Trust Ed to give good hugs and good scritches when she's messed up.

"Glad you're here, bug." He draws in a quick breath through his nose, one that is absolutely not a sniff, shut up, you're imagining things. "Real glad."

"... not to complain but d'you think I could sit up for a bit, there's a rock or some fuckin thing right under my spine and I don't think it likes me."

At last, a glint of Nimona's usual mischief lights her eye. "Well, what're you squishing the rocks for? Pretty rude, Ed," she says airily. "I'd be mad too if somebody squashed me."

She punctuates that by nimbly vaulting off his chest. Once she's landed, Nimona stretches forward into a bow, cranes her back legs further behind her, then shakes herself all over. Pink sparks erupt from her fur like a cloud of glitter.

When the kinda-literal dust settles, she's bigger, but not too changed: an equally lanky wolf that can't fit under the tables so easily.

Edgar hauls himself up to a sitting position, scoots back out of where people might want to walk, and pats the ground next to him to invite Nimona back into hugging range.

"So," he says, "was that you knocked over the platter, or did you just happen to be around when someone else did it?"

"Yeah, that was me," she says, a little sheepish. (The fact that she's not immediately denying it and actually sounds a touch chagrined might speak to how not-herself Nimona feels lately. Or maybe it's just, gasp, personal growth! One or the other, the narration's sure.)

Unhesitating, she plops down next to Edgar and leans against him as aggressively as she can. "I was just going for the roast beef. It got stuck on the other stuff."

He puts an arm around her shaggy frame and leans back against her, not so aggressively but enough to keep her from sloooowly pushing him over.

"Wanna help me pick it all back up, or what?"

She shrugs, noncommittal.

"We could have a cold cut party on the ground," she suggests. "Not as cool as a pizza party, but not bad either."

"... we could do that," he allows judiciously. "Maybe knock over some bread to go with it?"

Completely serious. Look how serious that face is.

So serious. Gloreth herself would tremble in the face of such seriousness.

Nimona arranges her expression into equal solemnity, giving him a nod. "Guard the ham," she says. "I'm going in."

She licks his hair again, making sure it sticks up in an extra-ridiculous-looking way, and trots back toward the tables. Turns out someone thoughtfully left a ton of dinner rolls next to the (now missing) cold cut tray, the better to make a bunch of little sandwiches, and all it takes is one tiny...

CRASH.

A second tray rolls away from the potluck like a single tire rolling away from a car crash, scattering bread as it goes.

Edgar snatches as many of the rolls as he can before they, true to their name, roll away. He should probably feel a little guilty about encouraging Nimona to wreak chaos, but honestly, after what she's been through he's ready to defend this to anyone.

"Not gonna suggest we knock over any mustard though," he says, pulling open a roll and starting to stuff ham slices into it, "that'd be a mess."

Ahh, it does a shapeshifter's heart good to break some stuff. Kinda. Baby steps, she's still getting her feet under her.

"Mustard's gross anyway," she declares, flopping beside Edgar and craning her neck to snap up one of the rolls. Rather than try to construct a sandwich with no opposable thumbs, she just grabs a mouthful of salami, too, chewing both meat and bread together.

"What? No, mustard's good stuff," he protests mildly, brushing some dirt off a couple of slices of turkey and adding them to his already overstuffed sandwich. "Not as good as barbecue sauce though."

CHOMP.

"Oooh, yeah," says Nimona around her mouthful of food. "Barbecue."

She barely pauses before snarfing down a hunk of roast beef.

"You ever get a chance to do that on an real grill? 'Cause if not we gotta steal somebody's grill sometime."

He shakes his head, munching.

"Nnw wha," he starts, pauses, chews a little more vigorously and swallows.

Take two! "Know what, I bet Max knows how to do that on a grill. We should ask him."

"Max?"

Her ears swivel upright; hope ignites in her eyes.

"He made it too? He's okay?"

"Yeah! He's here, there's so many people here from the ship, I dunno what the hell happened but that's why they're doing this whole party thing, cause so many new people have been showing up."

"Maybe somebody yanked Malin's other eye out," she says, abruptly vicious. "Killed all of us, but killed her right in her shitty face too."

The flash of rage doesn't vanish right away; the echoes remain, like thunder after a lightning strike, even as Nimona bends her head to sniff for more cold cuts. "But -- yeah. My cell was pretty close to Max's, so we were talking for a while. I'm glad he made it."

Especially since he and Edgar --

Hang on. THAT'S RIGHT.

"Speaking of that -- " and she nips one of Edgar's overlarge ears, lightly, like he's a puppy to be scolded, "HOW COME YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND, HUH?!"

Her initial vehemence sparks an answering anger in him, likewise slow to subside. He's about to respond to it, when --

"What ack get off," and he splutters a little and ineffectively swats her away from his ear, half laughing. "What are you on about, he's not my boyfriend, he's got a whole pack of people he's with."

"Oh, riiiiight, he's just a frieeeeennnd," says Nimona, proving exactly why everyone made the right choice in concealing Edgar's love life from her. "My bad."

Any second now she's gonna burst out with Ed and Maa-aaax sittin' in a tree --

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hate_gettin_older - 2024-03-13 22:26 (UTC) - Expand

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yournewsidekick - 2024-03-14 00:48 (UTC) - Expand

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