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Mingle - Emergency Potluck

Pumpkin Hollow Community Bulletin

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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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There’s a pair of new arrivals who don’t…seem to be in step with the rest of the crowd.

On the one hand, there’s a nervous looking fellow named Gilbert who seems to be doing his very best to make himself useful. You’ll find him clearing space on one of the tables for you to set food down, or asking you where he can find some extra napkins (someone appears to have nabbed a good number of them), or even just asking you directly “do you want a hand with that?” His tone never shifts from the overt helpfulness that can only be recognized as ‘customer service voice’.

His accent betrays that he’s a little rougher than his refined appearance would suggest, being solidly working class, clipped in some places and smooth in others. To those with eyes to see, especially those aligned with fae magic, this perfectly normal gentleman has an air of unnaturality about him. His colouration doesn’t sit correctly on his face, spilling over his features like a painted figurine, and similarly, his fingers are entirely smooth and jointless. He looks as if he walked out of a music box. The simple clothes he was given glimmers with small crystals of ice on the sleeves and pant legs, catching the light as he moves.

Anyone holding an instrument gets glanced at occasionally, thick with envy.

And on the other hand there's a man who answers to the name of George. He seems at once to take up space, intentional and confident, and to blend into the background like a statue or piece of furniture. Not quite so helpful as his counterpart, but more than willing to step in if he sees someone in need of assistance.

For those who can see it, this gentleman’s stony face is entirely literal. He appears smooth and polished as a fine marble statue, patterned with veins and striations the way stone is. His features are chiseled by necessity, and his gaze is piercing. A smell of leather conditioner seems to follow him, sourceless but ever-present.

He's watching the crowd, impassive, filing away observations for later use, looking for the best places to spend his time networking.

Valdis sits to the side, now just observing everyone as they move and mingle around the town square. The souls all vary, and with her powers intact she can see deeper now than before. The colors and lights held within souls, the brightness or darkness, but it gives her a headache when her sight sits there for more than a few seconds, perhaps she just needs to 'flex' the muscles as it were.

Still, she's seeing some interesting things even without soul sight, there are more changelings here, though she's not certain which court they belong to. Her gaze flits over to where Max is, still helping people with their food, then back to the man helping at another table. He seems nervous, awkward, almost...robotic in a way, as if he's acting as he was trained instead of fully conscious, ambling about trying to be helpful.

She smiles when he asks her about napkins. "I'm sorry, I don't know where to find some, but perhaps I can help you look?"

Gilbert smiles back, which does not reach his feelings below the mask.

"Thank you, only if it isn't a bother, yes," he does not especially want her to help but it's not like he can say no.

"These kinds of little gatherings are quite sweet, but I find that it leads to nobody knowing what they're doing."

She gives her head a tiny shake, sensing his...displeasure? resignation? Either way, he doesn't want to accept her offer.

"No, it's not really a bother, but if you would rather not have the company, I would understand."

... hm.

"I'm so sorry- it's just my manner of being polite, I do appreciate the assistance, really, it just isn't my intention to put anyone out."

A slight air of suspicion, now.

He smiles again, "Gilbert Fitzroy, how do you do?"

Oh, that feeling is easy to figure out, it's a common one and tends to feel the same across individuals.

"Please, no need to apologize." She replies, keeping her friendly smile. "My name is Valdis. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He feels a little cold too, and the ice crystals...perhaps Winter? He's more reserved than Erin and Okie, more like the others from the Eterna, but also a tad surly.

"Charmed."

There is a deep, deep nervousness, not unlike someone having the spotlight turned on them unexpectedly.

"No surname?"

"Not at this time."

Her smiles turns soft and disarming, but it is still quite genuine.

"Are you enjoying the party?"

"I suppose one can pick up and set them down as one pleases these days," he muses, with no further indication as to what he means.

"As well as anyone can and no less. Yourself? Do you dance?"

She notes the odd turn of phrase, but it's along the lines of the other changelings she's met. Aside from Erin, Erin is very direct.

"I love to dance, but only if I have a good partner."

"Oh, that's alr -- "

That tone. Only one place leaves its survivors so polished, so flawlessly plastic.

Something behind Dimitri's eyes goes click. A mild smile snaps onto his face. Smoothly, he sets down the tongs he's been fumbling with. When he speaks again, the clipped, blunt-edged accent has been erased for a perfect English arch. " -- quite alright. There's no need to trouble yourself."

There is a very split second where Gilbert rankles with the idea of being made fun of for his accent. Then he looks and-

...

Changelings are infertile, there is absolutely no way that that man reproduced in all his cavorting. Right?

So it has to be someone else who may have been at the table. Simple enough- if George could arrive with him, so could someone else, even if they hadn't met.

"If you're certain!" he chimes, because he might not have been a Guest but like hell he's bloody serving one, "quite a gathering, isn't it?"

Not a face Dimitri recognizes. He can't remember every face that slid by at that table, but he's certain he would recognize them. He thinks.

"It is, it is." Cheerful, and riotous, and -- something struggles against the ticking clockwork, churned bloody in the gears' teeth. Dimitri blinks. The world swims, blurs, scenes doubled-tripled and overlaid on each other. "It's good to see people enjoying themselves. Any sign of a guest of honor?"

Funny -- there's a whiff of Wyrd on him, but no Mask or Mien.

"Not here, I shouldn't think," he says mildly, "nobody you ought to concern yourself with, in any case."

Hm. The lack of Mask is something he noticed on Erin, but no Mien either?

Quieter, "You know where you are, yes?"

A light, easy tone; a taxidermied stare. "Hm? Of course -- "

The thing in the clockwork latches onto a tooth, just long enough for the machine to stutter. Dimitri blinks. A hair of tremor creeps into his voice. "Forgive the, the odd question, but -- what color are my eyes?"

"No stranger than any other question I'll field today. Blue, lad, your eyes are blue."

He never went through a Blue period, did he? Red, certainly, for a good long while, but he can't remember if He ever went in for Blue or just skipped right to throwing out colours entirely because he was bored with them.

Tension snaps like an overwound spring. Dimitri's posture crumples inward. "O-oh. Oh -- "

Comprehension comes with horror: where he is, what he's done. Where he isn't. Earlier he'd felt well enough to try fish, and now he's regretting it. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll -- I should -- pardon me, I -- "

He takes a hurried step back. Spotting a break in the gathering, he bolts.

At least he makes it behind a bush before he retches.

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Mingle - Emergency Potluck

Gilbert Fitzroy + George Elsworth | Changeling OCs | OTA | Existing players

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cw emeto (brief)