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]

Erin cocks her head. Snowflakes start forming in the smoke that surrounds her, prompting a hissed, "You quit that," at it, which returns the gunpowder to the trees and potatoes it was showing.

Louder: "You got it, you'll need to guide me though."

Finding a place to help grip the pot takes some careful feeling about.

[comedyequalstragedy]

Oh, fantastic, next she'll turn around and her Mien will feature a neon advertisement pointing to him in technicolour. Externally, of course, Gilbert demonstrates absolutely no acknowledgement of the change in her mantle, not even flinching at the small pops.

"You'll want to back up three steps, small ones, now er- where next, what happened to you- another few, but wait a moment, there's some people passing behind you. Now-"

This part at least is easy, directing people to carry around delicate equipment without dropping it is at least eighty percent of his day job.

"Do you need to readjust your grip? There's a table with a spare corner we can rest it on, at your left elbow."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin knows an excuse when she hears one, and she's gonna have to trust that this new person has picked this table for a reason. One has to give, with Winter, to receive. "I could take a moment, I ain't exactly at my sharpest."

Onto the table it goes, ceding the initiative to the new face. Thank God she had this conversation a few times already, she can try to have it more calmly this time.

Try.

[comedyequalstragedy]

...

Did she not hear-?

Ugh. He hates to repeat himself. This is already giving him a headache.

"Oh- er, your petticoat appears to be peeking out from under your skirt," that's a start, "how did that happen?"

Please, for the love of God get this one, there is only so many more ways to veil 'why can mortals see you'.

[crushed_pearls]

Ah. Okay. Erin had mistaken that for a crack about the eyes and she really should not have, she's spent entirely too much time around the conventionally mortal. Flex the old instincts, you've got this.

(Petticoat??)

WE HAVE THIS.

"...Fashions have changed with the times," Erin answers, kinda feeling her way through it but giving a stellar impression of having been caught out on her Literal Fashion Choices rather than, say, struggling with coded language. Gamble on a metaphor or don't gamble, gamble or don't gamble...

Half-gamble: "In fact, the underground scene at home has had to take a lot of inspiration from Mister Lovecraft. 'Stranger, remove your mask; we have all laid aside disguise but you'."

[comedyequalstragedy]

He gives her a flat look like she thinks he's an idiot. Gilbert can see that she doesn't have a Mask.

"Really!" full Walmart cashier in the strongest working-class London accent to ever not be coming out of a cab, "how interesting! I'm not very up to date on trends. I've always wondered how they come about- always worry about getting caught up in one unexpectedly."

Read: will what happened to you happen to me?

[crushed_pearls]

"You know, it just happened one day? The designer who learns the zeitgeist behind the trend will hit it big, but I don't think it'll catch on here."

Wait.

Hrm.

"Something you might want to know about your new circumstances: spreken ze Deutsch?"

[comedyequalstragedy]

That's all he wanted to know.

"Not at all. Ready to keep going? Not too much further, I'd hate for it to cool down before anyone can try some. I think it's chilli."

He hasn't checked.

[crushed_pearls]

Well, there goes her best idea for a relatively private conversation given that she doesn't speak the cant, so...

"Yep, let's do this." The straining sounds Erin makes are not faked at all, she's still feeling so god damn weak. At least there's a conversational question that's not gonna be weird in the context, at least not to maybe anyone other than the locals. "I hope I'm not taking too wild a guess when I assume you're from an Earth, what year was it for you?"

[comedyequalstragedy]

"2024, by the last date I checked," he does hope that Erin doesn't do the thing that modern Changelings do and act surprised that he's from recently enough to know what the bloody moon landing is.

"And earth, yes. If you know to ask, then I presume the same."

Clears his throat.

"I'll be helping for the rest of the potluck, but if you care to make proper introductions, you can find me afterwards."

Somewhere private, but that goes without saying.

Briiiiieeeeeef timeskip

[crushed_pearls]

"Twenty twenty four...you're in my future," Erin says with just a touch of wonder. "That's fascinating, honestly. Love to pick your brain about it once I get squared away. I won't be a stranger."

Later, much later that evening, despite and in some senses because of the warnings not to go out after dark, Erin contacts Gilbert by sending stone, short and to the point.

"Train station. The staff are at home in bed. I extend my aegis."

[comedyequalstragedy]

"Acknowledged."

And sure enough, Gilbert is there, sat on one of the benches, sleeves glittering in the breeze that rolls down the tracks from the mountains, hands clasped together. He imagines he might look like one of those gents from a noir film, if his tailoring were halfway to decent.

When she arrives, he greets her with a nod.

"Gilbert Fitzroy. You have my apologies for the brusqueness earlier."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's tailoring isn't exactly any better, though she's still wearing the pocket square Annabel gave her. She offers up a brittle smile. "Nothing to be sorry for, I'm badly out of practice. But...I know I'm not sleeping tonight. New place. New people. Everything else. Might as well be helpful."

She sighs, her breath steaming faintly in the night air. Her Mantle, so energetic before, has become a sad and wet thing, fizzling against the ground.

"It's gonna be a long story no matter which one you pick."

[comedyequalstragedy]

"I've never known a short story," Gilbert's breath does not steam at all.

"Start where you start and we'll make our way from there."

[crushed_pearls]

"My name's Erin Peters. American, if it wasn't obvious, most recently out of New Avalon, Maryland. For the last...Christ...year and a half? Two years? I've not been on Earth. Like a lot of the new arrivals I was imprisoned in a false reality taking the form of a cruise ship, cut off from Earth, cut off from the Hedge, cut off from every kind of existence I'd ever known. They could see me there, too, but that's actually from home."

She goes to reach in her pocket and stops herself. "...I'd kill a man for a smoke," Erin mutters. "...The Mask is just gone at home, Gilbert. Gone and done. The Lost walk among the blind, and the blind see."

[comedyequalstragedy]

He respectfully makes no comment on the obviousness of her Americanness.

"The boat I've heard so much about," and by heard he does mean eavesdropped about, "and... how? Why? To what end?"

[crushed_pearls]

"Fuel," Erin answers simply. "Maybe company for that place's master, but mostly, fuel. It ran on passion, not Glamour but something like it enough for government work. I don't know how or why I got picked, only that somewhere back on my Earth there's an original running around that doesn't know I exist. Which is...fun. I hope her life is going better."

It is.

"As for the Mask, no one knows, or if they know they're not talking. It's been just me. There were Lost on the ship but they were Masked wholly, and this is the part of the story where you get real upset about me, 'cause I tanked attention off them by being real open."

[comedyequalstragedy]

He nods, considering. Not like the old Masters then, but close enough to make his skin crawl. He nearly comments on it, before Erin opens her mouth again, and...

Gilbert places his head in both hands.

"I would like you to time two minutes before you speak again, so that I may look back on this moment as the last before I was inflicted with a permanent headache."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin is whole-ass silent for two minutes, with metronome precision.

[comedyequalstragedy]

"Thank you."

Always can trust one of the musical types to have perfect timing. It's why he asked.

"Alright. I'm braced. Proceed with headache infliction, at your leisure."

[crushed_pearls]

"Least I can do. We didn't have a Winter...another Spring, couple Autumns for awhile, and a courtless youngblood taken just after his Homecoming. Poor bastard." Okie truly was there too. He deserved better. Erin's hands slide into her pockets, and she turns away as if to gaze out at the woods. "...Some things are more common knowledge than others. The Courts I told nearly everyone about, trying to make our culture make any kind of sense. Had to do that a lot back home too, everyone asks the pretty lady at the bar what her deal is. Pledges...a bit more scattered. Lieutenant Tayrey knows, you can pick her out by her greeting 'peace and prosperity', my little sister Ruby knows, she's the short lass with one eye. Daisy Tonner, the blond Welsh woman with the absolutely rancid vibes, she's in, I've been working on her dreams for months and months and months." Erin falters, for a moment. "...Valdis. The belle of the potluck, reserved, dark hair. Funny as hell. Same deal, dream pact. Few folks know about iron, not too many. And all of 'em know about the idea of the Mask."

[comedyequalstragedy]

At his temple, near the curls of his hair, the glazing on his porcelain crackles. Then after a moment, he raises both eyebrows, looking around for a moment as if he's waiting to be struck by lightning.

"Hm. Bad. This will make keeping us concealed... difficult."

In the same way that Kilimanjaro is a bit of a steep hill.

"Pledges, the courts, the mask, iron, oneiromancy... Is there anything you didn't tell them about? Please tell me that you didn't tell them about the Neighbours."

[crushed_pearls]

"The gods of nightmare," Erin murmurs. "...They know. There was no avoiding that one, Gilbert, not...I needed help to not lose what's left of my mind in that iron box. They had to know."

It's almost a plea.

[comedyequalstragedy]

"Fantastic. The people are not Lost to every outsider and are in fact just a bit turned around. And if you had sworn them to secrecy, I imagine that'd be the first thing you'd tell me."

A long, deep, whistling breath.

"I'm not anyone of any rank, Erin. I don't know what to do to clean this up. I'm good at making phone calls and getting people where they need to be, and that's about it. But it can't... the cat can't stay out of this bag. I have-" a person to protect- "we have to corral this."

[crushed_pearls]

"Mm. And the trouble with asking them for help is that'd raise general suspicion as it is. But honestly you may just be able to get away with going stealth. Just don't pop the flashy Mirror tricks or you're sunk, people know those too well from me. Size-changing, turning into a forklift." She snorts a small laugh. "...The forklift incident was a good one. Freed a lot of people from durance vile."