Mingle - Emergency Potluck

[pumpkinhollow]

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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

[abhorrently]

I still hear the blood.

There's a twitch in her expression, a shift, a different kind of tension that's not fear or nervousness or anything else, but a focus. An alert, the feeling of a gaze met across a crowded room. And there's a great crashing in her head, shattering glass, lightning struck and the ozone burning in the aftermath.

Kinship, potentially. If she raises her hands to the mirror, will others come to meet her.

There's a pause when Daisy finishes, and Fever leans back on her hands, addresses her words to the sky.

"...I'm a monster too."

That's really the only word for it, isn't it. She can play nice all she wants, but at the end of the day, she's still a hunting hound for horrors. Still the horror herself. If she thinks too hard, she'll taste the blood behind her teeth.

"It...isn't a conversation for here."

This place of friendliness, of these people trying to welcome them in, allowing them to set their feet down after the Serena Eterna, sunlight and the chill of early spring. They can't hear it. Can't know. She's already going to place herself in a corner if that Dr. West hears about her and decides she's unfit to live among them. And telling Daisy about this -

It hits her in that moment that step by small step, she's been wanting to tell people the truth. Wanting again, to say something, and have it be understood. To slowly build a circle that sees her unmasked, and perhaps, at least, they do not chase her away so far.

[hadnoright]

It's hard to miss the shift as it happens. The eye of a predator is trained to catch subtleties, to know when to attack, and the mind of a Hunter is wired to twist everything it can into a weakness. The slightest favouring of one side or another. The connections you make too obvious. The fears that cling to you. The emotion laid bare on your face.

Rip her throat out, she wouldn't even see it coming.

No.

Walk away. Deny her whatever it is she thinks she sees.

No.

She's gotten used to ignoring it. The way the connections form, the way she can imagine each step so quickly. The killer in her that knows how to hurt, how to put a person on their back foot. (Sometimes they make it so easy. Trevor, Julia—one threat, that's all it took, all she needed to know which of them would really take it the hardest if the other died. Trevor was an old hound, experienced. He really should've known better than to show his hand. Maybe then she would've killed him first.)

Daisy shakes the thoughts away.

Fever sees something in what she says and it feels different, somehow, from the way Erin sees something in her. So Daisy looks at Fever, as she looks to the sky, and then she follows her gaze up and breathes.

"...alright. Somewhere else, then."

[abhorrently]

"Pick a place, pick a time. Just...wherever we're less likely to be overheard."

Daisy knows she's a sorceress, that she never goes unarmed, so to speak. There is no danger in a private meeting, even with a self proclaimed Hunter. But she needs the space, needs to know that for one night this town won't throw her out, send her back on the ferry the other direction. It's not easy to reopen this particular wound, to remove a mask she's gotten very, very good at wearing. There can't be an audience, or she'll find an excuse to avoid the subject.

[hadnoright]

Daisy drags her tongue over her teeth. Without a real lay of the land it's hard to know where's truly ideal for a private conversation, but they'll have to make it work.

"Edge of the woodland to the north? Early afternoon?"

Plenty before dark, without having to set out too early. Far enough from town to keep people's noses out, without going far enough they might have to deal with whatever lives out there.

[abhorrently]

"Works for me. I'll be there."

And that's enough for her to stand and head off, needing to take a long walk on her own to mentally wrestle with the questions she's going to be asking herself. Mustering the courage to actually keep this appointment.