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

[yournewsidekick]

Underneath the table, Nimona goes still.

A beat passes. The snout reappears at the bottom of the tablecloth, followed by the rest of Nimona's currently-canine face. "Bastion?" she breathes, eyes widening.

And she leaps. Mid-jump, the dog's shape stretches, turning into a ribbon of pink light that winds around Bastion's head. It collapses down into a pink bird flying the same loop as she cries, "Bastion! You're okay! You're okay, right? You didn't -- ?"

You didn't die? she almost asks, but that's dumb. They're all dead, or close to it; they wouldn't be here otherwise. But the last time she saw them, they were battered in a way no omnic should've been, and then there were those awful crashing noises above the cells, and then --

[configuration_birdwatcher]

They spin their head 360 degrees following her flight, even though it confuses their gyroscopes to rotate at that speed. Sometimes the way Nimona moves in bird form is exactly like Ganymede, when he was in an energetic mood. She's loud and larcenous in a way he never was, a personality more seagull than songbird, but there's a resemblance that's always bittersweet to witness.

// I'm uncertain when or how. My memories are disorganised. Scattered all over their internal storage in a way that definitely suggests an emergency shutdown, a near-death if not a full death, supporting the white-haired human's explanation. The memory with the most recent timestamp is picking themself up out of a crater in the ship deck, so they're not sure if they were knocked offline by an unexpected attack or just need to piece together what happened afterwards.

// I remember being damaged, but not dying. I'm fully operational now.

They look superficially different than the last time Nimona saw them, purple optics instead of blue and armour that resembles old stone grave markers, but the crumpled metal has all been smoothed out and they're moving as fluidly as ever.

[yournewsidekick]

"Good."

She flutters down to land on their shoulder, hopping along its ridge as if to confirm they're all in one piece. "Yeah, it's all fuzzy for me, too. Last thing I remember was..."

She trails off, then gives a small, awkward, avian shrug.

"I dunno if I died in there, or if that lady just showed up super-late to me exploding back home, or what." Smaller: "I'm glad you're okay."

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// Why did you explode? they ask in a tone of concerned bafflement, turning their head to stare at her with that newly purple optic. Deputy Pratt had died before he appeared on the Serena Eterna, so it's not impossible that Nimona could have also been brought to the ship after her death and restored to life by the Erda Flow. Still. // That sounds painful.

// I'm glad you're here, they respond. Remembering the last conversation they had with Nimona before they left to look for a way to rescue the remaining prisoners, they continue, // I'll tell you if I remember killing Malin. I see several people I recognise from the ship, which suggests the dimension was destroyed. Maybe her death caused it, like the Village.

[yournewsidekick]

"Oh, yeah, it was a whole thing," she says, sounding way less concerned than Bastion. "Long story. Somebody was gonna blow up half the Kingdom and I wanted to stop 'em. It didn't hurt, though, it was over pretty quick. And I'm tough to kill for good."

Nimona fluffs out her feathers, settling more comfortably onto her perch. Her voice turns venomous at the mention of Malin, incongruous with the cute, delicate little shape she wears. "It better have. Hope you blew her whole head off and Siffleur ate her guts. Hey, maybe that's how you -- "

She tips her head just enough to rap her beak against his optic, gently.

"You look different. What's up with that?"