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ph_logs2024-03-25 02:31 pm
crushed_pearls) wrote in ph_logs2024-03-25 02:31 pm
The Old Fashioned Is Commonly Held To Have Been Invented In 1880
Who: Erin Peters and YOU
What: Settling in, dealing with things, making friends
When: Late March
Where: Oak & Iron, the woods, around
Warnings: Discussion of death & the ethics of suicide, trauma, whatever you bring with you
Gallery Style | Oak & Iron
Oak & Iron undergoes a few renovations, just a couple days' worth, to expand the bar area and add labels in Braille (thanks Gerry). When they're done, Pumpkin Hollow has a new bartender, a winged lass in a blindfold wreathed in the scents of sex and gunpowder. She quickly picks up a reputation for almost prescient service; good suggestions for drinks, never leaving a glass empty long, and a firm hand for when you're cut off. Though every now and again there's an odd dance where someone isn't cut off and instead drinks enough to, not to put too fine a point on it, fucking die - except they don't die, and instead just get normal drunk.
A rather extensive cocktail menu manifests too (thanks Magne, with your working eyes). It's cut up into various flavors, with the ingredients clearly laid out (thanks Max Maximum, with your knowledge of food allergies), but at the tail end of the menu is a change in theme; two sections labeled by nation instead of flavor. The countries in question are Gallery, and Japan.
Gangster Style | The Woods
Here's the needle Erin has to thread: she can't overload herself socially, but she also can't listen to the urge to isolate. So one day she goes out into the woods just at the edge of town and digs a pair of graves in the soft soil, leaving the dirt in a huge pile off to the side. You might find her out here, just laying in one, trying to listen to the sounds of the forest, but if she knows you, well, you might have been invited. "Six feet deep, best rest you'll get."
Tourist Style | Wildcard
Come get your bird lady.
What: Settling in, dealing with things, making friends
When: Late March
Where: Oak & Iron, the woods, around
Warnings: Discussion of death & the ethics of suicide, trauma, whatever you bring with you
Gallery Style | Oak & Iron
Oak & Iron undergoes a few renovations, just a couple days' worth, to expand the bar area and add labels in Braille (thanks Gerry). When they're done, Pumpkin Hollow has a new bartender, a winged lass in a blindfold wreathed in the scents of sex and gunpowder. She quickly picks up a reputation for almost prescient service; good suggestions for drinks, never leaving a glass empty long, and a firm hand for when you're cut off. Though every now and again there's an odd dance where someone isn't cut off and instead drinks enough to, not to put too fine a point on it, fucking die - except they don't die, and instead just get normal drunk.
A rather extensive cocktail menu manifests too (thanks Magne, with your working eyes). It's cut up into various flavors, with the ingredients clearly laid out (thanks Max Maximum, with your knowledge of food allergies), but at the tail end of the menu is a change in theme; two sections labeled by nation instead of flavor. The countries in question are Gallery, and Japan.
Gangster Style | The Woods
Here's the needle Erin has to thread: she can't overload herself socially, but she also can't listen to the urge to isolate. So one day she goes out into the woods just at the edge of town and digs a pair of graves in the soft soil, leaving the dirt in a huge pile off to the side. You might find her out here, just laying in one, trying to listen to the sounds of the forest, but if she knows you, well, you might have been invited. "Six feet deep, best rest you'll get."
Tourist Style | Wildcard
Come get your bird lady.
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"Mmm," her tone is somber now. "Death here is...wrong." On that they agree. Though most don't seem to view it as a bad thing.
Her tone brightens significantly when Erin mentions bugs. "Beetle!" she proclaims proudly, sitting up and stretching her hand as high as she can so it pokes out of the grave. On her palm sits a beautifully dark and iridescent ground beetle.
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"Oh my god that's a good beetle." She folds her arms over on the edge of her grave, smiling despite herself. "Though if you're gonna catch bugs for me you might as well come get into my grave. Dead folks don't get up."
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Elsie nudges the beetle off her palm into the dirt in front of where Erin is so she can use both hands to lift herself out of the grave. She crouches in front of Erin with her head cocked to the side again.
"It's okay to get buried together?"
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Then she hops down into the space Erin's vacated. Her bare toes grip the cold earth like shaking hands with an old friend.
Her hazel eyes turn to Erin, expectant. What next?
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"Raven?" she asks, now that she's in close.
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She nestles in beside Erin, comforted by the closeness and the scent of earth around them.
"I like animals."
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"I grew up here. They're friends."
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Much more on purpose: "...Can I ask what 'witch' means to you?"
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"Witch is... me?" Elsie lays her palm against the wall of this grave, as if she's checking it for a heartbeat. "Outcast. Heretic. ...connected to the forest."
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"Forest is home. Born here. Live here. Wasn't always so dangerous."