The Old Fashioned Is Commonly Held To Have Been Invented In 1880

[crushed_pearls]

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.

Comments

Wildcard: Temple

[graveling]

Surprise, bitch! There's a large central building that smells like candle wax and anointing oil and wine! It's quite possibly even more visible than most buildings in town for Some Reason.

And inside, there's a dead body sweeping the floor.

[crushed_pearls]

Well. Erin's not gonna put her chips on 'the local church is really into necromancy', so instead she waves. "Blessings on this house," she calls out, tucking her hand back into her pocket, "and good afternoon."

[graveling]

"Come and be welcome. You were at the potluck, weren't you?"

Her entrance was noticed. The carriage was very much noticed. But he didn't approach at the time, because...reasons.

[crushed_pearls]

"Yeah, I was the girl getting a firsthand education about the local cobblestones. Lovely work, extremely soft." Ignore her rubbing her face in memory. "Got directions hereabouts, folks said this was the Temple of Sacred Roots? I'm really hoping I didn't walk into another building by mistake."

[graveling]

"You are where you intended to be. And, perhaps, where you're meant to be. Come closer, I don't bite. And even if I did, my state of being isn't contagious."

Look, he gets to make those jokes. It's what everyone wonders at some point.

[crushed_pearls]

"I dunno, if I could catch manners by getting bitten I might take an interest in that. You're not my first dead guy. You're not even my third dead guy." Still, Erin does as she's bid and comes closer; her head moves like she's looking around, which is when her player must ask Angel's a question: what does the Temple look like to the blindfold?

Is this a place of fate?

[graveling]

The Temple is more Fately than most of the buildings in town, by dint of being legitimately sacred space where goddesses put boons into this world. It's a Plot Relevant Space, but not like The Site Of A Great Destined Battle.

"Were most of your dead guys guys who had died?"

[crushed_pearls]

"...I can see this place..." Erin not-answers, her voice tinged with awe. "I can see it. Holy fucking shit I can see it! I haven't been in a place holy enough to see for - fuck, for -"

If she had eyes, she'd be tearing up.

[graveling]

"I feel like I'm missing some context here. But you are welcome here."

The altars are also visible in particular, though the offerings aren't all in the same way.

[crushed_pearls]

She sucks in a shuddering breath, wiping at her blindfold out of entrenched habit. Steady, steady. "...Sorry. Um. To answer your question the other dead dudes were formerly alive, yeah. Born dead would be a new one on me but I'm willing to believe it."

[graveling]

"Close enough." He nods, leaning his broom on a wall and moving closer to Erin. "I'm called Angel, and I'm in training here to be a priest. So if there's anything I can do to help, lemme know?"

[crushed_pearls]

"Well...let's say I've got limited experience with most religions that I think I might respect," Erin answers, kinda feeling her way through it. "I'd like to hear about the local one."

[graveling]

"Right. This world is cherished by four goddesses, who are treated as mother-figures. Each is responsible for one realm and one season, but that's not all they're about. Right now, we're at the beginning of Spring, Serannai's season. She's the Goddess of the Land, patron of artists and archers and healers."

He gestures helpfully to her altar.

[crushed_pearls]

"...I have...a pre-existing relationship to Spring," Erin murmurs. "Can I take a minute before we continue? I should probably introduce myself, at the very least..."

[graveling]

"Uh. Oh, sure." Angel takes a small step back quietly, to give her space and time.

[crushed_pearls]

"Thanks, Angel. It'll be just a moment..."

There's a certain hesitance in the way Erin approaches the altar, an uncertainty. Her wings flutter, and then fold behind her back, stiff and formal and...

She lays one hand on the altar, and bows her head. Vague memories of Catholic ceremonies and prayers run through her head, artifacts of a human life long since gone, but they taste wrong on the tip of her tongue, and won't leave her mouth. Other memories drift in, a prayer before battle, a blessing on a duel. Those taste better.

Still, her voice is so soft: "Afternoon, Serannai. Sorry to bring my blood-crusted boots and gorestained hands into your house; I kind of take them with me wherever I go. It's been a long, bad life, seeking a Spring that never seems to come closer, but 'm still marching towards it. Stumbling, and blind, and scared, but I'm coming, and Spring...she's been the one friend that never gave up on me. That always believed in me. When I was at my worst, Spring still loved me, and called me her daughter, and I'll never pay that back if I live for ten thousand years. I won't ask your blessing; I have no right. But I will ask that...I -" A shuddering breath. "...Spring is my friend. Don't judge her harshly for it?"

[psalmofseasons]

No sooner than the words leave Erin's lips, there is a solid thwunk in the wall above Serannai's altar.

There is an arrow in the wall. There are bells, tiny bones, and a bit of parchment tied to the shaft, just above the fletching. The handwriting on the paper glows with an energy of divinity and life that, if Erin's blindfold doesn't allow her to detect it, she'll be able to feel it under her fingertips. The text is simple enough to make out through feel.

XOXO

Then, with a woody creak, the arrow explodes into a burst of petals, and a mischievous laugh can be heard echoing from the entrance to the temple, along with departing hoofbeats.

[graveling]

"...subtle, Serannai. Subtle." Angel shakes his head, amused by the response. "And I'm going to end up fixing the wall after that stunt."

[crushed_pearls]

"...Did your god just hit on me or...?"

What Erin is trying to sound like: casual.

What she's actually sounding like: Deeply Shocked.

[graveling]

"Well, that definitely wasn't a sign of disapproval, was it?" Angel shakes his head, stepping up to the altar. "You were brought here on purpose. The Mothers want you here. If you feel like you're not good enough--well, that's something to work on, but they don't agree with you."

Mortanne's talk about his attitude, repackaged and paid forward.

[crushed_pearls]

"Being 'good enough' isn't a frame I like much," Erin answers, turning to face Angel. "I have up on that when I decided I want to live. But things didn't exactly go to plan either, and I've got one of those fun pasts reasonable people can hold against me."

[graveling]

"The same way you hold Erik's against him?"

His tone is flat, so very neutral and calm. Face, blank.

[crushed_pearls]

"...No, that one's personal. Just like it would be if one of my victims came here." Erin's not backing down, but she's not raising her voice either. "Erik hurt someone close to me, and while I've made peace I don't trust him or like him. He needs watching."

[graveling]

"He needs the same opportunity to start fresh that everyone here gets. I'm not asking you to like him, but you are not his personal judge. He exists within the community here."

[crushed_pearls]

"I made peace," Erin repeats. "If he wants his Spring I'm not gonna stop him, but I can, and will, be the sword hanging over his head. Who is he to you anyway?"