[Open Log] How Strange You Are to All

[lasthumanvoice]

Who: Cecil Gershwin Palmer and You
What: General shenanigans
When: Late May into early June
Where: Town Hall, Library
Warning(s): Joking reference to Yorick's habit of dying

1. How strange to grow so old [Town Hall]
Town hall is a bustling space, but some days the propaganda media wing is a pretty chill part of the building. Yorick is often busy with other duties or dead, meaning the office is Cecil's. Were you sent to talk to him? Do you want to advertise your business in the paper or on air? Well, here's the place to be!


2. And to never grow up [Library; new arcane focus]
To Earthlings of a certain time period, the objects laid out before Cecil might seem familiar, as he sits in the library. A board with a grid on it, some squares colored in shades of blue or pink/red (including the center square, pink with a star in the middle of it). A bag that rattles woodenly with small objects inside when shaken. An Emeran dictionary over on the edge of the table. He reaches into the bag, pulling out a handful of tiles; each has a letter on its face, and a smaller number in the lower right-hand corner.

He is not playing the game properly. He is not playing the game at all. Those with a sense for magic may feel a certain pressure in the air, the weight of portent. A growing tension like the feeling of needing your ears to pop.

Perhaps it's worth inquiring what's up here.


3. And to never grow tall [Calzones]
There's a pizza oven on the farm where Arthur, Gwen and Sally live. And the weather's nice enough to do some cooking--so Cecil's been making calzones with both local ingredients and specialties from Paradesium. If you're in Downtown Hollow, you might be approached by an eager, bright-eyed Cecil with a basket full of varied calzones, looking to pawn one off on you. Yes, the flavor combinations might be a little strange, but if you can wrap your brain around 'orange chicken' and 'sweet potato and maple syrup', you might get a free dinner out of it.

And if you're someone who fights, Cecil might task you with picking up ingredients like peppers and fruit from Paradesium, or helping to hunt for meat.


4. And to never grow wise [Wildcard]
[I'm at darkersolstice on Discord if you wanna plot.]

Comments

1

[incomingchoppers]

"Hey Mr. Cecil," says the short, bespectacled stranger who walks into the office like he's done it a hundred times. "I was just getting my paperwork filed to come on board and someone dropped off some ads to run in the Gazette. You wanna look over 'em first before I put 'em with the others?"

[lasthumanvoice]

It's the casualness of it. Cecil tilts his head to one side, blinking owlishly at Radar. He's not certain if it's his slippery mind failing to grasp onto the memory of Radar or if there's something else going on here. He opens his mouth to answer, and what comes out is "bzuh?"

[incomingchoppers]

"...Oh, wow, Miss Fever wasn't kidding about your voice," he says with a tiny laugh. "Wish you coulda done our announcements every morning!"

Even a confused noise from Cecil sounds better than half the stuff they've gotta shout over the 4077's speakers.

"I'm Radar, sir, I'm new." Holding out the small bundle of papers in his hand, "I went ahead and got the ads sorted alphabetically. There's not too many, I don't think."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Radar. Okay, it's nice to meet you. Especially if you're in good with Fever. Nepotism and cronyism is the oil that fuels all town halls!" The confusion leaving his expression is like the clouds parting. He offers a warm grin. "What specifically do you do around here?"

[incomingchoppers]

Radar's eyes widen. "Oh, no, sir, it's nothing like that," he says. "I-I just met Fever at the booth out there and told her what I did back home and she said you guys could use me around here. I got the job fair and square, honest. So now I'm helping all the other clerks do their, uh... clerking."

He scratches the back of his head with the stack of ads, then brightens.

"Hey, that was your muffin recipe at the job fair, right? Boy they were good. I had four of 'em."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Oh, good to know you're a fan. Are there any other sweet potato applications you're particularly a fan of? Just so I know how to bribe a clerk if I need to."

It is nigh on impossible to tell if he's joking or not.

[incomingchoppers]

Radar pauses. He looks over one shoulder, then the other, before lowering his voice.

"My mom makes a really good sweet potato casserole for Thanksgiving that's got marshmallows on top and a little orange juice in it."

2.

[xiaoxiuya]

Ohhh, Shen Qingqiu already knows what's going on here. The particulars may differ, but he knows a divination ritual when he sees one -- and with so much energy building up in the air, he's not at all sure that it's being conducted safely.

He stops a few feet away, opening his fan with a quiet schik. "Is everything all right here, sir?" he asks neutrally.

[lasthumanvoice]

"More than alright, I think." The grin on Cecil's face is slightly manic. "It's working."

See, the crazy thing is that for Cecil, this is the most in-control he's felt when getting a read on the future. Usually, it's all just dumped into his head, the sense of what comes next, without any regard for what else exists in his head. This ritual may be weird and strong, but it's something he's doing deliberately.

[xiaoxiuya]

Be that as it may, he's making a public disturbance and potentially endangering other guests. How can Shen Qingqiu defuse the situation without making more of a scene? Hm...

"Are you experienced in this technique?" he asks as delicately as he can. "I'm a little concerned about power leaking out into the rest of the library."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Leaking?" Cecil blinks owlishly, confused at the use of the term, like he doesn't recognize the pressure in the room.

[xiaoxiuya]

Ah, Shen Qingqiu was afraid of that.

"Either you or the ritual is generating a large amount of magical energy," he explains, trying not to sound like he's judging Cecil for this circumstance. So far it seems like it was simply an accident that needs cleaning up, no need to pick a big fight about it. "If it continues to pool like this, it might attract unwanted supernatural attention or begin having physical effects on the surrounding area."

He bows his head slightly. "I apologize for interrupting your ritual, but cleaning up excess energy happens to be one of my areas of expertise. If you would allow me to tidy things up here, I'd be happy to show you a few ways to keep the energy more contained in the future."

[lasthumanvoice]

"I will gladly listen to whatever you have to teach me. Elias was the one who suggested I start working with an arcane focus, but we haven't fully completed the lessons."

He looks a little sheepish, hand still full of tiles.

1.

[upshore]

A journalist's gonna journal, and Miles knows he's gonna get antsy if he sits idle too long. Once he gets the information about the best way to do that, he swings by Town Hall. Maybe the media is in there due to lack of otherwise available office space. He hopes so. He's not looking to be a government scribe.

"'scuse me," he says, knocking on the doorframe. "Cecil Palmer?"

[lasthumanvoice]

One hand shoots into the air like a schoolchild. "Present!"

And then he catches up and looks a little sheepish. "Erm, I mean. How can I help you?"

[upshore]

Miles grins. Ah, okay, guy doesn't take himself too seriously. They're sure to get along, then.

"I'm Miles Upshur. A little bird told me you're the guy to come see about working in the local media. I'd have brought a portfolio of my work, but I seem to have mislaid my papers," he says, a slightly sardonic twist on the last bit.

[lasthumanvoice]

What Cecil lacks in personal dignity, he makes up for in that voice, perfect for radio--deep and velvety and not not a little hypnotic.

"Can you give me an idea of your experience in the field, even without work samples or references?"

it's always a good day when i get to link his canon reporting

[upshore]

"Sure. Freelance most recently, publishing pieces about corporate ownership of water in the developing world. Prior to that, Seattle Times, did a stint embedded in Afghanistan to report on the war there." He exhales. Murkoff's influence didn't extend here - they'd gotten him fired from the Seattle Times, blacklisted basically everywhere. Hence, freelance. "NYU undergrad, Columbia for my master's. And that's my elevator pitch. Ta-da." He does a brief jazz-hands motion, which incidentally reveals his missing fingers.

[lasthumanvoice]

"You sound like a man who believes in honest reporting, the power of the word to change the world. Was that a simple thing to be, in the world you come from?" Both of Cecil's eyebrows raise, and he truly takes a moment to scrutinize the man before him.

3

[closureisformovies]

Alice cracks into a laugh before Cecil even has chance to actually offer her one of the things. "Cecil my man why are you running around wielding a veritable mountain of calzones?"

[lasthumanvoice]

"Specifically to make you question your sanity. Are you hungry?"

What other answer did she expect out of him?

[closureisformovies]

No that's around about what she expected, really. That or something even more specifically nonsensical.

"Right 'course what else would it be. Though that does assume enough sanity left to even question." She shakes her head. "I am hungry, actually. Super did not pack enough for lunch earlier."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Let's do it this way: are there any calzone fillings that you absolutely and totally veto?"

He's not promising no weird combos. But he will avoid allergens and serious aversions.

[closureisformovies]

"Absolutely none unless you've stuffed one of those bad boys with meat that's more stringy fat than, well, meat." Flavours, she'll try just about anything, but that specific texture can stay miles away. "Besides that, surprise me. Hit me with whatever mad calzone science you've concocted."

[lasthumanvoice]

Cecil doesn't look into the basket, he just picks two calzones at apparent random to give Alice.

(He doesn't even know what's in them.)

One turns out to be chicken with onion jam, golden raisins, cinnamon and slivered almonds. The other is goat meat that is wonderfully spiced and paired with goat cheese. Very, very unkosher. He feels no shame.