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[baedalites]

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Swap meet.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Sukkardi the 14th of Haneden
Notes:

• Swap Meet Spreadsheet: Pre-chosen swaps are green. Assigned are blue. There were a few characters that were selected more than once, so objects were assigned on a first-come first-serve basis. If you have any issues or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact the mod team.
• For objects that might not be immediately apparent as belonging to their owners, there may be a picture or name attached, or players are welcome to have their characters ~just know~ it's for them. Drr drr drr, bb.
• Party post nights are a great time to come join the chatroom.
• The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.

Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap.

Comments

[fuckin_thirsty]

"What's it like in there?"

A familiar voice in response to a familiar silhouette. It's not so dark that it's difficult to see, but Deacon's appearance is made a little clearer as he meanders on closer, a hand tucked into leather jacket pocket, the other at his side and of course, trailing smoke from the cigarette wedged between knuckles. If he's going to go in there, then he's going to have a cigarette first.

He's also fed, which helps, even if his kind aren't actually the kind to go mad and glazed eyes at the presence of humans. More like attending a buffet on a full stomach. There is some shit he left behind, and he's half hopeful.

[norea]

Her smile is faint, but sincere. Hasi glances back over her shoulder at the building, and then returns her attention to Deacon, shrugging one shoulder just slightly. "Not terribly festive. I think most people are just looking for scraps of home, particularly if they can uncover something useful."

Not her, mind you; though there are a few people she misses, she's not terribly destroyed by lack of home, and place is not too important to her. Things are just that: things. Mind you, some of her things cost thousands of shekels and happen to be diamonds, judging by the necklace she's wearing tonight, but its price doesn't heighten her attachment too much.

[fuckin_thirsty]

Most of the things he pictures receiving are somewhat advanced in technology for Baedal, such as electronic archives, but where there's a will, there's a black market specialist who can crack advanced technology for a small fee. Or maybe something precious, like the serums Blade relied on, or whatever the fuck that chemical was that took Deacon's life, or the cure that Karen bluffed about, assuming perhaps it wasn't.

Knowing the gods, though, he'll get another fucking goldfish.

"Sounds better than fucking around and pretending we all wanna socialise," he says, with a breath out of smoke. "What about you?"

[norea]

There's a split second where she considers a more honest answer and discards the possibility. Hasi leans just a touch to the side, eyes playful-bright in a way that's edging on self-deprecating (she tends to mock her own mystique, or else it just becomes obnoxious to even her), tone light. "You know me. I go where the party is."

There's a pause.

"The item I've got to give to its rightful owner is around here somewhere, though--ah, there."

The crow pops up on the ledge of the building across from them, with its red and gold leg band just barely gleaming in the low light. Its arrival is accompanied by the rustle of feathers. She smiles at it, fond already. "He talks, a little. I think I'll be sorry to let him go."

You weirdo, Hasi.

[fuckin_thirsty]

The arrival of the bird has Deacon glancing up and around. Huh. The corner of his mouth turns up at her comment. "So keep him," he proposes, wryly, with zero investment in what Hasibe chooses to do with the raven, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. "I got a book. It's a fascinating read, so far."

And considering he is not carrying a book, he obviously has no intention of handing it back. Tonight, anyway.

[norea]

Of course he isn't giving it back. She shakes her head, smile broadening despite herself; it's not a good idea to test the gods, she's sure, but he's going to do what he wants regardless, and it's not like he needs her advice on the matter. She holds her own cigarette between two fingers, fixing Deacon with a mildly curious look.

"Educational, huh?" Books are a weakness of hers (maybe it's a species thing), so she can't quite resist further inquiries. "What's it on?"

[fuckin_thirsty]

"It's an origin story." Deacon moves around, finding a patch of wall to lean against and putting himself closer to her. "Not mine, probably, but someone's. Tedious, so I'm not finished." Which, you know. Doesn't mean he's going to keep it, necessarily.

He's certainly going to find who it belongs to. "You're looking good, by the way." His tone implies the all things considered as opposed to naked flattery.

[norea]

"Kind of an odd choice for the gods," she comments, though she hardly believes it's some coming-of-age tale that he's got his hands on--if he's not just turning it over with a readiness, it's probably something more interesting. Hasi lets that interest show, rather deliberately, though if it's some absurd spellbook she's pretty sure sooner or later the grapevine will reach her.

The compliment gets a broadening of her smile, her normally-steady gaze dropping for a half-second. "I try. I haven't been out in an age, for obvious reasons...but I might have to drop by yours soon."

It's weird to make Gutters her home-base club (aside from the one she works at), but she doesn't care.

"You didn't get too much damage, did you?" There's nary a trace of guilt in her tone, but mentally, she's pretty aware that any theoretical damage would be her own fault. Hasi wonders how much, if anything, he knows, if Mitchell told him much.

[fuckin_thirsty]

Not Mitchell, maybe, but Ilde gave him enough to go on for there to be knowledge in the way he looks at her when they navigate this topic. "Just a horde of flesh eating demons throwing themselves at the front door," he says, scarred eyebrow raising. "I dunno if they were after us, or our supply," as it were, "but that was about as exciting as it got.

"We're open for business, anyway."