OPEN :: A golden bird was singing

[baedalites]

Who: Everyone!
What: St Kelley's evening
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Veerdi evening.
Notes:
(1) The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.
(2) All mementos will appear overnight in some part of your character's apartment.
(3) Dance!

St Kelley's is one of the more sedate occasions in Baedal, at least as holidays go. It passes more or less unnoticed by the majority of the population as many of them feel it doesn't concern them. It's not their holiday; it's for the others. Those with severed ties and broken hearts. The temple and church preach that it's a time for reflection or for glorifying the generosity of the gods. It's one of the few days on which no one looks askance at first generation Citizens mourning their missing loved ones publicly.

As night rolls around and floating lanterns are set to sea, the Apache in Mog Hill prepares to accept guests from the newer cohorts. It's something that happens every year, making it a practical tradition. The alcohol will be cheaper for first timers, and the music will be kept at a reasonable level.

Comments

[rhinemaid]

As much as Ilde likes to socialize, periodically, the way the Apache fills up when they do this is sometimes a little more than she's quite willing to embrace, and it's easier to be outside (where she can still wear her hat); it's cool enough that it's quieter out here, cigarette smoke rising and enough dimmed chatter going on that she doesn't feel isolated by drifting away from the bar proper, the lounge areas.

Her attendance had been spur of the moment, so she texts Ivan (at the Apache; are you coming?) after her cigarette is lit and-- watches, mostly, for the time being, big-eyed and quiet in her slightly unsettling way.

[indiscreet]

Her first thought on seeing Ilde is a sudden realization of how long it has been since they last spoke. And really, that won't do at all -- because these nights she finds that there's a true sense of satisfaction in being around other fae... regardless of how endlessly strange it is to start to identify herself as on some level one of them. Ilde could hardly be less like the Princess, of course, but there's a sort of conspiratorial levity about her that she remembers as being a refreshingly different sort of fae intensity.

She starts a bit at the ember of the cigarette, but it's not so bad. The real problem is that one of the time since they last interacted. Still, her smile is easy because she's good at faking these things.

"Ilde, darling-- I'm glad to find you here."

[rhinemaid]

Having both a good memory and some skill in social situations - imperfect but not absent, shades of the life not lived - she puts her cigarette out behind her as she stands up to greet Anna with cheek kisses and a warmly easy smile that would probably have been a little less of one or the other if she hadn't already eased her way into a drink. (It's nothing personal; a lot's happened, since they last spoke, and it'd be overly generous to say that Ilde is actually coping with any of it.)

"I was thinking," she says, drawing back, "that I hadn't seen you in too long."

[indiscreet]

"How perfect that we should be so like-minded." It's small talk; it doesn't really mean anything, but it's as natural to her as any bit of useful artifice. (And she really does appreciate the cigarette being snuffed out, regardless of whether or not the gesture was intentional.)

"You look just lovely, of course." There's the subtle sense (a kind of flickering awareness) of the less-human appearance beneath the glamour, but she means it honestly -- in part because of that fact. (The things she finds beautiful these nights sometimes surprise her, but as they make life more interesting, she's not inclined to complain.) "You ought to tell me what I've missed."

[rhinemaid]

I died, she thinks but doesn't entertain actually saying; it's the sort of thing that stays on a person's mind for a while, that, but it's not the sort of conversation she's presently interested in having. Her interactions with Anna in the past have always veered sharply and interestingly between an easy-breezy kind of faerie camaraderie and that which is sharper and darker, which suits her by nature and gives her a kind of context to view future conversations filtered through-- playful monsters.

"I got my harp, finally," she says, sitting back down and making room on the bench she's acquired for new company. "Erik paid off the rest of what I owed on it and I have it at home, now, it's-- gorgeous. It's a concert grand, so it's taller than I am."

[deservesadaisy]

Ivan's text back is simple and precise: I'll come if you want me. He'd been out and about himself, but it was a private moment watching the boats. He had a lot of past to consider.

He's not hard to tug away from it, though.

[rhinemaid]

Ilde hadn't lingered long after sending her own out; she's not sure what she's expecting, if she's expecting anything at all, and after a few moments by the waterside she hadn't really wanted to think about it any more. Something will happen-- but it will do so without her constant scrutiny, and even if it's been easier, lately, the distance between herself and her family...it's easier again with a bit of alcohol and some familiar faces.

I'm out in the courtyard.

[charismatic]

Aside from seeing her around the network a few times – which was more surprising than this, because of course she could walk around on land and use phones, and doesn't actually live in the river, so he's got all of that out of his system already – Will hasn't run into Ilde again, brief conversations about showcasing his junk notwithstanding. He's taking a break from all the chatter and crowded warmth inside, and it only takes a moment for him to decide to stop next to her.

“Hi,” he says, offering a smile. “Seems like a lot of folks are down here tonight.”

[rhinemaid]

Ilde doesn't actually think 'oh, the tolerable human' when he joins her, but it's a near thing; it's just the impression she has of him most strongly, and so it goes.

--regardless, she smiles, lazy.

"Embracing Baedal's many and varied traditions," she says, dryly.

[charismatic]

“I guess I'll learn them as I go along,” Will says. He's a little chilly – he's wearing regular clothing today and his jacket is too thin for the weather, but he'll be fine for a while, yet. “Have you been here long?” he adds after a moment. He's curious – about most everyone, really, but he hasn't really asked, so far. Hopefully it's not terribly impolite. “In the city, I mean, if you don't mind the question.”

[rhinemaid]

It gives her a moment's pause, more to speculate on possible reasons why she would, theoretically, object to that than because she does; she's fielded that question relatively often, lately, and the answer she gives him is the one most people have received and will in the future: "Nearly a year, now."

She lets it stand that way, uninterrupted, doesn't mention gap of a few days missing from the city that had been months on the other side, how she was still clutching razor-blades when she arrived back and how sometimes when the water runs down her arms she feels like she's somewhere else, slowing down.

It's easier, for now.

[yeouiju]

Sunny doesn't smoke, but he does prefer to be outdoors; and the lanterns are tempting, so he has come to see them. He sort of circles a low hanging boat one, the red-tinged light spilling on his face as he notes the creases and folds that were created to make it.

In his hand is a glass of beer he's been working on; he didn't buy it, but he was listening to the story of someone else who bought the table a round, so that was fortunate. He's in jeans, a bright jacket, a glimmer of silver stapled through his ear.

When he sees Ilde, the decision to bother her is almost instantaneous - he smiles because he recognises her from the itty bitty CiD screen, and moves on over.

[rhinemaid]

Her first, instinctive reactions are-- curiously contradictory in a way that merits her conscious notice and a very subtle frown, sitting straighter on the bench she's claimed. While the content of their conversation means she probably wouldn't say she enjoyed it, it'd been interesting and she'd been interested in his perspective; she's pleased to see him, pleased to see him friendly, and she can't quite put her finger on why it is she feels like a cat that's been stroked the wrong way. It's almost territorial and she rolls her lip in her teeth, considering him without smiling--

--for just slightly too long, until she realizes how far her mind has wandered and reels it back in.

"Hello," after a moment.

[yeouiju]

If it hadn't been for the 'hello' that follows, it's possible that Sunny would have simply veered away in what would have looked like a desperately weird encounter to anyone else but them-- it is in his nature to cede space for the sake of simple peace and comfort. Though his smile never dims, it does almost harden when he briefly but powerfully shares in her unease.

Silly visceral responses. "Hi," he says, moving to a chair near her bench; he doesn't invite himself to sit, but does plant a hand against the back of it. "It's clever."

He gestures with his beer. This. This place, these people.

[rhinemaid]

"It is, isn't it." She hasn't quite unruffled yet, in part because it's such a curiously unfamiliar response; she feels the need to examine it from all angles she can reach, turning it over and studying it in herself, indulging the unfamiliar wariness and simultaneously making herself relax, enough to almost smile and edge back towards the easier dynamic they'd had on the network.

(The sensible response to being metaphysically outranked is probably not the urge to bite everything so he knows it belongs to her and not to him.)

[fish]

So this little guy over here is giving Ilde kind of a weird look, obviously trying to figure something out, or decide something...or maybe that's just his face, who knows. (No, he's deciding.) Before too long, whether or not she notices—he's kind of hoping she doesn't, actually—he winds his way between a few little islands of bodies to approach her somewhat diffidently.

"Uh, hey... Ilde, right?" Fish has seen her before on the network, of course, but. Well. There was that whole thing with the river and all, and his attitude about clothes and/or the lack thereof isn't typically so blasé as hers, so mostly he's just hoping this won't be weird.

[rhinemaid]

His observation goes mercifully (for Fish, presumably) unnoticed; she's somewhere else in her head, thinking about messages she could've written for her lantern and didn't (Daddy, I'm sorry), and while she meets his gaze reflexively when he approaches her, it visibly takes a few moments to register that she's supposed to react to that.

“Quite right,” she says, and for all that oddness she's disarming when she smiles, the 'ingenue' half of 'psycho ingenue' rearing its pretty head. “I remember you from the river.” ...and the network, yes, but he'd made more of an impression in the water.

(Naked.)

(What.)

[fish]

(nooo...)

"Yeah, that, uh." Evasive manoeuvres! Dive, dive! "Iiii remember you too! But you didn't have legs."

Behold: the conversational prowess of Hamilton Fish. He'll be here all week, folks. But hey, at least he looks to be aware that this train is already threatening to leave the rails—he is just powerless to stop it.

[rhinemaid]

Ilde examines her legs as if reminded of their presence (not difficult; that dress is very short), momentarily captivated by the arabesque lace because she's easily distracted and this is what happens when she approaches clothing like a vice to be indulged. (Otherwise, she thinks, why bother any more?)

A beat later, “They're optional.”

[gramarye]

Wolfgang spends more time outside than in, only venturing indoors to get more alcohol -- he's about two whiskeys in at this point, and he's tall so there's a lot more of him to get drunk, it takes a while. He's got a cigarette perched between his lips and a glass in one hand, which he feels is good enough; a few people have come up and asked him for a light, and that's like socializing, right?

It takes him a while to notice Ilde -- she's quiet, it happens -- but when he does, he smiles and waves. "That's a great hat," he comments. Of course he notices that, hi.

[rhinemaid]

"I love wearing it with these boots," because these are the sort of priorities that are important, on a sentimental holiday like this; she'd rather sit here with her tulip-glass of brandy (drinking it slowly, because her tolerance is significantly less than his) and a cigarette and talk about her hat if she has to talk at all. She'd wanted company without actually having to work for it or supply anything in return, and letting the rest of the gathering wash over her...suits.

She doesn't mind being talked to - she's probably not above ignoring it, if she did - but it's not what she was looking for, exactly. It's just what it is.

"I don't want to go inside again because I'll have to take it off," with a sigh.

[gramarye]

"Well, you're not missing very much, anyway." It's a perfectly nice gathering but this is not a particularly cheerful holiday, and there are quite a few people in there who are getting sadder the drunker they get, so -- yes, he prefers it out here, too. "Do you mind if I --?" He gestures, as in, like. Sit down. He knows Ilde and talking to her is better than trying to force himself to do anything crazy, like, oh... meet new people.

[martyrdomoption]

One of Mitchell's recurring desires since his arrival in Baedal is the need for company. Usually followed by the uncertainty of whether he deserves it or not, and the impulse to go ahead and try anyway. So far it's only lead to disappointment once he's realised how detached he feels to the people, the city, that surrounds him.

That means he's outside by himself for the second time tonight, smoking in solitude and lost in disarrayed thoughts. He's not doing a good job of looking like someone who would welcome idle chit-chat.

[rhinemaid]

“Ivan said you fucked his wife.”

...in fairness, while Ilde is far from antagonistic (she just sounds thoughtful-- curious, if anything, oddly matter of fact), you'd be hard pressed to call that 'idle chit-chat'. It had been a neat bit of emotional blackmail that got that information out of Ivan, too; she still thinks she could've asked him anything and he'd have told her because she was a mess and he wasn't going to deny her anything she wanted from him. She's probably right, since after all, he told her that.

He hadn't planned on it, let's say.

[martyrdomoption]

Of all the things Mitchell had been expecting to hear tonight, that was definitely not one of them. It has the effect of jolting him right out of whatever reverie he was in, to turn and focus squarely on Ilde with the startled look of someone caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh." He manages to stop himself from saying it's just you and focus on the accusation --truth, really-- at hand. "He did, did he."

It's not a question. For a moment he focuses on flicking the ash from his cigarette, before settling on "...yeah."