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

@the shore

[controlledvariable]

It takes her a long time to send the boat out into the water. For at least ten minutes, she stays crouched with the paper boat cupped carefully in her hands as the water laps at her boots. The whole thing is probably just a superstition, and she knows not to get her hopes up and actually expect anything, but there's still a little message written on the boat. I'm safe, I miss you, I love you. Stephanie. She's not sure exactly who she has in mind, but her mom, Cass, Kara and the Babs from her world are people she misses desperately. She hopes they aren't worrying about her, even though she knows they will be.

She doesn't believe in God, not the kind she had back home, and she isn't inclined to believe in the ones here, just because someone told her to. She knows she should investigate properly, but there hasn't been the time. It's an excuse for this now, anyway; she can send the boat out, and if she receives something from home, maybe she'll start putting more faith in the Twelve Point Divinity.

Eventually she stands and walks in a little deeper into the water, not minding that the hems of her jeans are getting wet, it's good enough that her boots are waterproof. "Please." She whispers to the boat, or maybe to the gods, before setting it in the water.

She stays there for longer still, arms wrapped around herself against the chill, watching her boat until she can't pick it out from the others.

[betterthansubpoenas]

Kalinda isn't the kind to put faith in anyone on high. She also isn't the sort to indulge in sentimentality of this sort. But... she is one for traditions. Usually her own, the sort she makes up on the spot because it sounds like fun and probably at someone else's expense. She'll take a chance on this one. It's a good way to meet people, and make new contacts. (Not friends.)

She's got her boat of paper cradled in her hands yet. Her message is simple: I'm sorry. And like Steph, she isn't sure who she actually wants to receive it, but it's genuine enough in sentiment. Her boots are off, because they may be expensive, but they aren't the most practical, and are definitely not meant for total submersion in water.

Some respectable distance from the young blonde, Kalinda crouches down just enough to set her boat into the water and send it floating off without getting the hem of her skirt wet. "It's picturesque, I'll give it that," she comments without taking her eyes off the path of her boat toward the others.

[controlledvariable]

Kalinda doesn't quite startle Steph, but she had definitely been lost in her own thoughts. She knew other people were around, but she didn't expect anyone to talk to her, so it comes as a bit of a surprise and she does a quick check to make sure Kalinda wasn't talking to someone else.

"It almost makes you want to stay," it's said with a small smile and an almost gentle bitterness, if the contradiction is possible; she's just too tired and sad to be properly angry.

[betterthansubpoenas]

"Almost," Kalinda agrees with the same sort of bitter undercurrent. Nothing about this place is ideal, but sometimes it's tolerable and not entirely unpleasant. "I like your boots." Well, she does.

[controlledvariable]

"Thanks, they were a good find," She'd spent her first paycheck on them, after having spent an entire weekend tracking down the perfect pair of purple combat boots and then spending another day making sure they were waterproof. She may have sacrificed some of her batgadgets to do so.

Steph looks back out at the ocean, wondering what exactly is on the other side, "How long have you been here?"

[betterthansubpoenas]

She can appreciate that. Good boots are a treasure, and Kalinda is conscious of hers resting where it's dry, and she starts walking back toward them. Not that they'll walk off on their own or anything if she lets them out of her sight, but they might walk off with someone else.

"Not long. Long enough that I've stopped completely resenting it." Which is not at all the same as being grateful for it. "You?"

[controlledvariable]

Steph wonders if she's supposed to go with Kalinda, but the question is answered when the woman keeps talking to her. It seems kind of silly to have to raise their voices to talk, so she turns her back on the paper boat and walks up the shore a little.

"About a month. I don't know if I'll ever stop completely resenting it." She might like the friends she's made here, but the fact is she's been taken away from her home and she doesn't plan to forget that.

[gwynn]

"Hi. You wanna beer?"

Megan sent her boat out earlier, and in return got a necklace of her mother's, which she recognises as hers and is pointedly not wearing. For one thing, her mother's style has always been vastly different from her own -- which is to say, Megan's mum has taste -- and for another, she never bothered reconciling with her, even four years later. She'll get round to it eventually, Megan figures. Get over it, forgive her, understand why she was the way she was.

Just. Not right now.

So she understands the feeling, sending out that little boat, not sure if it's going to work or what little reminder you'll get in return. After a moment she alights on the ground nearby. She's got two beers held in one hand, whatever the Baedalite equivalent of a PBR is. It's too cold to be wearing a cropped sweater, but she doesn't care, and also her belly button ring is totally cute tonight so everyone else can suck it.

[controlledvariable]

Okay, she didn't expect Megan to be right there and offering beer, but Steph can roll with it, "Sure. Hi, Megan." She smiles, because it's the polite thing to do and because she genuinely does like seeing Megan. Distractions are always good when she's feeling like this, knowing she's powerless to actually do more than send out a little paper boat and pray to gods she doesn't believe in.

The outfit gets a scrutinizing look, "Do you feel the cold?" It's a serious question; considering Megan has wings, Steph doesn't think it's too far fetched that she might be impervious to the cold.

[gwynn]

Megan passes over the second beer and clinks hers against it. "Cheers." She believes in the healing power of booze, see.

"Fuck yeah, I'm freezin' my tits off," she says cheerfully -- so she doesn't mind, exactly, it's not comfortable but she's used to it. Most of her shirts are open-backed for her wings and her back is always cold as a result, and she's kind of inoculated herself to wearing hot pants in January in New York, so.

[controlledvariable]

"Cheers," she takes a sip of the beer, and really, this is a big part of why Steph likes Megan. She reminds her of the friends she used to have in high school, without all the stupid bullshit.

"I'd be a perfect gentleman and offer my coat, but..." she waves a hand at Megan's wings, she imagines trying to stick a coat over those would be uncomfortable. "Maybe this will help." The purple scarf she'd been wearing gets unwrapped from around Steph's neck and she uses her free hand to wind it around Megan's instead. It might not help much, but it's better than nothing.

[gwynn]

Megan laughs a little too loudly, gestures a little too sloppily -- this is probably not her first substance of the night, alcoholic or otherwise. She's like this sometimes, a little blurry around the edges, more often lately than before, but... looking at her, this looks standard for her. It kind of is. "Well, it matches! Thanks." She pauses a bit to arrange it neatly. "I will have the warmest neck of 'em all."

[controlledvariable]

"I planned ahead," she has a secret magic power and it's to predict people's outfits. Mostly she's just glad that Megan is laughing, even if alcohol is helping; she'd been so sad last time Steph saw her.

"You could wrap it around your stomach, but I'm guessing you wanna show off your belly ring?" She says it without any judgement, while Steph tends to dress pretty conservatively, she understands that sometimes you just need to show everyone your belly ring.

[djravenfall]

It's probably the dead cigarette goes flying past Steph's peripheral vision that gives away Kaitlyn's approach, the redhead having decided to take her leave of the bar and gathering proper for a little bit. It had been by luck that she'd spotted her friend down here, and seemed like as good a time as any to "bother" her. She had a boat to drop off anyway, still folded up in her pocket and waiting to be placed out to drift.

"Hey, Steph," is a quiet greeting given as she reaches where she sits, hands buried deep into her pockets. She doesn't have the warmest weather on, but you learn not to care about the cold when you're raised in Ireland and survive apocalyptic snow storms. "Sendin' something out?" is one of those questions that doesn't really need to be asked, but feels right being asked regardless.

[controlledvariable]

She looks up as Kaitly approaches, giving her a smile that's only a little sad around the edges, "Yeah." Steph stands, letting go of her boat and brushing imaginary sand off her jeans -- there's nothing she can do about the soaked hems.

"Hi, Kait," she probably did that the wrong way around, but oh well.

[djravenfall]

Kaitlyn watches the boat for a second, hand in her pocket fiddling at the corner of her folded one. "Seems like a neat thing t' do," she remarks, pulling her own boat out and folding it back into shape. The whole thing is cluttered with words - more than a simple message, in Kaitlyn's case. Lyrics, if anyone took the time to unfold it and read the whole thing. "Bit of comfort, I guess. I dunno. It seems kinda... I dunno." The word defeatist doesn't really roll off the tongue.

So instead, she shrugs, and then beds over and sets her down at the water's edge, waiting for it to go adrift. "So, how've you been? Not too bad, I hope." She looks back at the court yard, grinning. "Not letting the party get you down, I hope," she teases, nudging Steph.

[controlledvariable]

She tugs her coat tighter around herself, not so much against the cold as the general feelings she's trying to ignore. She watches Kaitlyn put her own boat into the water with a small smile, "I can't say I really like what the story tells us, but I couldn't pass up a chance to send something home."

"I've been okay," No she hasn't - tracking down the militia is stressful - but her smile warms up a bit at the nudge, and it's hard to tell she's lying, "What about you? Found a job yet?"

[djravenfall]

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Kaitlyn replies with a laugh. "Like I said, it's a bit of comfort. A nice gesture." A good way to let people know you're alright, assuming this actually works the way the story goes. "I have my doubts on how this actually works, but Lord knows I've seen stranger in my life." There's a subtle motion with her hand out around her, as if she actually needed to tell Steph what she meant.

"N-no. Not yet," Kaitlyn remarks with a bit of embarrassment. "But I'm getting by. People can be surprisingly generous when you play music in the park." Well, that's being generous. Right now she's the very definition of scraping by, but she'll make do. It wouldn't be the first time.

[controlledvariable]

"It's a good way to keep us from kicking up a fuss," Steph is apparently feeling really cynical tonight, but she softens some of the harshness of her words by smiling, "I'm not a hundred percent on how it's supposed to go either."

Her smile turns a litle wry, and there's a hint of worry there, "Gimme your CiD for a sec. I'll put my new address in; I've got a spare bedroom that you can crash in if you ever need it."

She feels a little guilty that she can't offer Kait a permanent place, but Steph can't risk getting anyone else involved. If the militia come crashing through her door, she doesn't want someone else to get caught up in it.

[captaincocksure]

"I think it'll work," Jim offers, by way of greeting (and to announce his presence--you never sneak up on a woman who knows martial arts).

He moves a little closer to where she's standing, apparently not bothered by the fact that he's walking on a damp shore in a nice suit and shoes. "The thing with the cats and the rats did. I have faith."

[controlledvariable]

"I hope so," it's not quite directed at Jim, but she does turn to look at him after a moment. And then promptly frowns and shoos him back, "Watch your clothes."

He may not care about them, but Steph does. She walks away from the water to keep him away from it too, stopping once they're standing on the dry sand.

"What was the cats and rats thing?" Questions are allowed now that the shoes and suit pants aren't in danger.

[captaincocksure]

Jim lets himself be herded away from the water's edge. "Cats and rats--oh, right, you weren't here for that." He frowns a moment, thoughtful, trying to figure out how to explain it. "It had to do with some legend. Sort of like this does, too. The idea with that holiday was that you could leave things out for the cats and the rats, and depending on which side you left a gift for, a fish or something, you either lost something or gained something. I gained something."

[controlledvariable]

"That is a weird holiday," what other reaction was she supposed to have for that? Although she would've been interested in participating, "What did you get? If you don't mind me asking."

If it's anything like this holiday, where people are expecting something personal, she won't hold it against him if he doesn't want to share.

[captaincocksure]

"Tell me about it."

There's just a moment of hesitation before he answers; there's no real reason to hold back beyond his own complicated feelings, roughened up by nightmares.

"I got a medal that was posthumously awarded to my father."

[controlledvariable]

"I'm sorry," about the fact his dad has passed away; she doesn't know if Jim getting the medal is a good thing or a bad thing.

"Did he do the same thing you do?" It's always a bit of a risky topic, talking about dead relatives, but tonight seems the night for it and sometimes people like the opportunity to talk.