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

[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."

[rhinemaid]

Smoke rises from the end of her cigarette, a haze in front of her, and the way she just doesn't blink much lends the tableau an unsettling cast; it's not intentional, these things just sort of happen. Visually, she's a fascinating person.

“That's why he hit you.” She doesn't actually seem to be going anywhere in particular with this - it's like his presence reminded her of something she hadn't thought about much, and now she's meandering through it, aloud.

[martyrdomoption]

"That's the short of it." He knows he probably deserved more, which is something he'd been expecting, but then maybe Ivan knew that, too. Or didn't care any more (to the extent that he had in the first place).

"Hasi knows." It had happened in her house, after all. But he feels the need to say it anyway.

[rhinemaid]

Her expression shifts, minutely, to something that looks more like boys are dumb. Girls talk, Mitchell. She already knows that.

“We went drinking. Ivan's not going to hit you again.” They're not quite as separate as they seem at first glance, those two statements; Hasi doesn't want Ivan to hit Mitchell, so Ilde took care of it, that's all. The fact that maneuvering barely involved either of the men in question is-- well, telling, probably. “I told her what he told me.”

That it was about Daisy, that is.

She taps ash off into the tray, and adds, “He said he'd do worse if it were me. I thought that was nice.”

(She would.)

[martyrdomoption]

"Good to hear you two are making a go of it." Violence inevitably plays a part in most vampire relationships and he's more than familiar with that sense of territory himself (especially lately). The thing with Daisy was a transgression he never would have committed if he'd been in his usual frame of mind and if Ivan had been alive. Everyone has probably guessed that last part by now.

In the meantime, he quietly files away all the other implications of what Ilde has just said, in order to meander over them another time.

"I can't really see it, to be honest," referring to the of them ending up together in some capacity. "No problems there."

[rhinemaid]

Territorialism makes more sense to Ilde than filthy soft and sharp emotions; it's about boundaries, which means it has rules, and there'd be something comforting about that even if she didn't get a little thrill out of watching Ivan slam someone's head into a wall.

(She does, though. Troubling.)

“I couldn't picture it,” she laughs, quietly, on that last point; it's nothing she's speculated on, he's tangling himself up in Hasi and she's not interested, having her own choice of trainwrecks already. “No.”

[martyrdomoption]

Mitchell turns to catch her eye for a moment, smile caught in a silent laugh, as if this is the most ordinary of in-jokes. But after the appropriate amount of time has passed, he turns his attention back to his habit.

"You both seem, I don't know." He holds off on saying a better choice. He'll leave those kinds of judgments up to Daniil, who can get away with them. "Well suited." And he shrugs; it's the topic they're on and Mitchell isn't good at non sequiturs.

[rhinemaid]

“Ivan and I?” The thought transparently pleases her; her attachment to Ivan should probably be a little worrying, in general, the force of it in such a comparatively brief time and such a generally ill-advised relationship. ...but she's not worried, even if a good half of her acquaintance would like to wrest him away from her with a holy crowbar. “I think so.”

Most of the time, anyway. The rest of the time she worries about whether or not she's doing the right things to make sure he stays (and it's a larger concern, now that certain plans are laid out on the table).