station72 | PARTY PARTY PARTY

Entry tags:

PARTY PARTY PARTY

CHARACTERS: Everyone!
WHERE: The streets of Concordia
WHEN: Dusk til just before dawn on DAY 040
SUMMARY: IT'S A PARADE
WARNINGS: Add them to your top levels as necessary etc etc

As from the calendar:

Confetti! It's a parade! The annual Arista Parade, to be precise. Nominally a part of Aristana, the celebration of the ribbons of life, it's a holiday who's origins are nearly forgotten. Nowadays it's a big, raucous celebration pretty dedicated much entirely to drinking and partying. Almost all those in attendance will be wearing ribbons tied around their hair, their wrists, off of their belts and the edges of their sleeves. Pull one off, and you will be rewarded with a kiss - on the cheek, usually. The parade itself showcases a number of performers, costumes, and moving art pieces. It's route covers a number of the main streets of town (which will be closed, sorry traffic), and it lasts from dusk till nearly dawn on DAY :040. Have fun, if it's your kind of scene.

From the mods:

No notable NPCs are present at the parade - at least not in any official capacity. However if anyone wants to interact with a Concordian native, feel free to make up/interact with any randos you feel like!

Feel free to use this log for all of your parade day activities!

*moving art piece not included, original characters do not steal

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ There's a flicker, like she might back down, letting Parker walk around her to get to the kettle. Watching her walk past her, head turned to follow the motions. Watch her steps. Like - she knows what she's doing ( she doesn't ).

Then, there is one, glorious, second where she might just actually shut her mouth. And then: ]

( Why, you don't care what other people are doing? )

[ Parker is reactive. She isn't necessarily violent, but she is not a passive woman. She knows when to be quiet and knows how to wait, but it doesn't mean she doesn't react. To certain things, the better reaction is to not to do anything at all. To others, you need to impose. But violence is not something she generally resorts to.

Generally.

It tips her over. She doesn't even realize how much until the surge of anger explodes in her chest. A drop away of overflowing the very full bottled up things inside her chest. Unfortunately for Angel, she ended up being that drop. It's everything that comes bubbling up to her throat. The notion of defeat and being so completely helpless and with no direction and nothing to hang on to. It happens before she can even put her thoughts together.

Parker gives her a shove, square on the chest. A distraction to throw her off balance. As soon as her hand leaves her chest, the other comes around, closed in a fist, and connects hard and unforgiven with her jaw. It makes her knuckles pulse in pain with the amount of stregth she puts there. There's immediately a twinge of regret for it, but a bigger part, the vengeful, awful, twisted part of her overpowers in her self-righteousness. She doesn't even say anything else. Just stares at her in challenge. ]

[ She has been in pain - many times. Before, when Jack held her down to the control core chair and she fought against his hands. The left over ache of something missing and grating when her skull was cracked apart and enhancements were added. The ports added below rib bones, dotted either side of her spine. The first day - of eridium. The times Jack ripped her apart with electricity in the excuse of discipline. That no matter how long, she knows, there will never, never be a pain like her body being seared open from the inside like eridium had done to her. Since she had come here, more of it besides - there had been her wrapped knuckles training with Lexa, the times she wasn't fast enough with Ren. Blossomings of pain she had been getting used to as part of living. That she accepted gladly - and if she's being fair, she should accept this too. On her removed, better days, she knows that one day she'll feel this.

Maybe it's a good thing that she's drunk, maybe this would be worse if she was sober - but it also means, she has no preparation. No inkling, only the split second of intent that she feels from the symbiote when she's shoved back, stumbles. The lightness to her gone. Because yes, she's been in pain, she's learned to function through the worst of it but that had been different - that had been this side of ephemeral. A crawling feeling. A lifetime of goading Jack worse than this because she knew he wouldn't ever touch her and she still, some part of her, is used to being a thing kept on high. Princess in her tower.

This bursts white hot against her jaw, almost - the second that it hits the world goes starred bright behind her eyes - she doesn't have time to react between is she going to- and the wet smack of fist against skin. Dulled and slogging from the alcohol ( price for even the best of nights, apparently ). Theen visceral, unforgiving, unavoidable contact that shatters across her. Then her head jerks with the motion, body twisting, neck snapping into the momentum, and she forcefully catches herself against the kitchen bench. Gasping and - she can't hear anything, a sudden surge of adrenalin that drowns almost everything else as the second after the shock, the pain sets in.

The world churns, she's - drunk, and her heart is pounding - and her markings flare to life as she leans forward to spit up a mouthful of blood where her teeth cut the inside of her cheek, dribbling messily as she spits it up. Her eyes wet and swimming and - tears, she registers, a natural reaction to pain so she's found. Gripping tightly to the edge, her feet slipping in the effort to keep herself up, she scrunches her eyes up tightly. First time for everything and Vault Hunters took worse hits than this, when they did - they did - they fired back. There'd be bullets, the raw of fighting but - Angel can't manage much else but holding herself up as the pain bloomed heavy in her jaw, her cheek. Gasping raggedly as she swallowed back on her own blood, shaking, bringing a hand to her face, like she still - can't - quite believe it. ]

[ She didn't mean to punch that hard, to be honest, but the anger in her chest pushed further. Jaw set firm, lines under her skin, expression unwavering in the face of tears. This wasn't on her. It hadn't been the first time she had asked to stop. She started by asking, then demanding, and none of her words made a dent. If Angel wanted to push Parker to the brink, she had chosen a prime time to. And succeeded.

She waits for a second, all tense and tight up, guard up, in case she strikes back. But she doesn't, just stands there with tears in her eyes and a jaw that's going to get bruised for only a small amount of time, considering the symbiote and her natural regeneration. The anger doesn't let her feel the least bit sorry for her. She forces herself not to either. This wasn't her fault. This was Angel's and her petulance. And her absolute disrespect. She doesn't want anyone in her head besides herself. Nothing will ever change that. Certainly not a constant forceful interaction.

Parker doesn't quite relax, but she doesn't stare any longer in expectation. No movement from Angel, so she turns to grab a mug. Not touching the kettle yet just in case she gets any stupid ideas, but standing between the other woman and the device. She slides her eyes to her, narrowed, frowning. Heart still beating high on her throat because there is so much anger there. Not even that helped - it only made it worse. She doesn't care, she doesn't care at all. Maybe this will help settle it once and for all.

Parker sets the mug down. A soft noise of cheap porcelain on marble. ]

Don't come around puffing your chest. [ She almost hisses. ] Don't come near me.

[ If she can't step up, then step down. ]

[ Sam hadn't had enough alcohol at the parade to still be feeling its effects, or to be worried about a hangover tomorrow, but he still heads to the kitchen for some water once he's back at the Bearings. And maybe some coffee, if he's gonna take the first shift with Clint tonight.

But he doesn't get very far towards it before he feels that surge of anger, and even though he's been more or less purposefully avoiding the person it's coming from, he still recognizes it. She's a broodmate, and he can't change that. When he steps into the kitchen and sees Angel with a bloody mouth and tears in her eyes, and Parker hissing at her in anger, he tries not to jump to conclusions, but -

Well, he maybe a little bit jumps to conclusions, and he can't help but raise his eyebrows in a sense of what the fuck.

Still, he focuses on Angel, hoping to avoid anything escalating. ]

Hey, Angel, come here, huh? Let me see that.

[ She's still - shocked more than anything, hand at her face, watching the blood drip from her lips onto her fingers. All red and sticking thicker than water as it slips between them. Blinking still in a daze before she registers below the roaring in her eyes. She blinks again and - tries to force words up between the thick coppery bubble that she swallows back on. ]

I'm...

[ Wants to say fine, wants to say she'll be okay. It's nothing, right. Everyone else is used to this. But even as she does, it catches, because she's not, and she sounds pathetic, she can hear it, thready and weak sounding and her body is still too - drunk to be handling this. Even as she pushes herself up, turning away from Parker.

A Vault hunter would kill her, Jack would do worse, but none of them are here now and the pain feels awful and she - still can't quite believe what happened. ]

[ She doesn't need a Vault hunter. She doesn't need Jack. Angel has gathered something equally as monstrous, all to herself, and this one is as quick to anger as Parker was, and just as eager to let it all out.

The flare of pain hits him, knowing immediately who it's coming from. The shock and ire overpower any real concern; he makes his way immediately to find out who caused it, who dared to hurt the person most precious to him in the entire hive. (She belongs to him. Who the fuck touched her, who made her bleed?)

Once he's in the same room as them, he sees the blood on Angel's mouth, the desolated look on her face. He sees Sam, then he sees Parker. And he knows immediately who to target.

He runs toward her, using his full speed to shove her down on the floor, square on her back, teeth bared and eyes black. If Parker fights back, wherever she touches him, she'll get burned; his body is boiling hot, his hand producing a full-fledged flame that threatens to come too close to her face. ]

You fucking bitch!

[ Parker just stares impassively at Angel while she seems absolutely lost that she had to deal with a consequence for her actions. It says something to her. That she thinks she can push and push and she has grown too comfortable with others to even consider the possibility that there is someone in there that does not any of her bullshit. To be fair, Parker has always been very clear about that. What was she expecting? That she would bend over backwards to accommodate her? That she would listen when she doesn't want anything to do with anyone in here? When she constantly isolates herself. Ought to tell everyone something. It constantly falls flat.

When Sam shows up, she does feel it - but it's faded. She has taken her time to learn to push away anything that doesn't belong to her out of her mind and body. Regardless of what the feeling is, that it's part of you, her mind and logic doesn't let it go further. Sam might consider her a broodmate. She would recoil in disgust to just think about the word. She considers him nothing more than another forceful interaction. Most of the time, she wonders if this is what caged animals feel like.

Her eyes don't leave Angel's as she takes her time to move away from her. No change in expression, just a slight tensing of her jaw, lips in a straight line. She blinks slowly, head to toe, and once she's into the safe space of Sam, Parker goes back to ignoring her. Like nothing has happened at all. She's left alone finally, and that's really all she wanted. She keeps her fingers around the handle of the mug as she reaches for the box of teas-- or would if she wasn't suddenly rammed to the floor. The air leaves her lungs on impact. She uses her hands to stop the fall, quick movements that come from years of falling and hurting herself from tall jumps.

He isn't heavy. Even though it burns, Parker twists her body so that she can throws him off of her, wincing through it but not uttering one word. Her skin singes as she touches him, turning red, but she does it anyway: her hand catches the wrist with the fire hand. Heart beat racing from the searing pain, down to her core, and she wants to let go, doesn't want to fucking touch him, but she doesn't have anything holding her back anymore. She doesn't care.

Teeth gritted, breath slightly suffocating-- it burns, but she isn't going to let that deter her, stop her from making a point. Hand burning. Not as much strength in it as she deals with the pain, a slight shake to her arm. ]

Come on. Do it.

[ A challenge, sliding her eyes to Angel. Yeah, she's got her figured out. Pulling strings. What a piece of work. ]

[ He watches both Angel and Parker for a moment, stance purposefully open and non-confrontational, but there's a part of him that's ready, just in case. There's a touch of relief when Angel comes over, and he turns his focus onto her. Sam's already reaching out when he absently notes Petre's presence, and he doesn't stop, fingers curling carefully underneath Angel's jaw and thumb gentle under her chin. The same motion he'd do if he was just assessing it, though of course the moment he touches her, his symbiote ability kicks in. A brief flare of warmth, and then her injury is healed at the same time as it transfers over to Sam.

If he were a different kind of person, he wouldn't work to keep the pain in his jaw and the taste of blood from spreading across the brood link to Parker. But he does, taking extra care to make sure his shields are up and strong. He might not like Parker, but he respects her need to keep herself separate from this forced connection.

Not that it matters much anyway, because there's barely a second after Petre gets there that things escalate right back up into violence. Sam turns from Angel, though he doesn't step in - just eyes them both. ]

Come on, seriously? How is this gonna help?

[ It happens quickly, the blaze burning churn in her mind that Petre always is. Brilliant and searing at her thoughts as he charges in, furious and angry and it hits her low before she grapples for her own walls, trying to throw them up because there's no good anyone else pretending control right now but her. Her with her head churning and - mercifully, less fogged from pain as Sam takes it away from her.

She clutches to him ( maybe, that too, is pointed, Parker's own brood mate - ), still staggering, the alcohol still singing in her bones. The high of her freedom that - yes, yes that too comes with a price. With consequences. She understands that in the leftover taste of blood in her mouth. Thick between her teeth. Her hand grips, steadying herself with a breath and her face: sets, her hands: curled up tightly and her body is flaring bright with white light as the roar of adrenaline pulses thing and bright.

Oh, she's more than aware who Parker is talking to. It isn't Petre or Sam. Her chin lifts up and in utter odds to the rest of her, when she calls her voice is so soft, it has no harsh edges. She calls, and she knows he will answer like it's always been this way. ( it is, she's always listened to, and if there's anything in it, there's a press of importance, she needs him to listen to her, do exactly as she says. ) ]

( Petre, come back to me. It was my mistake... I need you with me. )

[ A breath shaking on the exhale, swaying on her feet, waiting for him to come back to her before she goes to speak and alright - Parker didn't want her talking in her head, fine. ]

Parker. [ it's clipped. ]

Edited 2016-10-06 00:03 (UTC)

[ He's too angry to go to Angel's side just because she calls for him. Caught in a bubble of violence between himself and Parker, Petre shuts out both the voices of his broodmate and the man standing by her side, his fist shaking with the desire to just shove his fingers down Parker's throat, make her feel her mouth and throat burn from the inside.

Come on, she says. Do it. And Angel says it was her mistake. It's all wrong. Snapping his hand away from the girl's grip, he presses his other hand harder down against her chest, before simply snapping his fingers in front of her eyes, causing a glare of fire right against her skin. It doesn't last for more than a fraction of a second, signing her brows and lashes.

And then Petre gets up, shooting a hateful look down at her, before making his way to Angel. Like she said and he delayed. ]

[ To be fair, Sam would find it hard to try to press through the link to Parker. She keeps a distance and it's not just a distance that has started to grow. The barrier she pushes between her and others is getting solid base, a firm foot. Not yet unbreakable, but strong. So she doesn't care if he does or does not try to cancel the link, because she can handle that part on her own. Which is another reason why Angel's clutching to him falls flat. Parker doesn't feel anything for that. Or rather, she does, in the back of her head, but she has learned to disassociate herself from the feelings that don't belong. ]

Shut up. [ She hisses to Sam, doesn't even bother looking at him as her eyes are still on Angel's. The tone she uses is clear: this isn't your business. More aggressively so, because there is a harder connection to block when it comes to Sam. It doesn't make her feel more connected. On the contrary, it makes her reject it even more violently. ] Stay out of it.

[ But it's not over, as Petre pulls his hand away and presses against her chest. Parker is quick to react, always is when it comes to people touching her, like a wild thing that doesn't want any contact. She twists back and away from him, just in time to move her face out of the way. It catches only the left side of her face, the flare of it hissing against skin and hair. She sets her jaw, shoulders straight, as she stares at them, at a distance - as if a rift stands between her and them. Smoke from her hand slowly evaporating. It burns, it really hurts, fingers slightly curled for it and arm half-limp as if that would help, but she doesn't move her ground.

Angel lifts her chin, and Parker narrows her eyes to her. A small victory when she uses her actual mouth. The point apparently has been taken across. Still, she twists the knife in. ]

Coward.

[ Like spitting, like daggers, eyes on Angel. Then she turns her back to pick up the mug from the floor. What. She still wants tea. ]

Edited (balls) 2016-10-09 22:13 (UTC)

[ When Angel clutches at him, staggering from the alcohol still in her system, Sam wraps an arm loosely around her to give her support.

Honestly, Sam's got very little idea of the relationship between the three of them, who started what and what kind of deeper feelings are motivating this undercurrent of violence. It's something, given the way Angel and Parker rarely take their eyes off each other even when they're talking to someone else. For all that he likes Angel, he doesn't exactly know her.

But he knows Parker's disdain for him and this thing between them they both have to work so damn hard to disregard, as though he had any more say in it than she did. And he can't help the surge of irritation when she tells him to stay out of it - like he's inconveniencing her getting caught in the middle of this shit when he just wanted to use the kitchen. ]

Love to, if you weren't doing this in the damn kitchen.

[ He doesn't move to break up the fight when it continues, though - he doubts it would be welcome, and at the moment he's more than happy to keep his involvement in this to calling bullshit when he sees it and encouraging them to knock it the hell off. Maybe he would have if Petre hadn't backed off eventually - but as it is he doesn't offer to heal Parker, either. It wouldn't be welcome.

Instead, he snorts at her parting comment. ]

Yeah, takes a real brave person to goad someone to continue a pointless fight in the middle of where we're all staying.

She's not to blame, I worked her up to start with -

[ Coward. The word stills her. She's a lot of things, she knows, and something twists in her stomach.

Maybe that's why she's sharp, unforgiving about her. Her weeping and her childish fits about how awful this mental connection was. It was all just so unfair. It seethes so ugly inside of her. Fine, she could think that all she liked, and if it had just been Angel that had suffered for it the bearings alone? Maybe she would keep it to herself.

For one second, she doesn't respond, she clutches tightly to Petre when he comes close. To draw him to her where she needs him most, her hand to his wrist, not caring if he burned her, steadying herself between the space of him and Sam where she can pull herself upright. Leaning on them as she pushes forward a step and the words are biting, quick. Ugly things she keeps to herself - but she's promised, promised herself more than anyone, she was done with pretending she was more or less than what she was. ( the words to Ilde, she wasn't a witch, she wasn't an angel, she was just her ). ]

I'm a coward? I'm not the one that jeopardises other people in the middle of missions when they're trying to help them and puts their lives in danger. Oh, you poor thing, you can't handle keeping it to yourself for a minute to help the rest of us who are just trying to survive. Because I will never hurt another member of this hive, which is more than you can say right now.

[ Her fingers curl in sharp and deep on Petre's skin, shaking with it - still bitter, there was a man dead, and it's as much her fault for doing it as it was Parker's for having a fit and catching his attention, to begin with. Or at least as far as Angel was concerned. ]

Do us all a favour, next time you are insisting on playing martyr in this place, and act like the hive is the worst thing that ever happened to you. Don't use the rest of us for your victim complex. Why don't you have some courage the next time you are feeling so put up when we get back to the ship? There's an airlock.

[ Utter, unforgiving. She's a lot of things, but she at least had the guts to follow through on that. ] You can at least save the rest of us cleaning up after you.

Edited 2016-10-11 14:32 (UTC)

[ There's a strange surge of emotion when Angel bursts with anger - surprise, at first, then something else, warm and heavy, deep in his chest. He's never seen her like this before, forgetting for a moment that she's still affected by alcohol. But wrath is wrath no matter what drug you've ingested beforehand, and he thinks she's all the more beautiful for it. He wishes that he could witness this more often, his more significant partner so full of spite. His fingers are itching to reach for her hair, brush it behind her ear so he can use this sin against Parker further still. It'd be so easy. Just a few words, and Angel would have all the courage she needed.

But then there really would be a lot for them to clean up after. ]

... Angel. Let's go.

[ He tugs on her hand, making Parker and Sam absent from his focus. ]

[ Parker doesn't look over from her tea making. Goes back to heat the kettle because it's not prime hot right now. Side of her face burning slightly, but nothing she can't handle, considering she's gone through much worse. But, he is right. Any help would not be welcomed, rejected instead with offense.

She doesn't even look at Sam when he speaks, but clearly addressing him as she reaches for the box of tea again, choosing the one that she has decided she likes best so far. Coffee doesn't taste quite right here, for her, but at least tea has a semblance of it. She supposes pouring hot water on leaves can't change much from planet to planet. Or, well, to a point. ]

I'm still not talking to you. Nobody's asking for your opinion. Then again-- [ Parker looks at Angel accusingly, but doesn't say anything else. She supposes she doesn't need to. She knows what she's talking about, surely-- especially with the way she reacted.

And that's the whole thing. It's not the fact that she isn't pressing on. It isn't about continuing a fight. Both of them don't seem to grasp what she is talking about, but she knows, oh, she knows that Angel does. Maybe that's why the reaction she gets in return is nothing but a tirade of anger. Like putting your finger drenched in salt in an open wound. Pushing buttons is something Parker is very capable of and she isn't above it. Parker has never been able to shake off that vengeful side of her. It's not pretty, but then again, she never claimed to be a good person. But she doesn't look, too busy setting the tea bag in the mug and calmly pouring down the boiling water. Or appears to be. Inside, there's still liquid anger pooling in her blood stream, pulsing in her veins. But she doesn't do anything about it.

Once she's done, she picks up the mug and blows on it, the steam curling in irritation as it's being cooled. She ought to keep score of how many people have told her to get the hell out. Twice in a day. Must be a record (not that there is competition, and maybe that's what makes her even more revolted at the thought of these people's blind trust). As Angel continues, it doesn't look like she's paying any attention. But when she's done and when Petre is goading her to go, Parker sets the mug down, soft porcelain on wood, hands around it still and light. ]

That's original. I'm hurt. [ She says, flat and bored. Telling her to go kill herself. There's nothing that she didn't hear before. Terrorist, radical extremist, rioter. Disruptor of peace. Worthless. Dog. Bitch.

There is a heart that only beats with purpose and she has lost it. Perhaps it is in this she searches for it again, tries so desperately to find it. But she doesn't find herself a victim (and as far as martyrs go, that's a deep, deep down subconscious desire of leaving her mark, because that's the only way she could be important, but why would she care to be one to any of these people? No, not here, never here). ]

Why would I care more about someone here getting hurt over anyone else? [ She says offhandedly, finally turning her eyes to Angel. ] Or do you think being part of this makes you all more important than a guard that's doing his job? [ Sinking a dagger, ripping through arteries, through flesh, through bone.

She picks up the mug and heads over to the sofa where she left the book, tucking it under her arm. A pause, and she looks over to them. ]

Don't worry. The rest of you share the same self-importance. You can hide in that safety. [ For as long as it last. For as long as she can't take it down. For as long as she can't find the truth. Until then, the veil is still deeply over them. ]

Edited 2016-10-12 16:00 (UTC)

[ Honestly, Sam's a little surprised at the anger that rises up in Angel and the words she spits in Parker's face, but he can't say he disagrees with most of it. Parker's attitude towards the hive isn't what pisses him off - hell, he'd probably agree with her more often than not - it's her insistence on acting like she's the only one who's affected by it. He has no patience for someone who treats him like shit because of something he has no more control over than she does.

He keeps his focus on Angel as Parker goes about her routine, projecting look how much I don't care with her movements nearly as obvious as if Sam could actually feel her through their broodlink. For a moment, when Parker leaves to go back to the couch, he starts to think maybe this is over, and they can diffuse the tension - but then she turns back to keep talking. He's done with it before she even finishes. ]

Do us all a favor and shut the hell up.

[ He turns back to Angel as Petre urges her to leave, his arm around her loosening, though he doesn't let go yet. Just in case she's not quite convinced it's time to go, and he murmurs, ] She's not worth it.

[ It's shaking in her, raw and vicious and mouth of something in, that says her teeth will rip flesh and her hands will become claws and that might be Petre, might be the taste of eridium she swallows back on that tells her exactly what Parker would look like when her skin exploded from the inside and all she'd have to do is get close enough to put her hand to Parker's chest and there would be nothing left but -

- but the hole she'd rip in the man beside her. In Pidge, and Gio, and the others she cared about.

Because at the end of the day, Parker's words about the man that - she had no idea about, fall flat. She didn't care that she'd killed him, she never would. Because it was her and Parker or him, and there was never a contest, and she'd killed enough to make the Hive sick, and she'd do it again on a thought. Sneers ugly on the normally pretty line of her mouth where she's learning how sigh just so with it - ]

No, Parker, one of us is a liar, and one of us is a hypocrite that doesn't clean up her own mess once she makes it. [ Bites it, ugly, and then she relents to Petre and Sam's tug.

It's then she goes goes, clutching tightly to Petre's hand, her biting nails and stinging electricity that's sitting under her skin. Words that aren't her own that hum, the vicious challenge she wishes she could step up to like others do. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

PARTY PARTY PARTY

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw gore in introspection

no subject

no subject

cw: ... suicide mention

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject