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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's not that Lexa's people are without celebrations. It's more that their celebrations come with a sense of solemnity. Even on Ascension Day, they gather with a sense of seriousness carrying in every step to celebrate the Flame and the progression of their people. They manage to survive so long that it's worth celebrating. Still: their songs are slower, more serious, their dispositions are darker, and they're unaccustomed to such things.

That doesn't mean they don't know about the lighter, more jovial versions. Within the villages, people are more likely to take to happier times. Lexa recalls some of them from youth. And she's read about some of them in books. Still, when this parade is announced and it seems that the other Hosts are interested in going, she has to take the time to research what is appropriate.

When she shows up, it does seem like she's worked it out: her hair is done up with black and silver ribbons, and the rest of the ribbons are worn as obvious accessories. She wears a long, slender and dark green dress, as well as a great deal of eye makeup, thick mascara, eyeshadow that extends beyond her eyes. It is the mesh of this world's culture and her own that is apparent, but she wears it proudly. In getting her braids done with ribbons, she did have to seek someone who would assist her in that and paid for it, but she has chosen not to turn her back on this luxury. (A shallower, simpler part of her wishes she could have always had this choice; it's not something she's bound to admit to other people, but it's obvious in how she carries herself.)

As the night goes on, the following will be happening:

a) she will be drinking, though careful to take what she imbibes. She is grateful that the symbiote curbs some of the heavier effects of alcohol, but she might be a little less inhibited as time goes on.

b) Her watching performers with keen interest.

c) There will be times in which she may be looking for suspicious people of interest, as it's not like her to let her guard down entirely. While her mind won't be thinking this way, any of the other Hosts will likely get the sense that she isn't relaxing as much as she probably should be.

d) There will be few who are able to take her ribbons, and any attempts will be met with her grabbing that person's wrist roughly and turning it back on them. She won't break any bones, but there will likely be some bruising left behind. Anyone might see her do this—or if it's a member of the Nest who thinks she's relaxing, they might be on the receiving end of it. Sorry, buds, she's not here to give out unwanted kisses.

or e) Wildcard options! Want to encourage Lexa to drink, dance, or live a little? Want to see Lexa when she's actually drunk? She's in her early twenties, but she probably hasn't had actual fun that didn't involve punching someone for a ... long time.]

[ Parades mean crowds, jostling and getting jostled for the best view. Every sidewalk and bar window on the route's got their empty spaces filled with bodies and the inescapable din of conversation shouted over conversation, shouted over music. It's loud, booming and almost incomprehensible at times, but Steve doesn't mind the noise so much. He's got a sketchbook tucked under one arm and his eye on the buildings.

It's the two beers (the approximation of beer) that he drank with his burger (the approximation of a burger) that gets him bold enough to shout up to the folks on their second floor balconies. He strikes out three times before a woman with neon blue hair ignores the protests of her balcony-mates and buzzes him up to their small house party. Squeezed into a corner, side pressed up against the metal bars, he gets to sketching the performers dancing on the street below, eyes open for the usual suspects and joining in the conversation around him when he's got something he can add, or when his hosts get philosophical with their growing inebriation. The woman with the bright blue hair takes to watching him draw, striking up a conversation and debate about the artistic integrity of the passing floats, about the merits of Aristana as performance art.

She ties a dark purple ribbon to his ribbonless wrist, and promptly slips it off again.

For most of the night, Steve can be located at the balcony, sketching and chatting away. Call up from the street and get an invite to the apartment.

Or he can be found moving through the street with purpose, stopping at the only convenience store still open on the block, picking up beer for his new acquaintances.

After dusk, when the crowds have cleared out, he takes the scenic route back to the Bearings. Anyone still hungry will smell those weird pancakes he's always cooking, and find Steve over a pan with a spatula in hand, busy. ]

[ She's unsure, when she first sees the sheer mass of people at the event. A teeming throng of music - movement - is too much - and it means she hangs back until eventually, curiosity gets the better of her when she sees people drinking something en masse from a nondescript cup. Curious, she goes to try it and - well it tastes good. Fizzing against her tongue - and she finishes it easily, especially as each mouthful makes her feel lighter and lighter.

It's a good reprieve from everything serious they're doing, she decides, and - well, she takes just about any excuse when she can to throw herself into doing things she doesn't get to often. Besides - she finds, normally, that too often people can be too much but - after one cup of something that tastes sweet and - fruit, she knows now from Ilde's memories ( tingling, on her lips ) and it feels half as good as that as she has another that - she doesn't mind the people half as much as she usually does. Not the choking in the crowd, a -- connectedness that's not just her powers or the hive. She's humming, buzzing high in herself. It's the constant brush and push of people, where she's touched and is touched. Being amongst the moments she had only watched that she grips tightly with both her hands when someone asks her to dance and goes. Finds new textures, smells. The sweat of people, the mix of cocktail, that under smell of something fetid and dirty, damp with water. Feels it prickle on herself. There's just so much and she hits - over stimulation and stays at that peak. Refusing to reject it for once.

Drawn into an ebb and flow where the crowds are like tidal flows around events and - dancing is fun, evn if she's not good at it, she finds, and she gets enthralled in the shows as much as other people. A drink in hand as she settles in to watch a street performer breathe fire and she wants to - snatch it from him, swallow the flames into herself - but she settles for when he finishes to steal a ribbon from him and kiss him instead. Laughing into his cheek as he thanks her and makes his way away from her and - she forgets him except for the smoke smell on her fingers.

It goes, pulls and tugs and she likes it, she finds, and yes, the drinking makes it easier. The drinking makes it blur just the way she likes, even if she's not quite aware that is what it's doing. Marking the encounters with others as she steals ribbons, gets one only to lose another, temporal, incorporeal and she feels like for the first time ( and another two drinks in ) like she's floating again. So, so hard being grounded, she isn't sure she likes it some days. Her skin is heavy, her bones ache inside of herself, but right now, she's arched up on the balls of her feet, another drink hastily downed, as someone tugs a ribbon ( a red one, at her wrist, replacing a blue one that was tied to the strap of her dress ) to lead her into dancing, she thinks - that feels good to. Hand on her hip and she's laughing into whom so ever it is shoulder, gripping tightly to clothes and feels the same done to her. A kiss to her cheek, and then another and she pushes at them teasingly.

She picks up ribbons, as she goes, pulling through the crowds, sometimes to steal a kiss, sometimes it's cheekily done, she tugs one free from the wrist of someone that catches her eye and draws them in by it - other times, when someone snatches off her she makes like she sees some others do, and darts back a second as if to make them give chase.

Can be found at any point, in crowds, in the dancing, sometimes just sitting with a cup in hand with some - new found friends of hers. As likely to be perched in someone's lap as just standing and chatting with whoever she's found. ]

[ Eventually, expectedly, sometimes when she seeks and finds hive - ( and like this, she rolls towards them without being aware of it, because without any walls up she just draws close like it's natural, given into it, accepting them into herself ) - she has her skirts in hand, tightly snatched up to keep out of her way she doesn't trip over - she'll search for hand or ribbon to lead them by - ]

Hey, come here, you should see what I found -

[ It's light and no edges, no harshness, only light and her laughter that churns up.

And yes, she's definitely, definitely her fourth or fifth drink in by this point. ]

[ She catches sight of him as she's being pulled along by someone - who she doesn't know but she doesn't think he knows any of the people he's with either and that's what makes this so much fun. Whoever it is has her around the waist that she tugs free from as she darts to the base of the balcony out from their hold to call up to him. ]

Steve! Steve!

[ It's laughing, and - hey why is he up there anyway, that looks interesting. ]

[When Angel's hand goes for the ribbon (an action she takes no additional meaning from, despite their awkward encounter at a time that oddly seems so long ago), she merely angles her body ever so slightly so that her fingers catch her arm so she can begin to pull her in the direction of what she wants her to see.

Lexa's no stranger to alcohol, but she's drank it rarely throughout her life. Once with Costia, the burn of it heavy on their tongues, and they kissed as the sun stopped filtering in through the lower floors of Polis. They kissed and drank and kissed, and when the bottle was empty, they found themselves rather sick. Titus had been quick to remind her to be careful of how she presents herself. (And to remind her that after ninety seven years, they are beginning to run short on alcohol they can find on their scavenging trips.) She's rarely drank to such excess otherwise. She's shared cups with the leaders of clans to show that she was on the same level as them, and she's drank at ceremonies. But alcohol limits control, limits wisdom, limits everything—even though Titus' lessons now feel like a double-edged sword, she can't easily forget them. Tonight, she's drinking because it's the thing to do, but while her cheeks burn with the alcohol and there's a faint fogginess in her mind, it's nothing like how Angel currently feels.

Unlike Angel, she came prepared for the evening. Her painted face, bare arms, ribbons, and everything else show that: but then, when does Lexa follow whims? She does nothing without reason or purpose. (Another lesson. Would the alcohol make that fade away, or more prominent? It's hard to say.)]

Where are we going? [Concern laces through her words as she considers Angel's features and her previous isolation. Is she like this because she's aware that she is, or is there something more at play? She recalls Angel's reaction to her showing up at her room, and her own (perhaps forceful) ignorance about what that might mean. The dots connect, but she doesn't act on them, not yet.]

[ It's a small handful of people crowded on the balcony, men and women both. Some are smoking, others drinking, some standing and some with their legs dangling from between the metal bars. ]

Angel? [ He leans over the railing to peer down at her. His mind blooms with surprise, mental walls perforated by the beers passed around the balcony. Without pause he turns over his shoulder to call out a question to someone inside the apartment. A blue haired woman in her early thirties appears a few seconds later, eyeing Angel for a moment before saying something back to Steve with a upward quirk to her lips.

He's quick to lean over the railing again, calling out in two voices: ]

You wanna come up? I'll meet you downstairs!

( You wanna come up? I'll meet you downstairs! )

Yeah!

[ She rocks eagerly on her feet, the echoing agreement in her mind. Dropping her hand from where she was waving.

Though whilst she waits she turns back to her new found friends are turned back to - someone else with purple hair, incidentally, and she gives him a messy kiss on the cheek and gets one back that sends her into fits of giggles again before she waves him off with another ribbon in hand that she's tying to the strap of her dress. ]

[ Angel had only prepared so far as she had worn something nice and pretty that makes it easy to move in - everything else had just swept her up. Ribbons and laughter and the tingling feeling of strangers lips on her cheek, her neck, below her ear. Greedy, hungry, little, starved thing she is - she rejects none of it when its given. Only turns into it and bursts so full with laughter. Because it's the first time since she came that she does feel - sated. Her limbs all filled with themselves and the rawness of others so close by.

Her head turns back, hair a mess over her face where it's whipped with the movement. ] Almost there, promise.

[ Her fingers curl up in the ribbon absently as she weaves through the crowd easily - fumbled little excuse me to duck through. ]

[ With an answer given, Steve gives a lopsided grin and disappears into the apartment, leaving behind a bubbling between their connection. Less than a minute later a narrow door stuck in between closed storefronts swings wide open.

Steve's not quite dressed for the parade: he's ditched the heavy coat he came here in, but his bare arms and belt are missing the ribbons that everyone else is sporting. His face is a little flushed from the run down the stairs, or the drinks, and he starts waving for Angel with a lopsided smile, the echoing in his mind persistent. ]

C'mon in!

[ The interior is only a little less narrow than the doorway itself and so he presses his body close to the door to let her through. A yellow light hanging from the ceiling illuminates a steep set of stairs just behind him. The smell of whatever they're smoking upstairs wafts through the air, tasting earthy and green. ]

[ She slips past him in a comfortable twist of her body past him. ]

Having fun?

[ Because soon as she's past him, she snatches his hand like she always does, eager little thing. tugging him even if she doesn't have the remotest about where she's actually going, but figures that it's upstairs. ]

[Indulgence was not the Jedi way.

Ahsoka's presence at the parade was strictly investigative. After all the talk of infiltration and other things, she finds a need to keep busy in some way that doesn't interfere with others. In that, she had come prepared -- a more appropriate dress that allows her to look more like a costume piece, rather than her drab Jedi leathers. It keeps to her more eccentric look as an alien without compromising them as a unit. It allows for the ribbons (blue, green, white, and gold) to drape off her belt (purposefully tied and arranged so they are difficult to pull off) and remain tied around her montrals. Enough to blend without looking too inviting.

At first, everything is fine. Then the drink begins to flow, and she can feel an unfamiliar haze somewhere in the base of her skull. At first, its enough to startle her into hyper-alertness, even in such a small dose, even with the worst of it pickling another brood. It makes her stomach churn uncomfortably, and she tries to shake it loose -- which only makes the vague lightheaded feeling worse. Rather than let go and let it pass, she stubbornly clings to herself, and finds herself standing stock still in the middle of the crowd while trying to figure out what she is experiencing.

Angel's voice cuts through it, and she's almost relieved -- except for the fact that she knows better than to let anyone see her at anything other than her best, especially after recent displays. Rather than let herself be grabbed and lead, she holds her ground, turning her arm inward enough to clasp the other woman's limb in exchange.]

Wait.

[She realizes when she sees the other woman what she must be feeling, and instead shakes her head in another stubborn and failed attempt to clear it.]

You've--been drinking.

[Someone's been drinking.]

[ She's guilty as charged, really, - doing effort enough for the both of them properly. Rich in her mouth, she's had one mouthful after another of different things - the last one was dry, sharp, it burned on the way down and makes her throat feel rough as it shuddered through her. It turns her movements light - a little bit later, perhaps she'll be fumbling to put things in the right order. But right now, her fingers brush against the ribbons that adorn Ahsoka, brightly colour and so neatly arranged. Far neater than the way they're dressed around Angel's clothes.

Not that she sees why she shouldn't be, oh fiddling with them, smiling widely - the drink definitely makes it easier. ] Yeah, yeah I have.

[ There's a strain, like a fitful animal tracking a scent. ] Come on, there's stuff all sorts of stuff to do here.

[ His hand is warm clasping around hers. ]

Yeah. [ Preceded by a light snort, like he's surprised at himself. Concordia hasn't been all misery, but it's been trying, a weight on his shoulders that's present even now, though lesser than he's gotten himself accustomed to. He came to the parade with the intention of scouting familiar faces and with a worry that the quiet of the past week or so's only been a temporary lull. The shift isn't easy to identify, somewhere between this block and the last one, when he decided to invite himself to someone else's party.

He slips in front of Angel, helps that they both don't take up too much space, and leads her up the stairs. ] What about - ( you? ) - watch your step - [ It's a steep climb, he doesn't try to rush the same way he leaped down to the first floor. At the top and to the side is a door, propped open a crack. The sounds of the parade vibrate through the building, getting louder as they reach their destination. Someone coming from the floor above them hops down the steps, a young woman sporting a bright red bob and a half dozen ribbons. She smiles at Angel as she shimmies past them. ]

Edited (used the same icon) 2016-10-03 05:07 (UTC)

[ She keeps behind him easily, and at his prompting, she gathers up the length of her skirts and gets it out of her way before she trips up herself. Because she - gets it - she thinks. They've been through a lot so far - all of them. That there's something to break it apart like this that feels normal, natural. Needed, perhaps. Maybe for Concordia. The scariness and violence of it all. ]

I saw fire dancers, I kissed one of them - [ Which is answer enough as her attention is caught as quickly. Angel is distracted almost as quickly by the woman that moves past them, smiling at her in return before she turns back to Steve. Another thought snapping up: ] Where are your ribbons?

[She tastes that burn on the back of Angel's throat when she reaches for the ribbons, and she tries to swallow it back down while she tries to gently push Angel's hands off the ribbons after a moment of allowing her to fiddle. Now more than ever, she's sure she must stay focused -- for Angel's sake as much as her's.

The easiest way is to play along.]

Alright, alright -- easy. There's a lot of. Noise. Show me.

[A lot of people, a lot of the Nest, she can't tell what is the Force and what she is imagining. She lets herself be lead.]

[ Anything that's not serious mission stuff is a welcome diversion, as far as Sam's concerned. And it reminds him of New Year's, kind of, which is enough of a hint of familiarity that he doesn't hesitate in heading out to watch the parade. He didn't actually wear any ribbons, but anyone who runs into him later rather than sooner might find he's acquired a couple, tied to his wrists by a friendly (maybe too friendly) Concordian girl around his own age who certainly didn't ask for permission first.

Mostly, he sticks to watching the parade and sampling the street food, but when the drinks start flowing nobody seems too interested in carding those in attendance, and a couple of times he accidentally winds up with a cup of something that he winds up spitting right back into the cup with a frown. There's got to be something to drink here that isn't booze, surely?

He's out until things wind down, even if by then he's swaying on his feet and clearly more than ready to crash. There's no curfew here so he's gonna do what he wants you're not his real mom. ]

[ The two Sams are pretty much on an equal wavelength there. He and Clint had just been talking - or, well, feeling at each other about the need for something to break up the tension, a way to let off steam.

And the parade seems like as good of a diversion as any. So Sam's been out there all night, and for once for himself, not to keep an eye on anyone else. He has his own fun throughout the night, and ends up with ribbons wrapped around his wrists and biceps, laced through his belt and hanging off the sleeves of his tanktop.

But don't think he doesn't catch those 'gonna crash' feelings ebbing through their broodlink, and when he goes looking for Sam, he spots him apparently getting ready to fall asleep standing up.

Still, he doesn't immediately go for trying to convince Sam to turn in. Instead he heads over to stand beside him, holding out a cup and giving its contents a shake. ]

It's some kind of juice, couldn't tell you what fruit but it actually tastes decent.

[ She turns her hand up into Ahsoka's as she pushes her hands away from the ribbons. A thought to tug one but - no, not Ahsoka, she knows. ]

I know. Isn't it fun?

[ She's buzzes, a soft tug - once more in the fray, once more. Her fingers threading through Ahsoka's and her stepping into the hum of people. They flow around and about and she tugs her after her into it. ]

[She feels Angel's idle thought about the ribbon, and an unconscious flush comes to her cheeks (warm against Angel's as she presses closer), a combination of both embarrassment and someone else's alcohol. She's had one or two pulled off by determined strangers, but pulling off an act with them was different. She could make them forget, move on and never see them again. Her Nestmates were a different story.

The chuckle that bubbles out of her is both nervous and modest, reaching up with the intent of ruffling Angel's hair. But she grabs her hand again, laces their fingers, and carries them into the crowd.

The press of people is almost familiar, triggers her instinctual need to assimilate. At the same time, the Nest continues to buzz with them, and Ahsoka moves closer as the press of people gets thicker. Once or twice, she can feel someone come up alongside then to tug at a ribbon, or to bestow another, and everyone's delight quickly becomes infectious.

Her suspicious blinking becomes a smile that threatens to turn to laughter.]

How long have you been down here?

Edited 2016-10-03 12:35 (UTC)

[ It's a strange feeling of being within, without, they are connected, and they are a part of this teeming mess - exactly the same as everyone else in it, without being that at all. But for all she exists so often in a place that isn't here, it's good to feel that connection manifested - in the brush of fingers at her wrist, her neck, normally - it's too much - normally she startles like a rakk hive, all taken to flight. But like this she stretches into it, timing her movements to the flow of the crowds she tugs Ahsoka into an alcove of a shop awning as she waits for a group to pass by - looking for the pause of traffic so to speak.

A halt to reply to her as something takes her eye, taste testing of some kind of drink. No doubt, alcoholic as well. Swiftly takes up a plastic cup that's being passed around of something else to try - and mercifully it's just a test of something. Not a lot of whatever it is, but it's bright grin in the white cup, sparkling like stars as she passes the second one she'd grabbed to give to Ahsoka.

Because the thought that crosses her mind: if Ahsoka doesn't want it, she'll drink them both anyway. Waste not, want not. ]

A couple of hours, I think? Not sure. Wasn't really paying attention. [ A guilt little laugh - like she knows she should but... ] How long for you?

[Its almost pleasant, to see Angel finally able to enjoy herself so freely. Ahsoka can still remember the frightened little bird she picked up off the floor when they had all woken up, carrying her slight and nervous frame until she trusted herself enough to try walking on her own.

The awning is a welcome respite, and she is able to relax a bit herself, enough to take in the true scope of the crowd and allow herself to be aligned with the strange and unaccustomed buzz. The distraction comes in the form of Angel's offer, which she takes with a polite smile and pulls it to her lips.

Its only a taste, and she quickly decides that she will not be accepting further cups from her as they go -- not because of the burn that floods her throat, or the slight sensitivity to light she suddenly feels, or the warm that rises to her skin -- but because it feels too indulgent, and thus not meant for someone like her.]

Not long. Know how hard it is to tie these things by yourself?

[Its a joke, for the most part, but a proud grin graces her features as she gestures up to the display around her montrals.]

[ It's only really then, that she considers just what Ahsoka's wearing. In the middle of it all - it had seemed, like - well, just more colours. But she looks at her now, remembers the way Ahsoka's teeth curled and feels the prickle in her mind again. ]

It was worth it - those colours really suit you. [ Her drink lifted again, another sip and her green drink will be gone soon. It shows off though, the ribbons she's collected. Not neatly arranged as Ahsoka's, or as colour coordinated. They're the effort of her milling through people. ] But they are meant to be tugged off easily, remember?

[ She ducks her head with laughter, pink in her cheeks. ]

[So she's been caught -- unsurprising, really. Enough of the crowd and offered her pouting lips when they realized all of her ribbons were so hard to reach or tug away. Ahsoka offers her a conspiratorial smirk and wink. There are a few that will come loose around her waist, but getting at them is a different story.]

I remember.

[Her back finds the shop front, and she sets her empty cup to the side on the windowsill. She's beginning to appreciate the light buzz a little more now. It keeps her mind off of more unpleasant things that had dominated her mind as of late.]

I don't always follow the rules.

[ It's easy to contemplate how to tug them free. Yank at them happily and see which one came undone first. But as Ahsoka's words draw her eyes up again she shakes her head, smiling at her. ]

Me either. But I think I like these rules. [ Comfortable. Content - and her drink empties in another mouthful, and she considers the vendor a moment. ] You can play a game with some people. Make them chase you through the people. Sometimes they catch you, sometimes they don't.

[Ahsoka tilts her head, listening. The idea of being chased was -- well, she had mixed feelings on it. It was always fun to outrun people, to be strong and faster and to show off sometimes when she wasn't supposed to posture. But at the same time, she'd spent two years being chased by Separatists -- and then for a brief time, her own Clone Army.

Her shoulders shift on the storefront.]

Takes a lot to catch a Jedi. Wouldn't be fair.

[Maybe she was cheating, tying them so strategically -- it was unlikely anyone would be able to sneak up on her anyway. Ahsoka chances a glance down at Angel's own ribbons and finds herself unable to fight her chuckle when she sees how many have already been torn off.]

Looks like you've been busy, though.

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PARTY PARTY PARTY

ota

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i forgot how many people here have blue hair

she only has blue tattoos..... ? that's better right....?

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