[mingle log] from down the length of the long table

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: OTA
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :040
SUMMARY: A dinner party.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

THE LONG TABLE seems to have grown itself from out of the Station itself at the center of the Circular Gardens. It's made of the same mottled gray and white material as the Station's corridors and light scattered floors and on it has been set a parade of dishes. They are hot and cool, familiar and unfamiliar, alien and nostalgic. The dishware is mismatched -
a slew of fine china, a handful of delicately painted ceramic bowls, brass and glass cups and an assortment of fluted metal champagne stems. Pitchers of sweet teas and spiced juices and thick, syrupy wines dot the long banquet table and strings of small, glittering lights have been stitched through the surrounding greenery.

It's pleasant, or it should be. Certainly some considerable effort has been made in the preparation and execution of the meal. And perhaps parts of this meeting must be sad, but surely some of them are as intended. Certainly Cathaway seems intent on being bright and friendly from her seat toward the middle of the table as she passes dishes and instructs how certain alien foods are to be eaten, with Prince stationed beside her. This is meant to be nice: an excuse to see one another's faces, to make idle conversation, to marvel at little victories. The egg stolen from The Fair Heart is a centerpiece of the table (though swathed in a silvery luminescent fabric and clearly for decoration, not eating). Prince, clothed in something besides his typical uniform, seems occasionally distracted by it.

But there's no denying that this might be a quieter affair than intended - less populated than is ideal. Still, the food is good and surely the company must be somewhat tolerable.

I. A TOAST To your success on Waypoint Shril and to every newly hatched Host. To old friends. To new ones. To the beings we miss and the ones we don't. To what's to come. There's plenty of beverages (alcoholic or non-) available to guzzle.

II. SCINTILLATING CONVERSATION There's enough room for everyone at the table, but absolutely no assigned seating. Hopefully you don't hate the person you're sitting next to.

III. CUISINE FROM A DISTANT LAND How exactly are you supposed to eat that?

IV. A PRIVATE CORNER The nice thing about garden party dinners is it's really easy to slip away, and the garden almost seems to be designed for it. There are, among the plants and trees and shrubs, small clusters of chairs rising from the floor, lit by the twinkling strands of lights.

V. WILDCARD Drink too much. Arm wrestle on the table. Play a nice rowdy game of spoons. Say something nice. Say something mean. Awkwardly chew food that's way, way too squishy.

---

((OOC Notes: This is the mingle log for the dinner party on Day :040. The dinner itself lasts a few hours unless the Hosts drag it out deep into what constitutes as evening on the station. Come and go as you please and feel free to get creative with the prompts - they're inspiration more than they are strict guidelines.))

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Comments

[erbier]

[ That amuses her. This one wasn't yet awake when she razed a path of terror through the Station, hurting friends and foe alike in a wild shrieking whirlwind of pain. All after losing the most beloved of her broodmates. She toys idly with the strings that surround Noctis. There's one of those in his brood as well, too wrapped up in their bond. What would happen if those strings were cut loose? ]

Most do, I am brought gifts of new plants and seedlings from the others. [ A faint smile, and then she turns the conversation back towards him, ] Perhaps your world has more elaborate cuisine?

[somnifacient]

[Noctis doesn't overthink the state of that bond. It's already begun to feel like a natural extension of himself in a way that he still doesn't completely understand. He doesn't consider what it might feel like to sever it, how either party might writhe and flail and the maybe self-destruct or all of the above at the disconnection. He can't imagine the void it would leave in its wake.

He hasn't thought that far ahead.]

I guess you could say that. [He wonders how much effort the citizens of Eos put into cuisine these days, what with the world gone dark. Food becomes less extravagant the more it falls under the category of "necessity" rather than "luxury".

But Noctis doesn't want to linger on that. Instead, the image of his chamberlain cutting vegetables, preparing soup, filleting fish, baking pastries...]

We have a little bit of everything. You can find food to suit anyone's tastes in Insomnia, but I've always been partial to sweets. I used to sneak into the kitchens of the Citadel- uh, that's where I lived. But I used to sneak in and steal pastries straight from the tray when I was younger.

[erbier]

[ The shape of his Insomnia and Citadel are so very different from the burned world, from the Godking's palace on its raised ziggurat. She smiles peaceably, enjoying the fantasy of it. She might've been more prone to jealousy in days past, but she knows now-- that it is as much hers as it is his. What is to be jealous of. ]

I would not have guessed you as a mischievous boy.

[ Her laughter is short, quiet, but sincere in its amusement. ]

[somnifacient]

[Her amusement gives rise to his own wry humor. The smallest huff of something sounding like a "heh", clinking his fork against his plate as he skewers some kind of alien fruit on it, its flesh cut into neat little squares.]

You know what they say. It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

[His shoulders move with a laugh that doesn't quite escape his lungs. He lifts his gaze back to her, a pang of nostalgia in his chest as he explains further.]

I was usually well-behaved, though. No point in getting in anyone's [his father's] hair. [Especially when they had their hands full with a war.]

[erbier]

[ She has a feeling that this saying may have been applied to her by other members of the Nest. So quiet and restrained, until her cruelty and her grief were teased out of her, igniting a horrifying pillar of flame. She'd learned her manners from a madman, not only his fiery rage but in avoiding it, she has the most peaceful of facades. ]

There's no need for that here. [ They were in each other's hair all the time. ] How have you settled?

[somnifacient]

[Maybe there's no need for it, but it's habit for him to keep to himself, even if it is a moot point when they're all part of some intricate, mental web. Only with those he feels comfortable with does Noctis show a different side of his personality, and very few here qualify for that. Broodmates, mostly.]

I'm still settling. [Honesty, though, is never restricted by familiarity.] There's a lot to readjust to, and there's a lot of new things to... accept.

[Like being unable to return to Eos, for one. That's the real sticking point for him, dredging up sorrow and guilt in equal measure if he bothers to focus on it. For the sake of pleasant dinner conversation, he doesn't.]

Have you been here for very long?

[erbier]

Three and a half months. Not long at all.

[ But long enough for her to have shed all of her skin, a snake becoming new. Every perspective has changed, more than once, although her current considerations see her calm and comfortable. For now. Unhappiness is like a favorite pair of earrings to her, something she can only put away for so long before familiarity draws her back to that melancholy again. She wears it prettily. ]

I think there is still much I am adjusting to, but I do remember being... very new. It is a struggle. A weak brood can make it more so.

[somnifacient]

[She says it's not long at all, but three and a half months sounds like an eternity to someone who's still struggling to deal with a much shorter stay. He tells himself to just take it one day at a time, and hasn't really given thought to what life will be like on the station one month, three months, six months, a few years from now.

He frowns a little at her wording though. A weak brood?]

And what would you consider a weak brood?

[erbier]

One which fights amongst itself.

[ She reassures him that this is not idle judgment by saying, ]

My brood was particularly weak.

[ And still is. She and Steven have hardly reconciled since he returned to the Station. ]

[somnifacient]

[He hadn't even thought about that. The closeness of a brood, spiraling towards towards discontent and strife. The realization seems to flicker in him for the first time, visible on his face.

When he looks at her, it isn't pitying, though it does eke sympathy.]

"Was"? It's stronger now? [Hopefulness, in the lilt of that last question.]

[erbier]

[ She knows this, about new hosts. That they don't understand. She hadn't understood either, she had been quite cavalier when Adam Parker had died, that his brood would be alright without him. Even when his broodmate had taken to her bed and Ilde had comforted her, witnessing her suffering. She hadn't understood it personally. Not until Anakin had died.

Anakin's death had torn her fraught little brood to pieces, and they had never, ever recovered. ]

No. It is just the two of us, now, and we have not spoken in weeks.

[ But that was fine. Her solitude has been liberating. ]

[somnifacient]

[If he knew how the death of one broodmate tore the rest of them apart, Noctis' sympathy would rise by several degrees. Perhaps it's merciful, then, that he remains oblivious to Anakin being taken.

That is, for all of three seconds. Until he opens his big mouth and potentially makes the conversation more awkward than need be. Noctis is an expert in that, sometimes.]

The others... they went back to sleep, right? [A coma. Already since his arrival, a few hosts that he didn't know had slipped into one. The Nest, poked with holes that wouldn't ever be filled again.]

[erbier]

They did. Jessica was barely among us a few days, and then gone.

[ A kite without a breeze to fly on, Ilde smiles fondly at nothing in particular. They had tried to love Jessica anyway. In a way, not knowing her it was almost easier; there were no regrets between them. Still,]

It is strange, to carry along the ghost of a woman I did not know.... [ Her gaze returns to Noctis. ] And then Anakin died on Opia, at the heart of an explosion. The grief dissolved us. [ Like acid, eating away at their bonds. ] Steven and Ren were both too stubborn... When Sam was no longer here to play diplomat between them, they both just... faded away, from each other, and from me.

[ She toys with the rim of a glass of water. ]

For a little while, I was the only one remaining. It was preferable to the lingering distance between Steven and I.

[ But she's still smiling, this has become a story to tell rather than a wound, a layer of removal from the pain of it all. ]

[somnifacient]

[She explains it with a detachment that might be puzzling to him if he were to analyze it further. Instead, sympathy rolls in, a giant wave of a thing. Something that Noctis will probably never be able to control, even with all of the practice in the world.]

I'm really sorry to hear that. [It sounds pathetic, that kind of consolation. He thinks that she might not even want it, that she has no use for such a thing from a fresh-faced newbie like him, but he offers it anyway. Even to long-healed wounds that have no need for salves.]

Your broodmate, Steven. [He almost decides against asking, but he's already said the words. He may as well continue.] You guys have tried to work things out?

[As if it would be so easy.]

[erbier]

There was a chance that our brood might have become quite magnificent, once, but it is squandered now. I have better uses for my time.

[ Steve Rogers has become more of an idle inconvenience to her, more than anything else. A niggling irritating little sensation at a distance, but it is easy enough to drown him out with other voices within the Nest. ]

Perhaps you and yours will see a better fate.

[somnifacient]

[A potential squandered. He wonders if that's how he should be looking at his brood as a whole. An amalgamation, a singular entity whose purpose is bigger than the individual parts it consists of.

The thought reminds him of Cathaway, for some reason, though he doesn't say it.]

I guess we'll see. There's no one that I have issue with, not yet.

[Some bonds are stronger than others, but that's just how it'll be.]

One's even from my home.

[erbier]

I have seen hosts from shared worlds bond, as well as squabble.

[ A jaded little smile, of course Ren would choose the destructive route. Of course Steven would choose his kind over her. ]

Are you pleased with the acquaintance?

[somnifacient]

I can't complain.

[Generally speaking, he means. Concerning the entirety of his brood.

Specifically, about Nyx, however? The man's face flashes through his mind, clear for her to see.]

I actually don't know him all that well, but he seems like a good man. [Headstrong and bound to the Glaive by more than just duty, but good.] He used to serve my father before he died.

[erbier]

Is that burdensome to you? To live up to your father, in his mind?

[ She doesn't intend to be cruel in asking that, but perhaps the question is a thoughtless one. Perhaps she doesn't care. ]

[somnifacient]

[Even if it did make Noctis uncomfortable to answer that question (it does), he's the sort of person to respond to it sincerely. He doesn't think that Ilde is trying to bring up a difficult subject to talk about; too many times in the past has he done the same, unknowingly. It'd be hypocritical of him to be annoyed by it.

Though it's noticeable the way his grip around his fork tightens a little. He doesn't look at her directly, only reaching forward to skewer a strange-looking piece of fruit on its prongs.]

Depends on which "me" you ask. [The one from ten years ago, or the one now. Tired but resigned.] When I was growing up, I tried not to even think about it. I was too intimidated, I didn't think I was ready to take the throne. I saw how it affected my father. It sapped the life out of him.

[Literally.]

I didn't think I could be that strong.

[erbier]

[ She watches him with a placid kind of amusement. The burden of destiny is a story that has dominated her life. ]

We are never given more than we deserve.

[ It is a cruel saying from her cruel world, a place twisted by a madman's dogma. Suffering and powerlessness were akin to purity under his rule... And oh such suffering was meted out. ]

[somnifacient]

[He doesn't find it cruel, instead only cutting through the usual niceties to the heart of the matter: was he strong enough, in the end? Did he deserve the fate he was expected to be crushed under?

These questions aren't enough to spark bitterness in him, not anymore. Now, only quiet consideration.]

That can't always be true.

[Too plainly said to be a real rebuttal. He might've well have complimented it with a shrug of his shoulders.]

[erbier]

I have thought, from time to time, but I find the truth of it always comes around.

[ She has struggled with what it is she deserves, if anything at all. She had been a creature on a pedestal, obsessed over and adored by a madman with the power to incinerate an entire world. She had believed him, because he was her god and she was his angel; his symbol for all that was good in the world, an innocent martyr to bear the weight of those less than herself.

She knows so much of that to be merely is ravings, now, but-- The sense of herself, of her destiny and weight in the workings of things was a hard pattern to break.

Every crisis of faith can be resolved... by returning to the cruel prophecies of Godking Dreus. ]