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[mingle log] from down the length of the long table
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.
((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.))
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.))
no subject
[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.
no subject
[ She doesn't intend to be cruel in asking that, but perhaps the question is a thoughtless one. Perhaps she doesn't care. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ 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. ]