[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.

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((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

noctis | ota

[somnifacient]

A) SCINTILLATING CONVERSATION… MAYBE

[Making conversation is not a strong suit of his, but he feels awkward sitting and eating in silence, especially while in the company others. It’s a pang of self-consciousness that he tries to keep out of his body language, and instead prevalently felt through the way it mentally ekes outward.

His fork clinks against his plate, and Noctis forces himself to say something interesting to jumpstart the conversation that had begun to lull.]

So—

[So. So what.]

What’s the food like where you’re from?

B) CUISINE FROM A DISTANT LAND

[While it’s difficult not to feel appreciative towards all the effort put into the dinner party as a whole, Noctis is, unfortunately, a picky eater on a normal day. Anything that resembles a vegetable does not make its way to his mouth; it’s a bias that he’s never grown out of, and likely never will.

And so, when something an opaquely green and… viscous ends up on his plate, threatening to ooze off the edges, Noctis screws up his face, looking down at it with some skepticism. It reminds him of a flan monster, and as he’d be apt to say, he’s not a fan of mushy desserts.

He keeps his back straight, his fork questionably hovering over it. Should he be using a spoon instead? A straw? By the Six, this just didn’t seem like a good idea.

Noctis lightly elbows the person next to him, then pointedly glances down at his plate.]

Hey. Try this for me.

[Be the proverbial guinea pig. Please.]

C) BAD DECISIONS

[Someone’s drunk. Someone’s bleeding inebriation through their link. Maybe it’s Noctis, but that's highly unlikely. Either way, it’s affecting him. Take a look at Exhibit A, for instance:

He summons what appears to be an oversized shuriken with his magic, appearing in blue fractals, taking shape in mere seconds before him. The Star of the Rogue glistens in the light, and Noctis slams a point down into the table with a shuddering force. It pierces the surface and sticks, standing still as he releases it from his grip.

He grins, the smallest flicker of a challenge in his eyes.]

Think you can throw it straight? Never mind actually hitting a target.

D) WILDCARD

[Up for anything!]

A

[erbier]

[ She has been quiet at his side herself, but she looks up politely when he speaks to her. Although his question makes her smile ruefully. There was no cuisine where she came from, she had spent her childhood haunted by starvation. She is not shy about such disclosure, but it seems out of place in this moment, with so much food before them. ]

Some of it is before you.

[ She motions to a bowl of berries, another with slices of vegetable. ]

I maintain a private garden here.

[ She can still be found in the Circle Gardens, at times. She wouldn't simply abandon it, but she does have a place that only she and Bellamy can find. Hers. ]

adrasteius | ota

[hymnals]

i. pray;

[ Adra's impressed by the spread, even if he can't eat most of it. Still, there's obvious care and effort here, and Adrasteius appreciates a well-cooked meal on principle. Making food for others takes thought, it takes time and preparation. There are many ways to nourish another person, but he respects the direct route.

(Unless it's all poison. Some paranoid hiss slithers around the back of his mind, the remnant of living so long in a dangerous police state, of trying to survive a place where they really were out to get you.)

He takes a seat, and he clasps his hands. Bows his head. A soft halo of Light fringes his cornsilk bangs as he begins to pray. ]

Light bless us and keep us, and make us grateful for these and all other gifts.

ii. eat;

[ He's hoping that everything on his plate is some kind of fruit or vegetable. He's got spinach and pears, at least--his staple basics--and he's pretty sure he's found some skethylberries, too. Or some grape-like thing that has a similar tart, crisp taste.

He's not fully sure about everything in front of him, though, particularly the soup. The broth is a rich caramel color, and it smells of cardamom, of pepper flakes and turmeric. There are small, pearlescent bulbs floating in the soup, like raw onions, as well as bits of something green and sweet. The smell is overall delicious, but it's hard to tell with broth.

He offers a spoonful to the person next to him. ]

Do you think this has meat in it? Do me a favor.

iii. get a little drunk;

[ Despite his own fondness for food and cooking, Adra doesn't eat much. It's not long before he's broken away to spend some time alone, especially because the added layer of so many minds crowding around his own is difficult to tolerate. He's still too new to fend anybody off with much success, which meant that dinner was a rollicking trip through far too many emotional--and gastrointestinal--landscapes.

He's trying to meditate, now, his legs folded appropriately, his palms up. He's floating a few inches off of the ground as he does so, but his posture is wobbly. Truth be told, he's having a difficult time concentrating. Adra likes his wine, but he'd only taken one glass with dinner, though it was thick-bodied and heavy in his blood. Still, he suspects the roil in his stomach isn't solely his own doing. He feels loose-limbed, smeared around the edges, hungry for something beyond the plate.

But no. He sets his jaw. He furrows his brows. He struggles for focus. If he hears footsteps, he mutters. ]

Join me.

iv. wildcard;

[ come at me, bro ]

B

[futurewitness]

[ Lucina, on the other hand? Not so picky, as a side effect of living in a time where you're glad just to have something to eat. So she's been quietly sampling her way through the entire array of foods, and while there are some she'd definitely prefer to revisit over others, she's yet to find anything that truly disagrees with her.

So she doesn't even blink at Noctis and his mystery mess. Takes a moment to finish chewing and swallowing her own alien monstrosity (it looks a bit like a cinnamon roll, but it's pink and the texture is closer to okra) as she eyes his plate.

Nope, no problem here. She reaches over, stopping her spoon a few inches away (because it feels really rude, even if he just invited her?). ]

May I?

[adamance]

a: a toast (because everyone knows Lexa likes to give speeches)

[If there is one thing to be said about the Station, it's that the lack of "customary" approaches to things like toasts can be appreciated. Though there is an opening set of remarks, there is still obviously room for more. When the time seems appropriate, Lexa is glad to stand up, raise her glass, and draw the attention of others on her. What must be clear is this: while she has been taking sips of her drink, she has kept herself from becoming inebriated so that her words are clear and her intentions shine through.

They are, after all, in each other's heads.]

Many of you know nothing of what came before. If there were a way of preventing the changing of guards, so to speak, I believe we would manage it. If we could, we would. [She's certain of that. But even her conversations with Becca via the chip have yielded her with nothing in this arena.] Still, we find ourselves gathered here today because of our successes. We not only succeeded on a difficult mission like Concordia, we managed to take matters into our own hands, rather than play along with the circumstances before us. That proves how versatile we are.

Moving forward, there is much we have to accomplish. I believe that if we continue to utilize the tools that we had before we became Hosts, we will succeed more than we will fail. It's important to recognize that within ourselves, and use our new strengths accordingly. Who you are now is who you will be no matter the fight ahead. It's easy to fear something different, but I believe we can gather here and show how we are at one point, a group working in unison, but another that also intends to maintain ... ourselves in the process. Otherwise, what would be the point?

We can't fear what comes next. Instead, we must be ready. I believe that isn't a tall order. Thank you all.

[And then the girl who thinks she's still playing politics sits down. It was meant to be motivational, but it's also meant to draw reactions. When she pulls her glass to her lips, it's apparent that she's open for those reactions.]

b: it's not that she wants to be isolated

[Even though Lexa has been a part of the Station for months and months, there is that part of her that still prefers silence after a large gathering like this. Though she feels that she may acquire too many eyes on her for parting early, she still seeks out a private part of the garden for herself. Her mind gets lost, at least for a moment, as she recalls her last few occasions like this, and finds herself missing some of the individuals who might have normally been with her.

Still, should anyone care to see what she's doing, she's not exactly a person who can be crept up on. If she seems like she might be, she'll turn toward them before they get too close, offering an initial nod in greeting.]

c: wildcard

[Lexa will be drinking throughout the evening and therefore more smiley and chattier than normal, but there's the sense that she's a person who's all too in control of herself and her condition to really go too far with that. For those who know her well, she'll be warmer toward them.]

that speech, sort of.

[erbier]

[ Ilde rises as she finishes, gathering up some emptied plates with polite inquires to those around her, offering to refill glasses, or fetch more food, or simply take the plate away. Before she goes about those requests given, she glances up at Lexa and says flatly, full of ice and hate, ]

Thank you for that, Lexa.

[ Then turns away and busies herself with anything less tedious than the Commander. Politics indeed. ]

Ilde | Ota

[erbier]

A.) General
[ The table they have set can do nothing but bring Ilde back to the day Camille died. The tang of gore lingers subtly beneath the surface of her calm. But she is that, calm, smiling to herself softly as she lays out settings and dishes for the dinner. This get together was not her idea, nor is she the one who summoned them, she merely did as a friend requested, and little more.

She will sit at a far corner of the table, drinking only water, eating what is on her plate, but she is watching the others more than anything else. Observing who agrees with Cathaway, and tries to make this pleasant. Observing who sulks and glowers, uses this moment to try to unfurl their elder before the others. Notes who doesn't come at all.

She is certain, in her stubborn way, that this theater will never be the familial meal Cathaway was hoping for, and she is happy in her easy certainty. There is little that will rile her visibly today, but she supposes there are always those who may feel the need to try. ]

B.) Reaction
[ She does hate some people though. ]

C.) Wildcard
[ Do whatever ]

iii

[greentech]

[ Pidge doesn't really know Adrasteius that well. They just haven't talked and she hasn't seem him around too often. She's been wrapped up in her own projects, but the weird little garden party is a chance to eat and meet people. Or at least see their faces. She's wandered off from the main party and discovered an elf. Floating. She pauses at a distance for a few moments. There's a looseness that floats into her and makes her feel a bit relaxed.

It reminds her of the giant street party she went to with Angel all that time ago. ]

Wait, join you...?

[ She steps forward with a bit of caution. ]

And do what?

[somnifacient]

[Noctis would feel a sliver of embarrassment if he had known that the person he just asked such a thing to had ample experience with starvation in the past. An innocent questioned turned thoughtless, without even a modicum of effort on his part.

It's a small blessing, then, that he remains oblivious to it. And so he just looks at the bowl of berries (which looks appetizing), then the slices of vegetables (not so much -- no offense, Ilde).]

That's impressive. [And it's not empty flattery. Noctis does appreciate the effort put into gardening, even if he's clueless about the subject in general.] You must have a pretty green thumb. I don't think I'd have the patience for it.

[somnifacient]

[Her eagerness is surprising, and Noctis blinks once, twice. In the brief pause, he catches glance of what's on her own plate, and he can't decide exactly what he thinks it might taste like. Sweet? Savory? Was it... meat? How could Lucina be eating it so casually?

The spoon hovers in his peripheral, bringing him back to the conversation at hand. He nods at her, almost automatically.]

Yeah, by all means... go crazy.

[He will watch with vague disbelief if she actually eats it unflinchingly.]

guess which (it's c)

[lavelly]

[Lavellan smiles blithely up at Noctis. What do the Orlesians call it? Deja vu? Whatever it is, it's a funny mirror of their first meeting.

The weapon, however, is met with a confused frown.]

I don't think I could throw it straight even if... I was sober. I don't even know if I could lift it.

2

[lavelly]

[Lavellan raises a confused eyebrow at him but takes the spoon.]

Is there some problem with meat? [It hadn't been a large part of his diet back in Thedas, to be sure, but it was important to have it; when you lived off the land you appreciated what you got. The idea that someone would simply not eat it is boggling to him.

Still, he doesn't actually say any of that. Out loud. The soup is nothing like he's ever had before, but it's edible, and seems to be vegetable. In consistency, at least, if not in taste.]

I don't think there is.

why are they like this

[somnifacient]

[Maybe if Noctis were a little more lucid, this being the second time this has happened in Lavellan's company would be borderline embarrassing. Right now, though, he's not cognizant of such a thing. The fact that he's just planted a Royal Arm into the banquet table is also no big deal.]

It's not as heavy as it looks.

[As if to illustrate this, Noctis grabs it by its middle, unsticking it from the table. There's a big hole there now, but that's fine, right?

He offers it to him. (Carefully. He's not that out of sorts.)] Try.

[erbier]

My world was... difficult. It was a privilege, to be tasked as gardener, and learn from the one who came before me. It is not a purpose I find so easy to lay down.

[ It's more than just a hobby, or a pleasure, is what she means in this. ]

It is important to me, to provide fresh harvests even here in the Station. I studied new methods, while we were in Concordia, my yields have grown well, although not so well that I am able to feed us all regularly. One day, with a bit of time.

[ She smiles, not trying to make the conversation too heavy. ]

I am quite patient, as you say.

OTA

[shiro2hero]

1) GENERAL
[He's... not sure he wanted to show up here. Something about it just feels... odd. Like it's some kind of forced venture -- some kind of production they're all supposed to put on. Still, still... he's the Leader. He should at least try and make an appearance.]

[Even if the sight of a table, of people seated around it, just rings hollow. Brings up thoughts of the Castle, of multicolored armor and people laughing. Flinging green goo everywhere.]

[He'll sit, eventually, toward an unoccupied end. In an effort to keep some distance between himself and potential intoxicated minds.]


2) FOOD
[What he wouldn't give for cafeteria macaroni again.]

[There's little more than a glass of water and what looks like tiny watermelons in front of him. Except when he pokes them open, their interior is blue. And looks more like a 7-11 slurpee than watermelon.]

[At least he's had worse.]

... and at least it's not green goo.


3) WILDCARD
[Hit him with anything, or try to make him unwind a little whoops]

A

[wille]

[ There's a certain understanding between the two of them, or at least that's how Misato would describe it. Loss is a common language between them even if it will remain unspoken, and then there is the matter of Petre, which she also hopes will remain unspoken. Unlike the other woman, she eats heartily and quickly, having finished the equivalent of a few grown men's portions by the time she sets her cutlery down. ]

Waiting for something?

[ Cathaway had called her observant, which she denies, but maybe, just maybe, she's beginning to grow into it. Something about Ilde seems expectant. ]

[somnifacient]

[Noctis listens, curiosity flickering, idly wondering what sort of world a "difficult" one might be. The same descriptor could be applied to his own.

But the effort to avoid making this a weighty conversation doesn't escape his notice either. He's kind enough to adjust his curiosity accordingly.]

Even if it's not regularly, if it's enough to manage something like this- [a sweep of his gaze over the banquet table] -every now and again... it's worth it, I think. Everyone should be thanking you for the effort.

[That, maybe, reveals a bit of his naiveté.]

WILDCARD

[sociopathicwolf]

[ This dinner idea is bullshit as far as Derek's concerned. As if any of them were there because they wanted to be, because they were all one big happy family. As if any of them would have come here if they had any other choice.

It reminds him of the Lyle House and its false, sunny pretense trying to cover up the corpses in its basement. He's going to treat it the same way.

Which means showing up to this thing to grab as much food as he can, and leave as soon as no one will notice. There's more people here, which is only good because it means most of them are distracted with each other. Except one who seems to be keeping distance of his own, who's blocking the dish that Derek's got his eyes on.

Derek's already got a plate loaded with food, but he looms over where the guy is standing anyway, glaring at him like he expects him to know why he's there. ]

[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?

[erbier]

[ She sits back in her chair to give herself room to to turn and look at Misato, feet crossed at the ankle and angled to the side. She says nothing at all for a moment, just continues her observation. It isn't a particularly threatening inspection, just quiet, thoughtful. ]

Curious to see if our group truly can share a meal peaceably.

[shiro2hero]

[If he didn't have his back up already, and, if there weren't that mental link, he may not have noticed someone glowering. And even if he had, part of him wouldn't have cared in the least. He's too tired and wrung-out for this weird male posturing.]

[He stays where he is, leaning on his elbows.]

You need something?

[... without even turning around.]

[wille]

[ Misato lets out a pained expression, an apparent wince, easily taking Ilde's words as a personal slight against her. That's what happens when one is turned so inward, the view in front of her always an unforgiving mirror of herself. ]

Sometimes it's better to fight it out than keep it in. [ That sounded better in her head, less warmongering, and the self-reproach is written so clearly on her face. Let's try another tack: ] You look better.

[erbier]

[ She rests a hand lightly at the edge of the table, slender hands carefully washed of any dirt for this event. She's watching the way Misato ebbs and flows with so little real pressure from her. She wonders if the other woman was always that way and now she had the perspective to see it... or if something has changed. ]

I have little opinion on how those of you remaining behave. [ Is that cold? Yeah, probably. ] But yes, I am doing much better.

[ Those two facts may be related. ]

And you?

[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.

[futurewitness]

[ She carefully scoops up a bite - not a huge one, but not a tiny "I am afraid to try this" one, either.

And down the hatch it goes. There's a long pause as she - well, doesn't really need to chew it - and considers. ]

It's a bit minty, but there's an aftertaste I'm not quite sure how to describe.