TEST DRIVE MEME #8

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you not with mirthful revelry, this time around dear friends. There is a seriousness in the air, though the food is still hearty and the imps still mischievous. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket! Be mindful, though -- the monarchs are watching and cross court communication should be done with the utmost secrecy.

Comments

Bobby Drake | Marvel Comics | Seelie

[chilledout]

01: the feast

[Enough weird things have happened to Bobby Drake that a fairy coming and requesting that he follows it to a different world isn't that unusual. In truth, he assumes it's going to be a brief trip, and when he hears about a war, he starts to get a strange sense of déjà vu. Hadn't Hank said something like that before they followed him to the future? Sure, it sounded a lot more dire, buuuuut ...

War is war. He's learned that mutants get up in all kinds of wars, and none of them are good. His time in space has taught him that war is a common place thing, and none of it is good. But when he tries to turn back, when he tries to back out—he can't.

No, it's not as simple as that. But he's here now, and before long, there's a lot of food and no angry Mole Man trying to eat him. In terms of alternate universe experiences, the Drabwurld is currently beating the Mole Man and the Terror of Atlanta.

Not one to sit down and be still ever, Bobby finds himself bouncing around before long, heading from person to person to tap on their shoulder. Of course, Bobby is rather unique looking, as he looks like a living, breathing ... Iceman. As he is rather appropriately named, after all.]

Hey—I've got some questions. Important ones, and not just "how do you get that sweet fairy gig." Though that seems pretty great, too, if you ask me. Look at how much they can do ... and how much power they have! Anyway—you up for chatting? I guess I should know something about all that stuff they mentioned. [From that babble, one thing is clear: Bobby isn't keen to shut up.

In fact, it takes about ten seconds for him to be impatient to start speaking again ...]

02: the station

Technology! Coffee! Things I never thought I'd miss, but I did miss them. Hey, you—do you like lattes? Or cappuccinos? [At this, the ice-covered teenager pauses and makes a rather animated expression of drawing his hand to his chin to think it through.] What is the difference between those two, anyway?

[Naturally, his trip to the Station hadn't taken long. Bobby had heard of it having many of the commodities that he had gotten used to ... even if he had gotten used to them at their very scary prison like school. But still, he likes TVs. He likes fridges. And when he really needs to be hyped up, he likes ice coffee.

Not that Bobby Drake ever requires the extra energy ... ever.]

1

[yugo]

[It's possibly Bobby had approached someone behind Yugo, seeing as he's barely four and a half feet tall, but who knows. He's talking back anyway.]

I know about as much as you do.

[A slow headtilt.]

Wait, shouldn't you be outside? You might melt in here.

V. V for Vendetta.

[voxpopuli]

network. video.

Interest piqued and rather pleased that my passion and yours align in such a purposeful manner that neither/nor and either/or of us will be forced to lead the the other along the primrose path.

Rather, accepting Screwtape at his word, we shall both take the gentle slope, soft underfoot, and wind about until an amenable place is found enabling us to affect those minute particulars and bring about that green and pleasant land.

awesome

[desperate_times]

network:

Woa, slow down there, Shakespeare. I wasn't expecting poetry.

Nux | Mad Max: Fury Road | Seelie

[livedielive]

OPTION ONE

This kid stinks. You probably smelled him coming from half a table down. But he's next to you now, whether you like it or not: shirtless, grinning with a mouth full of rotten teeth, and clinking his glass into yours. Wine spills onto the table.

"To the wars of the next world!" He shouts as he raises his glass high.

OPTION TWO [Content Warning: emetophobia]

There's more to eat and drink here than Nux has ever seen in his life — and that comes with an inherent danger. Even too much water can cause trouble for a person who spent their life on the verge of dehydration.

At least he made it away from the crowd and out of the main hall before it really hit him. Nux rounds a corner before he has to brace himself against the wall, doubles over and spills his guts onto the floor.

When it's over, he spits, trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth, wipes the back of a hand across his lips, and stays bent over to catch his breath. So much for the generosity of his new patrons. Hopefully no one saw that.

1

[chilledout]

"What about the showers of the next world? Can you embrace the showers of the next world?" Never one to be anything but transparent as possible, Bobby's nose has wrinkled up and he's looking at Nux as if he's the smelliest person he's ever smelled.

This may be true (for the moment), but Bobby is a teenage boy. He's probably had his moments.

connor walsh | how to get away with murder | unseelie

[sextings]

ａｔ　ｔｈｅ　ｆｅａｓｔ ．

[ None of this adds up and might as well be one seriously fucked up dream from too much Adderall, paranoia, and paperwork.

(Connor is beginning to wonder if the lie he'd spit out so gracelessly at Oliver is starting to actually become... not so much of a lie anymore.)

Over the years, Connor has compiled a mental guide of How to Combat a Variety of Social Situations With Ease and Finesse. It isn't perfect, but it sure as hell beats having nothing to go off of. He's smart, he's worked with crowds and strangers before. This shouldn't be difficult. But nothing here could possibly be considered textbook unless your tomes of choice are Grimm's Fairytales and every single fantasy book in existence all rolled into one. He guesses it's just another chapter to add to the handbook: attending a feast that shouldn't feel as tense as it does. The merriment is there, the drinking, the laughter--but there's a tension that hangs. Something's happened and it hangs in the words he's been told. It all sounds so grave, but god if it also doesn't sound like he should turn to his left and ask Legolas what his elf-eyes see or something to that effect.

Whatever you do, don't drink the kool-aid, he reminds himself, sliding fingers around a too-delicate feeling cup and holding it in his fingers. The liquid is dark, smells like wine, but he holds off on having some just yet. The imps bounding around seem all too interested in getting him to drink and he's got a feeling that it probably isn't going to end well.

He tries not to grip the cup too tightly. Wake up, wake up, wake up. The logical part of him wants to kick it into high drive and reason all of this away, but it grows tired, has grown tired of trying to make sense of a bunch of information that sums up to the following: you can't go home, you've got some war to fight.

Not one to skirt the edges of the party, Connor moves through the crowds, between tables, brushes a little too close when he hears particularly interesting conversation--pieces of information he might like to tuck away for now.

If he's caught your eyes up between the soft light and hum of voices and music and you're particularly handsome (or beautiful, even) he offers a smile, wholly inviting and a little predatory. He's clinging to that feeling right now (and his cup, still untouched)--relax. ]

Come here often or is this a first for you too?

[ He leans in a bit, taps glass against glass so the sound resonates between the two of them. ]

ｔｈｅ　ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ ．

[ Here's Connor with a cup of coffee on the patio in the station, decked out in greenery, sun filtering through, warm and bright.

Coffee is pretty the only thing that matters at this point in time. Fairy coffee, sure, but coffee none the less, and maybe it tastes that much better because it's fairy coffee. Who knows?

There's a locket settled in the center of the table, his locket, kind of as if he'd haphazardly tossed it there and is just staring at it grudgingly. Like he's waiting for it to just suddenly spew out a slew of truths instead of just a myriad of posts with names he doesn't recognize. It's a reminder that this is definitely real, no matter how many times he takes the locket up in his hands, runs the chain through his fingers, opens it, shuts it, drops it from his fingers until it jounces back up and clinks softly against his ring, draws taut on his knuckles.

Company is welcome with an easy, sly smile and a gesture to the chair across from him. ]

You look like you could use a seat and I could use some company.

[ So sit down and make yourself useful. ]

FEAST II

[naytheist]

[By now Cesare likes to think that he can tell the new kids from the veterans. For one thing, he knows most of the unseelies by now, at least by their faces. For another thing, the newbies have a propensity towards looking as if they've just watched their pets die.

Connor is doing well, looks calmer than a lot of the others, but he hasn't touched his drink yet. Cesare saunters over to him and smiles politely.]

It is safe.

[He gently pulls the cup from Connor's grasp and takes a meaningful sip before handing it back to him.]

Ange (Princess Angelise Ikaruga Misurugi) | Cross Ange | Unseelie

[ragnarock]

01. the feast… rather, slightly away from it

[ Bullshit!

She stalked down the halls, fists and teeth clenched, trying to put the noise of the feast behind her. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe what they’d told her – she knew from experience that denial usually just made things more painful in the long run. But even if it was true, it was complete bullshit! How had she gotten stuck with saving worlds again? Hadn’t she made it clear last time that she didn’t care about wars and magnificent duties duties? Fighting was all well and good, but couldn’t it be Salako’s turn to be kidnapped to weird worlds by creepy old men? Couldn’t Salia be the one with a great and glorious role for once? At least Salia wanted to be chosen and special; Ange just wanted to open the café with Momoka every morning and close it every night with Tusk. Come to think of it, Salia might even like it here – the fussy clothes, the unpronounceable words, the duty. And Salia would probably enjoy the dress-up plus magic part more than she should --

A breeze rustled from further down the hall; Ange broke into a jog and flung another one of those depressing silver-and-onyx doors open, revealing a small balcony. She didn’t expect fresh air to calm her down, but at least the sky was better than the depressing décor in the castle. She slumped forward on the broad railing, and stared mulishly up at the night sky. Fairy kidnappers, fairy kings, fairy wars, wars affecting her worlds. It was all so stupid— and, unfortunately, it was the kind of story that was too stupid to make up; the kind of story people only repeated if they believed it was true. And people could just be wrong, but … She rested her head in her hands irritably. People could be wrong, but what these people said about the worlds didn’t contradict anything she’d experienced first-hand. She knew there were multiple Earths, and that travel between them was possible. And she knew that the Eternal Song drew some of its power by resonating with universal laws of death and rebirth, just like this Void was supposed to…

The Eternal Song!

She straightened up, staring at the green gemstone on her finger. When she’d been in Embryo’s Arzenal, trapped outside time and space, her friends had been able to her song, and she’d been able to hear Salako’s. Her activation ring was here with her, but Salia and Hilda still had theirs; her friends could still use Villkiss to reach her here -- Tusk could still use Villkiss to reach her here. Forget what the fairies said about not being able to return until their stupid war was over; her friends could reach between worlds to come and get her. They had before, they could, they definitely would. Definitely…

She drew in a deep breath of alien air and closed her eyes. For a moment, she might have been back in the imperial palace at Misurugi, with her mother at her side. The lullaby that guides the royal family… She lifted her head and began to sing, steady and slow and full-throated, throwing the tune out as a lifeline between time and space. ]

Here’s the light that starts everything
Sparkling and sparkling
Here’s the light that ends all things,
Lulala lila.

Come now, come now, El Ragna,
Turn the great hourglass.
Let time stir and overflow,
Lulala lila.

Flames of countless, countless lives
Fall as sand, down through the glass
Smooth and bright, beautifully becoming stars.
Down along the river they flow, churning as they fall,
In this cradle of life, this cradle of death
They burn away, elegantly.

[ Just as it had done since she was a child, the mere act of singing the Song calmed her. But the hope it engendered gave her strength, too: the Song and her friends had always protected her before. Whatever the universe was trying to drag her into, they’d help her now. ]



02. the station

[ A wiry blonde woman is standing on one of the train station platforms, shouting at the green-stone ring on her finger, too carried away to notice much of her surroundings. ]

Villkiss! Villkiss, you’re supposed to work here! I’ll beat the shit out of you if you don’t show up—!

[ What’s the point of a bubble where technology works if you can’t use it to summon your empathic dimension-hopping giant robot? What’s the point of an empathic dimension-hopping giant robot if it doesn’t come to the bubble where technology works when you call for it? ]

feast!

[andallbite]

[ It isn't unusual for Eren to take to any of the various balconies during these feasts, a reprieve from the crowds and noise that echoes throughout the great hall. Even after nearly two years, one celebration after another still hasn't turned him any more sociable than when he first arrived (was first... unwittingly dragged here, really), so aside from picking out faces from the crowd—ones he already knew, usually, with the occasional stranger and newcomer—he doesn't tend to stick around for long.

He passes through the threshold just in time to hear a melodious voice sing out, something almost tranquil, and yet... Eren doesn't have an artistic bone in his body, and he wouldn't be able to put a finger on it, but there was something about it that felt as though she were doing more than singing a simple song to herself.

Eren doesn't interrupt as he takes steady steps toward the edge of the balcony, as if footsteps alone might disrupt her, casually folding his arms over the railing. With appropriate distance between them, he stands, listens, waiting for her to finish before he says anything at all. ]

Not every day you hear someone with that kinda voice.

Kylar Stern | Night Angel trilogy | Undecided

[mercurialize]

A: FEAST ON

This could be worse.

Welcome to another world at war, would you like some cheese with your wine? Not the best slogan, but Kylar imagined it was the best tactic these people could muster. "People" being a loose term, he was finding. At least nothing would be poisoned, or so he boldly assumed as he helped himself to a drink. If he assumed wrong, well, he could live with that.

Glass in hand he stood near a wall for a better view of the room. It was hard to blend in when so many others looked as bewildered as he felt. But pretending he knew what he was doing wasn't so hard. He was a master at it, some days. Hopefully today was such a day.

"Lively celebration, huh?" He said to the nearest individual with a lopsided grin on his face.


B: Wildcard

(Whatever, wherever, just go and I'll follow)

[survivra]

[ It probably wasn't poisoned. (It could be poisoned. It was the Unseelie court, everything could probably be poisoned.)

Katsa's not all that interested in either food, festivities, or people, but after she'd missed the last one and Po had turned up, she figures she ought at least to make an appearance. But she stays against the wall, too, a drink of her own in hand, and this is how Kylar finds himself on the receiving end of a very blank, almost sardonic mismatched stare.

Katsa's just going to stare at him for a while and not dignify him with an answer before she shrugs and takes a drink. ]

It's lively in here, for now.

Hayden Fire Dancer | The Seven Realms Series | Seelie

[flashcraft]

A.
[This is not Dancer's sort of crowd, that much is obvious by the vaguely uncomfortable look on his face and the way he edges through the mess of people.

He's young-ish, perhaps a year or so past his name day. His dark hair is littered with beaded braids and a number of pendants hang around his neck over a deerskin shirt. Periodically, his hand goes to the largest of those, a carved jasper and jade amulet, holding it for a few seconds before letting go again seemingly without thought. Those with any magic of their own might notice that he has a slight aura, and that it appears to die down each time he puts a hand to the amulet.

Escaping the crowd seems to be his goal for the time being. If he manages that without incident then he eventually works his way out to a balcony, going immediately to the railing and taking deep, steady breaths of that cool night air.]

B.
[For the moment, he's ignoring the festivities, seated sideways and cross-legged on the bench of one of the long tables. He's got his jasper and jade amulet gripped between his hands, and he hunches over murmuring at it for a long few moments before eventually sighing and straightening.]

Not Aediion, then...

C.
[He's cautious, but eventually it seems like there's nothing to be done about the situation, at least right then, so he might as well settle in.

Seated at a table towards the side of the room, Dancer's started slowly and carefully picking at the food. It's only after a good ten minutes pass with none of the bitterness or unfocused feeling characteristic of turtleweed that he reaches for more, bumping hands with another "guest" going for the same platter.]

Sorry. Here. [Helpfully, he slides the platter closer and back away so the other can have a first go at it.]

a

[chilledout]

[Too energetic and too keen on figuring out his surroundings, Bobby doesn't consider the idea of boundaries when he sees someone escape onto the balcony. His eyes follow him for a number of reasons (reasons he's still adjusting to after his conversation with Jean), but mostly he convinces himself that he wants to head out there because he hadn't realized that there was a balcony at all.

Abandoning his current plate of too-much-food (and really, he couldn't finish all that anyway), Bobby makes his way toward the balcony, and after a few beats, the cool air out there becomes just a little bit cooler. He can't help it sometimes. That's just the presence he has.]

Oh, it really does look neat out there. I wonder if we should be looking for anything.

[Like ... landmarks. He leans over the railing quickly, bending over it dangerously just a bit too much.

Then he flashes the other guy a smile and waves at him.]

Hey, I'm new. And Bobby. Not New Bobby, though. Back home, "New Bobby" might be fitting for me, come to think of it. [As if there's a realization to be had there, he cants his head to the side thoughtfully.]

Yugo | Wakfu | Seelie probably

[yugo]

[A. THE FEAST]

[Yugo doesn't want to fight.

That's the first thing he thinks when he's briefed on the goings-on, and it's what he sticks by. He likes a good challenge, sure, but fighting? Like, all out war? He's seen so many people die because of the lust for power. Whether it's some world-jewel or the Eliacube, he knows it's trouble.

It weighs down on him, giving him a melancholy expression even as he chows down on the food. It's not as good as home.

He's pretty easy to miss amongst the tables, being as short as he is. It isn't long until one of the fairies gets curious and tries to tug on his hat-- which earns a round of batting and yelling.]

Hey, stop! No one gets to see what's under my hat!

[B. WHATEVER, WHEREVER]

[Feast taken care of, it's time to explore. One might see him climbing a tree, or popping in and out of little blue portals of his own creation as he uses them to get around. It's hard to get a hold of the kid.]

A.

[akisazame]

[Enter the amazing Guy...!

... with a half-eaten chicken bone, which he swats at the fairy in an effort to deter it. The pest tinkles angrily, dodging out of his reach.]

Shoo! Get out of here! [The fairy sticks out its tongue, sulking, but knows it can't beat two pairs of hands. As it flutters away, Guy gives a sigh and looks down at the kid.]

Yeesh, they're all over the place. You okay?

cloud strife | ffvii | seelie

[nibelheims]

I. FEAST

[ cloud has never been one to party. the massive court holding so many different people is more intimidating than anything, has cloud lingering off to the side somewhat as he tries to put all the pieces of this new puzzle together. easier said than done though, as he’s still not entirely sure what exactly it is that he’s supposed to do here, to fight for. he hadn’t signed up for this war, nor is he sure he really wants any part in it.

he’s fought enough already, hasn’t he?

before he can really get lost in the dark, deep corners of his mind though, someone comes offering a tray of drinks, to which he simply shakes his head, blond spikes swaying softly with the movement. ]

Not interested.

[ to think he’d fall for any of it.

all the same, the lingering continues, and eventually he moves around. the tables full of food get a brief glance — all of it appearing amazing, delicious — yet soon enough he’s moving towards what he hopes is some form of an exit.

fresh air, that’ll help him think. ]

II. STATION

[ the station seems a little more up his alley, even if cloud still appears less than pleased. either way, he moves around slowly, taking in the sights and sounds with caution, though anyone who offers a word or two will get acknowledged with either a nod or some brief bit of conversation from his end. better than whatever he'd managed back in the court full of feasting people and creatures of all kind, at least.

...despite having only been in this new world for the briefest moment, cloud realizes he already misses the easy escape offered by fenrir. it has him sighing some seconds later, inner thoughts of endless roads threatening to steal his attention again. it's better than facing the conflicting facts of his new predicament-- and how it's starting to look like there might not be a simple way out of it. ]

LEAPS ON

[colorofthesky]

[ Truthfully, Zack has never really be much of a party-goer himself. Even in SOLDIER, he was always too driven, too focused on his goal to be distracted by such things, and as things got progressively worse, he found more solace in a small, run-down church in the slums than anywhere else.

He comes, though. If for no other reason, he's curious to see the newcomers who have arrived here from other worlds. He holds onto the hope that he might see someone he knows, and discourages it in the same breath. For someone like him who knows he only lives now because of the faeries who picked him up and carried him here, it's not so bad. For his own friends, people he never expects to see again, he wouldn't wish them to be whisked away from Gaia to fight in a war worlds away when their own home has so many problems.

He gives up on the feast himself before too long, and he's in the process of pushing away from the table when he bumps into someone by accident. ]

Ah, sorr-

[ The words catch in his throat when he sees the other's face (his face, his eyes, he's awake?!), and for a moment, Zack (ironically, perhaps) believes he's seen a ghost. ]

Cloud?

the Corinthian | the Sandman | Unseelie

[13_12]

the feast

Entertainment, food, merriment — what more could one want? Well, that's a terribly dangerous question to ask.

This particular newcomer could want so much more, not that he'll give it away, at first. That's part of the long game of it all, it's no good to show teeth (however many sets of them) too early. And there is something to be said for the fact that there are things here that set even this creature of dreams (nightmares) on edge. Now, the Corinthian wouldn't consider himself a control freak, that was the kind of label for flighty, hysterical kind of people. No, he was simply. . . someone who preferred to be the one in control.

So, he smiles (just one set of teeth, thank you very much, the others tucked away behind dark glasses) — not too much, not too little. Disarming pleasantries are his bread and butter, or rather, the key to far more exciting interactions. Turns to the closest fellow, and asks: "Say, mind sharing what the celebration's for?"

the Station

Cigarettes, coffee, heck, could a guy get a mag too? Creature comforts aren't really much but they do set the scene. And, really, over the years the Corinthian's really learned to appreciate the little things. The way people relax with a warm drink in hand, or the way they open up to a stranger with a cigarette and a light. Really good stuff, all and all.

So, he'll get a cup, marvels on marvels and move to the patio.

"Lot fancier than the other place." A conversation thread thrown out to whoever's listening.

station;

[entitles]

"Fancier than the other place, yes," Balem said, glass of wine in hand that he took a slow sip from every now and then, "But still sorrowfully primitive, I think."

Primitive to a man who had gotten used to ships that could hop between galaxies in an instant, anyways. He was rather difficult to impress, in that sense.

Zero | Drakengard 3 | Unseelie

[tonedeath]

The Feast
[ What the fuck. What the fuck.

There's no mistaking the look on her face, it's very clearly: What the fuck. Perhaps, one could ignore the absolutely sour expression and focus on her more kind attributes. Like her pretty face, the magic-robot-like arm she has, the way she reaches across the table to take food off of your plate —

Wait, that's not very charming, is it.

Probably what's even less charming is if she notices you staring. ]

Hah?! Mind your own damn business before I dig out your eyes and make you eat them. [ She'll wiggle her fork suggestively at the end of that particularly charming statement. ]

The Station
[ They call it 'percussive therapy' wherein one strikes a machine that doesn't work repeatedly until it produces the desired effect. What is she beating on? Does it really matter? It had the poor luck of being unuseful to Zero at the given moment and felt the wrath of her fists. Some people might say she has very little patience, the truth of the matter is that she doesn't have any.

When she's done she'll toss it aside, without any care for anyone it might hit. ]

Fucking useless.

the feast

[ragnarock]

[ The robot arm didn't phase her, or open hostility, or even piss-poor table manners. Ange was an Arzenal girl, after all, and not above stabbing someone during a meal herself -- though only if that person had done something to deserve it. She cocked a brow and smirked. ]

Oh? Our hosts might have something to say about that.

Kelsier | Mistborn | Unseelie

[onlysurvivor]

01 - Outside Caer Scima

This isn't exactly how he thought things would play out and this certainly isn't where he thought he'd be after--

He burns Tin, enhanced senses pick up what he'd never thought he'd see. Green plants. The sun doesn't glow an angry red behind blackened clouds. There's even...

He crouches, bare-foot, by a solitary flower growing through the cracks in the cobblestone. He laughs while reverently touching the flower petals. There are other flowers near-by but it's this one that draws him more than the others. Maybe it's the fact it grows where it's not supposed to. He takes several minutes to memorize everything about it.

The only thing that breaks him from his little trance is being bumped into by travelers.

02 - Night of the Feast

Caer Scima resembles Kredik Shaw too closely for his comfort. He does not stay for the feast.

Instead, he decides to use up the metals already in his stomach. If even half of what he's heard is true, he'll need to make use of every scrap of allomantic metal. He won't waste them burning them off before sleep.

Besides, what better way to explore such a massive place than by Allomancy? In the courtyard, he drops a coin, burns Steel and shoots up into the air. He takes hold of an anchor on a tower and whips himself ever higher. All without even physically touching the building. He can be seen, bare-foot with the strips of his mistcloak flapping wildly behind him. What he's doing could be mistaken for flying... but it's actually more like controlled falling. He moves in an arch like an insane super-sized flea.

It occurs to him, while he's several stories up, that the local nobility may not take kindly to what he's doing. That thought is reason enough to smile.

If they had any idea, they would have never brought him here.

03 Make up your own!

1;

[zerotohiro]

It's not so much that Hiro bumps into him as it is that he practically trips over him. Luckily he manages to stay on his feet and at first his instinct is to yell at whoever for being right in his path. However, when he pauses and looks at what's going on he stops. In fact, he's just going to carefully move and crouch down on the other side of the flower just to see what's so interesting about it.

"Waiting for it to do a trick?" A pause. "Actually, that wouldn't even surprise me at this point."

Ciri | The Witcher 3 | Unseelie

[zireael]

1.
[ The halls are not unlike those of Vizima, decked out in splendor, food and gifts for new arrivals displayed in grandeur. The thought of her father makes Ciri sick, wondering again what he must be doing during Nilfgaard's occupation, what he might want with her one day. But she is here now, not in Temeria or Novigrad, not even in the halls of Kaer Morhen. She is a stranger again in a foreign land...and she, as always, is unafraid. This is not the first world she has jumped to; however, this is the first she has arrived in by force, small imps dragging at her boots and heels.

Her power won't let her leave this time. She has tried at least twice (the first after kicking one of the imps clear across the hall like a rag doll) to go back, all to no avail. She has given up for the moment in favor of sampling from the food like a starving dog, wolfing it down without much of a care. Not the most ladylike, sure, but she hasn't cared much about that in a long time.

But in the gardens later, under cover of nightfall, she tries again. Flickering in and out, blue-green light shimmering around her as she vanishes and reappears again, each time leaves her feeling more and more aggravated. Why now? Why?

She kicks a nearby bench, sending the stone toppling over, mostly unharmed. Hope you weren't passing by... ]


3.
[ She might not be a true witcher, but that has never stopped her from hunting down the more dangerous of monsters. A cockatrice trying to encroach on a nearby village in the Astar is her first pick to slay, and she finds the creature with ease. Killing it, however, is another story. Though badly injured, it manages to knock her clear off of her perch and its nest, a fall that could have killed her had she not the power to teleport.

Vanishing from one moment to the next, she still manages to drop into a heap on her rear at the bottom of the cliffside, safe and sound, pride wounded more than anything else. Ciri's grimace flickers into a small smirk as she gets to her feet, sword in hand and poised to strike as she hears the cockatrice shriek and take to the air--

Until she realizes the beast is charging and not at her...but at some other poor soul who's had the same idea as she. Eyes widening, she yells: ]

Look out!

3 - i apologize for this show off

[onlysurvivor]

[ Kelsier does indeed have the same idea as she does. Though he's considerably less experienced with this sort of monster he's more than willing to give it a shot. What's the worst that can happen?

Getting attacked, obviously. As soon as he hears the warning, he burns Pewter, drops a coin, then burns Steel; the end result is him preforming an inhuman leap out of the way of the cockatrice. He smiles in her direction after he's in the air. Yes, he does appreciate the warning. He lands, rather roughly, a few yards away.]

Are they always this hard to kill?

terry mcginnis (batman beyond) | unseelie

[schways]

station - batman

[the station is, apparently, the only place in the drabwurld where the tech in is suit works. it's an inconvenience which leaves him at a disadvantage; in the back of his head, he can hear Bruce chastising him. worse than that he can hear Dick. so he's no stealth, he's got no sensors and he can't fly the moment he leaves the stations range.

so he sticks around, gets some coffee and holes himself up at a computer to download as much info as he can get. around about his sixth mug, you might hear him mutter:] I am totally slagged.

[If you listen closer, you might hear him groan:] What would the old man do?

locket - batman

why is this happening to me

station

[uneulogized]

Shake his head in disappointment, probably, [Jason says, trying to sound casual, but from behind, it's obvious that that is someone dressed up as a Bat. The sight of it caught him off guard at first, but he refocuses. The voice doesn't sound like Bruce. His body language is nothing like Bruce. In fact, it's nothing like anyone he's met—but Jason knows he's been out of the loop for a while.

And maybe longer. What does he know?]

Assuming your old man is everyone's old man. [With a devil-may-care attitude, he moves behind Terry to press his hand on the desk, and he leans in close to him. Jason wishes he had his mask for occasions like this, but The Red Hood is all too associated with his battlefield antics. Being here in the Station wearing it wouldn't be good.

But he takes the risk, eyes dropping to the red bat on this guy's chest.] Ah, and looks like he is. Nice.

Guy Cecil | Tales of the Abyss | Seelie

[akisazame]

THE FEAST | A

[Some things never changed, war chief among them.

After keeping to himself for the first few minutes of the feast, Guy begins to mingle with the other shardbearers. Regardless of whether you want company or not, he's bringing you a drink. Ale, if you look old enough. Juice, if you're younger.]

You mind if I joined you? It's kinda boring to eat by yourself.

THE STATION

[Guy's managed to thoroughly gut a poor radio that just happened to be lying around. Its parts are strewn across the table's surface, arranged in a somewhat tidy fashion. Nuts and bolts go to one side. Batteries and other such parts he can't really identify? They're the focus of his endeavors, and he's so intently attuned to the task at hand that nothing can snap him out of his flow.

Well. Almost nothing, anyway.

As he's working he happens to elbow the cold cup of coffee he's got sitting beside him. It falls to the floor with a marvelous crash, mocha flying everywhere, and Guy snaps to attention, visibly startled.]

Wh--?

03. WILDCARD.

(hit me with your best shot, i'm up for anything! if you want to hash out anything specific, you can pm this journal or pp me at goatsong.)

the feast

[flashcraft]

[Dancer looks up from the plate he'd grudgingly started picking through, and gives the new guy a searching look for a moment before scooting over on the bench a little to clear more space.]

Go ahead.

[That's amicable enough. He isn't exactly touching the drink, though. Nothing personal, but the last time someone came over all friendly and bought him a drink, he woke up tied up and was nearly press-ganged into a southern prince's army.]

koriand'r (rhato) | (unseelIE ?? PROBABLY)

[fiamme]

wild card open map

[she doesn't stay in caer scima; the walls are tight and while her room is spacious and fit for a princess, it is not her room. it feels cramped and restrictive; she's already moody enough about being here without the eyes of Morla's spies on her.

so she leaves for open skies and wider planes. the drabwurld, she finds, is beautiful. wet at times, but beautiful. there are no beaches nor tropics like home, but there are lakes upon lakes and mountains nearly everywhere. she travels and stays in taverns. she travels further and finds herself at the station.

she travels close to where she's heard Unseelie territory ends and Seelie begins and she stops there. more out of respect, than fear. She's not an easy sight to miss; and as the days go by, she'll be more hospitable to speak with. ]

locket

i have been traveling for days and this world is very beautiful.
but i am looking for two people.

arsenal or red hood, it is starfire.

if not then ! hello, my name is koriand'r. how many of you were not soldiers before being conscripted?

video | private

[uneulogized]

Where are you?

[Screw text. Screw anything like that. Jason skips right ahead. The fact that he's being asked after means that he has to skip all the motions and screwing with her to get the information he needs.

The picture that the locket displays, still in all its glory, is Starfire. It's unusual that she's asking after him of all people, but that makes it all the more necessary to find her.

Of course, he looks different. Always a pretty boy (he's one of Bruce's, after all), his eyes glow a bright blue. Right now, he's wearing a shirt that reveals the scaling up his neck. He's changed here, though he still looks like a Jason Todd, all in all.]

fiona | tales from the borderlands | unseelie

[eyeballer]

(a. feast)

[Fiona is no soldier. She said it herself, over and over, to her sister and her mentor - she's no Vault Hunter. Maybe her aim's a little better now than it was, and sure, she does love excitement and treasure. But the big, planet-shattering fights? Keep her out of it, thanks.

Yet here she is, drafted against her will. Fiona leans against a wall, looking as relaxed as you please, nursing a cup of wine she has yet to take a drink from. No way will she trust what these people are serving. The part she's playing now requires she look like a normal partygoer, though, and it's weird not having a drink your hand when you're at a party. Blending in! And doing her best to pretend she's not on-guard, paranoid as hell.

So she gives the nearest person a lopsided smile, as if to say isn't this whole thing kinda funny? And inclines her head towards the food piled high on the table.]

You think they're always this generous?

(b. the station)

[What she wouldn't give to be able to show Sasha everything she's seen. This fight might even be worth it, if it could get them both off of the planet. Because honestly, no matter how messed up the circumstances are, this place is beautiful in a way Pandora just isn't, and somehow much safer. Fiona's confident enough that she's probably not going to be murdered at any given point (there's no price on her head here, not yet) that she's comfortable grabbing a cup of coffee and a quiet moment to think. That's novel enough.

Feet kicked up on the table, she's still taking in the scenery around her. Even with her years of conning it's still hard to keep the wonderment off her face.]

a!

[cockade]

They've always been, at least for celebration.

[The man she speaks with is tall and hooded, but he has no interest in the festivities either. Arno is an observer rather than a participant- he plays the game but refuses to take action unless there are dire consequences for lack of trying. He's neutral, as much as he can be, though that doesn't stop him from doing dumb things when the time comes for it.]

I don't think I've ever known the Unseelie court to anything halfway. [There may be a wry hint of amusement in his tone at that.]

roy harper (rhato) | unseelie

[showpony]

locket

2 things.
1) none of my tech works which is the worst possible scenario i could have come up with.
2) where do i poop?

feast

[his arrows don't work how they're supposed to, there are no indoor toilets and everything happens so much. fortunately, there's free food and Roy is eating heartily. when he's done eating his feelings he investigates; first the corridors, and then his room. after that he wanders the court yards, the castle grounds.

eventually he goes to the armory and relents to the fact that he's going to have to go old school with his arrows. he takes his cap off and heaves a sigh. ]

I better get a cool helmet out of this.

[selfimage]

You'd best be very specific on your definition of "cool," or you'll end up with an unfortunate slab of ice with a convenient eye-hole.

[ he says hotly.

Loki makes a snag for the cap, trying to fit it over the golden, horned diadem on his head. ]

elena gilbert ( tvd ) | unseelie

[reoccurs]

( FEAST )

[ Elena Gilbert has witnessed the impossible. she's been sacrificed to break an ancient curse, then brought back to life. she has laid eyes on vampires and werewolves. there is nothing in the world left for her to discover — she's surely seen it all. except, of course, she hasn't. it's an entirely new experience for her, being stuffed in a sack and dragged unceremoniously to the Drabwurld. and, you know, she wouldn't say it's an experience she wants to go through again.

despite treating her like an inanimate object, they claim she's precious. special. it's the kind of thing she's used to hearing as a Petrova doppelganger, the perfect sacrifice. she's getting tired of always having to be something and that something never being just Elena. still, she partakes in the festivities as much as she can in her current state. she eats a little, mingles a little. she gazes at people dancing, so carefree and effortless. for the most part, though, she just observes. it's an incredibly grand celebration, but perhaps that's what it's like for imps. she turns to face the nearest person and asks: ]

So, is it always big celebrations like this?

( CASTLE )

[ Elena wanders aimlessly through the castle halls, dazed and unsure of how to feel. none of it feels real yet; more like a strangely vivid dream. she's so caught up in her thoughts that if she happens to walk right into someone, well — it is what it is. ]

Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I— [ she fumbles over her words, flustered by the whole situation. ] Sorry. [ Elena points at herself, a sheepish smile on her face. ] I'm new here, so... still getting my bearings.

[ if they were ever in the same situation as her, she hopes they can understand. it's overwhelming, to say the least. ]

( WILDCARD )

[ pleeease feel free to do whatever you want! lockets, feast, station, idc! ]

Is feast okay? With one loser vampire?

[withbite]

[He'd seen her. Of course he'd seen her. But he also thought it was Katherine, here to bug the crap out of him like usual. Which made him broody. He'd climbed his way up to actually be semi-important here, yet knowing that Katherine was flitting around with her head still attached to her shoulders was a perpetual thorn in his side.

So he scowled. And brooded. And drank probably a bit too much. But he still stayed. Why? Because he knew the song and dance by now. This was new recruit time. If someone did happen to get dragged in from his home, he wanted to be here to get them. If they came here.

He'd lost track of Katherine, but then there she was beside him, talking to him. He opened his mouth to tell her to -- well, it wasn't for the delicate ears, but the words finally filtered through. Then he peered at her. Uncertain. Mouth in a thin line as he looked to see those differences.]

Elena?

[Katherine did dainty and damsel in distress if it could get her what she wanted, but she also knew better than to try that on him. He'd happily break her neck. And worse.

But Elena...]

Bitterblue | The Graceling Realm Series

[ashenscipher]

02: The Station - a Queen becomes acquainted with modern technology

The TV had been off when Bitterblue entered the room. The quiet, inert black-framed black “picture” – what a dull painting to put in a frame – did not draw from her more than a passing glance.

Until…

In a fit of frayed emotions, she dramatically threw herself on the sofa without looking. She needed someplace soft to express her frustration at being taken from her kingdom.

Soft yes, but not peaceful.

The black picture burst to life with color and sound, sending Bitterblue scrambling up and over the back of the sofa in an instant. A not so queenly shout may have followed her over.

“Who is there?” She tried asking, peeking over the edge of the furniture. But the answer she received was not anymore more coherent, to her, than the initial sound that came from by the frame. This was nothing she'd ever seen before. The tapestries in her castle back home could give the impression of movement, but not like this.

With a mix of trepidation and increasing wonder she watched the frame, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

[grandemalion]

Po doesn't go to the Station, not because the technology doesn't interest him but because it's difficult for him to interact with any of it given his... condition. Generally, he just stays away.

For the first time, he heads there with a purpose. The station is at the fringes of his range but it's enough to sense a familiar presence. He tries not to look too odd when he suddenly jumps on his horse and takes off to the Station. He doesn't bother hitching his horse when he gets there, he just jumps off and runs inside.

"Beetle!"

Carmilla Karnstein | Carmilla Web Series | Unseelie

[mircalla]

ＦＥＡＳＴ.

[ So there she were. Barely a moment ago she had been finally making peace with her life (and having that turned around immediately after) and now Carmilla was once again thrown way out of her element. Kicking imps in the face hadn't seem to do any good, so she had decided to move on to more fulfilling endeavors, such as downing as much wine as she can find. Her constitution doesn't allow her to get drunk easily, but Carmilla is so desperate to dull her rage that she's willing to step up to the challenge.

She could also just talk about what's bothering her (aka leaving certain incompetent but cute journalist in the making back home) but that would be too easy, not to mention it would involve actually trading words with the strangers that walk around the feast, whom she has been actively pretending were part of the furniture so far.

Still, she's kind of hogging the wine and looking like a particularly surly goth.

Engage Y/N?? ]

ＳＴＡＴＩＯＮ.

[ Carmilla can be found curled on top of a tree branch, or rather, she can't be found? The girl is wearing too much black and knows how to hide in the foliage, so at first you might think you're staring at a big, black cat chilling up there... and you wouldn't be completely wrong either way. ]

ＬＯＣＫＥＴ.

So.

Do we like vampires? Hate vampires? I've gathered that there might be opinions on the matter. Do let me know, cupcakes.

ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ.

[GIMME YOUR BEST SHOT]

[zerotohiro]

[So. Okay. While Carmilla's just drowning her sorrows (or rage, whichever) in wine Hiro's actually passing through the feast and getting a good look at the newest arrivals. It's what he had done during the last feast and it's something that he feels needs to continually be done. It's not that he assumes someone from home will arrive (and if they did, there's a very slim chance they'd be Unseelie in the first place.) No, it's more about gathering resources and seeing who the monarchs felt could help in their war efforts.

And honestly, unless Carmilla's battle plan is to finish a bottle of wine and start beating her enemies with the empty bottle, there's not a real effective plan in place.

He really shouldn't engage...but it's not like Hiro's very good at avoiding things he shouldn't do anyway.]

Would you like some dinner to go with your wine? [The comment's dry and he lifts an eyebrow, still observing her from across one of the tables.]

Itempas | Inheritance Trilogy | Seelie Seelier Seeliest

[suntsun]

01. feast adjacent

He lingered by a doorway, frowning slightly and weighted down by the odd, but not-unfamiliar, sense of being surrounded by others yet very alone. The hall was loud and full, the liquor flowed freely. An irritating setting to begin with, made even more exasperating by the being in an entirely unfamiliar world and entirely unfamiliar mortals. He knew that he’d have to speak to some of them sooner than later, that he’d have to become close to some of them eventually, that he would inevitably be involved with some significant undertaking with some of them. History had made that necessity clear. But necessity, and even inevitability, did not make the process of making acquaintances with strangers any more pleasant.

The inevitable could wait, at least until tomorrow morning.

He turned neatly, silently, and departed the hall with his usual straight-backed loftiness. But his nature demanded some degree of purposeful action, if he was going to justify postponing interaction with mortals. Acquisition of knowledge would do, to supplement the meager amount provided on arrival. His eyes flicked to the white marble and gold of the walls. This castle was an older style than Sky, but equally noisy about flaunting its own beauty. There would be a library, perhaps merged with a chapel, somewhere in a castle that put such high stock in its own refinement. Likely somewhere lofty, likely somewhere … He strode through the gold-white halls, navigating the unfamiliar hallways half by familiarity with other castles and half by hypothesis. It took longer than he had expected; this place was no Sky, but it was an impressive undertaking nonetheless. And the library was darker than he expected, the gold and marble giving way to darker and intricately inlaid floors. He sighed quietly, but the disappointment was brief. This darkness, at least, could be temporarily remedied.

“Look to the light,” murmured the once-again displaced god of light and order. He raised a hand, and began to shine.

02. cothromach, sunsoak markets

He paused in the entranceway of a shrine to the sun. It was tidy and clean, though smaller and less well-attended than a White Hall would have been in a trading post of this size. The local priest was in solemn conversation with a group of parishioners, while more supplicants prayed quietly throughout the shrine. He let the voices of those closest wash over him. Some concerns were unfamiliar – prayers about a dead king, about a lost mountain. Some were mundane enough to transcend universes – prayers for safe voyages, for good harvests, for peace, for good and quiet lives.

It was not a completely strange world, when it came to the ordinary people living in it.

But there was a boy near the entrance, significantly better dressed than most of the worshippers, and accompanied by a man with the stillness and quiet attentiveness of a professional servant. The boy, somewhat louder than the rest, was making a rather long-winded appeal for the sun’s illumination on the difficult work his tutor had set for him, and might the sun make figuring take less time for him, and perhaps shine on an easier way to memorize the facts about this battle and that war…

“You don’t need a star’s help for that,” Itempas admonished, a hint of irritation creeping into his quiet voice. The boy yelped, startled to have his self-serving prayers interrupted, and Itempas, with a sigh, stepped out of the shrine’s broken serenity and back into the chaotic flow of the market crowd. There was nothing in his nature about being kind in the face of misdirected supplication.

01 - seelies are the best

[wwjd]

The feasts are not so thrilling to Kirei, either. His own, not too long ago, wasn't fully enjoyed by him, and neither is this one today. There is a certain obligation of his to show his respect to High-Queen and welcome new arrivals to the Seelie Court into the folds, but Kirei finds this duty completed earlier rather than later; again, he is not one for feasts.

Those are for people who feel normal emotions in normal ways, like happiness.

The library calls to him if for no other reason than that he's been there before -- researching cures for the silver sickness -- and he's sure it's deserted during the ongoing celebrations. There is always a need for new knowledge. This is especially so when a god of the Drabwurld contacts you and bids you to seek it out. Kirei is standing quietly at some place or another, then, flipping through a sizable tome that should take quite the effort to heft up and yet he braces it in one hand, minding his own business. Another Seelie entering for the moment does not even earn more than a passing glance.

Until he speaks words astoundingly close to the Seelie motto and illuminates the room along with them. Yes, that would catch Kirei's attention.

He watches, almost dumbfounded, from the shelves.

Cousland | Dragon Age | Seelie

[escutcheon]

♜ ONE: PARTY HARDY

[ Straight from one war into another. No rest for the wicked, eh?

At least there's an impressive spread to dampen any grumblings from newcomers, and Grey Wardens are generally a practical bunch. Freebies first, complaining afterwards.
Priorities, you know. Very important.
Cousland naturally makes a beeline directly for the hors d'oeuvres (discreetly employing a well placed elbow here and there if necessary) to load up a plate and stick to a wall like glue somewhere a little less frantic. The sheer number of bodies - all strangers, none with familiar accents - puts her on edge more than she'd like to admit.

So, after taking the lion's share of what looks to be dainty Orlesian-style aperatif sandwiches and promptly hip-checking a particularly stubborn partygoer out of the way, Cousland takes refuge in a convenient little nook just off of the ballroom floor.

They'd best have more hearty fare if they expect to have a good time. If at least three people don't end up stinking drunk and missing a generous amount of their possessions (clothing and otherwise) at the end of the night, she certainly wouldn't call it a successful party by any means.

But hey. If the Seelie court wants to have a lackluster shindig, that's none of her business. ]

♜ TWO: THE STATION

[ She has no idea what coffee is, but after hearing so much about it and seeing so many people enjoying a cup during the day, Cousland's finally caved and got herself some.

After mimicking the preceding customer's order to at least sound like she knew what she was doing (straight up, no cream or sugar), she gets herself comfortably situated on the patio and takes her first sip.

...it's like licking a live coal and being force fed tree bark all in one disgusting package.

Oh Maker. She can practically hear individual taste buds dying a horrible scalding death even while sucking in a sharp, hissing breath through her teeth and abruptly setting the cup down on the nearest tabletop.

Gently pushing that cup a little further away with one finger just in case. Once was quite enough, thank you. Only beer and ice water from now on. ]

♜ THREE: WILDCARD

[ Choose your own adventure! ]

2

[latkje]

Is it that bad?

[ Says one of the customers standing in line. He has a kind face, hair in his eyes and hands in his pockets. ]

This is my first time here. [ And to tell the truth, the setting was more unfamiliar than most. Nash likes coffee, knows coffee, but doesn't know what wi-fi is, and isn't used to seeing so much glass and so much metal. But he is practiced at swallowing his discomfort, and he is trying to do that right now. ]

I haven't been here before. I don't want to waste my time.

garrett // thief // unseelie

[blackhand]

[a. feast. You'd think that the main point of a feast would be to take in the sights, to ask questions, get to know people. You'd think someone would be taking the time to get to know the place, find where everything is, even possibly get a map of the Drabwurld. Most people would find an odd comfort in others being in the same situation.

...Then again, Garrett isn't "most people."

The thief has no interest in the war, no interest in the ending of the worlds or the preserving of it. Instead, he stays towards the back of the celebration, mostly in the shadows, eyes looking for pockets to pick, and for certain objects to snatch from the castle rooms themselves. At times his right eye gives an aqua glow, a wisp of smoke curling outwards from it, before it dies again, and he moves on. He wanders the halls, keeps to himself, uses distractions to go into rooms, take what he finds valuable, and leaves. He's interesting enough with all his thief garb on, not to mention it's entirely all in black leather.

As for politics? Forget it. The Drabwurld can rot for all he cares. He's saved the world once, and once was enough.

b. wildcard. It's evening, and the sun has set a good hour or so earlier, inviting the moon to sit in the sky quietly. High above the main roads, Garrett moves back and forth, studying the landscape before him. Whether a forest or a town, it's definitely being scanned for potential people to rob, new heists to make, new adventures to steal the greatest treasures this world has to offer. Finding him shouldn't be difficult, provided you have a good pair of eyes and are familiar with people being above your head.

This is work, honestly. A job is a job. After all, he has to regain his title of Master Thief somehow, now doesn't he?]

a (OMG GARRETT LET ME LOVE YOU)

[grandemalion]

[To be perfectly honest, Po is only at the feast for the food. He doesn't like large gatherings. So he's just here to eat more than his weight in food and... abuse his Grace somewhat. It never hurts to ask a vague question to the right person.

Po stands out for two reasons: first, his mismatched eyes, second, gold. He wears gold rings on every finger as well as earrings. His mannerisms don't quite fit that of a rich person. In fact, he's hilariously poor in Drabwurld with only a few coins to his name.

Garrett may find Po in the halls more than once. More than could be coincidence but with unpredictability, such as already being in a hall he would have no idea Garrett would be headed to. This time, he actually says something in the thief's direction.] I'd avoid the ladies wing unless you're invited.

Angela (Aldrif Odinsdottir) | Marvel | Seelie?

[withoutprice]

The Feast

This visit has been, without doubt, the most frustrating kind of disappointment. Angela accepts that she has been brought here with cause, and there is something admirable in the Seelie Queen's resolve to find soldiers to fight her war. There is also a certain familiar grace—a balance—in the ideology which drives her.

But there is the matter of price.

Reputation, she hears tell of. And honor. Immaterial things. After being coaxed here so slyly, it is difficult not to feel she's been cheated. To offer her honor and reputation is an insult, and being dealt that, she has a difficult time imagining a price she might accept for her aid.

She will eat their food and drink their wine before she takes her leave though; it is the least they can offer for her inconvenience. She sits to the side, posture neutral, but the pair of ribbons that stream from her shoulders lash like the tails of annoyed cats.

Wherever

Angela makes for an imposing figure, tall, red haired, and glaring red-eyed murder as she stalks the forest path away from where she arrived and toward—well of that, she's not yet sure.

What may come, she supposes.

Whatever it is, she hopes it hold someone worthy of barter. She'll need money if she's to make her way. Or, failing that, someone ready for a fight.

1

[theincredibleherc]

The presence of a tall and imposing woman so clearly burdened by the night's revels is hard for the Prince of Power not to notice. And her demeanor? Her ribbons and obvious irritation? Are hardly a deterrent for Hercules. He takes a seat nearby, and after giving her a nod and taking a swig of his own wine, speaks.

"You seem displeased, good lady. Is the feast not to your liking?" There's a scoff in his words, a sarcastic quip in them, "Or is the situation troubling you?"