Waking the Dead 2.0 || August 9, 2063 || Tuesday

[kalikat]

[Dinner is served late in the mess hall because it's a grand banquet in honor of the Magistrate of Kibo. It's a pretty modest celebration, all things considered: the people at Kibo are invited, along with her family, any Searing Wind members who feel like dropping in from wherever they've been as of late, and a few friends among the other Keepers of the Vigil. That's about it.

Still, Kalika looks like she's having fun. Her husband and her children are, of course, all in attendance, together with her husband's familiars and the entire division of the Strays from Seigi. The food, mind you, is excellent, and there is more than enough booze.

You're welcome to come and go as you please. Kalika's easy like that.]


OOC Notes:
+ Will have some threads for NPCs of note, but just to give you a general idea: many members of the three blades are in attendance, along with pretty much anyone whom Kalika views as family. If you want to request for somebody, lemme know!
+ Debby and Noey: feel free to put your NPCs in here. =w=
+ Feel free to start your own threads too. Just specify if it's open to all, or if you're going to thread something out with a particular PC.

Comments

[bladeweaver]

[After doing the rounds with the people he wanted to talk to, he finally plops beside his girl, like a homing pigeon having delivered all pertinent messages and now returning to base.

He notes the amount of alcohol she has probably had and laments the fact that she is probably still not even close to tipsy. Life mage, go figure.]

Hi babe. Having fun?

[numinary]

Of course. There is good food, good drinks, and good company.

[Then she's remembering something that amuses her.]

Bostova reminded me about a matter of great importance.

[bladeweaver]

[Dear Elaine, why are they friends again? It's like a tornado meets a volcano with these two (and yes, he borrowed that line from some old-timey rapper named Eminem. He likes the classics, this one).]

And what did my no-longer-very-dour blademate remind you of, dear?

[numinary]

That I owe the lot of you drinks since you found Inquisitor Vice first.

[Sigh. You win some, you lose some.]

[bladeweaver]

[After a quick gloating smile, he leans in and gives you a kiss. Hopefully that takes the edge off losing.]

It's alright, breaks of the game, babe. Watch out for the Russian and the Promethean. For the exact same reason.

[numinary]

Well, there were no stipulations on whether I owed your blade one entire night of drinking or just a round.

[Fuck yeah, lawyered! This is what her administrative know-how does for her.]

[bladeweaver]

[... Dammit, you got him.]

That... is true. Feh, I suppose one round is enough, by which I mean they'll appreciate the gesture and proceed to get themselves thoroughly drunk anyway.

[You know they would.]

[numinary]

Will they? Some of them seem a little too careful with their liquor.

[Unlike you and Yulia. She doesn't Brigade: he can't get drunk anyway.]

[bladeweaver]

[She has a Point. That means, enlist her in the addressing of her Point.]

They'll let loose for you, I think. They wouldn't, for me, because they would rightly believe I would troll them. But if it came from you...

[That's right, love, I am enlisting you in a troll campaign. You in?]

[numinary]

[She is giving you a look of No.

Yep.

Just that.]

[bladeweaver]

[Man, work with me here!

He'll try to outline his rationale. His trolling always did have rationale, after all...]

They kinda need to let loose, you know? Kaz did a Jesus, Josh is having relationship trouble...

[Like... get where this is going, right?

Right awesome job of outlining your rationale, Taning.]

[numinary]

And you think that alcohol will help them, at this point?

[She's been watching them, love. Booze ain't gonna do shit for them.]

[bladeweaver]

[That gets him thinking...]

Not so much the alcohol as the social dynamic that occurs when people drink together, really...

[Yep. He just got academic at you, and he didn't even notice. You'd know that that's a bit of a worry tell by now.]

[numinary]

[Yes, she can.

Leaning in, putting a hand on your arm.]

Did something happen?

[Her tone, though, will tell you that she actually doesn't have to know if you don't think that she should.]

[bladeweaver]

[He'll tell her, because relationships are a two-way street and he believes in at least one completely open line of communication. Like he must have mentioned before: being a Mortician means a life of secrets and misdirection. He needs her to be his touchstone to honesty and transparency.]

Josh is being difficult.

[numinary]

[Ah.]

He does not look like the type to be difficult without a reason. Would you know why?

[bladeweaver]

I am not certain, although I do believe it involves Hikaru. And I worry. Maybe too much.

[That's a concession he's only voicing now, though.]

[numinary]

Ah.

[Hum.]

So he wasn't able to tell you, or he didn't want to?

[bladeweaver]

He didn't want to, I believe. Which I understand. I am very often the bearer of contrarian advice, after all. It can get tiring, especially after a while.

[He's always been objective, this one. But it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.]

[numinary]

[Now she's going to press closer to you, and offer what comfort she can by simply being around and within reach.]

Yes, it can be.

[She was the leader of an entire chapter of Arrows, and many of them were people she truly viewed as her own. "Difficult" doesn't even begin to describe it.]

[bladeweaver]

[He'll take that. He puts an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer. By Elaine, but it feels good to have someone who understands.]

How did you manage? You ran a tight ship; I imagine you earned your spurs the hard way. And I'm sure you used them. You being you.

[A small, affectionate squeeze of your shoulder, at that. It's a compliment, honestly.]

[numinary]

Honestly, it is less about becoming colder, and more about finding your own way of getting used to it without becoming too cold.

[A leader ultimately needed to be human. To lose compassion for others was to fail at the most basic of one's responsibilities.]

You never really get better at it. You simply get better at picking yourself up afterward.