iterumrp | Arrival Mingle

Entry tags:

Arrival Mingle

Who: Everyone.
What: The Chosen return or arrival in the City.
When: July 1st.
Where: The Districts of the City.
Anything Else? Feel free to make your own arrivals, or throw an arrival starter here! The party is open to all. As a reminder, language barriers are not an issue in the Tower.

The City hadn't changed at all in its time without the chosen. If anything, The City seemed a little dusty. The Chosen would find themselves waking in their assigned homes. Even if they were returning and had other homes. They would wake in their chosen home. For the most part, anyway, a few chosen had special ways of arriving.

The assigned housing varied depending on the district they were assigned according to their sin. However, everyone had a box, a welcome package awaiting them upon waking. Inside the box was an extra invitation inviting them to the tower if they so decided to come visit upon arrival.

The city was once again bustling with life. Cars, demons, and the people of the City moving as if time had never stopped. Business as usual for the returning Chosen.

The Tower

While it was not Aiden's district, he had talked the Duchess into opening up the ballroom, and Skiffell to provide food, that just didn't seem to end. The grand ballroom was filled with many delectable dishes, and a small band of demons playing big band music in the corner.

The doors were propped open with the music drifting out to help lull the chosen who decided to attend. A handwritten poster board outside the open doors displaying 'Welcome Chosen!' with about 10 smiley faces drawn on it. While normally parties at the tower demanded fancy dress, Aiden throwing a party meant that rule would not be abided. He didn't dig out the fancy threads for anyone. This was a different kind of party, put together by the lord of Leisurebrook.

While Aiden didn't plan to reveal himself as a magistrate, he did love to mingle with people and hear their stories. So he was there. He was napping at a round table off in a corner, his messy brown hair spilled over his crossed arms as he napped as if he didn't have a care in the world.

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Dude had weirder cravings than a pregnant woman. But fine, whatever. Everything he grabbed, she picked up as well.

Not like it was for her.

"Time is...a whole different sort of fuckery," she said. "I mean, theoretically speaking, different universes could run on different timelines. I'm not exactly an expert, I just took an elective about it when I was in school." A pause. "And I read a lot of comic books."

Honestly, the comic books had taught her more.

Regulus stopped picking up food.

"What are you doing?" Rather direct for a man who'd been trying hard to be slippery with his answers before.

Both of her eyebrows shot up, underneath the plastic fringe of her wig. Obviously, he wasn't talking about her oh-so-sophisticated explanation of the multiverse and Einstein-Rosen bridges.

She set the plate down on the table, in front of him. "Doubling up your hoard," she replied. She flicked her fingers at the plate, as if to say 'have at it.'

Wasn't like she could eat any of this shit.

"You're..." And you can see that realization dawning on him. "Helping me?"

"Is...that a problem? Cause I can stop." She could also smash the fucking cake in his face, if he was going to be a pill about it.

...it was entirely possible that Sam had some anger issues.

And more than possible that she'd been spending too much time around vampires.

And Regulus had spent way too much time around his trust-destroying family.

"But... why?" he asked, with a searching look, as if he couldn't see the obvious: a nice gesture being extended to him.

She opened her mouth. Then shut it. If their roles were reversed, she'd be asking the same shit, wouldn't she? She'd be getting defensive and hissy like a cat. She'd be puffing herself up.

And why was she doing it?

Maybe there was some subconscious shit happening. Her defying everything that she was expected to be. And defying the damn poison in her DNA.

Or maybe Anne and Bob just raised her right. All Midwestern kindness. Even dead.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Seemed like the right thing to do?"

"Oh." And Regulus needs a moment to process that.

They'd just met, and this person already wanted to help him with what he was doing merely because it was the right thing to do?

Unsolicited kindness was more outside of his life's experiences than dealing with muggles.

"You don't... want anything from me for this?"

"What the hell would I want from you?" she asked. They'd just met. And if she had her way, she wouldn't be hanging around long. She had a life to return to, a world that she needed to be part of. And a brother who needed a swift kick in the ass. Possibly a punch to the face too.

She was working on that rage. Beginning to slowly grasp that maybe there was some love behind the bullshit he'd tried to pull with her.

But as for the here and now...

"Look, don't make it weird, I was just helping you steal some food."

But everything Regulus understood about life informed him that this was weird on its face.

Who was just... kind? To strangers?

And this was different from the last time he was in the City, it took him while after arriving to find someone willing to help him.

He had to chew over that before returning to picking over the table.

"It's not stealing. The invitation didn't say anything about a limit per guest."

If that was the way he wanted to make it un-weird, that was fine. Sam continued to copy his picks, although sometimes she took two when he took one or vice versa. Just to make it a little less freaky or whatever.

"I guess," she said. "Although normally, hosts expect food to be eaten at the event. Fortunately for you, my Bubbe used to travel everywhere she went with a purse lined with saran wrap, just in case there was extra food someone needed to take care of. I come from a line of experts."

Sam had never actually met her grandmother, but the woman loomed large in all of Bob's stories. It was almost like knowing her. Almost.

"I'm also eating," he said and popped the chocolate-cake-dipped olive in his mouth.

"And I plan to eat here, too."

He could suss out what 'Bubbe' meant but he didn't know what muggleness saran wrap was. He figured he could just ignore that and still put the picture together. Sam's grandmother smuggled food in her purse.

He paused for a moment, clearly working up the courage to ask something.

"Do you... know how to cook?"

"Oh, fuck no." She laughed. "Not unless it involves the words 'microwave' and 'burrito.' No, the only kind of cooking I do is in a lab." Chemistry was fun. Which meant she could actually kind of, sort of bake. But not well. And considering her all-liquid diet, she hadn't bothered to cultivate those skills beyond what was required for her various experiments.

The kitchen in her fancy new apartment? Right now, it was just for show. At least until she got a proper lab set up.

"How about you?"

Regulus was hoping for a different answer. And he somewhat downheartedly admits, "I was not allowed to learn how to cook." Something he admitted only because Sam seemed proud of her inability to cook and said it with such confidence that maybe made Regulus think he wasn't abnormal here.

And he assumed she must be alright with those pre-made meals you could get at the store.

"What makes it work in a lab?"

"Yeah, what I'm making in a lab definitely isn't edible. It's usually distilling solutions and the occasional bodily fluid. Same basic principals as cooking. You have instructions that you need to follow, step by step. The result is different thing. Purpose too."

She grabbed a few more olives for her plate. They smelled great. She used to love olives...

Tilting her head to one side, she looked up at him again. "Why weren't you allowed to cook?"

There was never any telling who would come back. Who she would see. Who would remember her, but there was no stopping the sharp spike of her heartrate at that voice. Those words. The memories it pulls up.

Devi turns around and gives an undignified yelp of surprise, followed by "Caius!!"

Rushing to set the plate down so she can literally launch herself at Caius, she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes tight. One of the three men she'd ever loved, things would never be really platonic between them. She was still figuring things out here, unsure if the man she married still remembered her, or wanted a relationship, but none of that did anything to diminish her feelings.

"Oh my god it's so good to see you," she breathes out. "Are you okay? I've missed you."

She wasn't normally this affectionate openly but it had been ages and ages and she wasn't going to let the opportunity pass up, hand settling on his cheek so she could pull back and plant a kiss on his closer cheek. Sorry not sorry. But her eyes were hungry for information to ease her subtle worry and danced over his face like she could assess it without his answer.

"... You make potions?" Solutions, bodily fluids, what else could she be making?

"It was the House elves' job to cook and clean. And my mother wouldn't hear of me doing their work."

She shrugged one shoulder at the idea of potions. Before her untimely death, she would have scoffed at the term. Now, though? It wasn't exactly precise, but it wasn't exactly wrong either. A lot of what the dragons did was somewhere between science and alchemy. Maybe they did brew potions. All about your point of view.

Again, though, her eyebrows were lost in the fringe of her wig. "What's a house elf?" she asked.

Suddenly, she had the mental image of Orlando Bloom, in his full LOTR glory, wearing her father's 'kiss the cook' apron, holding a turkey baster.

Devi looks over and flashes a grin at Anakin.

"You could fix that, you know. We got people that cook here. Please know that I'm not one of them. I live off boiled noodles in the best of times. God I've missed pastries. What do you think of the party?"

"Oh yeah, of course. After all-" She leans back to look around Peter. "-New faces. New chances though."

She straightens again. "Glad to hear it. My art studio survived too; I'm actually impressed. It remembers us. Almost sweet."

"What's wrong with boiled noodles? There's so much variety. Cheesy noodles are my favorite."

Anakin looked around, taking it all in.

"I feel like I shouldn't trust it... and yet, I am going to eat as much as possible. What do you think?"

"Oh snap. That's where I got slotted too. Guess we're greedy or somethin'. You think it's talking about your appetite with that?"

She was teasing, she swears.

Now Regulus assumed Sam could do magic and make magical potions.

"They are magical creatures that cook and clean for humans. My family owns a bunch of them." A look crossed Regulus' face as he explained it, a conflicted look. He didn't like the way House elves were treated.

"Oh nothing at all but an endless amount of them and no cheese to speak of.." She gestures. "Hell, obviously. Fifteen cent ramen is the echo of a ghost of real ramen; it's offensive."

But he'd asked a question. "It's fine. They wouldn't do anything to it or us right out of the gate. It'd be bad for business if we start getting suspicious."

"Owns," she repeated, a cautious look on her face. That was a tricky word. A complicated word. And, if she was being perfectly honest, kind of a dirty word. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, though. House Elves might not be...people. Maybe they were like Roombas or something?

Except Roombas didn't cook.

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Arrival Mingle

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