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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Maybe the messy brunette stands out for napping at a table. Or maybe he blends in with his general don't care appearance. Either way, Aiden can be found either napping at the table, leaning against a wall, or walking around with a little tray of multiple cheeses piled up.

He's not trying to put off an unwelcoming vibe. Hell, the Magistrate seems pretty chill. Even when he was trying to not stand out. Aidan had wanted to study the chosen who arrived and see if they were cool, and to try to hide who he was for as long as possible. Even if that wouldn't be long.

Devi had said she'd come to the first party they threw and she wasn't the kind of woman who lied. Even if there had been a black tie dress requirement, Devi would have ignored it in favor of her black cargo pants, big black boots paired with a purple croptop with a long sleeved black mesh overshirt and dangling upside down cross earrings.

Dressing up indicated that she cared and frankly, she didn't.

But before hassling the Magistrate, Devi perused the food, the plate in her hand constantly emptying into her mouth, one piece at a time, as she fills those empty spots back up with bits from the spread. It was an odd contrast to the hundred and twenty pounds of a rail that she was. She still had curve, but she was a slender sort of woman at 5'9 in her boots. Any person that ambles up to her will get the same general question.

"Did you try the cannolis down there? Fucking amazing. Fuck I've missed food like this."

Nine times out of ten, Lorna knows how and why she's been tossed to another time or place. There's the occasional whoopsie, though, because Shit Happens on superhero teams back home.

And now she's showing up to a party in fairly casual dress, because frankly she can barely be bothered to dress up nice for the Hellfire Galas back home. She's in a black crop top, grey skinny jeans with aesthetic holes in them, and black flat shoes. Her green hair is pulled up in a messy bun that looks less aesthetic messy and more 'I could barely find a hairtie so this is as good as you get'.

Her opening comment upon arrival, should anyone be near enough to overhear her is: "Oh, those smiley faces are creepy. Right?"

Otherwise? She mingles, she usually has a drink in hand.

Leon looks like he's accidentally happened across the party on his way back to his apartment and he's standing by the sign as Lorna passes. He's definitely not dressed for a party, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans.

"Yeah, they are. I don't even like the whole 'Chosen' thing. Sounds culty," He says, making a face.

"I'm guessing you're one of those? 'A Chosen'? Someone from outside the City, let's go with that."

Damien's a little better dressed, though what he's wearing probably isn't where her attention goes first -- well, mostly. The thing most people notice about him first is the limp he walks with or the leg brace that runs the length of his left leg from mid-thigh to ankle.

Regardless of whether or not that's the first thing she notices, however, Damien glances over at her, frowning. "What kind of food were you stuck with before?"

His first thought is prison food.

Who needs to be dressed for a party? Not them, that's who.

“Oh, it's definitely some cult shit, and I would bet money on that. But yeah, I'm not from here at all; a version of earth that's way more than just one city - though, multiverse travelling is pretty common. You?”

Anyone here who remembers Sara (she's dressed up a little bit, even put a little curl in her naturally-straight, long blonde hair) from before they all lost a few months and have shown back (?) up here shouldn't be thrown off by the way she embodies energy, social butterfly, and a complete lack of shame and a sometimes lack of filter.

For everyone else? Buckle up. You're about to learn the Sara Lance Experience.

If you're wallflower-ing, she approaches with a smile and purpose, and greets with a: “The wall is overrated.” and pulls you into a dance. Doesn't matter if she knows you or not, this is your life now.

When she swings by the snacks table every so often, any unfamiliar faces (including faces that are familiar, but don't show any signs of recognizing her) also there get a question of: “Are you completely new here, or did we show up at different times?” It's easy to not cross paths in a place like this. Just as easy as it is to.

As the night goes on, she eventually gets tired of the routine and decides to spice things up in her own way. And, for the record, she's not even drunk. But she does find a table not being used as one to hold snacks or drinks, and not many plates or cups on it, and just hops on up on it and starts dancing there. If you're sitting at this table, expect to be encouraged to join her.

The leg brace was far more eye-catching than the limp was but Devi took it all in a single glance up and down the man, focused not on his brace but more the Sense of Self she could garner from how he was put together.

"Oh, shitty ramen and cola. It's the only thing I ever used to stock my apartment with, starving artist Devi D, nice to meet you - and when I get stuck there, there's no options for changin' it up. Food's always better when someone else is cooking it anyway." And there weren't Other People in the nebulous before.

Yes, she expected a little confusion in return at the answer.

The leg's a sore spot to be sure -- he's glad she didn't ask.

He doesn't plan on giving her the opportunity to, either, or at least not right now. Instead, as expected, his eyebrows raise in response to all of that. "'When you got stuck there'?"

Please elaborate.

She had made the mistake of popping something in her mouth after she'd finished talking and now had to lift a few fingers in silent ask to wait as she cleared her mouth, pressing them against her lips as she does so.

"It would be terribly rude of me to go throwing you into that particular deep end without knowing what you've experienced in the greater wide worlds. Graspin' reality is a bitch, honestly." It wasn't a complicated answer, only a high level kind of perspective at realties in general and the understanding of how some of them intersect. Devi had lost her mind once or twice over trying to understand it over the years, so she was careful about being too blunt with the topic with people she didn't know.

"I'm glad they didn't make us wear nametags this time but maybe I can see why they used to. This your first time Travelin', Mr...?"

Damien waits, glancing to where the food is as he debates grabbing a plate, himself. He gives up on the notion, if only for the time being, as she continues, his eyebrows resuming their previously arched, curious position. They immediately lower a second later -- clearly he doesn't appreciate the insinuation that he may not be able to understand multiverse theory.

(If Lust wasn't his sin, Pride sure would be.)

"Brenks," he answers a little shortly, that in mind. "And this isn't my first rodeo, no. I spent the last nine months or so living in a fledgling pocket dimension."

Give or take. Time had been strange in the Void. It had taken it some amount of it to figure out how it worked in the first place.

Her eyebrows lift, nodding faintly in approval, utterly ignoring the change in his expression otherwise.

"You'd be surprised how many people are fresh off their proverbial boat. Good to know. Next question-" Yes, there was a list, in order of contextual priority. "-And this one is kinda the-" Her free hand spreads. The Big One. "-Did you come straight from there to here? Or do you find yourself in a.. waiting waystation kind of situation."

To his credit, he relaxes again fairly quickly.

"I was there; I woke up here." No waiting waystation involved. Since she mentions one, though, the logical leap in this case is, "I'm going to guess you got the whole cosmic waiting room experience?"

"Yes and no. Yes in the overall idea, no in the waiting room experience - I go back to one particular place; Integra Arms Hotel, Twisted Street. And with no one to piggyback out of the world on, I get stuck there until I'm ferried away to another sublime and weird ass experience."

She didn't begrudge it all, even if it left her alone with herself and Sickness for months and years on end at a time.

"Like my home reality was broken somewhere along its way, scattered across the multiverse." She shrugs and pops a grape into her mouth. "So - shit food."

The new Saiyan in town was not used to dressing up for any party. So the Saiyan showed up in his normal gear, bloodily headband, scouter and Saiyan armor and all.

Bardock wasn’t really a party person but he’d show up for the food at least.

The woman Bardock met earlier was here after all. A grin moved across the Saiyan’s face and he looked up at Devi “The cannolis? So those were what I was stuffing my face with earlier?”

The Saiyan had a hint of cream left on his face.

Her offhand comment about their only being this city and nothing else catches him offguard. It's something he hadn't realized, or considered. Why would he?

"Wait. What do you mean just one city? Like... we can't leave or there's nothing else beyond this place?" He's getting to the point where nothing will really surprise him about this place. The whole thing is bizarre.

"Huh. You're not the first person I've spoken to who mentioned multiple universes. Can't say I ever thought that kind of thing was real. I'm also from... an Earth, I guess. Feels weird to say it that way."

arrival ((feel free to use this to continue any tdm threads if you wanna))
[This isn't the first time Clint's come to somewhere new, and he knows it won't be the last. He's just never been this welcomed as a kidnapee. He can even leave the apartment, and the building! So that's weird. And beyond suspect.

He'd prefer not to paint a target on his back, though, and tries to blend in. Asks subtle questions here and there. Picks up a paper (and doesn't buy it, puts it back) to flip through the local news. Gets a feel for the landscape he's found himself in, retractable sword tucked into one jacket pocket, throwing knife so kindly gifted in his box o' goodies in another pocket. Takes in geography, street names, major landmarks, trying to place where this is, and failing spectacularly.

Things that are going to happen, several times: Clint will find the edge of the city, and go beyond it into the fog, only to find himself frustrated and confused and right back where he came from, even though he swears he never once turned around; and Clint will be making his way across rooftops around the city, getting a better vantage point of it all (and potentially getting the idea to scale the Tower at some point).]

tower
[If he's been invited to some kind of official shindig, he thinks it's a trap, and of course he's going. And he's kind of relieved that he's just in casual clothes when he shows up, because...uh...]

Seen better parties out of a suburban garage. [Unimpressed, needless to say.] Not exactly rolling out the red carpet and introducing the welcoming committee, huh?

[He will eat and drink nothing, but he'll take a drink to look like he's participating. While trying to keep an eye out for anyone who looks Important to make note of/stalk/keep tabs on later.]

“Trying to leave has been an absolute bust, so yeah. This is all we get, apparently.” She makes a face. Lucky them.

“The multiverse can be a bitch and a half, so you might be better off not having had the chance to be flung through time and space like that, honestly. Most of the time I feel like that meme of the guy in front of a board with red strings all over it and looks like he hasn't slept in days and is living on caffeine or possibly MDMA.” A short pause, then: “What's your earth like?”

While Michael had arrived in his 70's style suit, he had quickly realized this was not his earth, and not his universe. So when he saw the invite, and the hunger was starting to make him ache, he finally chose to change into an outfit waiting in the closet that fit him well enough. His long hair hanging loose, and a pair of sunglasses on to hide his red glowing eyes. The simple black suit pants, tucked into his boots and button up shirt looked fine enough, but that white shirt did no favors to his paper white skin, and long black nails.

When he arrived at the party, he stayed off by himself a few moments, at least until the pain started to get too much. On one of the tables, something caught his attention that he didn't expect. Lifting it he looked confused. Despite the name, as he shifted the bottle he could see the thickness and the ingredients simply read '100% natural human blood substitute.' No way.

What was this world? The bottle carried over to an empty table as a worker showed up with a glass and ice. Which just made Michael make a face, but, why not try. Shaking it up and pouring it over the ice. He usually hated cold blood, but this was actually better cold and tasted less raw. What the actual hell? The pain was easing as he worked on his drink. Quietly watching people, as the bottle was spirited away.

[ ooc; feel free to carry over TDM threads, or start a new one with him before or after his drink! ]

Edited 2023-07-02 19:45 (UTC)

[ Lorna's multiversal passport is so full she's almost lost track of when and where she's been. Almost. But she is also exploring this place, and finds a decent enough cup of coffee from a café, which she takes up to a rooftop.

She can user her mutant ability (magnetism/metal manipulation) to fly, so that's how she gets up there. When she lands, she sees she's not the only one with the idea, as someone else with their back to her is also up there. She can sense the metals on him. ]

Do you always carry an armory on you on rooftops?

[ She asks casually, as she takes a sip of her coffee. She figures it's a heck of a conversation starter. If he turns around, the first thing he'll probably notice is her long green hair, including eyebrows and lashes. Yes, it's naturally that color. Otherwise her outfit is mostly simple: long sleeved white shirt, jeans, knee high black boots with a thick heel. ]

"One of the people in charge - what do they call themselves here? Magisters? - she said we were here to complete some purpose. Again, I feel like they'd benefit from less culty language. But if we do whatever the City brought us here to do, then we get sent home. Have you heard anything about that?"

Sorry, party or not, he's not about to pass up the opportunity to gather as much information as he can.

"You feel like what?" He's completely lost, "A 'meme'?"

He shakes his head, not following.

"What's my earth like," He echoes, finding the question overwhelming at best, "I guess... okay, it's not super different than this city. Uh, there are cities that kind of look like this. New York, LA, DC. The technology seems pretty similar."

He's going to leave out the viruses, bio organic weapons, and zombies for now.

"What about you?"

Leon hadn't planned to go to this party. In fact, he hadn't even known about it. But he lived in the district and had passed by the entrance on his way home. He wasn't turned away despite being dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, so he figured he'd get a free drink or two out of the deal and see if he couldn't make a few more contacts with his fellow newcomers.

He's just finished his second beer when Sara approaches him, pulling him toward the dance floor.

"Oh. No. No, I can't dance," He doesn't exactly resist but once she's pulled him out onto the dance floor, he just sort of stands there awkwardly, a faint flush coloring his neck and cheeks.

One of the new arrivals was attempting to wallflower, just at a table. A glass in hand that was a very dark red color, but not too strange. He had on sunglasses and a simple white button up and pants. His boots hidden by the table. He was as pale as the shirt he wore.

When she spoke he looked up confused. "Only sometimes!" It was all he managed to get out in his Grecian accent before he let himself be pulled to the dance floor. A little awkward at first, for sure, but after a few moments he loosened up some, to dance with her. Careful to keep his claw like black nails from catching or cutting her.

“You do now.” She teases slightly, leading them into a dance with the music. “Fake It Til You Make It is a great philosophy, for the record. And I would know, because I've never permanently died.” Is she suggesting she's died multiple times and has come back each time? Yes. Yes she is.

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Arrival Mingle

NPC - Aiden Knight - OTA

Devi D \ OTA

Lorna Dane — open

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Sara Lance — OPEN

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Bardock/ OTA

Re: Devi D \ OTA

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Michael Morbius - Mingle - OTA

arrival

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Had to go with this one

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