sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Harvest Feast 🍂

[MINGLE] Harvest Feast 🍂

WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: 10 November, all day
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE POST
NOTE: Details can be found here.

In the wee hours of November 10th, before even the earliest risers have roused themselves for another day, items begin to appear in the front room of the Inn. Decorations first — Boughs of autumn leaves in their reds and golds, wreaths of dried flowers and silken ribbon, flickering candles among the goards and berries and acorns. The food arrives next, the decadent aroma slipping up the Inn stairs to tempt those lingering in bed — Every imaginable harvest time delicacy, from roast turkey and ham to smoked salmon and oysters; fresh, soft bread warm from the oven to plum pudding and ice cream. And did we mention pie?

Once again, it's time for a feast. The bar is stocked, the coffee is brewed and the tables are groaning with food. Indulge, there's more than enough for everyone — That is, if you don't lose your appetite worrying about what it will all cost.

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Silence lingers between them and Bela is fine with that; they don't really know each other well and drinking seems to be more on the cards right now. Speaking of which she lifts up the bottle and pours herself another shot of vodka, placing the bottle back in the same spot when she's done.

The shot goes untouched, her gaze flitting around the room to watch the other villagers having their fill of food and drink. For a moment, everything seems completely normal to Bela. She doesn't have to be afraid of what was to come.

Kira's question interrupts her thoughts as she turns to look at him. "I was wet." It's a joke. "But in all seriousness, I didn't feel any different. I didn't look any different." There's a pause. "Why do you ask?"

Can he ask and not answer? What would it matter, his hair hasn't grown in near enough to hide the hook of a scab on his head, if it ever actually does. What a fucking turn the last few months have been: he didn't die in the evacuation like he'd more or less planned for ten fucking years. He didn't die in the quarantine, he didn't die from a touch of pneumonia, and he didn't die from a bullet to the head.

Maybe he doesn't need his powers at all, maybe they were hit or miss as it was. Now he has to live, and live here, and have some permanent mark like an ugly vein on the side of his head. Why keep him alive if he wasn't going to stay pretty?

"This," he sighs, turning his head to the right and gesturing at the red and brown line. "Last I remember, it was barely stitched. Then I roll out of the water and it's fine."

She doesn't know what Kira is going to do or say next so Bela picks up her shot and drinks it in one go, enjoying the burn as it goes down her throat. Already, she's feeling a little fuzzy from the alcohol but it's a pleasant buzz, one that Bela doesn't want to end too quickly.

Her gaze falls on the mark on his head when he turns, staring at it for a short while. What the hell had happened to him is the first question that springs to mind, though she doesn't ask him that. Not yet anyway.

"Maybe the water has healing properties?" It sounds ludicrous but given where they were, it mightn't be that much of a stretch. "Somehow, we were taken from our homes without knowing how so magic healing water is a possibility." As she speaks Bela tops up her glass. "Have you asked anyone else about it?"

"Maybe," he agrees, slow and half-hearted. Dubious is his default setting, especially when talking about this place. Every search for answers leads either to people who are too new to really know, or people who have been here long enough to hem and haw about still not knowing. Mark certainly has his theories, but his feelings on the man are about as mixed as the place.

This person is at least appreciating some kind of antique bottle of vodka with him.

"I'm taking a bit of a survey," he admits, consoling himself with another pour from the bottle. "Some people claim to have been dead, which is a little - how do you really know? I imagine they were just very badly hurt."

People coming back from the dead was not out of the realm of possibility in Bela's world. Those who wielded a great amount of power could bring someone back, and there was always making a deal with a demon - something that she wouldn't recommend to anyone.

"You can't really know." Bela replies, shrugging her shoulders. "All you can do is take them at their word and draw whatever conclusion you want from it." Choose to believe them or not. Bela didn't care that much about it to be concerned.

"Maybe we're all dead and this is some kind of weird purgatory."

She's right: however much he used to think he could and did know things, this place has thrown it well for a loop. Surviving to wind up here had thrown it for a loop. "I've heard that one, yeah," he agrees, tossing his fresh pour back and letting it sit with the others.

Under this table doesn't seem like the worst place to wind up, considering, but he still reaches for a drumstick instead of the bottle, after that.

"If this is purgatory, at least food still tastes amazing when you're getting drunk," he sighs.

"The food is definitely one of the highlights for me." The vodka even more so - Bela might try to swipe a bottle for another time. "And I suppose the company isn't completely terrible."

He wasn't an idiot and he shared his vodka with her so those were two things that Kira had going for him.

"Off-topic, but I'm still trying to figure out a way to contribute to things around here. Be a team player or whatever. Any ideas?"

That blusters a laugh out of him, a see-sawing thing that barely gets any momentum before he's smothering it with food. Not drunk yet, but starting to get that feeling where objects are just a little bit to the left of where he thinks they should be--the perfect time to eat whatever it takes to survive the bottle.

Half the bottle, whatever.

"You're already being a team player," he says, tilting the bottle with one finger before letting it rattle back into place. "As far as I can tell though, unless you're up for hunting and gathering this winter, the thing to do is take a shift at the fountain." Apparently he'd signed himself up for that in his past life, and he's starting to wonder if it would really be the worst deal: at least nobody coming through would expect him to remember who they are.

Those earlier feelings of fuzziness are steadily growing stronger so Bela quickly puts some food on her plate, not really caring what it was. She also follows that up with pouring out another shot of vodka, though not touching it yet.

"See, I'm not opposed to some gathering over the winter," she replies, scooping up some mashed potato from her plate and eating it slowly (it was good, okay?) before addressing the second part of his statement. "But a shift at the fountain doesn't sound too difficult, provided I wrap up warm and have some kind of spiel to deliver to new people."

Bela reaches for her shot, then stops mid-reach. "Hopefully I wouldn't encounter anyone too hostile."

"Well, let me know if you do, I'll come along. Two against one, and all." It wouldn't surprise him if anyone came out of the fountain ready to take it out on someone--the cold would probably do most of the work of keeping them in line. "We can practice building fires or something, roleplay our little speeches to each other."

The idea of explaining something he understood so little about had him eyeing his own glass, though he opted to fill the anxious void with food instead.

"Speaking from experience, come with me if you don't want to freeze to death works alright. It certainly re-prioritizes things."

Having someone else around whilst she was on shift at the fountain may not be such a terrible idea. Until she felt comfortable enough to do it by herself. Kira's suggestion was certainly something for Bela to consider. "Sounds like a good plan. I'll let you know."

Now she reaches for her shot and down it in one, wrinkling her face afterwards. Still as strong as the last few shots. Her food goes untouched for the moment.

"That line actually works?" Bela asks, remembering how reluctant she was to go with Margaery at first to the village. In fact, it took a while before she was actually convinced to leave the area around the fountain. "Surely, one ought to lead in with something else first, then follow up with that line."

Bela switches her attention to the food for a brief moment, spearing a bit of ham onto her fork before hastily eating it.

"Have you not seen the Terminator franchise," he asks, then wishes he hadn't--it's entirely possible that a lot of people here haven't, some of them don't even know what movies are. That's weirdly depressing, and he doesn't want to expose the gaps right now. He just wants to enjoy a drink with someone who seems to be treading the same water that he is.

"Like I said--personal experience. It worked on me." If Mark had said anything else, it didn't stick. He'd been too cold and too confused. "I came through with snow on the ground, my priorities were pretty set."

The look she gives to him should be enough of an answer. Bela's film tastes fell under the classic horror category.

"My experience was different to yours. It took some back and forth before I finally decided to go along with Margaery." Being the stubborn person that she was. "Even then, I didn't trust her. I couldn't tell if she was leading me to safety or more danger."

Reaching for her shot she knocks it back.

"I think the debate is still open on that."

"We can poll people as they come through," he says with a snort, finally refilling and tipping back his glass one more time. "Anyway, now that the speeches are out of the way, which of us did you find more trustworthy? Like a customer service survey at the end of the call."

Hand resting on the bottle between them, he shrugs: "Maybe we'll just tell them we know where the alcohol is."

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[MINGLE] Harvest Feast 🍂

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