[MINGLE] Breakfast Feast

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: Lawn in front of 6I Inn
WHEN: Morning, April 5
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
WARNINGS: n/a

---

The day dawns bright and just a little cool, soft mist rolling over the distant mountains as the forest stretches and yawns in the breeze. It's another beautiful morning in this new-old village, just waiting for its inhabitants to begin filling it with the work of the day.

But this day, there is a surprise. A gift, if you will, not unfamiliar to the old timers, although they know too that sometimes these gifts come with strings.

On the lawn in front of the 6I inn, all of the tables, chairs and even the bar has been moved out into the breaking sunshine. A breakfast feast has been arranged, tables piled high with every imaginable delicacy and comfort food of a certain era: Muffins, toast, coffee, fruit, pop-overs, crumpets, lamb chops, porridge, hot chocolate, biscuits, and every kind of egg, just to start. Even the bar is stocked for those itching for mimosas, mint juleps or irish coffee.

Of course, anyone who has spent time in the wilderness can tell you: In a place gone wild, it's only a matter of time before the scent of food draws in unwanted visitors. Eat up while you can, villagers; you may be sharing your plate soon.


[Please read details here!]

Comments

[underpinnings]

It's the kind of thing Owen's had an eye out for since arriving: individuals reacting against the grain, people breaking off on their own. There's no trusting what the natural leaders of a group say about it--you have to weigh it against the stragglers, the voices of dissent.

Survival of the fittest, but--you still weigh the merit of a settlement against how it treats the weak. At least, he'd been trying to.

Today, he's also just suspicious of the food. Control of supplies is control of people, where he's from, and it's too soon to trust a handout. There's something wrong with this guy's food, or maybe something wrong with him, and Owen gives it a minute of poking around his plate, letting the man pass him by at the edge of things. Another minute, laying the plate down under a bush and arching a brow at the oddly scaled snout that drags it out of sight--and he moves between alarming fauna and alarmed villager, finding him on the next open path.

[majorlyugh]

Major doesn't really have a particular destination in mind - although maybe, subconsciously, he's heading back towards the house he and Ravi share, in the hopes that his friend will have ... some kind of cure. Is it a cure he wants? Or maybe confirmation of what he thinks is going on? Or maybe it's something else entirely? He'd been so excited to be fully human again when he'd arrived here however many months ago, able to eat regular food, able to taste it the way it was meant to be tasted, never having to worry about what to do in the event of emergency. There's no breaking a glass panel here to save him; he is that glass panel, and he doesn't really feel like getting a hammer to the face just yet.

He doesn't even see the stranger with whom he almost collides, his eyes and focus on the ground and keeping his feet moving. If what he suspects is truly happening, he'll need to get away from the others as fast as and soon as possible. He doesn't want to be there if and when he turns.

"Oh! Hey! Sorry" he shouts, coming to an abrupt halt, practically skidding on his heels to avoid impact. "I, uh. I didn't see you there."

[underpinnings]

Owen's good hand comes up between them, just in case, but he doesn't quite have to catch the man before he stops. It's more warding gesture than reach, protection of self over control of another. Even if the line between those can be blurry. "You're fine," he says, dismissing the apology.

It's not what he's interested in. Cocking his jaw slightly, he watches the man's face.

"Looked like the food didn't agree with you. Wanted to make sure you're alright, let people know if there's a problem."

[majorlyugh]

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," Major attempts, putting on his best, convincing affect. He got skilled at doing so when everything in his life was going to shit, and he didn't want everyone to know about it all, but there's a slight, barely perceptible quiver in his voice, a millisecond twitch in his gaze, like he's suddenly remembered he has to maintain eye contact if he wants to pull a convincing enough lie. The corners of his lips even curl to offer a friendly, dismissive smile, but the light of it is miles away from his eyes. They, contrastingly, look rather worried despite his attempts.

"No problem here --" he stops, realizing he has no idea what this stranger's name is. "We haven't met before, I don't think, though I think I recognize you from around the village."

[underpinnings]

The best lie Owen knows is to just keep your mouth shut. The opposite of worried isn't happy, it's bored. Be quiet, genuinely do not give a shit. A smile can't look nervous if you don't smile.

And underneath it, he worries all the time. Life keeps giving him a reason.

"Owen," he says, filling in the blank. His raised hand retreats into his side, arms crossing over his chest. "We haven't met, but I still know when someone's shitting me. Something got you spooked, and I want to know what we're dealing with."

[majorlyugh]

"Owen. I'll remember that." Major's got a penchant for remembering names, though the skill's been a little fuzzy since arriving in the village. It doesn't quite make sense, when he sits to think about it, given that there are fewer people here than there were back in Seattle, and yet .. huh. Maybe it has to do with the random disappearing, re-appearing act that happens. Maybe that's what gets in the way of him remembering people's names really well.

"The food, uh. It just didn't - doesn't - taste .. right to me. Off. But part of me thinks that maybe it's the village messing around with me. Wouldn't be the first time, like when I completely forgot who I was for a week." At least, that's what Major is telling himself - that it's nothing, that it isn't what he fears, that it'll all blow over .. eventually.

[underpinnings]

Owen's eyes narrow--but not for the flimsy answer, for that little detail. Forgot who I was for a week. The more he learns about this place, the less he likes it--and he's used to having bare minimum expectations for his living arrangements.

"Was it any--specific food," he makes himself ask, trying not to get caught up in the bits he can't fully understand, and seemingly none of them can predict. Random feasts, fountain arrivals, amnesia. Sounds fucking peachy. "And do you think they'd just mess with the taste, or is it--something else?"

His eyes are still narrowed, but his suspicion is entirely on the food, now. "Sorry, just--if there's something people should know, we need to warn them. It's hard to trust something like that being set out for free."