[MINGLE] Crab Boil

[markwatney]

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Inn front lawn
WHEN: 21 June 2018, afternoon/evening and onward
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
NOTES: A few thinsgs: You may assume your character helped set up; There are tubers in pot with the red salt, negating the warmth effect; The list of of potluck dishes is here; The list of local provisions is here

---

The weather is great, the sun is starting to dip toward the horizon, and it's pleasantly mild. Time for an (extremely) old-fashioned low country boil.

We've got two small fire pits built out in front of the inn, each with a massive pot filled with loads of vegetables — corn, carrots, potatoes, onions — and of course the rainbow crabs Finnick and Annie discovered not long after we arrived here. We've even got salt, if you can believe it, although the red salt in this place is pretty spicy and usually makes me sweat, so I've only put it in the one pot, and then set a bowl of it out for garnishing.

Tables and chairs have been brought out from inside, a couple of them set aside specifically for piles of plates, bowls, cups and whatever potluck provisions the rest of the village brings.

Comments

Samantha Moon | OTA | Potato Vodka

[thegreatexperiment]

Sam didn't make it to the party until the sun went down. Although she seemed to be coping with the alien daylight better than any Kindred could ever hope, it still made her nervous. It just felt wrong. Like wearing the skin tightness she remembered from her sunburnt days. Or wearing your shoes on the wrong feet. The less she was exposed, the better.

But she arrived with a flourish and she arrived with two gallon jugs of her homemade potato vodka.

She was reasonably sure it had the kick of paint thinner, but drinking enough of it would probably lead people not to care.

After she set the jugs down with the food, she started to wander the periphery of the party. Once a wallflower. Or something. She didn't have any nice clothes for the occasion, so she just wore her scrub bottoms and her black bra, her blue curls spiraling down along her pale skin. It was the sort of get-up she might have worn to a Goth club, back in the day. And she found herself missing the pulse and beat of the music. In that way she missed her own heartbeat.

She kind of wanted to dance.

And much against her will and inclination, she found herself popping her hip to an imaginary rhythm.

[dann_0]

Danny smiles at her as he reaches for a glass of the vodka. He smiles slightly as he tries it. "Not bad." He studies her hair for a long moment. "That is an impressive colour."

Nat and her new puppy | OTA

[iwasrussian]

She made no promise that she'd be coming, but the box left in her room at Clint's house was reason enough, especially since what was in the box shouldn't have been given to someone like her. And yet, the moment she pulled the lid off and got a look at a gorgeous set of blue eyes, Natasha knew that giving him back was going to be easier said than done.

So she went down to the party with the puppy tucked safely into her arms and searched around for Clint or her other two roommates to see if they knew anything. It didn't take long, however, to forget why she was down there because suddenly all that food and atmosphere was far too great to ignore.

[thekittenqueen]

Since Sansa's disappearance, Akira kept close to Margaery. Along with Gilbert, she had two different dogs at her heels, usually sleeping next to her skirts or under her chair. Animals were common in the village, not only in the fields or in pens, but also close at hand. Seeing a puppy in Nat's arms wasn't an unusual sight, but it was pleasant to see. Set against all of the pain and frustration this village could bring, it was nice to be greeted by a sight so gentle and sweet.

"Did you just receive him?" She asked, shooing Gilbert from the nearby chair. He protested with a whine before jumping onto her lap. Akira, from in front of her feet, let out a loud yawn. "One more dog in this spot and we could have a herd."

[dann_0]

Danny is walking around the table, trying out food and talking to people when he spots the puppy. He might not be totally crazy about dogs but he did once insist on a dog getting the front seat in his car so... He walks over, smiling softly.

"Mind if I say hello?" He motions to the dog.

[oorah]

Frank never met Max as a puppy, but if he had he would bank on him looking almost exactly like this little guy. The blue eyes throw him off though, wondering if he's not a mix with a dog more prone to those kinds of characteristics, like a Husky.

He approaches silently, as ever, eyeing the dog and then her. Can he...?

Bucky Barnes | Open

[freightcars]

At any given time during the party, Bucky can be found doing his best version of mingling. A noteworthy tidbit- he's got a busted bottom lip with a noticeable cut and he's dotted with a few bruises along his neck and jaw, so any drinking and eating he does will be favoring the opposite side.

a;

Congratulations, Barnes has found the booze. He hasn't had a drink since he's been here, and what's more, back home alcohol never really effected him that much thanks to the serum running through his veins boosting his metabolism. As such, he can be found nursing a rather hefty serving of the most disgusting, strongest, best vodka he's had in a long time. After a generous helping he peruses the plates and dishes, sticking a fork in some and sampling them without actually committing to putting anything on a plate.

b;

He's not a picky eater by any means, but after the food's served and he's got a plate with a big fucking rainbow crab sitting on it, there's an obvious wariness to his expression. He picks it up gingerly by a claw, examines it from all sides, and could swear to god it's looking at him. He can be heard muttering to himself; "Doesn't rainbow usually mean poisonous?"

c;

Peer Pressure, thy name is Barnes. A few drinks in and the Winter Soldier's social skills seem to have taken a significant step forward, because he approaches with a genuine warmth and an extra cup of something clear that smells like paint thinner. He promptly silently foists it into the hands of the next friendly face he sees. Drinking buddies are mandatory, thank you, take the cup.

d;

After having perhaps one (or two) too many, he's gotten a little sloppy and reopened the cut on his lip. He ducks off to the side out of the comings and goings of the party, settles into a quiet area full of trash and leftover plates in search of a napkin, one hand pressing to his lip, trying his messy best not to get blood on anyone or anything.

D

[thegreatexperiment]

Sam could only handle people for so long. Eventually, inevitably, they always started to get to her. Sometimes it was nerves. Sometimes it was humor (or lack thereof). But in this hellhole? Here, it was almost always, and inevitably, the fact that so many people seemed to have a tribe. A clan--as it were. Family from home. Whereas Sam was constantly, irreversibly, and hopelessly on her own.

One too many arms went around one too many sets of shoulders sooner or later. That was how these shindigs always seemed to end, while Sam was out in the cold.

At least it was a pleasant cold, tonight.

And when she finally reached that breaking point, she slipped around a corner, settling down in the grass. The moon was strangely alluring. Kind of the polar opposite of the daylight she didn't trust. So after a while, Sam, tired of craning her neck back, sprawled out across the ground. She looked like a tanner who'd lost their sense of night and day. A moon-bather. Her hair and elbows sinking into the grass.

She wasn't much for Zen, but she was starting to get comfortable. Until she picked up a whiff of blood. There was someone moving around, away from the party. These people were about as dangerous as Care Bears--and just as trusting--so Sam didn't mind. But she did push herself up a little higher on her elbows. "Hello?"

C/D

[ex_enlisted288]

[ As a former professional artist, Steve can confirm that whatever concoction inside the cup Bucky shoves into his free hand does indeed smell like paint thinner. He makes a face, taking the offering as the challenge it is, and downs a gulp of -- ]

Christ, what the hell is that?

[ You know, in a minute, when he can breathe freely again. Of course, he's also going to notice the blood once his attention has stopped being hijacked by the booze. ]

Mayor Hotdog | OTA

[oorah]

Frank sets his casserole on the table and steps away from the food (and the people) tellingly. Aretha mills around the party freely and he doesn't try to discourage it - she's not his dog, no matter what Karen insists. And no matter how Aretha acts as if she most definitely is. The strangely silent fresh arrival is here, in street clothes instead of his scrubs - wearing long sleeves despite the mild weather.

It reminds him of the cookouts in Reims except... much, much more normal. No soundproofing, or tarps if it was raining. Just laughter and food and regular interaction. It makes his heart ache in a way he thought was long dead, a corner of it longing for the simple times before his family had died, or even more palpably, when the Natives would throw shindigs like this and he and Jessica would somehow inexplicably find themselves in the same area. It always ended with her storming off, come to think of it, and just that memory is enough to get him to smile. Maria was much the same way, and who doesn't get a little nostalgic while thinking about girls being mean to you??

His goal is to remain slightly removed from the festivities, but he had brought a dish and involved himself as it were. He never can seem to not do that, can he? A common criticism, though often accompanied by Hotdog I need X so he was never truly free. Here he could do anything, he could disappear into the woods and no one would have cause for concern, except maybe Karen. It's a pleasant fantasy, but one he isn't capable of entertaining for long. As much as he sucks at actually talking to anyone here, he does want to help, and he has a lot of experience surviving conditions much harsher than this. That doesn't mean he'll actively engage anyone, except the dogs of course. When he isn't staring stonily into the crowd with his arms crossed he's crouched next to Aretha whispering under his breath to her or making the rounds with her to see if they can find other dog friends. He has #priorities tbh.

[morphogenia]

She's met people kind enough to point her towards civilization at this point. Kamala is appreciative even if a little weirded out at the fact that no one has been attacked. She's seen enough to know this isn't Reims, France. She is starting to wonder if this is a whole different world altogether. It's a scary thought. Kamala knows how to survive within the rules of that world and her own. How does she survive this one? Does she even have to when they are throwing parties on the front lawn?

She plays it safe. Kamala scans the crowd carefully for anyone familiar as she works out her next move. She's both surprised and not by the man lurking outside it. Frank. It feels too good to be true. She has to wonder if it's a trap or something; like an old animated children's movie. She should watch a while longer so she does. She stays in place far enough away not to engage anyone actively and stares at him. If this is the real Frank, he'll notice. He notices everything. If it's not, she'll avoid him. Simple test the real one could never fail.

When he does notice her, she'll throw another test at him because why not? She loves tests when she's not the one taking them. Plus she's heard the stories about people losing their memories. She needs to check if this Frank is hers too. (She wonders idly if he'd be proud of how she covered her bases like this.) She flashes his okay symbol at him and points in his direction. I'm okay. Are you? If he fails at least she knows she's more than far enough away to outrun him even if her powers aren't working.

Mark Watney | OTA

[markwatney]

I don't really consider myself a cook, but with a few brief exceptions, (and not counting in space), I've lived alone since I left my parents' house at eighteen. I had to learn to figure things out in the kitchen, not to mention that since I was a sophomore undergrad, I've had a steady supply of fresh fruits and vegetables grown by my own hand right there, everyday. My mom didn't teach me to be wasteful, and if you've ever had a vegetable garden of your own, you know there's only so much you can give away.

So I learned.

What I've brought today is pretty simple, but I'm happy enough with it, and happier still to see the group milling leisurely across the lawn. I brought Bethany over to trim the verge last week, so it almost actually feels semi-normal and not like we're all trapped here against our will.

The crabs have all been boiled and dumped out into the biggest serving dishes we could find, the campfires are still going, providing light as the sky darkens. Sighing, I settle into one chair and put my feet up on another and finally tackle my own plateful of food.

[thekittenqueen]

She had been meaning to speak with Mark since her talk with Robb. With everything settled in her mind, there was only the moving forward and making plans on the more practical aspects. She still had to think about her garden, fence and actual moving, but at least one of those could be solved now, or at least fleshed out.

Crabs were a rare treat and one that she didn't know how to make for herself. After filling her plate with a few, she took a seat across from Mark. "I wonder if you could help me with something? This is a strange question but is it possible to transport fruit trees from one plot of land to another?"

Karen Page | OTA

[digging]

Now that she's here, Karen is beginning to wonder why.

It's not that she can't appreciate the sentiment, or that she doesn't agree that a community gathering like this can be a balm to everybody, old and new; it's mostly that she can't seem to sit still, and acting like everything is peachy or even semi-normal is right out. She didn't even bring a dish to share, and normally she loves to cook.

Frank is skulking on the edge of the party with a dog he asked her permission to bring to the party. The dog. Not Karen. He asked to bring the dog.

There is, at least, something approximating booze on offer, and it might taste like paint thinner, but it's more than she's had in months. She finds herself a glass, cuts the stuff with water and pulpy fruit juice, and has half of it downed in about two minutes. If she gets a little tipsy, she doesn't think she can be blamed: They're all probably clones, she's never getting home, and she is being stalked by a version of Frank Castle who says more to her dog than he does to her.

At least if she gets full-on drunk, she's got Claire to hold her hair.

[3ofswords]

Kira is still scraping his tongue on his teeth when he finds Karen, putting away her juice in a way that no one drinks juice, even at the height of their vitamin deficiencies. "I should've thought of that," he says; the shit is so strong, he's not sure that rasp is going away anytime soon. Probably when his attention span, motor skills, and ability to form words start to liquefy. "Guess that's why you're Nancy Drew, and I'm just George."

If Karen's of half the mind he is--and they are, perhaps, two halves of the only mind grappling with the ultimate bullshit--they're probably best served downing this shit together.

Better to drunkenly unload your existential dread on the person who already knows. Digging in his back pocket, he produces a blunt he rolled before leaving the house. Better, honestly, to fend off the dread with anything available. "Want to mix one of those for the road and go smoke behind the Town Hall?"

Kira Akiyama | OTA

[3ofswords]

Kira hadn't signed up to bring anything, mostly because he'd been naturally conscripted to help boil crabs; a hot enough job that he'd succumbed and cut another pair of pants into shorts, and hacked apart one of his hoarded pairs of old boots to improvise a pair of sandals. The worn old soles slap on his heels as he fusses around the space, delivering food to the main table, setting Aurora on her ugly grey cousins--more to distract than scare them off.

It feels like summer: rolled sleeves, denim fraying around his thighs, outdoor gatherings and the smell of seafood.

Dubious alcohol.

He's trying to enjoy it--not just the bathtub vodka--but but atmosphere. He's trying to remember what Bucky said: it's real to them, it's part of who they are. The simulation and this place. The memories that shaped them, before ever arriving in this place. It's real to him. It's real to him. He has a coat and a photo and a deck of cards, and they feel familiar in his hands. When he picks up the purple blossoms in Mark's workroom, he smells things he's never encountered, here.

It's real, except for how it isn't. Thinking about it makes him want to scream, but survival doesn't always take so much work that thought can fall the wayside. Sometimes you spend all day boiling crabs and watching a goat trim the weeds, and sometimes you're adrift at a party, breathing through the worst sip of the worst booze you've ever had--and all you can think is:I have been alive less than a year. I have been awake less than three months.

So: fuck it. Nodding at someone else making the face the potato vodka deserves, Kira tips his jar at them and squeezes his eyes shut to drain it.

[noctyourking]

Kira. Noctis is glad to see a familiar face, not that this place as so big and so crowded they all got lost from one another from time to time. No, they saw one another all the time. Talking to one another was something a bit more involved, something he’s had a hard time doing himself since coming here. He felt out of place: something he knew he shared with all the others. He wasn’t sure why it was he was here: one more thing he shared with everyone else. With so much in common it ought to be easy to spark up a conversation, yet it wasn’t. At least not for him. The more alike he felt to them the more he felt estranged. Or, perhaps, it was the fact that he was far away from the place he did belong.

The vodka was nothing he would crave, but it was something that was offered and he had taken. He reciprocated the nod and looked down to his own cup before he took an obligatory sip.

Peter Parker | OTA | BEWARE! INFINITY WAR SPOILERS IN HERE

[fwips]

Peter has been thinking about the crab boil all day. Not because he loves crabs or anything — Not that he doesn't, he likes crabs fine — but because almost all of the village is probably going to be there, and he doesn't know when he'll have another chance to talk to them all without it having a bunch of anxiety-inducing build-up. He's got enough anxiety as it is, he'll take a hard pass on adding more, thanks.

And he really thinks, deep down in his gut, that it's probably past time to tell the people who don't know about Thanos and the stones.

The sun's just gone down, but it looks like most everybody is still here — It's now or never, even if it kind of ruins the party. He clears his throat, pulls in a deep breath and yells out into the crowd.

"Hey, everybody!" he cries, and despite the few heads that actually turn, he realizes quickly that he's way too short for this and scrambles onto a chair.

"Hey, everybody!" he repeats with a wave of his arms. "I'm Peter, I've been here almost two months, and I have something I think everybody needs to know." Most of the faces are actually looking his way now, and he falters, swallowing hard.

"Some of the people here are from my same planet and reality, and they already know what happened, but I think the rest of you should know, because I think it's maybe why we're all here together." Another breath. "There are these stones, called Infinity Stones— I'm not really an expert on them, but I guess they were formed at the Big Bang— Um, the start of the universe. They're basically the most powerful objects in the universe. Almost no one can control even one of them, but this big purple guy named Thanos had a gauntlet made so that he could control all five. He had it in his head that there were too many people in the universe and he wanted to get rid of half, and he could do that with the stones."

Peter drops his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching down. "We tried to stop him getting them, but... we didn't." He glances back up. "He got them all, and half of everyone in the universe just... disappeared. Including me. And maybe including you. Because the stones control time and space and reality... and I think Thanos didn't really know what he was doing because nobody's ever controlled all the stones before. So maybe he grabbed people from other realities or times on accident. And some of us ended up here, where ever this is."

He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "And I know it doesn't explain everything, but it explains a lot, and I'm trying to figure out how we can counteract the stones and get back home, but I guess you already know it's not very easy. If anybody knows about quantum mechanics and wants to help, I'd be really grateful. That's all."

He hesitates a moment more, staring out at everyone, and then steps back down off the chair.

[lastofthekellys]

Kate isn't drinking. At least, she's not drinking the potato vodka. Juice and water, that is her. Which all seems a betrayal of her heritage, but needs must. Except, from the way she's studying her glass after young Mr Parker finishes, she clearly wishes she trusted herself to chance a drink.

She sets her glass down next to her plate (ladled with food she didn't cook, because she'd cooked the daily lunch at the Inn and made the executive choice to take the afternoon off and it is lovely) and studied the boy. Young man. Boy. That awkward and earnest stage between the two, which really seems to sum him up from what she's seen of him.

Finally, she speaks.

"Why is he purple?"

Steve Rogers | OTA

[ex_enlisted288]

[ Barely two days after he arrived, the little village holding everyone captive has a crab boil. Or, rather, everyone being held captive in the village has one of those. Despite volunteering for KP duties, he's still feeling a little out of sorts despite the presence of his best friend and once best girl, so it's a little tempting to just wait until everything is over.

However, that would be cowardly, and he's never backed down from anything in his life. As the aforementioned people can witness. Or complain about.

So Steve shows up, fills half a plate with food, and meanders at a slow pace, not at all patrolling and keeping an eye out for trouble. (Except he is.) He's trying to keep to the outskirts of the crowd, just observing for now, although if any familiar faces catch his attention, there's a good chance the blond will make his way over. For the most part, though, he's still finding his feet here and is content not being anywhere near the center of attention.

And, after the gathering is over, Steve can be found washing dishes just like he signed up for. ]

[frankensteinian]

Erik is not really in the mood for a gathering like this, but he had signed up to make some food, so he's here. After he drops the potato pancakes off at one of the food tables, he grabs a plate and piles it high with a variety of food. That's the other thing that got him here, after all. All the food that he didn't have to make himself.

Then he retreats too, off to the edge somewhere. He's here, but if he hangs around the edge, he doesn't have to be social. Call it a compromise. He just can't stop thinking about how it was at a gathering similar to this one that he first met Claire. And now he has to come to this one without her.

Ravi Chakrabarti | OTA

[zomboligist]

There's just such a desperate desire to shout out 'crabs are here' about every twenty seconds, but Ravi gets the feeling that most people don't know the true joy of the Jersey Shore and might be more liable to kill him out of irritation, at least if they haven't been indulging in the vodka yet. Once they dig into it, he's sure that everyone will deeply appreciate his humour.

He's not sure what to make of the crabs, exactly, apart from the fact that he's very proud of these dead gay crabs and all the choices they fought so hard for, so they could love the crab they wanted.

Prior to being eaten alive and deliciously eaten, of course. Ravi comes prepared, a bib in hand, a hungry appetite, and settles himself down in front of a table where he can pluck himself one of the rainbow crabs onto a plate with some pancakes, staring down at the multicoloured loveliness.

"You know, it's a shame I have to eat you," he tells it, even as he's breaking open a crab leg. "I like to think of myself as a true ally, but I'm not sure that works if I'm also eating you at the same time." The only question now is, where's the dipping butter and is that meant to be rainbow coloured as well?

Re: Ravi Chakrabarti | OTA

[notsocommon]

Helen actually appreciated Ravi's humor more often than not, even if she wasn't in touch enough to recognize a Jersey Shore reference. She'd gotten her own crabs (the spicy ones, naturally) and settled next to Ravi in hopes that she could simply relax for a little while and not think about her continuing Zombie Brain Replacement problem.

"A true ally? I didn't realize you were a friend to all crustaceans," Helen said dryly. "I didn't realize there was a Crab Preservation Society here in the village."

Peggy Carter | OTA

[womanofvalue]

If anyone wants to survive this little cookout, then Peggy is absolutely not going to be responsible for cooking anything, lest someone go and poison themselves on her best efforts. Instead, she turns up and helps to prepare the area by rolling up her sleeves and hauling in chairs and tables, telling herself that she'll also help to clean up, which is how she's going to earn her place.

Once she's secure in thinking that she's not going to have anyone shouting at her for freeloading, Peggy grabs a crab on a plate with some carrots and potatoes, using a dab of the red salt atop it without much of a thought about what she's putting in her mouth.

That only lasts about three seconds after she begins to eat the spiced carrot and her mouth begins to cook, like she's on fire. Sweating and stifling hiccups, Peggy realises her second mistake. She hadn't fetched anything to drink before she'd sat down, which means she's now sitting there gulping and wheezing and fanning her face as she tries to gesture for the nearest person to come over and help.

"Water," she manages to croak out. "Please?" She thinks that she might actually catch on fire, she's not ruling it out.

[lastofthekellys]

Kate, dressed in the pretty light blue dress that had been a gift via Miss Peggy that strange, strange Christmas, had been getting up for seconds. This food is delicious, and none of it is anything she'd cooked. No, she'd worked at lunch and then gone home to her and Benedict's house to wash up and rest and read a little, and take the afternoon off knowing that there'd be food. And, also, knowing that she'd (probably) trained the villagers well enough not to destroy (her) the Inn's kitchen. So the little woman is being a bit of a glutton, albeit a social one, when she notices Miss Peggy's hiccups.

Water, the woman begs.

"Here," Kate says, moving quickly without thought. Her own glass she'd left at her seat, but it's just a quick matter to double back and grab it. "You drink that, and I'll get a jug for you."

Honestly, the woman looks terrible.

Peeta Mellark | OTA

[notbadcakeboss]

It was because of luck that he was able to clean the bakery in time for the gathering. With available material (more than they had free in District 12) he had fresh bread for everyone to enjoy. It was limited, they could only have one each and the loaves weren't very large (much to his frustration), but it was at least something he could provide.

The food was different than what he had seen at Capital parties, but there was no disregard to waste or the hungry. They weren't stuffing themselves only to drink something and empty their stomachs. Everything brought was enjoyed and shared, much like he imagined District 12 might be if they received a feast like this. Every little bite would matter and mean something. While they weren't starving here, they understood how dire things could be.

While the thoughts were dark, it was hard to drift away from them after a life of these conditions. Still, he filled his plate and told himself that everyone would have enough.

"There should be music," he said to no one in particular. "I don't know if we have any instruments, but there should be music."

Re: Peeta Mellark | OTA

[burn_with_us]

"Music? I could sing but I don't like to...perform, necessarily." Katniss remembers when she was younger and would sing out in front of everyone at Music Assembly but those had been in the days before her father died and before she'd gotten hardened by circumstances. Now singing seems like something reserved only for those who need to be sung away home after death. It's not something she does to celebrate any longer.

Still, Peeta has a point. It's a party. There should be music and there should be celebration even if it's more prudent to be preparing for whatever might hit them next. She gives him a wry smile.

"What kind of music would you even want?"

Margaery Tyrell | OTA

[thekittenqueen]

Much of the fruit in her salad was the last from her garden, freshly harvested and prepared into a sweet bowl that seemed to have as much juice as it did fruit. It was the product of Margaery's hardwork, something to share with the village, cultivated with her own hands. That small fact always filled her with delight, no matter how small it might be to anyone else.

If there was to be a feast, she would rather it be something the village decided and planned for on their own, rather than waking to find another in the inn. Nothing truly had gone wrong with them, but they never made her feel completely at ease enough that she could enjoy the food. It didn't matter how well or poorly the food was made, it was refreshing and brought by the people she worked and lived alongside.

"Have some blueberries. They're tart."

[noctyourking]

Noct had been drawn toward the woman in the fact that they hadn’t talked yet before, though he’s seen her around. He was about four feet when she welcomed him to the blueberries. “Oh..” He softly nodded and reached for a few. Three came back with his fingers and he settled them on an open palm. He moved his fingertips over the soft round things before he brought one to his mouth and popped it in. He chewed the fruit and found a sudden burst of juice splash in his mouth. His eyes lowered to the other blueberries in his hand and he swallowed the juice and found his jaw began to tingle with a sensation he wasn’t sure he enjoyed.

He looked up to her face and offered a small smirk and swallowed before he spoke. “Thank you, they’re good.”

Circe | OTA

[pharmakis]

Since Circe's arrival, there had been an notable absence in what she felt and sensed among the animals and plant life. There was a connection that once existed for her but had been severed when she was turned into a mortal and climbed out of the fountain. There were a number of adjustments to be made, but it was the most difficult to accept as it left her feeling blind and deaf. But suddenly, the animals were responding to her as they used to and the plants started to turn towards her again.

She was comfortable and happy, perfect timing for this gathering where the entire village would be. Gathering the materials for her stew had been easier, as the ground yielded in the way she remembered from her island. Tubers and a water goose might be simple, but she was proud of what she created, as though it were one of her potions or draughts. It was made and toiled with by her hands. Each time someone grabbed a bowl full, she grinned delighted.

"What do you think? Tell me truthfully?"

Re: Circe | OTA

[tooktheblack]

Jon wasn't someone who was picky about food, normally, but seeing that Circe had brought something he took it upon himself to try it. He took a taste, chewing thoughtfully, and realized he wouldn't have to lie in order to be polite about it - what she'd prepared was good.

"You're a fine cook," Jon said, grinning a bit. "Is that what gods teach their daughters? Or is it just because you know magic?"

Danny | OTA

[dann_0]

Danny had been working hard at his dish. Making pasta from scratch without a rolling machine takes some work. But on the other hand, he was enjoying it. He really does like making food for people and better yet when he can make dishes he remembers from family gatherings. The William's family loves their Italian food after all.

He shows up to the party with a big bowl of pasta with a simple sauce made of tomatoes and herbs. Sadly there isn't any cheese, while mozzarella should be easy to make in theory Danny has never done it. But that shouldn't matter too much, he knows the flavours are on point.

After setting the pasta on the table he grabs a plate and starts wandering about, talking to people and checking what they brought.

[noctyourking]

There were a lot of people here. Although, by now, he’d seen most of them and talked to quite a few of them. He made it a point to reach out to others he hasn’t quite met yet. Noctis feels awkward, which is a familiar feeling, but he once lived a life where large gatherings like this was something of a common place.

He still wore his scrubs, nothing else to replace them with, but at least he did a good job keeping them clean. Perhaps not up to Ignis’ standards, perhaps it was good his friend wasn’t here to see the state he was in.

“Hello?” He went up to the stranger and introduced himself. “I’m Noctis.. I don’t think we’ve spoken yet..” He looked over the other table and took a breath. “Wow.. this all looks great..” He looked to the new addition, the bowl of pasta. “Nice, … I can’t cook a Cup’a Noodles barely to save my life..”

Haymitch Abernathy | ota

[juststayalive]

Oh. Oh there are a a lot of people here. Haymitch hadn't meant to wander into this gathering, but it had happened anyway. Probably because it's all happening outside, and he can't get past the inn without running into all the people.

He pauses at the edge of the crowd, unsure about coming any further. There's something menacing about large groups of people gathered in one place; or at least that's true in most cases in Panem. The crowds that gathered in the Capitol to watch the Games had been perfect opportunities to find sponsors for the tributes, but there had still been a sinister undercurrent to those gatherings, because they had gathered to watch people die.

He doesn't think that anyone in this crowd is going to die, since it seems to have been organized by the villagers themselves, and he hasn't heard of anyone dying since his arrival. But old habits die hard, and crowds are not his favorite place to be.

He's about to move on when he catches sight of the tables. There's a lot of food there, and he is getting hungry. He's dependent on others to provide him with food anyway, because those are not skills he has, and there's no harm in sticking around until he's had something to eat, right?

It's when he's putting food on his plate that he notices something else. Something he'd know anywhere. Some form of alcohol. Homemade, but so was the white liquor he used to drink back in Panem. He sets the plate down and picks up a glass instead, into which he pours a measure of the alcohol.

He drinks it down in one gulp and reaches for the gallon again, to refill his glass.

Re: Haymitch Abernathy | ota

[burn_with_us]

"Hey, go easy on that," Katniss warns. When she'd first caught a whiff of the vodka, she knew there'd be trouble if Haymitch found it and she's not wrong; he's already gulping it down faster than she can tell him no.

She needs Haymitch sober and clear-headed if she's going to get out of this place and, besides, there might not be enough vodka to stave off his addiction. She's not going to see him be a drunk again and have to detox all over.

"You don't know when it's going to run out and you'll be sick again."

Noctis Lucis Caelum | OTA

[noctyourking]

Noctis hadn’t brought anything but his muscle and keen ability to follow directions. He helped set things up; he wanted to do his part, and he would definitely help clean things up as well. He missed Ignis, Prompto, Gladiolus, Cor, the Regalia, he missed home. He missed working together as a team, having his friends with him no matter where they went, what they did, and here he was just him. This made him uncomfortable at times to think about, to sit with: himself.

He couldn’t quite be comfortable by himself. With his friends he felt so much more fulfilled. The most he could do here was look for ways to be useful, that helped with the feeling of being by himself. It made him feel like his presence here mattered, even a little. Even if it was setting out the chairs, cleaning up messes, or whatever.

At the moment he was idly standing by, playing with his fingers as he watched awkwardly from the sidelines. He was feeling a bit awkward again and anxious, waiting for the next opportunity to be useful again.

Jean-Luc Picard | OTA

[enterprisingheart]

For all that it's been quite some time since Jean-Luc has really had the chance to be involved in a cookout like this, he still remembers the idea. And even if he hadn't, he would have all but jumped at the chance to simply spend time in the same approximate area as most of the rest of the village. Or at least, anyone else who might have decided to come - he isn't expecting everyone to be interested. But he certainly is, and that's a good enough place to start.

The ratatouille he brings with him is, mostly, his mother's recipe, although he's had to make a few substitutions on account of the common provisions simply not having everything that would traditionally go into ratatouille: in the absence of eggplant, he's substituted potato, and he's needed to get a little creative with the spices (mostly basil and thyme, with a little oregano). But it tastes good enough despite that, and if no one should be interested enough to try it, he's glad enough to have simply brought it - and can probably find something to do with anything that remains, afterwards.

And once he's set his offering of food down, he sees about trying some of the other things that have been brought; other than that he mostly drifts, although he's more than content to stop to talk should anyone have an interest in doing so.

Gaius Gracchus | OTA

[ad_dicendum]

He'd had no idea of what a "crab boil" might be, though from the listing that developed on the board in the Inn suggested that plenty of other people did, and that it would involve food. He'd asked around a little, and he'd gathered that it would be some sort of dinner party, featuring the local crabs that grew here and the foods provided by the volunteers.

Gaius does not know how to cook, nor does he have any desire to do so. He'd had a cook at home, and Licinia had always managed the household and the stores, as was expected as the wife of a prominent citizen. He still hasn't learned here, though he's been putting his experience as a quaestor to use in managing the stores here. So Gaius hasn't brought anything he made, but he has brought a supply of fruits and vegetables from the storehouse and set them out on one of the tables.

He's been here long enough now that he's used to how different a dinner party is here than it would be in Rome, where guests would recline on couches and be served their meal, sometimes with important political matters being discussed.

That's one thing that isn't so different, the social role of the party, so Gaius makes sure to circulate among the guests, since that's how it's done here.

He pauses at the clear liquid that many people seem to be drinking. It has a strong, unfamiliar odor and it's not apparent whether or not people are actually enjoying it.

"What is this?"

Re: Gaius Gracchus | OTA

[dann_0]

"That is vodka." Danny has his own glass and is looking up at him from where he is working on getting all the meat out of a few crab claws, it is not the easiest or cleanest job.

"It's a kind of alcohol. Rather strong stuff. It is the first time I've had homemade, but I like it. Sam brought it." He points towards the blue-haired woman.