[MINGLE] EVENT: Birthday Party

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: 6I inn front lawn
WHEN: 4 August, all day
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Some mentions of drug use
NOTES: Full plot details here. List of favors here.

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The fourth of August dawns pleasantly mild and clear, with hardly a cloud in the sky. Which is good, because it means there's plenty of sunshine to see the riot of color that has errupted on the front lawn of the inn.

The general set-up will be familiar to those who've been in the village long enough — Tables and chairs from inside the inn set up outside for a party by the time everyone wakes. This party, though, seems to have been turned up to about 11, and the theme is definitely new: Balloons, streamers, party favors, and everything in a rainbow of colors that villagers have come to know extremely well.

Each place is set with its own (occasionally large) goody bag and birthday present, each in the color belonging to the owner on the tag. One place, done up all in silver and gray, is set for the lost.

The tables are piled high with the sort of fare you'd find at a children's party: Cake, soda, hamburgers, pizza. Not a beer or cup of coffee in sight. And on the edge of the lawn, beside an area possibly kept clear for dancing, is the most bewildering, magical thing of all, no pocket change needed.

Tuck in and let loose, villagers. If you're lucky, maybe someone will spike the punch.

Comments

[digging]

"I think we're all missing them lately," Karen says as she settles onto the floor herself, back against the end of the sofa, head thunking softly against the upholstered arm. She doesn't mean it as bleakly as it sounds, thinking more of everyday difficulties instead of death, but either way the fact remains. They'd all probably be a lot better off if even a fraction of the people here who had powers back home had them here with any degree of consistency. But then maybe that's the whole, miserable point.

"Did you ever get a place to stay that wasn't a tent?"

[underachievement]

For less selfish reasons than the one consigning Jess to her floor, probably. Big picture shit. Jess feels guilty about that too but she's also sick of looking after people who don't want to be looked after. The descriptions she got of Peeta, he had no business being in that situation. And she was nowhere around and in no fit state to help. But she'll feel like shit about it anyway. Karen just gave her her blessing. Jess ducks her head, lips taut as her hair comes loose again. She leaves it.

"House, out in the sticks," or what passes for them. Hilariously, she thought about claiming one of the vacant houses in the abandoned Seventh village, but decided to stay closer to the community, in case she was needed. Hilarious.

[digging]

Jessica could mean one of the houses at the end of the street, or one of the ones across the river; either way, Karen sincerely doubts her own ability to make sure Jessica gets there and into her own bed. If she had a wheelbarrow, maybe.

"I'll get you a pillow and a blanket," she says, and pushes herself back to her feet even though she's just sat down. She likes Jessica well enough, or thinks she might, anyway, if they knew each other a little better, but blotto bonding is a lot less fun when only one of you is drunk.

[underachievement]

Carefully, she lolls her head to her shoulder and then back onto the couch seat. Just as carefully, she sighs and relents to sagging bonelessly where she landed. The only gesture she can conceive of to make up for crashing Karen's night is dropping off a bottle of liquor -- not moonshine but whatever label of questionably quality next shows up at her own door, courtesy of their kidnappers. Yeah, right. She's shitwrecked but she's not that drunk. It's the right thing to do, inarguably, but she's not a good enough person to do it.

She knows who would be. What a bullshit segue for her thoughts to take, especially as Karen reenters her peripheral vision. "Thanks," Jess mumbles, uninvested in expressing her gratitude as she is in the comforts she's receiving. She's thinking about what she knows about death here, about the ghosts in Reims that shouldn't have risen, but not about Kevin. She won't fall asleep, as physically close to it as she feels; it could endanger Karen and Claire if one of them tried to rouse her from a bad dream. Bubble blasted by good intentions. Nope, she's just waiting out gravity, which is partying on without her.

[digging]

"Sure," Karen replies with a faint smile as she stands, pillow and neatly-folded blanket stacked in her hands, debating the best place to deposit them so that they'll actually get used. Her gaze bounces from the couch to the recently vacated chair to where Jessica is still slumped on the floor. Figuring she'll split the difference, she opts for the chair.

"If I was Claire, I'd probably have some kind of miracle tea to help with the spinning, but I have a feeling she's not going to be home tonight, so you're stuck with my crappy mothering. Sorry," she says, a resigned quirk of her mouth as she drops the items onto the chair.