larkers: (WARBLER)
MEADOWLARK MODS ([personal profile] larkers) wrote in [community profile] meadowlarklogs2020-11-21 12:11 pm

EVENT #011

WHO: Everyone on Earth in Meadowlark's world.
WHERE: The Aerie, a different world.
WHEN: Late July 2512.
WHAT: The first log of our AU event, taking place in an AU world that puts on battle royale events to cull the massive overpopulation.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Overwritten minds, horrible dystopian conditions, and more!

> EVENT #011

On the morning of July 26th, every living person on Earth will be spirited away from where they were mere moments before. Just like that. Hover cars will descend slowly in transit, trains will come to a stop without a screech of their breaks, and the streets throughout every single of the 104 megacities will be left barren, empty, and lifeless. Even those lost and hidden, not seen for months, are swept gently away with the rest of their brethren. No stone will go unturned.

The world upon their return may pick up where it's left off, or it will be changed in some way. Will it be July 26th when everyone finds themselves back where they were standing before? Or will something else happen during this time? Now that the supposed lifeblood of this planet is gone, what will happen in their absence? The world may not be able to go on how it had been.

Perhaps the more terrifying question is this: if something is powerful enough to steal away every person, every single one capable of thought, ideas, conflict, war, and more, what else could happen?

Perhaps it's for the best that it may be awhile before anyone has to worry about that.

For now, they've entered a world that's one week away from its next Quarry event: a place where The Aerie's criminals fight to prove they deserve to keep their life.

> THE WORLD ENDS WITH YOU (THE AERIE)

The Aerie is a structure that should not exist.

Made of steel and concrete, it gives off the impression that its guts were arranged haphazardly, as if an amateur surgeon had pulled them out and tried to put them back in again. Steel beams stretch out between buildings, connecting them together. There may have been a wall of concrete around this beam once upon a time, but it splintered and fell away, exposing its insides and opening up a pathway that people have taken for granted in the past fifty to a hundred years. Power lines hang in loose tangles throughout this little world, ready to fall away at the slightest breeze, then splinter and spark.

Most of the insides of The Aerie are barely preserved. Trying to do that would be an impossible task: there are too many people, too many who live in concrete layered on one another like stacks of broken shelves, too many who pass through open maws of ruptured pathways, crawling up onto the roof of a business for what they think is a shortcut to a higher level. Brittle walls that splinter off into clouds of chalky white dust are everywhere and anywhere.

How The Aerie came together was once a majestic feat: a place for people to live, thrown together as extinction surged forward like a towering beast on the horizon. There was a mix of minds behind the action, as well as a hollow sense of desperation. Even those who brought The Aerie into being knew that their lives were on the line. It was a matter of "make this work" or die. So, they made it work.

What's truly impossible about The Aerie isn't the hulking structures merged together at all manner of impossible angles, but the outer layer of this little world, looming overhead in shimmering, constant glory. The people of The Aerie are protected, safe; the world outside is a nebulous, uncertain mess of greys and greens and reds and blues. Storms surge just outside of the wall of The Aerie with sharp, constant bolts of lightning that batter the surface overhead. Once upon a time, the people of this little world feared those bolts cutting through and destroying their home. But it's been long enough now. No one lives in fear of what's outside, and no one wonders, not anymore. After all, the people who made it outside were never seen again. For a time, some people could watch through the clear walls as these escapees' bodies turned to irradiated mush with only bones left behind. In time, those bones withered away to dust. And with them, their memories were forgotten.

Within The Aerie, life goes on, just as it must: riddled with fear, with survival often depending on the ability to escape notice.

Only two parts of The Aerie remain unscathed, untouched by the passage of time and haphazard construction of this refuge:

The Volary, which stands tall and pristine at the heart of The Aerie. Lights burn within The Volary all day and all night, showing signs of life that most of the people outside of its walls will never see for themselves.

And then the Quarry, a structure built in haste and out of necessity. The same people who brought The Aerie together also made the Quarry. At its base are a series of office buildings, setting up monthly arena events where the guilty fight to show that they deserve to survive.

These two things are the source of all the fear in The Aerie. It's what keeps everyone's mind off the crumbling walls, the storms outside, and the miserable, unending passage of time.

> SOAK UP THE GLORY (THE VOLARY)

When The Aerie came into being, so did The Volary. Far from fragmented like the rest of this tiny, tiny world, it stands pristine, with brown bricks lining its exterior, and strong steel beams holding it strong within. Either through its making or its care, The Volary hasn't suffered from the hands of time like the rest of the world. Anyone outside of The Volary doesn't know the truth, though they could likely guess.

Inside of The Volary lives the members of Parliament: the newly-joined Magpies, the comfortable Rooks, and the looming and most powerful, the Cardinals.

The Cardinals live at the very top. Even after over two hundred years, the Cardinals remain impenetrable. New members are accepted into their ranks from time to time, granted secrets of a bygone era, but the rest of the world remains ignorant to their knowledge. At the heart of this structure is a cult, a belief system; they are the ones who decide if The Aerie lives or dies. For now, it continues to live. Of course, any other path would lead to their devastation as well. They may be nearly immortal, but they aren't truly untouchable and eternal.

Beneath them are the rest of Parliament, cocky in their comfort. Many were born into it, but some were raised into the ranks, finding their own footholds. Sometimes these elevations seem random; sometimes these promotions happen with purpose, with someone driving to catch the eye of a Rook who's looking for someone like-minded to have around them.

Outside of the Magpies, the Rooks that were once Magpies, and the once-members of The Congregation outside, everyone seems blissfully ignorant of the dilapidated world outside. There are some workers from the outside world who know, and some Carrion lucky to have their place among the elite—but there is a sense that some things shouldn't be spoken about, or else they may need to be responsible for it all. While the outside begins to age without any sign of renewal, this compound lives on—untouched, unbothered.

The Volary is set up in levels. The very bottom is where all the businesses that serve the people up above are located. It's where animals are raised and butchered, and where food is prepared before it's brought up to the upper levels. There are numerous common areas, but these can be rented out for any whim of any members of Parliament. Even the businesses themselves can be shuttered for the day, with preferred chefs invited to the upper levels to prepare meals to deal with these circumstances. (Someone from the Congregation can train as a chef in the Cotillion, even if they've never handled food of this nature their entire lives. It's a good job to have, as a number of favored chefs have been elevated to Magpies.)

Beyond the shops is the first level of living quarters for the various members of Parliament. Many Magpie and Rook suites are side by side, though some Rooks prefer not to be housed next to a newcomer and have made their preference known throughout the years. These suites are designed and adapted to its inhabitant's every need, and if someone is born into the family, they inherit their family's suite once someone dies. How is it that there could be space for all the members of Parliament, and so little room outside of the walls of this compound? Consider that yet another question that members of Parliament don't need to concern themselves with.

At the uppermost levels are the suites belonging to the Cardinals. Unless explicitly invited, no one is allowed onto these floors. Numerous Carrion have died throughout the years because they wandered up the wrong set of stairs, knowing that risk was looming over them.

And at the very top is where The Conclave meets. Newly elected members of Parliament visit this room once to receive their powers, only they recall nothing. No one knows what happens within the inner walls of The Conclave. Some have attempted to spy throughout the years. Needless to say, that didn't go well.

The Volary is the home of the pampered, the rich: the people who can ignore the dying world beyond them. Even those inheriting a sense of importance feel as if they've done enough—when they clearly don't do enough. At least those stuck outside may find themselves walking through the heavy front doors of this compound one day. Too bad it's based upon the powers of Parliament, and whether they deign to let someone inside. The only good news is that someone can be buzzed in via their power. That gives a real personal touch, right?

> NO WAY TO LIVE (THE CONGREGATION)

Outside of The Volary, The Aerie is set up in sectors, these sectors acting like rings that move further and further from The Volary up and down throughout The Aerie. Almost by necessity, the rings closer to The Volary are populated by Parliament's favorites. The upkeep around here is better: not pristine, but far from as bad as it gets as someone travels to the outer sectors. Many who have made a name for themselves in the Quarry live in these inner sectors, close to the people of Parliament. Many believe that the inner sectors are still tended to because members of Parliament would hate to face up to the fact of their world dying, and it may not be far from the truth.

In addition to better upkeep, the inner sectors experience less Shrike patrols, with the people allowed to live a life that allows them to remain ignorant to the world around them. They may not be Parliament, but their life in these sectors affords them the feeling of comfort. They don't have to fear their ceiling caving in; they don't have to fear a pipe bursting at an unfortunate moment; they don't have to fear wrongful arrest because they looked at someone the wrong way. It takes a lot for those from the inner sectors to have their lives ruined—but it's not exactly impossible. Of course, this is also where The Cotillion is kept, with numerous buildings and dormitories maintained for its students.

The further and further someone goes away from The Volary, the more life within The Aerie becomes difficult. The worst part is this: no one knows any better. They know the crumbling walls, the faded and peeling wallpaper, the revealed steel beams. They know the frequent Shrike patrols. They know that if they commit a crime, it's on them: they deserve whatever comes their way.

How does someone work in order to get by in these outer sectors? They can help man the bars, because drinking is as much a way of life here as it is back in the regular world. They can help upkeep of The Aerie. Someone can easily enter a trade alongside their compulsory schooling, especially if they aren't special enough for Cotillion training. Electricians are needed throughout. Maintenance of trains is needed throughout. Plumbers are needed throughout. And rations? They come by way of processing plants connected to hydroponic farms. More than a few times throughout the years, these plants have suffered breakdowns, and there have been ration shortages. But don't worry: Parliament continued on eating as if nothing changed outside.

Rations are given out three times a day through numerous rations checkpoints in each sector. These rations are like tasteless protein bars: enough to provide someone the meal they need, a bland mixture of carbohydrates, protein and fat sprinkled with essential nutrients, and little more. Attempts to make them more flavorful throughout the years have failed. Badly. It's probably better that they're bland little morsels. The good news is that they're filling. That may be the only good news.

Life isn't all misery and pain, even if job prospects are largely unfortunate if you're nothing special and the food is literally nothing to talk about. There is a thriving popular culture within The Congregation. There are numerous television shows and movies depicting the distant past, or even a brighter present: one in which the people of The Congregation managed to come together and make their lives better. Oddly enough, these don't tend to act as propaganda. They're just badly written, but done with an eye on hope and perhaps a better life. There are sports and games, though no official leagues have started up, almost certainly because they would compete with the Quarry for airtime.

Members of the Congregation are able to travel anywhere they like within The Aerie thanks to trains, with the only sector the train lines don't access being The Volary. They can peer down over the city, seeing a blurry line of grey all merging together, with people living their lives as best as they can. These trains go near the surface of The Aerie, too, granting someone a close up of the world outside, and reminding them that life could be much, much worse. It could be gone altogether.

> SO SHALL IT BE (QUARRY PREPARATIONS)

With one week remaining until the next Quarry event, preparations continue within The Company's headquarters. Located at the base of the arena out of necessity, The Company's offices are pristine and lifeless in nature. White walls, white ceiling tiles, and white chairs: nothing varies from anything else. How does it remain so surgical at all times? One can only wonder.

Numerous Quarries are being prepared at any given moment, with the televised sensations planned months in advance. Some plans are scrapped depending on competitors. Given the recurrence of Snipes, there are moments where plans need to be changed, where tension needs to be brought in. An arena designer may have to scrap his entire vision for a backup plan.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—The Company is a well-oiled machine. Need some crunch time to make sure a Quarry event is ready on time? The underlings at The Company are used to working long, long days to make it work.

The Quarry this time around is unknown, though there are suspicions of what it might be.

As for those waiting to enter the ring: they're free to live their lives, but many of them are undergoing talent training and preparation for the big event. They're going through interviews, getting sized for any costumes, and being asked to tell their stories. Some of the Snipes may be more than ready for this, while the Guineas will need to figure this out for themselves.

> A WILL TO FIGHT (THE KESTRELS)

Littered throughout the Congregation is a group that's been budding for a while. As much as this world is all they've known, there are some who believe that they deserve something better. The Quarry is unfair, and all throughout the many sectors, there are signs that The Aerie is breaking down and dying, barely keeping it together. These are people who may be afraid, but want to fight despite that fear.

Some of them have made themselves known: bearing a tattoo of a kestrel where others can see. Others hide who they are, but they're waiting. Planning. They strike when they can, but they know that time is running out. There are tiny safehouses throughout, typically through hatches underneath small local businesses that are sympathetic to the kestrels themselves. These people aren't members, but they put themselves at risk every day to protect this movement.

So, they have their sights set on this upcoming Quarry. It's time to bring change to The Aerie—or die trying.

> GOALS FOR THIS LOG

Either through talking ICly or OOCly, we'd like to have the following goals outlined and submitted to our comments below:

What is the Kestrels' plan in all of this? What do they intend to do?
This can include trying to find and meet with Prometheus, just as a note! Overall, we'd like an idea of what they'll be attempting with the upcoming Quarry so that we can work it into the next log.

What is the theme for the next Quarry arena?
We'd like to have some idea of a theme, as well as some submitted puzzles! We know that we're the kings of Vague Ass Puzzles, so feel free to be vague. We just want to give our Quarry participants something to look forward to.

Are there any other factors we need to consider?
Parliament upheaval? Plans to find out what Parliament is doing? Anything else that might come to mind? This is more loose!

We're giving a loose deadline of DECEMBER 7 with the next log going up on DECEMBER 12.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to part one of our year-end AU event! We meant for this to be primarily be a description log to start play, especially since we feel that most of our critical information is in our Planning Post. We suggest that you do any necessary planning there for your select crews there, as well as use the "DM" system on Warbler for private stuff.

Of course, our questions thread is still open.

Since it's come up in the past: since all characters are in the AU, please feel free to do a catch-all post of anything you might want! Flashbacks! Anything open prompt-wise! Go wild with this stuff. This is always available during events, but we wanted to be explicitly clear here given the nature of this event.

As for mod-run social media, we have a post here on the network where we'll be steadily adding things throughout the event!

Our November Activity Check goes live on DECEMBER 1. AC for the month of December will be check-in only. It's a weird holiday season, but it will undoubtedly still be stressful for all of us.

Our next reserves will open on NOVEMBER 23 and our next application period will open on DECEMBER 1. We intend for all new or returning applicants to be kept outside of the AU. We have a special plotting opportunity and NPC ready for this scenario to help people integrate. However, if you have a friend who's apping to tap into the AU, let us know—we're not 100% married to our plans, but we worried about any new players apping into such a convoluted scenario after so much plotting has already taken place.

That's all for now. Have fun and for those of you who celebrate, have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃

baltimores: (01; stop it)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-12-02 10:26 am (UTC)(link)
Bye, Kyna.

[ His voice is soft enough, almost like the words are more for him than for her. He can't place what he's feeling or why, just that there's some air of finality to it - and he's never had to deal with that in his life.

Things always shifted and changed and it never mattered. This time it feels like it should, and there's what might be worry underneath: that something is being lost; that this isn't going to go away for him like everything always does.

As long as it's only the one time. He can deal with it. ]
baltimores: (03; not my friend)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-12-02 10:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ He raises his eyebrows at the question, glances at her through his peripheral vision. Sees that she's actually turned to face him, now, and between the part where she'd come to find him and what she's asking... There's something else to this.

Hell if he knows what, though. He looks back up at the storm. ]


He ran.

[ He shuts his eyes for a second, exhales. It's still a good memory. Fresh. He opens his eyes again and turns to look at her, face impassive, tone matter of fact. ]

I mean, you see a guy in the act. No getting out of that, right? Except he thought he could, so he took off. I chased after him. Easy collar, open and shut; not gonna wait for him to pop up later. Guy takes a wrong turn, looks over his shoulder at the wrong time, runs straight into a wall. That did a good job of stopping him.

[ It had done a good job of really getting his own blood rushing, too: the moment of dawning realization that you're about to do something you've been wanting to do for ages and are only just now getting the chance. A spike, from the typical level of adrenaline just pursuing had given him.

It maybe shows a little. ]


Caught up to him easy enough then. His nose was already bleeding and broken, which, yeah, that'll happen. Then I just... I dunno, grabbed him by the back of the head, slammed his face in again. Make a point of it.

[ He shrugs. Some things he just doesn't have the words for. His own feelings tend to fall under that category a lot; translating gut instinct into something verbal has always been tough. ]

The leg was all me. Don't run. It's a pretty clear message.
scythias: <b>DNT</b> (WBAZWYn)

[personal profile] scythias 2020-12-02 01:32 pm (UTC)(link)
If you're so curious, you should come down here more and then you'd see why I come here.

( even if andy knows that her coming down here to pick up idle chatter and gossip isn't uncommon, she isn't just going to admit that to him or anyone. )

What's the excitement of never seeing how the other half lives?
scythias: <b>DNT</b> (5irNBqF)

[personal profile] scythias 2020-12-02 01:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Disappointing.

( she looks him up and down, making sure to imply that that word doesn't just apply to his lack of gossip. he's really not that bad but it's entertaining for her to try and rile him up.

he doesn't rile easily which is why she likes to poke and prod him. )


So, what have you been up to lately if it isn't keeping an ear out for something interesting?
ishotyouuu: (shit-eating grin)

[personal profile] ishotyouuu 2020-12-02 03:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Luckily, "loud asshole with no off switch" is one of the kinder things that's been said about Wade, so if Ellie had ever made that sentiment known he would most likely take it as a compliment. Not that he wouldn't have otherwise-- he'd long since learned to take the various insults and jibes as a badge of honor. It was just something you had to endure as a snipe, after all, and if you let on that their barbs had struck home, it just gave them more ammunition to sink the knife in deeper.

Besides, he likes Ellie, and not just due to the convenience of never having been in the Quarry with her. She's a scrappy kid with a good heart and a crazy accuracy with a bow, and while Wade would never admit this in public (except to possibly gain popularity among the masses-- you never knew what worked), she reminds him a lot of himself when he was her age.

He watches her approach with a delighted grin, slotting himself against the wall so that he's shoulder-to-shoulder with her. He makes a show of watching the couple's animated gesticulations, tapping his chin thoughtfully with a finger as if their confrontation is a complicated mathematical puzzle. Finally he rolls one shoulder in a shrug.

"Probably something deep and philosophical and appropriately bourgeoise. Y'know, the kind of thing that we as glorified fighting dogs can't possibly understand. Maybe she caught him playing strip search with a shrike, who knows. He looks like the type of guy who'd enjoy a few fingers in the ass--I mean, look at the way he's dressed."
withmeinparadise: (09.)

[personal profile] withmeinparadise 2020-12-02 03:38 pm (UTC)(link)
You bring that shit in here, you're starting trouble.

[ The other Shrikes have some shame about it. He's always assumed it was shame, anyway--they at least know to stop showing off when the mask's off. Burton, it's hard to see why he even bothers with the mask when you stop and really look at him. ]

Stick it in your goddamn pocket.
withmeinparadise: (29.)

[personal profile] withmeinparadise 2020-12-02 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
we could set a place at the table for you.
withmeinparadise: (s226)

[personal profile] withmeinparadise 2020-12-02 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Reyes owes me money.

[ With the air of a man who doesn't expect to get it back, a debt long since moved from annoying to funny. ]

Most of these guys, they're tough. Lotta muscle. But you sneak up on one of 'em while they're sleeping with a good-sized rock, all the muscle in the world ain't gonna save 'em. That's the kinda shit you gotta do.
ishotyouuu: (The Look)

[personal profile] ishotyouuu 2020-12-02 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Aww inviting me to sit at the big kids' table? You shouldn't have.

Does that mean I'll be seeing the illustrious Nate tonight as well?
delayable: (ag4_213)

[personal profile] delayable 2020-12-02 04:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Posed? Posed for what?

( for a painting? for pictures? or is ephemera calling him a poser? gotta be clearer, man. )

You asking me to pose for something for you? Didn't know you were into that.
requiemshark: (002)

[personal profile] requiemshark 2020-12-02 04:27 pm (UTC)(link)
It's my party trick. Guess news hasn't gotten around.

[ Or rather, it's his one party trick that Ephemera actually enjoys doing. He can stand and scowl in the corner, get drunk and people watch, and that's okay because apparently moody artist is his brand now. But he can lose himself in sketching, in painting, and that feels closer to something real. Something worth doing.

He smiles, a touch warmer than before. ]


I draw people. Or paint them, if we're really going there.
selfimage: — ʙᴏɴᴅᴏᴄ — (Love theme.)

[personal profile] selfimage 2020-12-02 05:19 pm (UTC)(link)
My, my—there's no need to be defensive.

[ there's an easy tone to his voice as he floats to the opposite side of her, as if his feet are barely touching the ground. ]

Someone other than me might call it telling.
delayable: (ag4_352)

[personal profile] delayable 2020-12-02 06:38 pm (UTC)(link)
You want to paint me?

( he's probably not the first person that's been asked but he's going to pretend that he is and be cocky about. he can't help himself, he just thinks anyone would be lucky to want to paint him. )

You'd do that right here, in the middle of a party? That's some trick.

( penny would be too damn distracted. )
selfimage: — ᴍᴄᴋᴇʟᴠɪᴇ — ("Heroes.")

[personal profile] selfimage 2020-12-02 07:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Thor is certainly the epitome of privileged, but useful in a conversation like this. ]

For all of us.

[ yes, a pain in the ass is definitely what he mirrors. ]

Not that I'm suggesting you cater directly to his tastes, but I find that certain subtleties may sooth his more ... [ the drink twists in his wrist. ] ... Shall we say—complainy tendencies? Not that you'd want to deal with that, of course.

[ but he'd be dealing with it, anyway. ]
scythias: <b>DNT</b> (werssdfwetwer)

[personal profile] scythias 2020-12-02 08:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Telling? Of what? Of the fact that I enjoy seeing what the other half is doing?

( she doesn't see anything wrong about that. she's been down here before and she'll come down here again. )

Some people would call your insistence on insinuating yourself into other people's business a little annoying. Not me, though, I think it's endearing.
rehandle: (100)

[personal profile] rehandle 2020-12-02 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
I may put in an appearance.
evocation: (162bottledskies)

[personal profile] evocation 2020-12-02 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay.

[It's the kind of vague, general advice she could get from anyone. You're small, stay sneaky and be brutal. It isn't 'Reyes has a fucked up left knee you can target'.]

Is this like... a conflict of interest for you? Should I even be asking?
rehandle: (264)

[personal profile] rehandle 2020-12-02 09:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[ John takes a knee and Stephen feels the sigh welling up inside, holds it there for long enough to convert it into soundless breath and let it go. This is why he'd chosen him. Easy to mold. But good gods if the molding hadn't sometimes been too easy - easy enough that he hadn't taken a more challenging route to grind out bad habits in the process.

It's far too late now. Every silver lining has its cloud.

Smiling, he puts his hand to John's shoulder first, squeezes briefly - good man - then cups him by the back of the neck and base of his skull to guide him gently back to standing.

Once there, if he remains pliant enough, Stephen stretches that guiding arm across to grasp him by the opposite shoulder, step in until he's got him in a fleeting one-armed hug. ]


I know.

[ He does. For all the sycophants in this place, there's nobody less likely than John to knowingly step out of line with Stephen's wants, needs and expectations. ]
selfimage: — ᴘɪᴄʜᴇʟʟɪ — (Default)

[personal profile] selfimage 2020-12-02 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm glad you find my company pleasurable, as you now seem to have it for a little while longer.

[ and he falls into pace with her, tilting his head back. ]

Since you're just seeing and all.

[ though for him, calling them "the other half" is stretching the definition somewhat. ]
nonstopnarcissist: AOU (Break a tall glass door)

[personal profile] nonstopnarcissist 2020-12-02 11:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Part of the magic of performance is a suspension of disbelief. Letting yourself get immersed in the illusion, the fantasy- Tony hasn't leaned into that too terribly hard since the delightful moment he realized there was more to Natasha than biting wit and grace. After their earlier moment of uncomfortable honesty?

Letting himself fall back into the performance scrapes raw and ragged against the gnarled tangle of emotion in his chest. He doesn't flinch so much as go carefully still, jaw working against everything unsaid.

He knows, has known, continues to know that she will not trust him past a certain point- no one does. No one but Bucky, it seems, and that's a grace he doesn't know how to hold or treat kindly. It comes with the rank, the territory, and it's- he's tipped his hand too much. Been too honest, too forthright, and overstepped grossly in the process. For a moment he's still and silent in all the ways he normally isn't, hanging in the carefully curated calculation of her projected care.

It's perormative.

It's a satisfactory performance.

It'd be rude to not respond in kind.

One long, soft exhale, the last sighs of whatever fragile understanding they had beyond the usual before he closes the door on that notion entirely. Understood. Here he shall not reach or tread, boundary established, made, respected. When he urns his head to meet her gaze- the press smile is on. The small, secretive one, like he's conspiring with whoever's on the other end. "You do know how I appreciate efficiency."

Like it's a joke, and it is. Like the earlier heart to heart didn't happen and- it's easier that way, isn't it? They both play their parts and maybe they pull this thing off.

Maybe.

He passes along the moisturizer and palms the kit he uses for his cuticles and nails, keeping them neatly buffed and trimmed, the nailbeds oiled.
nonstopnarcissist: AOU (Default)

[personal profile] nonstopnarcissist 2020-12-02 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)
No more or less than usual.

[ It is what it is, everything is under control, there is no war in The Volary- mostly because there isn't- and there's never anything to worry about. ]

The idea is something that'll stand out- and something that'll interlock like- [ He overlaps his hands, motioning to the space where he'll be getting the work done. right in the webbing between thumb and pointer finger. ]

Macig up like a BFF heart necklace but- ink.
nonstopnarcissist: CW (a father rose)

[personal profile] nonstopnarcissist 2020-12-02 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Tony holds his hands up in a gesture of pure, disarmed innocence. He'd never dare to imply that his betters are a pedantic handful-

He likes his life, such as it is, and would rather keep things easy and uncomplicated. ]


If you've got anything in particular in mind that'd make both our lives a little less...complicated or thunderous, I am all ears.
laserbeams: (pic#14429668)

[personal profile] laserbeams 2020-12-02 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He knows damn well that Bucky doesn't like parties, but what matters to him is his behavior in front of the other guests. He can be as cranky as he wants with John as long as he impresses everyone else.

He watches his interaction with the older lady closely - and, satisfied with how it played out. He gets a hint of the deadpan, but it's not easy to notice. ]


Attaboy. [ Like he's a good, well-behaved pet, or a child. John's working on being less condescending to people outside of Parliament, but he's not doing a very good job of it.

He fills Bucky's glass with expensive wine to the point where it's nearly overflowing. ]
There you go. Maybe it'll loosen you up a little. [ It probably won't but it's worth a try. ]
laserbeams: (pic#14429549)

[personal profile] laserbeams 2020-12-02 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He grins, taking swings at the kid like he's some champion boxer and not a pathetic old man getting his thrills from an unfair fight with a half-starved civilian.

John's soft leather gloves grazing against his collarbone where his neckline ended were probably the finest thing he'd ever felt, worth more than his entire wardrobe put together. He should thank me, John thinks, for the privilege of being ended by the refined hand of a Cardinal instead of being torn apart by the beasts in the slums.

Somewhere at the back of his mind was the memory of wandering those streets, lost and alone. Of being really, truly hungry and holding out his hands for half-eaten nutrient bars.

That child is nearly a century gone and yet John still sees him in the eyes of every pathetic commoner Amos brings him. He sees what he could have been, and he hates it, and he hits harder. Every time he gets some small joy in ending what he could have become as if this one will finally be the one to end that nagging insecurity of his, but it always comes back.

The kid squeaks out something that sounds like 'why', but John cuts him off. ]
Shh. It's alright. You can trust me. Don't worry about a thing.

[ It's not easy to make those words have any impact on someone who's clearly in pain. Fifty years ago he wouldn't have managed it. Now it's tiring, but it works. The kid even smiles a little, relaxing against Amos's grip as John takes a few more swings. ]

God, I'm out of shape. [ He pants, already on the threshold of being winded as he backs up a few steps to rest on the edge of a chair. He's still got enough muscle to look intimidating, but the party-every-night lifestyle he's let himself slip into these last few years hasn't done wonders for his stamina. ] I need a moment. You can take a few swings, if you want to. Just don't - you know.

[ Don't kill. He wants to be the one to land the last blow. But he won't say 'kill' out loud. That tended to scare 'em out of their stupor. ]
laserbeams: (pic#14429555)

[personal profile] laserbeams 2020-12-02 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The busboy does a double take when he's called. He's there to clear tables and clean up, not to wait on anybody, but he knows enough to listen to the guests regardless of what they're requesting if he wants to keep his job.

"Did you need some thing, sir?" he says when he approaches the table, and to his credit he does it without stammering.

John looks him over. Wiry, but he could hold his own in a fight if he was scrappy enough. He'd do. He gives a slight nod in Murphy's direction, not wanting to clue their hapless target onto the fact that's something's off. ]