ximilialog | ONE NIGHT ONLY

Entry tags:

ONE NIGHT ONLY

CHARACTERS: everyone (including new characters!)
LOCATION: ximusic + common room
DATE: night, october 1st
CONTENT: come by for a night of good music, good food, and better drinks
WARNINGS: none for now, will warn as needed

I love rock 'n' roll

An announcement goes up the day before: Murderface: The Band: The Show. Location and time are printed beneath along with a promise of a "special surprise." Arrive early and you can catch the current members of the band warming up or happy to talk someone's ear off. At the promised time, the lights dim but for those on the stage. Gwen's drumming gets inside one's bones; Wei Wuxian's dizi belongs on a stage with Lizzo; Lan Xichen alternately opens with the deep, tranquility of a guqin or arms himself with a xiao; and Newt…Newt is Newt, tearing the stage on his electric guitar. As a treat, he also provides the vocals to a few songs. There is even space left for the band's honorary member should he choose to join in.

The band plays a mix of covers and original music. Even after their show ends, the music doesn't. Gwen and Newt rigged a music player and the playlist—curated to include something for every taste—plays into the early morning. The music room's instruments are available for anyone who fancies a turn. And for those who do not have or should not be trusted with instruments, clap, stomp, dance, sing along—and enjoy the night.

Pour some sugar on me

In the common room, just outside the Ximusic room, courtesy of their ever enterprising (and not-so-artificial) AI comes the promised "surprise": food and drinks, each hailing from an Orber's home world. Even the new Orbers are represented! This might be their favorite treat, a famous dish, a representative drink… What they have in common: each one says "home" to someone.

There is enough to share with friends (or hoard for yourself if this is you.) So eat, drink, and be merry (though maybe not too merry; the alcohol proof of a few bottles can double as fuel.)

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I. STAGE PREP
"BALLROOM BLITZ", SWEET

(limited to two tag-ins.)

〈 long before the doors officially open, gwen is in the music room, running sound tests, checking on the lights, and making sure certain bandmates do not decide to stick something they should not in their mouths. (they know who they are.)

busy as she is, she may take notice of comings-and-goings. if so, someone might find themselves being volunteered and pushed on stage. there, the instruction is one of two: 1) stand on a marked spot in order for gwen (crouching comfortably on the ceiling) to position the lights; or 2) speak into the microphone(s) while gwen moves from floor to walls to ceiling to make sure the sound is perfect. a spotlight, a stage, and an (harried) audience of one. nothing too frightening. 〉

II. CROWD WORK
"LOLA MONTEZ", VOLBEAT

〈 behind the drums, gwen cuts a different figure. intense, focused. she plays with power and a solid groove, and then segues seamlessly into a more subtle handling to suit the ballad covers.

on the floor, she seems smaller. she checks the playlist (and is happy to take requests depending on availability of songs); she is easily stopped for questions about the band; and she hovers near the food (packing away a considerable amount for a girl who clocks in at 125lbs when wet). but she is on the quieter side, considerably more quiet than has been her wont, preferring to hang back against the wall than mingle with the crowd.

the exception is when she gets her hands on a box of hot, sweet, and flaky direct-from-new-york-city cronuts, which gwen snags. other people can have cronuts—everyone deserves a cronut in their life—but it is her friends who get the privilege of direct delivery. 〉

III. WILDCARD
"THIS IS ME TRYING", TAYLOR SWIFT

〈 feel free to wildcard with discussion or pm for a personalized starter. 〉

... AND LET THE DRUMMER TELL YOUR HEART WHAT TO DO

（ he shows up late, just before the show begins, and lingers near the back in the lee of long shadows, his eyes the faint, luminescent red of the sharingan in the dark.

he does not appear to be enjoying himself (though admittedly, with itachi, it's difficult to tell one way or another). everything is too much, too loud, and there are too many people crammed into a small space for him to truly be at ease, but he is here to support gwen in her endeavours. should anyone approach him during a lull between sets? they will get a nod, but as to conversation — that's on them. ）

I'VE LEARNED THAT DOVES AND RAVENS FLY THE SAME

（ he can be found after the show, occupying one of the plush chairs of the common room. there is a plate of assorted treats beside him that he seems to be absentmindedly working his way through, but his attention is on a chess board before him. the last person he played this form of chess with is gone, and while he was not near enough with the man to miss him, it has made him pensive.

if an orber approaches, he will glance up at them in assessment, red eyes inscrutable. after a moment, however — ）

Would you like a game?

Edited 2022-10-01 14:11 (UTC)

（ itachi drifts in close to her like a pale ghost, exuding the energy of one significantly out of their comfort zone. this is not his sort of scene and he isn't exactly trying to hide it — at least not any more than he conceals all his emotions — but gwen knows him considerably better than most. it does not change the fact that he is present (and didn't even send a clone in his stead!)

mildly, with a gesture to the playlist set-up she has going — ）

Do you have anything with a koto?

（ aka... quieter. ）

Koto… 〈 recollection comes quickly. gwen snaps her fingers. 〉 Zither class, right? Should have something, yeah.

〈 “should” here meaning “do.” when gwen and newt were plotting out the playlist for after their set, she specifically scoured the pile of supplies every drop for recordings, cds, usbs, anything that might have a scrap of music. luckily, she scored a couple with performances by traditional japanese instruments.

bringing up the playlist, she scours through it until she finds what she is looking for. she brings it to the top of the “play next.” 〉

It’s up next! 〈 she raises her voice to be heard more comfortably over the noise. 〉 Gotta wait for this one to finish.

Edited 2022-10-01 14:56 (UTC)

● ● ● ROCK & ROLL

[ indeed, on the day of the concert, the doors to the north wing open (as they have done more often after the summer) and it is not just viveca, looking just as human as she used to be, once, in an unassuming jeans-and-leather-jacket combo; but also by her side, degar, with his usual cargo pants with socks and sandals, carrying a well-loved lute in his arms. he's beaming, and viveca looks mostly endeared by his enthusiasm for the event.

degar does not play with the band the entire evening, but joins in for some particular numbers, even giving one solo performance, strumming his lute with the air of an expert musician — his singing is no less well-polished, and the song he's chosen is, well, a real hit.

meanwhile, viveca sticks to sitting among the audience, clapping politely between songs, but seeming to enjoy more the amount of fun the band is having than the actual music. at points, she gets up to go over to where all the snacks and drinks are gathered, picking one up and leaving it in front of the one whose home it is from with a slight smile, before walking on; best not talk when there's a concert going, after all.

they both stick around even after the concert itself is over, and leave together around midnight. ]

( note: your character may talk to either of them, or both! just specify so and write it into your response. )

〈 gwen had invited both, but even with degar's unfailing enthusiasm and viveca's amused promise, she had not been sure they might show. lots to do. not a whole lot of time.

despite the blues period her mood has fallen into, gwen smiled to see them.

degar is the easiest to reach; they shared a stage for a good chunk of time. still seated behind her drums, she plays a quick, little swell on the cymbal to get his attention. playfully, she makes a face. 〉

I think we should just let you have the entire stage next time. 〈 he has the presence for it no doubt. never let degar and mary jane watson meet.

viveca, she catches later, the box of cronuts she had asked for so long ago still warm in her arms. 〉

Serious question, 〈 she begins, not seriously at all, 〉 was it as, more or less chaotic than you were expecting considering who all was up there?

Thank you.

（ after a moment — ）

You don't need to shout. I can read lips.

（ because of course there's nothing this asshole can't do except show emotion and be nice to his brother??? oop. ）

〈 drily, 〉 Why wouldn't you.

〈 and remembering something— 〉

Wait! Come here!

〈 waving for him to follow, gwen navigates back outside to the common room and to a table. she drops down, and pops right back up, this time holding a box of pastries she had secretly secreted away before others could eat them. she beams. 〉

Cronuts!

（ he ain't one to whom gettin' one's hands dirty is a mystery. gene is a helper — just about everywhere he goes, he's keen an' eager besides to dive right in an' he don't need much preamble about it. this place is fantastic as his brother's penny novels an' twice over as strange, but he ain't gonna mope about it. best way forward, after all, is through.

so, gwen gets a polite nod, an' gene leans in to examine what she's doin' with a light she looks to be about to haul up onto the ceiling in some manner he ain't yet divined. ）

Ma'am. I was told you're runnin' this shindig? （ boy howdy does that alabama twang kick like a goddamn mule, paintin' him as both antiquated an' deep southern in the tick of one heartbeat. ） Any chance you need another pair'a hands?

Edited 2022-10-01 23:44 (UTC)

〈 ma'am. ma'am. feeling like she aged ten, fifteen, twenty years—she's dead, she's buried, she can see the gravestone—gwen slowly lowers the massive light she is holding. her expression reflects true pain. 〉

Don't— Don't call me ma'am.

〈 does she look that bad? sure, she still needs a bath. she was planning on one after she finished here. but surely, she does not look old. does she?

two things become readily apparent while she rapidly goes through an(other) existential crisis. one, her accent immediately identifies her as from new york—though hers is nowhere near as strong as his drawl. second, the lights are either lighter than they look or she is a lot stronger than she looks. 〉

Just… 〈 she flaps a hand vaguely in his direction. 〉 Just stay there. Don't move.

〈 bending her knees, she jumps—directly onto the ceiling. she hangs by the pads of her fingers for a split second before flipping upside down. on her feet again, she stands as easily on the ceiling as she had been on the floor. 〉

（ it's the familiarity of the accent that does it — softens out his expression just a touch. ）

Happy to call you by your name just as soon as I have one, Queens.

（ it's said with just the faintest trace of cheek, plucky an' playful. except then he he pushes his hat back a touch on his head to ... watch as she... does who with the where what now?

his eyebrows disappear under the brim of his hat, an' christ o'lordy but he's feelin' a bit dizzy lookin' up at her in a way he ain't never felt lookin' down outta a skytrain. how in god's good name on a sunday —

then he's just starin', jaw agape. he can almost hear aunt ysobel tellin' him he's gonna swallow a fly, but he can't so much as bring himself to snap his teeth shut. gene, you see, used as he is to ghosts an' sundry, is still from a world where folks are plain normal. ain't no such thing as feats of strength or stickin' to walls or suchnot, leastwise not outta the pages of a comic rag.

so, he's doin' his best damn river trout on dry land expression, because he sure as hell ain't findin' words for this. ）

〈 ah, the shock and awe of someone who has never seen a woman stick to a ceiling like a spider. 😌 a few years as spider-woman and the amazement kind of faded. turns out she kind of missed it. it feels almost like stepping back in time to when her powers were still new and scary. an incredible gift.

gwen shakes herself from her thoughts. now isn't the time for introspection or any kind of self-realization. dropping to a crouch, she starts to fix the lights to the ceiling with webs. 〉

You're doing great, Alabama! 〈 she shoots him a thumbs up. finding it is her turn to be cheeky— 〉 But maybe you should close that jaw before it's permanently stuck that way!

You know, that's a wild assertion from a dame who just hopped up on the ceilin' like she's hangin' an angel on a Christmas tree.

（ never let it be said he don't regain his footin' quick as you please. he jumped out of tin cans for a livin', gene is an adaptable man. ）

Not bad. I liked your performance.

[ It was a little too *punk* for her taste, but she can never say no to a teenage rebel's melody. She makes the comment by the food table, nursing a can of beer in hand. ]

Can't say it's my game of choice—

[ Majima takes a look at the board, then at Itachi, calculating his chances. If the homeless man handed him his ass back on a plate in a game of shogi, going against Itachi in a game he got little experience in is a ride to defeat. In short, it's a challenge.

Oh, that makes it fun. ]

I'm in. [ He declares ] Just don't ya even try goin' easy on me.

〈 an angel on a christmas tree. new goal: find a way to stick him in her pocket and keep him around for all the down south, corn grits aphorisms. 〉

Anything's possible here, man. You could swallow a fly, and that's worse. You never know if it's an actual person.

〈 giving the light one final tug to make sure it is secure, gwen lets herself drop. she lands next to gene lightly enough to make an acrobat cry. she is back to her comfort attire: her zip-up spider-woman hoodie, a pair of shorts, and her blue-soled black chucks. host of an alien goo that can mimic anything she sees or imagines, and she keeps going back to the classics. her hair has started growing out of her undercut above her left ear.

corner of her mouth tilted upward, she holds out her hand. 〉

Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman. I also answer to Gwen.

（ he drifts behind her, and once she pulls out the box of pastries ... best he can do is a raised eyebrow. he may have a sweet tooth, but his idea of sweet does not seem all that compatible with most other people he's met, and these look... sugar-coated. ）

What is it?

（ maybe the most offensive question in the history of questions??? maybe?? ）

What would you consider your game of choice?

（ he's familiar with a broad array, many courtesy viveca herself. chess is only a stopgap, something he's playing because it's here. ）

I don't play strategy games to go easy on anyone, rest assured.

（ look, he's mr 'thinks ten years ahead' strategy nerd. he's. good at this dumb stuff. ）

Donuts with the flaky interior of a croissant.

〈 she points out the only cronut that is not decorated with icing and spices, slices of fruit, chocolate or nuts. 〉

I got the plain one for you.

〈 because if he throws a cronut into the trash like he did the corn dog, she might actually have to kill him. honor-bound as a new yorker. 〉

（ lordy, but the way his expression twists into a sympathetic grimace at the impact. light as she lands, puts his knees to achin' somethin' fierce. ）

'Spider-Woman'... lord, that's like one of them comic book heroes, huh? Is it on account of the, ah...

（ he lays his hand palm-up in the air, mimes a little figure walking across it with the other, and then flips his hand upside down to indicate a ceiling. he ain't got a clue how else to call it. pantomime concluded, he sort of gives her a sheepish look. ）

My name's Gene, by the way. Gene Hicks.

[Dante has never, in his life, eaten a cronut. Donuts, yeah, he's had those—they're cheap and easy to find and easy to eat on the go, and he's always loved the strawberry-flavored kinds. But cronuts? He can't say he sees what all the hype's about, but he never could resist the siren call of strawberry icing, so he snags one from the box and takes a bite.

And just stands there looking like he's having a goddamn epiphany.]

These are maybe the best donuts I've ever had in my entire life, and I've had plenty. [He bites off another huge chunk, makes a delighted noise before he swallows.] Where'd you get this?

〈 she hums a little "mm" in consideration. 〉 I am almost positive I exist as a comic book somewhere.

〈 casually leaning up against that fourth wall. 〉

Gonna take a wild guess and say you're new. So, welcome to the Ximilia. 〈 she sweeps a hand around them room. 〉 It's all weird from here on out.

〈 excuse, she is almost "taylor swift voice: feeling twenty-two." 〉

Thanks. 〈 a little pause follows before gwen motions to the woman. 〉 Recent, right?

〈 while she hardly knows everyone, living in a limited space between missions, faces become familiar. and she already met one very fascinated guy today. 〉

[ her first answer is a chuckle; her second, a wry, ]

Actually, I think less so. I'd almost call it "organised".

[ as in, organised chaos, because nothing else would come from this group of people... not that she minds. they all seemed to have a great time — that's all she really cares about. ]

〈 first of all, yes, they are that good. 😌 secondly, 〉 Not donuts. Cronuts. Put some respect on the name. 〈 🤨 〉

These, 〈 hiking the box a little higher, 〉 came straight from Soho. But nothing comes into the station without Viveca.

〈 looking around, gwen points out a young woman with red, curly hair speaking with another orber. 〉

I asked her if we could get something from everyone's home worlds, and she went above and beyond as usual.

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ONE NIGHT ONLY

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itachi uchiha | ota

crowd work;

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special guests (viveca & degar)

● ● ● ROCK & ROLL

you know it's both 😌

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stage prep;

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crowd work

chess

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crowd work

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