[MINGLE] OPEN TO ALL | Movies, Music, and Mario Kart (Movie Night!)

[groupiedrifter]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE! Post yourselves some top levels!
LOCATION: The Mess Hall
DATE: a few days after the mission
CONTENT: We all could use some TLC, right?
WARNINGS: Nothing serious! People can warn on their threads as they go.

Welcome to our usual little movie night! It's been a crazy last... week and a half? Something like that. Once everyone has settled in and things aren't quite so exhausting to face, Newton proceeds to collect new goodies for yet another sleep-over in the mess hall. For anyone new, they'll find the place is suddenly full of pillows, of sheets and things spread out to do around the tables. Tonight's a triple feature, the final movie of the night being one that definitely isn't good to watch if you value sleep, orbers.



But first, food!

And tonight's theme, carefully selected with love, is Mediterranean foods. Baklava is the obvious one, but there are plenty of others to choose from. Armenian Losh Kebabs! Egyptian Lentils with Rice! Lebanese Hummus! So, so much olive oil! And the reason behind all of this very themed, far more uniformed food might have something to do with the sign that Newton hung behind the food station:



Ah, yes. It seems Andy has been given all rights to the choices on the table. Or at the very least, Newt tried his damned best to cater to her preferences for apparently saving his life at some point. It's the least he can do, right?

(Also, before you ask: yes, there is booze, and there always will be.)

Onto the cinema!



The first movie is an easy one — Back to the Future! A fun little affair, nothing too serious, and always a classic. But would you be surprised to find the next movie staring one of our very own? Rita Farr shines in Spartacus 452, some silly little late 70's, early 80's space movie she had partaken it, it seems... Either way, she looks gorgeous, huh? Total babe alert. And the last movie? That's saved for the very end of the night, with a warning that it's not for the faint-hearted. A scary movie, straight out of Japan: The Grudge. Who doesn't love a ghost story? Just don't go blaming anyone if you have a hard time sleeping tonight! Or if you hear things that you worry might be some ghoulish apparition; the Ximilia isn't haunted, c'mon.

Boo! Ha, it's just a little cleaning roomba. Gotcha.

But before the scary movie, more things of note:



The tea table, joined by a shorter, traditionally set-up tea table, is chockful of different types of teas. It had seemed to be a pretty decent hit the first time, so why not bring it back? Only this time, Sabriel has volunteered her magical tea pot that she'd purchased many missions ago; with this particular pot, you may brew the most perfect batch of whatever tea your heart desires. Relax, enjoy yourself...! Especially before —



Ah, yes. Mario Kart. The best way to ruin friendships. There's an old, very used Wii sitting beside a television. Mario Kart is already there, ready to go, press button to start and all of that jazz. Try not to cry at any sight of Toad on the select screen; we're all a bit tender about Hivawei still, aren't we? If Mario Kart isn't your style, the Wii does apparently have a complimentary disc for Wii Sports. Please, don't break the television with the remote. Pretty, pretty please...

But that's not all! A very old, scratched up, but functional Sega Genesis sits beside the Wii. Maybe there are a few games in the pile you might be interested in? Or you could be totally predictable and uncool and just go straight for Sonic. We know everyone does.

... This is gonna be pretty weird for you before-television-types, won't it?



Finally, a little light-hearted group activity. Newton is quick to approach a decorated corner of the mess hall where a small 'stage' has been built, set up with a guitar and a microphone from the Ximusic Room. It's open to all for their karaoke or music-playing needs, but not before Newton fulfills his next very important task:

"This one's a belated birthday present to a special member of our team!"

He proceeds to play a ditty, one that launches right into:

Watch on YouTube

Just for you, Yelena. Happy Birthday, ma'am.

(And yes, the birthday calendar is as available as ever. Add more birthdays to it!)

There is a table down from the karaoke where a polaroid camera sits — and a paper that says 'PHOTO STATION'. It's clear what the purpose is if you look at the wall, which is already collecting some polaroids on it: it's a place for people to take snapshots together with the old camera so that they, too, can have a little keepsake. After all, so many of them have come and gone... it'd be good to have something to remember each other by, in case someone left. Why not take a photo together? Enjoy the moment.

Congrats on making it another month, everyone.

Comments

[peasant]

[ oh. caught in the act.

embarrassment doesn't spill over into her face, this time. only the slightest blink gives her away, processing that anyone had noticed it — noticed her — at all, rather than be drowned out among hushed conversations and overly loud sound cues on screen. ]

What kind of person would laugh at something like that?

[ the muscles in her mouth spasm, faintly, with something conspiratorial. amusement is better than steeping herself in fear, in a life where it always lurks in the shadows, far beyond any make-believe story played out on a screen. the true horror, she supposes, isn't a fictional tale but what her own life has become.

she sheds the faux-innocence with a shrug of her shoulders, sipping idly. ]

I've been told I'm too morbid.

[ staring down your own mortality among soldiers has that effect on your humor, when you're keen to find any means of distracting yourself from the bloodshed and blisters in your boots, but — as it turns out — not everyone had appreciated her coping mechanism. then again, they hadn't appreciated her existence in their ranks at all, unless it was to have a suitable scapegoat or target at hand.

she doesn't sound quite so bothered, only casually resigned. in the grand scheme of things, morbid hadn't been the worst insult turned against her. ]

[dispassioned]

Being morbid is more common than most people want to think about.

[It's a fairly standard coping mechanism. Hospital workers could have incredibly morbid senses of humor as a way of dealing with stress. It can seem callous to people who don’t have to deal with death and disease all day everyday.

But that’s not what he focuses on as he continues speaking.]

But it’s pretty over the top, isn’t it? If you ignore the film's manipulation tactics and just think about it…nobody bends like that. It’s absurd.

[A successful horror movie relies a lot atmosphere, and therefore, on the technical side of things. Music, lighting, camera angles, special effects, editing. Those are all used to evoke feelings of fear, suspense or even disgust, in the audience. But if you can look past all that, what you’re left with is pretty silly.]

[peasant]

Sounds like jealousy over your rusty joints.

[ with a lift of a brow, she eyes him over the rim of her cup. admittedly, she doesn't possess the same critical eye he does, not prone to the same penchant for analysis she's witnessed more in durasts than any other grisha — but she peers back at the film, all the same, narrowing her eyes as though she might convince them to see it through the same lens. ridiculous is ... one word for it. ludicrously grotesque is another.

one has to wonder if whoever dreamed this up wasn't subjected to horrific nightmares. ( kindly, she doesn't point out every person here who looks like they'll be suffering the same, tonight, as they curl back from the screen. ) ]

You don't think anyone here could bend like that? [ a spark of amusement lights her eyes. ] After everything we've seen?

[ if there can be mushroom people, she's not completely discounting the possibility of "orber who can dislocate all of their limbs for flexibility's sake." ]

[dispassioned]

[Actually…she has a point. He inclines his head slightly to the side in acknowledgment.]

Ah. You’re right. Jake could do it.

[That dog is stretchy as fuck.]

But in a world like mine, where this movie was made, where magic doesn’t exist, it’s not possible.

[peasant]

[ does it count if they're a dog? is that rude to say? it seems rude to say. the purse of her lips betrays her internal conflict as they roll together, ultimately deciding — yes, that's better left unsaid. ]

Hold on. He's a magical dog?

[ that would, in hindsight, explain quite a few things. you know, like the capacity for speech, and all. still — she shakes her head quickly, jostling out the thought, as though she's belatedly realized that isn't the point. ]

This whole place must seem so strange to you. What with ... [ awkwardly, she gestures around them. ] Everything.

[ space. magical dogs. odd girls with sunlight in their hands. talking mushrooms and all that had entailed. wherever she looks, she finds a reminder that their circumstances are less than ordinary. ]

[dispassioned]

I don’t know if it’s magic or science, honestly.

[Could be be magic. Could be some sort of special evolutionary path unique to Jake’s universe. It’s hard to say.

Then he shrugs a little. He’s pretty adaptable and compared to Borderland this place is pretty easy to deal with.]

It’s not so bad. The accommodations are adequate and the food is fresh.

[He likes packaged, non-perishable cookies as much as the next person, but it’s nice to have access to fresh fruit and vegetables sometimes.]

[peasant]

[ his apathy is a troubling pattern to notice. like he believes himself to have the same capacity as a cat, landing on his feet wherever he is. or, the less kind interpretation she hasn't shaken of him: he cares for so little that nothing makes a difference to him; nothing has him flappable. a small fountain of frustration bubbles up inside of her, before she swallows it down. opts for eyeing him for a long, inexplicable moment instead, until she shatters the moment, snorting into her tea: ]

"Adequate."

[ the word echoes back to him, deliberately drawn-out with an air of poshness. it would lend itself well to the image she had cultivated him, through first impressions. lazy. spoiled. princely. but ravka's impoverished conditions have taught her better. no one focuses on fresh food and its accessibility as a perk if they've come from privilege. ]

Such high praise, kotik. [ bone-dry in tone as ever. it's not high praise at all, but from him? it may as well be. her tea cup clatters on its saucer as she sets it at the corner of her blanket, tearing off a piece of yiaourtopita to dip. midway through chewing, she continues: ] I like our accommodations. The beds aren't lumpy.

[ she of little standards and simple tastes. still, it's an improvement from laying her bedroll across rocks, in a tent shared with so many other soldiers. or, worse: sheets that had felt like a cloud, in a palace that had been more of a cage meant for a songbird.

like goldilocks, it's just right. ]

[dispassioned]

Isn’t that what I just said?

[Doesn't "adequate" imply a lack of lumpy bedding? His tone is dry, though, like he might be playing up the side of him she’s calling out.

Then he shifts, sitting up a little straighter and preparing to stand.]

But that reminds me…hang on.

[He deadass just gets up and leaves.

It’s fine, he’s seen the movie before. It might be weirder that he’s leaving in the middle of a conversation, but he’s not too worried about it. At least he sort of announced it by asking her to wait.

He returns a short while later and takes a seat again before offering her a pink box.]

It’s not chocolate, but you might like it anyway.

[Inside the box she will find four good sized pink sakuramochi.]

[peasant]

[ alina's thought process, in the meantime, looks a little like: ???????????????????

what a stange man. and growing stranger by the minute, honestly. she doesn't comment on his return, despite the puzzled crease to her eyes — a crinkle that smooths out only to immediately reappear, once he holds the box out to her in offering. rendered mute, she peers down at the box, blinking the bemusement out of her eyes. ]

For me?

[ to her credit, she immediately recognizes the stupidity of the question with an awkward, self-conscious uptick to the corner of her mouth. without waiting for some witty reply, she pops the lid open a little hastily, like she expects his mind will change as easily as a tide, if she hesitates.

it doesn't change the fact of the matter: her inability to predict his next move makes her head spin. teasing insults first, and then gifts second; it reminds her of being pulled out of a cold winter's day into a warm room, only to question if she'll be pushed back out. hot and cold, cold and hot. she casts him a lingering look that matches, transparent in her uncertainty what to make of him — and her surprise that he'd gone to the effort to follow through on her ridiculous demand at all.

there's no tentativeness in her fingers, at least, as they split one mochi apart. it's almost a shame with how pretty and picturesque they are, but her curiosity (and stomach) supersedes all else. only after she's nearly raised a bite to her mouth that she remembers she should be aware of what she's eating, leaning over into his space sheepishly to lower her voice. ]

What is it?

[dispassioned]

[Honestly, the fact that it was ridiculous was part of the appeal of acquiescing. If she’d actually expected it, he wouldn’t have been inclined to do it.

Being unpredictable had kept him alive in Borderland. In diamond and heart themed games, the harder you are to read, the less your opponents can predict your moves, the bigger advantage you have. And those were his specialty. Here on the Ximilia he’s finding it hard to let go of those habits, but he’s also learning that they don’t always have to be weaponized or malicious.

The corner of his lips quirk upward in a faint smile at her question. His expression actually appears more genuinely pleased than smug, for once.]

Daifuku mochi filled with adzuki paste. It’s a popular sweet in Japan—where I’m from. The sakura flavor is offered around this time of year, when the cherry blossoms are blooming.

[peasant]

[ interesting. she's not so certain she's ever seen him make that expression, or thought his face capable of being anything but smug or unaffected. the corners of her own mouth quirk like an echo of his own. ]

If this is an elaborate plan to poison me, I'm coming back as a vengeful spirit.

[ there's no bite to her bark. no doubt to it, either, even if it's natural reflex to question if any kindness shown to her is a scheme. something sweet to sweeten her. make her more palpable, more malleable, in the future.

silently, she reminds herself not everyone is kirigan, much as her paranoia is vulnerable to forgetting.

with careful fingers, she plucks one into her palm, half-torn from her inquisitive inspection. it seems a shame to ruin it any further, prettily designed as it is — the kind of dedication to presentation she's only seen in desserts for rich nobles — but it's predictable that alina's stomach would win out over her appreciation for the art of it.

she pops one portion into her mouth, blossom and all. the taste is immediate, sweet and fragrant across her tongue; delightful surprise turns her warm and doe-eyed as she uncouthly wipes her crumbly fingers off on her nightgown, in the process of turning toward him. ]

It's good. [ enthusiasm, apparently, wins out over not talking with her mouth half-stuffed full. remembering herself, she places an embarrassed hand over her mouth while she finishes chewing with a hard swallow. self-conscious, her fingers swipe around her mouth, trying to collect any fallout. ] I don't think I've tasted anything like it.

[ does it taste good enough to qualify for forgiveness? sources say yes. she smiles, dipping her head to play with one of the petals adorning another mochi ball. ]

Believe it or not, I'd never tried chocolate before I came here, either.

[dispassioned]

[He huffs a light chuckle at the joke about poison. He can’t really blame her for thinking it, honestly. And he’d probably deserve the vengeful spirit.]

Unless you’re allergic to red beans, rice or cherry blossoms, you should be fine.

[Presumably she’s not diabetic if she enjoys chocolate.

But her only discovering chocolate relatively recently doesn’t surprise him too much. Chocolate as it’s known now only started to become popular in Japan about a century ago. Not every country has always had easy access to it. But he's still curious.]

Does it not exist in your world or is access…restricted?

[That is, does it need to be imported and is therefore prohibitively expensive.]

[peasant]

[ allergic? realization creeps across her face in a slow dawn. right. perhaps that should have been a concern — one that doesn't rank highly on priorities for her. spending her years surviving on scarcity — whatever ana kuya could afford, or convince mal to trap; meager army rations that had only been doled out to her on occasion, on the days they hadn't denied her just to feed her portions to someone else — hasn't made her particular about where her meals come from.

her shoulders roll into a small, hapless shrug. ]

I've had no issues so far. [ reassuring, alina. ] We'll find out.

[ — which does not, in fact, stop her from rolling another into her mouth. as she chews, she quickly moves to pull in a sip of tea to wash it down, blessedly sparing him from having to hear her speak mid-bite again. ]

Restricted. [ with a roll of her eyes, ] Unless you're high society.

They're good at hoarding their precious valuables from the rest of us. Can't have peasants possibly enjoying themselves.

[ so: exorbitantly expensive. and a slap to the face, really, when the rest of ravka can barely scrape crumbs together to feed themselves and their soldiers. the sardonic dip to her face, in clear mockery of said high society, says all it needs to on her feelings about that. ]

[dispassioned]

[Her reaction tells him, allergies aren’t something she’s ever had to worry about. Money, apparently, yes. But she’s never had to worry about her food killing her. Then again, she might be dead by now if she had. Starving kids with allergies were at an extreme disadvantage. Needing to be careful about what they eat while simultaneously not being able to afford to be picky was a recipe for tragedy.

He tilts his head when she talks about high society and chocolate. He’s not surprised. That’s about what he expected. He shifts to lean his back against the wall.]

That sounds about right. Cacao isn’t native to Japan and was only introduced a couple of centuries ago. Initially it was only nobility that could afford to have it imported. Though, they tended to use it as medicine rather than dessert.

[Which, in a way, is even worse. It’s one thing to hoard luxuries like sweets, another to keep medicine out of the hands of people who might need it because the rich have easier access to it.

Some things don’t change.]

[peasant]

I suppose some things never change, no matter what world you're born into.

[ her throat chimes with a considering hum. there's no need to point out what's as painfully obvious, and as infuriating, as a pebble in a shoe — nobility will always choose themselves before the needs of their people. the lantsovs are just birds of the same feather, sitting on golden thrones as they force children to battle-march toward their deaths.

all while their own children remain safe and sheltered from the worst of the violence, once it's come knocking on their door. as though having a golden lineage stops your blood from being red, the same as any other ravkan. she brings a thumb to her lip, sucking off the excess paste slicked messily across its calloused pad.

with a bit of much needy levity, she drawls, ] Though the infirmary would be more bearable, if that's what we were using as medicine.

[ the annoyance of being poked and prodded might lessen, too. might ease her avoidance of anything that reminds her of her sickbed as a child, weak-limbed, seeping out any heat the blankets gave her. her eyes sweep over him, back to their idle scrutinizing. ]

You must be studious. [ or — had been, to be so aware. it's a kinder interpretation than saying aloud that perhaps he's just a know-it-all who enjoys being a fountain of unexpected wisdom to lord above others, though the thought crosses her mind in a blip. ] You spout off facts like an encyclopedia would.

[ ... somehow, it doesn't seem as though it was meant to be an insult from her mouth. just perfectly, and observationally, blunt. ]

[dispassioned]

[He huffs a half-chuckle at that. She wasn’t wrong. He was and still is studious. He liked to know things, to be prepared. Though in this case it helps that the history of medicine in Japan is somewhat relevant to his chosen career path.

But all he says in response is:]

I read a lot. I wouldn’t want my mind to become as rusty as my joints.

[His tone is dry, and he’s ignoring that his joints aren’t really rusty at all. Still, it’s a true enough statement.

And speaking of being a know-it-all, he has to ask:]

Have you ever tried cocoa without the sugar?

[Because medicinal cocao might not be as bearable as she thinks. Some people don’t mind the bitterness of unsweetened cocoa, but most find it pretty unpleasant.]

[peasant]

So do I. [ a beat ticks by before she rolls her eyes, pre-emptively anticipating a smug remark. ] And no, not just those sorts of books. Things with substance.

[ if keramzin's hand-me-down, moth-eaten, and outdated books could ever be called as such. to a self-proclaimed academic, as she imagines chishiya must be — as all grisha in the little palace must have been, spoiled for choice with their sprawling libraries — her own well-read past must seem so ... trivial. unremarkable, in the grand scheme.

but she feels no shame over what had given her the tools to survive, in a world where holding paper between your fingers might be the difference between dying in a ditch somewhere along the fjerdan border. if anything, there's a shred of subtle defensiveness to her reply, fully prepared for someone as seemingly well-educated as chishiya to dismiss it. no, that's not right. dismiss her. ]

Have you tried it? [ she counters smoothly, eyebrow elevated. ] Surely you'll say yes, just to be annoying and contrary.

[dispassioned]

[He snorts at that.]

There are things to be learned from those books too.

[Realistically, many young people learned about sex and sexuality through smutty stories. In the same way horror movies were a safe way to experience fear, romance and erotic stories were a safe way to explore sexual themes. He's actually not inclined to judge.

And then in response to her question:]

I have. I was maybe five or six years old. Chocolate smells the same whether it's sweetened or not. It was an unpleasant surprise.

[He sounds vaguely amused. Was that the contrary, annoying story she was expecting?]

In my time, it's not as hard to come by. Most children make the mistake sooner or later.

[peasant]

[ well, he's not wrong. though there's something to be said for that coming out of his mouth.

the muscles in her mouth put up a valiant battle, if not an inevitably pointless one. the crack of her smile comes unbidden, a laugh fizzing out of her like champagne — sudden and bright and bubbling. so much for denying him a reaction, alina thinks. ]

Oh, so you have made miscalculations. [ as a child, but — still. it can be argued that she was one of his miscalculations — and she would happily argue it, for the third time — but it's hardly a debate she wants to revisit, in this moment. ] Shocking.

[dispassioned]

[His lips quirk a little at that.]

It happens occasionally.

[His tone is wry. He would actually admit that he’d miscalculated with her. In fact, he had, in his own way, admitted at the time, though it hadn’t been in a way that she found satisfactory.

But he doesn’t bring that up now. There’s no point in souring the mood when she’s laughing and enjoying herself and he’s feeling generally relaxed. Part of miscalculating is learning from it and, well, he does try to be a quick learner.]

[peasant]

Oh, occasionally, not just rarely.

[ her mouth lifts at the corners, teasingly smug. she hardly knows what it says of him that his pride will allow that confession to slip through — but she's found it's the men that find no fault with their errors in judgment that prove themselves to be crueler. too arrogant to see beyond themselves. clinging to a skewed view, lest it be torn away from them.

the true mark of someone dangerous she should fear. at least chishiya recognizes what it means to be as flawed as the rest of them.

perhaps he'll still prove himself equally as worthy of distrust, in time; she doesn't discount the precarious nature of the orbers she surrounds herself with, unable to fully forget what they may be capable of. but, for this moment in time, she gives herself permission to lean back on her palms — a more relaxed, open posture than the defensive stance his presence has often encouraged. ]

I'll be sure to keep a tally of your miscalculations in the future. Someone has to keep you humble.

[ her head tips in his direction, swinging a curtain of her hair along with the momentum. ]

I see no reason why it shouldn't be me.

[dispassioned]

[There was a time not that long ago where he might have said "rarely" instead of "occasionally." Or, more likely, would have evaded admitting any mistakes at all.

But he’d already been humbled by Borderland. And by Arisu and Kuzuryu and their kindness. There is, perhaps, something to be said for being aware of one’s own faults and weaknesses.

He huffs out a silent chuckle at her words.]

All I’m hearing is you plan to keep me on my toes.

[And, you know, he might be into that, actually.]

[peasant]

You're hearing right. [ almost conspiratorial, her lips curl. ] I've been told I have a talent for it.

[ calling him an acquired taste wouldn't be far from the mark, like a dose of black coffee that becomes less bitter on the tongue, the more her palate acclimates to it. the logical, reasonable course of action would be to dump it down the drain rather than take a second sip — but she supposes, against all rationality and terrible first impressions, there's something intriguing inside of him. a blend of flavors that might not just be harsh and acerbic, after all.

something she can't quite put her finger on, now. maybe, between the two of them, he's the puzzle. or perhaps there's simply something to be said about the promise of being seen, transparent to someone else's eye, flaws and all — and being allowed to see them in return.

whatever it is, it leads to a daring arch of her eyebrows. she lifts a hand, tucking a dark blanket of hair behind her ear. ]

You did say you enjoyed challenges, after all. Or was that all talk?

[dispassioned]

[His eyebrows go up, though not so much in surprise as with interest. Intrigued, he turns his head to look at her fully, his eyes tracking the movement of her hand pushing her hair back.]

Oh, no, I meant it.

[This is what he saw in her first. The boldness and the sass that she wears so well he mistook it for a natural confidence. He knows now it’s something more fragile than that, but he finds he’s glad to see it again. His features relax, the corners of his lips quirking upward to return her smile.]

Challenges are exciting.

[peasant]

[ she can't say she echoes the sentiment. then again, she's never truly faced down a challenge that was more thrilling than terrifying, when her failure to overcome them so often means the difference between life or death lately.

perhaps she simply hasn't met the right challenge, yet.

a little hum vibrates her throat, like she's mulling over the sincerity, tipping her head to consider him. the movement just brings that same curtain of her hair swinging over a shoulder again, as defiant and untamed as the rest of alina starkov. ]

Most people say that until they're faced with a difficult one.

[ maybe not chishiya, though, if there are bragging rights to be won in the process. it's a sign of confidence in himself that she almost finds herself envious of, much as she'd mistaken it for arrogance and arrogance alone — an assurance she hasn't been able to bring herself to embody. not yet. she's only a diamond that seems to crack under pressure lately, uncertain of how to shine beneath it. ]