ArchivedLogs:Bring The Party

Bring The Party
Dramatis Personae Ion, Charlie Torres, Isra, Omelette
In Absentia	18 March 2015 "That's a lot of monster for a little baby."
Location <BOM> Common Room - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
The common room's rustic-lodge feel has been somewhat mitigated by the modern amenities inside its sturdy wooden walls. It has comfortable couches, several chairs, a refrigerator (stocked with snacks and drinks!), a pool table, a pinball machine (METALLICA!), an assortment of books, a television -- with several game systems! -- and a splendid view out the windows (when their lacy yellow curtains are drawn open) for the rest of the island. The pale wood floors have been covered in places -- by a pair of soft thick blue rugs, by a large squishy pair of beanbags that stand in front of the stone fireplace. There's also a board up on the wall, half corkboard, half whiteboard, with a variety of community notes (and occasional insults) to other Brotherhood members. Large doors on the right-hand side lead off to the kitchen and dining room. In the back of the room, the council room's heavy oak door bears solid locks that are almost never actually barred. A short hall adjacent to the council room's door leads to a trio of multi-stalled bathrooms; these might once have been marked with the typical man-woman-handicapped signs, but someone has given them new plaques on the door; a stick figure with horns and a long tail, one with wings. One -- the large single-user toilet -- has instead been given a helmet and a cape. Tonight there's music in the common room. Guitar playing -- pretty well, too --- and a voice singing in a very gravelly-deep bass. "De repente me parado y empece piensar, Pensamiento de protesta de el lago a mar." At the moment, his audience consists of one very small biteling who doesn't honestly much resemble an /infant/ so much as a tiny gargoylemonster. Diapered gargoylemonster. Eridani has been laid out on the floor on a padding of blanket, large stuffed rabbit beside them. For clinging. Or mauling. Whichever. Ion, meanwhile -- just singing. Maybe it's not exactly a typical nursery rhyme but who's counting? /He's/ in jeans, tall boots, his MMMC kutte (which has, recently, gained a new addition to its bleach-stains and bite-marks and claw-marks and burns in the form of glittering BEADAZZLED lightning bolt up near the shoulders) worn open over a plain white tee. His hair has had a makeover too, (kind of messy) blue streaks in its shaggy dark mess. The guitar playing draws a passing hare-girl in from the front porch, dressed for the returning /cold/ in a teal wool hat, cream and blue jacket over a paler blue tee with a silver star on it, charcoal corduroys, and oversized work boots. Her long ears are partly hidden away between the hat and even longer brown hair, attempting to conserve some body heat. A light scent of vanilla comes from the licorice twig chewstick tucked between her lips almost like a cigarette, wiggling slightly as her teeth worry at it. Charlie slips into the room quietly, trying not to interrupt the playing. A fuzzy brown hand lifts in a wave if she does manage to draw attention. Though her /own/ attention is quickly drawn to the...whatever that is on the blanket. Her eyebrows can't seem to decide on up or down in their obvious questioning. Isra sweeps in, trailing cold hair in the billowing folds of her black cloak. Shedding this, she stretches massive iridescent silver wings; that same color tigerstripes her lavender skin. She wears a royal purple off-the-shoulder dress, backless and asymmetrical, the hem reaching her knees on the left side but half-way down the shins of digitigrade legs on the right. From a canvas bag slung over one shoulder she withdraws a mixed case of Angry Orchard hard ciders. This last she sets on the kitchen counter before returning to lift Eridani blanket and all, /hefting/ them more than bouncing them as such. Settling the creature on her shoulder, she studies Charlie with frank curiosity. "Esten in lucha lo quieren disparar -- {woah shit! Look, tiny-monster, we got us some company.}" Ion's speaking continues at first with the same rhythm the song had. Kind of rapped along to his strumming. He hops to his feet, still playing as he moves over to the counter -- finally he stops so that he can snag one of the ciders. "{Always know just the right surprises to bring, sister --} YO." His chin lifts to Charlie, finally. He waggles the cider -- in a wave? In offering? "Eh-hey-hey who's this, then? {Omelette, you meet this Trickster yet?}" "{I didn't mean to interrupt,}" Charlie only half gets through responding to Ion leaving off his guitar before shrugging it off...there are drinks and that's a way better interruption than she ever thought to be. Her glance is drawn back to Isra and Eri now and then, still processing. "{Omelette? I was gonna go with dragon for lack of a better. He yours?}" The tilt of /her/ chin slides to include both Ion and Isra. "Charlie. Just got here 'bout a week ago." It might be something in the Trickster comment that pulls a smile onto her face. The girl's doe-eyes go even wider at the display of wings. "Got some fine wings around this place, have to say. I'm guessing you're a friend of Tag's, too, huh?" Unless there's just a bevy of wing-colourists in New York. Isra sinks down onto a couch, letting her wings drape over the low arm of it. Eridani, flopped on her shoulder, stretches out one fuzzy black wing to swipe at the glittering curve of her horn. "Welcome to the family, Charlie. I am Isra and Eridani here..." She tilts her head, perhaps to indicate the infant, or perhaps to magnanimously allow them access to her horn. "...came out of an egg--hence omelette and associated nicknames--which in turn came out of me. Ion and Kay adopted them." An amused smile curls her purple lips, revealing the tips of elongated fangs. "Tag is my colorist, yes. You come from the City, then?" "This monsterling," Ion is rather /enthusiastically/ explaining straight /over/ Isra's explanation, "they like a goblin-gargoyle-/dragon/-vampire. The most ferocious of beast. Wreck all your shit, huh? Also make a delicious frittata." He sets his guitar down propped up against a side of the couch, plucking up a second bottle of cider and ambling back over to offer it -- vaguely outward. Whoever wants. Maybe Eridani. "{A week? Already a week and we haven't thrown you a goddamn party yet, I'm fucking slacking. Let's do it.}" "That's a lot of monster for a little baby," Charlie observes with a chuckle. "He an honest hatchling then, huh? That must've hurt like a sonuvabitch." Her nose crinkles at the thought. Ick, birthing processes. The rest of the explanation followed by the party offer dawns obvious realisation across the hare-girl's face. "{You must be Master Ion}," she assumes with a bit of what she considers a Fancy voice, a little bow with a flourish of her hand toward Ion that just so happens to make snagging that second cider a thing of ease. "{Your reputation proceeds you. I'm down for being an excuse to party.}" Stuffing the chewstick into a pocket frees up her mouth for cider-drinking. "City, yes, but not the one you mean. Came up from Baltimore. Meet a guy with church-wings here, make my first trip into the city and run right into the guy does the colours. Guess it's a smaller circle hanging around freak cafes though, huh." "I would not recommend it." Isra says this airily, as if she did not have a taloned monsterbaby trying--ineffectively--to climb her horn. "I suppose he means /right this moment/, but we could do a bit of /planning/. Invite people, perhaps? Welcome to New York, as well, then. How do you like it here so far?" Eridani's head lolls backward on their skinny neck, nostrils twitching with sudden interest. Their bulging green eyes roll to and fro, then settle on Charlie. All interest in shiny horn lost, they start straining in the hare-girl's direction while emitting a loud, rapid clicking. "Church wings?" Isra blinks, but her noncomprehension does not last long. "Dusk--Eridani's biological father." The child's mouth opens to show vicious fangs. "Have they eaten recently?" This last addressed at Ion. "{/Master/, me, what's this?} Shit-yo, Demona, I got myself an upgrade, honest-to-goodness goddess here bowing at /me/." Ion does not fail to bow /back/, with an expansive sweep of his hand. He clinks his cider against Charlie's, opening his bottle on his belt buckle. "{Planning? What we need?} I make the food, we got the booze, I can /round/ up the damn people. {I even got a music!} We most'a the way to a party already. {I got this don't worry.} -- Ehhhhh." He considers Eridani's straining with a shake of his head. "Not some-little-while no. Didn't want no nap after the last foods so we was having music time." "No offense, but that wouldn't be a recommendation I'd take if you /did/ give. Eggs, man." Charlie's shoulders give a little shudder as she digs through her other pocket, snagging a keychain bottle opener to crack into her cider. "Thanks, I been liking it well enough. Meet some good people. Went in a damn coffee shop with my hood down. Getting into this strength in numbers thing." She nods at the mention of Dusk. "Yeah, that's the guy." The look she gives the bared fangs is a little dubious. "I guess that's the family resemblance there. Um. This kid having a seizure or something? He making a clicking and got eyes going around like marbles." Forget monster-babies, Charlie doesn't even have experience with the more run-of-the-mill kind. Ion distracts her from whatever concern was growing for the lolling infant, half-grin growing with the bowing and the goddess commentary. "{Dusk, he named you. Think it might've been Master of Bad Plans. Or partying. Don't remember which exactly, but I told him I should meet this guy he's talking about.}" She gives a little chuff of laughter before taking a swig of cider. "Party now, party later. Both? Sounds like a plan either way." "Upgrade? Can you ride the lightning without frying electronics now?" Isra raises one hairless eyebrow ridge, then glances at Charlie, her smile less fierce than fond this time. "Evolve, if I had to guess? I have not found too much welcome in the average business, but I have a short list of go-tos. I can share it with you, if you are interested." She passes her hand in front of Eri's face a couple of times, earning only an irritated gurgle that does not interrupt the clicking growl. "That particular sound indicates hunger or curiosity. I think. You may smell different from most people in their experience." Her wings hitch up in a small shrug. "Perhaps I ought to go feed them before this party gets into full swing." "Tcccch fuck the electronics, lightning-god don't need no damn /phone/. -- Oh, the Frittata 'e's making that noise from wanting to eat you. Nothing personal monsterface want to eat every-damn-body, {we been trying to enforce not to bite on /people/ but right now Gremlin gets all his food from the hutch rabbits outside.}" SHRUG. Kind-of-not-really apologetic. "And fuck Darkwing yo he just /jealous/ I got /all/ the good damn plans. We party now we party later -- /shit/ man I gotta round up the band. {You wait. Tonight we party.}" Cider still in hand, Ion -- doesn't actually dart for the door. Just leans against a wall and vanishes. Together with his cider. Also together with the building washing into sudden darkness as its power cuts out. Charlie's eyebrows loft in tandem at the 'ride the lightning' comment. "That's the place. Tag, he mentioned a bakery that's a cool space, too? You got more, I like to hear it, yeah." A little snort puffs her cheeks out. "That's probably just the fur. Sorry, kiddo, I am /not/ for eating. Hm. That's what /rabbits/'re for." She punctuates the /not/ with a little tip of her cider bottle. Her grin only spreads as Ion keeps talking. "{I had that kinda feeling. You got a whole band? Goddamn...go for it. I play some drums sometimes. Like a good beat.}" There's another snort as the lights go out, what stray lights from outdoors make it in lending the hare-girl's eyes the shine of an animal's at night. "Guess that's what /that/ meant. Where's the breaker box around here? I'll get us set." "They /do/ still get a hankering to bite anything with a pulse sometimes." Isra scratches behind Eridani's pointy ears, one pricked forward at Charlie and the other turned to the side, its tip flopped over. "Though with me right here having a perfectly good pulse, it stands to reason they find the fur appealing. Or, less likely, they just want your alcohol." She hardly reacts when the lights go out--her eyes and Eridani's, like Charlie's, gleam eerily in the gloom. "He can ride somewhat smaller and more tractable steeds than /lightning,/ as such. Ask about his motorcycle sometime." Rising, she strides into the kitchen and returns with a bottle of cider. "Bizarrely, all things considering, I do not know--over by the bathrooms, perhaps?" One vast wing stretches out to indicate the direction, the iridescent sheen glimmering faintly where the windows admit some light. “That's gotta be inconvenient. Hm, baby beer. Little nipple on the bottle neck.” Charlie's lips twitch with amusement. “Right, the bikers. Heard some small bit about them.” She wanders toward the bathrooms, poking around for a likely panel. “Ah, here we go. Probably just tripped some breakers. Maybe fix it right up.” Fuzzy fingers make quick work of prying open the panel and flipping the tripped breakers back. "I cannot claim any intimate knowledge of motorcycles, but the MMMC's machines do not often fail to impress." Isra resumes her seat and sips at her cider; Eridani continues to follow Charlie about with their ears. "Not the cider, after all. I'll keep them out of biting range of you, then." When the lights return, she winces and lets slip a low growl--plainly audible to Charlie, though average human hearing might not register it. Even so, her "Thank you" comes with no trace of sarcasm. "Ion will probably remember to return eventually, with or without a party." Her ears press back against her skull and she grins. "It still qualifies as a party with only us in attendance, yes?" “Don't got much myself, but like the way they kinda purr, yeah? You think they make a helmet go over these ears?” Charlie snickers a little as she runs a finger down the length of one long-fuzzy ear. “Apologies. I get the same thing with the sudden-loud noises. Got some custom earplugs I carry on me for when I know something's gonna /stay/ loud. But, yeah. Not exactly looking to be little monster chow.” Another chuckle answers the party questions. “Party ain't about the number of people you got. S'just about /who/ you got. Think we're doing pretty well already.”