logs | (open & closed) december catch-all

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(open & closed) december catch-all

WHO: cloud strife & others
WHERE: all over stygia
WHEN: throughout december
WHAT: event & notice board shenanigans
WARNINGS: n/a - will update as necessary!

( please feel free to hit up his inbox at any time, or plot with me over here if you'd like a closed starter! )

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[ It's an easy enough job, he figures, and not exactly the first time he's played at being a bodyguard. Then again, he's tried all kinds of things, most of which he'd like to lump under the other category on his mercenary resume; he doesn't exactly like to bring up the whole task of chasing down cats or fixing roof tiles or helping reunite past lovers. For now, at least, he's building up a reputation, however small, to be able to be trusted with other tasks and jobs for the right amount of money--and maybe that's why he's here, accompanying someone to the modeling gig out in radiance.

He's sure it's fine, and doesn't really expect there to be trouble, but at the same time, he's always thought it better to be safe than sorry--and maybe he had, just slightly, noticed the word nude on the request at the notice board. It doesn't matter too much to him, as long as he isn't the one modeling.

Still: he's definitely a little visibly embarrassed, when they come up on the location; his arms fold against his chest, clearing his throat, and he gives a short nod of his chin towards the closed door. He isn't going to knock, for fear of things being misunderstood, but he shifts his weight patiently between his boots. ]

...You want me to go inside with you? [ It pains him to ask it, but he tries to sound nonchalant, polite. ] Or are you okay with me waiting here?

[ It looks poisonous, he thinks, as he looks up at the plant hanging from the rafters of the tavern. A part of him wonders if he should endeavor to stand on the table and take it down; then again, that wouldn't be polite manners, and he's just here for a drink, a small meal, nothing too complicated. The last thing he wants to do is start a fight with a stranger, or multiple strangers, and instead it's just the cross of his bright blue gaze that lingers there, for a moment, before retreating.

No one is quite brave enough to take a seat next to him at the rickety table, which is something of a relief. Comfortable with the thought, he tucks his chin down and takes a long drink from his glass, swallowing it down with a faint grimace before he returns to his plate. There's a few scattered grilled vegetables still there; he's reluctant to keep eating them.

Still, apparently luck isn't always going to be on his side: or maybe it's just that there are no open seats elsewhere. When a stranger finds their way to his table, and the open chair across from him, he almost wants to say a warning--as it is, he shifts up in his chair and then, once the stranger sits before he can do anything about it, he deflates back into it. ]

Shouldn't sit here. [ It doesn't sound angry, or offended--it's more reluctant, like he doesn't want to have to say it. With a soft sigh, he nods his chin upward. ] That...plant thing, is here. Above us.

[Perhaps he'd been too deeply consumed by his own thoughts to notice the place filling up around him, but it has filled up since he'd first taken his seat. There are now no more than a few vacant chairs dotted around the room, no full tables free at all. His, alas, is the first seat she happens to spot, along with the fact that he seems to be picking at the food on his plate, like maybe he doesn't really want what remains.

Result.

She doesn't notice the plant. Instead, she drops down into the mismatched chair across from him, the legs of which squeal unpleasantly when she kicks it out with her foot. Her own plate and glass meet the tabletop, and she's casting a long, lambent glance his way. The words 'you gonna eat that? already taking shape on her tongue.

But he speaks up first with obvious reluctance, stilling her question before it can be voiced.]

Huh?

[She says, oblivious, her eyes sliding up toward the plant hanging above them.]

What about it? Want me to get rid of it, or something?

[ So the stranger's never heard of the plant, he's guessing, or hasn't experienced anyone telling tale of it around town; there's a soft sigh from his lips, almost like he doesn't want to have to explain it, but if he doesn't, he imagines that there's going to be more trouble for the both of them. Begrudgingly, he bends an elbow onto the table. ]

No, it's... If you're under it with someone, you have to kiss.

[ Somehow, he managed to get that sentence out coolly, his cheeks refusing to flare up with embarrassment almost by sheer willpower alone. ]

--If you don't, it seems like some weird curse or something gets you. I don't really know the specifics, but it's better to...

[ A swallow, as he shifts in his seat again; his arm stretches along the table, lifting a gloved hand up as though to say well, what other option is there? ]

...kiss. I guess. You up for it?

[ It's outside of one of the parties, in the heart of Mirth, where he sees the man that claims to know him, again.

He hadn't planned on staying, but a job had brought him out this far, and he'd heard the doors were open to everyone--he isn't so stingy as to slide through the crowd of people, taking food and drink to squirrel back to where he's staying, but there's a pervasive sense of loneliness about the season that he can't quite describe. Even with the way that he knows others should keep their distance, and he doesn't want them around anyway, he finds the tension in his body lessen a little, seeing people in this place enjoy their time together. For all the horrors he feels like he's experienced, this doesn't seem so bad.

Still: a party is a party, and he's terrible at parties. Rather than stick around, he awkwardly clings to the outside of the groups chatting and laughing together, snagging a glass of some sweet, bubbly sort of drink to cradle in his hands before stepping outside. The house and adjoining rooms are too warm; with the mako in his blood, it feels dangerously like overheating.

When he takes a seat on the stoop, hands slung between his knees, he sees it: the man, Vincent, in all of his dark glory.

At this point, it almost amuses him. ] Hey.

[ There's a soft nod of acknowledgement; he tips his glass up a little, ignorant of the fact that there's a sprig of mistletoe above him, hanging off the awning of the door to the house behind him. ] You don't need to, but there's food and drink inside if you want. Pretty sure they might want to talk to you though. You...stand out a little more than me.

[ he isn't a partygoer either, social aptitude not one of his many strengths.

he prefers the quiet peace that comes with solitude. it may be lonely at times, but it suits someone like him who wants little to do with extraneous bonds and connections. oblivium hasn't done much for him in terms of favors, yet it has at least given him the liberty to once more disconnect himself without consequence. the disease currently eating away at him has only made it easier for him to stay away from those who may express concern.

he has been trying to keep himself busy, accepting commissions and investigating into the incident that took place a few months back. the best way to gather intel is by speaking to the locals, which is what has lured him to the party tonight.

he didn't expect to run into cloud there. ] Unlikely. [ his appearance is more likely to encourage people not to approach him. ] Between the both of us, you look friendlier. [ a faint smile teases the corners of his lips as he joins him, only to clock the mistletoe a moment too late. ]

T'ch. [ he closes his eyes for a brief moment before he lowers those red hues back down to the blond. ] You should be more careful of where you sit, Cloud. [ he lifts his gloved hand, pointing up at the sprig positioned neatly above their heads. ]

I don't think I've ever heard that in my life.

[ Or, if he has, he doesn't remember it. In the reflection of his glass, he can see the vague outline of his own face, the blur of blonde hair; he can see his eyes, glowing in the relative darkness, and decides to bring the glass to his lips to stop seeing them. Vincent chooses to ease down next to him on the stoop--politely, he scoots to the side a little to make room for him and all his caped glory.

It's with that little bit of liquor in his mouth that he glances upward; Vincent says you should be more careful of where you sit and he sees it, hanging in the awning of the door. Swallowing quickly, he coughs a little, sputtering, embarrassed of both his own ignorance and the fact that he now looks like some sort of kid choking down his first taste of alcohol. One hand comes up, dabbed against his lips, and he holds the glass at his knee with the other. ]

...Great. [ There's an exasperated breath; he doesn't seem to want to meet Vincent's gaze. ] You've heard about this stuff, yeah? Seems to be causing a lot of trouble around town.

[ --which means, of course, they don't have many options. He takes in a soft breath and lets it out, slowly, his gaze wandering almost guiltily up to Vincent, now, like he isn't sure what to think. Supposedly Vincent knows him, so maybe it isn't weird: or maybe it is weird? He can't tell. ]

I'm down if you are. Necessity, you know.

[ He's something of a regular at the headquarters for the Adventurers Guild--and he wonders if it's a bad look.

Could it be desperation? Would it be that obvious? A part of him hopes that it only looks habitual; he wants to keep up-to-date with any potential jobs, and there's no better place to do so than at the Guild. Despite making a good amount of coin from other endeavors, and his own efforts with the notice board, it's still nice to duck his head in here, routinely, to see if there's anything else he can pick up. He won't make a comment about being able to see those that he may, tentatively, be starting to care about; he would much rather put his focus into work than anything else. Even here, it's better for him to keep his distance from others.

Still--he's checking out the latest quests when he sees Cedrik, huddled over one of the tables, looking positively miserable. Everything in him demands that he make no comment--and yet something else, something small, and warm, and worried, seems to pivot his feet in the other's direction. With a soft sigh, he relents to the annoying quirks of his own being, the sound of his boots on the floor signaling his approach more than anything else. Rather than take a seat next to him, he crouches down, arms on his thighs and gloved hands knit together between them, as though that helps keep him at a polite distance. ]

Everything going alright? [ There's a hitch of worry in his voice, but he tries to cover it up with his usual quiet nonchalance. ] You look kinda...

[ An uncomfortable shift. ] ...Cold.

[ Cedrik grew up in a colder climate and he managed just fine in Coerthas, winter in the Netherworld should be no trouble for him. At least, that's what he's still telling himself while trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Getting up and moving would do more good, but while he's still healing from that surprise monster encounter at the library...he doesn't want Sakura scolding him again. But if he can't be active then at least he can be productive.

Strewn out over the table before him are a collection of books with Cedrik pouring over them when Cloud comes in. His brow is deeply furrowed as he tries his best to actually absorb the information before him rather than read the same few lines over and over again, constantly distracted by how godsdamned cold it is. Normally the Viera would be quick to greet any visitors, the fact that he doesn't this time is another clue that he's not his best, beyond the physical signs.

His head snaps up at the sound of Cloud's voice, looking both surprised and then embarrassed to see the face attached. It's Cloud! He likes Cloud, he always tries to make the man to feel welcome, but he didn't even notice him come in... ]

Cloud, f-forgive me, I didn't hear you...

[ Which is saying something. Cedrik sits up straight, his arms still wrapped tight around himself though it doesn't seem to be doing him any good. He puts on a wry smile and tries to ignore the faint stutter his shivering has given him. Joking will help, right? ]

Perhaps a little...I'm starting to w-wish I'd found a building with a hearth for the guild.

[ Well, something's definitely wrong--and it looks like his guess is right on the money. Cedrik's stuttering makes his own lips twitch; it's not as though he's going to laugh at him, but it's endearing in a way, if not incredibly relatable. Growing up in the mountains, he may be a little more predisposed to cold winds and terrible weather, but Cedrik's always seemed the resourceful sort to him, even though he doesn't know too much about where he grew up, or even where he came from to begin with. With a stretch, his palms braced to his knees, he brings himself to stand up straight again.

Cedrik's straightened up, too, though his arms are wrapped around himself like he's struggling to keep in the heat. Casually, one of Cloud's gloved palms rests against the top of the table, careful not to disturb any of the books strewn there. ]

...Well, you've got plenty of kindling. [ It's supposed to be a joke, his voice wry and amused; his gaze filters over the books, before drifting back to Cedrik. ] I could light it up for you. A bucket or a trash can'll do.

[ He wouldn't--but he lets out a soft breath, tilting his head like he would rather look anywhere but at Cedrik when he says it: ]

...I'm pretty warm, I guess. Maybe if we sit together, you'll defrost a little.

Ha! Alas, I doubt the library's g-good will will stretch that far.

[ Cloud's dry little joke gets a laugh out of the Viera, eyes narrowing with warmth--metaphorical warmth, that is. It's proof the cold hasn't dampened his spirits completely, at least.

He almost--almost--misses the look that crosses Cloud's face as he makes a more serious suggestion. Turning away as he does, like he's embarrassed... The laughter fades and Cedrik's smile softens, turning thoughtful. ]

There is s-something strange about this cold... [ It really shouldn't be bothering him as much as it is and nothing he's done on his own has seemed to help. At this point, maybe help from another is exactly what's needed. ] ...honestly, I am w-willing to try if you do not mind.

[ Slowly, Cedrik stands up from the chair. If they are going to do this there are better spots--a booth over against the wall, big enough for them to sit side by side. But first: ]

Do you?

[ A part of him yearns to say yes--but what kind of idiot would he be, turning down his own suggestion? It's the fear of getting too close, he figures, the firm desire to distance himself from others, and yet there's some discomfort in knowing that even trying to do so has managed to land him in the good graces of at least a few people; it's only a matter of time before he disappoints Cedrik, just as he's disappointed so many others in the past.

So it's a small, tight-lipped sort of smile, awkward, that fits on his face, and he gives a soft shrug, encouraging. ] I don't mind. We can try.

[ He worries, a little, about Cedrik and his chattering, that moving away from the table may just make it harder for him to settle anywhere at all--but he moves slowly, himself, his steps purposefully mild as though he's taking in the details of the guild, when in reality he's just making sure he doesn't get too far away from Cedrik just yet. ]

Not a fan of winter then, huh? [ He eases towards the booth against the wall: it's big enough for both of them, after all, and awkward for a moment, he hesitates before sliding in to take a seat. ] I guess I'd probably feel different if I wasn't so hot all the time. Seems to be taking a lot out of people.

[ Cloud's hesitance is hard to miss, even if it was his suggestion; it's why Cedrik asked in the first place. He hasn't known Cloud long but he's already pinned him as the sort of person who needs to be coaxed into having friends. Or shoved. But Cedrik would rather coax, in this case.

He tries to keep up the casual conversation as he moves, the cold making him stiff rather than any awkwardness as he joins Cloud in the booth. ]

That's the strangest t-trick of it: I don't mind it at all. The winters could get harsh where I grew up and...

[ There's a pause as he sits. Side by side with Cloud the effect is subtle but instant...the man's a furnace, and as much as Cedrik has been struggling he can't help but press right up against Cloud's side and take his arm. ]

Gods be good how are you so hot?!

(OOC: If you'd rather not continue then no worries.)

[ Parties make him uncomfortable, and it's even worse when he doesn't know anyone else there.

The atmosphere is good--or could be, for those that like this sort of thing. It reminds him a little of being back home, at least as far as he can remember, with the town getting together on holidays to have little parties or bring food to each other's doors; he can't quite remember the specifics, almost like they've been burned out of his mind, or--or maybe it's just that it's from so long ago, right, it makes sense that he wouldn't remember much. The harder he thinks about it, the more that his head hurts, so he tries to leave it there.

In the reflection of the liquid in his glass, he can see the grimace he's wearing on his face; there's a group of girls singing some sort of sweet song, near one of the tables, and a few people surrounding them are clapping along. Further, towards the door, there's a group of men engaged in a rowdy, boisterous discussion; a few children run for the sweets table, snagging a few cookies and chasing after each other. All of these people seem to have somewhere to go, or someone to be with, and: he's here because it's a little warm, because he wanted to observe, and because winter feels a bit lonely, in this place.

To his surprise, he's not the only person here that doesn't seem to have a particular place to be. When his gaze lifts from his glass, he sees the girl that he helped out after the attack at the end of the harvest festival: the one that was stubbornly bleeding everywhere. His lips press into a thin line: with a tilt of his head, he angles a few steps closer to her, politely keeping some distance. ]

Guess you survived. [ This is his way of teasing. ] You like parties...?

[Kainé is leaned against the wall, 'wallflowering' as it were, an eggnog in hand. Her injury seems to have healed, but she still wears the bandages over her left arm and leg.

When Cloud approaches, she drops her crossed arms, holding the drink in front of her instead. When he asks the question, she shakes her head.]

Fuck no! I'm only here for the food.

[She's pretty unsociable and still camps out outside of Stygia, instead of claiming a house for herself. She still feels like she doesn't belong in towns among people.

Kainé is still dressed in her lingere despite the cold. Her Shade powers (mostly, when they work) keep from being affected by extreme weather.]

How about you?

...Kinda the same deal.

[ There's a glance towards the glass in her hand--he can't really tell what it is, and isn't sure if he should ask or not, embarrassed to be caught without knowledge about something here. Instead, he shifts between his heels, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. ]

Figured there might be something to learn if I came to one of these, but so far, it's just... [ A vague gesture of his hand up, fingers drifting. ] ...People talking about nothing and drinking.

[ So, that means it's back to crossing his arms against his chest. ]

Anything good? I'm kinda wary of the food after the festival.

A friend after my own heart.

[She nods, watching him gesture around.]

This drink is pretty good. [She doesn't know what it's called either] Nothing's hit me yet. There's some kind of meat over there that's tasty. Only thing I've heard to stay away from is the tarts. But there's plenty of other things.

[She looks thoughtful.]

Oh, and people seem to be playing some kind of game where they randomly kiss one another. Don't know what that's all about...

Tarts...

[ That earns a suspicious glance back towards the table with the food--almost like he wants to inspect it, but he lets it go. It seems that desserts cause more trouble in this place than regular food, but he can't be entirely sure.

Of course, the mention of kissing makes him smile: a tight-lipped thing, small and short, and his brows lift up as though to reassure himself of the fact that they're not under any right now. He isn't quite so lucky, and a curse leaves his lips, soft, under his breath. ]

...Yeah. [ One hand jerks a thumb up towards the ceiling above them. ] It's that plant up there. You see it? Once you're under it, you have to kiss the person you're with. Kind of ridiculous, but...

[ But there's no other option, is there? His hand rubs at the back of his neck, awkward. ] ...But here we are. I guess.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(open & closed) december catch-all

open — a guard for painting

open — mistletoe

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closed — vincent

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closed — cedrik

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closed — kainé

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Cloud's gonna have to notice the Mistletoe. She's not familiar with it.

gotcha!