SHEETCAKE PARTY #1

[goneawaymod]

SHEET CAKE MEETUP

“Who the fuck is Linda?”

The question pops up every few minutes, a little tack of punctuation above the offensively-inoffensive music being piped in*. The room the hires have been ushered into is clearly just a conference room, with a layout that requires either sitting at awkwardly-spaced intervals around a giant table or milling and scooting around the smaller folding table, where the “big surprise” the corporate officers promised them is on display: a sheet cake.

A sheet cake that that still bears HAPPY BIRTH DAY LINDA in blue icing across the top, although someone has, at least, gone to the effort of writing welcome, to the team new hires in Sharpie on a purple flashcard and used a Popsicle stick and tape to plant it like a dismal flag right in the middle of Linda’s “DAY”. Dedication aside, the cake itself looks pretty suspect too, not as if it were poisoned but more like if it were salvaged. The cake part looks dry, and the frosting seems strangely...sweaty. No one’s eating yet, and yet there’s already a piece missing.

However, there’s no lack of enthusiasm around the room. A projector hooked up to a laptop casts an off-center, warped rectangle of WELCOME TO, THE BEST TEAM. NEW HIRES!! onto a wall. The many paper plates have a festive print, although they all seem to be Christmas themed. The table cloth looks as if it came from both 4th of July and potentially a war, given the scuffs and tears. The shot-glass sized paper cups are inadequate to hold a satisfying amount of sparkling cider, but at least they don’t leak. There are many more plastic knives than forks, which could prompt some hires to give in to their animal instincts and just use their hands, or perhaps start a barter economy for the better utensils.

“I’m so jealous,” a corporate employee keeps saying as she ushers hires into the room. “We haven’t had a good party in this office since Kelly’s baby shower, and that little girl practically has teeth now!”

(An eagle-eyed hire may suspect that the box of donuts next to the sheet cake might have come from said baby shower, on account of the fact that the few stale hunks of donut remaining have Pepto-Bismol pink strawberry icing and that there’s still the paper envelope for a gift card with ITS A GIRL written on it.)

Most of corporate slips out after the hires get set up - this is clearly an event for the hires to do some “team building” and work on “rapport” in addition to filling their bellies with cake that tastes remarkably like sand. There’s a karaoke machine in the corner, but hires are instructed not to touch it because, as an employee points out, last year’s Christmas party demonstrated that karaoke is the worst thing in the entire world for morale (“in any world! even before this one got eaten away by the bombs!”).

There’s an additional big glass jar filled with scraps of paper, which the hires are informed are filled with prompts for ice breakers and activities in case the party needs a pick-me-up. Any hire who investigates will find that most of the ice breaker activities start with three benign questions (“what’s your name?” “where are you from?” “what’s your favorite animal?”) and somehow, always a fourth question that feels a little invasive (“what are your feelings on unions?” “under what circumstances would you kill an innocent person?” “do you use the same passwords for all your accounts?”).

“Please enjoy yourselves and all the desserts Jorgmund has generously supplied you with,” one of the employees says on her way out, “and don’t worry about making a mess, janitorial gets paid too much to sit around as is.”

*All music that can be summarized as ’grocerycore’.

Comments

[credit_not_blame]

Stacia is reasonably sure that she will instantly become a Drone if she eats any of that sheet cake, even if the Weaver as she knows it isn't a spiritual force in this place. She will instantly be transformed into a smiling thing without a thought in her head but making sure that the world remains exactly as it is now, forever. It makes her want to take two big handfuls of the cake and rub it on the wall in protest, but she's not quite that far gone.

Instead, she turns her attention to the other people in the room. At five feet even without her heels, most of them are taller than she is. With a few notable exceptions, most of them also look basically human; but then again, so does she.

Well, time to get to work. She looks around again, letting the motion of the occupants of the room carry her attention until some unfortunate soul makes eye-contact with her.

"So this is definitely an event that we're both at. Let's play Two Truths and a Lie; I'll start: my name is Stacia, I enjoy attending Homecoming Dances, and I've colored my nails with hair dye."

[passifloraincarnata]

"That rhymed," Setsuna says, slightly amazed. She is, in fact, failing to eat the cake quite tremendously despite her best-faith efforts to give its edibleness a try. It does not seem to be making her a drone or much of anything except viscerally regretful about her decision to have tried.

"I don't know what a homecoming dance is. Does that make it a lie?"

[credit_not_blame]

She's trying to eat the cake, which indicates that she's probably a very nice girl. She's not actually managing to eat the cake, which indicates that she has self-preservation instincts. Stacia considers taking the plate away to save the girl from herself.

"Homecoming Dances are school parties that happen not too long after it starts for the year," she says. "That is the lie, though. I've missed mine three years in a row, for various reasons."

The explanation is matter-of-fact, not derisive. Stacia is used to explaining things that she considers 'normal' to people who have never heard of them in their lives.

Though, usually, those people are wolves.

"Your turn. Tell me two truths and a lie about yourself. Your name doesn't have to be one of them, but I figured everything is weird enough that a softball question wouldn't hurt."

[passifloraincarnata]

It might not hurt. It might do the opposite of that, in fact, as otherwise she will keep trying to eat it, and god only knows what another bite of this baked obscenity will do to a person. It won't dronify them (probably) but it might cause serious gastric distress later.

That's probably not a polite thing to have on your conscience. Clearly, nobody who organized this event has ever set foot within even a social distance of such a concept.

"Like 'prom', right? I know that's something American schools do ... I saw it in a movie. I don't know if the real thing's anything like it is in a movie, though," she adds, maybe helpfully maybe not. She isn't sure if it clears anything up, herself.

"Um," she says, eloquently. "My name is Higashi Setsuna but most people call me Setsuna, I like dancing, and I d -" she hangs on a thought for a second before remembering it's two truths and a lie - "don't like donuts."

[ahtohollaback]

"Oh!"

Elsa is caught in the eye-contact tractor-beam, and when she's addressed, the tiny thimble of cider she's holding freezes over inside its cup. This strange young woman is inviting her to play a game she hasn't heard of, and though all of the individual words make sense, when they're put together, she's not sure what to do.

"I'm sorry," Elsa says reflexively, and decides to ask for clarification. "Am I supposed to guess which one of those is the lie?"

[credit_not_blame]

"Yep!" Stacia says, giving the alarmed blonde a friendly, non-threatening smile. Though she does glance down briefly at the cup when it makes a crunchy, ice-cube noise. "It's a party game where I'm from. It's a way to help br--" No. "--help people get to know each other. Both people tell two truths and a lie, they both guess which one is the lie, and then they have enough information about the other to have a conversation that isn't mind-numbingly boring."

The explanation is fairly matter-of-fact; Stacia is used to explaining things to people. Normally those people are wolves, but apparently it has well-prepared her for meeting people from other realities. Fun bonus!

[ahtohollaback]

"Oh. I see," Elsa says; one of her hands comes up and across her body, holding her opposite upper arm over the scratchy jumpsuit fabric. She'd played a game sort of like this, with slips of paper and guessing, the night she was taken here. It makes her miss her family very much.

Pull it together. Even if Anna isn't here, she has to go on.

"Okay," she says. "Well, your nametag says Stacia, so that's probably true. You seem pretty friendly. Maybe you like dances. So, I'm guessing...the third one?" Elsa gives a self-deprecating smile that's halfway to a wince. Oh god she has no idea what she is doing. She is so, so bad at these games.

[takenalive]

Obligingly, radiating resignation as if playing a song about it, Alloran turns to make main-eye contact. His stalk eyes languidly survey the room, pausing here and there before he remembers to keep them moving.

<That's a game best suited for young humans, I believe. My name... hah, my name is Alloran.> It's something like sound, but not quite. Someone would be hard pressed to identify the pitch of it and it seems to come from nowhere or everywhere, not directional.

Alloran's absorbed some things about human culture from his experience with poor Aria, but it was an incomplete picture. One stalk eye turns to try and glance at Stacia's fingernails.

[credit_not_blame]

Okay, that explains how a being without a mouth communicates. It's a bit like packlink, though not quite the same. She cocks her head to the side as she 'listens', narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.

"Well, that's cool," she says. "Nice to meet you, Alloran. Can you hear how many questions I have rattling around in my head right now, or is it only one way?"

She glances up at the movement of the eyes on stalks (also cool) and obligingly spreads her fingers. The color on her nails is chipped, but they're pink with the exception of her ring nails, which are silver.

[takenalive]

<I can't, and that's a mercy,> he says dryly. Esplin never got around to acquiring a Leeran. <I am pleased to be able to speak to you.>

Is he pleased? Disconnected, really. It's hard to feel grounded and present in his body, when it hasn't really been his for so long.

<Do you want me to morph? I can be a human female not far out of the appropriate age for that sort of game, if you like. It would be disturbing to watch but not dangerous.>

[wheyoftheadept]

Saturday's wearing a wry grin and an open expression as she answers.

"Homecoming's the lie. I'm actually 350 years old, I once biked six miles with two bullets in my side, and I'm acknowledged as a knight by the court of Avalon."

She tips her sad paper cup in a mock toast. "Name's Saturday."

[credit_not_blame]

"Ooh, you're good at this."

Stacia gives Saturday a thoughtful once-over. Given the options in context of each other, she's willing to accept the bullet one as a truth. So that leaves 'older than she looks' or 'knight of Avalon', and Stacia comes down on the side against nice round numbers.

"350 years old is the lie, right?"

[wheyoftheadept]

"Right in one." Saturday's smile is real for a moment. "Thought for sure you'd pick bike - old as balls and court of Avalon fit together so nicely."

She knocks back her horrible apple juice shot out of reflex, makes a face when it continues to not be a nice stiff drink, and sets the paper cup gently aside. She is actually wearing one of the pointy party hats. It says Happy New Year!!! 1998.

"I'm actually twenty. So, where you from?"

[bringinghopewithme]

Something weird happens when Stacia makes eye-contact with Bunny.

Well, not weird if she realizes that it's not the eye contact that's made him freeze absolutely momentarily still, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, thousand-yard staring right through her. Its that he caught a whiff of her scent.

Her absolutely not just a human child scent. Her grabs-his-survival-instinct-by-the-neck-and-squeezes scent.

The freeze lasts less than a second. He masters the fear and breathes through it, gathering more information, eyes narrowing as he watches her approach and her body language closely.

"Suppose y'could color your nails with hair dye," he says, tone casual, but body language telegraphing I'm watching you. I'm ready. I'm not backing down. "Wonder if it'd do the same for claws."

He flexes his own stubby black claws in demonstration, with a disarming half smile, not in threat, just to emphasize - this is a normal thought for him to pose. This is a normal conversation they're having, which is why they're having it so quietly.

Quietly because hey, she is absolutely something more predatory than what she seems, but she's in the same captive boat he is. He's not interested in giving Jorgmund any information they don't already have, and a wolf may wear a girl's clothing without deserving to be sold out.

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

[credit_not_blame]

Oh! Well, of course a giant rabbit would smell the wolf on her right away. She blinks once, then slides into her more Garou mindset to slowly and deliberately lift her chin and show him her throat. Rabbits don't really do dominance and submission as far as she knows, but he's not a regular rabbit so perhaps he'll understand.

"I would," she answers in the same quiet tone. "I appreciate you being circumspect but unfortunately..." She raises a hand and twirls her finger in an upward-pointing circle. "They already know, so it's not something I'm trying to hide from everyone else stuck here with me." She gives him a wry half-smile, careful to keep her lips closed to hide her teeth and gestures down at herself. "This is the shape I was born in. The rest of it came later."

She's still exposing her throat to him. Hopefully it will help.

[princesspower]

"I'm not really a fan of lying, but, uh, sure."

Adora has to think about this. She wears her heart on her sleeve and she's usually terrible at lying, so she needs to come up with something that won't be an immediate dead giveaway. Her lips purse and then she starts.

"I don't know what a homecoming dance and I've definitely colored things with stuff I shouldn't have, so I'm gonna go with... homecoming?"

[credit_not_blame]

"I really thought the hair dye thing would be trickier than it seems to be," Stacia says. "Yes, I've colored my nails with spray-on hair dye. I keep missing out on Homecoming Dances; they're parties thrown by schools just after they start up for the year."

Her tone is matter-of-fact, like she's used to explaining things to people (she is).

"If you don't want to play, you don't have to. I just figured that it would be a more interesting way to start a conversation than..." she gestures at the bowl of ice breaker questions Jorgmund has set out for them. "That."

[becauseimacoward]

Party games, huh. Well they certainly would work better to introduce themselves than the cards in that glass jar. Dojima thinks it for a moment.

"Lying about your name would make no sense, so I can discard that one..."

That makes it 50% to get the lie right. The last one, about coloring her nails, that sounds plausible. Some people can do strange things when they don't have the right things.

"...you don't like Homecoming Dances"

That's his guess, at least.

[credit_not_blame]

Absolutely better than whatever Jorgmund left for them in the glass jar.

"It's less that I dislike them and more that I've never actually been to one," Stacia says. "But you're still right. Your turn, unless you'd rather talk about something else."

[purple_paradox]

"Ah, I love games," Saint replied in a thick Russian accent. "At least a game will be better than the...'cake'."

He stood head and shoulders over Stacia, but his warm and friendly demeanor usually made him seem less imposing than he normally might.

"Hmm..." he continued, pondering the question. "Is it the dancing? I'm going to bet it's the dancing."

Saint loved dancing, but something about Stacia struck him as her not being the type.

[credit_not_blame]

Oh no, he has a thick Russian accent and he's willing to indulge her. Stacia just knows that she's accidentally going to call him 'Dad' or automatically respond 'okay, love you' at some point in their acquaintance. It's going to be embarrassing.

"I like dancing just fine, but I've never been to Homecoming," she answers. "My plans keep going awry. Your turn!"

She might have offered him an out, but he did just say he loved games...

[gautiheir]

"I think I got about half of that, so I'm going to arbitrarily guess that the third one is the lie," Sylvain says cheerfully. He's holding a plate with a slice of cake on it, but he's more occupied with moving it around with his fork knife (sigh!) than actually attempting to eat it. Look, even he has standards, of a sort.

"- I mean, dye makes sense, and dances make sense. But I don't think I've ever heard of dye that's especially for hair, and homecoming...I have an idea in the most literal sense, but I get the feeling there's something more to it than that."

[credit_not_blame]

"It's the dances, actually," Stacia says. "It's less that I don't enjoy them and more that I've never been."

People have mostly expressed confusion about the dances so far, so a lack of familiarity with hair dye is new.

"Do you want me to go into the details, or do you want to have a go at playing the game yourself?"

[scavengineer]

Gadget's standing on the table, getting a drink. The almost too small shot-glass sized cups end up being oversized but usable in her hands.

"Dye certainly seems plausible. Is homecoming dances the lie?"

[credit_not_blame]

"Yep, you got it."

The little probably-a-mouse-person doesn't seem to smell the wolf on Stacia. She's talking, and she hasn't chucked the cup at her and run, but that's still probably information she should have sooner rather than later. Stacia keeps her hands visible at her sides in the meantime.

"Would you like a boost up or down, while we're chatting? Or for me to grab something for you?"