goneawayworld | NEW YEAR'S BASH

Entry tags:

NEW YEAR'S BASH

Who: Everyone
What: New Year Celebrations
Where: The Rig
When: December 31st/January 1st
Warnings/Notes: Possible drunken revelry, smooches, language.

After everything, it is the end of a long, hard year. Free from Christmas decorations, new ones fill the hall. Snow's still present, and the New Hires will have had time to curse the daily shoveling of the walkways, but in certain areas of the Rig, green onions decorate doorways. Streamers and banners are all over the place. And people are already drinking and making merry, despite the earliness of the day.

They might regret this later, but they don't yet have 2020 hindsight.

Also, with some actual, honest apologies from ol' Dick Washburn, a combined Christmas/New Year's feast is held for the New Hires in their dorm. Yes, there's a dull sheetcake, written with their names (poorly spelled) on it, but there's also stew, a roast turkey, honest to God decent serving sizes... Apparently, it seems, the kitchen staff had found out that the New Hires had been cheated, dealing with missions over Christmas, and had nearly revolted until they got permission to put together a feast for them. Which may be why there's a load of cupcakes, noodles, pasta makings, and everything else that're usually grudgingly held out as treats.

Someone's set up a tree, too. Granted, it's aluminum, but it's decorated. There's a little Jorgmund ouroboros in place of the star as well. Underneath it, the Secret Santa presents. And whatever presents the New Hires might have begged, borrowed, or stolen the money for. And it seems that the corporation also has little gifts for everyone.

Jorgmund may be a heartless machine. But it seems that some of the people who grease the wheels have hearts after all.

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The cake's awful, but someone actually put some effort into the food! There's a lot of it, with zero regard for their current serving limits, and it seems to be self serve. Keen eyes might spot some illicit bottles of middling quality alcohol tucked behind some piles of salad.

Hey, just because they tried, it doesn't mean they had the budget for top of the line scotch.

And here's where people can find gifts from their Secret Santas. Or even just gifts from anonymous friends. It doesn't seem like whoever leaves the mysterious items on their pillows got involved this time, though.

Jorgmund has left them little packages as well. Canvas bags, featuring the Jorgmund logo. And new bedsheets. Also featuring the Jorgmund logo. Well.

That said, it's not all bleak. There's a line of stockings, each with someone's name on them, hanging off of the wall. They seem... hand-made. They're red and green, with white trim, and some people will find them full of candy! Others, and they know who they are, will find nothing but a lump of coal.

Every TV is on. There's some awful reception, but it's easy to see... It's New York! Or what remains of it. Several iconic buildings are gone and others are... warped. Twisted somehow, in nightmarish ways that cause your eyes to slide away from them. But Time's Square, at least, has been rebuilt, and the ball is there. A cheering crowd, somewhat thin by modern standards, is being interviewed by reporters, and revelry abounds as the time clicks closer to midnight.

By now, everyone is likely a little less sober. Best to give the Rig staff some distance. But it seems like one of the New Year's traditions is to kiss whoever you're closest to when the clock strikes midnight. Even though, by local time, it's long past that, Jorgmund's clocks work on that time. Just for today. Just for people to have a sense of normalcy.

Meanwhile, on the top deck, people are handing out poppers and crackers while a massive fireworks show is being triple-checked to make sure that it goes off perfectly.

You've got five minutes. Use them well.

Oh, right. The day after. Guess who's sweeping the firework remnants off the deck, scrubbing burn marks off the wall, and ordered to clean up the glitter? That's right. It's you guys.

So get to cleaning.

Tenten's just glad the kitchen staff is busy catering to parties elsewhere. First of all, she gets to shamelessly loot what's left. And second, she can use their resources again to make soba. It's a whole thing in Konoha, to eat soba noodles at the end of the year and the beginning of the new one. It's a luck tradition.

It's taken her a little longer than normal to get it done this year, and she's left resting her hand in a bowl of cold ice. Technically the transformation she was using, the one that made her look... normal, technically it couldn't feel that because it was fine, but that didn't help the psychosomatic agony she felt whenever she did something that she couldn't when she didn't have the transformation jutsu up.

She kind of wishes that this were a bit more intimate and cozy, but the kitchens were as cozy as you got in the Rig on nights like this. Their TV's on, talking about some place called New York, but her real attention is just on the soba and waiting for Adora and Catra to come to share.

In addition, the stockings all have a selection of codes in them.

That's right, Alia's taken some of her valuable time to set up some more video games. In addition, she's sent out several tiny robots to create a network, with a computational machine in her section of the science labs acting as a provider for everyone. They have to disconnect from the usual Jorgmund network, but hers is faster and has a solid connection. Unfortunately, it only supports games and chats, and the TOS that pops up makes it clear (To those few who read such things) that Jorgmund will have access to the logs upon request.

Of course, everyone must make an account as well, so that their saves can be stored in the cloud as well. She does not, however, suggest to anyone but the New Hires that the password be different from their work passwords.

The games include a Bomberman-like game, some platformers, logic games, puzzle games with nearly infinite levels of increasing difficulty (one of them doesn't even seem made for humans, adapting to playstyles faster than a human can come up with them), an admittedly tripe visual novel about a human falling in love with an immortal android, and a slew of strategy and tactical games that range almost every genre (but with rather cookie cutter gameplay), including 22XX-era Minecraft and Dwarf Fortress (It's still not complete, of course, but at least there's co-op now). Oh, and some sports games. All in all, there's about thirty offerings. They're lovingly crafted, with highly detailed spritework to get around some of the limitations of the display systems available.

What isn't said is that Alia knows who's on and where they are. Sometimes she'll personally alter their gaming experience in real time, to either get them to quit in frustration or keep playing as they have a unique experience. The point of this? Well, if she's got an idea of the passwords they like to use, as well as an idea of where they are and how long they'll be there...

Edited 2021-01-02 19:32 (UTC)

Catra arrives in the kitchen without much fanfare. She's quiet, as cats tend to be, and probably looking forward to food more than she'd admit to anyone else. She pokes her head in, waves a hand towards Tenten.

"Hey, I heard there were noodles."

Stacia had, in fact, been going for some salad when she discovers the booze. May God, Gaia, or other appropriate higher power bless the kitchen staff for their generosity! She still serves herself some salad because vegetables are good and important, but she also pours herself a shot without considering that a responsible adult might spot her and object.

Rictor had, in fact, spotted the booze while scanning the table for something edible like hot dogs. The salads are just what he aimlessly scoops onto the plate while he scopes out the drinkable offerings. The salads, being heavily mayonnaise-based, appear to come in different flavors, that is "white" and "yellow". Ric is hoping this is due to hard-boiled eggs, but if he doesn't eat the salad, he won't need to swipe as much cheap rum.

So... no, he will not be playing the role of responsible adult. "I'll give you the coconut rum if you give me the 151. You're not gonna like it anyway."

They're in a confined space under fairly constant supervision. Ric doesn't see anything that could happen to her that wasn't just as possible sober.

Kenzie has a poor paper plate loaded down with food and a solo cup that reeks of alcohol when she wanders up behind Stacia pouring herself a shot. Time for someone to be responsible. Just that someone is not going to be Mackenzie.

"Fuck. Yes. Time to fucking drink," she says with all the subtlety and grace of a monster truck crashing into the front of a grocery store.

"Merry fucking Christmas." She might already be a little drunk.

"But how will I know if I like it if I never try?" Stacia asks philosophically, but hands over the bottle without protest. "I think the last time I got my hands on that, I was TA-ing a lesson about how to make molotov cocktails."

Stacia laughs and raises her cup in acknowledgment.

"It was nice of the kitchen staff to sneak us drinks," she says. "When the revolution comes, they will be spared."

She downs her shot and makes a face.

"Okay, not as good as the shit Bulletproof brings to parties, but I guess I shouldn't have expected that."

"How do you know you don't like licking streetlamps?" Ric is not a philosophy major, but he also knows that some things don't really need to be experienced to know they're a bad idea. Tuna floats, bad idea. Marrying a Kardashian, bad idea. Baecoordie 151, bad idea. Shit, it even ended in 'die.'

He cracks open the bottle, because of course it's a twist off, and holds it out to her. "Don't believe me? Smell it. Take a deep breath and tell me you want to put it in your mouth. Oh, jeezus."

The smell is wafting up to his own nostrils, and he regrets his current and future choices. "I think it's already a molotov cocktail."

"Because dogs pee on them," Stacia answers. She'd say more, but then the 151 is wafting up her nostrils and she grimaces and pushes the bottle away. "Eww! I think I just felt my nose hair curl. No thank you."

Yeah, that's a Bone Gnawer drink, and Stacia doesn't get many invites to Bone Gnawer parties.

"Yeah, I'm for sparing them. They seem cool," Mackenzie agrees as she takes another hefty sip of alcohol.

"Oh? Who's Bulletproof?" She has a feeling this is gonna be a packmate story. But maybe it'll be a good packmate story. Plus she's kinda drunk so who cares? She can just be happy.

"Packmate of mine," Stacia confirms. "One of Cockroach's."

She's not going to start dropping 'Glass Walkers' or 'Silver Fangs' in public, but with Beatrice the Vampire wandering around with all her knowledge, Totems are a good hedge.

"He got his start as a leg-breaker for the mob. He taught me to shoot guns and Irish whisky, said they were important skills for a young-- well, werewolf."

Still not saying 'Garou' in public either.

"Ah, cool. He sounds like a good one." Mackenzie sounds a little distant then.

"Reminds me of Gabby. She was a couple years older than me and most of the rest of the pack. She kinda like... took us under her wings when we were cubs and she was just getting her first big girl jobs." Read: when she was a cliath and we were babies.

"And then we all ended up together. She taught me archery." Fuck. That hurts. She misses the lazy afternoons spent at the archery targets, talking shit and loosing arrows until the shadows grew long.

Wow, she hadn't even had to push. In vino veritas, except what ever is in Kenzie's cup certainly isn't wine.

"Yeah?" Stacia asks, ever-so-casually. "Sounds like a cool big sister. I didn't have a lot of those at my sept. I bet she had a good time wrangling you guys."

"We were the fuckin' worst," Kenzie says with a sad little laugh. Though more happy then sad, for once? Maybe? She takes another gulp of whatever it is she's drinking, grateful for the strong burn of alcohol down her throat.

"She was, you know. Pack lead."

"Noodles? Here? Who could have said such a thing?" But she says it with a smile. "I didn't expect you quite so early, sorry. Hold on."

She reaches into a pocket and unrolls her scroll, withdrawing an ugly little denim jacket from a puff of smoke. She slips it on and then her entire outfit warps, shifting and slithering until it hits on a little red number. "Might as well look fancy for the occasion, y'know?"

She rocks on her heels a little, setting the scroll down, and peers about behind Catra. "Any clue where Adora is? I'd hate to eat without her."

Edited 2021-01-05 06:21 (UTC)

"I'm here, I'm here!" Adora's voice calls from the hallway. She's wearing hr Horde jacket over the standard issue jumpsuit so at least they're not all stuck looking like total drones. She ducks into the kitchen and then pauses as she sees Tenten's outit.

"Oh, wow, I didn't know it was going to be fancy... not like I even have my prom dress on hand, anyway."

Stacia laughs too. "Weren't we all when we started out," she says. She'd made a lot of cracks about drinking kool-aid in the early days. Maddy had always laughed at them, but Maddy hadn't made it out of cliath rank alive.

She pushes that thought aside for now, and glances around to make sure that no one's eavesdropping.

"Makes sense," she says. "How many of you did she have to keep track of?"

"Whoa." Right, Tenten can just... do that. Catra is at least wearing the clothes she got given by the pair of them for her birthday. They're comfy and better than the jumpsuit! She reaches a hand out towards Adora as she enters, then tugs her in close.

"Who cares? Let's just... eat the stupid noodles." She's not disparaging your noodles, Tenten. She's just hungry. There's a moment of what might be self reflection and then she hurriedly adds a "Thanks, Ten."

"I came home from the gym one day and, well. Magic jacket, just sitting on my pillow," she says, by way of explanation. This wasn't even transformation, it's a straight up magic jacket. "Sometimes you just want to be a little pretty."

Anyhow. Important things first. "What's a prom?" The idea of Adora in one of these dresses is distracting enough, you can't just dangle new words in front of her like that! Even as she asks, though, she's doling out servings. It's a little plain, but knowing the meals these two have had in the past, even 'plain' noodles with small veggies will probably be great.

She had a whole speech lined up, about the meaning of the noodles, but prom dresses sound important! And pretty! And... Yeah, Catra's definitely cute in ~~her~~those clothes.

Adora leans in and bumps shoulders with Catra, pausing to give Tenten a curious look. They haven't talked much since... well. That. She really needs to find the time and now feels like it would be a little awkward. She reaches out to accept a bowl as she considers the question.

"Well... apparently it's this thing that happens every ten years on Etheria, called the Princess Prom. Basically all the princesses get together and have a party and it's fancy and social and... a lot of things, really."

She shrugs.

"I wore a dress because I had to go to it."

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NEW YEAR'S BASH

FEASTING

GIFTING

MAKING MERRY

CLEANING UP

END OF YEAR NOODLES

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Re: END OF YEAR NOODLES

cw: underaged drinking

CW: irresponsible adult in the face of underage drinking

Re: cw: underaged drinking

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