Party tiiiime

[elvenking]

CHARACTERS: All the people.
LOCATION: O2 Gardens.
WARNINGS: Drunkenness and things.
SUMMARY: Thranduil made mead. This is as good an excuse as a wood-elf needs to throw a party.
NOTES: The announcement was made here, three days ago. The invite is totally open.



The Elvenking has designated a specific clearing as the "party circle." Really, there should be a fire and lanterns, but those are bad ideas on a space ship and Ned would go nuts, so he has made the area look as festive as possible. Meaning he has thrown down a few blankets and propped up the cask of mead on a sort of quadripod. Food is laid buffet-style on one of the blankets--breads, meats, fruits, hearty cooked root vegetables, cheese, butter, and honey among them, plus whatever the other guests brought (Thranduil's provided food is pretty low-prep).

The mead itself is very good, clear and smooth and sweet. But for those who aren't crazy about sweet wines, no matter how manly and traditional (and potent) they are, others have brought other forms of booze. Someone is playing music to dance to at any given time--harp, drum, fiddle, and flute in various combinations.

Have a good time.

Comments

OTA

[summerlord]

A few days away from home and a handful of odd conversations had left Elrond feeling a little raw; as was to be expected, most likely, but he was also never one to shy away from difficulty, nor was he one to shy away from social niceties. He may not be a wood-elf, but he did enjoy a get-together from time to time. Music, food, drink; it was almost enough to remind him of home -- and to remind him that some things would never change.

He wanders the clearing for a time, talking to whomever approaches, before finding a comfortable place to sit near the edge of the clearing. He has a piece of bread with honey and a cup of mead and a good place to watch the goings-on; it's good enough for the time being.

[northerner]

In Westeros, they'd held parties and feasts and the king's attendance had been an honor. Robb remembers it, how all had parted to allow Robert Baratheon into the hall, how they'd served him all he'd desired and then some. But Robb enters quietly, Grey Wind at his side, and he fetches his own cup, hangs back to watch the festivities.

He's not much for feasts, not after so long aboard the Tranquility. There's a man dead and Nathan feared the worst, and the creature had paid such special attention to Arya. It's difficult not to feel ill at ease. He trails along behind Grey Wind, allowing the wolf to choose their path. And Grey Wind comes to rest at Elrond's side, at which point robb steps up, digs a hand into the scruff of fur at the massive wolf's shoulder.

"My apologies, sir. I'd not meant for him to disturb you."

[summerlord]

Elrond cannot deny that he is very alert to the wolf's approach; the animal is massive but not aggressive -- and accompanied by a man. Elrond does relax -- though neither his state of alertness or the relaxation is all that evident -- at the man's words. He shakes his head, expression mild.

"It is well. You are both welcome here." His expression turns wry. "Had I not wished for any sort of company, I would not have come."

[northerner]

He's newly arrived. Or so Robb assumes, for he does not recognize the man's face and Robb likes to think he's a passing familiarity with those aboard. It was the same here as it had been in Westeros, with his bannermen. Robb served with the others on the security team, cycled through the ship, and he took note of the faces he passed. His fingers twist into Grey Wind's fur, soothing, and he inclines his head.

"Then allow me to introduce myself. My name is Robb Stark, King in the North in the land of Westeros, and my companion is called Grey Wind, and he means no harm to you."

OTA

[longestnose]

Fili had brought the small bag of weed that Marty had provided with him, the bag hanging at his waist, along with his pipe. The instruments were strung across his back, as he had promised Thranduil that he would bring.

He had left the crown at home, of course--it was an ever present thought in his mind, but he was trying to not think of it, and what had been brought with it--some time with friends and family would do him some good.

They could all use a bit of cheering.

So as he found a place to sit, he can be found either setting up his pipe for smoking, or strumming along a song on his harp, or playing on his fiddle--anything to keep things light.

\o/ music yay

[makalaure]

Eventually Fili might hear someone nearby humming along with his music. Maglor mostly lurks on the edges of the party, not really being in a particularly festive mood, but he can't resist the siren call of alcohol and (hopefully) good music. Music is, after all, his first and main love. He has a very good singing voice and matches pitch perfectly but he does not (yet) know any of the lyrics, so humming along is the best he can do, unless he gets his own harp out. He hasn't yet - he's just carrying it around.

[longestnose]

Fili hears the man humming, and when he turns his head slightly while he continues moving his strings along his fiddle, his eyebrows raise just a bit--it is an elf that he hasn't seen before.

"Hail, master elf. I did not know we gained another this jump besides the lord of Rivendell."

sorry for the delay. c:

[makalaure]

He smiles faintly and shrugs. "I have kept mostly to myself, though I confess the prospect of new music has lured me out."

Well that and the mead.

[acapriciousthing]

Death sips at the mead with an appreciative smile. Who is she to object to a wide open party? And she'd brought cookies. People appreciated you more when you brought cookies than they did when you were collecting their soul.

"It's been ages since I've had mead." It had rather fallen out of fashion.

[summerlord]

He hears her comment as he is passing by; he'd just refilled his cup. Thranduil did manage to make good mead on this ship. He would have to ask how it was managed. Elrond almost cannot help the comment he makes as he catches her eye.

"And longer still since you have had good mead?"

[acapriciousthing]

"That too. A lot of the tricks were lost as it fell out of fashion among humans." Oh, other planets had something similar, of course. But not quite the same ingredients, so not quite the same taste. Every world was unique when it came to food and drink.

[summerlord]

"The tastes of men are ever-changing," Elrond answered. "Eventually, some will attempt to bring back old recipes and traditions. Sometimes, they are even successful."

OTA

[naytheist]

Cesare's introduction to the ship had been a frustrating, overwhelming moment for him to say the least and, although he had been assured that they were all the freest of prisoners, he nevertheless felt uneasy about the situation, made slightly on edge by his peculiar surroundings with its off-puttingly artificial lights and overly smooth surfaces. Instead of the familiar, assuring hum of cicadas and other insects in the Italian heat, Cesare was left with a cold, whirring hum of a machine that he did not understand. Perturbed, he had thought it best to attempt to return as best he could to his old routine and, as such, the open invitation to the gathering was a welcome one, one which Cesare swiftly took up, grabbing a cup of mead and finding his place against a tree where he could quietly watch the festivities.

He had only drunk one glass, yet could could already begin to feel its effects on him. This ship was certainly an unusual place indeed.

gently slides in here.

[jilt]

Irene doesn't make a habit of visiting the Gardens, beyond a few token appearances to rattle Ned. Her persuits tend to lie elsewhere, visiting or reading or swimming in the strange smelling pools ( that had taken her a long while to work up to, after sherlock's death, but still ) but there's a gathering, and Irene does like to at least poke her head in, to see what she can see. There's drinks and people milling about, and disaster of some nature has yet to strike, so it's already a success as far as she's concerned.

"Only watching, good sir?" is what she says, straying to Cesare's side. She's not gotten herself a cup of anything, preferring to watch and wait, still uncertain about whether or not she intends to stay. "Or do you need another cup or two before you partake of anything else?"

heygurl. i heard you might have a fondness for dark, handsome men with facial hair

[naytheist]

Cesare catches her gaze for the briefest of seconds, giving her a small polite nod, a habit embedded in him by his upbringing, before returning to the scene in front of him and taking another hefty swig from his glass. He's only looked at her quickly, but it's enough for him to determine that's she's a woman, not one of the confusingly effeminate men that he's seen already with their long gowns and flowing hair. Her attire's tighter at the waist than he's used to, but it's the closest he's seen to anything of his world in this place, aside from his sweet sister, and as such he's somewhat keen on her already, though he won't let it show just yet.

"Should I be joining them, my lady?" he asks calmly. "I see you, yourself have yet to indulge in tonight's more vinous offerings."

you heard right bro totally legit

[jilt]

"Perhaps I'm waiting for someone to offer me a cup."

Before she arrived, there had been three husbands to trip over themselves for her. Irene had that very rarely here, but at times there were people who carried themselves in a familiar manner. He isn't quite of her world, but he's closer than most. Close enough to earn himself a sweet smile, a coy tilt of her head.

definitely ota

[unbraided]

It's been months since the last party Thranduil had held in the gardens, and Kili finds that it is a welcome reprieve from the worries this jump, and others before it have brought about. Everyone could use a bit of cheering up, and a party was just the way to do it. There's no Dorwinion this time, but that's alright in Kili's book, really. Besides that, he's hardly a shy dwarf, greeting everyone with a smile and a pleased 'Hello', an offer of a drink following quickly no matter whether he knows them or not.

Later on, he might be found with one of the instruments his brother has brought down from their room, fiddle or harp, and the more he drinks the higher a chance that he'll be belting out drinking songs.

dwarf drinking songs need to happen

[makalaure]

Maglor mostly sticks to the edges, avoiding people and simply enjoying the mead and watching people. However, one thing he cannot bring himself to hide from is music - particularly music he hasn't heard, and one thing he has not heard much of is dwarvish music. He has heard some, of course, but although he has in the past taken an interest in their language, the study of dwarves and their culture was much more the domain of some of his brothers. Most of his interactions with the dwarves had been planning for battles or negotiating trade - not times of merriment like this.

So really, hopefully Kili doesn't mind that once he starts to play, he has an audience! Or at least his audience is plus one tall, lanky dark haired elf with a harp of his own. ... plus one elf who will probably start humming along soon enough and might very easily be prompted into joining in.

lets do dis

[unbraided]

The thing is, if it had been half a year ago, Kili would have minded. As it is, he glances up when there's a sudden elvish presence and tips his head in a nod Maglor's way. The harp gets a curious look, brow quirked, and Kili plays the same song once more from the beginning, wondering if the strange elf can follow along.

Besides, how is he to know where or when Maglor comes from? Even if it is not common for elves to know dwarvish drinking songs. Still.

"You can play?" Because clearly someone would be carrying around a harp if they didn't know how. Good going Kili.

for thranduil and merry.

[fallasleep]

[ Alright, he doesn't particularly want to come, but there's a purpose to it, Roy knows. The things he took from the medbay over the last several days sit on his lap, covered by the ever-present blanket over his legs. He thinks that they feel cold, in the strange way that someone like him can feel anything.

Thranduil will be proud. It's a sardonic thought. But it might be true. After all, didn't he get out of bed himself and wheeled himself here? He knows he can do it; he always could, even back in the hospital. He just never wanted to.

But he wants to now. For the mead. Though not, perhaps, in the way that anyone else might think that means.

Now he's wheeled himself next to a brook, looking down at the rushing water, at the soil beneath his wheelchair that should be false - because they're in space - but is as much a real jungle as anything. He doesn't initiate conversation with anyone, but waits for whoever might come and find him. ]

OTA! \o/

[makalaure]

Maglor doesn't come for the company. He doesn't come because it's lonely lurking by yourself in out of the way places on the ship. He doesn't come because he wishes to enjoy being around others for a while. At least... that's what he would say if asked.

In reality he is somewhat lonely, and more than that, the allure of strong drink and new music is more than enough to bring the tall, thin elf out of seclusion and into the gardens. After acquiring drink (and maybe some food), he mostly keeps to himself and just enjoys being around people and listening to the song of their chatter and any accompanying music. He has brought his swords with him, but he has left all other weapons in his room. He would have left these, too, except that he has heard dangerous things lurk in the depths of the ship, and it does not hurt to be prepared. But more interesting than the swords, he has brought his harp.

Eventually he might be persuaded to play, and he'll keep it to lively, happy music. Relaxing things and things one can talk to or even dance to. He might even sing - and now that is a real treat, for both his voice and his playing are quite beautiful. On the ship, their power is lessened, but even so if you listen well, you may feel your spirits lightened and you may even catch glimpses in your mind's eye of the far off lands and bright flowers and joyful things he sings about... such is the nature of some elvish music, after all.

can i make a horrible joke (again) about crashing sindarin parties?

[summerlord]

He hears the music before he sees Maglor. The tune is lively and brings to mind pleasant memories -- and, in doing so, identifies the elf behind the harp without question. In all honesty, Elrond is actually quite surprised that Maglor came to the gathering. He would be a fool not to think of Thranduil's history in Doriath and Sirion with Maglor aboard the ship. He leaves the comfortable spot he has made his own and quietly makes his way toward Maglor. If his own somewhat wrecked state of mind is anything to compare to, then he does need to check on Maglor.

He comes upon Maglor in the midst of a song and eases into his line of sight before settling in to simply listen for awhile. This, he will not interrupt.

ALL THE TERRIBLE JOKES. They really slay me, you know.

[makalaure]

But all songs come to an end, and in time this one does, too. Maglor takes a break - as much because his hands need a rest as because Elrond is here. He gives a faint smile and lifts his half-empty cup of mead in toast before drinking a swallow to wet his throat.

"Very few seem inclined to dance today," he remarks. Clearly this is more appropriate than 'hello how are you'. (But really he very much doubts either one of them wishes to answer that question honestly.)

adoption-scouting hobbit on the loose

[bemerry]

Merry is enjoying drink himself, wandering about the different scattered groups of people and simply being cheerful, humming and dancing his own drinking songs and generally trying to keep up spirits by simply being himself. So seeing a somewhat familiar face looking in the lonely way demands being corrected.

He's had a good bit to drink, but still isn't very drunk yet, be it from natural disposition or the fact he keeps burning off through good activity and eating, or perhaps both. Still, while he's in his cups enough to keep dipping into them, he's quite aware enough to try and give company to someone else in need.

"You look better, Master Elf."

Merry's smile is bright and kind as he moves to sit down and scooch up next to the best musician he's found yet.

"Care to try a hobbit-song with me?"

\o/ hooray!

[makalaure]

Maglor smiles in return - less bright but nevertheless genuine. He nods as Merry sits down, shifting a little to better accommodate a hobbit sitting close beside, letting the piece he is playing trail off.

"I would love to. I am eager to hear what music is made by such a bright and merry folk." Yes, he is quite aware of his pun.