(MINGLE) OPEN MIC NIGHT

[flashystyle]

Who: All The Refugee Veterans
What: A Meeting That Seems Mandatory But Really Is Just An Open Mic Night
When: April 7th, 11:00PM
Where: The Thesa Station
Warning(s): N/A



A week following an Omage Post and the distribution our heroes' awards, any character that pays mind to their devices will receive a forwarded message from Dorian Pavus (sparkler) on the evening on the 7th. Within is a mock version of the letters they received:

●●●●○ THESA

sparkler says:

You are incordially invited to the ACTUAL first assembly of the
Coalition of Refugees*
11:00PM, Thesa Station

DON'T BE LATE!
*we are NOT calling ourselves that.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Upon entering the conference room, arrivals will first hear music emanating from overhead speakers. The vinyl Here's Little Richard is playing on a turntable in the far corner, and several other records are on display (with a sticky note reading PROPERTY OF RICHIE TOZIER - DO NOT BREAK) to be exchanged when the tracklist has had its run. They will smell the food from the catering table of a week's work of preparation, featuring homecooked meals and dessert from other refugees that took his offer. But, most importantly, they will see the wide space of the conference room.

With the back of the room serving as a space for food, drink, the remaining half looks something like a lecture hall. There rows and rows of imperfectly placed sofas to recline in, all facing a large film screen to project images onto, which currently shows various locations of El Nysa. It's evident Dorian himself hasn't quite figured out how to produce a sleek design, though—the transitions are something straight out of Windows Movie Maker. However, it's more than they've had, and seems to be available for anyone to put the Station's database to use.

If you've arrived early, you might witness Dorian tapping his foot along to the music (he's just impatient, he will insist) and desperately downing a glass of champagne. He will inform you can help yourselves, gesturing towards the wide variety of meals (cooked chicken and complimentary sides from Venom, an abundance of meat pies from Rosalind, Welsh cake from Nash) that may or may not include something you remember only being on your homeworld, taken from the Natha's cookbooks. There are four kegs in a trolley (thanks to the efforts Eggsy Unwin), providing an overabundance of wine, mead, cider, and sparkling water. The sofas are comfortable, and even feature cup holders for a truly luxury experience. The advancements they've made for comfort is amazing.

If that alone isn't enough to keep you from being an uncomfortable wallflower (or just leaving), there are also items taken from the Lounge areas of the station—stacks of playing cards sit on the arms of sofas, and tables free of the catering to play them on. He seemed to have thrown them in last minute, as they're scattered around the room with little hint of order, but they're there. He tried.

SECOND IMPRESSIONS

For all that it seems like an incredibly boring, mediocre party, Dorian has made some effort to make the room more serious than the indulgences he offers. He's taken several items from the Exhibition Hall for a display for anyone that might have missed wonderful gems like their own portraits, the postcards, the buttons of the world they all know well. Tastefully (or rather, tastelessly), his own portrait is ahead of the rest.

But in stark contrast, there is also items from events past. There is a distinctly personal sign of those that were hailed as heroes in first entrance into Wyver, where the names of the refugees no longer with them are burnt out, as well as one of the first, damaged pods from the very arrival onto the planet itself. They line the back wall as objects would in a museum, highlighting everything they've partaken in since they've arrived. It isn't a particularly nice sight, but as his personal project, Dorian seems to find it necessary.

SPEECH! SPEECH! WAY TOO MUCH SPEECH.

At some point in the evening, Dorian will lower the volume of the music and rise to his feet. With a glass in one hand and a remote in the other, he descends on the space between the seating and the computer console and, with the slowness of a professor that does not know where to put their cursor, eventually pulls his mediocre slideshow of the world behind him. He places the remote down and picks up a microphone, tapping it for good measure, and speaks.

"You're probably wondering why I've gathered you all here..." He starts, an anxious grin on his face. He then continues to to point of why he requested them.

FINALLY:

But speeches are long and some might find the meeting is boring—there are all the tools for people to do whatever they want after he departs. The drinks are plentiful, the floor is open for an impulsiveness when the vinyls resume, and it is the whole point of the evening to relieve oneself of all the strife the refugees have endured. Air your grievances, to one another, or to everyone. Utilize the projector by plugging in your phones, for serious or completely ridiculous subjects As Dorian says, Maker knows they deserve to be a little happy.

Comments

[originallutece]

I think it's a good idea in theory, though I wonder how many people will truly share. But it's nice to see someone taking a stand.

[She deals the cards and leans back, contemplating them. She's not particularly good at it, but nor is she a fool.]

And I'd quite enjoy not using the word refugee anymore. And yourself?