nysalogs | (mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

(mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

THE COALITION

On the day of the council, there are markers tied with ribbons in the colors of both Olympia and Wyver that line the paths from the cities to the South Outpost, meant to guide anyone with an invitation to the first meeting of the Coalition of Refugees.

While during the previous festivities of the gala the Great Hall was sharply divided between Olympians and Wyverns, the differences between the factions are not so apparent now. Inside, the hall is decorated with a more subdued mix of the white and gold of Olympia and the red and black of Wyver. Banners, pennants, and bunting drape from the ceiling and wind around wooden pillars. To one side of the hall, there are tables set up with drinks and finger foods — refreshments for the guests, for after the opening speech. A raised platform has been set up at one end of the room, flanked by contingents of both the Royal Guards and the Knightryders standing at attention side by side, differentiated only by the make of their armor and the colors they wear.

Ashti, Shenya, and Heryn stand waiting for the arrival of their monarchs, pointedly ignoring each other; notably, Raysc, Shanrian's son and the leader of Mythi's Fangs, is conspicuously absent.

Staff members cluster to the side of the stage, waiting for the speech to begin. A whisper drifts over from a woman in one of the Olympian groups: Do you really think the Empress will try to negotiate for Nithor's skull?

The man she's speaking to shakes his head and scoffs, answering: Ha! Not a chance. She thinks it's too soon, who knows if this peace will last. Besides, there's no way she's willing to give up Ysevrai's heart.

A horn sounds, and the staff members subside, glancing around to see if anyone's overheard. A moment later, and Simwe and Shanrian make their appearance, walking together to the stage for their speech.

Aha… we have quite the gathering here, do we not? All of our heroes in one place… This may be an unprecedented meeting, but it seems as though it will be a productive one. Let us begin by thanking all of you for your contributions to our cities in recent times.

Since your arrival, you have weathered the plague that swept through our cities and aided us in finding its cure; you have withstood the scorn of those who were meant to shelter you turning against you, and helped us quell riots in the very hearts of our homes; you have been taken right off the streets and endured hardships too terrible to tell, and have proven heroes in bringing our people safely home. You have done much for us, and shown yourselves loyal beyond many who were born within our walls. We will allow your voices to go unheard no longer! Today—

Today, we will hear you. You have demonstrated both strength and valor in equal measures — it follows that you will be wise as well, and it is that wisdom that we wish to hear brought in council to our cities. You are gathered here to look beyond our history of violence and hostility, to see beyond the prejudices we hold. We hope that with your clearer sight, you'll keep in your hearts the betterment of both of our fair cities, rather than allow pettiness to hold sway and lift one over the other.

Those gathered here are deemed worthy by action and by the trust of your brethren: a council. Amongst yourselves, decide what matters most to you about your lives within the cities. Discuss what changes you wish to see, and how those changes should come about. Reach an agreement, put your motions to us, and should they be feasible, we will see what sort of effect your ideas will have. The two proposals with the most support among your fellows will be those we implement, so argue your reasoning most convincingly!

And remember, this is your chance to impress us. If your advice is sound, we will look to you again.

At this, both rulers fall silent, and withdraw to a balcony to oversee the proceedings. This is not their meeting, after all — this is something that only the refugees can determine the outcome of.

FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to your first chance to have a voice in the NPC governments, Players! Your task is, as a group, to decide the two most important IC issues you would like to see Olympia and Wyver address, and then put forward a plan of action for how to improve whatever those problems are, which will then be implemented in May.

Since these are strictly Olympian and Wyvern issues, topics should still adhere to the Natha's policies of not revealing anything about the Storm or the Natha's existence, but beyond that, you're free to propose any topics you think should be addressed about your characters' way of life in the cities — after all, haven't the Orbiters sent you here to make a difference and improve life on El Nysa in their stead?

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Well. Yes he did. But...

John reaches for his own drink and takes a hesitant sip, giving Ianto his best kicked-puppy expression.

"I mean, if you want to. You didn't exactly sound like you wanted to..."

So, you know. He trails his eyes down self-consciously and shrugs.

They are. Natasha was very good at that. Knowing the right words; not exactly something I picked up on, though. [For Natasha it was less of a skill, not muscle memory or knowledge, but just something she could pick up on, something intrinsic to Natasha and the way she saw the world. Ava was sharper, more angry, quicker to hit back rather than use the violence to twist the situation. Natasha loved being under-estimated and Ava hated it.

He's not wrong about her. In fact, probably sees more of her than Coulson or Natasha or anyone other than Sana or maybe Alexei have. But Alexei is a hard subject for her, why she hasn't talked about him much. There are questions that she still hasn't entirely parsed out for herself.] I'm not dense, thank you. I just would rather someone that can speak up for what they want, without being gross about it. [She laughs a little, a curl of her lips as she looks up at him.] And it was fine. You told me what I wanted mattered.

[She shrugs her shoulders a little, but the truth is that was an important thing for a girl raised as she had been. Was probably part of why she's always been pretty good about setting boundaries and fuck anyone that crossed them. It wasn't until she was fencing with a boy at a tournament that anyone had really caught her eye. Rumlow raises an eyebrow at her and she meets his gaze, looking up into his eyes with a smile. She likes the way that he looks at her- like he's seeing her for real. Who she is now instead of who she was. As an adult and not a child.]

Well, it wasn't just because I had an agenda. But yes, I'd like that.

Ianto scoffs into his drink, but he supposes he hadn't given John much evidence to the contrary. Complaining about the sun and his distaste for the outdoors in general.

Sighing he lowers his glass again. "Listen," he says. "I'm Welsh. You should be worried if I stop complaining. And if I've agreed to something, that means I want to do it. No matter how much griping I might add to the contrary. Alright?"

So please stop giving him the kicked-puppy expression. He really does want John to give him a chance. He wants to feel like he's worth giving a chance.

I've definitely been a couple 'chatty furball' planets, but they've never looked like terran raccoons. [ Spellcheck really hates the s on there. Is the plural of raccoon not raccoons. Google says it is. What the fuck. Anyway, ]

I guess there'll always be an assumption that everyone comes from a homogenized culture, somewhere.

Any capacity is better than none. [ Jim is going to keep this rag-tag effort positive and peaceful if it fucking kills him, alright. He's not naturally good at pure optimism, needing to anchor it with momentum and stubbornness, but it's something he's learned to manage as Captain Kirk. ]

How've you been?

His eyes lift again and fix on Ianto, a touch uneasy before he clamps down on that and nods.

"Sure," but there's something a little reflexive about it. It's the sure of someone who is agreeing as much to make peace as because they actually agree. "Though... if you want to just... hang out, I mean, we can just. Hang out."

Ianto doesn't seem angry anymore, but the sting of him getting up and nearly leaving is still there.

Edited (repetition ) 2018-05-06 22:24 (UTC)

If his smile turns slightly knowing for a second, that's between them-- maybe later he'll react more; tonight's all business, despite is apparently light attitude. Some of his cheer right now is for the benefit for everyone but himself - he's inclined to take this a little more seriously, a little more militant, but he knows very few other people actually come from such regimented backgrounds. He's also very invested in not giving the native forces any reason to become unhappy with their presence.

"I'm alert, but there's no point in doom and gloom. This coalition is an unprecedented effort between these cities, and I'd rather nobody head in there braced for something terrible. Leave that for us out here."

About the ring, he shrugs. "I'll let you know if I need it for anything, but go ahead and hang onto it. I'm pretty good at getting hit as it is."

Well that's disappointing.

[ He refills his glass anyway, because he's already set down this path of bad decisions. ]

I thought you'd at least have the courtesy to walk me home. You know, so you can stand on my doorstep and call me an asshole when I try to invite you in.

[ He's at least a realist. ]

Ianto feels a bit as though he has done something wrong, with the way that John is suddenly responding to him. Which is ridiculous, because as far as he's concerned he was entirely justified. But it makes him feel guilty nonetheless. He doesn't want John walking on eggshells around him. He just doesn't want -- that. To be implied that he is any less of a man because of who he is or what he likes. Or what he doesn't. It's a touchy subject, alright.

"I'd like that too. Maybe with some drinks again?" he adds, raising his glass at the other man, hoping to placate whatever it is that has set the other man on edge.

[ Distantly, Jim wonders if that cable has anything to do with the irregular bone protrusion on the back of the kid's neck he saw when he pulled him out of that room in the tower. Jeez. Rough way to pilot anything.

But: he keeps up the totally stoked mood, because he is. ]

Barbatos. [ It's easy to take the bond between man and machine easily, what with his love for the Enterprise. ] I had no idea the Natha could even provide things like this.

"Yeah," John manages, and there's a little more life in the reply this time. "Maybe we can figure out what they call this stuff and buy more of it."

He gestures with his drink, takes another sip. Drinking solves most problems, right? Maybe it will even solve his terrible social skills.

It's either that or it makes them worse.

Asshole.

[She sipped her drink, smirking.]

Look at that. I'm a time-saver. Besides, if you keep drinking that shit, you're not going to be able to walk home, let alone form a complete sentence.

Sorry to say but that sort of skill comes with exposure and experience, so it's not easily replicated to be authentic. [When he needed to, he could be whoever he needed to be, which came in a handy in a place like this where no one but a small handful knew who he was.

Learning the gift of the gab was a hard one, and it required a natural shift in personality and body language to match a particular conversation. Some were extremely good at it like Secretary Pierce who could talk someone into a pretzel when he chose to and could recall key details of someone's life that they had only mentioned in passing in an email or in the hallways. It was amazing, and not even Rumlow was that good. He had wanted to be, but he was a soldier first and that came with a certain lack of tolerating bullshit.]

Sorry Ava, but like I said before: all boys are gross. It's in our very nature. Some just hide it better than others. [And yes, he would still break their thumbs if they did wrong by her, even if it was completely unnecessary. She could handle herself and her life better than anyone else, and she wasn't asking for help or permission, which was good.

He finished his drink and set the glass on a nearby table, rolling his shoulders in his suit like he was preparing himself for a brawl. Old family bullshit had required that he learn to dance and if he were being honest, it had always helped him to master fighting as well. And really, Ava didn't ask for much, if anything. What was a silly little dance?]

I think you're pulling my leg. It's all about the agenda. [He still jabbed an elbow out to accept her hand so he could take her to the middle of the room where a few couples were dancing to the small string band playing.]

John sounds a little more natural than he had before, and Ianto feels a little bit less like he's kicked him or taken his favorite toy away or -- well, as though he's scolded him for being bad which he supposes is something of exactly what he's done, in a way.

"Assuming we find some way of earning money," Ianto notes, which has been on his mind for a while now, they're going to make them start paying for everything sooner or later, including their housing for that matter, "the market district is sure to have something of the sort." If not exactly this than perhaps some other pseudo-ale for them to try, maybe?

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that."

John leans to set aside his drink, reaches for a bowl of tiny bar snacks and begins to feed himself the quasi-chip-like-things thoughtfully.

"So, it looks like my best option my be singing up for local guard duty. I'm..." He hesitates, holds out the bowl to Ianto as he frowns. "... Not sure I know these guys well enough for state work yet," he admits quietly, "but there's also a red light district. Which means there's bouncer work. I might take a look, feel out a few places."

He's not wildly into the idea of constantly ending up a smear on the ground if it's rough, but it also might net him free drinks and better local knowledge. Among other perks. You know.

Ianto glances aside at the other man, listening closely while he talks. He reaches out to take one of the chip-like snacks, nibbling on it thoughtfully as he contemplates the other man's words. No, he supposes he doesn't trust them so much to sign a confidentiality waiver either, or whatever it might take to do work directly for the Natha themselves. But a bouncer?

He tries to envision it and finds it isn't that hard to imagine, in a way. And in another way he isn't certain that John is hard enough for that line of work. Then again, he is military, so.

"You're a step ahead of me then," he says, leaning sideways against the bar beside him and taking another 'chip'. "I haven't got a clue." What do you do after Torchwood? What can you? To imagine himself serving up drinks in some shop...

Swirling his drink in his glass, he muses aloud, "I don't know that I'm all that skilled at anything they might want from me here, truth be told."

"Sure you do. You could be a... personal stylist. Help people match up their suits!"

Do they have those in Olympia? John has no idea. He sets down the snacks to switch for his drink again.

"Or work in whatever the local equivalent of a coffee shop is. You said you like coffee, right?"

So maybe he'd like whatever popular hot drink they have here. Maybe he'd be good at making it! You never really know until you try.

[ Fatality.

He was expecting it though so he just carries on. ]

I think I can handle it.

[ John, you absolutely cannot handle it.

As if on cue, he feels a weird burn in his chest and thumps it vaguely. Then smoke a bubble of smoke escapes and he winces slightly. ]

You really weren't kidding about that, huh?

I'm not much of a kidder.

[A sad state of affairs that had carried over into this new little planetary expedition she'd landed in, but hey, why change what ain't broke? She watched the smoky belch with a slight grin, hiding it with another sip.]

You say that now, but I'm going to wind up having to get your drunk ass home out of some sick sense of obligation for getting you fucked up.

Ianto flicks a smile at the other man. It's a good attitude to have. Jim is an awfully positive sort of man. Not that they've really faced anything dire together, apart from truly terrible weather, but he strikes Ianto as the sort of person to keep a brave face on no matter what. It's admirable, or at least Ianto himself admires it.

The answer about the ring surprises him, and he glances down at the object in question, running his finger over it before tucking it safely into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. "I'll keep it safe, then," he replies, "and hope that I won't need it myself."

"Will I see you in there at all?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. "Or is it all work and no play tonight?"

Ianto raises his drink and takes another long sip of it to keep himself from saying something bitter or mean. It's not John's fault all of those options sound dreadful to him. Nor is it John's fault that he might have to settle for one, in the end.

"Maybe," he replies at last. Playing with his glass in his hands as the next words spill out of their own accord. "My father was a master tailor." Shit.

"Oh yeah?"

He frowns at Ianto curiously, turning over the information. He's not exactly sure what a master tailor does. Makes fancy clothes?

"Well, maybe you could do that! Unless you're not into the whole following your dad thing. Which is fine. There's other stuff too. Bar tending? Delivery work? You could come try being a bouncer with me."

And yet? Way more humans and human-passing assholes on this planet than anything else. Crazy, right?

[Crazy is a word for it. Unbearably annoying is another.] Thanks for the casual racism, Darma.

[That part is just sarcastic, because, honestly, he doesn't care.]

( hopefully, there will be no need for anyone's death. isn't that what they're here to prevent? )

Well, thank you. ( as well as anyone can be, he supposes. some he cares about have gotten hurt in the recent abductions, but he himself hasn't. )

And yourself?

At least in future you can threaten me by saying you know where I live.

[ That.. doesn't help? Is it even funny?

Wow, this stuff is really starting to hit him now. ]

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(mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

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apologies for the delay!

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and now ........ i'm so late sry

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YOU ARE FINE I’m just happy to continue with them c:

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no worries!

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