DCI T. NIGHTINGALE (
ettersberg) wrote in
nysalogs2017-12-02 09:29 pm
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( open ) december catch-all
Who: Thomas Nightingale (
ettersberg) & various
What: piloting, mistletoes, everything else
When: december
Where: thesa, wyver, olympia
Warning(s): none yet
drift compatibility
mistletoe
wildcard
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
What: piloting, mistletoes, everything else
When: december
Where: thesa, wyver, olympia
Warning(s): none yet
drift compatibility
[ he's flown in planes before, of course — even british wizards had to cross the channel somehow and anyone who'd have suggested broomsticks would have been the laughing stock of the entire folly, because it doesn't work that way. even before the war, he'd travelled as part of the foreign office, sometimes by plane and sometimes not.
no plane he's ever been in can compare to the ship he's in right now, strapped into one of the pilot seats and glancing at the controls in front of him with a somewhat sceptical expression. ]
I'm afraid I'm not quite sure how this is meant to work.
mistletoe
[ nightingale returns to olympia and settles into a routine in as much as he can. it hadn't been close to any holiday period when the world had ended for him, but it seems to be growing colder here and there is an increased air of festivity to everything.
every now and again, nightingale will find himself beneath a mistletoe at the same time as someone else, though never by design. if he notices the plant, he might try to simply ignore it, but if his companion notices as well, he'll speak: ]
Were there any traditions attached to it in your world?
wildcard
[ write your own starter, hit me up atabiosis for one, whatever floats your boat. ]
Mistletoe
Just as he approaches him, he notes the peculiar leaves hanging from above. Is that... mistletoe? He tries to ignore it in favor of a casual conversation, but when Nightingale asks about it, Venom responds:]
I've read about a couple of traditions, but not in depth. I just know people are supposed to kiss under it.
[It seems kind of silly to him when he says it out loud.]
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Ah, yes.
[ for a moment, his lips curve into a hint of a smile. ] My world had those traditions as well.
[ though he seems content enough to ignore them for the moment, to idly chat about rather than to act on them. ]
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[He examines one of the mistletoe, noting how green it is against the environment.]
This might be a bit forward of me to ask, but have you ever, ah, partaken in the tradition?
[He's more curious than anything. Did people really kiss under the mistletoe? It's not just a myth or something, right?]
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mistletoes are a safer topic of conversation than the war, as far as nightingale is concerned. perhaps that why he admits: ] Once or twice, when I was younger. The tradition was that one would have to pluck a berry from the mistletoe and once there were none left anymore, there would be no more kisses.
[ he'd kissed a woman or two under the mistletoe, mainly on the cheek. he'd never quite seen the appeal, and kissing a man under the mistletoe had been out of the question in the times of nightingale's youth. ]
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[Venom can't say he's ever kissed anyone under the mistletoe. Of course he's almost never been kissed until he arrived here. He's not sure of the protocol when the mistletoe hangs from more than one spot. So far, he's been eyeing them but not doing anything.]
And I admit, it's kind of romantic. I take it many kisses were had that day?
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mistletoe;
. . . yes. It's a ridiculous tradition, though.
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I don't disagree. [ and after a moment, he adds: ] I'm perfectly content to ignore it.
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It's nothing to do with you, Mr. Nightingale. I simply . . . mm. I've had a lifetime of avoiding men and their supposed cleverness when it comes to mistletoe.
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[ he mulls that over for a moment. truth is, he can imagine it. he's seen the other inhabitants of the folly, sure in their privilege and superiority, and how they'd treated the female servants, how they'd handled themselves at banquets, how they talked amongst themselves.
not something nightingale had ever been interested in for a variety of reasons. ]
My condolences.
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I hardly allowed them to come near.
[She leans back against the doorframe, folding her arms under her chest. They're in public, but this isn't an often used doorway; they won't be blocking anyone for a while.]
Tell me the traditions in your world. Is it simply a kiss?
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» clark
[ it's an odd sensation. nightingale is quite used to things other would consider odd, but for a moment, he still leans back, shoulders curving in, as though that would provide some shelter from the sensation. it doesn't, of course, and nightingale straightens a moment later, tightly clasping his sense of uneasy surprise and pushing it aside. ]
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Because when I woke up, there were parts of it that hurt.
And before I connected with someone in one of these ships, I thought it would make it hurt more.
I can't say it's universal, but for me, it actually made it hurt less. To feel connected to someone like that.
[ To feel a little less alone. ]
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(he has his reasons. ettersberg was decades ago, and the name still manages to make him flinch at times.) ]
My apologies. [ he says, after a moment, and means i'm sorry that i won't open up enough to make you hurt less. but that sounds silly and strange and he's not even certain whether it would work like that. whether that's how clark perceives it. ]
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You don't have anything to apologize for.
[ The ship connects them, somewhat, as much as it needs to. And what Clark feels on the other side isn't the sort of thing he feels someone should apologize for. He knows how it's like, being like that. There are still times where he's like that. Right now, he can't be, for good or ill. But he'd never hold it against someone.
Even this helps. It's not hands held, but it is... a touch. Grounding. ]
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beyond that, he doesn't react. there's a sense of understanding coming from clark, of acceptance and appreciation, subtle though it may be. it unclenches something in nightingale — not entirely, but enough that his own hold over his emotions loosens a little.
which is why clark gets to feel the surprise that turns into the single-minded determination of someone familiar with combat when the first meteorite comes their way. ]
Left. [ nightingale says, swerving his controls near immediately. ]
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the not a date
not worried at all.
it's just drinks with a new friend, that's all. ]
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here? he thinks of peggy carter and of eggsy, though that particular relationship is one that he can't quite classify. (he'd slept with eggsy, too. that had been more sex in a week than he'd had in almost a normal lifetime.)
drinks with a new friends is thus a somewhat odd notion to thomas, though he's glad for it. he's a little early, dressed in a three-piece suit of fine wool, a hat perched atop his hair and his silver-topped walking cane that is still not a walking cane but a wizard's staff in one hand.
thomas spots john approaching, lifting one hand in greeting even before john's arrived. ]
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anyway, it's something John's familiar with, hanging around with ridiculously overdressed posh boys and barely even noticing the suits anymore, so it's not uncomfortable. if anything, beyond even the aesthetics of it, it's nice.
getting close enough to greet him, John offers a ] Hi, [ and his hand's about to reach out to shake— which is the weirdest, most uncomfortable thing he's done today, and it doesn't make it all the way into an offer. instead, he claps his hands together, tilts his head in the direction of the bar. ] Right, shall we? Save us standing around out here. It's getting chilly, isn't it?
[ God above I beg you strike me down. this is going to be a time. ]
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he doesn't always appreciate how much the suits make him stand out these days when once upon a time, they'd been quite normal not only for the higher echelons of society, though of course cuts and fabrics had differed. sometimes, though? sometimes, he almost enjoys it.
right now isn't one such time, but neither is he bothered by his own attire. he isn't thinking very much about it at all, more focused on offering john a small smile and a nod. ]
Hello. [ and ] It is, yes. [ getting chilly, that is. john's -- nerves? do not go unnoticed, but thomas was raised better than to comment. though it does make him wonder how casual john really is about this evening.
(his own feelings on the matter are very firmly pushed down and away, lest they interfere with anything.) ]
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he knows how to handle himself on a date. he knows how to handle himself on a night out with mates. he doesn't know what to do in the company of the man he slept with a while ago and never called afterwards.
it's a fucking mess, is what it is. but he instigated this. so here they go.
a small, awkward laugh, and John's nodding along too. then turning around, to lead the way. ]
It's not far. Nice place. They serve good wine and craft ales, can't complain.
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mistletoe
(a complete British stranger, by the sounds of it) ]
That all depends on who you ask.
[ is he going to clarify that? oh, eventually. but he makes it his policy to almost never provide a straight answer, even when he's asked the most innocent of questions. ]
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Different traditions, then?
[ the question is mild. he doesn't have any particular stake in getting a straight answer on the matter, aside from a police officer's instinctive desire to dig deeper when someone grows evasive. that instinct is balanced, most days, by nightingale's upbringing in a time in which social etiquette mattered a great deal. ]
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Something like that. West of the Iron Curtain, especially in America or Britain [ though he supposes the other man could just sound British, like so many of the others... ] it's usually for kissing. [ a pause ] But in my homeland, we aren't supposed to celebrate anything like Christmas. After all, according to Marx, religion is the opiate of the masses.
[ assuming the man knows who Marx is. ]
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[ nightingale most certainly knows who marx is, and he knows the quotation as well. he's lived through the entirety of the cold war, through what came before and after it, too. (he's a great deal older than he looks.) ]
In England, it most certainly was for kissing, and Christmas was hardly a religious holiday anymore.
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[ a chuckle. ]
That being said, while Christmas isn't exactly celebrated, New Year's is an entirely different matter.
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i'm not 100% sure what year actually....... whoops
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