open | a merry meri mingle

[sterngaze]

Who: Meridians new & old!
What: Cookout mingle
Where: Alenroux
When: Mid-March, after Vander's rescue
Warnings: Potentially alcohol consumption and violence, for the rowdy

After the initiation of Springstar's invasion plans for Alenroux, tensions among the Meridian-aligned might be a bit strained. The move comes as a surprise even for many of the shard-bearers within the faction itself, to say nothing of those whose livelihoods depend on the farms here. It's not yet clear what Highstorm's response will be, but one will certainly be coming; when that happens, someone is going to come out on the bottom, and their blood will be at least partially on Meridian's hands.

At times like this, the importance of maintaining morale can't be understated. A call goes out to the newest generation of those harmonized with Meridian's light: it's time to have a party!

PREPARATION:

Those who can are invited to help with the set-up. There are drinks to procure, foodstuffs to acquire and prepare, canopies to erect for shade, entertainments to organize. It's not meant to be a grand affair — the gathering is private, intended to foster camaraderie among the shard-bearers after long days and nights of work — but it will be a comfortable one, with edibles and enjoyments to offer to those taking solace in the company of their fellows.

It takes one of Alenroux's long days to make all the necessary arrangements — and then, late the following morning, after the night's monsters have slunk back into the woods, things are made ready. All that's left is for the guests to arrive.

THE EVENT:

Spring is still in the midst of taking hold over Alenroux, so a tall bonfire at the centre of the gathering place offers a toasty place to linger and chat throughout the day. Hot drinks and a variety of fire-roasted foods are on offer, including an entire deer helpfully supplied and prepared by Liem. Logs and stumps provide simple seating, and nearby canopies provide shade around the tables of food and drink. A little further away, sturdy tents provide more private gathering places for those wishing for a break from the hubbub.

And there will be hubbub. To break the ice between unfamiliar faces, a variety of contests have been set up over the course of the gathering. These range from simple arm-wrestling competitions, to three-legged races, to friendly sparring matches for those so-inclined. Gathered Meris are encouraged to spectate and bet amongst themselves on contest outcomes — and better yet, to volunteer to participate themselves during the next round.

For those who have already had a chance to relax and let off some steam, the gathering is a perfect opportunity to get to know one's fellow sect-mates a little better, and to reaffirm why Meridian called to them in the first place. Those gathered are encouraged to take the chance to tell a few tales about the place they came from, and to share the visions inside their Sunbeam with those from other worlds. A favourite place, a cherished person, an unkept promise, even an old enemy: all could be worth revisiting for a moment with new comrades in arms.

Comments

mamoru hijikata / iconoclast

[prizeneck]

General

[Someone has been busy.

Despite Mamoru not being entirely convinced about this takeover, it doesn't change that he fits into the scene like a piece of a puzzle. Eventually, he's seen talking to commanders and those in the roles of authority, providing insights, small inputs that aim for efficiency and productivity. Some of the forces start stopping him while he walks around, or approach him when he's settled somewhere or eating, asking about how to take care of issues in their perimeter, how strike teams should be organized and rotated, and what to do if there's an eventual ambush or attack. In fact, it's here, and not in Highstorm, Springstar, or even Kowloon, that you may find Mamoru most at ease, his stance watchful and considerate of the people in the location, even if he does tend to keep to himself for the most part.

You may find him in the midst of it, maybe nudging someone's stance into correction when they are practicing how to stand after an attack with a sword or even a glaive (a simple touch to the middle of the shoulder blades, a tap with his foot on that person's heel is enough), or listening in to the strategic motions and operations of those who are a bit more invested in this.

Or maybe you find him outside of the walls, checking out the surroundings, keeping monsters at bay, maybe even encountering someone not from his own faction. Most of all, you find him noting and muttering something after he touches the frame of his shades. As though he's keeping a record of things.]

1. WHERE'S THE LAMB SAUCE???

[Interestingly enough, even if he made no effort to help with the preparations or with engaging in the activities, a man has got to eat.

And a man has got to eat something proper, so when he sniffs something burning in someone else's pan, he walks around the serving table and starts talking about how the heat is not measured enough and when dealing with uncontrolled temperatures, you have to use your wrist, see? What the fuck were you thinking??

Eventually, he does keep grumbling whilst talking about how to do a stir fry and looking over and taste testing what others are doing and "get me some coriander; this is the blandest thing I've ever eaten—"

Some more daring and amused members gather around for the show-cooking display, some snickering and calling Mamoru, 'yes, chef!' (only to have the swordsman roll his eyes), others looking a bit daunted at the final product (the plating is horrendous). After some bets are placed and a brave soul tries it, their eyes light up, and immediately hide the dish from the others when they realize it's good; it's actually really good ('What? Let me try!' 'No way! Wait for your own!' 'You owe me ten!' 'Ah, c'mon!').]

2. You can't sit with us.

[He's not an extrovert.

And his whole circadian rhythm is absolutely shot. It's no wonder, then, that you may find Mamoru just seemingly sleeping on a seat somewhere, arms crossed over his chest and stretched legs crossed at the ankles. He may be doing this outside, in some quieter (and weirdly enough, one with a vantage point) place, or in a tent.

If someone does go near to him and challenge him for a match (arm-wrestling and sparring, mostly), he'll wave a hand at them.] I don't do that kind of thing for show.

3. We should just stab Ceasar (cw. slight violence)

[Not that the sunbeams really work that well with him, anyway, considering. He's mostly quiet as he listens to what other people provide him, curious. Mamoru is, after all, someone who tends to stray towards learning the most he can, especially if it'll be helpful for him in the long run. The swordsman cants his head slightly at certain notes, certain sounds, even the energetic imagery that the power of meridian seems to translate into your very soul.

He understands why most people are fighting to have their worlds back.

He also understands why everyone is fighting, period.

Eventually, he strays from the bonfire, the shadows cast around him stark black, engulfing his rather imposing frame into almost nothingness, a barely there sillouette. (That too, is where he fits in like a glove).

He draws the bead from his pocket, opens his hand as it rests on his palm.

There's the sound of loud, rapid gunfire, the smell of burnt rubber, and the slick of blood slathered across a cheek. Shrieks, yells, shouts of 'that guy is a monster!', a stuttering whisper of 'kill me before it's too late'.

Mamoru closes his hand in a fist, efficiently silencing everything, the echoes of it reverberating into the woods before the bark mutes them.]

4. Wildcard

[HMU for anythiiiing, I'm easy peasy.]

3! for fun!

[passio]

[ dextera had also kept his sunbeam hidden for a while, afraid of what it might end up showing. after all, even the places he finds comforting and the people he thinks of as friends are monstrous to those from “normal” worlds, as he’s learned over and over in describing what he knows of himself to others.

that’s why he notices when mamoru leaves, and he knows why mamoru leaves, too. his intention in following him is altruistic, since he figures that mamoru will know he’s approaching anyway, but he doesn’t expect to hear the memory played through the little amber crystal. ]

…

[ his own sunbeam pocketed now, dextera’s press for communion is surprisingly even. he doesn’t seem especially rattled by what he’s heard, except for the initial surprise of gunshots. ]

…you’re the monster?

[prizeneck]

[Ah, Dex. Your giving nature will be your downfall.

Not that he knows why Dex is following him, but he knows that it is Dextera, and that he is getting close, even as he unfurls his fingers and lets the tether to his world blare out, ridiculously loud in the middle of the woods.

When the communion comes, he's expecting it, though it feels like a knock-knock joke.]

I am.

[He pockets the bead.] And when I did kill her, it was already too late.

[passio]

[ dextera has been called a monster too, and maybe rightfully so, though all his crimes—the ones he recalls—were committed without full knowledge of what he was doing. mamoru seems perfectly aware of what he did and why he did it, but even so, dextera doesn’t know enough at all to judge him.

then again, dextera has no room to judge anyone at all. what’s one person, compared to billions? ]

…do you wish you hadn’t?

[prizeneck]

[It's not so much that Mamoru minds being called a monster. The word was weaved by people he had wanted to inflict fear on, and if they called him such, then his mission had been successful. It stirred his opponents' focus and reaction time to a nervous and skittish thing and made his work easier.

No, the worst thing he has been called didn't ring right then.

By a nicotine-stained, embittered and inquisitive, fatigued voice.

The furrow between his eyebrows deepens.] Wishing doesn't really help, does it?

[passio]

[ dextera knows. it doesn’t feel good to understand that, even so. ]

Wishing can make you sick.

[ in other words, he agrees, he’s wanted to change his own sins so badly he’s been physically damaged by it; mamoru has nothing to fear from dextera having heard. ]

…but you still want to go back, don’t you? Is it because you want to atone? Or…

[prizeneck]

[It's there that Mamoru does turn to where Dextera is standing, his boots scraping on the forest ground underneath the sole, the crackle loud to his ears within this muted conversation. Looking at him doesn't help him parse what he's feeling nor aid in any way in what he wants to convey. But it does lend to the whole feeling behind his words, the showcase of the quirk of his lip, or even a glimpse of the monster that it had been shouted about.]

I've been beyond atonement for a while.

[passio]

[ dextera wonders. he’s been thinking a lot about atonement. that’s what this all is to him, the desire to fix things and relieve the weight on his shoulders; if he isn’t beyond atonement in the cosmic sense, he doubts mamoru is either… but his experience with baroques knows that one’s sense of self can make all the difference.

if mamoru believes he’s an unsalvageable existence, then he is. ]

So why don’t you die?

[ it was dextera’s solution, even though it failed. he wonders what mamoru’s is instead. ]

[prizeneck]

[A huff of a laugh rolls out of his chest and mouth with some humor. The question is charged. So strong, in fact, he knows that were there any others listening in or the target of it, and they'd gasp, push back, shocked at Dextera's forwardness. The swordsman, instead, looks at the curious slant of his body and feels the trail that those words left behind before they made themselves known. Something ashen, dark, and yet so very personal.

And death. Well.

Mamoru is comfortable with the subject. Every day or night when he wakes up after yet again a short amount of rest, he imagines himself dying. A knife to the throat, a gunshot through the stomach. The sky suddenly falling. (And that one is the most terrifying, considering he hasn't seen the sky in so long.) There's something poetic to the end of his existence being as nonchalant as tripping on a rock. So, in a sense, the Mamoru that stands here doesn't budge because he already considers himself dead.]

Ain't what death is about. ['Life is hell, and its demons are here,' he once had heard.]

1

[bakedapple]

[ Link will eat just about anything. He'll try anything once. And while he cooks a lot, it's more like... campfire cooking, where you're using a chunk of slate pulled out of the mud of the river you're sleeping next to and using that as a makeshift grill over the fire. The addition of raw rock salt is about as fancy as he gets most days, with ingredients like milled flour or butter being luxuries only found in Hyrule's sparse villages.

So when he gets a whiff of his dinner burning in the steel pan sitting over the fire, he doesn't rush to take it off the flame like the average person would. He could never afford to be picky, and it's wild game, anyway — stringy and tough and of questionable health when it died.

Then that strange man barges in. Link has spotted him a few times so far while helping out around the outpost, but he hadn't paid him much mind. He seemed like someone high-ranking, too busy with his own important tasks for it to be wise for Link to bother him. Now, though... he's here, and he's turning Link's modest attempt at stir-fry into a spectacle. The most Link can do is take an uneasy step back and watch, eyes wide. By the end, a scoop of the transformed food is passed to him to try by one of the loitering soldiers. It's easy some of the best food he can remember eating. Which is isn't saying much when you can only remember the previous year of your life, but... still.

It's only when the soldiers are done eating and start to dissipate that Link attempts to approach the frypan again, eying the unknown man warily. ]

It was good. Thank you, I think. [ gestures to the pan. ] I'll handle the clean-up, if you like. As my thanks.

[prizeneck]

[One thing is for sure, Mamoru isn't expecting the ears, even if he's supposedly been here long enough not to be surprised by these traits that are out of the ordinary where he comes from.

But Link's own demeanor and posture are already a giveaway of what kind of elf(?) he was, anyway, and it's enough to pique his interest.]

Don't mention it; it's important to get proper nutrition in a place like this.

[And not one to hold back on a gift, though, he nods.] Go right ahead. I can't really tell if I washed it properly sometimes. [He points at the pan.] Careful, though. It's still hot.

[bakedapple]

[ Link isn't really a "washing up" kind of person, either. Campfire cooking doesn't really require any cleaning. But, he understands that proper cooking tools require maintenance, and that includes cleaning after each use. Not unlike weapons, actually.

With a nod, Link grabs the pan by its handle and starts stacking dirty dishes and utensils into it. ]

May I ask your name, sir? I've seen you around camp, but I haven't had a chance to introduce myself. I'm Link.

[prizeneck]

[Mamoru can definitely get behind that mindset. In fact, he couldn't agree more. Maintenance is something he cares about a lot, especially considering he doesn't have much to him in the first place.

(He doesn't need more than he already has, anyway.)

Suddenly wondering if he looks perhaps a bit older than most around here—he wouldn't be surprised, really, considering everyone here is either immortal or a special snowflake— to be called a 'sir,' he waves his hand dismissively, silently telling him that there's no need for that formality.] You can call me Mamoru.

[And really, he'd think he'd notice someone like Link.] You're new around these parts, or...?

[bakedapple]

[ No formalities, then? Link wonders what he might have done to deserve that, being the kind of guy to default to formalities in the first place, even if he didn't know that this guy has rank over him. But, after considering it for a moment, he gives him a slight nod. Just "Mamoru," then. ]

Yes... I'm new. One of the most recent new Shard-Bearers.

[ So, he's barely been here two weeks. Didn't take him very long to accept the Meridian, as his presence here suggests.

As they talk, he starts to scrape leftover food scraps off the collected plates and into the fire. ]

Everything has been... busy, so far. [ The word "busy" doing a lot of heavy lifting here. ] Have you been in this world for long?

[prizeneck]

[It's interesting to see a new shard bearer already amid this. Last he had heard, the latest 'batch' had been very recent, and most had been cautious not to get too involved. He doesn't blame them, however.]

Busy is one way of putting it. [He barks a chuckle.] I've been here a while. This isn't usually this busy, but I feel like we ain't resting any time soon.

[bakedapple]

[ As the food scraps burn up in the fire, they start to send up puffs of black smoke with... varying degrees of pungency. Link does not seem to mind it at all, though, nor does he seem too concerned with putting his bare hands so close to the flame. ]

I'm too new to have much to say about it all. But... the soldiers do seem a bit agitated to me.

[ Having scraped most of the utensils, plates, and the pan clean by now, he hooks his hands under the stack and hefts them up off the table. Behind him, a few yards away, is a large wooden washbasin; he keeps talking as he peeks over the top of the dirty dishes and carefully shuffles over. ]

I don't really know how much I can contribute, but... if doing dirty dishes will help us get back to our worlds faster, I'll wash dishes all day. [ He flashes him a smile before dropping his armful into the soapy water with an inelegant crash of metal against metal. Er... this stuff won't break, right? Let's just hope not. ]

[prizeneck]

[For someone with very sensitive hearing, the crash makes him grimace just a little bit, but doesn't really mention it.

Though, his question probably barrels a lot louder.] What makes you believe that the worlds can be brought back?

[Although he knows that being where he is, most people would think he believes in Meridian's ideals. At this point, though, he finds himself curious as to the various motivations of others.]

General

[hauntedking]

[ Like Mamoru, Dimitri's been guiding soldiers. Trying to train them and get them up to shape in this new expedition of theirs. It's something familiar for him. Something he can throw himself into without much worry or care (at least not on the surface) and it makes it easier to just... go through the motions. His unit has crossed paths with Mamoru here and there and it's one of those moments where he gives the other man a little nod. ]

How have you found the island? So far, it's been... almost peaceful. Some monsters, but nothing terrible or that we can't deal with.

[ He leans on his lance, looking thoughtful. ]

I'm not sure how this will look in the long run but for the moment... no problems.

[prizeneck]

[If he picks his own brain, he'll realize that this is probably the first time he sees Dimitri with a weapon. And suddenly, a lot of it made sense. While Dimitri seemed proficient in every kind, really, the lance seemed to suit him particularly well. The ease with which he talks to different units and maneuvers himself in the camp and its logistics doesn't really go unnoticed, either.

So when he comes over to talk and ask about his own thoughts, he nods.] This place's value lies in exactly that. It's a safe trading hub.

[His head cants to the side, pointing at the outside of their walls.] What do you think our neighbors will do?

[hauntedking]

[ Dimitri purses his lips at that question. It's a good one, honestly, something he's considered himself. HE doesn't know much of the Zenith war-making capability, so... ]

It's hard to say. It depends on if they are willing to risk open warfare with us or not. I think at the very least, they'll be scouting our positions and units, wanting to find out our numbers and our capabilities. Unfortunately, there isn't much we can do to stop that, short of chasing everyone we don't know away from our outposts.

[prizeneck]

And to think they could just be scouting around to see where their resources could go around us…

[He's interested in what Dimitri has to say about that. After all, he's caught plenty of other soldiers wondering why exactly they were there. And if Mamoru is honest with himself, he's not very sure about the reasons he was given, either.] You don't think this is too much of a stance for Meridian?

[hauntedking]

I think at the most basic level, wanting to ensure that people can eat is worthwhile. I simply don't know if military action to seize farmland is necessarily the best way to approach the problem...

[ He shrugs, offering a slightly chagrined smile. ]

There are downsides to it. But we are here and we should do our best to protect people.

[prizeneck]

[That's a good answer, really. Resources are resources but he knows that things like that are better handled on business tables rather than the boot-stomped grounds. Mamoru, however, replies with a slightly intrigued furrow to his brow.]

You sound like we don't have a choice.

[hauntedking]

...do we not? We have decided to align ourselves with Cyrus' cause and as far as we know, we have no other way to restore our homes.

[ Dimitri frowns. ]

If Zenith wins out, we may lose whatever chance we had to get them back. So... what is the alternative?

[prizeneck]

[He can't help but be somewhat amused, though it's not tauntingly so.] Just because our goals align doesn't mean we have to agree with the methods of the higher-ups, right?

[Whoever those are. He doesn't really believe Cyrus is the one pulling the strings, merely where the strings converge, with a pretty political bead for everyone to see.]