ᴡʜᴏ: PRUDENCE WARREN & NAZANIN NABAVI ( @reblrths )
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: THE CAPITOL – CITY CENTRE
ᴡʜᴇɴ: SIXTH DAY OF THE GAMES, IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE FIRES
DISTRICT THIRTEEN was many things, but forthcoming was not one of them. The task Prue had been assigned was simple enough – safe enough. Or, at least, this is what Prue had assumed. She'd been instructed to head to the city centre, to keep an eye out for peacekeepers, for Capitol reinforcements. Just simple intelligence gathering – apparently, there was going to be some sort of resistance activity happening later in the day. What, exactly, Prue didn't know – she didn't have the clearance for that kind of information. There had been the consideration to simply go by herself – but when Nazanin had offered to tag along, Prue had been quick to agree. Then again, she was quick to agree to most things that Naz suggested. Especially if it meant spending time alone together.
All had been going well – they'd been scouting the streets for peacekeepers, bantering, and Naz's shoulder had even brushed against Prue's own in a way that made her heart flutter. She'd noticed the hours quickly ticking away – the time that she'd been instructed to return and report back long since having passed. Ordinarily, Prue was a stickler for a deadline, but she had become quickly engrossed in some story that Nazanin was telling, which led to another, and another – and by the time she'd found the presence of mind to tear her eyes away from Naz's lips and to her watch, dawn had slipped into early morning. She'd muttered something about needing to get back – but, before they had the chance, the Capitol started to burn.
She won't ever remember much of what had happened next – she will remember grabbing Naz's hand and starting to run as the building beside them was suddenly engulfed in flames. She will remember the screams of frightened Capitolites as building after building caught fire, as the foundations began to collapse and smoke clouded the streets. She will remember choking on the smoke and dodging debris as more and more of the city centre became an uninhabitable inferno and flames licked at her exposed skin. She will remember seeing blue sky in the distance – and almost, almost making it to safety, before the building in front of their path to escape came crumbling down.
And then, she won't remember much of anything at all.
Consciousness returns slowly. The first thing that Prue becomes aware of is a painful pounding in her head. The second is a raw feeling in her throat, cotton in her lungs. The third is that she is in the dark – surrounded by debris on all sides and trapped by large slabs of concrete. The fourth is a dull throbbing over her arms and legs. She squints against the darkness to see that her skin is red and raw, and her left arm has started to blister painfully from where it was exposed to the flames. The fifth ( and, by far the most important ) is that she is not immediately sure where Nazanin is. They'd been together, hadn't they? Naz had only been here because Prue had dragged them along – and now she couldn't see them.
"Naz –" Prue starts, cutting off as she coughs violently. Her voice is hoarse, but she swallows thickly a few times before trying again. "Naz?" She calls out, louder this time, as tears sting against her eyes. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay. "Can you hear me?" It's impossible to miss the way that her voice cracks on the last syllable.
“if you think i’m getting anywhere near that slope you are clinically insane..” viktoria protests as their arms cross over their chest, head tilting as they watch the figures traverse the slopes with ease, a talent they surely did not hold and had no desire to either. their breath is evident in the chilled air as they wrap their coat tighter around their slender frame, a bit of fireball still pumping a bit of warmth through their blood but they could tell it was slowly, but surely, slipping away. “so i’ll do anything but that.. alicia.” they explain with a soft smirk as they adjust their gloves and wrinkle their nose up.
celebrate the winter season in shrike heights at our annual resident winter celebration !
the shrike lodge and surrounding areas are always busy this time of year due to the influx of tourism from surrounding towns - but for two weeks of the winter, the owners of the lodge like to show appreciation for the residents of our very own town ! for the next two weeks, runs the resident winter celebration ! accommodation at the lodge, the hotel and the cabins are all reduced heavily in price for those of you who reside in shrike heights ! with this, comes a complimentary dinner at the restaurant for each night booked, along with discounted meals for the rest of the day !
along with the discounted accommodation, our residents are able to access an array of discounts on winter activities up in the mountain, from ski / snowboard rentals and access to our slopes, to ice skate rental down at lake love. if that doesn’t interest you, come and visit our north pole station by the lodge, where you can paint your own baubles, make your own snow globes, or even build your own gingerbread house, completely decorated by you ! and for those of you who celebrate, don’t forget to pick out your christmas tree at the christmas tree farm ! ( where you might even be lucky enough to meet some real life reindeer ! )
ooc info - happy holidays, everyone ! this event is run by the lodge, but extends over the mountain range and includes access to the lodge, hotel, cabins, ski slopes, lake love and the christmas tree farm ! the resident winter celebration is to make sure that the residents of shrike heights get to appreciate the attractions of their own town, especially during the busy holiday season. most locations are accessible on foot, otherwise there are buses that take people up and down the mountain for those who are unable to drive themselves. please note there will be no plot drop in relation to this event. please feel free to ask us any questions about the event if you have them !
"Beau!” Sera beamed as she caught sight of her brother, squeezing through the people in her way as she ran over. The cat ears slipped a little as she came to a stop in front of him, unconsciously reaching out to grab his sleeve. It was a new habit she rarely noticed, just making sure he was really there. “Having fun?”
It’s Cotilan! This event is a month before An Fidchell and, for the fey, is a day to go all out. It’s the prelude to the biggest secular event of both worlds. The attire is over the top, stunning, and ready for photography. Haute couture and designer fashions abound, each looking to be bigger and better than the last, draped in more finery, clad in more jewelry. Cameras climb closer on the walk into Guastavino’s, where the event is held, ready to memorialize and memorize each look. Despite the high society appeal, you don’t need an invitation to come... indeed, the fey enjoy their play things.
For timeline purposes, the event is timestamped for May 22nd at 8pm, while the ‘red carpet’ swank and swagger happens at 7pm. This is a one part event. Our next event is An Fidchell on June 21st.
Because the Unseelie won the coin toss for choosing the Imbolc venue, and because Beltaine was in unstaked Brooklyn, the Seelie held the cards for the setting of Cotilan this year. It’s uptown, on East 59th Street, and it’s called Guastavino’s. The entryway is gorgeous and though it’s cloudy in Manhattan today, the lights of this building and its outdoor gardens, where you can catch a breath, make the skyline glitter nevertheless—not to mention the impressive views of the Queensboro Bridge and the East River waterfront.
The interior foyer holds the open bar and is none too shabby, either. Here, guests can mingle and have candid photos taken; there is also an oldschool photo booth where people can draw the curtain and take polaroids together while others are still getting admired out front. Once 8pm rolls around, attendees are welcome to enter Guastavino’s proper. Inside, there is a grand ballroom complete with live orchestra, but that’s not where most people will initially settle. No, first, attendees will flood to the balconies.
In the balconies are table settings and a three course meal will be served. As the meal is going on, the balconies overlook the kickoff and true purpose of Cotilan. There is the Seelie host, Firethorn, sitting on an elevated stage; just behind him sits Forest, the Seelie Overseer, as well as Ivy, the Unseelie Overseer. Slowly, Firethorn introduces each Court’s Elite 5 to the crowd. He gives their names and Interviews them compassionately, looking to engage the crowd toward betting, toward choosing who they think will win what he only refers to as “the coming Game.”
Among these are Davey Ventura and Elise Savalia. Each of the 10 competitors are asked about their goals, their hopes, their dreams, their loves, their pasts. Each are shown off in their chosen attire, which must be both fashionable and functional. Each are applauded heavily over the course of the meal, shouts of admiration are given, hollers of appreciation, and some quickly hushed heckles. When all of the interviews are finished, Ivy and Forest step out from behind Firethorn and escort their Elite to the ballroom floor for the Demonstration.
As the de facto hosts of the evening, the Seelie allow the Unseelie to go first as courtesy. Ivy takes time with each of her 5, sparring with each one in turn, each getting five minutes to show off some of their prowess and to instill in each viewer the worth of the competitor. One favours the chakram, another is a wonder with a whip. After this, Ivy retires to the balconies herself and Forest repeats the experience with his 5. This will be the first time that the competitors meet, identify one another, and know each other as fatal enemies.
Then and only then does Firethorn proclaim that the Betting is formally open. Seelie and Unseelie alike are free to place formal bets with him as to who should win, as well as to make their own side-bets that they will govern among themselves. It is typical that, by the end of the evening, the King of the Seelie and the Queen of the Unseelie will announce their own Wager so that all members of each Court know what’s at stake in the coming game. The Wager is their own betting terms; what each will give up, should the other Court win.
As a refresher, the King and Queen’s wagers are a big deal. Because the Courts are in a “truce” and the war is a cold one, overt harm can’t be done to each other without breaking the accords and risking war—and so these wagers are the best ways the rulers can hurt the opposing Court. While common fey can make betting money on a specific Player, the rulers bet simply that their Court will be triumphant—that any of their Players will win the game and take the other ruler’s wager. So much rides on the outcome; not just which Player wins, but which Court loses.
After Firethorn has announced the betting, he relinquishes the microphone and the elevated stage is swarmed with the orchestra and the swells of their music echo all around the venue. Now, it is time for drinking and dancing—and to get to know the competitors personally. For some, it will be a time for those who didn’t make the Elite to say their good-byes to their compatriots as they head into their final days of training; a last night of true revelry. For others, this is just the fanciest night of good fun the whole year long.
Darkness and chaos and it’s funny, but Ceydran has never actually been in a bar fight before. Usually chooses to slip out, leave fists and broken glass behind, find solace in the shadows and alley dust. That is the safer choice here; whatever happened to protecting your own neck?
What happened was this: a knife flashing in a human man’s hand, a clear shot at an exposed spine, a quivering rabbit hunched in a hole, hunted, hunted. A knife flashing in a hand less than human, a mind shot through with the clear and simple thought: not him. Hasn’t the only rule ever been self defense?
Ceydran throws himself to his feet in a moment, letting the chair crash to the floor and feeling scales bloom in sympathetic protection across his back. Practiced hand blocks knife just before it touches Theo, just before it severs life from bone. Parries, cannot disarm, so thrusts and twists, blood down metal to flesh and a body slumped to the floor. It is not the first time. It is the first time it is not for him.
He hears feathers unfurl behind him, hears fearful heartbeats fly into the air. He whirls around and realizes that to kill one in the presence of this, is to kill another. “Shit.”
As she steps onto the bus, she drags a perfectly manicured finger over the terrible, once brightly colored but now distressingly dull, abandoned bowling alley carpet seat covers. A balanced sneer crawls across her face, pure disgust beautiful framed in lip gloss. She spots a tousled mess of black hair towards the middle of the bus and slinks over, flicks dust off her fingertips before gingerly sitting down.
“Absolutely horrendous fabric, isn’t it?” she asks, not bothering to indicate what she’s talking about. She sets her purse under her, fixes a misplaced hair in the mirror on her compact, and then turns to assess Li Hua, judgement already high on her lips.
But then she has seen the girl. Quivering, arms held tight around herself, Li Hua is nothing like the assured, familiarly confident person Laurel has gotten so used to, has chosen to, in her own small way, mentor. She frowns, some facade of concern bubbling up in the back of her mind. “Darling, what’s wrong?” she asks, putting the compact away again. “That posture does nothing for the lovely outfit you’ve put together.” She says nothing of the blood.
