#portvalelantern

[isidoredelgado]

status: open to all location: the harbor, mid-day 

    It was Sunday - the tattoo parlor was closed on Sundays, anyway, but even if it weren’t a Sunday, Isidore would be out and about. The annual lantern festival was one of the rare occasions that Isi would spend hours among the locals, out in the sun, breathing in the fresh air; he was a lone fellow, on most days, and tended to sleep in and stay up late. But today, he had been up since 10am (a miracle for the hippocampi, truly) and now was enjoying a cold beer on the busy harbor, watching the festivities with an amused half-smile painted across his lips in the afternoon sun. Port Vale was quaint, especially when you weren’t tripping over the tourists at every turn, or hearing the shouts of over-excited visitors insisting they saw one - a mermaid - every time the water rippled near the shore. 

   As if the merfolk would be that foolish, Isi had once believed, but now with so many of his own kind in town, he wasn’t so sure. No matter what was happening in Assyria, Isidore was keeping his mind as far from that topic as possible, trying to feel “normal”, as he’d been trying to do for the better part of two decades. So he sat on his end of a bench, and drank, and waved to the familiar faces, and chattered with the residents who should feel like family after 15 years of residency in Port Vale. Side-stepping the merfolk, when he could, barring the two of his kind that were settled in town just as he was. He’d found himself in a moment of peace, eyes cast out to the sea as they so often did - not quite lost in thought, but not quite present, either, until the voice of an approaching figure caught his attention. “You want a beer?” Isi offered, reaching to his small stockpile of a few old ones left by his ankle where he sat on the bench to offer one to the person, his form of a greeting. 

[artsyacosta]

Status: Open To All

Not all the tourists seemed to have dispersed from the town but it wasn’t hard to notice that many people had picked up and left, no longer wanting to be surrounded by the mysticism of Port Vale and its nautical charm. Emilia liked it when the streets were flooded with people, even if they were all here simply for the mermaid aesthetic. It was still early enough in the day before the lantern festival so she used her time to stroll through the town, seeing their visitors off.

As she wandered the town, Emilia noticed someone familiar nearby, a local rather than a tourist. She had her camera around her neck and she couldn't help but lift it up and snap a quick photo of them even though they weren't paying much attention. In their own little world focusing on their own things, it was that blissful ignorance that Emilia wanted to capture. It didn't take long before the person took notice of her though and she smiled sheepishly at them. "Sorry, I can delete it if you want. The way the sun was hitting you was perfect I couldn't resist."

[valentinaromanova]

[ @isidoredelgado​ ]

The hustle and bustle of Port Vale's lantern festival was so strange to Val as to feel overwhelming. It wasn't that they didn't have parties back in her home sea, but when they did, Val rarely attended. Besides, large crowds on land just felt so much more suffocating than crowds in the sea. There had been many people in Port Vale the whole time that she'd been there (tourists, they called them), but never all so concentrated in one place. When she'd inquired to Moray about the occasion, the explanation had her laughing in his face.

Mermaids granting wishes. These poor humans. There was nothing in the sea that would grant wishes — Val would know, she'd looked — and certainly not those flimsy, artificial bitches that called themselves mermaids. She would never understand the humans' obsession with them. Everything here was built as some sort of twisted dedication to their mermaid fantasy, and it had Val wishing she could show them where the real power lay. Suffice to say, she did not have her own lantern to release. Instead, she hung back, hoping that her crossed arms and the scowl on her lips were enough to deter anyone from getting too close.

It was a good thing she did, too. If she had been smothered in that crowd, she might have never caught sight of a familiar face. A childhood friend. A ghost. At the back of the crowd, the two of them made eye contact, and Val's face went white as a sheet. Voice strangled, she mouthed, 'Isidore?'

[lazarusthelost]

afternoon / latern festival / @valentinaromanova

heads and faces and activities and stalls and places, and is this how the younglings live all the time? pressed for it, ever conscious of the setting sun that will bring an end to the number of things to be explored, the number of people to talk to, the number of things to try? a greeting to near every person in the town, like saying good morning to every fish in a shoal, but each one new and different and containing something fascinating.

he’s still weak, despite months recuperating, but there’s another familiar face, and despite lazarus’ entire knowledge of valentina resting on a single conversation where he only caught her name at the end, he stepped forwards with a smile of familiarity, calling out her name.

‘ val! i got that right, didn’t i? i mean, it was only - ‘ he breaks off, eyes rising for a moment. ‘ a week? right? anyway, ‘ his eyes settle back as his hand brushes through the air as though physically pushing away the thoughts, ‘ how are you? still settling in okay? ‘

[portvalehq]

TASK 001 - starry seas lanterns

as the town comes together to bid farewell to summer, everyone is hard at work to perfect their paper lanterns. the tradition of port vale’s starry sea festival encourages those who attend to write their deepest wishes on the lantern in the hope of them coming true if found by the mermaids of the sea - but over the years, it has evolved to become much more than a wishing game. some port vale locals will write regrets they wish to release from the year, or memorials of those who they have lost. others see the tradition as a form of self-expression, and create a lantern of their heart’s desires, with quotes or lyrics scrawling across the sides.

whatever your muse chooses to do with their lantern, share with port vale the thought that went into the creation of it! many will spend the whole day of the festival adding the finishing touches to their lanterns as they drink and socialize, while others have theirs prepared ahead of time, eager to give it a send-off to the sea at sunset.

feel free to create drabbles, graphics, playlists, or anything else that will show the group your character’s lantern & what it means to them! take whatever route feels best-fitted for your character as they take to the shore to add their lantern to the collection of “stars” that float over the subtle, rocking waves. please tag your tasks with #portvalelantern! this task is not mandatory, but highly encouraged to show a more personal, intimate side of your characters feelings and inner thoughts.

[isidoredelgado]

closed: @mellora-atoll

   It hadn’t been hard to figure out that Assyria was dealing with a fair amount of unrest even before he’d first spotted Mellora about town in Port Vale. Isidore had avoided asking questions, but he was in close with the two other hippocampi who had chosen to call Port Vale their home for a spell, so he’d heard the bits and pieces of the troubles of the kingdoms; but none had been as intriguing as that of Atla’s death, and how Mel had risen to her place. Assyria was a place rooted in tradition, in rules, in order - and mermaid princesses were born from gemstones, always. It had been that way before Atla, and had never been different, so Isidore had at first regarded Mellora with a curious gaze when he’d first caught wind of the changing tides in her ocean. 

   The intrigue was short-lived, and Isidore had been dodging her for weeks. It wasn’t a hard task for the self-proclaimed loner, who was awake mostly in the late hours, and slept past morning on the daily. He was good at hiding in the dark, existing as a shadow, a ghost of a several-hundred-year past, a shell of a former being. A being that Mellora had known, had occupied one of the courts he visited; a being that had tried to warn her. To warn them all. 

  With the Starry Seas Lantern Festival in full swing, Isidore was out and about in town, a pretty rare sight to see, and the crowds of locals made it harder to side-step the merfolk that would cross his path. He’d only just noticed Mel, just a few feet away from him in a line for a vendor on the harbor, when their eyes met. Isidore debated bailing, turning on his heel and stalking off away from the ocean, retreat back to bed where there were no memories, no thoughts, no feeling- 

   But he couldn’t. She’d seen him already, their eyes locked on, and Isi knew he couldn’t bring himself to just so obviously skirt around one of the Assyrian princesses (if she could be considered that?). He was outside of the water world, but had been woven into it since the creation of Assyria itself, so old habits die hard. “Mellora.” He greeted, hardly one for more words than necessary. 

[isidoredelgado]

closed: @elcctrcms​ location: the beach

   A decade and a half had passed since Isidore had delved too far into the Bering Sea, had explored too deep in the dark, and he had the scars still to prove it. Though he didn’t know what had attacked him and his brother, claiming his friend’s life in the process, it had been terrifying enough for him to denounce Assyria and choose Port Vale. Isi expected that it had something to do with the strife that was now plaguing the realms, and though he didn’t want anything to do with the Assyrian troubles... he caught sight of the Bering Sea siren, on her own, standing off and away from the festivities down along the beach. 

   Was she missing home? How many times when Isidore first arrived to Port Vale did he, too, stand in the sand and stare off to the horizon, thoughts under the waves though his body was planted on land? He approached slowly, on the verge of talking himself out of the confrontation the whole way down the beach until he’d gotten too close, until it was too late, and he’d been noticed. 

    Now that he had her attention, Isidore realized he had no idea what to say, his throat tight and his heart racing. Had she known? “My brother died in the Bering Sea. Did you know that?”

[isidoredelgado]

closed: @kaiawaverly​ location: just outside of barnacles & baubles

   There was a cute little stand set up in front of the beauty salon, though it was closed for the day of the festival. A tip jar sat beside a small assortment of left-over beauty supplies and mix-matched accessories, with a helpful little note requesting to tip was you considered fair and take a “treasure”. Port Vale was full of little quaint ways the town showed it’s trust & companionship in one another, rightfully boasting of a community tight as family. Isi had tried his hardest for the better part of two decades to dissolve into one of them, a Portie, and had finally just started to feel like he had succeeded.

   Then, practically half of Assyria popped out of the water and moved into apartments and rooms at the inn in Port Vale, and now Isi was trying to pretend everything was so totally fine. He had chosen to be human now, and human he would remain, no matter how much his past begged him to pay it mind. 

   Birthdays were a thing that humans apparently took great excitement in celebrating, and though Isi had never understood the point of it all (why find so much joy in a year closer to death? ridiculous!), he’d learned to find trinkets to stash away, in case he forgot the date of someone’s birthday he should have remembered. This was learnt by plenty of mistakes, and so he was fishing through the little treasures, glancing to the blonde when she came up to browse, too. “Alright, what do you think-” Isidore held up a necklace in one hand, and a set of hair barrettes in the other, decorated with shells and glitter. “Which is the prettier one, because I’ve been told I am a terrible judge of these things.”