[008]

[bloodsugar]

A): phone - mid-morning.

[OPEN;]

[one hazard of spending a good deal of your time lurking on the phone lines is that one might become prone to forgetting that people can HEAR you while you listen. so, it's entirely innocent, of course, when the half-absent and somewhat petulant mumble comes across the phone lines sometime this morning.]

...all this talk of Valentines Day... honestly! As if they're rubbing it in some of us are destined to be forever alone. 'Vow of celibacy'? More like vow of perpetual and ongoing boredom.

[...a pause.]

It's not like I wanted to find out what a romantic holiday with another human being is like, regardless... eh? I'm sure edible underwear isn't all it's cracked up to be, anywa--

[...]

Eh? [wait for it.]

AH--

[...there's a rather flustered squawk, and a hasty CLICK of the phone into the cradle.]

[filter to Charles Fei-Ong]

Alright, so maybe I'm a little late in checking in. You'll forgive me, right? After all, I'm sure you've been busy collecting recipes and taste testing! [no really are you okay... :| last time he saw you, after all, was... uh, colorful, to say the least.]

...I don't suppose you'd be up for a cup of tea, Charles? [he has a feeling you'll just bs him even if you weren't alright over the phone, anyway. CLEARLY HE MUST BE NOSY IN PERSON.]

[filter to Esther Blanchett]

Esther-- do you have a minute? There's... ah, something I wanted to ask you. [AND IT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH EDIBLE UNDERWEAR HE SWEARS DEAR GOD.]

[filter to Django]

How are you holding up, partner? I hope the radio silence is because you've been gloriously enjoying the sunshine, hm? Making up for lost time and all that...! [are you okay partner? :(]

B): action; 1648 Albright Lane - lunchtime.

[there's the smell of something burning, late in the morning approaching lunchtime -- and if Rachel or Cain follows their nose, they might find the source in the form of one (1) Abel Nightroad with his drone wife's FRILLY PINK APRON several sizes too small draped around his neck and haphazardly tied back in the process of butchering... grilled cheese. yes, he is a total failure.

...somehow, he's gotten butter all over the counter and is trying to catch an overturned bottle of orange juice that is apparently spilling its contents over and onto the floor. the pan is burning and he's jostling cups and plates, trying not to drop EVERYTHING EVER as he fumbles to cease the spill of juice fruitlessly.

NO ONE SAID YOUR DAD WAS GOOD AT BEING DOMESTIC. this is why.]

C): action; around town - afternoon.

[the tall, lanky, and often times clumsy priest is among your streets today, Mayfield! anyone similarly prone to hitting up the bakery quite often might recognize his face, or simply wish to gape at the way he's leaving cheerily with a bag under his arm and so engrossed in the effort of inhaling the vanilla frosted doughnut in his hand he is clearly not paying attention to anything else. ...like the sidewalk. which, he may or may not inevitably trip over at an uneven crack and WOEFULLY lose his doubtlessly precious bounty as the bag tumbles to spill the fruits of his labor everywhere...

...and maybe his doughnut might happen to ah. misplace... itself from his hand and end up on your face. WHAT DO?]

D): action; church - evening.

[Abel's day eventually brings him to someplace to seek solace, to rest a weary soul... or something of that effect. one who enters might be hard pressed to FIND said priest who should be more or less easy to spot on the regular, right? how many 6'4 lanky bastards in cassock ARE there in here?

...but if one is apt enough, they might notice that the Father's side of the confessional is occupied. do you care to confess? ...or notice that said Father might just be lightly snoring if you listen hard enough...]

Comments

[sunnydwithagun]

(Agreed.)

Very much harmless. It could only get as dangerous as love regularly would, but otherwise this event wasn't too bad.

[bloodsugar]

We could only hope it'd be a trend from now on, huh. Embarrassing, maybe, but...

[sunnydwithagun]

I sure hope so. Embarrassment is a much more tolerable torture than anything else I've seen from this town. Especially when that woman's experiments began...

(So many dying and suffering people...it was truly a dark week, even for Mayfield.)

[bloodsugar]

...mm. I would be happy if we never saw anything like that again, long as we lived.

[sunnydwithagun]

I couldn't agree more, my friend. Perhaps we can try preparing for the next event, just in case?

[bloodsugar]

That seems like a good idea. I've been mulling over possibilities of doing that myself, though I'm not quite sure where to start considering the variety of things that could happen around here... it's all very unpredictable, isn't it?

[sunnydwithagun]

It is. While some of the events are practically random, there are those that seem to follow a theme based on the nearest holiday, like the flowers and Valentines day. Perhaps we can try figuring out what to do in accordance to the next holiday?

[bloodsugar]

Mm, that's a good idea... We can narrow it down to holidays celebrated in '50's America, as those are the ones that are the focus, too.

[sunnydwithagun]

That's exactly what I'm thinking. However, there's a bit of a problem with that: I'm not familiar with the holidays here.

(Separate world, so just gonna headcanon the lack of typical holidays.)

[bloodsugar]

Mm, it's been a rather long time since the Americas were habitable for me, too... I'm not familiar with their calender of holidays. Maybe we could look around in the library?

[sunnydwithagun]

That might be best. Hopefully, they would at least have a book on holidays; the library isn't as useful as it should be.

[bloodsugar]

That's true. Do you think there's someone here who might know more about it? Or maybe one of the older residents who've been here for previous years and knows which they tend to pick?

[sunnydwithagun]

Most likely. There are people who've been stuck here for years who might be familiar with how things work. Them or perhaps the various groups I've heard about.

[bloodsugar]

The Defense Association?

[sunnydwithagun]

Yes, or perhaps even the survival groups; I can't remember any names, but one can assume they would know how to weather through some of the things Mayfield can throw at us, right?

[bloodsugar]

Definitely! I only know of the DA off the top of my head, but I bet there are a few organizations with Mayfield's best interest at heart floating around here we could find...

[sunnydwithagun]

Then it sounds like we have another mission before us, partner.

[bloodsugar]

Who are we to decline in the face of duty, eh, partner?

[sunnydwithagun]

Precisely. I believe our first priority is to determine which holiday is coming up next and and it will occur. Then after learning all we can about it, we should question those who've survived those holidays and are willing to tell us about them. We may be able to find a pattern to this.

[bloodsugar]

You've got a good head on your shoulders, Django! I couldn't think of a better plan myself.

[sunnydwithagun]

I've also a good partner by my side. Such a plan would greatly benefit from such allies.

[bloodsugar]

[sldkjgsldkjg

sldkjf]

A-ahh, I wish my boss could hear you talk like that...

--Mm! But, I won't let you down! We'll get this figured out in no time.

[sunnydwithagun]

(Poor Abel's heart must've gone through so much since he met Django.)

Indeed we will. I shall gather my things and make for the library. I'll see you there, Abel.

[bloodsugar]

[it's melting bit by bit like chocolate in the sun, Django. he's helpless...!!]

Perfect! I'll meet you there. Heading right over now--!

[sunnydwithagun]

(At least melted chocolate is still delicious!)

See you there!

(He hangs up the phone, grabs his solar gun and makes way for the library. A new quest is beginning and the sun is still shining!)