Say When (A New Year's Brunch)

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot had been warned by various people that New Year's often brings some kind of supernatural mischief to Darrow, and this news had only made him more determined to stick to his plan. No power of god or man or eldritch entity place-spirit or army of fish people will prevent him from throwing a damn party. 

It made sense, really, and part of him wishes he'd done something like this before now. He needn't frame it as a sort of surrender to this imprisonment, but rather just indulging in something frivolous because, as far as his understanding of the metaphysics goes, none of this really counts. So why shouldn't he enjoy it? He's been here long enough to decorate the apartment some, and it really is a marvel the amount of things available through Nile. There's more comfortable furniture, potted plants, and a series of apothecary cabinets and display cases for magical components that give the whole place the air of some eccentric explorer's gallery of curiosities. 

He's even managed to get enough appliances that the little kitchen is decently functional, and has spent a few days stocking up and preparing for what he hopes will a successful brunch. He has enough eggs to feed an army. There will be copious crepes. There will be mimosas for days. 

Eliot's used to working through a wicked hangover this time of year, so he built that into consideration in his prep time. Thanks to the night's adventure, though, he spends his downtime sober and scrubbing mer-blood off of himself, and still feels a bit frazzled by the time the first guests arrive.

[It's time for brunch! Brunch is a state of mind, not an actual timeframe, so please feel free to have your pups show up whenever in the day, honestly. Tag in, tag around, chase the memory of merman horror away with a mimosa, air your grievances and dirty laundry in the neutral ground of Eliot's apartment. This is a safe space. For Drama.]

Comments

[wildmage_daine]

Daine snorts softly. It's a preference she well understands, and not just because she shares it. The crowd was one of the main reasons last night was such a gods-curst mess. Folk tend to act more sensibly in smaller numbers, but when you put loads of them together, you're more liable to end up with a panic.

"Were you in any of the crowds last night?" she asks, her smile turning wry. "It was fair ridiculous, really. Could've been less harm done all around if folk had stayed calm."

There's definitely some judgment in her tone, but not as much as there could be. There's often a bit of ridiculousness to the threats Darrow cooks up, but it being silly doesn't make it safe. She can't blame folk for wanting to get away from the beach and the creatures in a hurry; she just wishes they'd at least used their eyes and their good sense a bit more.

[hear_the_blood]

"People don't stay calm," Daisy says with a shrug. It'd been a pity the creatures were so damned slow, actually. She would've liked to have seen—

No, she wouldn't.

"Especially in numbers," she continues. "A sort of herd mentality sets in, doesn't it? The more panic people sense, the more they panic, and it feeds the rest."

[wildmage_daine]

Daisy's not wrong, but Daine still wrinkles her nose at the assessment. "Except I can reason with a herd," she grumbles. Or, if nothing else, stop a stampede in its tracks. Two-leggers aren't half so biddable.

Belatedly realizing that what she just said won't make a bit of sense to someone who's only just met her, she adds, "I can talk to animals. It's magic." She can give a more in-depth explanation if Daisy wants one, but for now, she just raises her glass in a tired little toast and takes a gulp.

[hear_the_blood]

Daisy should probably be surprised, but she's not. She offers a little chin-raise, sort of a nod. With everything she's seen and experienced since meeting Jonathan Sims, finding out that someone can talk to animals feels rather... par for the course. But then a thought occurs to her, and she realizes she can actually ask, instead of just stewing on it.

"I wonder if a herd of panicked cows is more sensible than a herd of panicked humans," she says.

[wildmage_daine]

The nod is a little surprising, but not unpleasantly so. Daine's used to having to say more, to explain herself properly, or at least deal with more outright shock or wonder. A nod of acknowledgement — fellowship, even, though when she peers at Daisy with her magic, she doesn't see anything to suggest she's a fellow mage — is sort of nice, by comparison. Makes things feel simpler.

The question Daisy does level at her ends up being a tricky one, though, and Daine cants her head in consideration. "I don't know if sensible is the right word," she allows. "But I could at least stop a herd of panicked cows, so long as it wasn't too large. Getting two-leggers to mind me is a lot harder."

[hear_the_blood]

That changes her understanding of what Daine's said so far. Daisy looks at her, a bit appraisingly, then says, "Ah."

And promptly winces, because Christ, she sounds like John.

"I didn't realize it was that sort of magic," she explains. "Suppose I should've asked that, first."