entrancelogs | IO, SATURNALIA!

Entry tags:

IO, SATURNALIA! | OPEN

Who: EVERYONE
Where: THE BALLROOM
When: THREE WHOLE DAYS - 12/17-12/19
Rating: PG-13 (or higher depending how rowdy you guys get)
Summary: IO, SATURNALIA! The party has arrived and it is here to stay for 72 hours straight of good food, gambling, dancing, drinking, singing, and so on and so forth!
The Story:

A few days into Ewaymas, on December 15th, everyone will wake up to a scroll outside their door. This scroll is an invitation to a Saturnalia celebration in two days, and everyone is welcome! If asked for clothing for the party, the closets will provide synthesis – brightly colored Roman robes – for the occasion, but the dress code is mostly just colorful and fun, if you choose to abide by it.

Starting on the 17th there will be a lavish feast in the ballroom, and food and drink are never in short supply. Drunkenness is encouraged, but there will be non-alcoholic beverages as well. There will be tables set up for gambling and dice games, music from a wide variety of worlds (specifically to encourage loud singing along and dancing all night - some are holiday remixes but others aren't), and areas for dancing and playing other games. The decorations are all in a rainbow of bright colors like the synthesis, with suns hanging up and candles floating in the air. Laurels and pileus will be available at the party for everyone to wear on their heads.

It's the kind of party that will get increasingly louder and rowdier...and it literally won't end for three whole days. Those prone to gluttony, greed, or even just escapism will find themselves not wanting to leave the party at all. There's always something to do and you can always just pass out of the floor when you're tired, right? Right! No one knows how to party like the Romans did. At the end of the day on the 19th though, all of the decorations and food will vanish and the party will abruptly come to an end.

Prose or [Action Brackets] are more than welcome, and if you have any questions please send them over to the FAQ thread for the event!

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[ If that bloody thing was corporeal he could wipe his hand on it now. It's not. Utterly useless like that, honestly. Philip sighs. Wraps the brimming cup in a napkin, and cautiously brings it to his lips. Empties it in one go, less cautiously. ]

Three days left to practice. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it soon enough.

[ Practice. Refill. He stops that time, heavy cup in his hand. It's like those little cards your dentist sends in the mail. 'Time for another check-up, call this number to get your appointment now!' Not that you didn't know it was coming, not that you wouldn't have called eventually, but did it have to be so soon? Did it have to come to you, before you could choose to go to it?

...Did he ever get a chance to mention the telepathy thing to Captain America?

Philip glances at his expression, waiting for it to- do something. The Reaper floats between them awkwardly, one round before it settles back down behind Philip, like an eccentric comic book villain's cloak. He fills another cup, and hands it over for Steve to take. ]

See? Barkeeping skills already catching up.

[ The words reverberate inside of his skull, and Steve's immediate response is to take a step back. It's not like when he gets a message through the comms. He doesn't have an earpiece in, and even then he would have felt the vibration. This is... different. It's like someone else is putting thoughts into his head, except the voice isn't his. It's Philip's. And it isn't the voice from the event.

Steve rubs at his temple, looking around them as if he might be able to pinpoint some sort of explanation for all of this. Maybe the grim reaper figure has something to do with it, or maybe this is an aspect of Philip he'd never heard about for some reason.

Philip does seem to keep to himself, most of the time.

With the cup being handed toward him, Steve hesitates for a few seconds before he reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing Philip's for only a brief moment. He takes a sip of the wine (is it wine? Whatever it is, it's strong, he can tell that much) and then decides to address the elephant in the room.

(Not the grim reaper. Not yet.) ]

Are you... [ He motions between his forehead and Philip's own with his free hand. ] Doing that on purpose?

[ The hesitation lasts all but long enough to make Philip withdraw the offer along with the cup, almost, but then there's that odd little moment, a twitch in his hand when the Captain reaches out the second he just starts pulling back. And then the cup is gone. All right then. ]

Am I--

[ --Ah. Guess he didn't get a chance to mention the telepathy thing to Captain America. ]

I am, yes. Guess that's never come up before, huh? I lost my voice. That's the replacement. [ A beat. ] Does it bother you? I--

[ He pats down the folds of his robes, until the comm device is between his fingers. ]

--guess I left my notebook in my other toga, but I can always text.

[ This is definitely the first that Steve's heard of all this, and he isn't sure if that's because he hasn't been paying close enough attention or if it's because Philip doesn't make a point of spreading the news. It must get frustrating to explain it time and time again.

When Philip makes some other suggestions for communication, Steve's quick to shake his head and wave him off with the hand that isn't gripping a cup of wine. ] No, it's fine. I mean, it'll take some getting used to, but you don't need to go to all that trouble. [ Typing takes a while, even for someone who's used to doing it all the time. ]

So, uhh... [ Steve's eyes flick to the reaper against his will. It's hard not to look at it. ]

Do you mind if I ask how you lost it? [ The whole point of Wonderland is that nothing ever lasts. As bad as an event might be, it's over in a few days. So the fact that there's something permanent that Philip has suffered here is curious.

Steve takes another sip as he awaits the mental response. ]

[ He nods, grateful and a little apologetic. The impression he ("he") left the last time is slowly crawling back into the front of his thoughts, and conjures up some quiet need to do better now. ]

In general, or just the voice?

[ ...even if the rest of him still seems reluctant to support that urge. Philip smirks to himself. Those two answers aren't entirely different, when you look at it from the right angle.

He glances at the reaper in return, briefly wondering if other people see the same thing he does. They see something, that much their looks can tell him, but so far it hasn't come up in conversation. So far Philip hasn't thought to ask, either.

--Right, the question. Part two. Philip shakes his head. ]

No, I don't mind. You might even remember, I gave my report to the resistance, back after I'd died the fifth time-- [ He stares wistfully at a distant nothing in particular. ] Can't believe it's been a while already...

[ A beat. He makes himself look at Steve again. ]

My report, I talked about being brought back for a price. My voice was that price.

[ Much as he didn't want to publish that connection directly at the time. ]

[ Steve may not know Philip particularly well, but this conversation (even if half of it is taking place in his own head) has already added a few details about the man to his mental list. Like the fact that he's got a dark, dry sense of humor, for example. We're all mad here, isn't that how the saying goes? Either way, the question inspires a small smirk.

The serious nature of this conversation (not to mention the specter hovering at Philip's shoulder) doesn't match the overall mood in the room, which is all energy and excitement and blaring music. Steve is pretty practiced in staying at the periphery of a party, though.

He remembers that report, though it had been a while back and before he'd had any clue about who Philip was, but now it all makes sense. This is what Wonderland had decided to take from Philip after his fifth death...

Once again, Steve's gaze flicks up to the reaper. He can't manage to ignore it any longer, and so he nods toward the deathly figure. ]

Is that what that's about?

[ Wonderland doesn't seem interested in allowing Philip any secrets, that's for sure. Steve has another sip as he thinks it over. It's strange that after making such a huge deal about their memories, Wonderland ended up taking Philip's voice instead. What did it get from that? And had the telepathy just been a bonus, some sort of consolation prize? ]

[ That one's got plenty of roundabout answers, and in the spirit of the celebration there's a real temptation to add an edge of mischief to them. In the end Philip decides that the wine fountain hasn't flown quite long enough to start introducing it as 'his half-sister Juliet, yes I know she looks under the weather, please don't mention it, she's very sensitive about it' just yet. Perhaps on day two. Good thing this party isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

And for now the plain and dull truth will do. ]

Not quite. I think that's supposed to be death zero, something to remember home by.

[ As far as the plain and dull truth is something he can tell, anyway. He deliberates if the full explanation is worth sharing, and with a shrug decides that he might as well. ]

...Got started two days ago, I've been seeing those little visions in my room, see-through memory scenes. Childhood Christmas, an old friend during winter the year I left behind in my world, so... I reckon if those were meant to be Christmas past and Christmas present, well, only leaves Christmas future, and I haven't got many scenes left to play on that front.

[ Death zero. The death from before Philip came here, in other words. Just how many people here in Wonderland died before they got pulled here? The number only seems to be growing, but it's not the sort of question that you ask someone during idle chit chat.

Unless they have a grim reaper ghosting them everywhere, anyway.

Steve's expression shifts as it sinks in, his face falling as he considers whether or not he should offer condolences. Philip has been here long enough to die five times. He must be at peace with his death as anyone could be at peace with something like that.

Not to mention he keeps mind-talking at him, the buzz in his head distracting enough that Steve keeps his mouth shut. He'd assume all of this mental conversing would leave him with a headache, but that isn't something his body does anymore. ]

A Christmas Carol, huh? [ He sighs and shakes his head to himself. ] This place could do with a little originality. Sorry, though -- it can't be fun having something like that advertised for everyone to see. [ Steve doubts that he's the only one who's asked questions. ]

[ It really shouldn't be, should it? He stares at the ominous floating cloak, his own personal omen of doom. As much as complete certainty still needs an omen, anyway. Philip shrugs. ]

I'm not entirely sure about that. Especially at a party like this it's bound to make an incredibly interesting conversation starter, much better than 'love what you've done with your laurels, I can never keep mine quite so green'.

[ Steve was the first to ask, but Philip is willing to bet that he won't be the last. He's mulled the thought over in his head before, and decided to follow the invitation anyway. Even time can't heal the sort of wounds that run you through and leave you for dead, but after a while you learn to move without evoking the pain fresh again.

That other thing on his mind though? He'll need a few more drinks for that. Philip refills at the fountain. Christ, but he'd love for that subject to feel less inevitable. ]

Besides, there are worse things for Wonderland to advertise than death.

[ An interesting conversation starter. Well, that much is true, but there's no denying that it's one hell of a downer. Steve doesn't think that condolences will have much of an effect at this point, not when it's apparently all old news for Philip. Besides, he had decided to come out to this party instead of holing up in his room, and he must have known the risk associated with that.

As Philip refills his drink, Steve has another sip from his, although for once he's thankful that the alcohol won't do anything for him. This is the kind of conversation he'd rather stay sober for, since it feels like he needs to pick his words carefully. Philip may be blasé about the whole thing, but that doesn't mean he's lacking old sore spots.

Philip's next comment strikes him as particularly ominous, and Steve frowns to himself as he mulls that over, gaze dipping down to his dress shoes.

If someone finds out that you've died, or that back home your death is more permanent, that's bound to inspire sympathy. Having dirty laundry or deep, dark secrets advertised, on the other hand... ]

Well, I'm glad that you're able to maintain a good attitude about the whole thing. [ Steve raises his glass to clink with Philip's, but there's one question he's still burning to ask. ] ... Do you think you could put up with one more prying question? [ Regarding their last interaction. ]

[ He smiles a bit unconvincingly. That's something he got to wondering every now and then, is it really a good attitude, or has the bad one just become so dull that it looks like he's dealing well? His own answer to that largely depends on the day you ask, these days. If it's one of the days when he's got an answer at all.

--But more questions first, right? The strong stuff. He could really use the strong stuff for this, because that -- he glances at the fountain, train of thought driving by -- is not the strong stuff. He drinks up another cup all the same, and when he's done he almost follows up with an answer, because he thinks he knows exactly where the question's headed.

Except if it's not, in which case that's an unpleasant story he'd rather leave unspilled. So he bites his tongue, and waits to be asked. ]

Sure, what's one more when I've got three days left to wash it down?

[ How did that come out? He can't quite tell. Just in case then: ]

...Sorry, go ahead.

[ With the way that Philip is knocking back those drinks, Steve can only assume that he's got too much experience with alcohol. The kind of behavior that screams unhealthy, and most people only drink to wash away the pain of some trauma.

Steve could put on his best disapproving face and try to discourage that behavior, but he doesn't think they know each other well enough for that to have much effect. Instead, he maintains a vaguely concerned expression. ]

Maybe try to make sure your reaper there doesn't get stuck hauling you back to bed. [ Okay. That's all he'll say on that subject. Moving on... ]

During that event, the last time we talked, well. You didn't have to talk into my head, and you sounded different, and... acted different. [ Pointing out the obvious, but he feels like he has to. ] What was that all about?

It'll take more than what they're pouring here for that, but I'll see if I can keep it below the legal limit.

[ Translation: He'll pretend to have a modicum of shame about this while they're still in conversation, afterwards he'll go back to chugging like it's 69 BC. Philip puts down his glass on the buffet table.

Just on time for the really sobering part. ]

That was--

[ --Clarence, he almost says, like introducing an old friend. But that old friend is dead, and every word said about him now rings hollow in Philip's mind, doesn't quite, doesn't ever quite measure up to the things Clarence did when he was still around. ]

Well. What I'm doing now, the talking into your head, that's just a side effect. What you ran into during the event, that... was the actual disease. I'm guessing the theme there was 'what if I hadn't gotten my hands on a cure when I did'.

[ Philip wonders how it all sounds, out of context as it is. He wonders how much of the story he can omit, while still making some semblance of sense. He wonders-- ]

--Long story short, I ran into some trouble, my DNA got a bit muddled up. I'm all right now, but it could've gone quite a bit worse.

[ For... other people. For other people most of all, far more than the silent scraps that would've remained of himself. Those probably wouldn't have cared, anymore. ]

[ Casual alcoholism confirmed, then. Steve doubts there's anything he could say to persuade Philip to cut back on that unhealthy behavior, not when he's already a dead man five (six?) times over. Steve decides to keep an eye on him all the same.

As it turns out, the story doesn't make all that much sense when so much of it is omitted. A side effect of what disease? What kind of illness changed your voice and turned you into a complete jerk?

Anything that involves changing around someone's DNA has the possibility of ending in disaster, though -- Bruce Banner is walking proof of that. He's learned to live with his condition, but there are other examples, like the Red Skull.

Steve's quiet for a while, his drink forgotten as he tries to fill in the blanks of Philip's explanation. ] Sounds like one hell of a disease. In that case, I'm glad it was just a hypothetical. [ He's assuming that there's no chance of that disease spreading now, or Philip probably would have warned the mansion at large. Just Wonderland being Wonderland, then. ]

Well... thanks for being so cooperative. [ Steve did throw a lot of uncomfortable questions at Philip, but it's nice to know that they're on the same page now. ]

Right.

[ Just hypothetical. The reaper floats around him silently, one eerie round in mid-air, before it settles at his back again. If Philip didn't know better he'd think-- Bloody smart arse death omen, as if he'd ever have trouble recalling those memories on his own.

But he wonders-- Cooperative, somehow that word makes him shudder. Because he pictures the opposite, and suddenly it's an interrogation. Suddenly he doesn't feel like elaborating after all, not when the bare bones can obviously do. And they can, just--

He makes to speak, once or twice. Actually makes to speak, because that habit isn't dead yet, finding the words, as if he was gonna say them out loud. That he never does anymore, obviously. ]

Listen, if it ever happens again-- [ Wait. Clarification. ] If an event ever makes it happen again, and you run into... me outside the network. [ Erm. ] No hard feelings if my neck needs snapping, or anything like that.

[ Steve watches as Philip's mouth works to make noise, as his tongue shifts to produce sounds that simply won't come out. It's a strange sight, something that makes Steve's skin crawl. Not because he's repulsed by Philip, but because it bothers him to know that the mansion can so easily strip them of something as basic as their ability to talk.

If he died five times, what would it take from him? Good thing that he hasn't pushed his luck too much in this place.

When Philip gets the words out telepathically, Steve stares him down for a few seconds, uncomfortable with the suggestion. ]

I'm hoping it wouldn't come to that. [ If anything, Steve would prefer to restrain Philip until the event ended. ] But I'll keep it in mind. [ Steve knows that sometimes there isn't an easy way out, and letting Philip harm other people because he isn't in his right mind isn't the right thing either. ]

Can't say I'm not hoping the same, but with him-- [ No. Wait. Him is a story. And Philip doesn't feel that cooperative right now. ] with that kinda thing it doesn't hurt to be clear about everything that might be necessary.

[ Well. Strictly speaking it probably will hurt, him, quite a bit; at least it did the last two times something like that "became necessary", but... he's got his devil in Clarence. He doesn't need another in the details.

Philip picks up his drink again, though he holds off on the toast. ]

So. Anything more cheerful left to talk about, or should we call it a day?

[ Because he wasn't thinking about small talk when Steve caught his eye, and Philip doubts that the Captain came over for something friendly and casual either. ]

[ Him? Who would "him" be? As much as Steve would like to ask, he's already pushed the envelope with this conversation and Philip has been open and patient with him. It doesn't seem fair to keep on it now that he's reached a place where he wants to be evasive.

The message itself is clear: Wonderland has the ability to make Philip dangerous, and if that happens, Steve has his express permission to do something about it. How he ultimately handles that will be left in his hands, if that moment ever comes.

It wouldn't feel right to shift to lighthearted small talk after all this, and so Steve smiles tightly and draws back a step. ] I promise we'll have a more cheerful talk next time, how about that?

[ And hopefully by then Philip's grim friend will have left him too. ]

[ What, don't they teach heroes about not making promises you can't keep? Or is that part of the motivational gig? Guess it'd have to be, with Captain A Whole Nation Stapled To The Name. Philip for one's got all the liquid cheer he needs coming out of a fountain, but- all right, let's not say that.

Positive, positive, he can do positive. One second. Smile. Weakly, maybe, but it's the principle of things. And: ]

All right, I'll hold you to that. Enjoy the rest of the party, anyway.

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IO, SATURNALIA! | OPEN

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