vestigelogs | lake party invite + mingle (open)

Entry tags:

lake party invite + mingle (open)

Who: any and everyone!
Where: the lake and nearby!
When: right now! (july 7th, afternoon)
What: motha 👏 fuckin 👏 lake 👏 party
Warnings: Language (!!!) for now, will be added as needed!

[no, this is not a joke and yes, it's an actual invite to a party over the network from the username: cock.licking.idiot (and no, that's not a joke, either).

those who decide that they'd rather not be square will arrive at some unspecified patch of lake shore (thanks, klaus) at a similarly unspecified time (good work, asshat) to discover that something resembling a slapdash but heartfelt lake party along the northern waterfront. a couple of tables have been dragged out of nearby cabins and now hold a probably inadvisable quantity of foods, at least half of which don't belong at a party by any means. is this what rationing looks like? this is definitely what rationing looks like. there's also an alcohol table, filled pretty sparsely early on in the party but gathering bottles and cans throughout the day. (word of mod says feel free to wing it on what kind of alcohol we have!).

a number of chairs sit in a wobbly line in the stone-filled waterfront sand, most of them not meant for beachgoing but nearly all of them able to recline. about fifty feet down the beach seems to be the splash zone, where all water horseplay exists well out of range of splashing those sitting in beachside chairs. some people dive or cannonball off the mostly-sturdy pier, while others seem to be batting around a-... is that a beach ball they have? no, it seems to be a balloon that says "get well soon". how fitting. please, someone bring them a fucking beach ball.

(this is a mingle! go ahead and make top-levels or tag into other people's.)]

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( of course emil found him. he's arguably one of the two people here who might know where to look, and though he's been giving emil the space that the swede seemed to want at the moment, that doesn't mean he hasn't strategically placed himself at the one event he thought might (by way of alcohol) lure emil out of his solitude. he'd find lalli when he's ready to do so, and that time seems to have come.

he scoots to make room, but only barely - there's no real need to establish any sort of personal space, not with emil of all people. in fact, once emil settles, lalli's own crossed legs settle in such a way that rests a knee against emil's thigh, and he sets one of the snacks scavenged from above (some sort of cheese on a cracker) on his partner's knee.

the grumpy disbelief has the finn humming, lifting a shoulder a little. ) Not hurting anybody, ( he says, because it's true - aside from possibly burning through rations (which there's no indication of running short so far), the party only seems to be lifting spirits... or something. but of course, for solidarity's sake, ) Still stupid.

❰ his legs stretch out in front of him, back resting against a leg of the table. he accepts the offering of food; the casual touching is normal enough that it's barely noticed.

he's finished chewing his snack, and now emil moves onto trying to open this bottle he has. what is it; he didn't even look -- he certainly grabbed a good one. the stare he gives it is a long one, wondering exactly what that has to imply about how whatever this is tastes.

oh well. he's not going back out there now. ❱

Mm. ❰ no. yes. at least they're in agreement. however, emil supposes klaus has his own way of coping with things...if that's perhaps what this is. he also appreciates emotional distraction as much as the next person, but being so public about it isn't really emil's thing. thus, being under the table is actually suiting him just fine.

the top is finally unscrewed from the bottle and he gives it a sniff before taking a long drink. it's...definitely not as bad as he imagined it might be. the sex part of it...no comment, but it's certainly not as beachy as he thought it might be. salty, sandy flavors are instead very fruity, even if that sharp sting of alcohol is still very apparent.

it's offered to lalli, though emil's face remains somewhat blank, not offering any sort of indication that this was a good or bad exprience. ❱ Want some?

( 'mm'? it's unusual that emil isn't in the mood to complain, or at least to say more than one hummed syllable, and that speaks volumes for the mood that the swede is in right now regardless of his vague attempt to seem unbothered.

lalli isn't entirely sure what to do with that. isn't sure how to help. he's not good at it, at people. emil's an exception, but not as much of one as he'd have liked right now as lalli watches him drink in the side of his eye. the liquid's red, so that's a good thing. in his experience, the alcohol with color is usually not as strong. emil will have to drink more of it to put himself in any real danger.

it's offered out to lalli with no cue as to whether he's being blessed or poisoned, but he dutifully takes it regardless, tipping the unwieldy bottle with both hands to funnel a bit of it into his mouth.

it's not awful. he peers at the bottle now, reading the words. 'sex on the beach.' ) Didn't know that had a flavor.

It's oddly specific. ❰ he's certainly not had enough to make him drunk, it's one swallow. but suddenly there's something comical about it. is it the beach that makes it tastes like fruit? would the sex being anywhere else make it taste different? it's so stupid -- something klaus would find immaturely funny, maybe, which makes him laugh, lightly but with humor.

and in all honesty, there's probably nothing anyone could do to set emil's mind at total ease in this moment; it has nothing to do with any sort of deficit lalli has in how to handle a situation. he's doing great -- all emil needs is for him to be there.

a hand extends to grab it back. if there is one blessed thing about this party, it's that it's an excuse to have alcohol around. tonight, he'd like to consume a lot of it. ❱ I'm not complaining -- anything is better than that swill in Asgard. ❰ it was strong stuff, but took so much more getting used to. right now his mouth is already coated in some sweet taste, from some produce he probably can't even specifically name, and that's certainly an upgrade. ❱

( it truly is oddly specific, and he's not entirely positive what part of the flavor reminds anyone of any part of the title. maybe it's something you're supposed to drink while you're-... well, that.

(they're drinking it now regardless, here under this table. if all emil needs is for him to be here, then he will be.)

at the reaching hand, he dutifully passes it back. )

Didn't a demon make that? ( if he sounds dry and skeptical, it's because it's a sentence he never thought he'd have to say, but he distinctly recalls that being the case. a demon or a devil or some sort of angry spirit, he didn't pay all that much attention at the time. )

I think so...maybe we should have been more concerned, in hindsight.

❰ well, he should have been, since he instigated the whole thing. emil drinks easily; it's so much easier to down alcohol when it tastes like...something. something not akin to lighter fluid. it doesn't cross his mind that this is a more dangerous game to play.

the bottle is sat down between them -- if anyone wants more, they're free to have some. emil will want more, and probably be greedy about it.

as a matter of fact, he's not letting it sit still for very long. even if lalli makes a motion for it so the back and forth continues, emil takes another sip, contemplative, before returning it. it was awful, but he misses the asgard alcohol. he'd rather drink something basically poisonous and be back there than something good in...this hellhole. ❱

I never thought we would leave. ❰ the somber tone is hard to ignore in his voice. his whole life had already been upended, even if it turned out to feel like it was for the better. now it's happened again, and it only feels like it's for the worse. ❱

( every so often, lalli does indeed claim the bottle - maybe not as often as emil, but he can't let the swede empty the bottle by himself. that's how you kill a man, letting him drink a whole bottle of something by themselves. he's not seen it happen, but someone in the next village over died that way in his last few years in saimaa. he's not going to let emil do the same. even if that bottle was probably much stronger than this one.

even if those who die here supposedly come right back.

'i never thought we would leave.' only as he hears it does lalli realize he'd thought the same. they'd been there so long. long enough to lose each other and find each other and build a home and raise a cat who turned out pretty alright as far as cats go, even if she still lays on her prey once she kills it. sometimes even before she kills it. lalli's not sure where she got that. it's a very mikkel thing to do, to sit on something until it dies.

but while part of him (a strong part, but still only part) thought they'd never leave, the rest knew that one day they would. one day, they'd go back to a place in which they don't remember asgard. a place in which they can't speak to one another outside of their dreams, and they don't remember that they ever could. a place where they've never shared a home, only a tank and emil's subconscious, and they likely never will. they'll go their separate ways, stupid and ignorant, memories stolen away as if they never existed in the first place. )

Better here than where we came from. ( a statement he stands by, even knowing that this place was built to kill them all. )

❰ it's a very hard statement to stomach, but...it does ring true in some ways. if he had to choose between the three worlds, asgard would in hands down. but if that was taken off the table, and he had to choose. hmm.

the silent world is a devil he knows, but he remembers that there was a potential to forget everything upon going back to where you originally came from once taken out of it. a slate wiped so clean, and he's gained oh so much over the course of this time he's been away from his old home. so much that he admitted and stood by not seeing it as home anymore.

and the other choice, all of that kept...but potentially lost, over and over again. maybe it's sensible to grow numb and used to deaths and suffering that become cyclical, but he remembers dying once. to have to experience it numerous times, and to see others go through it...that might hurt so much more. what if it's a sick and twisted lie, part of the suffering to be created. you gear yourself up for someone to come back, and they don't. or some duplicate, a technicality they pass off as a promise.

but this is a lot to slosh around in his brain. many thoughts that swirl, and holding onto one concrete one at the moment is over-stimulating and makes his stomach preemptively churn. his phantom head wound also throbs slightly, but he doesn't dare go to touch it when lalli is around. ❱

At least there's alcohol. Flavored alcohol. And ice cream. And the cat. ❰ it's better to think positively, push it down and force something good up instead. emil leans precariously, finding a stopping point for his head against lalli's shoulder. ❱ I'm sure that shack is crawling with mice so Nukka will be thrilled. Not that I will be when there's a squished rat or two on the bed.

( those are all good-ish things, lalli can agree. the alcohol helps at times like these, and the ice cream is too cold but tastes good unless it's mustard.

and there's emil. an emil he remembers properly. an emil who now nearly unseats his balance to lean against lalli's shoulder, and the finn anchors his opposite hand on the grass to brace against the extra weight. without any real thought or hesitation, he presses the lower half of his face to the swede's hair in welcome, sighing into it as emil complains about squished rats in their bed. )

I'll get rid of them. ( perhaps it's the alcohol, but it's far too sound soft and fond right now, especially when the words are hummed against the other man's hair. )

❰ the promise of this chore being completed and the returned touch makes emil smile dumbly, leaning into it all the more with a tilt of his head. there's also something so comical about his ridiculous cat, lying somewhere on the bed with a 50/50 chance of a squished rodent underneath her once picked up. it's so gross, with no idea of why or how she picked up this behavior, but also...well, it's comical, and he sucks in a laugh. ❱

She reminds me of you. ❰ it's not the most flattering thing to say after talking about her compulsion for sitting on dead animals, but it's just so...very lalli-like. ❱ Stubborn...attached. Soft. ❰ because he is, so unexpectedly. ❱

( 'she reminds me of you.' above emil's tidy mop of hair, the finn's brow knits slightly. reminds him how? because she's a skilled hunter? 'stubborn,' emil supplies, and lalli decides he'll allow it. 'attached.' he also can't deny that one. but 'soft' has his nose wrinkling. )

'M not soft. ( spoken as if it's a particularly gross bug he's flicked off his sleeve. )

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lake party invite + mingle (open)

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