[Day 5 - LE] Honor your King (Social Thread)

[Dapper Dog]

Jason was dressed up as a Zombie Jesus, with a crown of thorns and half a face. He wore a sign that said ‘Eat of my flesh before I eat yours.’ He was posted up in Frankie’s Mexican Pub a local gentrified place that mixed the best and worst of an Irish pub aesthetic with a Mexican cantina.

Everything on the menu is locally sourced, cruelty free, and vegan options.

OOC: This is where the event ends, when you give your tale to the king you can join here for further socializing.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Mexican was like a long-lost cousin to Cajun cuisine, and Chantelle loved it. She remembered that, before her durance, she had been such a baby when it came to spicy foods, enjoying the flavours, but unable to take the heat. It caused her endless despair, wanting to fully appreciate the range of ingredients and spices available, but often finding herself defeated by streaming eyes and a burning mouth. Now, she didn't even notice. In fact, more than once, she asked if there was a spicier version of the dish she was sampling, only to find that she couldn't detect the heat at all. It was delightful, all the flavour and none of the pain, and she gleefully tried a little of everything.


(( Come and chat! PM me ))

[Marcus Kendall]

The beast most fowl reviled among the changelings, still wearing his cheap plastic wolf mask on his snout. He walked around with a cup of cider in both of his claws, sipping from both of them. The sticky drink frothed on the fur around his mouth. He took great care to sample everything he found, no matter how spicy it seemed. The beast could eat anything and everyone.


OOC: Come and meet he beast... and PM me if you do so.

[Jason Whitt]

Jason had a frozen margarita he was slowly drinking as he listened to the stories, those that were less impressive usually were followed with a large drink while the more impressive were honored with a light sip.

He was going to be quite tipsy before long.

[Redmane]

Redmane didn’t look like he was having fun but it may have just been the amount of drunk people around and the fact that TB was doing karaoke and was butchering whatever song she was trying to sing.

[Triss Bakowski]

“You can dance… you can cry!” TB sang, well in a facsimile of song, with the beat as she swayed back and forth already three margaritas deep!

She was dressed a Sailor Moon, and was serious about it, everything was as close to authentic as she could get and the blonde wig was high quality.

“Having the time of your liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife!” she continued.

[Alsuf]

Out front Alsuf is having an intimate conversation with an older woman.

[Tiffani]

Tiffani wanders aimlessly around the place, tasting a little of this, a little of that, finally settling on a steak burrito and a strawberry daiquiri. Given the crowd, she squints her stormy eyes and leans against the wall, the emotions of so many drunks and party-goers slamming into her head like a thousand little jackhammers. It took time to tune them all out, but while she did, her head pounded.

Of course, she didn't recognize anyone nor did she know anyone. Well, except the king in his zombie costume - but to say she knew him was just a bit of an overstatement. It was a bad habit of hers, assuming everyone who was nice to her was now her bestest friend. Oh, and there was Marcus hiding behind a little wolf mask. She couldn't help but smile seeing the thing stuck on the end of his snout - a wolf disguised as a wolf. That just made her smile even more.

She downed a good portion of the daiquiri she held - no one had even carded her even though her Mask was in place. Perhaps the place was just too busy for that, but she wasn't about to complain. Rarely did she get the chance to drink in public - especially during her before life when many of her friends were older. She rarely could accompany them on their weekend forays to Bedford's pubs ...and was that Chantelle? It had to be. After all, just how many human-shaped egrets were walking around Minuit?

Chantelle seemed to be dressed as some kind of ... hmm ... witch doctor or something. She suddenly regretted not having a real costume, one that she could have worn in here. But if she walked in here with her Mask down, well ... she was genuinely worried she'd inadvertantly start some kind of a riot.

So, there Tiffani stood, gnawing on her burrito like a (no offense, Chantelle) bird, sipping at her daiquiri, trying to summon the courage to actually talk to someone, but it wasn't happening. Maybe it was because so many things were happening so fast - the job as a barista, enrolling in college in January, finding a place to stay, even being included in a Motley, not to mention seeing all the things that have happened in the last 34 years - she felt like her head would explode. And not due to the emotions of rowdy drunk people, either.

She simply watched the crowd, a faint smile on her face - a dreamy sort of expression on her face as if her thoughts were light years away.

[Bowie]

She simply watched the crowd, a faint smile on her face - a dreamy sort of expression on her face as if her thoughts were light years away.

A stranger glances at tiffani and smirked, he wore a masquerade mask which he removed as he took the stage. He was shirtless with dark leather tight pants and stilleto heels. He smiled at TB as he took the mic. He smiled and said with a slick British accent, “I am a bit nervous, bloody nervous even. But here goes, I always idolized David and since my name is Bowie… well I hope I do him justice.”

The lost then began to sing a rendition of the Man who Sold the World.

OOC: Can Bowie Sing?: 9d10o10h8 3, apparently he can.

[Tiffani]

While conducting her habit of crowd-watching and feeling rather uncomfortable - like being an outsider at a party where everyone knows everyone else, she catches sight of Bowie ...

Did he just glance at her? Tiffani found herself standing a little straighter instead of slouching against the wall, quickly putting the half-eaten burrito down on a nearby table.

Nah ... she doubted it. He could have been glancing at anyone near to where she was standing. Her eyes slid over the man's shirtless form as he took the stage, her eyes widening slightly as he heard his British accent. A fellow Brit! In Minuit of all places! She figured she was the only person here from across the pond ... the bloody pond, even.

Tiffani watched him smile at ... someone in the crowd. She looked in the same direction toward where that smile was sent but there was no way she could tell who it had been meant for. Anyway, she got a smirk. That other person got a genuine smile - heh - she probably had a stain on her shirt or something and that's what he was smirking about. If he was even smirking at her to begin with.

Forget about it, she told herself, again slouching against the wall. She coaxed a few spiral strands of red-gold hair out of her eyes with a little jerk of her head and watched this guy perform his song. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all ... and he was even singing David Bowie, though it was one of his older songs that was released when she was, what, two years old? Before her time. In any event, this guy did a pretty good cover of him.