Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_extremis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2021-12-23 07:05 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2021-12-23 07:05 pm
Trimming
WHO: Everyone! It's a mingle, get into it, bring your own winter traditions
WHERE: The diner
WHAT: A little winter celebration
WHEN: The solstice/end of the year
WARNINGS: Mark it if you get weird. I assume we're all a little busy, so if you want to use this to handwave some cordial introductions or a quick lore dump from Tony, just let me know.
There wasn't any official invitation or forewarning. In fact, Tony hadn't exactly planned to spend his day like this. Arriving at the diner, though, it would be difficult to ignore the acrid smell of burning, or the waft of coffee trying vainly to cover it. The scorched scent could have come from the brazier crackling outside of the diner door, spreading a ring of warmth that left a patch of the walkway cleared of snow, though the effect of that fire was more cozy, inviting anyone in the square near the fountain closer, with a sweet, woody smoke and an extra sharp, green scent from the lurid red and weirdly purple, piney boughs hung around the doorway. The burnt smell was stronger inside, anyway, clearly from a mishap in the kitchen, with another stack of those prickly branches on the diner counter not doing a convincing job of covering a black mark scorched into the surface. The rest of the room might have been distracting enough, though; red, white and pink glitter was dusted throughout the space, spreading from where it had been intended to be contained in clusters of flowers on tables, and colourful glass was hung from the ceiling in icicles or gathered into balls that all winked in the flicker of warm light. Where there weren't lumpy, grey-ish candles, hurriedly disguised with more glitter or brass bowls, there were small, woody shells like chestnuts dotted around the room, filled to teetering brim with a viscous sap that gave off a yellowish glow and left the whole diner shimmering.
Nestled in doorframes and above the counter where a spread of food that might be alluring to the particularly brave, were more lovingly crafted decorations: clusters of small, gold leaves in bouquets tied with red ribbons that chimed softly like bells if someone stood underneath them. The food on display did not give a great hint of what the disaster might have been. Rather, it was difficult to discern which dish would be the main culprit. There was a large bowl of a creamy, yellow liquid, with suspicious lumps and blackened flecks floating in it, with a stack of mismatched cups next to it for serving. The coffee pot next to it was probably safer. The foods that weren't cooked, per se, but sliced and piled onto plates were likely innocent, too, though it was entirely possible that some of those fruits should have been cooked to be edible. A tray of what kind of looked like pancakes looked trustworthy enough, assuming the worst of them didn't make it to the serving stage. In general, the decorations were clearly handled more competently.
The days had been dark and cold, and the diner was warm, bright, and ready to leave everyone full of dubiously edible cheer. If you stayed long enough, maybe Tony would even offer you one of those strange bundles he was fastidiously working on at a table, where an occasional crack sent a puff of smoke swirling up among the gently tinkling glass ornaments.
WHERE: The diner
WHAT: A little winter celebration
WHEN: The solstice/end of the year
WARNINGS: Mark it if you get weird. I assume we're all a little busy, so if you want to use this to handwave some cordial introductions or a quick lore dump from Tony, just let me know.
There wasn't any official invitation or forewarning. In fact, Tony hadn't exactly planned to spend his day like this. Arriving at the diner, though, it would be difficult to ignore the acrid smell of burning, or the waft of coffee trying vainly to cover it. The scorched scent could have come from the brazier crackling outside of the diner door, spreading a ring of warmth that left a patch of the walkway cleared of snow, though the effect of that fire was more cozy, inviting anyone in the square near the fountain closer, with a sweet, woody smoke and an extra sharp, green scent from the lurid red and weirdly purple, piney boughs hung around the doorway. The burnt smell was stronger inside, anyway, clearly from a mishap in the kitchen, with another stack of those prickly branches on the diner counter not doing a convincing job of covering a black mark scorched into the surface. The rest of the room might have been distracting enough, though; red, white and pink glitter was dusted throughout the space, spreading from where it had been intended to be contained in clusters of flowers on tables, and colourful glass was hung from the ceiling in icicles or gathered into balls that all winked in the flicker of warm light. Where there weren't lumpy, grey-ish candles, hurriedly disguised with more glitter or brass bowls, there were small, woody shells like chestnuts dotted around the room, filled to teetering brim with a viscous sap that gave off a yellowish glow and left the whole diner shimmering.
Nestled in doorframes and above the counter where a spread of food that might be alluring to the particularly brave, were more lovingly crafted decorations: clusters of small, gold leaves in bouquets tied with red ribbons that chimed softly like bells if someone stood underneath them. The food on display did not give a great hint of what the disaster might have been. Rather, it was difficult to discern which dish would be the main culprit. There was a large bowl of a creamy, yellow liquid, with suspicious lumps and blackened flecks floating in it, with a stack of mismatched cups next to it for serving. The coffee pot next to it was probably safer. The foods that weren't cooked, per se, but sliced and piled onto plates were likely innocent, too, though it was entirely possible that some of those fruits should have been cooked to be edible. A tray of what kind of looked like pancakes looked trustworthy enough, assuming the worst of them didn't make it to the serving stage. In general, the decorations were clearly handled more competently.
The days had been dark and cold, and the diner was warm, bright, and ready to leave everyone full of dubiously edible cheer. If you stayed long enough, maybe Tony would even offer you one of those strange bundles he was fastidiously working on at a table, where an occasional crack sent a puff of smoke swirling up among the gently tinkling glass ornaments.
no subject
Tony's claims of not planning anything got a laugh. "My kind of planning," he said. "Starts with a thought, then you just roll with it." His expression sobered at the admission, the implications. He lifted a hand to drop on Tony's shoulder. "We weren't, no. But if we keep thinking back it just gets harder." Spoken from experience. He wouldn't go so far as to say they shouldn't think back- that would be impossible and he'd be the first to fail. It was hard remembering the good and weird and fun times without remembering just how long they'd been in this place.
"It's more like...since we're stuck here a little longer, we may as well make the best of it."
Especially because they right now had no clear idea of how to maintain the memories if any of them suddenly just got whisked off and sent back.
no subject
He didn't look terribly reassured by Cayde's hand on his shoulder, but he gave it a grateful pat for the gesture nonetheless. 'Making the best of it' only seemed viable when they weren't all withering away at the edge of the universe, making Tony's frown deepen and lip raise, ready to remind Cayde that they didn't all live forever. But Cayde wasn't going to either, was he? That bite drained out of Tony as fast as it appeared, and he eyed Cayde with an intent consideration before he abruptly broke away to turn on Sundance again. "You hear that? We're only wasting time, with this hard to get game. We're supposed to be making the best of it," he said, rocking up on his toes to snatch the mistletoe free from the ceiling and looking very ready to chase her with it.
no subject
Well, whatever was on Tony's mind, he wasn't going to be spoiling the mood trying to pry it out of him. There were festivities to be had anyway, and thawing pizza on the kitchen counter. The Hunter didn't manage to catch himself from taking another accidental sip from his cup, making him sputter as he staggered off to the kitchen to see about how to warm up some of the pizza he'd brought. Hopefully there wouldn't be anything else burning in the kitchen any time soon.