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
The shadow the Bull cast as he stepped through the doorway, looming tall and broad between Gladio and the fire outside, did a lot of announce his arrival before he responded to the other man's call.
"You got at least one guy."
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He nodded in approval and held his hand out.
"Gladio. Never seen anyone like you before."
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"You aren't the guy who burned dinner, are you?"
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"Fuck know. I'm not the greatest cook, but I definitely didn't cook here. I don't know the stuff around yet."
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"Yeah, okay. Just so we're clear, it wasn't me, either. the culprit's got some answering to do." Though the grin suggests Bull isn't completely serious about that. "You're new." He's made a mind to at least know the faces of the others around, even if he doesn't know them personally.
no subject
"Quite new. Just got here, more or less. Trying to figure this place out. Seems a bit bad off at the moment."
no subject
Another chuckle for the Bull just to let gladio know just how right he was about that one.
"I know, right? Of course, I think it's kind of off most of the time." He rolls his massive shoulder in a shrug. "There's weird crap all the time, weird food, weird meat. Just...weird."
no subject
"So what you're saying is I'm not likely to be getting a behemoth brisket any time soon? Shame, but hey, part of being in a new place is learning the cuisine."
no subject
It was the small favors, really. "What's normal for you?"
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Normal for him? Man, that's a complicated thing to think about.
"I mean, if what's normal for me isn't normal for you, how do I really describe it?"
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He shrugged. "I don't know. Start talking. We'll see if it sounds familiar. What do you do for employment? How do you get around? What do you eat and where do you eat it?"
The former spy could learn a lot about a person just based on how they answered questions.
no subject
Still, he has to think carefully before he comments on everything. Questions should be answered relatively carefully.
"Cup noodles. Grilled meat. Whatever Iggy could cook up when he was feeling like cooking for us. As for employment, these days back home I'm mostly a hunter, though I used to be a bodyguard. We got around by cars and trucks, sometimes chocobos or boats. And I think I already covered the food. You're really curious on this stuff. Maybe you should answer them too."
no subject
There were a few things Gladio mentioned the Bull had never heard of, but he nodded nonetheless. "Sure, sure. Don't know what cup noodles are. I'm a mercenary, got my group, the Bull's Chargers. We mostly take gigs for uptight nobles who think we're dumb muscle and that's just fine with us, keeps things simple. Don't know what a chocobo is, either, but we've got boats, horses." He shrugged. "Carriages?" The last was a question, to gauge whether or not the idea was familiar to Gladio.
no subject
In fact, to seal the deal he holds up his fist for a bump. Yeah, you can leave him hanging if you don't know what it is.
"Cup noodles are the best. Basically instant food. Dried noodles and flavoring and you just pour boiling water over it and wait a few minutes. Bam, awesome noodle soup. Fucking miracle food. And speaking as a noble who isn't uptight, my family prefers to make sure we look like dumb muscle. But it's better to be brawn and brains, and you're clearly like that too. Tempted to make you an honorary Amicitia."
That said, he leans back and smiles at Bull. Carriages? Oh man he's got a great pun.
"Well, we haven't trotted the carriages out in years," he said with a grin. "The cars are more secure these days."
no subject
"Shit, that sounds badass." How convenient would that be to have on the road, huh? Seriously. He grins at the compliment, though. "No idea what that means, but it sounds important. I'll take it as a compliment."
He chuckles. "That one was cute. Still don't know what a car is, though."
no subject
"That's my family. I'm the latest heir of the Amicitia line. We've been the bodyguards of kings for over a hundred generations. We live to protect."
And for him that's a matter of pride. Deep pride. He would give everything for Noctis, and to protect the world too, by protecting Noctis.
"Okay, so a car is like a carriage, but it runs without chocobos or other animals pulling it. Got its own engine to make it go. And it can get fast. Easily sustain well over seventy miles an hour if you've got clear roads."
no subject
"Eh, I think I'll stick with the Chargers. I've been a bodyguard, sure, but mercenary work lets you travel a lot. Thanks, though. Says a lot when you don't even know what I can do."
And the Bull could do a lot.
"What the Hell's a chocobo?" He blinked. "And who the Hell needs to go that fast?!"
no subject
"Hunter work too. I got lucky enough to get to do a bit of both. And come on, I've been training since I was a kid. Even if you're not the same species, I can see a warrior when I look at the body form. You're trained. Damn good too. Probably some big ass weapon to keep up with your size. Gotta be cool."
AS for chocobos, well, he wished he could show Bull a picture.
"Big yellow riding birds."
no subject
"Could be, big guy. Could be." He could also be a trained spy, which he was.
"...people ride giant birds?" That seemed to be the most unbelievable part of what Gladio had told him.
no subject
"Yep. Good birds too. Pretty fast on their own. You can race them, and of course if you're going to drag carriages out, you need them."
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"See, that's what horses are for."
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"What, so, they do all your heavy lifting? Carting things, all that?" More than anything, he was having difficulty imagining a bird being as strong as a horse.
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"Yep. You can also ride them. They're pretty friendly birds most of the time, and great over all sorts of terrain. And we've been working with them in the latest years, encouraging them to build up their magic and training them so they can help defend themselves in the wild when working with people."
no subject
"Magic birds?" He chuckled. Dorian would kill to get his hands on a magic bird.
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