(1708) Summer Coronation

[Circe]

Circe may had found the little game moderately enjoyable. Even when EVERYONE ganged up on her to take away her lead she'd been having fun. She'd known the terrain and had taken advantage of it as well as her experience with actual pistols. Which was the only real term for the "lazer guns" used in these games. They were way to small and light to be treated as anything else. It'd been more fun then she'd thought it would be.


Then again, during park hours as an "employee" the elf couldn't play against children and go all out. To unfair, with upset children unlikely to come back. But the courtiers of Sacramento didn't require such restraint. She'd still lost when the Lost had ganged up on her but she didn't care.


Circe still had the sensor vest on over her work jumpsuit. She didn't bother removing either before finding Alex, "Sup boss!" she cheerfully greeted him, ears bouncing as she walked up to him, "I think you got me a couple of times back there. That was almost as fun as using the real thing."


She turned her head to look back at the "arena" and let out a snort, "Wonder if any of 'em are gonna stumble coming through there?"

[Donovan Ackerman]

Donovan didn’t do much better than Alex when it came to firing a laser. He kept aiming to high out of habit for arcing a shot. He knew lasers didn’t curve but his archery instincts kept kicking in. Only his athleticism helped him not fall too far behind. Running, jumping, and climbing around the course to better positions. Having helped build the course he’d put some climbing ropes on some of the structures. Sure, it was a little unfair to bias the environment to your skill set in a game. On the other hand, all’s fair in love and war. And it wasn’t like it helped too much with a gun runner like Circe on the field and knowing the terrain as well as you. Maybe he should have added some traps after all.

The dark after the game helped him work unobserved (and faster thanks to a fey knack he’d picked up). After finishing the food prep, he grabbed a pasta plate, added two cupcakes to the side of the dish, and then grabbed a shot glass for good measure. He’d already down the drink and a pastry before the music started.

“Howdy,” he said to the King and the Elf. He took a bite out of his second cupcake. Donovan seemed to sparkle in the black like. Whole patches of dirty skin glowed. The smell of manure hung in the air. The Wizened didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn't care. "I'm sure they'll find their way out some time. The food's hard to miss."

[Ingrid]

Ingrid, flushed, in sportswear.

Ingrid at the punch bowl. Ingrid piling up a few tasty treats on a dainty plate. Anything for Ingrid to avoid the gnawing craving for a cigarette; a craving tinged with exertion and excitement; an urging pouring into itchy fingers that have only recently discovered triggers and how to pump them.

Ingrid had been trigger happy. In the close-your-eyes-and-randomly-fire kind of way. She had also been one of the first to fall, since she had not learned the merits of duck-and-cover before, during, or after her Durance. But there had been laughter. Much laughter. An inner voice cautioned that maybe she had been a little too loud.

The Darkling can't speak just yet. She's too busy drinking punch... And punch... And punch dashed with some alcohol if there is any to be had.

Bad girl.

[Thomas Land]

The Mole-Man emerges from the shadows, visibly relieved that the game has ended. He'd declined to play, but even sitting out as a spectator had made him uncomfortable.

Brushing off his tweed suit coat with over-sized Mole's claws, the little Beast spies Ingrid. The Darkling is offered a watery smile and a look he hopes says We need to talk... But this is Summer's coronation, and it is only right that he offer his well-wishes to the King of the Season...

...Even if that King has recently been at odds with his own Monarch.

So, the Mole-Man approaches the gathered Summer courtiers, humbly as always, clawed hands clasped behind his back.

"Hm-hmmmmmm," he hums, an announcement of sorts. "Hello, all. A, um, very...lively event." He offers Circe a weak smile before his beady eyes fix on Alex. "And congratulations, yes, on your coronation." Thomas sketches something of a bow, which further hunches his back. Finally, he turns his attention to Donovan, "Oh, hm, nice to meet you...I'm Thomas. Thomas Land," a clawed hand is extended in greeting to the Woodwalker.

[Seraphina]

Part of her was looking forward to playing laser tag, the other part wasn’t. Her mind had been an interesting place as of late.

But still, she gave it her best. And while she didn’t win or set any records, she still landed a few hits.

And as she emerges from the arena, she beelines for the drinks.

Well, the water anyways. As she hydrates, she looks at who was there thus far. A bows of her head was offered to Ingrid, her Queen. Who seemed to have the same ideas as her, drinks!

The Nix was pretty casual for the night. Given that they were playing laser tag, dressing up was out of the question. Well, she could have, but it made no sense. So she had on loose fitting boyfriend jeans and a white tank top. Sweat glistened on her gilded skin as she decides who to approach first.

[Mhairi Ankaa]

Mhairi didn't have issue with Summer. From her time in Sacramento, the friends of hers that were Springs tended to be Summers, so the Ashen Wisp dawns a tee with a nifty summer themed design, her red pants and a not her fav pair of boots! But ones that were better to run in, and heads out to the High Striker, ready for some adrenaline pumping fun. Hopefully free of all the drama.

Only getting there, she stops. Because. Wow. And nerves. Always the nerves.

So, first, she gives Brown a duck of her head, because this was his party, and drifts away from the crowd. Taking a place near Ingrid and Sera offering both a wave, but the Vernal Monarch a "Hey," reaching out for her own cup of punch, eyeing all the glow in the dark treats, and maybe when she wasn't feeling like she was drowning under the weight of all her anxiety she might decide to grab one, but that wasn't now, so she pulls out a shiny silver flask, "Vodka." her pours herself a healthy measure and offers it to the Darkling in case there wasn't any of the alcohol she sought on the table.

[Donovan Ackerman]

Donovan finished his sweet just as a man approached. There was a brief surge of irrational anger.

Moles. They dug up roots. Spoiled silage. Reduced crop yields. Made mounds that let weeds get a foothold. Burrows that weasels and voles then used. The Woodwalker had very little love for moles and even gave an instinctual growl at Thomas’ approach before catching himself.

“Sorry. Didn’t have the best experience with moles back in my durance. But heard from Alex you’re a librarian,” he said as if that made everything okay.

“Nice to meetchya. I’m Donovan Ackerman.” He took the man’s clawed hand and gave a strong shake. Loam, dirt, and manure all mixed together. “Guess we’re mud brothers now.” He said with a slight smirk. Hoping a joke might help. Not realizing horrible puns were not the way to go generally.