[closed]

[featheradrift]

WHO: Wanderer (featheradrift) & Various
WHAT: November Catch-all for random threads!
WHERE: Anywhere and everywhere???
WHEN: All of November
WARNINGS: Marked in threads

Comments

Closed. @Altria.

[featheradrift]

[ When Altria arrives, she will find the same nine dishes featured in the network on the table in front of the Wanderer.

The man himself is seated with his eyes closed, head tilted down to allow his eyes to be covered by his hat. He's not resting—he doesn't need rest, but he's just waiting patiently.

His eyes open when he hears Altria approach, and he gestures at the food without a word. ]

[excaliburden]

[And, perhaps unsurprisingly, when she gets there, Altria is agog.]

Wow, wow, wowww! You made all of this? All by yourself? It all looks and smells amazing!

[She knew he could cook after the Convenience Store Incident, but this... this is above and beyond, surely??]

[featheradrift]

[ He hides his face with his hat—and shrugs. ]

It's just something I picked up over the years. Nothing impressive.

[ The perks with being a wanderer is that he's been all over the world. Helping here and there (scheming here and there), he's had the chance to pick up a lot of recipes from various regions of Teyvat.

It was a skill he rarely exercised during his tenure with the Harbingers, but one he utilized more as the nameless drifter. Here, he finally has a use for it. ]

[excaliburden]

I think it's really impressive!

[He can try to play it off, but Altria definitely doesn't see it that way; being able to cook not only well, but this many different recipes and items so quickly....!!]

I definitely wouldn't be able to pull off something like this... I think lots of people probably wouldn't.

Sumeru Gang Spaghetti Dinner??????? Closed to Alhaitham, Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari

[featheradrift]

[ After his video to the network, and long after he's done fielding all the questions, comments and trades from that, he sends a map pin to both Cyno and Alhaitham's phones. In the text of the message, he tells both of them to bring whomever they wanted to. Presumably, they'd bring Kaveh and Tighnari. It's quicker this way, he reasons to himself. Less work for him to do.

The food, of course, would have long gone cold if he'd left it on the table while he dealt with his bargaining. But the restaurant comes with a multitude of devices that can keep food warm. He's never seen some of the machines before, but he's quick to learn, and has already figured out how most of them work during his cooking spree earlier today.

Some of the food was nabbed earlier by a gluttonous fairy girl, so he replenishes what he can and adds another Sumeran dish to the menu: Gilded Tajine, which comes out ready just as the first of the group begins to trickle in. ]

[justscribing]

[To nobody's surprise and Hat Guy's expectations, Alhaitham does end up arriving with Kaveh in tow after the offhand mention that he's cooked up a banquet and is now offering the food. It is, in part, to distract Kaveh from the sixth hour of prom preparations Kaveh has been zoned into, and partly because after having been asked he's genuinely curious about the skill of Hat Guy's cooking. It is all very visually impressive in the video, after all.

He offers him a nod.] I see you've had a few takers.

[featheradrift]

Just a gluttonous, oblivious idiot of a woman. [ Said with absolutely none of the heat you'd expect to accompany an insult like that, which speaks volumes as to how he's managed to get along in the city. ]

This stuff wasn't for the people on the network.

[ He sets the Tajine onto the table and lifts the lid, nodding in satisfaction as the stew is cooked to perfection. There's plenty of naan sitting in the kitchen, warmed in the lingering heat of the oven, and he has a few more desserts hidden in the fridges if the group preferred some later, so all-in-all, he thinks he's done with his preparations. ]

Feel free to start eating whenever.

[justscribing]

Oh? [It's the lack of heat but, more than that, it's the fact that this mysterious woman was able to make off with so much food. Even without a Vision, Alhaitham has his doubts that Hat Guy would let anyone infringe upon himself like that. This must be someone who's made a positive enough impression that he would acquiesce.]

You've certainly made a lot of food.

[fussiest]

[ kaveh arrives. he is led by the nose. sort of. it had really been alhaitham scruffing him by the back of the neck and dragging him away from two of his drafts that brought him here to this moment, but it's not as if kaveh hadn't intended on coming to begin with. of course he did. the young man with the hat (calling him 'hat guy' still sounds wrong to kaveh, as if by reducing his identity to mere components of himself he refuses to be seen in gestalt - but also, what difference is calling him 'young man with the hat'? isn't that also the way it goes? kaveh has yet to figure out a middle ground, so this is where he's at) had been kindly in a way that kaveh hadn't entirely expected, and it warmed his heart to see that desire for trust reflected in his gestures.

still, there were drafts. still, time passes without kaveh's knowing. and of course, alhaitham is relentless. kaveh follows his nose as he basks in the scent of something warm and fulfilling. he grins as he raises a hand in greeting. ]

There's you.

[ a feast for the eyes, and for the soul - and a young man caught in between. ]

Thank you again. You really didn't have to feed us, most of all the blockhead over there without a single ounce of gratitude in him. Are you done with set-up, or do you still need some help?

[featheradrift]

[ There's something in the way Kaveh says that, as if, by his words, the drifter suddenly exists, like a beautiful gem that has been placed where it belongs. Like the architect sees him and sees more than just the puppet, the drifter, the helper. Like he believes there's more than just the man before him.

He shakes it off—there's a dinner he has to handle, first. The Tajine is set upon the table and its lid opened to reveal the treasure within. ]

You're just helping me deal with the food. No sense in wasting it.

[ There's a few more things in the kitchen, but those can be brought out later. The dishes have been set, and there's more than enough food for the four of them. ]

Go ahead and dig in.

[fussiest]

[ kaveh brightens. the presentation, kaveh thinks, is much in the way of a grand unveiling. it's food for the eyes - it's food for the soul. this young man has a gentle touch. it becomes clearer and clearer why nahida trusts him so much - because she can see it too, that gentleness.

kaveh smiles. ]

Oh, I'm certainly not eating alone, though. [ kaveh pulls up a seat. and then, because he's kaveh, he pulls up a seat next to him. pats it with the glint of something expectant: ] You'll be joining, yes?

closed. @Hong Lu

[featheradrift]

[ A spar hadn't been on the agenda of things he'd thought he'd be doing today, but sometimes opportunities appeared that you just couldn't pass up on. He intended on asking eventually, once he'd properly settled in and got a feel for the community as a whole. It was always better to observe first before acting. Then Hong Lu came along, and the drifter had decided why not?

But he had another reason to accept the spar. Hong Lu wasn't a mere space-case—he was someone who completely lacked any common sense. And not just the common sense that was actually learned wisdom mislabeled, but the instinct that all mortals had—the sense of danger that kept them alive.

That made him the first person the Wanderer truly considered a danger in this strange city. So it followed that he had to know exactly how dangerous the man could be. Luckily, due to that lack of common sense, Hong Lu had been more than happy to spar with him.

So here he was now, standing in one of the empty lots that dotted the first district. It was quite spacious—more than enough for a good spar, assuming they stayed within the definition of a spar.

Hong Lu would find him with his eyes closed, still and waiting. Upon his approach, the drifter would open his eyes to look at the other man with a smirk. ]

Took you long enough.

[yyds]

[ even with yi sang's directions, the way here had been a wending one. hong lu has never navigated by map because there had never been a need. in the cloistered halls of his childhood home, the way was marked by the footfalls of those before him, their heads bowed to one another in hush reproach as hong lu traced the path set before him by generations of his ancestors and found the groove in the floor that would take him to where he was moved to be the same way rainwater always found the path of least resistance that would take it downstream. then, the bus had been his home, and charon took them to their destination with the kind of wild abandon that had hong lu wonder at the taste of freedom just outside the metal etchings of his wall, how grand it is to trailblaze a path forward uncharted as you headed to the known.

here - the city's paths are empty. they are hardly worn. there is no bus. only hong lu's two feet taking him forward. and so he meanders, observing the line of the skyline changing with no littler wonder based on the angle he takes on. the street signs tower. there are holes along its metal. he makes a mental note to ask yi sang later why the signs would have holes along its metal post, why the ground has grooves along its sides, why buildings had to be rectangles, and why the city had no smell. all things to think about, but all of it delightful in how new it is, how strange it is. it takes hong lu time to come to the purported end of his journey, and even then, this feels new.

the young man standing before him tips his hat. hong lu smiles back, broad and wide and earnest. his hand itches for the length of his guandao. but hong lu has never needed it, not in the way of a warrior. hong lu himself was the weapon. he considers the flat expanse of the lot, and then turns his gaze back to the young man.

of course, he waves. ]

Sorry, I got lost. Hey, why is there nothing here? Did something come along and flatten it already? And what are these lines on the floor?

[ they're yellow, hong lu thinks. like little rectangles. they look a little like lots for a coffin to fit. maybe a place to dig a grave. but the concrete is solid beneath his feet, so that couldn't be it. ]

[featheradrift]

[ Ever full of curiosity, this guy. He wonders if Nahida would have liked him. Perhaps she'd be fascinated by the way he thinks. It's like a child experiencing the world for the first time. He also lacks a filter, much like a child. Really, he is a child, except he's not and is more than capable of doing damage.

His questions are legitimate, but they're not ones the drifter can answer. It's all part of the mystery of this city, of the way it's been built and the technology housed within. Being a man-made place, there's a reason behind everything, he's certain. He's just not privy to it.

So he says, instead: ]

Who cares? The only thing that matters now is that we have plenty of space to spar.

[ He rotates his wrists and flexes his fingers, slowly warming up for the fight. Patiently, he waits to see what Hong Lu will do. ]

[yyds]

[ hong lu grins. ]

Oh, true. There's plenty of space here. If we kick each other all over the place, nobody will complain about the damages.

[ after all, vergilius is around, and hong lu isn't too keen on being killed so soon. well, perhaps once or twice, or just a little. they say you come back from the grave here in a way that hong lu has never experienced before. obviously, he needs to give it a try at least once.

the young man flexes his fingers. hong lu puts his hands on his knees. he stretches out his legs, one at a time, savouring the little bit of burn he feels there. it really has been too long. ]

So? Are there rules? Or do I just make you say 'mercy'?

closed. @Altria | Fairy Tale prompt

[featheradrift]

[ This was starting to get ridiculous. How many times would he be made to go through ridiculous fairy tales?? Perhaps he would not be as annoyed if they hadn't all been absurd stories where he was forced to act out his utterly embarrassing role, but this one had to be the worst of the lot so far.

The drifter found himself in a beautiful dress not unlike the kind he's seen in Fontaine, except far more ornate. He's without his signature wide-brimmed hat, and he has long hair, elaborately styled in a manner befitting a princess. Because that was his role, apparently, in this farce of a fairy tale.

A damsel-in-distress, forced to cry out for help to a shining knight in armor until the wicked Queen beside him was killed.

There was a wave of animated skeletons in front of him, blocking the way for the knight, but it was still clear to him who had appeared to take that position.

From a distance, Altria will spy the Wanderer dressed up as a princess, long hair and all, but unbefitting the role, he looks quite incensed, arms crossed and glaring murderously into the distance. ]

[excaliburden]

[This whole "fairy tale" nonsense is a little laughable, she can't help but think. As if Faerie Britain in and of itself was just a fleeting dream, as if the fae just represent the thought of a fantastical, but silly story...

Well.

There's no time to think about that.

Instead, Altria finds herself in yet another story, her staff in hand, outfit unfamiliar to her, but very wizardly. At least it's easy to move around in, she thinks, as she meanders her way through the story, on the hunt for the goal that she's figured out by now she needs to accomplish.

.... Ah. There's a princess. There are skeletons, a whole army of them. There is a wicked Queen (and oh, isn't that on the nose). Really, the whole thing is so sensory overload, that for a moment, Altria doesn't realize who the princess is. With long hair, in a dress, without his signature hat, it really takes her a moment.



And then it clicks, and she chokes on nothing. Bwah????]

--Y-you?!

[featheradrift]

[ If looks could kill, the Evil Queen, the undead army andAltria would all be corpses blazing from the raging anger in his eyes. ]

If I hear a single comment about this stupid costume, I will destroy you.

[ This is the most hostile he's ever been to Altria, but it's not just the outfit. Both of them know that a bit of acting is going to be required to complete the scenario, and him? He has to actually pretend to be a weak, helpless little princess crying for her powerful saviour.

No. Absolutely not. He refuses to play at this domain's stupid game. In fact, he turns to the queen next to him and unleashes a vicious kick at her head. Unfortunately, the queen simply blocks it with a magic shield, and conjures a magical rope around the drifter to immobilize both his arms and legs. ]

How dare you?!?

1/2

[excaliburden]

[She doesn't seem offended, at least, but that could be because she mostly just looks boggled and astonished by all of this.

Hello???

Wanderer???

What happened to you???]

closed. @Tsuruno

[featheradrift]

[ It's a good thing he doesn't need sleep, because he's been cooking up a storm since he's managed to rid himself of the sample dishes for the network message. To be precise, he gave himself a few hours of idleness as he planned out what to cook next, and then it was off to work. There were several people whom he owed food, and one of them would be coming tomorrow.

Tsuruno's main request had been omurice, a dish that he's quite familiar with, being one from Inazuma. He could save it to be cooked last, as she'd also wanted a taste test of all the dishes he'd listed in a different message: baklava, chocolate truffles, pita pockets, and fish and chips.

They're not difficult to make, which gives him enough time to cook several more that he thinks would work well for the gala. Cheese-filled potato balls covered in a thick masala sauce, panipuri, pâte de fruit and samosas. He's mindful to cook a small batch of each item, as he'd been warned of the potential for a food shortage. That, and Tsuruno couldn't possibly eat everything by herself. He was not going to be helping her either.

It's close to noon when he's done all of that, so he finally gets started on the omurice. It's a simple dish, all things said. The hardest part would be making the perfect omelette, which required a quick hand and precise control over the heat of the pan. But it's not much trouble for the drifter, and he assembles the finished omurice easily.

She'd said that people drew using the ketchup, but... he opts to do his usual: just a classic wave, no drawing. It's not his style to add something so cutesy to his food.

When Tsuruno arrives at the restaurant, she'll find several plates waiting for her: the center plate, the requested omurice. The plates to the left held the savoury food items: a pita pocket, part of a fried fish in batter and some accompanying chips, a samosa, two potato balls and two pieces of panipuri. The ones on the right had the sweets: a portion of a baklava, a chocolate truffle, and several pieces of pâte de fruit. It's still a lot, but he's clearly done his best to pare it all down to a reasonable amount.

The man himself sat on the opposite side of the table and offered a half-hearted wave when he spots her. ]

[fanstheflames]

[ It's rare to come into a restaurant and see food waiting that didn't just... miraculously appear from a source that makes no sense. But she smiles to see it, because she knows it's coming from an actual source. Even with the knowledge that this isn't the full amount of it, it's still a lot of food, which meant he'd put in a lot of effort and she's grateful for it.

So he waves halfheartedly and she waves enthusiastically, arm flying over her head. How can one not be excited to see someone else? Or to see food, for that matter? ]

Thanks for having me! How's adjusting been so far?

[featheradrift]

[ She's far too energetic for someone stuck in this hellhole of a city. But he's discovered that people are way too friendly and accommodating in here, so maybe he ought to have expected it.

He shrugs at the question. ]

About as expected. The place isn't that big compared to Sumeru City.

[ He gestures at her to have a seat. ]

I made a few more things that might work for the gala.

closed. @Kaveh and Alhaitham | Content Warning: Death, Gore, Suicide, Body Horror

[featheradrift]

[ He had underestimated their kidnappers. Psychological damage was what he'd been warned about, but he'd shrugged everyone off, thinking there was nothing worse that could be done to him now. To no longer wish to exist; could one go any lower? He hadn't thought so. But he should have realized his hang-ups about what had happened in Tatarasuna would be used against him.

Before, he had cast aside the device that saved him, thinking the shriveled heart within belonged to another. One that Niwa had carved out of an innocent bystander with his own hands. But no, it had been Niwa's heart in that device, and he had cast it aside because of a misunderstanding. He regretted it. Not treating Niwa's heart with the care it deserved. He regretted leaving it at Tatarasuna that day, leaving everyone, and then destroying their clans centuries later.

Figures that they'd tap into his regrets and force him to play it out. Now he has the blood and heart of another whom he considered—not a friend, because a friend is someone like Niwa, and he would never be as close to another as he was with Niwa—but still, he could admit that he liked Kaveh, and he's had the architect's heart and blood on his hands, to resolve the twisted fairy tale the two had been trapped in.

Now, his identity is being exposed once again. Where the red of the art installation had drawn the lines on his skin with light, visible but not truly there, his joints were now well and truly exposed to the air, marking him for the puppet he is. Worse, though, is the outfit he's been put in for this fairy tale. Simple and undecorated, but exceptional in quality—it's far too familiar for comfort.

Once upon a time, he had been called the Kabukimono, and was nothing but a naive puppet who held the world in wonder. It seemed that would be his role once more in this fairy tale.

He looks up across the area, to the two others who've joined him, and his breath catches. His mouth opens, but no words come out. Then, the script settles in his brain and he realizes: it can always get worse, in this city. ]

I...

[justscribing]

[Alhaitham closes his eyes in one story and opens them in other. This is one the first time he's been put through this cycle. It's not even the first time he's been through it with Kaveh and Hat Guy. It's not even the first time Kaveh has had to die within the script.

But it sinks in, the script, and Alhaitham still feels himself stiffening at it. The story of a puppet who left home to search for life and love. A puppet who sought to be as human as he was crafted after. A witch, a princess. And at the end the people who made him, and the only people who can realize his dream.

But what's asked seems impossible. Alhaitham's gaze sets on Hat Guy looking back at them in absolute horror.]

[fussiest]

[ kaveh opens his eyes. immediately, he finds impetus to shut them again. suddenly, the faith that everyone has in the rising and the setting of the sun seems entirely misplaced because sometimes you just didn't want the sun to rise anymore, and can people please stop praying for the sun, it really is getting too powerful. it's always the same sun cast over these plays, or so kaveh has realised. it had been so with alhaitham. it had been so with the young man in the hat. and now, the two of them are convened and that same sun is a fourth wheel in the sky, ever-churning towards the end of a particularly unpleasant story, and kaveh isn't certain if he wants to find a bow and shoot the sun out of the sky, or if he wants to shoot himself and put them all out of this misery.

but this isn't that sort of story. this story can't be resolved simply by kaveh's death. that's the horror of it. the young man sits there swathed in white and purple. it reminds kaveh of a doll that has been reduced to the purest of its form, the initial drafting stages, before the doll has taken on clothing and form and material. the young man had not been crafted to resemble a human. kaveh now understands the implications, and it sits in the pit of his stomach much in the way of a stone.

there is a script to follow. they have all the time in the world to follow it. the first thing kaveh does is look to the young man. sitting across from him, diametrically opposed, kaveh opens his mouth: ]

I'm sorry.

[ is the first thing kaveh says. ]