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Who: Everyone!
What: January's welcome log. Oh also part one of the Ghost log.
When: Jan 1st-7th
Where: All over the place.
Warnings:
Notes: This is your January welcome log with Sphere New Year Traditions. Come in, go nuts.
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A New Year A New You

A new day has come.

So unlike many other places, the Sphere doesn’t celebrate New Years on New Year’s Eve. Instead they celebrate it in s three day festival commencing on January first to the third. The festival starts on the first at dawn with people waking up early to watch the first unofficial sunrise in the Sphere. Unlike most other days, this sunrise is universal, moving into each of the domes and filling them with such a bright light that it looks like an idealized version of a bright summer’s day. Groups of people join together to watch it in the dormitory dorms as well as in several public areas. The agriculture dome and the recreational domes are popular places for such activities and there are several places where there appear to be flowers blooming and almost the sound of birdsong.

Also in the more public places, there are large tables filled up with what seems to be a standard light breakfast of fruit, cheese and various loaves of bread, including a particular loaf of bread that everyone is given either in their attendance or in the dome itself. It’s a circular loaf with nuts on it that’s perfect for sharing. Indeed people keep trying to share a piece with the characters around them.

One thing that’s missing though? None of the places seem to have any sort of caffeine in any form. If questioned about it, someone knowledgeable will respond: “you can’t have caffeine until the sun sets!” The words come with a good natured laugh and characters are then handed a glass of fruit juice.

Out with the old and in with the new

As the sun is about to set on the first day, crowds gather in the rec dome. There in the middle of the area there’s a large bonfire set up. The smoke billows up towards the top of the dome before it disappears. People gathered around the fires are throwing old possessions into it, some of which are their own and some of them are the possessions of the people who had left. The idea is to unburden yourself of things to face the new year with a clean slate.

There are smaller fires around, and they burn different colors with the smoke being sweet smelling and light. Some people show the newcomers how to gather the smoke in their hands and release it over their heads, in order to clear out dark thoughts and whatever is troubling people. The smoke gives people a slight feeling of euphoria, and makes them feel as if whatever is happening isn’t quite as bad as they think it is.

And we’re dancing through life

On the second day, the public domes are fairly dead. The merchant dome is closed and only a few restaurants are open, and only those are for delivery. The entire city almost seems to be holding their breath and waiting for something. When the clock turns to eight pm, it’s almost as if the entire city is lit in a combination of stars and candlelight. In the gardens in the Rec dome, a large ball has been set up. Everyone in the city has been given their ideal fancy dress outfit, including mask in order to wear to it. The idea behind it is that the characters are in the middle of their transitional state. Day one was the day they put their old life behind them, and day three will be the day that they form their new selves for the year ahead. Which is why at the ball, people wear masks and have the option to give into some of the things that they wouldn’t normally do.

Wanna eat that there whole pint of ice cream? Go nuts. Wanna drink a bottle of vodka? Hey it’s your liver and it’s not like you can die! Wanna hook up in a dark corner with a stranger. It’s your life and there’s some nice velvet couches over there; out of sight and out of mind.

Dinner is in the form of an elaborate meal, sort of along the idea of Fat Tuesday in New Orleans, no expense is spared and everything is extremely well done and extravagant. Rich food, insane desserts, open bar, everything this night is too excess. At various points in the evening, the sky which has been showing stars shifts into things like fireworks, and glowy nebuleuses, causing people to burst into spontaneous bouts of applause.

All the while, there are various and shifting dance floors with an assortment of music to dance to, including classical, swing, fiddles, big band, pop, R&B, and basically anything that you can think of. The dances that people do there are as varied as the population, the drunkenness level and of course the all important dances of people's native Caucasia.

The party goes until dawn, at which point, the drunken revelries spill onto the streets, and people return to their personal domes singing loudly and off key.

A new day a new you

So despite however much you may have done the night before, or whatever else you may have engaged in, and however long you may have stayed awake for, when your head hits the pillow, you wake up feeling well great for lack of a better word. You have no hangover, you're not tired, you're not in pain, and any heavy or dark thoughts will suddenly seem not at all so bad. It may be better than you've felt in your entire time in the Sphere, or better than a long time depending on how things are at home.

Either way, when you wake up, day is late (even if your character doesn't normally sleep) and there is a crowd of people in the agriculture dome. People are there working together in order to plant new things in the greenhouse. They're planting baby plants that will grow to feed people in the new year, according to Annie, and it's all about breathing new life into the world.

Afterwards, there are different things like yoga and meditation classes, and people just spread out smiling among the flowers. No one is as pushy as normal, it's just kind of there. They're just kind of there, stretching, enjoying the sunshine and just kind of chilling.

Later, people set up a large sort of barbecue and outdoor kitchen. Food is cooked communally, and people will ask your character to come and cook. Even if you can't cook, passing out food or cleaning up. This is a community building activity people tell ya, so you can go with it or not. But the rest of the city is, so please enjoy some delicious food your characters may or may not have a hand in cooking or giving out. Wine and fruit juice is in a wide abundance here, as is water and caffeinated drinks. A few people can even be found having some harder stuff (vodka and whiskey) if your character looks to be in need of it.

And the end of the night, the sky above the dome lights up with aurora borealis, in brilliant lights and hues, and there are what appear to be a smattering of actual, living fireflies buzzing lazily around. People who are here longer than the characters seem puzzled, and more than a few children and adults are out catching them between their palms.

Ghosts of years ago.

So, for the past three months or so now, there have been ghosts intermittently showing up in the Sphere. Some ghosts are ones you know, some ghosts aren't, but for the most part there has been very little lasting interaction. Until now. As there's introspection happening, the ghosts are more and more drawn to it, but only now there's something less intelligent in their eyes: there's a hunger. Ghosts are trying to leech off the life forces of everyone in the Sphere, and the best way to stop them is not to be alone. But either way, death is stalking the feast, and it's haunting you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ah, yes; just what he needed - though, from the weight resting against his other shoulder, Dave supposes this one is more tangible. The real deal, even.

"Not much. Just enjoying my new occupation as armrest I guess. Pay's kind of shit, if I'm being honest, but so's everything else in this joint so I'm pretty sure this place ain't even capable of having a single thing that can't be quantified as resting firmly in the category of 'shit' which, as I'm learning, is apparently broader than I thought it was. It's an experience."

His voice is completely flat.

“Food’s shit, setting’s shit. Let’s not talk about the decor or ambiance. If I was a more ruthless man I’d get my ass on Yelp and give it a two star review.”

Bro isn’t really sure what he did to deserve getting shunted into this place. He didn’t really expect fate or destiny or whatever horse shit tried to say it drove the out of control bus that is existence to make any sense since the only possible destination is a ditch with a blazing tire fire at the bottom of it. Dave at least is here. And older.

Much older.

There’s a lot of things he wants to ask. To know about what he went through, what his life was like. How the fuck did Bro miss all this? Best to ask the real important questions.

“Who’s Casperetta?” he asks, pointing at the ghost girl.

Man, how does he even begin to explain? The thing with Bro is that Dave is never really sure what kind of answer he expects. A non-answer like the types Bro himself is so fond of? Something witty and scathing? A combination of both?

He doesn't have the energy for this (for reasons that may have to do with the fact that this ghost has been latched onto him for a good while now), so he decides it's best not to overthink it.

"Former coworker, kind of. One of those types who looks like a complete goodie-two-shoes all the way up until she lets her hair down and reveals she's actually a complete sadist whose idea of foreplay probably involves stabbing you like fifty times in a row with the world's tiniest knife."

He's... a little perturbed by the fact that this place seems to have conjured her up for him, but he's not about to let that show.

"You probably would've liked her."

Despite the layer of obnoxious ass irony that Bro wrapped the question in, it was a sincere one. He is interested to the nines as to what Dave’s life has been like until now. He can’t express that like a functional fucking adult, since he’s never been that and has never known how.

“I would never cockblock bro,” Bro says flatly. “Guess you had more help getting the job done than early reports thought.”

That earns a short laugh from Dave. "Just for the record, she didn't wanna fuck me. Fuck with me, yeah. Fuck my shit up? Probably. But she wasn't into me like that, or if she was she was good at hiding it, I guess."

A pause.

"Wait. Who the fuck is reporting on me?"

“I got ears everywhere, bro,” Bro says, not at all sounding like an ominous dickweasel. “Guess some wires got crossed, because the buzz I got was there were four Sburb players that get to shape shit.”

Dave goes rigid the moment the word "Sburb" falls from Bro's lips. Visions of heat and death - of the sensation of falling - flash through his mind.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and tries to picture something else. "She's not from Sburb," he says, totally nonplussed. "That shit game is old news, Bro."

Poker face never failing, Bro considers that bit of intel. That little nugget. Alright then.

“Already got business done, huh?” Bro asks. “Met this senorita in your new world. She must have some cajones to talk to a god like that.” Bro approves deeply. Maybe not so much she’d fuck with Dave specifically, but to give attitude to gods? That is a sentiment with which Bro Strider could be down.

What the fuck? How much did Bro know about Sburb? Way more than he let on, apparently, which, in retrospect, isn't so surprising. It's not like he's exactly known for sharing his knowledge with the world.

Puppet porn? Yes. Anything else? Not so much.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure the only thing that came close to terrifying her was mushy shit. Friendship talk. Legit affection. That kind of stuff."

He can just picture her now sticking a tongue out in disgust in hurling death threats at anyone foolish enough to display such sentiments within hearing distance of her.

"Like I said; you probably would've liked her."

Bro just nods at that. Dunking on friendship nonsense? Sounds good to him. He can pretty much immediately like her for that. Sounds like the girl knew how to keep her cool. That’s respectable, to know your roll like that.

“She sounds legit,” Bro says.

Bro holds out a fist for the ghost girl to pound. Cause he is pretty sure she knew what’s up with life.

For a brief moment, the ghost of the girl turns to Bro, eyes wandering from his face to his fist multiple times, speculatively. Then she lets out a tiny bark of a laugh and dissipates.

Dave stands up a little straighter without the weight pressing down on him.

"Guess the feeling wasn't mutual."

“I can respect that,” Bro says. And he does. Bro will take having someone laugh in his face over feigned respect. The former should be saluted, the latter only held in contempt. The bitch apparently wears her misanthropy on her sleeve, and that’s something Bro just wishes more people would do.

“We’d best be making our own exits, stage left,” Bro says. “She has the right idea with that.”

"You aren't gonna find any arguments from me."

Fuck this place, seriously. If he could poof himself out of existence here and back to where he came from the way he's sure she just did, he'd do just that. "The most bumping thing about this shit party's the ghosts, anyway."

So with that being said, Dave makes a hasty exit with Bro, not keen on wasting any more time here. It's back to their... dome. Ugh. It's like he got teleported straight into a low-budget Syfy show. Dave's lips purse slightly into a frown as he gives their current place of residence a once-over.

"Home sweet home."

Yeah, he really can't sound any less enthusiastic to be here.

“When the dead are the pulse of the party you know you fucked up,” Bro agrees.

Bro does not give a single flying fuck about this place. He doesn’t hate it. Well. He doesn’t hate it yet. For the most part he’s ambivalent to it. It’s just a place, not his, but Bro has to wonder if any place ever really fucking was.

Bro paces the dome, disgusted and nonplussed. This place is a disgrace. It has no good way to defend it and security is severely lacking. How the fuck is Bro supposed to live somewhere that doesn’t have security cameras to the nines?

Then Bro finds the bedroom. “Check it out,” Bro says, looking at the single bed. Then the dressers. Well lookie lookie. The dressers are fingerprint activated. That’s cute. That’s neat. Bro is still hoping Dave will think you move important shit out of his, because it won’t take Bro long to crack it.

Scrutinizing this place would be different if he were on his own. With Bro with him, it brings another rising feeling of dread with him as he begins to remember why he hated living with his brother. He's already picturing smuppets covering every inch of the furniture, the hallways.

And then there's the way Bro gestures to the bed and the dressers. Dave can feel the hairs on his neck stand on end; there will be no privacy of his own to be had here, he can already tell that much for a fact.

But, perhaps more pressingly at the moment...

"Did they seriously only give us one bed."

Yes, it's big enough for two people to share, but for fuck's sake.

“Damn right,” Bro says. “Looks like one of us crashes on the couch.”

Bro says this authoritatively, as if sharing the fucking thing would be impossible to even consider.

Oh, no. Oh hell no. Dave Strider, the god of turntablism and beloved celebrity, is not being relegated to sleeping on a shitty couch. That shit's for people who haven't made it yet; two-bit musicians still struggling to pay rent, their names so obscure even the biggest of hipsters haven't heard of them.

He would heave a heavy sigh befitting of the prima donna that his cushy life in Mobius had turned him into, but he doesn't want to earn Bro's scorn. He knows his brother, and he knows what's next is...

"Bro. Roof. Now."

He's doing it man.
He's MAKING THIS HAPEN.

Bro pauses for a moment. He keeps his gaze on Dave, expression cool and hidden. His shades as always are the perfect mask to his feelings. His poker face is on point. Nothing about Dirk Strider’s feelings even begin to leak out. That faucet is locked down tight.

Just regards Dave with a coolness Dave is all too familiar with. Doesn’t say a word.

Bro smiles.

Doesn’t speak but that poker face thaws. Shows some cracks when his lips lift up. Bro doesn’t say a word. Just goes to be the first outside.

And then stares up at the dome’s ‘roof’.

“Piece of shit,” he says of it.

"Oh."

It's a flat 'oh.' Dave isn't really feeling much about it. There's no way in hell they're going to be able to fight on top of that thing, though, and from the sounds of it, even Bro isn't insane enough to make an attempt.

"Well, alright then."

Without another word, he reaches for his coat pocket, grabbing his phone from within and setting it to blast a tune of his making at full blast. It's one Dave knows like the back of his hand, but Bro will undoubtedly have questions. Whatever, though; the best thing to do to show how absolutely not insecure about the idea he is is to keep moving, so he quickly pockets the phone again.

Then, without wasting any time, he materializes his sword, gripping it tightly in his hands as he charges forward at Bro with it.

Bro can appreciate some battle music, but this is not exactly his choice when it comes to kicking ass. The smile he had earlier is gone, hardening back further into his poker face. The tune is undoubtedly Dave’s, even as the whiny, melodramatic ass lyrics sort of annoy him. What is this shit? Why would Dave make this?

No time to consider it though. As Dave charges, Bro draws his katana to parry. Launches a kick at Dave’s stomach to try and force him back.

Annoyance is an emotion, too, even if Dave doesn't get much from it. He'll keep that bit that he's getting in reserve - it's definitely not enough that he can afford to go wasting energy willy-nilly.

Dave is expecting Bro to parry (it's Bro, after all), but it's still been so long since he's battled another flashstepper that that brief moment of consideration in his mind as he wonders what parts of the song is causing Bro's annoyance (though, frankly, as the lyrics spill forth from his phone, he finds himself inwardly cringing) dulls his senses enough that he isn't able to avoid the kick to his stomach.

Digging his heels into the dirt to keep from skidding back too far, Dave glances down... "Shit!" ...for just briefly enough to get a good gander at the giant footprint now marring his coat. This coat was expensive, goddamn it.

Sorry about the threads Dave, but you’ve got no time to worry about those. This is a fight son, and while Bro can admire a dude with enough jack that he sports some sick threads, they aren’t really practical, huh?

Bro decides to try and exploit that brief moment where Dave takes a look at the souvenir Bro got him on his chest. The song has gone from annoying Bro to honestly making him angry. Bro tries to take a stab at the phone, hoping to shut it the fuck up.

Are you serious with this shit? Luckily, this time, Dave is able to dodge in time, narrowly missing the edge of Bro's sword as he leaps back.

"What the fuck, Bro??"

There are so many things wrong with what just happened. First off, he needs that phone. Second, he can't replace it if something happens to it. Third, if Dave had dodged a little more shittily, Bro could've ended up shanking him.

He still has a trump card up his sleeve in the event that something like that goes down, but it's not as if Bro knows that.

But okay; forget that for a moment. Bro is a colossal dick. What else is new, he supposes. Without wasting another second, he ducks low and aims his sword for Bro's knees.

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