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(no subject)

Who: Everyone!
Where: Anywhere
What: May mod log!
When: The First two weeks of May.
Warnings: Use your best discretion.

May Open log

First of May, First of May

So apparently the open festive mood on the locals hasn’t stopped so May opens with a tradition that happens within it. It’s May Day, or Beltane if you’re feeling formal and it doesn’t just last for the day. Instead it lasts for two weeks, because why do in one day what you can party for multiple days over?

There are the traditional May Day things of course. There’s the May pole stretching upwards with its brightly colored ribbons welcoming people to do it either together or separately. The colors are explained of course, purple for a good year, pink for fertility, green for fiscal gain, blue for calmness. Each ribbon wrapped around the ancient poll is a wish, an old woman tells you. So you should take it seriously. But if you do is up to you.

Ringing outside of the giant circle in the recreation dome are large bonfires. People are writing down their wishes for the year and burning them into the universe. Some more… adventurous people are hopping over the fire in order to increase the effectiveness of the wishes. In case you were wondering, John is standing ready with a med kit and a judgmental look on her face.

There are small picnics set up around rather than tables, and spring foods are placed on it. Strawberries, oat cakes, chocolate, and things like real food are scattered on them, letting people pick and share the platters around them equally. Wine flows freely, of course. Wine made here in the Sphere that comes in a variety of fruited flavors.

Traditional things such as three legged races and general races are occurring, people grouping those with powers together in order to make it fair. Other games are happening. Including Max in the dunk tank for a few minutes, so you may wanna get that in.

There are of course things that are non-traditional as well. After all, this is the Sphere. A series of bouncy castles is set up, as is an inflatable obstacle course. One of the larger castles is even set aside for the adults because well, why not.

Several large ball pits are set up and people are bringing drinks to them. There’s no way that can go wrong. It’s adults only because sometimes everyone just needs a ball pit.

Fireworks happen every night. Or at least something that looks like fireworks, minus the fire and the noise. But they fill the sky above the Sphere, making it seem as if they are under a real sky.

painting the roses red.

After celebrating the spring in April, May brings with it the work of what spring actually entails. What it entails especially after the loss of the person in charge (rip Annie) is doing the sort of normal planting in the fields. There are people around to supervise and to hand out seeds and the other things that one needs to successfully plant fields and all of that.

There are other fields and vegetable patches to be weeded and harvested, because the agriculture dome tends to always be in a state of flux depending on how many people are currently living in the sphere at the time.

But it wouldn’t be a community event if food wasn’t provided, so there’s a sort of barbecue going on. It definitely smells like barbecue that’s for sure, and there are people tending long pits of things that look like meat but that definitely aren’t. Still it tastes like good old bbq and that’s really what matters isn’t it?

Of course it wouldn’t be bbq without beer, so there’s a lot of it. It’s free-flowing (a little too free-flowing actually) and some of the teenagers have gotten their hands on it. On way too much of it as a matter of fact. Which is why it seemed like a good idea to them to show up at the work picnic with squirt guns full of washable paint.

If it’s washable and non-toxic, one argues, then it’s not as if anyone can be really angry.

But honestly it’s a paint fight. Join in or be an innocent victim there are definitely squirt guns a plenty around.

Everyone loves bathtime, right?

Well, people requested baths, so the staff at the pools in the Rec dome have tried to accommodate them! While normally, the events at the pools go something like this: The largest of the three pools, and the light is constant and sunny here. The large pool is Olympic sized, and is a sparkling blue. It’s fresh water, and probably clean enough to drink. I still wouldn’t drink it. The second pool is slightly smaller and more kidney shaped with a gradual sand mound at one end of it. This pool is salt water and looks a bit more like a beach than a pool. The third pool is a kiddie pool, complete with a splash pad, that’s running. Buckets drop, it’s got one of those mushroom things, and sprinkler jets. There aren’t any kids though, so people are welcome to go nuts.

Bathing suits and towels are provided in the divided changing rooms. There’s frozen and fruity drinks flowing freely, along with finger food and snacks.

The Sphere has increased it towards bathing though, through the use of temporary means. There’s a large bamboo building near it, and inside are various sets of hot and cool pools, sauna and steam pools, a masseuse and other spa treatments and the like. There’s three options for these times. 1.Strictly bathing suits, 2, strictly mixed nudity/ bathing suits and 3. Strictly separated nudity. No one below the age of eighteen is getting naked in the baths, sorry kids.

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The gown the woman wears registered as older than Persephone herself is from, but ain't really something that means anything in a time when folks are dragging cloth from anywhere they get it. But it's the woman's eyes and voice that make her think she's from a begone era: the slightly wild way she watches the other women. Either that or she's a prude and Persephone tries not to just judge people like that right off.

Persephone's voice is husky and low, smoke and ash. "Nope, sure don't unless it ain't none of them. They all just don't taste right. They got nothin' to em: no sunshine, no rain, no drought, no thunderstorms or cold. They're too damned perfect and it makes the fruit of the vine lackin' in taste. It's a god damn tragedy." Humphing after her words, Persephone's hand just fumbles in the bodice of her dress and she pulls out a silver flask shaped like a ring. Unscrewing the top with an exceptionally practiced hand (some earth civilizations had risen and fell since she'd started drinking out of this here thing) and she offers it to the woman. "Here, try this. Careful though, it's got a kick."

"Be surprised if ya did try somethin' like it before. It's fruit of the vine, since the world began." Back before the world had been savaged by wind and rain and storms and sun, from before the seasons had stopped. Since before everything had been wrecked. It was the nature of the flask that it kept refilling itself as it had when her favorite sibling Dio had handed it to her, and even if she ain't seen him in a good long time, it still meant that it was working, perhaps a million years later.

"Came from Olympus back home, fruit of one of the first harvest from my Mama's garden." From even before Persephone had slipped down into the dirt with her husband, since before her contract and coming to the underworld, since before there were seasons and definitely before there weren't any anymore. "Don't know who you are honey, but I'm Persephone, and I'm new here."

Letting it go easily and without any comment on what his reasoning for not being able to see them before was, Beverly just gestures to the lights that are playing out over their faces. "Is this better? That you can see it, I mean."

The woman's speech is rough, far from even the cultured tongue of either of the courts, but there's a plainness in her words that Anne couldn't help but appreciate after the flowery words of the English court. The way she talks of wine, she wonders if her family are wine merchants of a sort, that would explain her knowledge and dress if not her manner of speech.

"I suppose it would be difficult for wine to hold such properties when grown underwater." She couldn't even understand how it was done, but then, there was so much to this place she didn't understand.

She blinked at the preferred flask, and was equally shocked and impressed at the idea to hide something rare and precious down the front of a gown.

"Thank you," She accepted the flask, for a moment, curious at its shape, before taking a small sip, taking the woman's words to heart. Her preference was more for small ale or cider, and she did start back a little at the taste. "That is definitely strong."

She handed it back to her. "My name is Anne."

Persephone's response is a long, low sort of laugh as she looks to the girl standing before her. After so long spent underground, she can see when a person has a bit o'the world of death on them. With Letha it shines, but she also knows that the girl ain't divine and it ain't the acrid heat of Hadestown that clings to her skin--it ain't the specters of the dead workers either. It's a different bit of death, but the decay of it ain't something that she'd mistake for anything else.

"'Gardening magic,'" the words are echoed back with a wicked sort of grin and coupled with a slow roll of the woman's shoulder. "Goddess of the Spring, guess you could call it the same sort of thing, sister." There's a little movement of her finger, conducting a bit of a symphony as that divine magic brushes against Letha's hair, forming a black rose stripped of it's thorns into the mess of dark there, anchoring itself with that deep green stem so that it wouldn't just fall out, but not so much that it would be difficult to remove when the time came. "'m Persephone." Her name is expected to be known, because other people had known it before, and certainly everyone back home had known it, even if they'd given her other ones.

Letha regards her for a moment, mulling over this new information. The name 'Persephone' means nothing to her - it does sound like a lovely name, a Regis name. And while names like Hera and Pherenike are common in her family, the origins have been lost after decades of seclusion and xenophobia.

"That's quite a title. Are you a witch?" That's an innocent enough question, said in passing while she feels for whatever just entered her hair and blinks in surprise. "I'm Lady Letha Regis of Thornwell. I have no titles of importance, but I suppose by now everyone knows me as the girl who speaks about the dead."

Meanwhile, having been disturbed by the arrival of that rose, her crow has started cawing indignantly. Without even breaking her attention, Letha reaches up to scratch the top of the skull in her hair until he quiets down.

Ubbe glances over her work and he smiles slightly at the work. He can't imagine having the patience to create something like that. It always seemed so time consuming even when Athelstan would draw in his journal, or when he would write. Ubbe would pester him for stories and the like.

"Gyda is interested in something like that?" he questions, having not really thought of his half-sister having some interest in creating something like a business with anyone much less for that. It seems to suit her now that he thinks of it, though.

"I can do that, too, with the right tools." But it wasn't something inherent to all Atlanteans, which is why he hadn't mentioned it. "And most of the humans don't really get it anyway, so they're forgiven."

He shakes his head. "Not many people believe Atlantis is real. All they know is I can breathe underwater and talk to fish."

He laughs, though, clapping Tommy on the shoulder. "You keep tellin' yourself that, short stuff."

"That seems like a wasteful way to approach things," Ubbe says. It seems to be the worst of both worlds and the best of none to him. He couldn't say that he understood the logic of it at all. "With the Saxons, there is a lot of distrust but both sides have betrayed each other but we've now proven to one another at least certain factions can be trusted."

King Alfred can trust Ubbe and the Danes but if Ivar's heathen army came King Alfred could not trust them as Ubbe couldn't trust the other kingdoms of England.

"I see," Ubbe says and he supposes that people must have to keep going at all.

Seriously? Short stuff? Tommy glares briefly at all of that. Considers and discards a lot of things. Including throwing Arthur for the unwelcome touch. And instead he just shakes his head.

“Yeah, Things got complicated with Atlantis back home. Anyway, you cool with this team plan? We might not be a balanced team, but it is a good idea.”

Because otherwise he could be so bored.

Her smile widened as her head bobbed in a delicate nod. "Yes. She told me that she knew hot to sew a little too and we began talking and... we thought it would be a good idea. It isn't exactly a business yet. I'm not sure what that entails but I'm learning as I go." She placed her pencil down and looked at the sketch. It was a lovely drawing though she'd never considered herself an artist.

"Do you know Gyda well? I admit, we haven't spoken too much and when we do its usually about clothes." They skipped some of the getting-to-know-you conversations.

She looked up at Simon with a sweet smile. "Then we'll just try little tastes and I can finish anything that you don't want or like." She didn't technically need to eat but it was something that she enjoyed. Tastes were like experiences and she wanted to experience everything the world had to offer.

She did place a few small deserts on his plate but otherwise let him choose whatever he preferred. "Simon. I admit, that I have more reasons for wanting to learn about the foods you like." Her gaze met his and her smile pulled into a shy flush. "You see, I've been trying to make food for us both-" Also for Jack and others friends. "But I don't know what you like and I'd like to make things you'll enjoy."

It was also why she cleaned their dome as often as she did. Simon had let her stay with him and she wanted to make it up to him somehow.

"It sounds enchanting." There was nothing like the fruit of the vine in her world nor on the Earth that she knew but she didn't doubt its existence. She had the sweet taste of the liquor on her lips and even now she felt its lingering taste on the tip of her tongue. "I think I like it." She sounded surprised, as if this had never happened before.

Her fingers brushed across her lips as her confused stare turned into a warm welcoming smile. "It's nice to meet you Persephone. I have been here for a short while. I wasn't given a name where I'm from but Seregil calls me Inësa while others here call me Angel."

She always felt as if she had to explain the origin of her name.

"I think Atlantis exists to be complicated for 'surface-dwellers'," a subtle emphasis on the last suggests he doesn't agree with the derision with which it's usually stated

"Sure, kid. What makes you think we're not balanced? I've worked with a pretty fast guy before."

“I mean we might be too amazing for other people to compete with.”

Still it’s interesting. The fact that he wasn’t entirely dismissive of surface-dwellers is interesting.

“You know a speedster?”

The lady that's beside him seems a bit fancy. There's something vague about her that reminds him of both Annie and Beth, which isn't exactly a comforting combination by any stretch of the imagination. There's an amused look, as he caught her movements and then a raised brow at the offered flask.

He shrugs and takes it without a word before taking a sip. Well, it's better than what's been passed around here thus far.

"You got some secret stash in this place, huh?"

Simon looks at her briefly before he looks back at the lights. He thinks about it. Because in his head he'd certainly always imagined them. But he supposes that seeing them that is better.

"Yes," he answers. "My imagination never was that good."

"Everyone has something they're good at. Some of these people might surprise you."

And there wasn't a hint of arrogance in his voice when he said that. He meant every word of it.

"Yeah," he nodded along with his response. "Barry Allen. Heard of him?"

Edited (that improper word use was painful) 2019-05-19 16:52 (UTC)

“Dude, surprises are about standard in my line of work. Not that I don’t run into a lot of humans too. I mean, my main crew involves a super-strong, shapeshifting alien, a witch who can change reality, an Olympic skilled archer, and some change up team. So I get strange. I just tend I be fast enough to dodge most surprises.”

Still, he appreciates the heads up. Though he is left considering the name for a while before shaking his head. Never heard a name like that. But two first names? Sounds like a video game hero.

Ubbe tilts his head in thought and makes a quiet sound that's an indication that he'd heard and understood but he didn't have anything to add. That's the thing about him, he won't say anything if it doesn't need to be said most of the time. Back home, most people were rather good at reading his body language and the like which he used instead of words quite often.

"She is my sister," he said, half sister to be fair, older but dead before he was born.

His silence wasn't unsettling, she watched his gaze and he looked as if he understood. She was very slowly getting better at reading people. It was a process but living in the sphere with so many different people helped.

Her lips tugged into a bright smile. "She is! That's wonderful." She hadn't realized that Gyda had family here but she was glad. "Sorry. I had a sister but we aren't on good terms. I'm glad that you and Gyda are here together." And they seem to like each other.

"I guess that's the best you could hope for. I remember learning about your culture a little when I was a girl. It's very interesting to meet you here, like this." She smiles and extends a hand for a handshake.

"I'm Carol. And you are?"

"Yeah it is. Gotta be." There may have been a little bit of a bitter note in those words-- Hades has his hundreds of year old whiskey and this is what Persephone has. Gotta be to get her through those long winters down below. For a moment, concern just flashes across her face, and the dark eyes in it seem so much older. They're infinitely older for a woman who most of the world would consider to be nothing more than a mere scrap o'spring and not someone who'd been around before em and would be around after em.

Persephone takes a sip from her flask before tucking it back into the bodice of her dress once more. It's an almost reflex action at this point, even if she's not in the Underworld, or up top. "Persephone." There's a weight to her name because she expects everyone to know what it is, it's that easy for her. "Nice to meetcha."

Persephone's response to being called a witch is easy: it's a snorted laugh and a quick retort: "I suppose that depends on who you ask and when you're doing the asking. But in general, no I ain't no witch. I'm a goddess. I bring the Spring to Earth and am the Queen of the Underworld." Duel roles for her of course, and she notices the crow and chuckles softly. "Oh be quiet, you. Ain't nothing for you to go and be all loud about." In response, Persephone repeats the gesture, creating a little crown of flowers for the crow as well, just to match it's owner.

It's cute and makes Persephone smile more.

"So, you can talk to the dead, huh?" It's clearly not a surprise to her, in the slightest, and instead Persephone just tips her head to one side, the Earth-colored eyes watching the blue ones of the girl before her. "Must be hard to do when they're ain't no dead here other than the ghost tied to the living woman."

For a moment, the Goddess just studies the girl. Like knows like, and it's easy to sense the divine on this girl in front of her, even if she don't got wings like one might have expected. Magic is swirling in her, and she just nods sagely for a moment, considering the fact of the names. In the end, Persephone just settles her head to one side, those dark eyes on the girl's blue ones. "So, which one do ya prefer then? Considering it's your name and you get to be the one choosing it."

It seems a simple and straightforward question for her to ask of the girl in front of her, her blood teaming with the mark of the celestials. There's something of her that reminds her of the Fates but lighter, and with better meanin' intentions. (The Fates ain't ever had good intentions in Persephone's experience, especially lately with what they helped her husband do to that girl.)

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