=> [MINI-META]The North Outgrowth

[Hivestuck]

You are now in the north outgrowth of a giant hive, situated in the most expensive land-dwelling part of Civisect City. The first room you arrive at is the dining block.

North Outgrowth Locations

Dining Block:
The Dining Block looks worse for wear. Guests have spilled their food, leapt from their seats and generally caused an uproar since the demise of Epratt and the sudden appearance of the mutantbloods at the party. While Epratt's body was immediately carted off to be looked after in the second story, the rest of the scene was relatively untouched. Epratt's seat stands askew and haunting where he sat in his final moments. A few trolls attempted to tidy and investigate, but overall the table is a complete mess. The tablecloth has been crumpled and slung across the plane hap-hazardly. Underneath the seating there are is a unique mess on the floor. Glassware is everywhere, sparkling in the light cast through the window. The curtains seem to be disturbed and a newly opened window brings much needed fresh air into the room - if not a chilling breeze.

Masks and coats have been discarded. The sideboard contains some interesting pieces. The coats and attire of many of the guests are hanging on a hook or dropped carelessly on the sideboard.

There are currently no guests in this block.



Nutrition Block:
Upon entering the Nutrition Block, you're taken aback by how clean and tidy it is. There are some fresh scents from hive servants, but an effort has been made to keep the area fresh for potential guests milling about during the event. There is a large two-doored thermal hull against the wall next to the spotless counter and an impressive knife block. The sink sits under a window with filmy drapes filtering the light of the evening - it is a stainless steel sink and matches the hull, very large and with a garbage disposal and hot water tap. Tucked away there is a separate trash compactor, an oven below the counter, and other appliances line the counter tops. The elegant room's dark slate floors are well maintained. Cupboards and drawers are aplenty, with a few rotating shelves and spice racks for the more elegantly motivated chef.

There are currently no guests in this block.

Exit:
You are welcome to investigate freely in the North Outgrowth during this time. To travel to the Central Hivestem, simply walk south. Keep going and you will reach the South Outgrowth, which contains the Ball Block and the Trophy Block. Walk south and then west to visit the West Outgrowth; the Library and Basement make up this area. Walking south and then east will bring you to the East Outgrowth, which consists of the Armory and the Training Block. Note that if you would like to visit a different outgrowth before the end of the second hour, you will lose one of your daily investigations due to lost time and subtlety. Visiting the Central Hivestem will not use up any investigations.

Current North Outgrowth Activities

It is now the end of the party!
Your trolls have half an hour or so to get themselves organized before the trial begins!
Trial will begin on the evening reset of the 26th.

How to Play:

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Welcome to a fun and exciting impromptu royal investigation! This is a RP-based event with simple mechanics, subterfuge, suaveness and no swamps whatsoever.

The investigation period takes place over periods known as “party hours”. Party hours refer to in-game time, not real-time. One “party hour” will take up a period of 3 (real-life) days. The end of each party hour will be clearly posted by the mule. At the end of each "party hour" all trolls will automatically regroup in the Central Hivestem and choose where to go from there.

Each day, your troll has the opportunity to investigate the murder and the suspicious characters of the party! They can do so through sleuthing via exploring locations and questioning suspects. Any time you do one of these things, it’s called an “investigation”. You have 3 investigations maximum per (real-time) day. These investigations will be refreshed daily by the mule. Investigations can’t be used retroactively, and can’t carry through if you don’t use them one day!

At the beginning of a party hour, your troll starts in the Central Hivestem. You can decide which outgrowth your troll decides to search – the North, South, East, or West Outgrowth. During each party hour you may freely enter and exit rooms as desired, so long as you are in the same Outgrowth. If you want to change Outgrowths, you will have to give up an investigation. However, at the start of a new party hour your troll returns to the Central Hivestem and may switch wings without penalty!

In the description of a room, you might see bolded text. Any bolded object can be investigated! If it is bolded in one party hour and then the next party hour it is not bolded, you cannot investigate it that party hour.

When you’d like to use your investigation on a bolded object or sub-location in a room, please write 100 words minimum of flavor text of your character interacting with said bolded item and quote the mule. (If you want to investigate multiple clues in one post, increase the wordcount by 100 for each clue.) If the result of the investigation yields a red exclamation mark like this: [!] then that means that you’ve found a distinctive clue! To claim your clues, visit the Central Hivestem and follow the instructions re: quiet review. There are mysteries aplenty, so sorting out the information is all about logic.

Some items found during investigation are unique, which means that if you find it first, congratulations! You are the only person who holds the information. In order to exchange clues or items that contain clues, trolls must do so in-character (the Central Hivestem is a prime place to do so). Even if you, the player, know of a clue that may exist, your character should not if they have no reason to. Be careful - prematurely calling out other guests may have negative side effects for your character or others in the hive if overheard, and subtlety and strategy is recommended.

RP is strongly encouraged during this meta! Strong RP going beyond the game mechanics will be rewarded. Due to busy staff schedules, please assume that the NPCs are not able to be interacted with outside of the investigation questions during this time. If you have a very special case and would like to interact with an NPC, please let us know privately.

Hour 1's opening post:

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As you're lead into the grand dining block, you see there are already quite a few guests. Contrary to expectations, the event doesn't seem to be exclusively - or even heavily biased, towards highbloods. Faint strings of music are piped in through ornate speakers set up around the room, though the babble of conversation rises over and mostly drowns it out. Serving drones glide to and fro, carrying plates of expensive looking appetizers, and tall glasses of drink - with more resting on the sideboards for the shyer or more direct trolls. Standing slightly apart from the main guests is a group of seven adults not wearing masks, whose blood colours match up with the accessories scattered around on the head table. A few of the faces might be familiar to trolls via television, popular culture, personal interest, or simple recognition of a familiar face.

A large, squat, intense looking purpleblood in loose white clothing and the facepaint of a member of the Cult of the Mirthful Messiahs is recognizable as the Cultural Attache of Juggalo-related Propaganda and Spiritualism, Deburu Comedi. A self-made troll with a self-made title, Comedi first gained recognition due to his services in promoting Juggalo culture during his time in the army. On his retirement, he became the presenter for a short-lived television program for wigglers. Mirthtime failed to attract viewers of the non-Juggalo persuasion and subsequently went off the air - but Comedi himself stayed active and moved into the political scene.

Chatting animatedly with Comedi is a delicate and foppish troll also decked out in purple - though with a less recognizable face. Gerard Rutven holds the little known title of Civisect Housing Coordination Commissioner - though trolls who follow the socialite circles of Alternia will recognize him as a regular thrower of lavish and exclusive parties. While his history before arriving in Civisect is not known, it hasn't stopped gossipmongers from filling his past with all sorts of pump-biscuit throbbing adventures and scandals.

Sandwiched between the two trolls but stolidly refusing to enter into the conversation is a blank-faced blueblood, looking slightly haggard, in official military dress. Arms crossed, standing straight, and staring off into the distance, Mapuye Puchen's reputation would be well known to any troll who took an interest in the Alternian military, or indeed the recent history surrounding Civisect City. More than a few guests are throwing confused looks her way - while once a decorated military commander, her current standing in military society is anything but. The last official reports of her confirm that she was stripped of her rank and shipped off to an unknown location, due to her spear-heading the military disaster of Old Hemsiect a half-dozen sweeps ago.

Not the only troll in full military display, one of the two other adults who stand a few steps away is also decked out in military wear. The redblood's hue is a few notches up from the bottom of the barrel, but she stands with an aggressively defiant posture. Slightly stiff and out of place, she matches any judging gazes with a sure posture and hard stare from her one good eye. A troll who's face would only be known to army buffs and lowblood rights enthusiasts, Shishi Schrad is the army's golden girl for their lowblood recruitment campaign. She had, as the propaganda novellas recount, survived countless space scouting missions - outlasting all her 'superior' highblood crewmates. Recalled back to Alternia before the Vast Glub, she now trains new recruits - and is known more commonly as "Sir".

In sharp contrast, Schrad's conversational partner is sporting a snappy, well tailored suit. Tall and lanky, the orangeblood sports slicked back hair and a well-kept beard, along with various piercings and a false gold canine. Unlike the rest of the adults in the small gathering, this troll's identity will baffle even the most politically-savvy of observers. In fact - only trolls who were present the night of the recent Four Fronds spaceship impact will recognize Tigwyn Ioyana, one of the surviving crew members of the last spaceship to return to Alternia. Twirling an unlit cigarette between scarred fingers and watching the new guests arrive, he listens noncommittally to his companion's murmured conversation.

The last two trolls in the group of seven are the loudest, simply due to the first of the two. An aged, pompous looking seadweller, he has no seeming concept of volume control and barks out his responses in the tones of someone used to shouting over the sound of combat. Unlike the star-studded cast of socialites around him, the seadweller's face is unknown simply due to the fact that his social circle is miles above even this crowd, and he most likely never had to hold down any sort of job that would bring him into the public's eye. However, a dedicated student of the noble-finned elite could possibly hazard the guess that Epratt Kewrei was the name to go with the face - a typical enough seadweller with a voracious passion for big game hunting.

Despite the volume control of their partner, the final adult in the group seems to be chatting away sociably enough, and barely flinches when the foghorn in front of them blares. Attracting more than a few looks, the beautiful greenblood has an exquisitely pitiable face, a huge mane of flowing wavy hair, and a rich, deep, melodic voice. A regular face on the television and a constant voice on the radio, this troll is immediately identifiable as Erilyn Awassi, the diva of Civisect, media darling, and regular chart topper with their constant soulful yet catchy hits. They are, in fact, the owner of the current hive that the party is being held in, and feature in many of the paintings that lined the entrance way of the building.

 

[T-Kai]

Aconan wasn't use to being nervous. It just...wasn't her thing. But tonight. Tonight oh, tonight was making her very nervous indeed. Partially this was to do with her outfit. Aconan had dumped her usual outfit (we say dumped. It was more like folded carefully and lovingly.) back at her hive and changed into something more formal. Admittedly, this had been a challenge. Aconan's wardrobe was far more slanted towards practical than pretty, and Loupsus had been rather unhelpful. But then, Aconan considered, he didn't wear clothes. Well. Tonight he was wearing accessories! And he'd been brushed and washed and basically preened until he was without a doubt the BEST looking lusus there. As well as just the BEST in general. Loupsus was the BEST. The ribbon and tag he'd been festooned with even matched Aconan's sash and own ribbon. Which well, was to be expected considering they'd been made from the same bolt of not-really-silk.

Aconan could have afforded silk with the money she'd been granted from aiding the military, but she was saving those beetles in her sniper-rifle fund. She had spent a little on dye and fabric paint though - you see, Aconan's formal outfit had mostly been scrounged and altered, so hadn't been originally in her colours. The outfit was nice but Aconan missed her tail. Admittedly she'd fought with herself and ended up accessorising the sash with a tiny cub-paw dyed in horn colours so she felt more comfortable and advertised her potential hunterrorist status, but that was the only concession she had made to herself - the rest of the outfit was formal and perfectly in line.

A black skirt, green tights and shiny black shoes. A black vest top, styled more formally than a tank top with wide shoulders and high neckline, with her symbol prominently displayed. A sash in exactly her blood hue, tied and cut so it draped prettily at the back without interfering with movement or potentially tripping people up. The offcut from the sash tied in a pretty ribbon around her left wrist and adapted to trim the relatively simple mask. And of course, the BEST bit of the outfit - Aconan had managed, in her excursions around the mountain, to find an old military jacket!!! It was SIMPLY THE BEST!! And, as a bonus, it had belonged to a tealblood, so Aconan had only had to repeatedly dye yellow over the top instead of bleaching it first and risk damaging the black fabric. Some of the detailing had to have been replaced of course, and Aconan had attached one of the embroidered patches of her symbol that she owned to the back and the front breast pocket. Admittedly, it was slightly too big, but Aconan would grow into it, and anyway, it looked good.

....right?

Anyway, Aconan adjusted the jacket and entered folliwng the drone. Scanning the mostly empty room, she couldn't help but have her jaw drop. Surely not. It couldn't be. Was that.....was that....it was. Wow. Aconan's cheeks flushed with green as she saw one of her heroes in the flesh. Shishi Schrad. Aconan had watched every single one of her recruitment tapes multiple times, and also read the novellas - she didn't quite own the whole set, but she was getting there. Unable to resist, Aconan drifted across the main room closer to the celebrities, Loupsus padding along with his charge obediently.

Of course, some of this was an act. Aconan did consider Sir one of her heroes, but there was an ulterior motive to her movements - and indeed a careful observer could notice she kept to the left slightly, so she could overhear Rutven's conversation. She didn't know the Commissioner personally, and would frankly have had no idea who he was if she hadn't been assigned a SECRET MISSION to learn about him. For Queen and Alternia, Aconan was determined to find out as much as possible about him.  

[Gl!tch~]

After being, what was the word? Decommissioned? Something more professional than let down after her involvement pushing back the rebels, Hemera had found herself in an odd situation in Four Fronds. Slightly displaced, but only temporarily. Pagoni had quite a fit about being barred from going home, but the quarters Mera and her lusus had been given was rather comfortable. Yes, her own home was more pleasant all around. That was sort of the point, but even in this tiny space, she enjoyed the thoughtfulness of it. Also a drone on hand was an unexpected sort of pampering she wasn't used to. Is this what highblooded life was like? So much made sense after just that short stint.
And then before she knew it, life was back to normal. Or normal as it could be, considering. Four Fronds had burned. A space ship powered by trollkind crashed into the planet. The rebellion had run off into an uncivilized part of Alternia. A place that seemed wrong. Perhaps the planet itself would wipe them all out. How righteous an end.

All of that took a back seat to the envelope she had received. An invitation. An event. Something fancy. Her pumpbiscuit fluttered the moment she first read it. By the fifth time she looked over it in a row, Hemera was about to pass out from it all. Up until now, she had been a spectator. Even when she thought she could take part of ground-breaking events...well...the results were less than stellar on her part.

But, really, how many trolls could have been invited to this gala? Only trolls of worth would be allowed in. She was sure of it! Oh, and what to wear? And she would have to do something with her hair. And a mask! So much to do, so many references she would have to find. First she tried to track down the tailor she had been to before. Mera had even ventured all the way to NHC, and could swear she ended up at the right storefront, but the shop was clearly abandoned. Odd. Disappointing. All she could do at this point was look somewhere else.

All things considered, Hemera believed she had succeeded in her efforts. A nice dress in her blood color, complementing shoes, a lacework jacket she could either wear in full, on her shoulders, and still look great. Or she could just shed it for the time being. She had made sure her mask was themed around her lusus, albeit subtly; it looked more like a mask with lacquered designs inspired by Pagoni's tail feathers. The white down tinged with teal. The mask itself was black, and so the other colors popped out more.

If the event had not been a masquerade, she would have fussed over her eyewear. Here, it would be silly to layer her mask with glasses at all. She went without, instead having lenses in the mask eyeholes so she would still be able to see.

The only unfortunate addition to this whole ensemble was Pagoni himself, who would drip everywhere. However, she was in no position to leave him at home. Perhaps at the very least he would let her wander on her own some and deal with less humility down the line than expected.

Biting it down for now, she walked in. Looking around, she had a new prime directive. Try not to explode. She gazed upon every little aspect she could find around her. Marvelous!

Coming into the dining block, her suspicions seemed to be confirmed; the adults there seemed important, and fortunately, a chunk she knew of. Including Tigwyn, who she could outright recognize. Speaking of recognize, why weren't any of them wearing masks? Absolutely curious....  

[blackbird cake]

To say she was simply excited would be an absolute understatement. Elidae felt intoxicated by euphoria. For the time before the night of the Royal Gala, a magnet held the elegant invitation on the thermal hull as both an accomplishment and a constant reminder for both her and Ladydad. She looked forward to the event every night, dreaming about all the different trolls she would meet and outfits she would see and what kind of events were in store for her. In the early evening the night of, Ladydad made certain she understood the significance of the opportunity and should be ever so grateful for the generous allowance of being present at such an event, priming her up to look and be the best she could possibly be. Clearly, she had done something right to get on the good graces of the Empire. Ladydad fretted over the thought of her running loose around a large group of trolls in masks, of all things, however he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with pride and joy for his precious charge and her loyalty, believing she was deserving of a nice night out to enjoy herself. She looked pretty darn cute, too, if he said so himself.

Frilly and fun, Elidae presented herself in what she considered appropriate attire: a dark grey, knee-length dress with a sweetheart neckline and black petticoat underneath (for extra floof), ruffled black gloves and socks, and a pair of polished mary-janes in her blood hue. Of course, a masked gala wouldn't be right without the... y'know, mask. Simple but stylish, a black satin mask framed her eyes with a black polka-dot patterned birdcage veil falling over and obscuring half her face. As always, being a wardrobe staple for Elidae, she wore her classic yellow polka-dot bow, hair styled in a large bun, stray hairs clipped out of sight. In her hand were a few picked flowers from a nearby Civisect garden that earned her a good scolding from her accompanying lusus for taking what wasn't hers, but oh my gosh they were just so pretty, she had to.

Arriving exactly on time, speechless, her attention flickered all around her as she entered the dining block, overwhelmed by the grandeur and luxury of the hive. Never in her life had she been so close to such magnificence. Pump biscuit bursting with excitement, she practically skipped around looking for someone she may recognize (or someone interesting enough to say hello to), weaving her way and wanting to take in everything and everyone with a few "Oop, sorry!" "Excuse me!" "My bad!" squeaked, her lusus fluttering behind her mumbling something about manners. To her side, she noticed a group of adults set to the side apart from everyone else with a sort of significant air about them, but what was really peculiar was the lack of masks. It was strange, but Elidae didn't really put any mind to it; was probably got a reason! Most of the figures there she recognized, especially the diva themselves! Squinting to focus on the orangeblood adult, Elidae mused over the strange feeling of seeing his face before, somewhere, but couldn't quite put a name or event to it. Perhaps she could find out? She bounded up to him, bunching up some of her skirt in her free hand to make room for her little legs to go go go.

"Excuse me, hi! I-" 'Elidae! That’s no way to speak to an adult. Be polite.' Her lusus interjected, shooting her a stern look. Elidae gasped. "Oh gosh, right, right, I’m sorry! Where are my manners?" Hello, pleasure to be of acquaintance? Is that right? My name is Elidae Bonbon!" With less grace than a hoofbeast on ice, the little yellowblood took hold of one side of the edge of her skirt, fanning it out and bending her knees in an attempt to curtsy while beaming up at him, wobbling a bit when she stood upright. "You look very nice tonight, sir. Also I really like your toof! Kinda matches my shoes!" Giggling, she put one foot out from underneath the fluff of her dress, displaying her polished and shiny gold footwear. After a moment, she held out one of the flowers to him with a coy smile between her gold flushed cheeks, batting her eyelashes from behind her veil. "I found this outside and I think it would really go really well with your suit."


Hivestuck

 

[Melancholies]

Sarcel hadn't seen something so luxurious in quite some time.

Perhaps it was a bit unusual for a highblood to know primarily modesty, but Sarcel didn't see it as a bad thing by any means. It was important for someone of high stature to understand their commonfolk, right? Besides, Sarcel couldn't even fathom this sort of lifestyle, not on a night to night basis. It seemed like it would get almost tiresome after a while, having trolls wait on your every need, living in a space far too large for any single being. Of course, she was sure whoever owned the establishment was far from complaining about it. Sure beat living in fear.

To each their own, after all. There had been a lot on Sarcel's mind; the past few weeks had been anything but peaceful, and even after the immediate stress of the swamp incident wore off, it was hard to call the downtime quaint. No, there was very little solace found in the sudden lull for the blueblood. She found herself antsy, but when wasn't she? Part of her almost wanted to opt out of the invitation, but who was she to reject the queen? At least, the script was fancy enough and the color clearly distinguishable. It would be an insult not to go, right? She was a highblood! She was supposed to attend these things, partake in these fancy-do's. It was common. It would be a learning experience, if nothing else.

And, maybe, a more selfish part of her hoped it might... be relaxing, in a way. She could indulge. She felt guilty; attending some extravagant festivities while certain individuals were out there risking their lives... That's just how it was. This was a reward for her loyalty. It felt absolutely bizarre to get gussed up (something she'd honestly never done), but it was nice too. Her outfit was uniform. Plain compared to some of the others present, but elegant. It got the point across. A blueblood should be authoritative, and what better respect was there than to reflect her own service? She felt proud wearing her military garb. For once, blue felt good. Sarcel was nervous to be sure, but this would be a chance to get a foot in the door, start a reputation. Sarcel Cincil didn't have to be a coward.

The mask helped too. Sarcel wouldn't admit that it was something of a security blanket, but having her face obscured made her... feel safer in a way, yeah. She found a small, bolstering courage in that. Sarcel couldn't help but smile at the thought. As she made her way down the hallway, she found herself staring at the numerous paintings on the wall. So pretty...

"O-Oh for—Mother!"

Of course, the oddest thing about Sarcel wasn't her newfound confidence, nor was it even the unusually fancy garb. The extraordinarily poofy creature, barking and chittering as it charged off of Sarcel's shoulder, was in fact her lusus. The two were never that close; their relationship purely business, and even Sarcel resented chinchillamom for some of her... over the top tendencies. Yet, something seemed to have gotten into the creature, ever since she returned from the swamp. Maybe her maternal clock just had a late start. Maybe their last confrontation drove something home. Sarcel could never really tell with her lusus; reading the needy creature was hard. Huffing out a bark, the lusus scuttled her way back up Sarcel's leg, having regret her decision to jump onto the "dirty" floor.

"Honestly, i-it's not that bad..." Sarcel offered to the creature as she resettled, sighing a little. She wasn't about to argue—the attention was nice—but also unnerving. "You d-didn't have to come... r-remember why we're here..."

Impressions to make. Sarcel was intent on her goal. A few more steps brought into the grand dining block, and her eyes lit up immediately. It was gorgeous. The blueblood immediately did a fast sweep over the present group with her eyes, not recognizing many, not taking the time to really focus in on each troll—oh my GOSH was that Sir? Sarcel's eyes were already glittering, but they still somehow managed to get brighter. She brought a gloved hand to cover her mouth, ignoring the warmth that crept into her cheeks. Well, it wasn't necessarily Her Sir, just... Sir Sir, but even still. She was the first contact with training that she had from an official! She could remember that night like it was yesterday. As awful as it was, she was the one who was trusted with that plant, her! She had been an asset. Sir had facilitated that. There were so many remarkable things about her that rang impressive, from the hue of her blood and the status of her military position. She was a valuable inspiration, even if Sarcel wasn't a lowblood herself.

Deep breaths, Cincil. Despite the urge to go over and gush, Sarcel hung back, mostly intimidated by the swath of other important looking trolls she saw lingering near by. Their faces were definitely familiar—most of them anyway—from local media, even if she didn't know most of them by name, at least ones that weren't military affiliated. Damn it all. Sarcel found herself hugging against the wall rather than voyaging towards the center. She would mingle, she would, just... in five minutes, maybe. She'd probably never get a chance like this again! Ah... but she needed to work up her nerve first. Chinchillamom curled around her neck like a limp noodle, a would be perfect compliment to Sarcel's ensemble had she not been very much alive and still breathing.

ALL AND ANYONE

FEEL FREE TO INTERACT WITH THIS AWKWARD CHILD

 

[Hivestuck]

Erilyn Awassi

Finally managing to excuse themselves from the seadweller's conversation, the greenblood now recognisable as Erilyn Awassi drifted over to the podium with the microphone. Stepping up onto it, they grasped the mic comfortably in one hand pulling it from it's resting slot, and waited politely for the conversation in the room to ebb. With a practised, glowing 'media' smile, they finally step forward and raise one hand in the air, microphone cord looped around their thumb to avoid any nasty tripping. Nodding to a unseen watcher to the back of the room, they smiled widely as the lights of the room dipped lower. Awassi's deep voice was soothing and warm when they spoke, and they took the time to look around the room, making eye contact with every guest who looked their way.

"Before we begin, allow me to say thank you to all of you. I am so glad that each and every one here tonight was able to come. I'd also like to express my gratitude towards our delightfully generous empress for allowing me to host this soiree of hers. For all of you who are wondering if she'll be here tonight, I can confirm that she will be arriving shortly. It's called being fashionably late, darlings, and I'd be doing it myself if this wasn't my own hive. While we are still waiting for the truly trendy crowd to arrive - I'd like to start things off with an idea of what to expect tonight. Unfortunately, I'm afraid we'll be making sure our events do start and end at the proper times, as we ourselves are remarkable squares."

Adjusting their shawl, they flipped the microphone to their other hand with a wry smile, nodding at any laughter their comments caused. Turning slightly and bending to receive a small card passed by a drone, their 'thank you, darling' was quiet and directed to the drone rather than to the audience. Inspecting the card and giving a small nod of approval, Erilyn turned back to address the rest of the trolls. "You'll have to forgive me, I can't seem to remember the set up of my own event. I say, this is harder than it looks isn't it? I do hope I don't get in trouble." A small laugh at their own self-depreciating joke was echoed among trolls in the crowd, including Rutven and Comedi.

"We'll be starting off with ah - yes this lovely little meet and greet. This will last for an hour to ensure everyone's arrived, but I think we can spice things up a little while we wait? Mmm. Perhaps a bit later. At the start of the second hour we will be having a small dinner, to ensure no one's hungry from their long trips over. Hmm - perhaps someone can suggest her majesty's next fundraiser is for some sort of shuttle service? She does seem to love raising beetles for something or another." Hesitating slightly, the troll shook their head and gave the audience an apologetic laugh.

"Oh dear, sorry darlings, I'm too hungry to think straight. After the dinner we'll be moving into the ball block where the silent auction items will be on display. I believe there will then be a performance from our charming guest Deburu Comedi and his ah, 'Band of Mirthful Messangers' that will take up the remainder of the second hour. Afterwards, the hive will be open for the third hour, where there are a variety of activities scheduled for each block. There will be a nice little time table set up in the rumpus block for everyone to peruse, so don't worry about missing out on anything, darlings. The first half of the fourth hour, I have been requested to put on a little show myself in the ball block - and then we'll wrap up the evening with the silent auction in the same room."

Lifting the card up to their brow in an exaggerated expression of exhaustion, Awassi gave a little sigh and shake of their head. "Too much to remember I'm sure! We'll have plenty of announcements each hour - so don't worry about keeping all of that in your heads. Now I'd best be getting back to Kewrei before he starts to think I'm snubbing him, and darlings, that would never do." Giving another thousand-beetle smile that ended up facing back in the direction of their conversational partner, Erilyn threw one last nod to the audience, slotted the microphone back into it's stand, and stepped off the stage. On queue, the lights rose up again and conversation in the hall resumed.  

[Ancient_Guardian]

Ҕᾁʐɱᾁʂ Ҏӫςɧῒɱ


Cool winds whistled about the young green blood, catching the hems of his tailored duster-themed jacket as his winged lusus circled lazily down toward the lawn ring of the luxurious hive. At any other event, Hazmas probably would've worn his usual jacket, but tonight was something special. Truth be told, the little troll actually enjoyed dressing in such niceties and was more than excited when the gala invitation arrived. Since then, he'd spent quite a bit of time and beetles preparing his almost elegant -if not slightly archaic- gala attire.

A long jacket with the exaggerated cuffs and collar flaps had taken the place of his favorite duster jacket, its dark colors complimenting his lighter breeches and waistcoat hemmed with the same shades of the jacket. All three pieces were accented with gem clasps and buttons of his own blood color. In place of his steel-toed boots, Hazmas had donned knee-length boots whose cuffs were almost as lengthy as his jacket sleeves. But the real master piece was the long mask upon his face. Originally the skull of a graceful hoof-beast, Hazmas had worked and shaped the thing until it was smooth to the touch and light enough to be worn with ease. With the addition of a gear toothed trim adorned with glass beads that matched his gem clasps, and his symbol proudly embossed on its front, the young troll couldn't help but glow with pride as Machim alighted on the green.

Careful not to crease his clothes, he slid off his lusus's back and onto the lawn, the exaggerated cuffs of his boots boots flapping gently with his jacket. He paused to adjust his waistcoat and silken cravat, ensuring that it was both comfortable and regal-looking, and slid his mask back over his face. He grinned and gave Machim an affectionate pat and was just about to speak when he heard a voice over the hive speakers. He furrowed his brow and blanched as a realization dawned on him.

"BLITHEY MOTHER GRUB WE'RE LATE!" he shouted and dashed toward into the hall.
 

[Micillia]

Chiara Moteku
xxxxxArriving
Chiara had agreed to meet with her secret admirer at the hive the ball was being held at. He would probably be late, it seemed the thing most trolls did, so she arrived early and decided to scope out the place first. Her dress was in pristine condition and she rearranged the seashell folds one last time for good measure. The blueblood opened the door to hear the tail end of some speech. Chiara stepped inside the hive, gave her guardian a sneer and closed the door on the quill beast. It was best to leave garbage outside. With a sigh Chiara noticed that other trolls had the poor taste of letting their livestock guardians inside.

Chiara sported a mask with what appeared to be quills from her own guardian attached. Weather they were obtained via force or were freely discarded by her lusus is a mystery. She let out a sigh as she scoped the crowd. Lots of work to do, all these trolls to meet, or re-introduce herself to. Impressions to make, names to forget, memories to force others to remember. She recognized the ship captain, remembering him as a grumpy old man.

She also saw something far more interesting; Elidea. The adorably naive troll was just too cute to pass up. She ruffled in her bag, looking at some of the pranks, weapons, and other nick knacks she had brought with her. She rolled onto her heels as she contemplated where to go. So many options.

ImaginationsParadise

<3 sry that took so long smile

blackbird cake

-bother bother-

Quote:

Chiara is open to any and all interaction

 

[ImaginationsParadise]

Eridia entered with her old air of confidence, until she recognized some faces. She didn't realized she was likely to encounter them at all. The highblood's blood pusher raced, so many trolls... She couldn't possibly act like her pompous self. She glanced at Lovedad, who carried her satin shawl, then back to the floor. Calm down, it's all in your head.

She breathed in slowly, absorbing the aroma of the gala. It's expensive scent didn't even filled her damaged air sacs. She tried again, it was the only way to calm down. Yet she started coughing. She forced herself to cough as softly as possible. Not even the hive's decor could possibly take her mind off her troubles. Eridia's hands touched the rim of her dress, a black dress with silver linings and silver quadrants day pattern on its rim. The wounds on her hands were concealed by satin gloves, she also wore thigh high stockings to hide the ones on her legs. She looked splendid, yet the feeling was opposite. At least she had her mask-- it did its job perfectly.

"Why...." She mumbled, thankfully her voice was muffled by the mask. "...because I failed the last time?" She looked over at Chiara, hoping she wasn't embarrassed by her current state. She knew though that, once the mingling started, she'll be back to her old self. Mingling and bullying the weak always got her spirits up. Again, she turned her gaze to her surroundings. Perhaps something would catch her attention.

LOL HI, Micillia

Gonna edit once you post!!!

FEEL FREE TO INTERACT WITH THE BUNDLE OF JOY

ouo b

 

[Sypon]

General Note

As there are no mechanics and post order doesn't matter in this current stage of the meta, there is no need to reserve posts! Reserving can be discouraging to others and makes it tough to post without backreading or editing, and for GMing NPCs as well. If you need to do so you're welcome to but please don't feel pressured! You have lots of time and this is just a regular ORP until at least the 13th. 3nodding

Tamiya was never late. She was always exactly on time – the time she needed to be present. And now was that time. She stepped out of her enclave, waiting in the dining block shadows for her moment to strike. Frankly, the simple (but meandering) directions from the glorious Erilyn Awassi had been enough to allow her some courage to take a quick clipped step forward. She needed all of the courage she should get. First of all, because Sinter was not present. And second but more importantly, the one… The only… Deburu Comedi was here. Tamiya had stars in her eyes. She would have to remove her mask so he could remember her face – her make-up. He was much shorter than he looked on television. Perhaps it was the strange magic work of the Trollian Cameras. Tamiya’s mind was working at a mile per minute. She tapped her metal fingers together against each other, creating an anxious tinny shivering noise as she looked to and fro. The nose of her mask pointed every which way before settling on the table where some of the other guests had discarded their masks. There.

She would return to get it later. Anonymity was not as important as connections, and while the thought of the event was nice it was getting a bit swampy behind the stifling fox mask. She carefully slid the form off of her face, careful to maintain her pristine make-up underneath, and clasped her hands together.

Her façade had come off. Now she really had to go up and talk to him. She looked around. Without a wing-troll Tamiya had no idea how to breach the ring of adults. They were in clusters – military, socialite, and then the host and her conversation partner. She had to find a suitable match for conversing with them!! Who to pick…

Tamiya looked through the available trolls. A greenblood in military garb, a formally-dressed tealblood… There were a great deal of younger trolls here, a few who were familiar to her but who had their own partners to assuage the crowd with. Damn them and there preparedness. Tamiya slid through the room trying to be as inconspicuous as possible – an essentially impossible trait. She had wrapped her horns in black leather straps with bells attached, and had also adorned her outfit with a bell-jacket for good luck. She had swapped out her hakama for a long, formal kimono with her and her moirail’s colors, wearing a Larque-green pendant under her simple black underclothes for good luck. The only thing with added comfort about her appearance was the more practical shoes she wore – lower sandal geta than her typical wedges. The clip clop of her feet, jingling of her bells and constant murmuring were enough to tip off the least observant troll – the fact that she was enormously tall and exceptionally finely dressed was another thing entirely.

Finally, Tamiya spotted a highblood of approximately her age in the crowd. A well dressed blueblood in military attire. She would suit her as enough to get into the crowd, where she assumed she may choose to speak with the others. Acceptable. She would test her mettle.

“You there. Greetings. Have you come sadsuckingly alone and desire precious company? For I have need to esteem myself with other silverlickers at this damned banquet and you appear to be alone. My name is Tamiya Aiguma.”

Tamiya put out her hand for Sarcel. Her sharp metal claws curled in a beckon – it wasn’t clear whether she wanted a handshake or to take Sarcel’s arm in hers, but Tamiya committed to the action with a stony expression.

Melancholies

hello there

 

[zeflamigo]

This party was supposed to be fun, right? It didn't feel like it, Leeroi thought, adjusting his cuffs with discomfort. The dress shirt and vest were so tight and constricting compared to his typical baggy ensemble. The biggest offender, however, had to be his bowtie. Despite Psykgi's adjustments, the tie always felt too tight, choking him slowly (not without the help of his impressive horse mask). He did his best to keep his focus on the party, looking around for objects of interest, but he absentmindedly kept pulling at his cuffs.

It didn't help that he had already lost Psykgi somewhere in the crowd. The little redblood would have brought him comfort, and more importantly, confidence. He didn't really understand what he was doing here, mingling with the fancy folk. It really wasn't his ideal scene.

Still, he couldn't help but keep turning his eye at the table of adults, gaze lingering on the amazing, awe-inspiring Shishi Schrad and the also-amazing-but-probably-not-to-other-trolls Mapuye Puchen. His eyes glistened, shedding a single tear in raw excitement. Without thinking, he reached up to wipe away the tear, only to touch the rubbery exterior of his mask. He laughed at himself, drawing a small notebook and pen from his pocket. He couldn't think of two better trolls to start off his autograph collection.

With one last glance around for Psykgi, Leeroi resolved that he would have to approach this table alone. That was fine, he'd just have to tell Psykgi all about it later. Making his way to the table, he quickly decided who to approach first. Although Shishi was a legend in his eyes, Puchen was closer on his trajectory, and also seemingly less involved in small talk with the other adults. He didn't particularly want to wait for attention, so Puchen was a much better first choice.

Arriving at the table, he adjusted his posture into a more confident stance, clicking his heels together. "Miss Puchen, sir!" He said, saluting the blueblood. Even if she had been stripped of her prior rank, it was the respectable thing to do. "I-I'm a big fan," He sputtered out, fingers dancing over the notebook. He blushed under his mask, thankful that she couldn't see his confidence breaking.

"Would it be alright to ask for your autograph?" He asked, the words falling quickly out of his mouth. He placed the notebook and the pen on the table and adjusted his cuffs, waiting patiently for her response.

Hivestuck

s-senpai

 

[Melancholies]

Alright Cincil, the five minutes were up. She had taken every second to carefully steel herself in preparation for this task, exhumed every fiber of courage deeply rooted in her being. She would only need her legs to move, whisk her forward. Her voice would be steady, perfect. There would be no fear in her eyes. She had to make this impression on point. Chinchillamom was lazily chittering around her neck. Somehow the added presence was almost soothing.

As soon as she took her first step, Sarcel had stopped.

It was difficult to miss. Sarcel wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed before, actually. Out from the shadows rose a highblood of imposing stature, blatantly gowned in vivid purple. Sarcel watched her survey the area, nervous but not deterred. At least, not until their attention was turned to her.

Sarcel immediately glanced to her side, trying desperately to throw the attention. What were the honest chances that the highblood would come socialize with her anyway, right? She didn't know the individual. The individual didn't know her. It was absolutely inane to think she could be the target. Her confidence was less than assured as the jingling of bells drew ever nearer.

By some grace, Sarcel managed not to jump when she was spoken to, eyes wide as she carefully slid her gaze back over, immediately focusing on the purpleblood's face paint, internal fire alarms screeching and blazing in her head. She knew little of juggalo's and their faith. The stream of words that followed Tamiya's interlude only served to confuse her more. She mentally prayed for some sort of intervention from her lusus. Mother remained still.

"I-I uh,"

Sarcel couldn't tear her eyes away from Tamiya's very calm, committed expression. She felt frozen, Bring yourself back together dammit!. A certain gloss returned to her otherwise shell shocked eyes. It was imperative that she made a good impression, and in her mind she was failing fast.

"I-I mean, I beg your p-pardon..." her voice wavered, but she managed a shaky smile, one she hoped would grow more confident over the course of night. Still, it was natural, if not a little weary, "Sarcel Cincil, it's a a-ah, pleasure, Miss Aiguma!" she did well not to stutter the highblood's name.

Sarcel was, however, far less coordinated with her hand as it bumped into Tamiya's clumsily. She silently praised her choice of gloves; though her hand trembled obviously, it at least wouldn't be disgusting and sweaty. Nervousness was an impression she was used to, something she could get away with. She wouldn't let herself be labeled revolting, not by a higher blood than herself. Preferably not by anyone really.

"I would b-be... most honored to b-be in your company." Her voice grew timid, but she was being compliant and agreeable, and that was all that mattered as she shook Tamiya's hand, hoping she had parsed the objective of the purpleblood's words well enough. If her own company was so desired, who was she to argue, especially when she was a subordinate?

Sypon

messiahs protect her

 

[purplerosesbeauty]

Eostre Diazzi had been excited ever since the letter first arrived, inviting her to an exclusive party, held at the hive of one of the most famous trolls on television! This was her element, her favorite thing in the entire galaxy. She immediately went out and ordered new clothes for the event, specifically tailored for her. A lacy, elegant dress, new stockings and gloves embroidered with her symbol, and a fluffy pink fur stole. Her mask covered her horns, and was shaped like a hopbeast, with intricate markings. She looked fabulous and felt beautiful, like always. Eostre knew she would have a wonderful time mingling with the other distinguished guests at the party.

The directions to the hive was easy enough given how large Erilyn's hive was for a greenblood. As a socialite herself, Eostre felt at home and strode inside the hive with confidence, Tierte probably somewhere behind her. "Tierte darling, I assume you can be trusted to behave while you're here, because I won't be wrigglersitting you the whole time like usual. I have important business to attend to, you know," she said to her redblooded companion with a sly grin. Eostre patted Tierte on the head and looked around the room, noting the trolls who were currently mulling around. She could see the adults, who were all fantastic and inspiring, including some of her heroes. Erilyn, who's hive it was, and Gerard Rutven, a famous socialite whose parties she'd always wanted to go to.

Looking back at the trolls more her age, she only saw a few. There were several children... Well, at least her little redblood was neither the only redblood or the only small troll there. But she did see two teenagers. That she knew at that! She would recognize Tamiya anywhere now, with her juggalo make up and elaborate, if bizarre and loud, outfits. And the other troll was from the swamp. But in formal regalia, she looked incredible. Trolls should go to more formal parties, they looked so much better when they were forced into formal wear! She turned to Tierte. "I'll be going now, hopefully I'll see you around the party. Go find someone to talk to or something."

The blueblood sauntered up to Tamiya and Sarcel, grinning her wide crooked smile. Pulling up her fur stole, she placed a gloved hand on her chin. "What a pleasure to see you two here," she said, looking between the two of them. Definitely the last two trolls she thought would hang out together, but they seemed to have just met. Fun! "Tamiya, dear. How is your hand feeling now?" she said, glancing down at her metal claws. Well, they were certainly taken care of now, but the last time she'd seen them, it was wrapped heavily in gauze.

"And Sarcel... you certainly clean up nice," Eostre said, her tone friendly. The last time she'd seen her they were both coated in mud, so the same could probably be said to her. But no matter. In the military uniform she looked lovely. "You two don't mind if I join you, do you?"

Sypon

Here is Eostre, here to bother you ;]

Melancholies

And you too! wink wink

 

[thyPOPE]

Although he slid into the dining block just as Erilyn began to speak, Alifax wasn't particularly bothered about it. He hadn't missed anything important, right? It sure didn't look it - none of the tables were occupied yet, and it looked like most of their guests of honor (they were missing a very notable one, of course) were still socializing. That was well and good - Alifax wasn't particularly inclined to join in on it. He supposed that he should, though, for Frossa. The reason for his untimely arrival was that he'd been spending time observing the paintings in the building's entrance hall. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd been looking for, but he took note of any interesting companions and locations within the paintings regardless, on a piece of paper labeled with Erilyn's name.
He had to say he didn't recognize most of them. Alifax didn't really have any room for celebrities in his admittedly narrow conception of life. At most he'd probably be able to recognize FLARP stars. Well - the two standing stiffly in military dress were certainly recognizable, although he wouldn't have known Schrad from her books, and he honestly had assumed that the former Captain Puchen was dead. It was pretty obvious who the purple clown was; the purpleblood talking to him was a mystery, and so was the orangeblood talking to Sir Schrad. The...seadweller was also completely unfamiliar to him, and the singer greenblood was recognizeable, but only because their address had been printed on the invitation. It looked like he had his work cut out for him.

At least Frossa had made sure he was dressed for the part, kind of. He wasn't the type of troll to wear cosmetics, usually, but she'd gone over the basics of applying lipstick for him (he hadn't been bothered enough to deal with the rest once he'd found out she'd been grounded), and he'd accompanied her to get his nails done with an unnerved stare. Then he'd put on the rest of the costume (because that was what it really was): a frilly shirt whose ruffles and cutesy spike buttons were thankfully hidden under the heavy cuffs of his military-style jacket, pins displayed casually on the breast. A heavy cord and epaulettes, the source of which was unclear. A velvet waistcoat, because that wasn't too much clothing already, buttoned cutely with Frossa-colored buttons, with a large pink cravat tucked under carefully. Poofy shorts with red lace trimmings, because it was Frossa that'd dressed him. Long red dress socks, the accompanying garters, combat boots. Then it'd been the horn covers, elaborate and weighty on his head. At least she hadn't asked him to put metal on his auricular sponge clots, Alifax thought. How was he supposed to fight like this? The mask seemed almost an afterthought after all of that.

He listened carefully as Erilyn spoke, in a tone littered with overly affectionate nicknames and the pretense of closeness. She was verbose, he could admit, but at least she was providing some structure for the evening. So it was a meet and greet first, huh?He took careful note of the new names - Comedi and Kewrei, definitely clown and probably the seadweller they'd been talking to - as well as a quick shorthand of the schedule. Everyone wanted to know exactly what would be going on, right?
The problem was this: he didn't really want to talk to celebrities. So it was time, mainly, to do what Alifax had done best, once upon a time. And that was blending into the crowd.

He caught sight of a tiny tealblood wearing a dress. She couldn't be that intimidating. Not too high, not so low that she'd be just as clueless as he was. A little like Hazzan. "Hello," he said, offering her an ungloved hand to shake (Frossa had bought him some, but they'd been both purple and obvious. He'd left them, discreetly, somewhere in the corner of her temporary hive. She'd never know anyway, right?). "Alifax Bunsem."

Gl!tch~

 

[Hivestuck]

Tigwyn Ioyana


So many unique characters to socialize with, so little time. The helmsman took in Schrad’s words with careful thought, but the waiting period before the event’s festivities took a toll on his patience. Fortunately, there was always an interruption at hand to keep him alert.

Tigwyn’s attention swiveled from Schrad and he did a quick double take. There was a tiny little sprite talking to him! Tigwyn slipped his cigarette behind a horn and looked back to the redblood. “Pardon me, officer.” He turned to Elidae. She seemed to be a bit of a refreshment – not that his previous acquaintance was offensive or a bore, mind, just that the simple spark of the small troll was something entirely new to this self-important banquet. Even when she seemed to trip over herself, Elidae had a bubbly charm to her that was undeniable. He couldn’t help but smirk, and his false gold tooth shone as she made a mention of it.

“Oi, what’s this! For me, yea?” He plucked it from her hand and gave it a quick dramatic whiff. Tigwyn thought for a moment. His lips pressed into a puckish frown. After a long pause, he winked. “Thank you kindly, miss Bonbon. My name is Tigwyn Ioyana. I like your shoes; they match my toof.”

Tigwyn flourished and gave her little hand a kiss with a laugh. “D’you have other gifts to deliver or am I jus’ a very lucky troll?” He questioned.

blackbird cake