melodiesofeternity | Raise a Glass [OPEN]

Entry tags:

Raise a Glass [OPEN]

Who: The XV Cast and You!
When: June 6th
Where: Curti Center, Jiminy's Juicery (bar)
What: After saving innocents from the Dream Width, some people just need a drink.
Warnings/Notes: Alcohol consumption, possible violence, whatever people do in bars.

Their first foray into the search and rescue business in the Dream Width had been intense, to say the least. Stressful, heartbreaking, exhausting, and enlightening were other words some might use to describe the experience. After a night of rest and a day to somewhat sort things and people out, the next evening brings about a mighty need to head to the local tavern. Some drink to forget, some drink to remember, some drink to relax. There are even representatives of the Bard's Guild providing live music. You can try to make a request, but chances are they don't know your foreign songs.

Maybe you were invited by one of the excitable young men from Lucis, or maybe you came on your own. There's enough room in the bar for quite a few people, so long as they're of age. Sit right at the bar, or pull up chairs around a table, the choice is yours.

[OoC: Make your own toplevel or tag around. Please put content warnings as necessary. Have fun!]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hell if I know," he shrugged. He took his in hand with a grateful nod, sniffing as well.

"Oof. I'm fairly certain this could peel paint," he noted, though he didn't really look turned off from the drink.

"Cheers." He lifted the shot glass to clink against hers, then knocked the drink back in one gulp. As a testament to the strength of the alcohol they'd just consumed, the old man inhaled sharply, then shook his head. "Damn, that was smooth."

Prompto enjoyed cute things like moogles, but he didn't really respond to Noodle much at all. He wasn't thinking about cute moogles or hugs, but he was watching them fight over him.

People shouldn't fight over him, he just wasn't worth it.

"I h-haven't had the chance to tell you." Prompto murmured from behind Gladio. He was losing control of the situation and he'd been slipping from the beginning. He really had the worst luck-

No. He couldn't think that way. He couldn't go down that hole or he'd never leave it.

"That's...two different things." He sucked in a breath, swallowing. "I only have one purpose at Noctis' side and that's to be his best friend. He needed a friend, that's why I'm here. That's why. No one-" He stopped himself, that wasn't true.

"Lady Lunafreya suggested it when we were kids. I barely know anything about where I came from. I know what you know. After the dream ended, I made it out of that building with Aranea's help. I tried to burn off this Astral-damned barcode that I didn't ask for, and I don't want." He sounded halfway to hysterics, but he was hanging in there.

"I wanted to die." Prompto confessed quieter, unable to meet their eyes. He thought he'd lost everything, he thought his friends would react like this.

I. Vehicular Wallflower

See, Hunk isn't old enough to get let into the bar. He knew this, but he still sought to try his luck, to puff out his chest like Lance would've, to try and convince that bartender that he's not just big for his age, he's big and an adult. It didn't work, because he just started laughing awkwardly as soon as he got to the door.

So instead, he's reclined in his shiny new Lion Speeder, legs dangling out over the sides of the cockpit, eating from a giant bag of popcorn resting in the legroom. When he's not glancing towards the bar's door, the windows, or the latest loud noise from within, he's stealing glances from a book that he borrowed from the Curti Library: Memories, The Dream Width, and You.

And if one happened to get close to the Speeder, they may notice the faint but undeniable smell of baked goods wafting from... somewhere. Wh-where is that coming from?! And are those makeshift hammocks in the side-wings?!

II. Sidecars and Cinnamon Rolls

As much as he acted the fool, Hunk was no idiot, so he knew full well that as the night dragged on, like it was now, some people might need a little help getting home. That was why, before he even left his house, he made sure to turn the Speeder's side-wings into... hammocks that sucked you in like bean-bag chairs? Wrapped and reinforced cloth piles that could fit him (he tested!), and should also be able to carry someone who's had a few too many.

With a revving of the space-age engine and the faint, futuristic purr that followed, Hunk gingerly backed the craft a bit away from the door, such that he could easily drive back towards the residential district for what may be one of many trips. And as that engine warmed up more, the smell of baked goods was superseded by the smell of bacon. One has to wonder, has Hunk ever even been around a drunk person? It doesn't matter, he knows how food works and that he can do something to help his friends so gosh darnit, he's gonna help 'em!

Even if they blorf everywhere. Especially if they blorf everywhere.

(( ooc: Of course, other prompts are possible! Just lemme knowwww if you got any ideas! ))

Edited 2018-06-11 05:01 (UTC)

Cor's a bit tipsy himself, but he's still steady on his feet. He was considering getting one more drink, though, when he notices Prompto seemingly conked out at the bar. Looking rather concerned, he shakes Prompto awake - or well, he tries to do so gently.

"Hey...bad place to fall asleep here. Y'all get a crick in the neck...really bad for aiming."

Fortunately, he was still awake, and he just raised his head, blinking blearily at Cor a moment.

"Yeah. I won't." His words were slurring slightly.

His eyes were half-lidded and he looked sad, he rested his chin on his forearm.

"They cut me off."

"Ah...that sucks." Cor nods sagely. Well, as sagely as one could do while being tipsy themselves. "You alright, though? Or do you need help getting anywhere?"

Well that...was a nightmare. And not just talking about the one dream where they heard a disembodied voice saying that they would doom the world and everything to return to the void and all that evil mumbo jumbo. Now Camilla would not mind enjoying a nice glass of wine if she could but she knew of the possibility of getting carried away and coming home to Corrin drunk would not be good for either of them.

So what does she do instead? Order a big glass of iced tea. The bartender was a bit stunned but obliged the request as her moogle cheered her on.

"Wow, I'm surprised you decided on that drink, kupo! I would have thought that after everything..."

"Don't worry, it will take more than that to drive me so far." the princess smiles as she takes a sip, followed by taking out a couple items including some strange fabric and a needle. Some come to bars to drink, some read but this woman? She's doing embroidery. Maybe not the strangest thing but it's a nice thing to work on to calm the mind.

Just if anyone tries to get in a brawl, do it away from her before she punches someone back. Or stabs them with her needle.

Edited 2018-06-11 05:39 (UTC)

Prompto snorted softly at the first question.

"I'm not." He let his head loll, sideways on the arm instead, looking at Cor with glassy eyes.

"Can't fix it. Never."

Cor looks confused for several moments. Isn't this young man normally so cheerful and full of sunshines? But then his training works its way thru the alcohol, and he finds himself frowning as he sits down on a bar stool next to Prompto.

"You're sure about that? Even if you can't fix it by yourself...you might with some help."

"Uh huh." He slurred and sighed, closing his eyes a little.

"I've bad luck." He murmured. "Real bad. I don't- sometimes I don't know."

"Lord Ama-Amici-Clarus. He's mad at me. But I didn't do anything against Noct. Never. I wouldn't." He may not have been making much sense.

"I jus' want to be his friend."

Even with the drunken haze, Cor can feel his hackles slowly rising at those words. The idea of Clarus doubting someone who's more than proven his loyalty to Noct in the Marshal's eyes...it makes him want to punch something, or someone.

Definitely not Prompto, though. He's a good guy. No, a good kid.

"You are his friend, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not even that ass Clarus. Why the hell is he giving you grief?"

Prompto blinked and sat up a little, looking at Cor through the haze.

"I'm a Niff. I was cloned. An experiment." He exhaled. "That's how I was made. I was gonna be an MT."

After a pause he looked at his hands and shook his head. "No, I don't know how I got out, I was a baby. No, I don't have an agenda or anything. I didn't even know."

Cor stares at Prompto in stunned silence for a few moments, trying to fully absorb this new information. "...so...what? You were adopted by some patriots or somethin'? If you got no agenda, no ulterior motives, why would any of that shit matter?"

"I...doubt it." Prompto murmured. "I don't know why they adopted me. They didn't like me."

He let out a soft groan, he was way too drunk.

"He thinks I do and I don't want to talk about it. Bad things happened. Do you go around telling people when bad things happen to you?"

Prompto sounded defensive, a little annoyed with Clarus because that alone wasn't enough to get him to back off.

The thing is? Regis is also a little drunk. Because this place has been too much, and there is nothing that he can do about any of this. Not even about getting home to Father, who does need him.

But... He has not gone missing on Clarus or Cor. They would have told him. So maybe, just maybe, it's all right to be here for as long as he is.

Except alcohol certainly isn't making him feel cheerful. Quite the opposite, and he suspects that if he keeps on going, he might end up in tears, and he knows there are a number of people who would not like to see that. At all.

So, here he is, trying to keep his future son off the floor. Maybe.

"Hey. Easy there, Noct."

Regis was arguably far less drunk than the intent had been. But that didn't at all get in the way of wondering over to his future friend and singing along with him.

And, then, smiling. "Your voice's gone lower and raspier. Sounds good."

"Yes, he should," a familiar voice joins in.

Ignis takes a seat next to him at the table, placing his drink down as well. He's not going to lie, he's been drinking too. But not at the speed Noct has been going. Ignis wasn't counting but that looked like the third shot in last ten minutes.

"And before you say anything," Ignis raises his hand to stop Noct from talking, "I'm not here to stop you from drinking. Just to tell you to slow down." Or you'll get sick and throw up in fifteen minutes.

I: Drinks and Games

"This is a bad idea."

Says Ignis, not stepping away from the small table with shots. He crosses his arms and gives the other person a look, then looks over at the dart board. Problem? None. Except that playing darts was turned into a drinking game- hit even number and you don't get to drink. Hit uneven number and you take a shot. Hit bull's eye and your opponent takes two shots.

"I understand the need for drinking but we will be floored in fifteen minutes."

II: Drinks and Chat

For the first time in Ignis' life, coffee and tea did nothing to alleviate the stress. It only made him even more restless, mind going in circles, replaying everything he saw in the Memory Nebulas. The composed, analytical side of him was suggesting all the rational things- calm down, take it in and give yourself time to process it.

The (mentally) injured side of him, however, was louder than the rational and suggested that drinking away problems should make him feel better. The Rational side argued back and said it won't make the problem go away.

Ignis ignored it.

For the first time in 20 years or so, Ignis Scientia ignored his rational side and sat down with bourbon in his hand. The chatter around him only supported his decision to drink even more.

"...I shouldn't drink," he mutters and downs the scorching liquid, getting Ebony to look over worriedly at him.

III: Drinks and Drunkard

"And then- it was over. Nothing."

The bartender looked Ignis over carefully. He didn't appear to be drunk- his clothes weren't messy, his hair still looked presentable. Only his cheeks were a bit pink but that could be written off to the warmth of the bar.

"Have you ever roasted a snake on an open fire?" The Bartender raised his eyebrows. Ignis continued. "The smell of snake meat is disgusting. But with proper seasonings, it makes a magnificent feast." He leans over to the Bartender who is, for some reason, entertaining Ignis and listening to his hunting stories. "One should never waste the food."

Ebony was in a bit of a panic because as the night went on, the stories Ignis told got more and more gruesome. Worried about him, the Moogle looks for the help in the nearest person that is not drunk- or is not as drunk as Ignis.

"Please, can you help me?! My charge is-"

"You go straight for the neck!" Ignis slammed his hand on the bar, making the empty shot glasses clatter and fall over.

"-he's a bit out of it! Can you help me get him back home?!"

To be fair, he hasn't really even left the room. Ivory just fails at perception checks.It doesn't help that she's also been drinking, so there's that too.

But that's fine. Completely fine, except Regis seems miserable so clearly what he needs is a hug. Mmmyep. Don't mind him, Reggie. Just gonna half-drape himself because whoo boy, not his dad, too. One sad drunk in the family was bad enough, and said drunk is currently head-on-table groaning about something or other. Hm, maybe he should... eh. Sorry not sorry.

"I shtopped..." Oh dear, maybe he should have stopped before that last drink because it briefly registers that his words are slurring before he thinks screw it. But it's true. He did stop drinking anything that wasn't water. He just noticed the sad look and, in his current state, though this needs be remedied. With a hug. That he wouldn't do even while sober since he was like, ten. "Hangin' in there a'ight?"

Huh. Maybe this was why Cid's accent was always a bit slurred.(Nah.)

Noct pouts. No really, pouts because he knows his limits. Why you both gotta be like this?

"Et tu, Igs?" he mutters, before gently pushing the shot glass away for a moment. Just to placate the two. See? Slowing down. It gets a slightly relieved sigh from Ivory, who flutters back to the bar to ask for a glass of water for her charge. Leaving the two alone for a bit.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Ignis appears seemingly out of nowhere, two glasses in his hands. He looks collected and composed, which is a stark contrast to what's going inside of his head. And it is probably even worse with Prompto if he had to guess.

He places the drink in front of Prompto then takes a seat next to him, crossing his legs. The gunslinger doesn't have to drink it if he doesn't want to.

Because he's your advisor and friend. He's not sure about Ivory though.

"I just don't want you getting sick in the middle of the party," Ignis adds lightly, taking a casual sip of his drink. He watches Ivory fly away then refocuses on Noct again. The amount of memories Noct went through- that's going to leave a toll.

"Gil for your thoughts?" The man prods gently. But it's fine if Noct ends up not wanting to talk. That's just how things are sometimes.

Well, Ivory's certainly trying to be a friend. Though it's also her job. Weirdo.

Noct sighs. Well, he has a point, which is why he's not arguing in the slightest save for how his arms cross and he leans back in his seat. He just... wants to forget some of it for a while, alright? Relax a bit and unwind. Yes, he knows he's acting a bit childish, but still.

He glances at Ignis for a brief second, raising an eyebrow. "What?" Not nearly as much irritation in his voice, at least.

And Ignis is smart and sober enough to get a clue. Which... kind of brings up a different "problem". It's... been a while since he just sat down with Noct to have fun and chat and not focus on the problems. All the things they usually do is a plan and strategize, then worry and everything revolves around work.

...

"I said I was wondering if you were up for a drinking game," Ignis sets aside his now empty glass. It's probably not wise to mix drinks, but it's 'fuck it' night.

Probably for the best. Considering his reaction speed is already slowing down a bit, and he's slowly descending down that rabbit hole he is trying so hard to avoid. Because worry. He worries for everyone.

...

Okay, he knows that's not what Ignis said at all, but the thought of playing a game with his oldest friend? Uh, hell yes? He leans forward, a little skeptical but he does uncross his arms. He's already in before he asks: "What kind of game?"

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 2 of 27

Raise a Glass [OPEN]

no subject

no subject

no subject

Blame it on the hooch

no subject

no subject

Oh look, a sober person | OTA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

III. Because ig dad hugs and drunken getting him home? Unless other plans for the latter.

III.

II (I have no clue where this will lead, I'm just winging it)

no subject

idk I'm just winging it

(that's the point of this log.jpeg)

[The party don't start til I walk in.]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

no subject

no subject