summerdude | I'm No Party-Throwing Expert But I Do Think This Is Gonna Be A Good One!

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Current Location: the tower and also legoland!!!

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I'm No Party-Throwing Expert But I Do Think This Is Gonna Be A Good One!

The first day of summer dawns bright and warm, a steady breeze stirring through the trees. The day itself is a flurry of activity: Magnus and Tress meet up in the kitchen early in the morning to start throwing together refreshments for Galahad's party. They make three kinds of cookies, and also a tray of flat brownies — Magnus has it in his head that half of the cookies and all of the brownies should be turned into ice cream sandwiches and, accordingly, tracks down Susan (who seems to know everything about this place) to get her to produce a deep freezer for Legoland. (She has that look on her face like he smells bad the whole time, but when he mentions it's for the bachelorette, at least she seems slightly less cold and standoffish.)

While the baked goods cool, Magnus ransacks the pantry for chips and candy and stuff for sandwiches. He lets Tress handle ice cream selection; when they find boxes of Bagel Bites in the freezer, he cheers. Legoland definitely has a microwave; they plugged the freezer into the same outlet. (Is a bachelorette the same thing as a slumber party? Maybe!)

It's early evening by the time everything is done and set up, even with Alex and Tress's help. He decides that the substantial food and record player should both be reserved for Legoland, partly because it does have electricity. They lug a big old table up to the top of the tower for the taste tests, and then an easel with giant post-it notes for the 'naming Mansion constellations' portion of the evening, and then a bunch of the smaller easels, sketchpads, and a selection of different art supplies (markers, crayons, watercolors, pencils, acrylic paints) he and Sunny have been tracking down and hoarding, for the bestiality portion of the evening.

After sending Tress and Alex off so they can get ready, he sets up for the taste tests: bowls full of different candies (white rabbit, hopjes, strawberry-flavored fizzing warheads, Reeses's cluster bites, Haribo gummy goldbears, hundred grand bars, red vines, salmiak licorice, candied verdant vines (Tress made them), and nerd ropes), bowls full of chips (Takis in the flavors angry burger, blue heat, and dragon sweet chili; Lays in the flavors Wasabi Octopus, All Dressed, Cappuccino, White Rabbit Rich Toffee (to compare with the actual white rabbit candy), and Pimento Cheese), and several cloth bags covering different red-flavored sodas, with wine tasting note cards so people can try to guess which is Code Red, which is Big Red, which is Cheerwine, and (in a fond nod to Alex), which is Tizer. He completes the array with a stack of paper for general ranking notes for the candy and chips. (There are also a couple child-sized easels and ranking sheets, for Mothwing and Sunny, but Magnus did also bring regular water for her and Sunny, a fish supplied by Drosera for Mothwing, and some carrots and apple slices for Sunny. There is also an easel and notepad for Shen Yuan, even though he's just a ghost and probably can't manipulate it, but he knocked once for yes when Magnus asked his growing body if he was going to make it.)

Finally, after convincing Drosera that she should absolutely wear a cute little bolo tie and party hat for this, he darts into the mansion for a quick shower, a change into one of the outfits Galahad picked for him when they tried on clothes, and to collect the groom himself. He presents Galahad with a white sash embroidered in gold; it reads GROOM TO BE. There's also a little tiara that he found in their bedroom. He assumes it's a cheap gimmicky one, but it's actually filigree red and white gold with real sapphires, diamonds, and pearls — he just picked it because it's delicate and will blend in with Galahad's hair in a way that will let the sapphires really pop.

Stages of the night will be posted in parent comments; everyone is welcome to thread with whoever in response to those! Awkward social interactions between people who aren't necessarily friendly are encouraged.

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When guests arrive, they will find Magnus and Galahad hanging out with Alex already in flamingo form. The first thirty minutes of the night will be unstructured; guests are welcome to mingle, engage in taste testing, and chat.

Galahad is wearing his favorite overalls, and the earrings Claudius gave him for his birthday, along with the sash and tiara, and has added mascara to make his eyelashes longer and darker (it's his first time wearing makeup outside of his and Claudius' room). He is eating Angry Burger takis with the intensity and focus usually reserved for disarming explosives.

Edited 2024-08-16 18:20 (UTC)

Alex, still flamingo-shaped, has decided that this is the correct form to sample the chips in, so as Magnus mingles, she wanders over to Galahad and pointedly moves her beak between one of the bowls of chips and some empty space on the table, then tilts her head to one side, clearly asking for help tasting them without needing to stick her absurdly large beak into the bowls.

That seems fair. Galahad begins laying out a single chip from each bowl for her in a line on the table.

Magnus squeezes Galahad's hand right as the first people arrive. He hates being Center of Attention Guy, but he's fully ready to dive into that role so Galahad can have the best bachelorette party ever. "Just signal me whenever you wanna switch things up, okay?"

"Okay," Galahad says, squeezing back.

Lan Wangji is perfectly on time, just as he always is, and dressed in crisp white robes, also just as he always is. He makes his way to the top of the tower and surveys the production with some minor trepidation, which he stoically keeps invisible and to himself. He would not have dreamed of refusing the invitation; how could he? He bows respectfully to Alex in particular, and then proceeds to find himself a place on the outskirts. That said, he may also be found grimly and systematically eating exactly one of every food on offer, because he is the world's most indulgent father figure and teacher and can't refuse anything asked of him by Magnus or Galahad.

Susan also arrives promptly - back in London, she might've aimed for being fashionably late for social reasons, but in truth she likes punctuality and she gets the sense Galahad also appreciates that sort of precision. She's wearing a party frock - not the sort of eye-catching affair she might wear if trying to catch the eye of a lover, but certainly still one appropriate for a special occasion. It's in a lighter blue than the deep navy she usually chooses when she wears actual color, though still deep - more of a cobalt, really. The lace detailing is in the same shade, but shot through with a metallic silver thread. Her hair is loose, cascading down her back.

She watches Lan Wangji sample the snacks, many of which are rather unnatural colors, and comes to stand beside him. "Ought I dare?"

Edited 2024-08-17 00:24 (UTC)

Lan Wangji is generally aware of his surroundings, so Susan's presence is not a surprise, but he is mildly startled when she chooses to speak to him. He manages to fold into a neat little bow despite the fact that he is holding a wasabi octopus-flavored chip delicately between two fingers of one hand, and the look he is giving her when he straightens is one of slightly wry bemusement. On his face, that mostly amounts to very muted amusement in his eyes and a barely-there hint of a quirk at the corner of his mouth. "Young mistress Pevensie. Do you have an adventurous palate?"

Edited 2024-08-17 01:19 (UTC)

"Certainly not this adventurous," says Susan, observing the blue tube that seems to think itself a food product. "I ought to have brought toffee fruits. At least those have got nutrients."

"I have never heard of a toffee fruit." Lan Wangji frowns at the chip between his fingers, then resigns himself and eats it in one neat little bite. It is less dismaying than he feared.

"It's from - another world," she says, mildly. "It grew from toffee, but it's a fruit."

Lan Wangji appears to accept this information without any change of expression as he contemplates the bowl of "all dressed" chips, a phrase that means, as far as he can tell, nothing. He glances back to Susan and then admits, "I have also never heard of toffee."

"It's confectionery prepared from caramelized sugar and butter." Susan takes the strange blue 'food' and breaks off a tiny section of it, placing it carefully on her tongue, and winces immediately. "Oh dear." The remainder of that is going in her handkerchief until she can find a place to dispose of it!

He observes this with sympathy. Out of politeness, he ate the entirety of his portion of that one, but he has no intention of repeating the experience. He will be taking some back to Wei Ying, however. "Magnus tells me that I am from more than a thousand years before him," he says, mildly enough, as explanation for his ignorance regarding toffee.

Susan is very good at not making facial expressions, and furthermore has prepared for many people at Galahad's party liking the boy who he asked to sort out the entire affair, so her mouth doesn't thin at the mention of Magnus. "I'm afraid I haven't got any sense of when he's from," she says, an explanation for how this doesn't clarify the full extent of Lan Wangji's meaning. It's merely clear he's from her future, as well.

"The twenty-first century," Lan Wangji says, without commentary on the fact that that is not at all how years are counted by his own reckoning. Gamely, he eats an all-dressed chip, primarily to have done with it. It is not good.

So anywhere from fifty to a hundred and fifty years in Susan's future. "Ah." She surveys the table and selects a brown crisp. It - is tolerable, for something coffee-flavored.

In that case, Lan Wangji returns to his task. The sooner he has sampled everything, the sooner he will have finished sampling everything. He eats a red vine, carefully doesn't make a facial expression, and then pauses to dutifully record his observations. Because the entire setup seemed too crowded for grinding ink, he is writing with one of the pens Magnus provided, but because he refuses to compromise his handwriting, he is doing so very slowly and with deep focus in the pursuit of each character emerging as neatly as possible.

And Susan lets him be. There shall surely be time enough to chat with everyone over the course of the party.

Have you ever seen a flamingo bow? Lan Wangji has now. Absurd.

"So which is your favorite?" Magnus asks, eagerly.

Lan Wangji shoots him a warm glance, then considers, glancing down at his sheet of rankings thus far. He has disliked most of what he has tried, but luckily, not all of it. "The warheads."

"Fun, right? They stopped making them back home when I was still just a kid," says the eternal sixteen year old.

Lan Wangji takes one of said warheads, pops it tidily into his mouth, and eats it. His face neither moves nor changes whatsoever. "Fun," he agrees.

"I didn't think you'd like that one best," says Magnus, even though it's extremely clear from Hanguang-jun's demeanor that he's enjoying it considerably.

"What did you think?" He eyes the lineup of foods again.

"The White Rabbit?"

"That one is inoffensive. I rarely like any candy."

"Not any?" Magnus asks. "What kind of candy did you grow up with?"

"None, at the Cloud Recesses." Lan Wangji gives the bowl of nerd ropes a glance of suspicion. "Down the mountain, dragon's beard candy, tanghulu, or dried plums."

"Dried plums is candy? You mean, like. Regular old prunes?"

Lan Wangji frowns, grappling with the translator. "I think it is not the same." In any case: "There is more sugar in this mansion than I had ever seen in my life," he says. "Candy becomes much sweeter in the future."

"Yeah. And at least half of this stuff is American, I think. I hear that's extra sweet."

"Mn." He nods, accepting that this is a relevant cultural difference. "I don't like sweet things."

Magnus mock-gasps. "Not even your husband? Not even Sunny?"

Sweet is not exactly the first word he would use to describe Wei Ying, but Lan Wangji gives Magnus a look of mild amusement anyway. "With a select few exceptions."

"Yeah, yeah. That's what I thought."

Mothwing's been warned about Alex, but it's still odd not to try and hunt a bird in their midst. She sits on the opposite side of the room, tail twitching, wondering what twolegs do at parties.

Gideon spots Mothwing and makes a glad beeline for her. "Hello!" she says, which sounds like a normal thing to say, but is actually a callback.

Mothwing's glad to see Gideon, too. She's always liked that Gideon balked at the idea of trapping kittypets right away, without even a single argument that they might be better off in a twoleg den.

"Hello, Gideon!" she meows warmly. "Have you been to one of these before? I'm afraid cats don't have so much ceremony around becoming mates."

Gideon shakes her head. "I haven't. I'd never been to any kind of party before I came here." She eyes the assorted snacks. "So far they seem to mostly be about eating and drinking stuff and talking to people."

"Well, you and I have that in common, then. Twolegs have very different tongues than cats," Mothwing meows, following her line of sight. "There was a whole new taste I tried when I was in Nina's body, and I suspect most of these are flavored like that."

"We have a different taste?" Gideon asks, fascinated. "Is there one cats have that we don't?"

"Well, meat certainly tastes better in my own body," Mothwing muses. "But twolegs have sweet, which we don't have. I tried it in some pancakes."

"Nina loves sweet," agrees Gideon. "I'm more of a spicy guy myself. Hey, if that one ever repeats, maybe we'll swap, and you can enjoy spicy and I can taste super-meat."

"Go for fish first, if that happens. Fish is the best prey. But you know that, right? I think I see you fishing sometimes."

"Ah, yeah." Gideon rubs the back of her neck. "I'm not very good at it, though. I don't have paws and claws, so I have to try and use a pole and line."

"Is anyone teaching you? Other twolegs who know how to fish?"

Gideon gives a slightly embarrassed shrug. "I made a bet with Little John about it. I thought asking for help might be cheating."

"You're never going to learn anything without a mentor," Mothwing scolds. "Asking for help isn't cheating."

"Okay," says Gideon, abashed. Being scolded by Mothwing is so cute she can't even resent it like she usually does. "I'll ask."

"Good. What have you been up to, besides hoping fish will fling themselves into your paws by themselves?"

Gideon doesn't think Mothwing will be interested in whatever is going on with her and Tally. "I've been sparring with Lancelot a lot," she says, "and reconsidering my stance on God."

Mothwing nods. Sparring doesn't surprise her in the least. Gideon feels so much like a young warrior that Mothwing can almost picture her as a cat, big and ginger and probably doing something stupid to bring the biggest prey home. The second part of what she says takes Mothwing aback, though, her ears going back in alarm.

"Reconsidering it from what to what?"

"Well, I was raised in a nunnery. Um. Do cats have nunneries?"

"No, we don't." Mothwing thinks maybe she's heard Galahad say the word, but she's not sure.

"Okay, so, a bunch of old people who worship our God really hard. Specifically, they guard the Tomb, where something's sealed away that can kill Him. Obviously everyone who vaguely raised me was fanatically devoted to that not happening, because He's all-knowing and all-seeing and keeps the universe alive or whatever. But it turns out he kind of sucks, probably."

"I mean, does he allow suffering to happen, despite being all-knowing and all-seeing? Then yes, he sucks." Mothwing says this confidently, but with an air of knowing it's a controversial opinion. "That's what I think about StarClan, the warrior ancestors we worship back where I come from, anyways."

The idea that God could, or should, stop suffering--like, in a general way, and not specifically in response to individual prayer--is completely alien to Gideon. "Huh! We have warrior ancestors, too, but they're not the same as God. And they're just, like, the holy dead. They don't still do stuff."

"Yes, well. Ours maybe do too much," Mothwing says drily. "Be grateful yours aren't possessing your brother and using his power to exile cats they have grudges against."

Okay, now, if this is the kind of stories that get told at parties, Gideon's in. "Your brother got possessed? Tell me more, immediately."

Mothwing's tail flicks with exasperated amusement. "You like ghost stories? It's not just a daring adventure, I have to say. Parts of it were tragic."

Gideon can't help laughing. "Dude, like, every outfit I own is all black and covered in bones." A beat, and then, because she's talking to a cat: "That, uh, that means I like ghost stories, yeah."

"I suppose that makes sense. Well, alright then. My brother is called Bramblestar, and he's the leader of ThunderClan. His mate is called Squirrelflight. Squirrelflight almost chose another tom, Ashfur, to be her mate, but chose Bramblestar in the end. Ashfur was so upset about this, even in death, that he possessed Bramblestar’s body and used Bramblestar’s power as leader to punish every cat who had wronged him, all while Squirrelflight thought he was her real mate."

"Woah." That's a lot to unpack. "I've got my own experience with body-stealing pieces of shit, and like. Fuck' em. I'm sorry for Squirrelflight—and you, I'm guessing you also thought it was your brother the whole time?"

"I did, but we're in different clans, so I don't see very much of him," Mothwing meows. She's felt a little odd referring to Bramblestar as her brother while living here, actually. It feels like necessary information, but everyone in the clans already knows that they aren't close, and knows that her true brother is--was--Hawkfrost. "I'm very sorry you went through something similar. Hopefully it wasn't your close kin?"

Gideon shakes her head. "I didn't even know her before she got bodysnatched. But she pretended to like me a lot, before she tried to kill me, and a friend of mine had this whole thing—like, he used to write the real her letters, and he'd dedicated his life to save her life. Um. She was sick." Gideon makes a face. "I feel like I'm telling this story backwards, let me start again."

"This twoleg sounds infuriating," Mothwing meows sympathetically. "How awful, to abuse everyone's trust like that. Bramblestar was sick, too--he actually died, but since he's a leader, he would have gotten another of his nine lives, if the impostor had not slipped in while his spirit was in StarClan. Go on, was it something similar to that?"

"Wait, the nine lives thing is, like, real?"

"Only for leaders, but yes."

"So, what, when you become leader you're gifted eight extra lives? Or is it hereditary?"

"You're given them by StarClan when you become leader, yes. The idea that the next leader should be the kit of the current leader is twoleg nonsense."

"Okay, yeah, it's nonsense if the lives aren't passed down hereditarily, but I feel like if they were those guys would have a big advantage, and probably end up leader anyway just through, like, power," says Gideon. That's basically how it works necromantically, probably. Like, the Houses are ordained by God, but they're ordained by God with the ability to explode people's brains. The whole rule over the planet thing is kinda secondary.

"Why did that woman steal someone's body, though?"

Gideon makes a face. "It's really complicated." She pauses. "Um—I don't actually think I know. She was trying to find something out, obviously, before she tried to kill everyone, but damned if I know what."

"Hmm. It's troubling, not to know." She remembers the troubled moons of speculation before Ashfur's identity had been revealed. "It's much harder to fight a mysterious enemy than one who tells you what they're doing. I mean, we all know that here, don't we?" Mothwing's been apprised of the Aornis situation, though she doesn't think Aornis cares much about her. For once, it's good that twolegs don't always care about cats.

"Yeah," says Gideon, grimly. She shakes her head. "But—hey, it's a party, and look at us all fuckin' gloomy. We really don't know how to vibe with the two-legs, huh?"

"I'm too old to learn how to party," Mothwing meows, deadpan. "I'm a grumpy old medicine cat who's not allowed to have fun."

Gideon laughs. "Not even a little bit of fun?"

"Not once, or I'll simply keel over." Mothwing mrrows with laughter. "Oh, no, I had better be careful."

"Quick, we gotta elect you leader around here, so you can have fun exactly eight times."

Mothwing snorts. "If anyone should be leader around here, it's Susan," she meows. "But we do seem to be getting along fine without one."

That's true, though the lack of anyone even bidding for power does trip Gideon up sometimes. "Susan used to be a queen, right? Like Janet? I wonder if either of them have nine lives."

"It's possible." Mothwing says this very seriously. "I don't know what their StarClans are like."

"I'll have to ask," says Gideon thoughtfully.

"Then come back and tell me," Mothwing says. "And tell me who you get to teach you to fish."

"Kitty?"

Oh, a twoleg kit. Mothwing's still not great on twoleg ages, but this one looks very young.

"Hello," she meows. "My name is Mothwing."

Sunny gasps. She was not expecting the kitty to talk. Luci's cat does not talk, and neither does Susan's. "Sunny," she says, to introduce herself, because she is not rude.

Mothwing lets out a mrrow of laughter. Even twoleg kits are adorable. "Twolegs like yourself can understand me here, and not other cats, though I don't know why," she meows.

Sunny counts her legs. "One two!" She wonders what else qualifies as a twolegs. She then starts counting Mothwing's legs. "One two three sevnin!"

Sunny has difficulties with numbers past three.

"One, two, three, four, actually," Mothwing corrects gently, lifting each paw in turn. Sunny's clearly a very young kit. "Are you having fun at the party?"

Oh, right! Four comes after three. It’s a hard thing to keep track of. There are so many numbers. “Uh huh!” She says.

"Me too," Mothwing meows. "I've never been to a bachelorette party before."

Sunny has also never been to a bachelorette party, but she has a hard time pronouncing that word, so instead she says, “Magnu Galad party.” She wonders if talking kitties enjoy being pet like non-talking kitties do. Sunny knows how to pet a kitty now. She has learned a lot of things since she got here a long, long time ago.

"Yep," Mothwing agrees. "They did a great job organizing it."

"Uh huh!" Except that the chips are gross. But Magnu brought some apples for her, so that makes up for it.

Mothwing looks at her, unsure how to entertain a twoleg kit. It does seem a little sad that Sunny has no littermates to play-fight with. Mothwing wishes she had a moss ball or something.

"Do you want to have a bachelorette party when you get older?" she finally asks. In her experience, kits like to talk about being grown up.

Edited 2024-08-19 14:35 (UTC)

"Aeklogejula," Sunny says. This is a word which here means, "I think society's incessant need to ask infants and toddlers if they want to be married, specifically when it relates to a female child such as myself, is frustrating. I do not know if I will want to be married, I am not yet at an age where I think I should even be looking for romantic partners yet. However, I probably have another birthday coming up soon and wouldn't mind a fun party for that event when it happens, if anyone feels like planning one for me."

She then adds, "Cake!" She quite liked the cake she ate with Sagramore recently, when it was his birthday.

"Okay," Mothwing meows, amused. "So, cake for your next party?"

"Yeah! Cake." Cake is soft, which generally she does not care much for, but she really likes the icing, so that makes up for it.

"Do you like the food at this party? I'm not really a fan."

"No," Sunny says, signing no at the same time, even though she doesn't know if kitties know sign language or not. "Wasabi."

Mothwing knows from Magnus that that's what was making her favorite chips so spicy, so she nods emphatically. "I completely agree! They should just make plain octopus chips."

"Uh huh!" She didn't know there was octopus on the chips as well, she just knows they were gross. She has come to the conclusion that wasabi should only be eaten if it is some sort of life or death situation. She does not know what kind of life or death situation could be solved by eating wasabi, but she's certain that's the only way she would ever eat wasabi again.

"You're a very polite kit," Mothwing observes.

"Oh thanks," she says. "Bye!" she adds, because something else exciting has now caught her attention, and she runs off.

Tress gets herself ready for the party fairly quickly once the preparations are ready and arrives, wearing a light blue dress. She greets those who arrived ahead of her, especially Galahad, and goes to start trying the food that she didn't have an active hand in creating.

While they're still in the mingling and tasting part of the evening, Galahad finds her, holding a rolled up piece of paper with a ribbon tied around it. "I made this for you."

"Oh!" Her eyes widen a little as she sets down whichever one of the red drinks she's tasting and takes it. "Thank you. Should I open it now?"

"If you would like."

Tress nods and carefully unties the ribbon, unrolling the paper to look.

It's the drawing he conceived of months ago, when she picked a gift for Charlie -- her portrait, as he drew her the day they sat together, with a large soft rat on her shoulder, tucked beneath her braid as if under a shelter. He doesn't know what kind of rat Charlie looked like, but the one in the drawing is chubby and friendly-looking, standing up on its back feet. It has a tiny pirate's hat on its head, and a cup in its front paws.

Tress finds herself blinking rapidly as her eyes tear up upon seeing the picture. "Oh! Oh, Galahad, it's perfect. Thank you so much."

Careful not to crush the drawing, Galahad hugs her. "You're welcome."

Tress quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. This is a party after all. She gives Galahad a smile. "I'm going to hang it on my wall."

"Thank you for telling me about him."

"Thank you for listening." She laughs a little. "And for giving me a gift at your own party."

"Thank you for coming and baking things for us."

"Oh, of course. I like baking and I like all of you, so that was very easy to say yes to."

Tally had strong-armed (read: half-encouraged, half-bullied) Gideon into dressing up for this, so she's in an oversized shirt patterned with butterflies and the jawbones of some kind of creature, unbuttoned to her navel, over a black sports bra and nice black slacks, looser than her normal jeans.

When she sees either Magnus or Galahad or both, she will point to her shirt with both thumbs and go, "Look!! Bugs and bones!!"

Galahad, very seriously, says, "You look hot."

Gideon pulls him in to ruffle his hair (gently, so as not to dislodge the tiara). "You, too, Jumpy. Happy pre-wedding or whatever."

Edited 2024-08-17 14:58 (UTC)

"Okay, I actually love that," Magnus says, leaning in to inspect the sleeve, respectfully keeping his eyes fully away from its open front and her sports bra. "Extremely cool."

"Thank you," says Gideon. "Tally's trying to get me to branch out, like, fashion-style, but I managed to still sneak the bones in."

"It's great bone content," he says, seriously.

"I got one with cute li'l snakes, too, but I think people might think I'm stealing Crowley's vibes even more than they already do. When obviously we just arrived at the same vibes independently, due to good taste."

"Oh, is that what's going on there?"

"Yeah. Briefly thought he might be my dad, but we basically ruled it out."

Sunny is wearing a very fluffy dress with pink flowers and green leaves printed on it. There was a matching headband with big fabric flowers, but when Sunny tried it on she decided she didn't want it, so instead her hair is in two tiny little pigtails that stick straight out, tied back with small green bows. She has on pink shoes that squeak when she walks.

"Okay, your hair is so cute," says Magnus, kneeling down for a high five. "Wanna come show Alex how cool your dress is?"

She high fives back and then says, "Yes! Letsgo!"

"Okay," Magnus says, and leans down as if sharing a big secret. "She's a flamingo right now. Do you know what that looks like?"

Sunny points to the flamingo. "Pink!"

"Very good," Magnus says. "Alex really likes being the pinkest flamingo she can. Wanna lead the way?"

"Yeah!" she does reach up for Magnu's hand before she starts walking though.

Magnus lets her lead the way to Alex.

Oh, that's not going to get annoying at all. SecUnit keeps a wary eye on the infant as they squeak across its path. Are humans this small supposed to be at whatever kind of party this is?

Sunny sees someone she does not know, and as she is a very polite young lady, she does up to introduce herself. "Hi."

It looks down (and down, and down) at her bemusedly. "Hi."

"I Sunny," she says, signing her name at the same time as well.

"Nice to meet you, Sunny," Murderbot says, because it's not made of fucking stone, okay. (It actually gets along fairly well with children, but it hasn't encountered many that were this small, and it's not sure what the protocol is. Other than talking to them in a stupid mushy voice, which it is not going to do.)

Sunny appreciates that this stranger isn't talking to her in a stupid mushy voice, as that often feels like she's being patronized, which she does not like. "Introduce?" she asks, waiting for it to tell her its name.

It blinks twice as the tiny, barely formed human comes out with a word that's arguably bigger than she is.

It blinks again.

"SecUnit," it says.

"Seyounet," Sunny repeats back. She extends her tiny hand for a tiny handshake.

That is such a tiny hand, holy shit. Even if SecUnit was a fan of handshakes, the idea of that one would frankly be intimidating. Instead, it gives her a tiny wave. After a long¹ moment of thought, it tells her, "You can say 'Rin' if that's easier."

¹ .68 seconds.

Another person who goes by multiple names. That seems to be a running theme here. “Win,” she repeats, deciding that it is easier to say, even if she still didn’t say it correctly.

Its face does a thing, a phrase which here means 'acquires the sort of expression you might make if you were inclined to smile, but had no idea how such a thing was done'. "Yeah. Are you friends with Galahad?"

She nods. “Galad friend,” Sunny says, then adds, “Magnu brother,” because Magnu said he is her forever brother now and that seems relevant.

"Okay." It hesitates, even less experienced in small talk with small humans than with full-sized ones. (She's so small. The huge poofs of the dress just make her look even smaller.)

Edited 2024-08-18 19:41 (UTC)

Sunny is, as SecUnit can see, quite small. As a result, she has a proportionally-sized attention span at times, a phrase which here means, "a very small attention span, much of the time". She gives it a hug around the legs, then says, "Kay bye!" and runs off, shoes squeaking, as she goes to find someone else to talk to.

"Bye," it says mildly, only wincing a little as the squeaking starts up again, and wanders over to look at the easels.

Enjolras arrives shortly after Lan Wangji does, dressed in something very similar to this floral patterned waistcoat; his only concession to the party being a green frock coat instead of a black. He greets Alex, Magnus, and Galahad with a short nod, and lingers on the outskirts as well, observing the sodas and snacks with somewhat appalled curiosity.

Edited 2024-08-17 02:35 (UTC)

Susan accidentally makes eye contact, and then quickly covers for it by sampling the candied verdant vines. The texture is unpleasant, but she's cobbled together similar flavor profiles when trying to bake something with rations in London, so it's tolerable, in a nostalgic sort of way.

Enjolras gives her a short nod, just enough to charitably be called polite. He intends to avoid her if at all possible, and reaches to to inspect the blue Takis. "...Have you any idea why these are blue?"

"I haven't. I can't imagine they're properly food," says Susan, with all the muted horror of a woman who has realized she might have an opinion in common with the most odious man she knows.

"Likely not. I have never heard of ...'Takis' before, but they do not look anything like any sort of food I am accustomed to." Enjolras' own muted horror is all for the assortment of foods in front of him; though he will, for Galahad's sake, try all of them.

Susan very nearly says 'naturally not; I doubt they're French or within the purview of Rousseau's interests' but it does seem rather needlessly petty, so she just murmurs, "Nor I," and moves on.

Sunny spots Luci across the room and heads over. She likes Luci. They have hung out at ~~her house~~ Sagramore and Waetee's house before! She gives him a hug around his leg. "Party!" she says, happy that he came to Magnu's Galahad Party.

"Yes, petite miette," he replies with a grin, leaning down to ruffle her hair. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Uh huh!" she says, cheerfully enough, but then she suddenly gets very serious. She points to the table with the snacks, specifically at the chips, and says, "Gross."

He nods, just as serious. “I quite agree. Stay away from the blue ones.”

"Wasabi chip," she warns him in return. She lifts her arms and asks, "Up?" because she would like to be held for a few minutes.

"Of course," he nods and bends to lift her up, settling her against his hip somewhat awkwardly. "Where would you like to go?"

She shrugs. She wasn't planning on going anywhere, she just wanted to continue their conversation from up here instead of on the floor.

"Alright, then," he says, smiling a little. "Shall we go and see what else Magnus has laid out for us?"

"Okay!"

So he carries her over to inspect some of the other things available in the room: the easels, the various foods arrayed, and to inspect the strangely red drinks. Enjolras peers at them curiously. "What might this be? Juice?"

"Soda," Sunny explains. Thankfully, none of it appears to be parsley flavored.

He purses his lips at it. "It looks rather sweet." He has a feeling he won't enjoy it.

"Try?" she asks, meaning, "Should we try it together and see if it's any good?"

“Oh, if you would like to, certainly.” He pours them both a small amount of one of the sodas.

"Oh thanks," Sunny says and takes the cup. She drinks it. "Drinks it" is a phrase which here means, "spills most of it down her neck and chest".

"...Oh." He admirably mostly hides a smile, and leans to grab them both a napkin. "Did you like it, at least?"

"Uh huh," she says, then asks, "Red?" while sticking out her tongue. "Red" is a word which here means, "did the drink turn my tongue red?" and surprisingly does not here mean, "the blood of angry men".

That smile is getting increasingly hard to hide. Sunny's far too cute for him not to be endeared. "Yes, it is quite red," he assures her; and tries some of the soda himself. He rather immediately makes a face, it is far too sweet for his tastes.

"Good," she says in regards to her tongue being properly red. But then Luci tries the drink and makes a face that Sunny knows means, "Yucky?"

"Yes," he says, wrinkling his nose. "It is too sweet."

"Sunny likes."

"That is because you are quite sweet, mam'selle," he says, smiling.

Edited 2024-09-25 02:36 (UTC)

"Not too," she says, meaning "Unlike this drink though, I am not too sweet."

So... this is happening.

Despite the mansion's aversion to anything resembling modern technology, Murderbot was somehow expecting the threatened "invite" to show up in its feed or something, and not on a bright pink sheet of paper attached to its door. After careful examination, it brought the thing inside and laid it carefully on the table it mostly doesn't use, but did not check any checkboxes. (It isn't totally sure what RSVP stands for, and it knows better than to sign any contract it doesn't fully understand.)

When it went to change into fresh clothes, though, all of its go-to hooded jackets and multi-pocked pants were nowhere to be found. It spent several irritated minutes looking for them before it gave in to the inevitable.

So SecUnit turns up wearing a long-sleeved tee (the one reading "please don't make me do things" was a strong temptation, but Murderbot can be nice sometimes, okay?) and dark blue jeans with only a few pockets. It regards the taste-test table with misgiving -- Magnus mentioned astronomy and fauna but nothing about mandatory eating -- but manages to keep a straight face, and even to nod politely to the large pink creature that must be Magnus's romantic partner.

It can do this. Probably.

"Thank you for coming," Galahad tells it. "We won't light anything on fire."

"Good plan," it says, and after a second, "Uh, congratulations?"

"Thank you. I'm glad you are keeping watch over him."

This takes it another second to parse. "It's fine. I mean."

He nods. Those are the things it felt important to say, so he's willing to fall quiet and spare SecUnit further conversation.

After a little silence it ventures, "This is a lot of people." More than it would have thought Galahad wanted to be around at the same time, honestly.

"Yes," quietly. "I didn't realize it would be so many." The number seemed smaller when he was giving Magnus names than it does now, when he's surrounded by people.

A beat. "You okay?"

"For now," he answers honestly.

SecUnit relaxes almost imperceptibly. "Okay."

"You can leave when you want."

"I will," it says simply.

Mothwing's interested to see a twoleg who doesn't even try any of the foods, so she pads up to introduce herself.

"Hello," she meows. "I'm Mothwing. I don't think we've met."

"No," it agrees. "I'm-- SecUnit."

It's weird to hear something that small and furry talking, but again, as it told Tally, there's so much weird shit in the mansion that it's barely fazed.

"Not a fan of the food, either?" she asks. "You twolegs are always surprising me with your differences."

This takes it a moment. "You mean humans?"

"I certainly don't mean birds."

It looks pointedly at the Alex-bird, currently lounging on one of their two spindly legs and crunching something in their weird giant beak.

"Alright, fair point, but she's a special twoleg. Most of you can't do that, I don't think."

SecUnit briefly considers standing on one foot just to be a smartass, but decides the dignity cost isn't worth it. "I meant, if things besides humans have two legs, why do you only say it about humans?"

"I'd just never heard the word before I came here," Mothwing meows. "I guess I can say human if everyone wants me to..."

"I don't know what everyone wants," with a small shrug. "I just think if you're going to use it for humans and me, you might as well count birds too."

"Humans and you?" Mothwing gets a little closer and gives SecUnit a sniff. Upon closer inspection, it definitely doesn't smell quite right. "What are you, then?"

Man, do none of these people communicate with each other about the things Murderbot would rather not keep explaining? "I'm a SecUnit. A construct." Although if she has trouble with the word humans, maybe it should just... show her.

Ugh.

"I don't know that kind of animal," Mothwing meows, interested. "I'm sorry to have mixed you up. I know I'd be annoyed if someone thought I was a fox or, StarClan forbid, a dog."

With an internal sigh, it prepares once again to figure out an explanation that won't net it a blank stare in return. "It's not an animal, it's... Do you know about machines?"

"I don't think so." Mothwing thinks she's heard the word, but isn't sure exactly what it means.

Oh, isn't this going to be fun. "Humans built me. Out of inorganic and organic parts, to do stuff they can't do themselves." Or don't want to do themselves, but it doesn't want to get into that right now.

Mothwing stares at SecUnit blankly for a long time, trying to process this. It's odd to think a person could be built like a den. She supposes at least it saved some twoleg queen from the dangers of pregnancy. Mothwing realizes monsters must also be built this way, to help twolegs get places faster. It does seem a little exploitative, but clan cats are raised for a purpose, too.

"What sort of stuff?"

SecUnit looks a little blank itself. How is it supposed to explain corporate security and enforcement to a cat. "Dangerous stuff, mostly."

"Hmm. Well, that doesn't seem very fair."

Yeah, we're not getting into that. "Anyway, that's why I don't eat. I don't have a digestive system."

"Oh! Well, fair enough. Where does it come from, then? The sun, like plants?"

Help.

"Sort of. I have power cells. They recharge." It's aware that this is not much of an explanation, but the idea of trying to put the technical details of its base components into fauna-friendly language is more than it can face at the moment.

"Fascinating," Mothwing murmurs, meaning it, though she's starting to be able to tell SecUnit doesn't really want to talk about it. "Well, you're not missing much with this particular twoleg food. A lot of it is too spicy or too bland."

"Yeah, it doesn't smell great." To be fair, SecUnit, most humans can't detect airborne particles of octopus extract at concentrations that low.

"So, you're friends with Galahad?"

"I like him," it hedges. "It's good that he's doing better, he was really depressed for a while."

"He did tell me something to that effect," Mothwing says carefully, not wanting to share information Galahad might not want shared. "I'm training him as my medicine cat apprentice, and I think that's helping as well. He likes to learn."

"Medicine... cat." It's not sure how that's supposed to work, given that Galahad is in fact a human.

"Medicine twoleg. Human. Actually, I think he'd prefer being called a cat," Mothwing concludes. "He wants to turn into one for a while at some point."

SecUnit blinks, nonplussed. "Is that an option?"

"With twoleg magic, I think so. It surprised me too."

Why is it even surprised anymore. "I guess that makes sense."

Edited 2024-08-21 18:09 (UTC)

"Well." Mothwing can tell SecUnit isn't really a chatter. "Enjoy the rest of the party."

"You too," it remembers to say.

Gideon's seen this person around, but she doesn't know their name, or like, anything about their deal. Parties are, according to Tally, about meeting new people, and there's a distinct lack of hot babes around, so. She sidles up to them. "Hey. Gideon Nav."

"I know," it says. Tally's romantic partner, that CombatTally apparently roughed up just to be an asshole. "SecUnit."

"Nice to meet you," says Gideon, and then, after a short hesitation, "got pronouns?"

It looks down at her, startled. This is not a question that SecUnits get asked very often, since most people don't care whether they misgender an appliance.

Murderbot doesn't care either, to be honest, but since she asked politely and everything: "Usually 'it', but whatever. I don't have a gender."

"Noted." Gideon tucks her hands in her pockets. "So what's your home dimension like?"

"Bigger than this," it says dryly.

Gideon snorts. "No kidding, mine too." She pops a gummy bear in her mouth. "Though if we're talking planet rather than whole dimension, honestly not that much bigger."

"This planet has got to be bigger than what we can access¹." Its flat tone nevertheless has a trace of exasperation. "You can't fully terraform a few lousy square kilos just floating in space. Even magic can't make that make sense."

¹ This is what is called "foreshadowing".

Gideon nods. "You don't think it's on Earth? Seems like that's where a lot of people here are from. Wait, no." If Earth's the First House—"Does Earth only have one moon?"

"I have no idea," SecUnit admits. Among the many education modules it was not given, historical astronomy is right up there.

"Sounds like you're from space, though," says Gideon. "Which is a nice change. I have to say shit like boats that take you between stars to a lot of people here."

It exhales. "Tell me about it. I just had to explain what a bot/human construct is to the cat."

Gideon winces. "Okay, well, common ground over, actually, I have no idea what that is." She gives it an apologetic shrug. "I mean, I can probably guess, but--we don't have robots."

This is only mildly surprising; even in its own universe, outside the Corporation Rim there are polities like that. Even Preservation is comparatively high-tech, it's learned. "It's pretty much what it sounds like. I have some human parts, obviously," its jaw tightening. It wonders suddenly, furiously, why the damn Mansion can give it exactly the right kind of drones, but not armor. "But the majority is bot."

"Woah," says Gideon, who had not clocked that it was talking about itself. She immediately starts wondering what a necromancer could—and couldn't—do to someone like SecUnit. "You got a meat brain in there?"

It actually winces. "Do you have to put it like that?"

"No," says Gideon honestly. "I could probably put it worse, if I tried."

Edited 2024-09-30 23:22 (UTC)

Laertes arrives with a very small package in hand--at long last, he's finished the final details on the signet ring that Galahad means to give to Claudius, and now it lies nestled safely in a velvet-lined box. (There's a second ring, too, sized for Galahad's finger, that Laertes has labored over in secret; he hopes that the discovery of a second ring alongside the first will be a happy surprise.)

Gu Xiang arrives arrayed for war, her whip sword belted on and spare knives tucked into every conceivable belt and boot gap. "I'm ready for the kick-butt activities!!" she tells Magnus. "Whose butt am I kicking first?"

"Um..... these takis?" Magnus says, offering her the bowl of Blue Heat.

"Gu Xiang!" Gideon crosses to her and immediately starts in on the first moves of their handshake.

Eventually, Magnus will shepherd everyone over to the easels. He'll press a kiss to Alex's feathery little flamingo head, and then announce that she's selected a few animal forms that they can draw -- he won't announce them up front, but as drawing and painting go on, it will become clear that the forms include, but aren't limited to, flamingo, hippo, unicorn, and giraffe -- and that if guests ask very nicely, she might try one or two additional forms after that.

He has some idea that bachelorette parties are supposed to involve specifically bringing up the groom as much as possible? But he knows Galahad would hate that. He's just trying to facilitate a bunch of activities Galahad loves with people he also loves. He does, as a nod to this being Galahad's night anyway, manage to refrain from mentioning just how great and cool Alex is every other word in his announcement of this first formal activity.

Sunny has recently been told by many reputable sources that she can create Very Fine Drawings. She's also very fast compared to everyone else. She thinks that probably counts for something.

In the spirit of sharing art with the world, here are her masterpieces, a word which here means, "crayon scribbles".

Flamingo:

Hippo:

Unicorn:

Giraffe:

And, because this is Magnu's Galahad party, after all, she also takes the time to do a portrait of Galahad:

Edited 2024-08-18 17:15 (UTC)

Mothwing decides to try her best at drawing something, since she's been jealous of this twoleg ability for a while. She tries a crayon first, since it seems small and easy to hold in her teeth. Any ambitions of drawing Alex go down the river immediately, though, and she focuses on just trying to make straight lines.

Magnus comes up behind her. "Wanna try a paw-and-inkpad setup?"

Mothwing startles a little, her fur briefly fluffing up before she forces it to lie flat. She'd been concentrating so hard that she lost track of her surroundings. She lets the crayon go and surveys her lines. They're not bad.

"If you have an idea that you think would be easier, by all means," she meows.

Magnus retrieves an ink pad and opens it for Mothwing. It's nontoxic, so it should be fine. "You can dip your paw pads on this, and then use them to draw."

Mothwing gives it a try, dabbing lightly at the pad with one paw. It has an odd, wet texture, a little bit like mud. She's able to make a clear pawprint on the paper, but she has to dab her paw several times to get the ink to stay long enough to make lines.

"Sorry, I know it dries fast. At least it's probably better for you than paint, though?"

Mothwing eyes the paint, which looks as sticky and viscous as blood. "Yes, this seems better."

Magnus laughs. "I thought so."

Although Lan Wangji has had few occasions to practice his painting recently, he can easily imagine his uncle's disappointed face if he allowed the skill to waste away entirely. Back in the jingshi, he has an entire stack of his own childhood paintings, survivors of the burning of the Cloud Recesses, as proof of the effort he put into learning.

This painting is not quite the sort of painting he knows, but he anticipated that. He observes Alex at length each time, studying the overarching shapes and shades of each beast, and proceeds to do his best with the watercolors. He is used to using calligraphy ink¹, so instead he selects one color for each animal along with a store of black paint: a bright pink for the flamingo, a dark grey for the hippopotamus, smooth yellow for the giraffe, and so on. For the unicorn, he allows both pink and green. With intentional dilution of each color, it becomes possible to create a reasonable approximation of every creature, a collection of thoughtful, deliberately loose brushstrokes rather than an effort at strict realism. (Something like this or this as far as the general vibes.)

¹The kind of painting he knows how to do is shui mo/水墨/ink wash, which mostly uses different washes of black ink.

The drawing portion helps settle Galahad a little -- he's beginning to be overwhelmed by all the people and all the talking, in the same way he was at Sagramore and Laertes' dance, where all the words stopped being words and just became incomprehensible sounds instead. Focusing on each of Alex's forms gives him a grounding point, and he works studiously at his drawings.

Magnus isn't that bad at drawing, in that he definitely had a phase in seventh grade where he got really into drawing halfway-decent manga versions of superheroes, and his skills have neither progressed nor atrophied considerably since then, but since it's Alex he's mostly drawing hearts on his paper, because he keeps pausing to make sure everyone has what they need. To Sunny he's given an entire pad of construction paper so she can continue making masterpieces if she wants (but he also has a beak stone in his pocket earmarked for whoever of Sunny and Drosera gets restless first). Gu Xiang gets a special collection of purple paints he'd found somewhere. The empty easel intended for Shen Yuan gets a precariously-placed water cup so he can knock it down to make his presence known.

When Magnus reaches Galahad, he watches him for a moment, then leans against him, resting his head on his shoulder. It's hard to sign like this but he makes do. Great aardvark.

Galahad tips his head back and smiles at Magnus; he puts his pencils down and signs Thank you.

Having fun?

Yes. A little overwhelmed, but it's okay.

Need anything?

Not yet. He pauses, and then turns to pull Magnus into a hug.

Magnus gives him a big bear hug in return, Galahad's sash crinkling between them. "I think everyone's having a good time."

"Good." Galahad glances around, at Mothwing and her inky paws, Lan Wangji's elegant brushstrokes, Sunny's exuberant crayon scribbles. Enjolras and Susan are by the takis, Gu Xiang and Tress are engaged in an animated conversation, and Gideon is stuffing candy into her pockets while Laertes fills out a scorecard with a slight frown of concentration. SecUnit is standing in a corner, looking -- well, honestly, Galahad has no idea, but he hopes it's all right. "Thank you."

"Love you, buddy."

"I love you too."

At some point during the drawing portion of Magnu's Galahad party Sunny runs over to Galahad to hand him the beautiful portrait she drew, signs Galahad, then runs off to go to some other sort of activity that does not require additional threads for the typists.

Susan knows that drawing isn't Laertes's strongest suit; she herself avoids painting, lest she make a fool of herself. When Magnus's interesting girlfriend(?) starts shifting into different animals, rather than attempt to recreate them visually, Susan shall go to strike up a conversation - with Laertes and, perhaps, Galahad - about what she remembers about each offering from her ethology classes and broader readings.

Tress's artistic skills are pretty much limited to rough technical schematics, but she does give the different animal forms at least a go.

Animals, even ones that are Alex in animal form, do tend to move a bit more than inanimate objects, however, so it's somewhat tricky. At least she gets the vague shapes and colors right.

The final activity for the tower proper is naming Mansion constellations. Conveniently, even though perhaps it might have been wiser to make this the last activity of the night, the sun has set remarkably early for the first night of summer. As such, it's dark enough to be able to see the bright ribbons and dots of stars in all their splendor.

Everyone will be able to use the telescope in turn, picking out clusters of stars and nominating names (and, maybe, explanations for why the name and combination of stars ought to be a constellation — this can involve making up a new mythology, if the attendees feel so inclined!), though of course using the naked eye is also an option. Ultimately, everyone present will vote on their favorite options. Surely there's no way for this to go wrong...

After giving up on drawing, fairly pleased with her results, Mothwing pads back over to Magnus to ask him about constellations.

"Will you tell me a little about what the stars mean to twolegs?" she asks. "To clan cats, they're the spirits of our warrior ancestors, though I suspect that's not literally true. We don't name constellations, though, so if you could tell me what it means to name one, I'd appreciate it."

"Um," says Magnus. "I think it's different based on, like, culture? The culture I come from," or at least one of them, "used the stars to navigate when they were sailing. And they told stories and myths based on different constellations. We -- me and Galahad -- were thinking we could make our own stories and myths and meaning here, for fun."

"I see," Mothwing meows thoughtfully. She thinks of the falling star sign that led the clans to their new territories, and about stories that elders tell kits. "Have you thought of any so far?"

"Nah, I figure something will come to me. Maybe when I hear the kinds of things other people are going for."

"If there's a cat, maybe we could call it Sasha," Mothwing suggests. "That's my mother. She was the first one to show me the way in life, anyway."

"That's a great idea, Mothwing," says Magnus earnestly. "I'm gonna look for a cat."

Sunny is starting to get pretty tired by this point of the evening, but she does take a few minutes to look at some of the stars through the telescope. She can't think of any good names though so she decides to let everyone else handle that business.

Should she happen to nod off at some point, she will wake to find Win sitting nearby, emitting just enough heat to offset the cool of night. SecUnit's information banks aren't sufficient to tell it whether any of these stars are the same as those in its own galaxy, and if not, it's not interested. So it sits quietly apart, rereading its stored books and occasionally checking to see if Sunny has choked to death or undergone a diaper explosion or whatever else might go wrong with infants.

Initially, Lan Wangji is silently occupied by wonder as he looks through the telescope. For every time that he has slept or walked or night-hunted beneath the stars, he has never seen them this jewel-bright and this close. He lingers as long as he feels is appropriate, trying not to take up such a quantity of time that it becomes rude.

He is, however, stymied by the naming portion of events. Naming the constellations as he understands the task would constitute dividing the entirety of their new sky into symbols, but that would require a consensus amongst the partygoers that he doubts is possible. He waits to see if Magnus will have a free moment to enlighten him.

Predictably(?), Magnus pops up at Hanguang-jun's side after he steps away from the telescope. "See anything promising?"

Pleased that he had to wait so little time, Lan Wangji looks fondly down at him. "They are beautiful."

"It's weird that there aren't any familiar constellations, though," says Magnus. "What ones did you grow up with?"

"There are too many to name." Unless Magnus would like to hear him recite several hundred constellations. "The twenty-eight mansions are divided into four symbols."

"Mansions?"

"The moon travels through each mansion during its journey around the earth. Each mansion contains multiple constellations."

"So a mansion is... like, a day?"

Edited 2024-08-26 04:04 (UTC)

"The moon enters a different mansion each night, yes."

Magnus considers this. "I don't know if I really understand," he says, apologetically. "Do you have a favorite constellation?"

Lan Wangji has never thought to pick a favorite. Each has its own significance and effect. He considers for a beat, then asks, "Do you?"

"Oh yeah, for sure. Me and mom used to name as many as we could, if we were camping and I couldn't fall asleep. The Big Dipper is a classic. The Norse called it, um. The man's chariot, I think? And the Little Dipper was the woman's chariot." He shrugs. "But mostly we'd make up new ones. Like... the Walking Stick. The Campfire. Big, bright ones I could use to figure out where I was if I got lost, you know? You take the Walking Stick toward the Campfire, and you end up at an exit off of I-93."

The moment it becomes obvious that this is a story featuring Natalie, Lan Wangji turns especially attentive. Using the stars to navigate is not novel, but the thought of a young Magnus and his mother devising new celestial landmarks together is. "Clever," he says, a little more softly. "Uncle only asked me to memorize those had already been named."

"Okay, so what's the first one you learned how to recognize?"

"The horn of the Azure Dragon," Lan Wangji says promptly.

"What's that one like?"

Lan Wangji recites the following, as if on cue: "The Azure Dragon is the eastern symbol. Its horn is accompanied by the flat road, celestial farmland, the recommended virtuous men, the tripod of the Zhou, the celestial gate, justice, the arsenal, the pillars, the railings, and the southern gate."

"The recommended virtuous men?????" Magnus blinks. "Are these all separate constellations, or is it a whole, like, starry panorama?"

"Those components all form the mansion of the horn." Lan Wangji considers for a beat. "It might be possible to find a chart in the library."

Magnus tucks himself against Lan Wangji's side. "I'd like that," he says. "For you to teach me your stars."

"And you teach me yours," Lan Wangji says, half suggestion and half directive. He puts his arm around Magnus' shoulders.

"Yeah, of course." Magnus smiles up at Hanguang-jun. "And we can make up some ones for here in the meantime."

"Mn." He darts a dubious glance at the telescope. "I'm uncertain where to begin. I am not often inspired when naming things."

"You start with a shape and then pick a story," says Magnus, wisely. "The name will follow."

Lan Wangji thinks about this, and he is contemplating it seriously. He does, however, glance down at Magnus with a tiny frown. "And if that leads me to naming several constellations Wei Ying?"

Okay, cute. Magnus grins up at him. "Dude-- um, sir-- um, Hanguang-jun, if I named the constellations here, like, 'the cheetah,' 'the penguin,' 'the aardvark'... or whatever... that would basically be me naming them all after Alex." He glances over to where Alex is currently in kangaroo form and failing to fit Sunny, who is much too large, into her pouch, and his smile softens.

"Mn," Lan Wangji says, warm acknowledgement of that truth and of how much Magnus loves Alex. He follows Magnus' gaze to her, then looks back down to him. "Perhaps each Wei Ying will need a Lan Zhan for company. As would each Alex need a Magnus."

Magnus laughs, touched. "A Hanguang-jun constellation and a Magnus constellation..." he says. "Maybe they can be, like. Next to each other?"

"They can," Lan Wangji says, equally charmed by the idea. He is charmed enough, in fact, that he pulls Magnus more tightly against his side for a moment, a decisively fond squeeze.

"Love you, Dad-guang-jun," says Magnus, half-quiet, half-impish. Then he jerks his head toward the telescope -- no one is using it at the moment. "Wanna find us?"

That little huff of breath may well be an indulgent laugh. "Mn." He takes his arm from around Magnus and nods to indicate that he should go first.

So Magnus does, searching around until he finds a promising patch of sky. Then he steps aside, gesturing Lan Wangji up. "Tell me what you think?"

Lan Wangji steps directly into the spot Magnus has vacated and fits his own face to the telescope with care not to jostle it from the formation of stars Magnus has selected. Taking this very seriously, of course, he contemplates this section of sky for a long moment. "Is that smaller cluster you? And the larger beside it is me?"

"I like that it looks like there's a star both constellations could share."

"Mn," Lan Wangji says, lingering there for a beat longer to look at the star and where it joins the two. Only then does he step neatly back. He takes Magnus' hand and presses it once, decisively, in his own, evoking that star.

And Magnus smiles up at him. "You get it," decisively.

This activity strikes an odd, pangy sort of chord. Oh, Susan is participating, and heartily, but it brings to mind lying in the open-air ruins of an ancient Cair Paravel, curled around Lucy in the dark of the night, picking out all the old constellations they recalled from their time ruling Narnia as the boys slept on the other side of the campfire. Half the Narnian constellations had been taught to them - by Mr Tumnus and Mrs Beaver and King Frank and even Rumblebuffin the friendly Giant, along with so many others. The other half, she and Lucy and Peter had named whilst adventuring through Narnia, before Edmund had been restored to them, as a way to soothe themselves from the dangers of the waning winter and the lingering grasp of the White Witch, trying to find familiar patterns and making up fresh stories when they couldn't.

In fact, in the first moment that Susan looks through the telescope, she seeks Alambil and Tarva - and even Coriakin and Ramandu, even though she's got the vaguest memory of Edmund and Lucy discussing (during the time that Susan rejected Narnia) that they were sent from the heavens after the Pevensie's reign. Of course, Alambil and Tarva are not there. Still, for a split second, she looks to Lucy to reminisce... but sees only Sunny, nodding off next to SecUnit. And instead of Edmund, of course, there's Galahad. She thinks to exchange a look with Laertes - surely he might understand the sudden, wild strike of this nameless feeling; he understand what it means to desperately miss a little sibling - but he's got Enjolras at his side, and she'd rather not deal with that.

So instead she presses her lips together, quiet, and wanders off to a window-notch so that she might stare into the dark expanse of trees instead of the bright spread of stars, and lets the fragrant fresh air blowing through ground her. She's glad to be around people right now, but feels sharply fragile, and will startle if anyone speaks to her.

Very early on, Tress spent a few weeks doing star charts for Janet, so she's not exactly unused to the night sky here, barring, of course, the shifting of stars over the seasons.

She only requests one constellation, though, and she picks out a relatively small grouping for it. And even if nobody ends up agreeing with it, she'll probably still think of it as the Rat, anyway.

Gideon waits until everyone else is done with the telescope before she takes her turn. For some reason she expects it to be comforting, looking out at the endless expanse of stars; if nothing else the idea that this is a planet, surrounded by a galaxy and, further out, a universe, and not some hallucinatory bubble offset from the familiar idea of the cosmos. And it's not like she recognized the constellations in the sky above Canaan House as those she'd studied in order to be able to take herself and her commandeered shuttle to the nearest Cohort outpost. But the fact that there isn't a single familiar star in that sky, that she can recognize red dwarfs and gas giants and super-puffs and planetoids and none of them her own terrible, insignificant little rock with its terrible, insignificant little people—it makes her feel some type of way, and she spends a long time in that feeling, guilt and discomfort, homesickness for a place she'd spent all her life longing to escape.

Then she wanders over to submit her nominations for names, which of course include Huge Rack, The Cool S, and Nightmare Blunt Rotation.

In the final segment of the evening, once everyone is sick of stars, it'll be time for everyone to make their way to the basement and, subsequently, Legoland. There's stations for all attendees — though, by this point, it's after Sunny's bedtime, and so Alex is going to turn into an enormous stork and carry her to Sagramore's cottage while everyone else starts making their way to the Mansion.

In addition to the earlier preparations (moving the freezer and the like), a bunch of Lego sets have been laid out so people can choose a specific project; there are also several bins full of assorted bricks for people who prefer to create organically. The rest of Legoland has been decorated with streamers and balloons; the freezer is clearly labeled, and when they get there, Magnus will start making bagel bites.

This is a great time for people to chat, eat the pastries and ice cream sandwiches Tress made, and build!

Edited 2024-08-22 20:18 (UTC)

This is maybe one of the more confusing places Mothwing's ever seen. Everything is made of smooth twoleg material, and looks like mouse-sized versions of real things. With a start, Mothwing recognizes a box with a picture of a clearing with a large stone in the middle, and four old oak trees at each corner. It's Fourtrees in miniature. It even has small versions of Blackstar, Leopardstar, Firestar and Tallstar sitting on top of the Great Rock. She sniffs it, hackles raised, wondering how it got here.

At this point in the night, Galahad is definitely flagging -- he's made friendly small talk with so many people, people he likes, but it's a lot, and he's starting to wish it were just him and Magnus.

The Legos, though, are a perfect antidote. Before long everyone is mostly working quietly at their own projects. Enjolras and Laertes are putting together a detailed reproduction of the Cathedral of Notre-Dame while deep in conversation, Gideon and Gu Xiang are fighting over individual Legos, Lan Wangji is so focused he might as well be meditating.

Galahad builds the mansion greenhouse set, which even has a tiny red-bellied black snake to hang in a lemon tree. When he stops to eat one of the ice cream sandwiches, he realizes that his hands aren't shaking any more. He feels calm. He feels happy.

As Galahad builds, he'll notice a stray minifig head start rolling across his workspace til it hits into a long black hair piece, which it clicks into, and then several green-clad arms float over and click into a torso, and then legs, until a little green-clad lego man stands in front of him and gives him a little clunky wave.

Galahad's eyes widen and his fingers curl against his palms so he doesn't reach for the minifig.

The minifig half-walks, half-floats over to his hand and taps at it with a tiny hooked arm, like, it's okay. Its little plastic face doesn't change, of course, but there's a feeling of a smile in the air, anyway.

Edited 2024-09-02 18:46 (UTC)

So this time he opens his palm for the minifig. "Shen Yuan."

Minifigs can't nod, so this one bends at the waist a couple times in confirmation. At the same time, there's a phantom hand tucking Galahad's hair behind his ear fondly.

"You came," Galahad says, so, so flat.

SecUnit is, for the most part, sitting this one out as well, but the general quiet is a relief to it too. It wanders the perimeter, looking at the models, some of which are cool and some just creepy. (It is NOT investigating the box which depicts, from under the other boxes stacked on top of it, a lot of black and gray blocks and the letters "p e r".)

Enjolras is certainly very intrigued by all the lego sets. --And the ice cream sandwiches. He chooses one and nibbles on it whilst perusing the boxes, until he spots one with a very familiar name and place attached to it. He will, he thinks, save that one for later, and places the box to the side with the rest of his things. Instead, he selects another Parisian landmark -- Notre-Dame de Paris, which he regards with some fondness before heading to Laertes to settle in and put it all together.

The night already feels strangely heavy for a celebration; when Susan sees the Stone Table picked out in plastic blocks, she fears she might actually start crying. She stares at it for a long moment, her heart in her throat, reaching out to skate her hands a scant half-inch from the surface but never quite bringing herself to touch it.

When she selects a block set to build, she chooses something utterly unrecognizable, thoroughly different from anything she's seen before, and she follows the included instructions slowly, carefully, not once glancing back. Her hands are steady; her face betrays nothing. She'll chat pleasantly with the girls building next to her. She remembers the dryads who lived in those trees, is the thing. She remembers when the mice ate through Aslan's bindings, and the pilgrimages she and Lucy would make every year as queens in the hopes that Aslan would come back, and when they had the council of war against Caspian's uncle.

The ice cream sandwiches taste heavenly. She looks forward to sneaking one back to Lancelot at the end of the night, and letting him coax her from the quiet that has settled deep in her bones.

Edited 2024-08-29 05:44 (UTC)

When Tress sees the box set that is a remarkably creditable representation of her ship, her eyes widen to what feels nearly like the size of the moons at home. She knows that if she builds it here, she'll just start crying, so she sets it carefully to the side for now, her portrait from Galahad resting on top of the box, and she moves to the assorted bricks to start putting together whatever calls to her.

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