Holiday Mingle~

[killerwaves]

Tis the Seasun

Do you remember what it was like to get your first postcard? Maybe you don't, maybe you never got one at all, but no matter where you are, no matter WHEN you are, you'll find a particularly festive one slipped under your door, pillow, accompanied by a tinny meow.


Maybe that rings more familiar.

Should you check the RSVP box YES on the back, you'll find youself whisked away to the nebula of the island you once called home. It's still purple and spacey, but there's holiday decorations to be had through the work of some festive cat bots that have whirred to life since your last visit. Yes, there's at least a few palm trees adorned with lights inspiring some type of cheer.

Since you're already here, why not catch up with your fellow islanders? As always, there's food for you to enjoy courtesy of the catbots, and there's even tasks if you feel like doing them for old times sake (or for the cool swag). There might even be a new face or two in the crowd, interdimensional invitations are a bit tricky to wrangle even if you're not a repurposed kittybot.

!

TASKS:

Someone's kissing—
There's mistletoe here, mistletoe there, there's mistletoe everywhere all at once due to the portals, so get smooching!

Naughty or Nice?
Tell someone about what you've been up to and let them decide whether you were naughty or nice this year. Stickers included☆

Gingerbread Dreams
Put all that gingerbread to good use and build your own vacation home. Or eat it.

REWARD FOR ALL TASKS: Killer merchandise from the "island's" official sponsor✨.

((OOC: Happy Holidays, have a holiday mingle! In addition to anyone played in Last Resort, if you'd like to bring another character for shenanigans, have at it! This mingle is open to anyone in the LR server in keeping with the cozy island vibe. ))

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help. she knows how to make an entrance

[idologue]

[ This is... well, it's startling. Between the completely unfamiliar physical appearance and the... is mistletoe edible? It's not edible, is it?

Actually, even asking that question gives away who she's dealing with, doesn't it? And it's only the blink of an eye until the 'nickname' confirms it. Where Lacus had been blinking in confusion before, she breaks into a smile. ]

Alecto. It felt like way too long to me.

[ She really looks nothing like Nona now - but then, Nona never looked like Nona either, did she? Whoever Harrow is, she's far more of a stranger to Lacus than Alecto is. ]

Is this your own body?

[thefirsthouse]

[Of course it felt like too long to the Lake. She is a little baby freshly out of the womb. She isn't even a century old yet.]

'Tis a hideousness.

[She says harshly and immediately.]

My own body is the sweet dirt and the delicious rock, the bark and the tree, the worms, the flies, the cities carved from my bones and the magnificent roots beneath my crust.

This is what I have been reduced to. A doll. A barbie girl in a barbie world.

[idologue]

[ Talking to Alecto is always a little sad, both for who Alecto is and for who Nona was. Nona and not Nona. A precious friend. ]

It won't cast you out, then.

[ That is the minimum one should expect from a body, in any case. Lacus understands and yet doesn't understand the feelings one might have about living in a doll body. As an idol whose appearance is marketing, whose existence is propaganda, whose name has long ceased to refer to the girl within... But not as a planet, not as something so old and so powerful, trapped quite literally in her form.]

And it's a good size to greet you properly.

[ That's the only genuine upside Lacus can think of, but it's a decent one.

Alecto is getting a hug. ]

[thefirsthouse]

[She can see the grief in the Lake's eyes. The sadness she saw in Palamades and Camilla even before they died and became something new, leaving her alone. She remembers Lacus, from the period where she was something else. Lacus never wanted her to be anyone but herself.

Anyone but... Nona. The name is a distant memory, despite having only been less than a blink ago. Were she in her body, it would've been less time than it took her to spin. Why does the feeling feel hollow and raw?

Alecto hates being touched. She hates being in a body that people look at with desire and lust. She hates being Annabel Lee. But she can smell the Little Lake's hair. She thinks she wants to eat it. All of her. Consume her and hear and feel her bones snap and crunch. That is, after all, how meat loves meat. Instead, she awkwardly returns the hug and squeezes her.]

Do you mourn for me still?

[And then, treasonously, a small part of her feeling slips out from her perfect teeth. A feeling she cannot understand. A lie she can never stop telling.]

I still love you.

[idologue]

[ A returned hug is better than Lacus expected! She lingers in it for a little, because however unfamiliar Alecto looks and however many layers of despair Nona is wrapped in, they're still friends. Lacus hadn't been as sure of that back when they parted, showed more uncertainty than she now feels is warranted, but she's had time to think a lot on it since then.

Alecto isn't Nona, but Nona is a part of her, was born from her. That is all that really matters. ]

I love you too.

[ It's only after the sentiment has been properly returned that Lacus lets go. ]

And... A little? I miss you. I miss the person you could be when you were happier - because I want you to be happy and because I liked spending time with her, for myself. But I'm to see you too. I'm glad you came here.

[ Holiday cheer! ]

Did the mistletoe taste good?

[thefirsthouse]

[She smiles in a grotesque and almost comedic approximation of a smile. Like she's staring into Lacus' soul (she is, it's so warm, she could snuff it out in an instant) and like she's baring her teeth in a cartoonish grimace.]

I am a creature of grief. Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep. Happiness was a dream I had whilst I drifted, unsure of my grief. You are not the only one to wish I could be happy. My siblings do, despite being the same as I am. My necromancers do, despite having done this to me. My Anastasia did, even though she was my jailor. Even John did, and he loved me so terribly that he turned me into a hideousness.

I am... still glad I could see you. I am glad I can remember how it felt to be near you.

[She looks around, at all the Christmas decorations, the sands, the grass, the furniture. She remembers Christmas mornings, parents sneaking presents under a tree, little children with little fingers and toes pretending to sleep while containing their excitement. Eggnog, stockings, cheap imitations of a fat man in a collection of consumerism, awkward photos, family dinners, too much poison in the bloodstream. Now it's gone. All gone. Dead under the weight of nuclear fire.]

Nothing tastes good. But I remember the crunch of it, so it was nice. It was once part of my branch, of my root, of my body. Now it is in my hideous belly.

Did you stand under it hoping to have lips against your flesh?