Logs:For God, who rules over all things, has made this day to be a joy for his chosen people instead of a day of destruction for them.
| For God, who rules over all things, has made this day to be a joy for his chosen people instead of a day of destruction for them. | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | purim 5782 "I wonder how myths were really just. Mutants." |
| Location
<NYC> House of Yes Rooftop - Brooklyn | |
Inside, the Purimspiel is still going strong, if by strong you mean drunkenly and stumblingly through the final Megillah reading to the ending dance party. Not that there had not been dancing before, and not that the drunken rowdiness was a flaw. One young rabbi, only recently ordained, had spent a good deal of time at the beginning extolling the mitzvah of getting shitfaced, before ceremoniously giving the blessing over wine, dropping a shot of vodka into it, and throwing the whole thing back like it was a real bomb shot and not her own dubiously holy invention. This was one of many creative additions to the “traditional” Purimspiel made tonight, including a electro-kelzmer band, a burlesque beauty pageant to replace Vashti, and incredible circus acrobatics throughout that made less and less narrative sense but were more and more astounding. Vegan and gluten-free hamantaschen have almost completely disappeared from the food station, the ones remaining looking more like bloody ears than neat little hats but taste just as good as the others. Outside, on the venue patio, tables have been set up for people to sit and rest their feet, get fresh air, and cool down from the thrumming warmth inside. This is where Kitty is now, sipping intermittent at a bottle of water and nibbling on an apricot filled cookie. Kitty, having drunk her way through her anxiety-driven self-consciousness out the other side of the burlesque performance, has reassembled most but not all of the pieces of her Miss Frizzle costume — the cuffs are still not attached to any sleeve and hang off her wrist like floppy bracelets. Her red wig was long ago lost to the dance floor, and her makeup has begun to smear from sweat. None of this stops her from clapping one hand over her companion’s arm, babbling on: “ — No of course like the actual Maccabees existed at a completely different time but the, the, the, whatsit the vibe is the same so why couldn’t there be a crossover story like a crossover holiday halfway between Hanukkah and Purim it just makes thematic sense!” Her eyes are wide and earnest about this. “Latke hamantaschen. You put, you put the applesauce inside the latke. It’s perfect.” Joshua, slightly wobbly on his feet, is just filtering out of the Megillah reading, a glass of something bright and blue in one hand. He's dressed in a weathered brown robe, a dark cap on his head and a bushy long beard spirit-gummed onto his face which only serves to accentuate its customary droop. He teeters his way over to collapse into an empty chair, sipping at his fizzy blue drink and tipping his head curiously at Kitty's earnest rambling. "Applesauce in the latke would be revolutionary." His brows scrunch after this, his eyes gone a bit squinty with the expression. "But I think that would be a serious clash of vibes. Holiday built for arguing." He admittedly does not say this as if it is a negative. Leo is beside Kitty, a little flushed around the cheeks but otherwise mostly steady. He's switched from wine to water some time back and is cradling his plastic cup like he's afraid he might lose it if he sets it down. He's continued on Kitty's Science Nerd Theme, Bill Nye to her Miss Frizzle in a blue labcoat over white button-down, khakis, a slightly crooked red bow tie. His eyes dart between Kitty and Joshua, a bit wider than usual. "I don't --" he admits, with an awkward half-smile, "know what's -- well. This vibe seems to be a lot -- more than what I've -- seen of Hannukah. Um. Who were the Maccabees again?" "Latmantaschen. Hamanatka. As long as I can put ketchup on it. In it!" Alma is dressed in a gauzy tattered tan robe over an intricate and futuristic-looking body suit in shades of gray, the whites of her eyes an almost luminous blue. Though her cup is empty at the moment, she's clearly been observing the holiday vigorously on the intoxication front. "Hah! Revolutionary." She tilts slightly in her seat to direct her comment to Leo, "Ancient Jewish revolutionaries. Maccabees were." Her hand flails moderately in Joshua's direction "But you see, I disagree! What if -- the vibes are complementary." Her acrobatic part in the spiel over, Wendy is late in catching up on the boozing but has now seated herself on the edge of the table with a vodka-cranberry close at hand, nibbling delicately at a poppyseed hamentash whose crumbs she is trying carefully to catch in her hands and not on the ruffled square-necked blouse of her Emma Goldman outfit. "Ancient murderous Jewish fanatics," she answers Leo just a half-beat after Alma. "The vibes would be chaotic." Polaris has doffed her antlered headgear and wrapped her green cape around herself where she's huddled in a chair beside Wendy, only the glittery green starburst painted over her right eye and the plush quail perched on her shoulder giving her away as Hades's take on Artemis at the moment. Her bow and quiver (and the very fake antlers) are leaning against a nearby potted ficus. She's been less boisterous than is usual for her, and though altered herself altered in a languid sort of way. "The vibes are already chaotic." This also does not sound like a negative from her, and her joyful realization after this is shockingly calm, "Wait, are the vibes getting more chaotic? I'm ready." Marinov's costume is of one of the prominent chorus fae from the musical Lost!, though of an unavoidably more feline persuasion than most depiction. They have styled the spots and stripes around their face with colour to at least evoke the same kind of makeup that their character would wear on stage. Their eyes are a little glassier than normal, though still bright, and their voice has an undertone of rumbling that they would normally suppress, had drink not complicated this process. "Sometimes clashing and complementing, it's not so different, you know?" they comment, and then lean back and point both fingers in Wendy's direction to vigorously agree, "Chaos is good! It's good!" Kitty squeezes Leo’s arm once more before letting go to nibble at her cookie again. “Yessssss. Lamantashkes. Ooh. Or. What if you deep-fry the cookie.” She seems less convinced about this on the spot culinary invention than the previous. “Is that a thing?” She nods along with the history lesson and the additional vibe assessments, sipping lightly on her water and only swaying in her seat moderately. “Chaotic arguing is half of every holiday anyway, we just gotta up the precen — the pertage — the ratio to full chaos arguing and bingo! New anti-assimilation chag.” Pleased that she’s made her case, Kitty flops against Leo’s side. "The Maccabees would have slaughtered Esther's people." Joshua is leaning slightly forward in his seat now, eyes wide and a new intensity in his tone. "They wanted a strict Jewish homeland in Eretz Yisrael. Esther's story is about adapting when necessary to keep Jews safe in diaspora. The vibes. Would be a fight." His brows knit briefly. "But a fight with great food." "Deep fried Oreos are a delight. Deep fried hamentashen would be a glory." Wendy pops the last of her cookie into her mouth, delicately wiping a crumb from the corner of her lips with a thumb. "Oh no. Now I'm imagining this whole -- battle -- enacted like we're some kind of Jewish SCA." She gestures loosely with her water towards the others around the table. Stops with it pointing toward Joshua, her eyes narrowing on his outfit. "Who are you, you already look very Historical." It's hard to say how much Leo is following all this, though his expression is very earnestly intent. "Esther fought the Maccabees," he repeats with a determination that suggests he's committing it to memory. "And now we are having a food fight over it." His eyes flutter open wider when Kitty collapses against his side, and his flush deepens as he curls his arm around her shoulders. Alma looks faintly skeptical about the prospect of deep fried cookies -- or very possibly just skeptical about the cup she's just lifted to find empty. "Chaotic arguing is half our religion... culture...religiture." She's so pleased with that portmanteau she momentarily loses the thread of the conversation, such as it is. "No no, I don't think it's a food fight." Then she lowers her voice to a not-quite-conspiratorial stage whisper. "Wait...is it a food fight? A costumed food fight. You all are going down if we start chucking things." She picks her cup back up. "Except Kitty, but I think she's already down for the count." "Pertensage," says Marinov, trying to help Kitty to find the word, and stating such with enough confidence that one might mistake it for certainty. Their eyes widen slightly at the mention of a food fight, "I don't want to get messy..." They brush their hands over their clothes self-consciously, before rumbling, "Mmm, I guess if it is a religitural renactment... maybe there is someone who hides under a table..." "Under the table is an important role. Someone needs to chronicle the battle for -- for posterity." Wendy's question almost draws a smile out of him. His eyes glow faintly, and a wreath of fire -- extremely realistic looking but thankfully lacking any heat past a faint warmer tingle -- flares to life around Wendy. "Rashbi coming out of his cave." The false fire stays crackling as he sips at his drink, heedless of the startled reactions from those not sitting at Freak Table. "No m'not," Kitty mumbles into Leo's lab coat, presumably trying to counter Alma's point. "I can still -- dodge. Phase. Go ghosty. Take you too --" this is directed at Marinov with one flappy arm, "-- then no mess! For our very important battle recorder." She tilts her head up to see the flames, delighted. "Rashbi! He was -- isn't he the one with the Moses sword? I think he's the sword one. Is he the sword one?" Wendy lets out a startled eep when she's abruptly aflame, blushing deeply when the fire fails to consume her. Her hand lifts, fingers dancing through the illusory flames. "That's -- how long can you --" She's derailed from whatever her question was going to be by replying to Kitty, "Laser eyes. -- I wonder how myths were really just. Mutants." Sitting at the freak table does not stop Polaris being startled. She jumps to her feet and only realizes the nature of the flameless flames when she reaches for Wendy through them. "Harsh, but pretty!" she declares, impressed. "Oh shit I wrote a paper about that? I got in so much trouble. Not -- Rashbi, the um." Despite her denial, she flails a hand in Joshua's direction. "History. With the mutants. Mutant historical revisionism." Joshua's eyes (still glowing faintly red) dart immediately to Leo at the mutant/myth question. He blushes a moment later, looking down instead at his drink. "Do know a lot of -- pretty fantastical people." His brows wrinkle thoughtfully. "Trouble? With who? What'd you do, say Jesus was actually..." He trails off here, brief, soon after deciding: "I know so many people. Who've come back from the dead. Zero of them declared themselves the messiah." Leo stiffens when Joshua's gaze darts to him, relaxing only after another sip of water. "Jesus," he starts, but then subsides with a small frown, redirecting instead to a slightly envious: "None of our saints have laser eyes. Anyway I think if someone was a mutant it was Solomon, they say he got his wisdom straight from the --" Here he hesitates, brows wrinkling as he thinks over a flaw in this myth: "-- wait, how wise do we think birds are?" Marinov nods, assuaged that they can avoid getting messy, and to Kitty, says with their hand over their chest, "Thank you for making me invisible to getting hit by stuff." Their eyes become transixed on the false fire, fascinated. "I wouldn't declare myself the messiah if I came back from life, but I would seek a book deal... which I guess is exactly what Je--" They blink a couple of times, and their currently unblinking gaze turns to Leo. "Birds are real wise. You ever seen their eyes?" "Birds," Wendy declares confidently, "are not real." Kitty has very little to say on the subject of Jesus, except, "Walking on water is hard I've been working on that trick since high school and I keep falling." Kitty leans up to sip at her water again, falls back into the crook of Leo's arm. "S'true. Physics has never proven. Birds." "It was Saint Francis -- the crazy one, not the boring one. Didn't go over too well with religion teacher...or the parental units." Polaris sinks back down into her seat and leans against Wendy's side. "Bird conspiracy runs deep. But honestly that dude had hella powers. Metamutant." "Being a metamutant doesn't matter a bit unless you surround yourself with --" Joshua gestures toward the others around the table. The flames are fading out, now, his eyes settling back to their usual brown. "Wonder what stories our descendants will tell about us." | |
