I’ve traveled all this way for something

[maskormods]

WHO: YOU.
WHERE: Eden East's cruiseship
WHEN: Saturday February 15th, around 5 PM EST
WHAT: Registration in motion... among other things.
WARNINGS: None anticipated; let us know if this should be edited.

" The new frontier of which I speak is not a set of promises -- it is a set of challenges. It sums up not what I intend to offer the American people, but what I intend to ask of them. It appeals to their pride, not to their pocketbook -- it holds out the promise of more sacrifice instead of more security. But I tell you the new frontier is here, whether we seek it or not. "
( from jfk's speech "the new frontier," 7/15/1960. )

The sun hasn't set yet and the temperature hovers somewhere just below 70 degrees this evening; imPorts, both recently arrived and not, will have been escorted to this event so that they can meet each other, have a good time, and of course officially state their registration status. Or lack thereof. It's your decision, they emphasize, even though the unspoken "but" is always there.

It's an elaborate spread, certainly much more elegant than last time. Eden East herself, elegant in her backless champagne-colored dress, meets and greets each and every imPort as she flutters to and fro. She'll find you and chat for a few moments, shaking your hand and complimenting your dress. She'll know your name, and she'll have an entourage of aids and cameras following her wake. Captain Holiday, in contrast, maintains the energy of someone who feels out of place holding the Swear-In ceremony somewhere so extravagant. As imPorts arrive he tells them where to be for the ceremony part of the evening, but that they are free to enjoy themselves until then and after.

( Please state your character's official status -- REGISTERED or UNSETTLED -- in the subject header of your thread. Characters who are UNDECIDED may be contacted later in the week for their decision via their IC contact post. )

Comments

THE BUFFET ROOM

[mmnpcs]

In this golden and black lacquered long rectangular room rests the buffet. There won't be any sitting and dining -- while this engagement has all the airs of something formal, the glitz simply isn't the point. There's a purpose behind the glamor, and Captain Holiday would simply not budge on wasting time with the four course meal that Eden wanted. Oh well, maybe next time.

Under a field of crisp white linen lurk forty tables in a row. It's a feast worthy of a Roman emperor, a dinner armed with anything from pickled pig's feet to tiramisu. Right in the middle is a giant crystal punch bowl, and every other hour the tint of the punch will change (from red to orange to yellow to green, aptly following the order of that color spectrum). Along the further left end there's a section roped off (with red velvet) and guarded by a bouncer. That's the adult end, where champagne, liquor, and "traditional" vermouth (oh, Eden) tempt those of age. To the left of the bar and angled along the side wall are two heavy doors, barring off the smoking room.

For cigarettes, hookah, and questionably attained cigars. Maybe another of Eden's parties (one without governmental observance) will push the envelope more.

Anna | Undecided | OTA

[cardea]

To say she was concerned was putting it lightly. An hour ago, she'd been falling off a cliff. Half an hour ago, she'd been in a weird room with a weird person getting the sum of why she was here- oh, and that she had magic. Like, Elsa magic, expect in reverse. Then, ten minutes ago, she'd been brought here. Anna was just glad that, while she might be sweating her heart out, at least she had a nice dress on. Even if nothing else made sense she was representing Arendelle in this foreign land. Anna took small consolation in the fact she still looked a princess in her winter get up (with the cloak gone, long since gone, or she'd be passed out on the ground).

So, ten minutes ago she came here and heard the speech. Five minutes after that, she located and staunchly planted herself next to the chocolate reserves. Swear loyalty to a whole new kingdom or be....what? Homeless, alone? She frowned as she bit into a brownie, thinking things out. She'd figured the next party she'd attend after Elsa's coronation would be her own wedding, not this. She just...she wasn't sure what to do.

She gave a small, dramatic sigh between bites.

"I really can't be here right now."

[malodorous]

Kristoff was decidedly unfit for this whole thing. The huge ship, the insane luxuries, the people... It was like the whole thing was constructed to remind him how outside he was. Two days hadn't been enough for him to get his head on straight, and this place kept throwing new loops at him. He'd decided to try and counter the feeling of being intensely uncomfortable with eating, only to find the dining area to be... Also insanely lavish.

But that didn't matter for long, really. A skeptical scan of the room brought a familiar face into view, and he practically started. He had to weave around a few people, but he reached her as quickly as possibly, keeping his eyes on her like she might disappear somehow.

"Anna!" He stopped short of reaching out to touch her, just to check her temperature, to make sure she was as healthy as she looked. "You're-- Are you okay?"

[mmnpcs]

[ Joining Anna's side is a tall woman in uniform, one that the young princess will recognize from her brief venture on base and through the labs when she had been brought to Cape Canaveral. Her smile is wide, with big pearly teeth and a friendly demeanor as she approaches Anna. ]

You're looking a little blue, ma'am. Seasick?

[iampretty]

After dancing for a while, Hans had wandered into the buffet room for a drink or two. He's wandering towards the punch when he spots Anna, smiling in her general direction.

Wait what?

The reality that his fiancee is here (here!!!) in Heropa (not in Arendelle!!!) sets in like a punch to the face. Hans's expression rapidly shifts from content at the punch to confusion at seeing his fiancee to excitement at seeing his fiancee. He's got to put up appearances, after all. He needs to look happy that he's seeing her here, despite the fact that he's confused beyond belief (why is she here???).

All things considered though, it's great that she's alive. Considering that he was heading off on a rescue mission to find her when he was rudely brought here, the fact that his fiancee is alive, breathing and decidedly not ice meant a lot to Hans and his soon-to-be kingdom.

"Anna!" he yelled, waving towards her as he abandoned the punch bowl and practically ran to her side. "You're here!" Why is she here? "You're here and you're safe! Not frozen or hurt or anything like that, oh I'm so glad you're not hurt!" Yes, he was rambling. But that was what she'd want to see: Hans, her happy, charming, wonderful fiancee who was half of the whole.

[dragony]

"It'll be over soon enough."

The voice comes from Anna's left, from the girl picking at one of the fruit platters—small wedges of melon on tiered trays, plucked gently. She looks, in a word, weird: unnatural color of green hair, a left arm bare of all but a bracelet, but her right completely wrapped up with a bandage and a ribbon: anchored with a gold ring, it ties around her wrist, and then covers her arm completely up to the elbow. Okay the dress looks fine, and the coiled wire pendant for her necklace is a little unusual, but then she turns her head and hey-o, one eye, one big gold-colored eye patch covering where the other should be.

At least when she smiles in greeting, it looks friendly enough, even if it doesn't dazzle like the sun.

"You're not going to miss anything."

[retropolis]

Of many things Nelson could understand it was Anna's sentiment, and even more so her expression of it. He was guilty of stress-eating and chocolate could be a particular vice -- all that had kept him from helping himself to anything tonight was his own concern over getting motion sick once the boat began to move.

"Sorry," he said to her, an expression of sympathy. He was a clean-cut, non-threatening sort of man; it was not disingenuous. "None of us are supposed to be, but as far as I know the only way home is simple luck of the draw. It isn't all bad."

[detriments]

"A little late for that, don't you think."

Christine's smile was sweet, despite the slight sting in her words. She had little patience for people who waffled on their purpose here, who waffled on whether or not they belonged, and this girl had just that written all over her expression. Mediocrity really didn't flatter anyone, no matter how pretty they were.

"Relax," She looked away, still serene and seemingly helpful, "Enjoy the food. You'll feel better."

Archer | Undecided | open to all!

[swordedpast]

He has no desire to be here. He failed to be at Rin's side until the end. He's a miserable excuse for a hero in the first place. So how stupid is it that he's now supposed to stand around on a cruise ship getting sworn in officially as a hero? Don't they know that, miserable or not, he's still more of a real hero than any of the pathetic costume-wearers around here?

Never mind that his usual costume is every bit as ridiculous as a proper superhero's.

Right now, though, Archer is dressed plainly but semi-formally in a grey vest and dress slacks, white dress shirt, and red tie, and he's doing his best to blend in. He may not want to be here, but he needs to make sure nothing terrible happens. So he's inspecting the food and drink around the buffet, casually touching the tables and plates and trying to detect whether there's anything off about them.

He's not picking up anything unusual, so he has to pretend he has some other, less savory purpose here. That's how he winds up voicing needless complaints about the quality of the fine and fancy food in his grumpiest voice. "Are you serious? The duck fetus in this balut is almost fully developed. What a disgrace. Do you want guests to be spitting out a mouthful of feathers?"

[blue_pheasant]

Kuzan didn't have to dress up special at all to come to the party. He wore his regular white suit, complete with a formal vest and tie. Still, he heard someone complaining in a tone that could match his own, so effort did come into play eventually. He leaned over Archer's shoulder with a bored expression, unconcerned that he was likely in someone's business when he didn't need to be.

"Ara? Why not just get a plate of eggs, instead?"

[fingerbang]

[ Really, Lust has no room to judge; as Archer is surveying the food for his own reasons, she's doing the very same thing to the punch, if less vocally and sans altruism. That people are willingly consuming something that inexplicably changes color strikes her as, if not foolish, a little too trusting -- like animals crowding to the trough. Of course, her own experience is likely colored by all those drinks she totally hasn't poisoned back in Amestris, ha ha ha. Regardless, she raises her eyebrows his way once she hears the comment. ]

A true miscarriage of justice, [ she says, deadpan. It's not even clear whether the awful pun is intended or not! (Lust has no sense of humor; it wasn't.) ] It's a comfort to know we have someone looking out for the interests of the people, even in a place like this.

Kenzi | Unsettled | OTA

[heartstings]

Kenzi had been lucky enough to have at least one nice dress to wear to an event such as this and she was even more lucky to find her bag where she'd left it when she flew off after returning. She'd packed in such a hurry when leaving the Clubhouse she hadn't bothered to pack much but at least she'd grabbed something nice. She'd put in the effort to make herself look like she cared about all this even though she didn't. She'd managed to find some earrings that somewhat matched her engagement ring, although she was fairly certain they were fake. The real shame was not being able to find a necklace to match it all.

The speech had been pretty much blown off, she had no interest in doing anything for these people, she hadn't at the start and certainly wasn't up for it now. She was only here for the party aspect of the evening.

Once they were free she headed straight for the dining room and loaded up a plate with whatever looked tasty and was nibbling away at it while sipping on whatever liquor she could get. Honestly she wasn't that hungry she just needed something to keep her occupied.

Maybe later she'd dance or go up on deck but for now she was going to stuff her face and get a little tipsy, if not flat out drunk, and mingle.

Ace | Registered | ota

[ifnotloyal]

[ There isn't much of a choice for Ace as far as registering or not goes. Life as a stray isn't kind and, while he doesn't need a job to survive (that part confuses him a little, to be honest), the idea that they might send him back to a shelter instead isn't a fun one. Even if they don't explicitly threaten that, there's no way to know for sure. Their handling of him might vary greatly from their handling of the human imPorts. He'd lucked out on a second family back home, sure, but who'd want a talking dog as a pet? Especially one that's already proven to be disloyal to these people here?

So, Ace, being a good dog, agreed to register.

Now he's camped out at the end of a buffet table, watching people go by with his tongue lolling out and looking hopefully at everyone who walks by with something. He's just enough out of the way to be bypassed, but also in plain view in case anyone wants to, you know, feed him stuff off the table. See, he's too polite and well-trained to jump up and get it for himself. ]

Valeria Richards | Registered | Open

[smarterthandad]

[Val, in her adorable pink dress, white tights, and shiny black Mary Janes, does not care about registering. She took the oath without complaint, and it if becomes inconvenient later, she'll break it without compunction.

Meanwhile, she's pushed a side chair up so she can reach the buffet table conveniently without displaying her force field powers, and is loading her plate with fruit and chocolate. Priorities.]

For Frank Castle:

[Val's been keeping an eye out for him, the one person here whose opinion on registration she knows for a rock-solid fact. After shaking off the other adults who are milling about, she vanishes, quite literally, behind the buffet table, using her mother's powers to make herself invisible so she can work her way around the room to the side of his wheelchair where it's less likely anyone will see her talking to her universe's most notorious vigilante.

Then she pops back into view. If he overreacts to suddenly having a child at his elbow, oh well, that's what the force field part of her powers is for.]

You're Frank Castle.

manaka sajou | registered | ota

[beastofasister]

[Manaka, dead as she is, neither requires food and drink nor particularly enjoys it. Still, she's here to put on a good face and seem normal, and though she doubts anyone will be paying much attention to her in particular, she doesn't want to take risks when the presence of cameras and reporters is so ubiquitous. For someone not to eat once over the course of this multi-hour affair— Well, that'd be a little odd, wouldn't it? People eat even when they aren't hungry, if the food looks good.

And the food does look good. It makes it easier for Manaka to fill her plate up—though, with the way she gravitates toward the dishes she finds most visually appealing, most of her dinner winds up being dessert. Truly, this is the best meal for a growing girl.]

Kuzan | Registered | OTA

[blue_pheasant]

The food was a bit too fancy for him and the liquor was a little on the expensive side, but he could hardly complain about any of that. Rather, the moment he found a little steak and whiskey, Kuzan found himself set. Nevermind that he was old enough to have an old man's tastes, nor the fact that his physician told him to get ready to lay off of red meat in the near future--he didn't much care for being overly cautious. After eating, Kuzan wandered around with a rocks glass half-full of whiskey, chilled by ice coating the bottom of it, stuck to his palm.

When he got bored with wandering, he stopped and found a nice chair on the outside of the room to sit in, leaning back. Though it was comfortable, Kuzan still bore the burden of height as he was too tall for the back of the chair to touch his neck. Instead, he crossed his legs and leaned forward, looking even more bored with himself despite the fact that he was actually enjoying himself. Luxury and splendor like that was almost never afforded to him. Sengoku would offer tea once in awhile, but he was hardly hospitable when all he did was give him orders.

So, Kuzan took the chance to relax--eventually slipping his sleeping mask in front of his eyes so he could sleep right then and there.

Loki | Registered | Open

[selfimage]

The things that could be tactlessly and casually tucked into his pocket were. A cigars, some choice truffles, and even a few of strips of tasty bacons. Loki thought of it more like a flat-fee buffet where, in order to save some food for later, napkin-wrapped cookies were placed into handbags for later pickings.

(Everything smelled really good. He never remembered things like this ever really appealing to him—but they did. It wasn't like the feasts in Asgard, catered with full lambs, honey-roasted greens and kegs of mead. No, this was a bit of everything.)

There were a few that he recognized, and some that he managed to conveniently disappear from when they caught sight of him. It was important that he keep his opportunities open, but there were some things that ... well, he wasn't exactly willing to face again.

Chewing on one of his newly obtained strips of bacon, he passes the punch bowl and heads to the bar to see what they had available. Something expensive, sweet and topped with a little umbrella.

As if he could stand out more than he did.

max lord | registered | open

[retconman]

Barely even here half a day and there was already a party. Pretending it was in his honor helped Max set aside his anger and confusion long enough to get properly outfitted in a pink suit, tie, and vest (forgoing the jacket so that the black dress shirt he wore beneath the vest was visible, formal but casual) and polished oxfords, because rather than trying something subtle, Max felt it better to make an impression. Stand out. He wanted to insert himself into the thick of things so as to better understand them... and a little flashiness never hurt anyone.

By the look of his wrist, there would be no hiding here. Not really. He'd arrived with bare feet and no shirt, his face coated with blood after he'd pushed his powers past anything they'd ever been used for previously; for all he knew he might be vulnerable now if he'd done something wrong. No, not wrong; if he'd overextended. That couldn't be why he was here, could it? He didn't know, but he would find out. Being proactive about answers would be his greatest asset now.

Entering the buffet room as if he owns the place, big smile in place, Max whistles a charming Sinatra tune to himself as he strolls over to admire the spread. The alcohol gets a pass, but he accepts a cigar.

Kate Bishop | Undecided | Open

[selfequipped]

"They really went all out." The words don't sound like they're full of wonder, but Kate isn't pretending that she hasn't been to an event like this before; as far as she can see, there's no point in pretending that. A certain level of social gracelessness would need to be a part of her front, and she's not particularly interested in doubling up right now. Pretending that she's truly undecided does enough.

Although she's wearing gloves (her shiny new powers necessitate it), she tugs one off as she begins to head toward the food, taking in what everyone else is up to at the moment. If anyone is doing anything strange or not taking well to the food, well—she's definitely trying to notice that, too. Having a feel for things is a good idea, and while she doesn't want to be that person who waits for the other person to take a bite first, it seems almost obligatory here.

hank pym / registered

[pyms]

[ Hank doesn't drink. Hank normally doesn't drink. There are occasions he's not willing to admit or face where he has gotten absolutely plastered. But none of that really matters, it takes him a while to get drunk anyway and alcohol has never been his way of escapism. Alcohol's there for him to loosen up and make do in a scenario like this. And it makes the time away from his lab bearable.

So Hank has had two glasses of champagne and he's mumbling and looking at the giant crystal punch bowl like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. ]

It's obvious that it's just a light underneath the punch bowl. But wouldn't it be fun if they changed the color of it by changing the properties of water directly. Just a thought.

Logan | Registered | Open

[noifsandsorbubs]

After he's touched base with Emma, Logan's first order of business is to get the hell away from all the cameras—and get himself a drink.

What he really wants to do is sneak off and see the rest of the ship, the rooms that haven't been prettied up for the guests; find out who their hostess is beyond the expensive dress and and the entourage. It's hard to trust somebody with their own damn cruise ship.

But he can't make himself invisible, and he can't wish Kitty into existence, so he's here at the bar in a hastily-purchased black shirt that's too big around the waist and way too small in the shoulders, holding a glass of whiskey (straight) and weighing his options.

Peter Parker (despite icon) | Registered (reluctantly)

[shutterbugged]

Peter's pre-registration budget definitely didn't extend to fancy dress, so the only sartorial concession he made for the occasion was to put on nice pants and a sweater whose flattering cut and rich blue color suggested that Kanaya picked it out for him. One benefit of living in a universe that was a throwback to Peter's version of the 1950's: the fashion designers here knew how to do classic preppy.

If only the tastes of the caterers were as timeless.

"...Does that jello have shrimp on it?"

Laura | Undecided | OTA

[guiloteen]

[After an initial hit and run at the buffet tables, Laura's been hanging back near the wall. It's close enough to the crowd to not be overly conspicuous, but you may note that she hasn't been doing much talking, either. It might seem like avoidance--or even, depending on your perspective--snobbery. She's also not exactly the most well-dressed: dark jeans, dark shirt, oversized jacket. No makeup. No smile. The dark colors, careless style, and non-expression may make her look a little intimidating, in spite of her obvious youth.

Really, though, she's just watchful and tense and a little uncomfortable with everyone here. Maybe even a bit awkward.

And the punch is weird.]

gilbert nightray | undecided | open

[corviform]

[ Gil has situated himself into a corner to avoid partying in any shape or form. He's attempted to hide himself away in the cloak room only to uncover people partaking in, ahem, carnal pleasure and unwilling to leave. He can't be near the dance floor, wrapped up in the fear he'll be asked to dance. He's already shaken off two women who insisted he join them on the floor.

He keeps to himself, no glass or plate, blending against the wall while feeling ridiculous in the suit he's acquired for the event. It's strictly black, with a white shirt, and although it's been fitted for him it feels... long and loose on his body somehow.

He really wants a cigarette. It'll help soothe his nerves and one of the nicer aspects of this world is how he can smoke indoors. ]

Rick Bradbury | Registered | OTA

[waiting]

[ Bradbury will just be helping himself to one of those cigars and a glass of whisky, thank you very much. Given the occasion, he thinks he's earned the respite. Being head of security for a bank doesn't call for as formal a uniform as his old job, and the suit he's procured on short notice turned out a bit too small, so he's left the jacket unbuttoned and loosened his tie. Maybe sizes run different in this world, or maybe Bradbury needs more exercise. Neither are good options.

He's leaning against the bar, facing out into the room, trying to see how many new faces he can spot -- and how many old ones. ]