lucetilogs | so pile your boots up in the corner -- hang your jacket from the door

Who: anyone invited to house seven's thanksgivingstravaganza -- as well as anyone walking by who might be curious about all the brouhaha.
What: giving thanks!
When: forward dated to november 24th due to predicted holiday hiatuses!
Where: house seven!
Summary: friends, food, fondness. family. festivities.
Rating: g for goin' up.

House Seven was decked out in soft oranges and browns. Gentle reds and yellows. The table was shoved up against a wall and dish upon dish of delicious Thanksgiving dinner-bits adorned it. Plates to one side, a pile of cutlery. Feel free to line up and pile your arms high with roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, carrots and green beans, cranberry sauce, sinful gravy. Stuffing. Steamed broccoli. The amount of food would almost be laughable had the guest list not been so long. Chatter abounded.

It was, by all accounts, a fairly casual gathering. No ceremony (Buffy, by this point, was all ceremony'd out after some fiercely dedicated meal-prepping) to stand on and no customs to keep. Just food and friendship. The only thing customary about Buffy Summers would be her delighted, enchanted grin throughout the evening. Very little pleased her more than a social event that was going well.

Mix! Mingle! Make merry!

(ooc; threadjack into oblivion and don't forget to add your character to the entry tags! have fun! note that this is forward-dated. i'll be tagging around myself later this evening. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That depends." He tilted his head slightly, thoughtfully. "Are you offering?"

"I AM, in fact! Offering! Shall I fetch it for you now?"

Take warning, Caesar: the dried salamander tea might taste like cinnamon and orange peel and spice and other delicious things, but sometimes it has...hallucinogenic effects on those who drink it. Not always. But sometimes.

Fortunately, if there was one thing Caesar definitely wasn't, it's gullible. Jack happened to be far too eager for Caesar to actually trust him. Too suspicious. And while he could never be described as an expert on tea, he was no stranger to the more unusual types. (Don't ask—it's a family thing.) None of this would stop Caesar from humoring the man, though.

"Sure, why not?"

Wuh oh. "Happy to, happy to. Just wait a tick, eh? I've got to go warm the pot or whatever it is they do."

With a cheerful whistle, Jack Sparrow departed to the kitchen. When he returned, it was with a steaming mug of tea. This tea, a Pelegostan medicinal beverage, eases sore muscles and pain, elevates the mood, and CAN--but does not necessarily---make the drinker see strange, fantastical hallucinations.

"For you, sir."

Caesar waited outside, idly imagining what it was that the other man might be up to. He wasn't the type to jump to conclusions, but he knew suspicious when he saw it (or maybe he was just skeptical). When Jack returned, he accepted the mug, appreciating the warmth in his hands and bringing the cup closer to his face. It really did smell good.

"What kind is it?"

"It's got lots of healthy things in it. Have you ever heard of the Pelegosto, lad?" Jack settles himself down on the porch step and leans back on his elbows, enjoying himself thoroughly.

He shook his head, watching as Jack made himself comfortable on the steps.

"Nope, can't say I have. What is it?"

"The Pelegosto are a native tribe what inhabits a forlorn and lonesome island in the Caribbean. They're highly wise in the ways of making good, relaxing sorts of healthful tea."

"Never heard of 'em." Probably something from his world, he thought to himself. The fact that he identified them as a tribe made him a little wary, though. The Grasslanders believed in spirits and weren't fond of what would be considered "modern" medicine. The obvious conclusion would be that it was probably weird.

Cautiously, he took a sip of the drink. It certainly tasted better than the stuff one would expect from some island tribe. Hmm...

"You like it?"

Jack pretended not to be pretending to not pretend to keep a close eye on how Caesar was handling this tea.

"It's surprisingly not bad." There's a thoughtful look on Caesar's face. It was a pleasant surprise, but he was still quite wary. "Are they known for this stuff?"

"Oh, aye! They're equally famous for their long pork."

Which, of course, was human meat. Jack knew of some macabre sailors with a taste for it.

"...I see." Was that supposed to be reassuring? "What's in this?"

"Orange peel, cinnamon, spice, small dried amphibian, clove, black tea..."

"...where did you find that around here?"

His expression spoke for itself. Even he knew that was a very unusual ingredient.

"Just over in the shops. Right by the analgesics. You look...like you're enjoying it very much, lad."

At least no side effects? Possibly?

so pile your boots up in the corner -- hang your jacket from the door

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject