Blind Date! Wren & Sokol

#1

Happy Valentine's Day!!!



Thank you for participating in our Valentine's Day event.

Please assume that your character has either already arrived or is being escorted to their table where they will meet their date. After introductions, servers will periodically arrive to describe the shared appetizer, main course, and shared dessert as they are served. Thread progression is up to the players/characters involved. You are in control of when the server arrives to describe each course.

Remember, this entire thread takes place in the dark.

If things go well, let a server know. They'll escort your characters outside together where there will finally be enough light to see each other for the first time. If things go... not so well, your character can request to be escorted out separately and you'll never have to "see" them again.


Meet your date!

Match:


@Wren Morrison & @Sokol Petruška

Menu:


Appetizer:
Seared Fresh Scallops with Bacon, Chestnut, Pomegranate Salad

Main Course:
Braised Duck Breast with Sour Cherry, Sage and Black Forbidden Rice

Dessert:
"Drunken Pear" Soaked in Port Wine Filled with Bruléed Vanilla Cream, Pear Puree and Vanilla Ice Cream


Bon Appétit!


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#2



What in the world was she doing here? How in the world did she convince herself to do this? What was going through her mind at the time to make her go, "Gee whiz, this sounds like a brilliant idea. Let's do it." Because right now, she was drawing a blank on that reasoning. But, a las, here she was being escorted to her table. She didn't think it was going to be an actual blind date. When they wrapped the band around her eyes, she had a moment of panic. Was she being kidnapped? She was definitely going to get murdered, wasn't she?

But the smell of food eased her discomfort, but only slightly because she was going to be sitting blindly with some random person trying to eat dinner! Oh god, she was going to be fumbling around, she knew it. Bumbling idiot bear.

They scooted out her seat and she took her place in her chair. She slid the chair closer to the table, knocking her abdomen right into the edge. "Oof," she grumbled. It's fine. Everything is fine. Her anxiety was desperately telling her that everYTHING WAS FINE.
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#3


It was important to be spontaneous, wasn't it? And this town had limited...cultural opportunities. He felt compelled to take advantage of a local charitable event, even one as ludicrous as fumbling through a meal in the dark with a perfect stranger. He was led to his seat frowning with concentration, hands feeling around for purchase.

It should not have surprised him that the loss of vision was completely debilitating; the room was so dark. How had they achieved this? His cat found it all appalling and suggested a shift, so Sokol would have whiskers and a better nose to use. Though he declined. Even without a fine lion's nose, he could smell a wealth of appetizing aromas, all overlaid with something. Familiar. He frowned harder and inhaled.

...Yes. "Do I detect a bear at my table?"
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#4
She heard some shuffling across from her. Surely, it was her blind date. Crap, was it too late to abort mission? But wait. That smell. Where had she smelled that smell before? Wren took a deep breath, hearing the stranger across the table do the exact same thing as her. The scent took her back to wiping a sticky slushie from the back of a man's neck.

No. Please. No.

And then he spoke out into the darkness, confirming it. She recognized that accent. Did he know? Was this a set up? They were supposed to go out to dinner together at some point. But as a date? Surely not. It was a repayment for her clumsiness. Right?

"Falcon In Czech, is that you?" she hesitantly called out into the dark void.
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#5
Even in the dark, on instinct, he broke into a bashful smile. "I fear it is, Střízlík in American." Not his best joke. "How did you like your movie?"

It was a bizarre and unsettling feeling, to hold a conversation in pitch blackness. There was...a delay, between the delivery of a line and his knowledge of how it was received. It was bringing up a nerviness in him that he did not approve of. With an effort, he breathed slowly and peacefully, and began to touch everything at his side of the table. Cutlery. A cloth napkin, which he unfolded and situated over expensive linen pants. At least he could count on the bear being a thousand times more flustered than he ever could be.
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#6
Yep. Confirmed. It was the lion indeed.

Not being able to read facial expressions or body movement was a real disability in this darkness. The butterflies fluttered and bounced around in her gut while her hands crept up to the table to feel things out. The clanking of silverware made her retreat her hands. Eek. This was going to be difficult. Wren slowly brought her hands back to the table and more carefully than before, felt things out. Fork, bigger fork, spoon, knife. Plate, and a wine glass perhaps?

"Ah, the movie was poor in historical accuracies, but excellent in entertainment, " she smiled. Though, he wouldn't be able to see it. Hopefully the tone of her voice was clear enough to hint at it. "Of all people to sign up for this blind date, I didn't think it would be you. I thought I would have had a better chance at repaying you for my clumsiness. "
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#7
He smiled (pointlessly) at her comment. "It looks like luck moves more quickly than we do."

The waitstaff moved rather quickly, too. He could smell bacon approaching, as well as the buttery aroma of...actually, he had no idea. He could tell only that it smelled delicious.

Muted sounds clinked and thumped between them, Schroedinger's Appetizer arriving. Sokol found himself holding still and silent, suddenly horrified at the idea that something in his appearance—his posture, his collar—was askew, and the server could see it plain as day. How could he have known that this event would be so terrifying? "Do you think, are we supposed to use our forks or our hands?"
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#8
She smirked and blew air out of her nose. Luck? Perhaps. But here she was with the lion, and she would make the most of it.

Her bear became immediately excited once the smell of food hit her. Greedy little piggy. She wondered how her bear would do eating at a table with another large predator. She gulped, hoping her bear would behave during such an extravagant meal compared to her usual strict healthy diet.

The server set her food before her, clanking and shuffling. What could it be before her? "I was thinking neither. Just dive in and eat it right off the plate," she joked, though her bear gruffed, thinking it was actually a pretty decent idea.

Wren felt for her fork and napkin, definitely needed that in case her blind eating failed her and it landed on her dress. Successfully she found both. She used the fork to poke around, looking for the plate and food. Ugh, this was going to be harder than she thought. Luckily her super nose was helping her aim.

Aha! Her fork stabbed something. Proud of herself, she picked it up and attempted to bring it to her face. Piece of cake. Until, she completely missed her mouth and her scallop plopped onto her lap and bounced off onto the floor. Thank god they were blinded. She would just ignore that it even happened.

"Sokol, May I ask where you are from? I can’t quite place your accent," she asked. Truly, she wanted to ask during their first run into, but she had refrained, feeling to embarrassed to ask.
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#9
Sokol squinted disapprovingly in the dark, knowing he could get away with it. He would choose starvation over something as humiliating as eating his food like a dog. Feeling that this whole event was veering into something with unnecessarily high stakes, he took hold of his fork (actually a spoon) in one hand and reached out with a suspicious forefinger from the other. He prodded carefully into the plate.

He was touching...damp chopped things. This was a nightmare.

Hearing Wren forge ahead across the table, he stabbed the spoon into his plate, where it glanced off of a scallop and toppled into fresh, bright salad. An irritated sigh huffed out of him. He reoriented the fork (spoon) and began to systematically, quietly stab at the food; small talk would be a welcome distraction from this failure. "Of course you can ask, I don't mind. It fools everyone here." Something was wrong with this fucking fork, he realized.

"I'm from Czech Republic, in central Europe. Though you probably know that. You're a scholar, is that correct?"

It was a fucking spoon D:<.
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1

#10
She was pretty sure her entire appetizer was one the floor by now. Not even a small taste of food yet. It kept falling off her fork no matter how securely she thought she stabbed it. Welp, might have to make dinner after this after all. Wren wondered how the lion was faring with his starter in the dark.

The bear put her fork down on the edge, or at least she thought so, of her plate. It immediately slid off and clanked against the plate and other silverware on the table. She frowned, displeased but took a deep breath.

"Czech Republic, wow, a beautiful country," she awed. Her hand gently reach outwards in search of her drink, fingers carefully navigating in the dark. Ah-ha! A glass. Her hand wrapped around it's stem and brought it to her lips. Oops, not her lips. That was her nose. Okay, there. Lips.

"A scholar?" she laughed shyly, "I guess so. I work at the anthropological museum in Bella Vista as their researcher. " It probably sounded boring to him, not many people wanted to sit, research, and write all day. "What about yourself? What do you do?"

Wren tipped the glass back and... choked on the liquid. She tried to keep it to a minimum to not draw attention to herself. That was not water in her glass, but wine. Her lips turned downwards in disappointment, carefully trying to set the glass back down on the table but unfortunately the glass was set on the edge. Unbeknownst to her, the glass swayed back and forth before tipping into her lap. Wren threw herself backwards in her chair and let out a gasp.
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#11
He could not stop fantasizing about throwing the spoon, full-force, into the blackened dining room. Wren at least was complimenting his homeland, but Sokol was preoccupied with feeling sorry for himself. He set the spoon down with great care and tested another piece of cutlery in his hands. "Nothing adventurous, I am afraid." The tines lowered into the appetizer, cleanly spearing a scallop. "My family owns an electronics factory, and I try to convince people to buy our products."

He smiled angelically at this underselling of his business, forgetting it was a wasted effort. The fork stayed where it was until he thought he would have a moment to contend with the food on it. "The anthropology museum? You know, that was one of the first places I visited when I moved here! Yours is the only place that I've seen supernatural artifacts." Well, she would have an idea of how rare that was, wouldn't she. "What are you researching currently?"
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#12
Oh phew. He didn't notice her mishap. Thank the Bear God.

She cleared her throat and quietly dabbed her napkin on her dress which was luckily red, that is assuming the wine would be red. Or was it white? Either way she was dabbing away at the wet spot. Wren didn't notice or hear much struggle on his end of the table. Perhaps this was a walk in the park for him?

"Oh? What kind of products do you sell?" she asked, genuinely interested and not just a polite follow up question. And his own follow up made her grin wide. How exciting it was that she didn't bore him to death. "We're about to get some new artifacts in I believe, if everything goes smoothly," she exclaimed proudly, "I'm currently looking at, um, mostly bear motifs throughout North America to see if there's any evidence to date back bear shifters hopefully a few hundred years if not further."

Once she was satisfied with her attempt at drying herself off, she returned to stabbing at her food. Aha! She stabbed something and successfully brought it to her lips. The red head shoved the entire scallop into her mouth and immediately sighed in relief. Seafood was definitely her favorite food and finally she was enjoying it.
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#13
As she spoke, Sokol moved his fork, the tines tilting immediately upward to keep whatever he had speared in tow. It felt rather heavy, and slapped his hesitantly open mouth unexpectedly, warm and oily. He made some adjustments and mouthed the scallop as Wren spoke.

He heard very little of what she said, truthfully, too engaged in the adventure of realizing that he was eating shellfish. Well-prepared, too! The whole thing disappeared quickly, and he reached out again to stab at the plate. "What is the word for this, the meat on this plate?"

He could go into more detail about his profession, but it was hardly good conversation to someone not in the business, so he let the topic drop for the moment. His fork traveled back to his mouth, where it rained salad bits all over his lap and delivered nothing else whatsoever. "And what have you discovered in your research?"
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#14
Wren savored her bite of food happily. Every single bite chewed it care. Her fork went back in for another attempt. Something small and harder to stab. She brought it to her lips and her eyes went wide. Bacon?

"Oh, scallop!" she answered. Savory, sweet, briny, scallops. The only dissatisfaction her bear had was not being able to crack open the shells herself. But this would do. Oh, it would surely do. "Do you like seafood?" Perhaps a strange question. Weres ate most foods, right?

"I've just started researching, just not much yet. Indigenous groups of the Pacific Northwest have bears as their clan leaders, so I'm starting there and seeing where it takes me," she was honestly really excited about this research. Her bear was happy about it too.
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#15
Scallop, right. He had run into the word before. He stabbed deliberately around on the plate, skewering the edge of one such item and, in the process of turning the fork around toward his mouth, whipped the scallop off of his fork and wetly into his cheekbone. This in particular made the lion angry, and it provided for Sokol an image of the lion biting through his own arm.

Breathing. Breathing was important, when you were embarrassing yourself and starving.

When he returned to the plate, it was to rake it clumsily with his fork, clattering and scraping off a pile of invisible salad in search of any remaining protein. Nothing. "Better, when I can see it," he answered her peevishly, placing his elbow in a spoon.

"I would think," he continued, giving up on the appetizer and feeling around very carefully for a beverage, "that you could learn something of our origination by the presence and distribution of animal species. Do shifters of extinct animals exist, for instance? Barbary lions and cave bears?"
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#16
She smiled wide and nodded happily for it to only go unseen. God, it was weird realizing she relied on her body language so much, and sitting in the dark it was really useless.

"That's exactly my goal! Wouldn't it be amazing to see if cave lions or bear shifters existed at some point? What about even saber-toothed cats. That would be honestly so amazing. I just have so many questions," she cheered excitedly. All the research talk made her want to go back into her office and start working again...

The server returned. She assumed it was to refill glasses as she heard the sound of glass clinking and water pouring. But apparently, it was also to move onto the next course. Swiftly, they removed their appetizers and placed a new dish before them. The smell was enticing, but again, her bear wasn't picky. So much for figuring out what other delicacies were on the previous plate, having only tasted scallops and bacon. Or perhaps that was all. Though she had detected a taste of something tart and sweet. The red head sighed. Oh well.

"Oh my god," she said, inhaling deeply the savory scents of the main course, "I-I think I smell, duck?"
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#17
Sokol found himself freezing again, clutching a fork tightly in one hand and the stem of a wine glass in the other. It made his back prick with sweat to be so vulnerable in the presence of strangers, and the slowly building tension of hunger and humiliation made his beast rise, and his breath grow ragged.

Just for a moment. Just while the servers placed their meal. He set the wine glass down and bent the fork in his hand.

The only way to get any food into his mouth was to use his hands. With a jolt, he remembered suddenly the liska in his apartment, miserably shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth with one dirty hand, and the irony, frankly, hurt his feelings. "I love duck. I am afraid if I don't pick it up in my hands, I will starve to death before they turn the lights on."
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#18
She laughed lightly, "Feel free to eat how you please, Falcon. I won't judge. Not that I can see anyway if I wanted to.". Besides, eating with her hands sounded like a great idea considering it was indeed, duck, a favorite of her bears. The quicker she could scarf it down, the quicker her bar would be satisfied. Wren gulped, taking in the rich smell of the game bird while she reached for her forks hidden amongst the maze of the table. Her bear wanted out. She didn't want to use stupid utensils. She wanted to come out and easily clean the plate for her. It was frustrating, but luckily she had her nose.

"This experience is more frustrating than I originally thought," she gulped at her admission, "It's a struggle to keep my bear back. She really, really likes duck." Wren shifted in her seat uncomfortable at the sudden rush the bear was making, trying to come to the surface. Food was her bear's weakness.
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#19
He sat sweating and inhaling the smell of braised, crisped duck. Sensing the other animal's unrest, perhaps, his lion continued to push, until suddenly his hand was in the plate, touching something dry and something hot and sticky, a duck breast which he grasped and jammed fiercely between his teeth. Silver-eyed, though it didn't matter. The lion approved, even as he felt an unwelcome cocktail of disgust and shame, now having to talk again to the woman at his opposite. "I will choose my hands to become filthy instead of shift at the table," he growled, defeated at last. This portion of duck felt small, so small.
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#20
Wise choice on his part. Wren, on the other hand, was clenching the edge of the table, but with deep breathing, she eventually calmed down and picked up a piece of food from her plate, regrettably, with her hand.

Upon putting the piece of duck in her mouth, her bear and she sighed in relief. It was so delicious. Too delicious. Another piece was torn off and promptly placed in her mouth. "So are there any lion prides in Mountainside?" she asked after a moment of gathering herself to return to the conversation. She was new to the area, but in little time she had found herself a sleuth. "I've only run into you so far."
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#21
The breast was gone in under a minute. He pulled the plate closer, sniffing speculatively at the rice, and set to the work of finding a fork or spoon, grasping it low on the handle and hanging his head over the plate in a bloom of indignity. "Not even alone lions, from what I have found. Only cheetahs in Belle Vista." Now was the time to ask after the bears or to cultivate pity for his orphan self, but all the intrigue had by now been whipped out of him, so instead he shoveled rice into his pouting mouth.
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#22
He was becoming a man of less and less words. Perhaps it was his lion taking over and just wanting to chow down. She couldn't blame him. Having another large predator at the same dinner table could be... problematic at times. Wren took a deep breath in between bites, forgetting to breathe through the delicious succulent piece of duck.

Her greedy bear wanted to snatch his right off his plate, but Wren knew better. She would prefer to keep her hands. The falcon did mention something about the cheetahs in Bella Vista, she knew a little bit about them from Levka. But that was really it. Had she even met another cheetah? She couldn't recall.

"No other lions, huh? Do you feel lonely at all?" Perhaps it was too invasive of a question.
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#23
"Is the dessert prepared?" Rude, he was being rude. He had called loudly in an attempt to summon the waitress, who he could now hear moving. He had cleared his plate, shoveling the rice either into his mouth or off the plate while experiencing profound measures of self-pity. "It is a different experience," he answered levelly, feeling around for a napkin. "But I am holding out hope. Tell me, how has been your experience with your...group?"

A pack of bears? A clot?
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#24
Wren cleared her throat at his abrasive comment about their dessert. Okay, maybe he was just REALLY hungry. She was as well, but clearly, she had a better hold on her table manners. The redhead finished off her last bite, satisfied but still had a bit of room left for dessert. What a spoiled bear, getting a real dessert. Setting her fork down on what she thought was the edge of the table, but only for it to fall to the ground. Pushing her plate away, she picked up her napkin from her lap and dabbed the corners of her mouth.

The server quickly took away their cleaned off plates and left, hopefully, to return with their final course in hopes she didn't have to deal with a grumpy lion any longer. "It's going well, I think," she started, "I'm so busy at work, I'm afraid I don't have much time to really get around to meeting every single member, but alas. I'm sure I will at some point."

The clacking of plates on the table signaled that their final course had arrived. With a sigh of relief, she searched the table for her fork. "Ahh, I smell cinnamon and pears. What a lucky night, pears are my favorite fruit!" Wren didn't hesitate digging in once she found a different utensil to shovel the pear and, oh, vanilla ice cream! She hummed in delight, finishing it off quickly. Definitely, her favorite course of the night and her bear easily agreed.
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#25
Lucky bear, to be served so many favorites in one night. He liked pears very much too, actually, but was too miserable to take a great deal of joy from the dessert course, experiencing it mostly as something to be spilled down his shirt.

This was a disastrous night, and he could already feel he would need to shift just to work off the frustration, lion-time as penance for making such a hash of being human. Even information about the bear-clot was turning out in a dead-end, what an absolute waste!

He at least managed courtesy now the final course had been served, though the air at the table felt cool. Perhaps Wren the bear was simply a jinx.
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