faderift | war table: the riftwatch cultural exposition.

WHO: Innovators
WHAT: Riftwatch hosts a world's first Cultural Exposition
WHEN: Now
WHERE: University of Orlais
NOTES: OOC post

Music filters through the expansive hall of the University of Orlais. The knot of musicians here to underscore any awkward silences with gentle lute plucking and flute piping are stationed under the glow of tall stained glass windows, and seem to be playing a tune that a few people among Riftwatch may recognise resembles the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams". It echoes off the rounded stone walls, where small stages and displays await the curious for closer inspection.

Welcome to the Riftwatch Cultural Exposition.

The Exposition takes place over two long days. A printed program has neatly allotted everyone windows of time for presentation, in which those in attendance filter towards the designated banner, corner, or antechamber (as desired) to listen with reserved or perhaps enthusiastic interest to the otherworldly.marvels on display.

In between these presentations, a mix of academics, artists, merchants, and miscellaneous others wander the hall, chatting together, engaging members of Riftwatch in conversation. Anticipate some curiosity into not only the items or ideas you have on display, but also the world you come from, and how it differs from Thedas. And remember to keep certain innovative information under lock and key for now.

A small taskforce of undergraduates have been recruited to assist in running platters of pizza and peanut butter chocolate chip cookies around the hall, in helping to set up display stages or assist in interactive demonstrations, or to shepherd the nearby crowd closer when it comes time for your presentation, so make use of them.

NOTE: Consult the Points Distribution Chart to see what kinds of threads can earn us points and therefore results from the overall event! Honour system in place, so please only mark a Bank item complete if you progress a thread relevant to that item.

Once we have some points banked, we'll figure out how to distribute their spending, so don't spend 'em yet!

Drop any questions you have here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A thing Peter has done before, and will always do again, because he can’t not sass Doctor Strange.

“Only if the mice really deserve a nice day on the town,” he says back, just as tongue-in-cheek.

For a second, they can just settle into this oddly comfortable banter and byplay: no greater worry than getting these boxes unloaded, their tables set up, their equipment unpacked, academics eventually impressed. There’s a few nerves associated with this expo and wondering how it’s going to go, if maybe Stephen’s gonna score an official reprimand from Tony by the end of it — but he’s been at this sort of thing before, giving presentations in front of a crowd. He thrives on attention. He’s not genuinely worried.

So it’s a pretty good day, in terms of the war. So in they go, and Strange maneuvers them over to the assigned area. “You can just drop them over here,” he says, but as Peter moves to set them down…

Peter might be strong, but he does not have eight arms. So the top crate slides out — starts to plummet and fall out of his reach — with a yelp, Strange instinctively goes to cast a spell, almost explodes it with a blast of too-strong telekinetic strength, before he remembers at the last second and summons a shield instead. The box bounces off the shield, slides sideways, and he pivots the arcane shield to smooth its descent down.

As focused as he is on capturing that top box, he doesn’t notice the quick reflexes or sticky acrobatics Peter’s about to undergo to secure all the rest.

"Generous of you," Peter replies, smiling to himself because he thinks Dr. Strange can't see his face and the way he allows a familiar fondness in his expression.

He follows Strange as he directs him to the area of the Expo where they need to be. Peter isn't presenting anything but he is excited to be here and to see what other people have to offer. This feels like the closest experience to a science fair and/or a Stark Expo Thedas has, and Peter finds himself taking comfort in that familiarity.

Peter gets too comfortable while trying to balance too many boxes; he sees and feels the top crate start to slide, and he curses louder than he means to, while trying not to react too fast so as to disturb the other crates. Unfortunately, his movements do just that, so Peter enages his Spider reflexes and sticky acrobatics to catch the various crates and set them down safely, uncaring, for now, as to who might see him.

When he finally sets the crates down, Peter lets out a long, low breath. He rubs a hand through his hair sheepishly.

"Okay, maybe I bit off more than I can chew."

Strange shoots the kid a slightly dubious look, assessing his build: small, lean.

“Yeah. I mean, no offense, you don’t exactly look like a body-builder.” He puts down his checklist on a nearby empty table set aside for their use, and starts prying open the first crate, carefully lifting out all the materials within.

“Are you fine running around being everyone’s Taskrabbit the next couple days? I know it’s probably too early in Research to present anything of your own creation.” A beat, “Do Taskrabbits even exist in your world? I’m assuming yes, but hell, maybe it’s called Choreweasel where you come from.”

Peter bites back a laugh at that. He knows he looks like a scrawny nerd; he's been told that by his gym teacher back at Midtown enough times by now. Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, while giving him powers, didn't exactly turn Peter into the Terminator overnight.

"Yeah, uh, not really my style," he agrees without committing any additional information, trying to balance keeping the memory spell of back home in tact the same way he previously tried balancing all of those crates and boxes.

He does manage to laugh when Dr. Strange mentions Taskrabbit, though. "We have Taskrabbit. I've never used it much myself but I'm good, really," he assures him. "I like keeping busy, and this is a way for me to be helpful. It also lets me get a really good look at everything going on here."

He nods, gesturing out towards the rest of the convention. And that is a definite perk, he believes, given all of the amazing inventions he's catching glimpses of every chance he gets.

Strange looks up, following Peter’s gesture to the rest of the half-empty exhibition hall in its early preparation period. They’re not the only ones from Riftwatch arriving and setting up, and there’s even some musicians unpacking on the other side of the hall, setting up a small stage and their instruments with the plinking of a lute as they warm up, chatting to each other, off-handed practicing a new song.

“I’ll set you loose in a second. Plus, you should get to enjoy the city when we’re not at the expo. This is my first time in Val Royeaux, too.” He has his head cocked, half-distracted. His brow crinkles, perplexed, listening to the musicians in the distance as they practice. It’s not the full instrumental version yet, just a few recognisable notes… but this is a surgeon who could, once upon a time, name the exact release date and record side for a particular track being played in the operating room. Doctor Strange had made a game of recognising music while multitasking, his hands in a patient’s skull —

Baffled: “Is that ‘Sweet Dreams’ by the Eurythmics??”

war table: the riftwatch cultural exposition.

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