The Magic of a Good Time, Wednesday, Period 1

[locointhecoco]

The classroom looked oddly barren this week when the students entered. Pinkie wasn't in hiding this time -- so odds were against any costumed performances -- but was sitting at her desk, her front hooves propped up against the desktop as she watched everyone enter.

There was the usual table with tea and punch and breakfasty snacks on hand, but other than that . . . it looked like a normal classroom.

"Hi!" Pinkie said, once it seemed everyone had arrived. "Welcome back again! I'm so glad to see you all! Did any of you get to go to Kenzi's wild squirrel party this week? It was tons of fun, and out in the park where anyone could come by, which was super nice of her! Parties in public places can mean you get to skimp on the invitations a bit, but don't forget about that extra personal touch when you want to make a party really magical." She threw her front hooves in the air in an excited V, then hopped up and trotted around to the front of the desk.

"Of course, if there's no invitations, why, how do you know it's a party going on? Well, the first hint is all the people having fun, of course, but what about before the first guests arrive? Nothing says 'PARTY!' like the right kind of decorations. Your decorations can let your guests know where the party is, what the theme is, who the party's for, or just give them something neat to look at and play with! And decorations can be anything that makes the party space special. You could have streamers and pretty lanterns and fancy table cloths and even fountains and sculptures! But my personal favorite decorations are the BALLOONS!"

Which, naturally, was the cue for dozens of multi-colored balloons to drop from the ceiling, along with loads of confetti. Pinkie pranced and danced happily through the falling balloons, nodding and encouraging the students to join her as she batted them around with her nose and her tail.

"So today we're going to decorate!" She reached the end of the room and threw open a closet, from which piles of supplies came tumbling out. "We have streamers and lanterns and table clothes and fountains and sculptures and confetti and hats and monkeys and paper trees and flowers and centerpieces and cup holders and ducks and curtains and BALLOONS!" Pinkie dragged a helium tank out of the closet with her teeth, only to accidentally inflate herself to the point of floating up into the air. When she let go, she flew around the room like a deflating balloon to land, giggling, on top of her desk. "So grab some supplies and get decorating!" she said, her voice somehow even higher than usual. "And don't forget to have fun!"

[ooc: Links are to various examples. Decorations are totally moddable. HUZZAH!]

Everything’s A Weapon, Wednesday, Period 3

[raspberryturk]

While the students opened the door to the Danger Shop today and stepped through, they’d be walking into a replica of Caritas, right down to the zombie band playing on the stage and a scowling Tino wiping glasses behind the counter. Reno and Cindy were perched on the stools, Cindy eating a maraschino cherry from a bowl in front of her, and Reno casually picking at his teeth with one of those neat little minty toothpicks.

“Good job last week with not getting taken by surprise,” Cindy said as the last of the class filed in. “And not getting eaten by...whatever those things were.”

“Sahagins,” Reno offered, ever helpful. “They were sahagins. Or, uh, fish-turtle-man-things. Whatever you wanna call ‘em. Ain’t like they’re a local critter anyhow.”

He cracked that crooked little grin of his, and then nodded to the class. “I’m sure you guys know better by this point than to think we’d do somethin’ nice like give you all a break from the fightin’, so I’m gonna be good an’ straightforward. We know Caritas here on the island has a protection spell up, so all hell can’t break loose inside, yo. Still, the bar’s a perfect environment for gettin’ into crap up to your eyeballs, and there just so happens to be a wealth of shit in here that can be used in case of emergency, yo.”

“There’s a reason most Westerns have an obligatory bar-fight scene,” Cindy added. “Bars are pretty much made of improvised weaponry. You’ve got a few minutes to arm yourselves appropriately and get ready for a knock-down, drag-out fight.”

She ostentatiously glanced at her watch. “Go.”

[OCD coming up! Have at thee!]

Library, Wednesday [July 20]

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

Gabrielle looked like she hadn't slept well. Probably because she hadn't; she was shuffling as she wandered through the stacks to reshelve books, and kept stopping to yawn and rub a hand over her face.

This shift -- not that she resented it at all! -- was the only thing left between her and a few days at home. That . . . seemed like an exceptionally welcome prospect right now.

[OOC: Um, it took me three hours to write this; if I did OCD threads it'd be evening by the time they got done.]