[OPEN] Worry not everything is sound...

[winged_knight]

WHO: Soundwave, Wing and EVERYONE.
WHERE: The as-of-yet-unnamed bar at Haven’s Hub. (the rec center)
WHEN: Today until of the Calling event ends.
WHAT: It’s the Calling but in stereo, so we’re having a love-in at the bar.
WARNINGS: Umm, booze. And WEH. And maybe bad renditions of Kumbaya.
NOTES: Communal log: make a post to show you’re there then tag around!

Soundtrack: 1, (more later when there is less brain death)

The bar’s double doors open into a lofty room, easily comfortable for Cybertronians of any size, an arched bank of skylights letting in light from Prima’s temple. Directly ahead sits a “U” shaped bar that can vary in height, from sections that fold down to be more accessible for humans and minibots to taller sections in the back from larger frames.

To the right sits a small stage and DJ area plus a small dance floor, with a few tables with stools scattered around the edges. When the dance floor is not in use pleasant music makes for nice backdrop for conversation. The left wall is lined with more secluded mech-sized booths. The corners house larger curved booths with round tables, save the far left where there’s a human sized spiral staircase that leads to the second floor mezzanine.

Yet this is no normal mezzanine. Affectionately dubbed “The Loft” it sits at about the 15 foot mark, making it easily between chest and eye level on most mechs. The Loft wraps around more than half the outer edge of the room, creating a haven for humans and other smaller statured inhabitants away from the stomping, shuffling feet of drunken robots. An odd mix of appropriately sized tables and chairs are scattered about with a few secluded booths in the corners.

There’s a door at the very rear of the main room, closed, but with a sign that reads “Workers Only.” This is pretty obviously the bar’s back room for service and storage.

The place is decorated--what there is of it currently--fairly eclectically, a far cry from stark metal contruction of what most might consider contemporary Cybertronian design. But much of it is an exemplary exercise in how to make junk into art, and cheery, energetic art at that. Among the decorations include a placard near the door with all the names of those who help build the place by way of thanks, and a second, smaller placard is hung over the back of bar that reads “The Score Zone.” The decor might not be to everyone’s tastes, but it is reflective of the bar’s strange mish-mash of clientele, which is mostly the point.

*****

It seems they've brought in more lights for this--in the form of many odd lamps placed on any flat surface--so the place is brightly lit, as if trying to chase away the shadows. All through the night and following day, Soundwave chooses upbeat or uplifting music to play, sometimes even loudly if people want, other times encouraging people to sing along. Wing takes the occasional opportunity to tell a story, old Cybertronian fables or human fairytales. He encourages others to tell their stories, especially of the lost, sharing positive memories of those that have departed. There’s an odd assortment of pillows and blankets for any who wants them, and mechs--if they like--are welcome to find a spot out of the way to recharge if they need to. (At some point, Wing will likely be seen doing this, as he’ll be going on four days without sleep).

As the Call gets more and more intense, and it seems like people might wander away, the doors are locked and someone is assigned to door duty on the inside. Anyone may enter of course, but those that wish to leave must answer the doorman’s queries first. This should keep most people from absently straying, since few know about the back door.

Comments

[vandalization]

Well, it's been a taxing few days. She hasn't really left the medbay until a few hours ago. She had to shower eventually, but rather than sleeping at home, alone, she's curled up in the corner of a booth.

Usually she'd be all about the drinks, but she's actually had to be sober to tend to the injured. So finally, she actually passed out from something other than whiskey. She looks comfortable.

She wouldn't actually be here, but she'd been chased off and told that she really needed some actual rest. So whatever. They can make her leave but they can't make her go home. She came here with the intention of being useful but well.

As you can see. Not everything went as planned.

[winged_knight]

Wing moves around a lot, trying to make sure everyone is happy and has what they need. He does his best serving drinks, and hopefully his winsome demeanor makes up for his lack of knowledge at mixing them. When the knight does finally stop and rest, the weariness catches up with him. It's obvious, but it's also obvious that he fights the good fight, and does so without complaint.

And regardless of it all, he tries to greet everyone with a smile.

[tearsofsteel]

Albert didn't think robots could drink and found himself pretty skeptical when he got wind of the news. But a majority of the robots were going to be there, so he thinks and while he had little ability to keep them all under control given his size, he could do what he can. At least this way there'd be less trouble, drinking or not. When Albert arrived, he was surprised to find there was a section built just for humans and human like companions. How thoughtful of them.

Anyhow, Albert, the life of the party he is, sits at one of the chairs, eying the other robots. He sensed something was going to go down...something.

[inferiordude]

There's the temptation to slip and play music based on the grating white noise humming around in his processor. It sounds familiar, something like he'd heard once awhile ago, something awful from the depths of an insane Prime and when Soundwave was trying desperately to save a friend.

Yeah. Like that time.

But he doesn't play the sound he hears, and instead tries to ignore it. Still, the tune that Soundwave plays is one he tries to form to be calming. It's somewhere in the middle, of quiet and restful but he feels like he can't make it sound right.

Still, the inspiration is there.

Per his power of song, Soundwave attempts to inspire those gathered in the bar to be calm and peaceful, as he sits on the stage and plays the night away. Those paying attention may notice that his windshield seems to be, ah, missing from his chest and instead has been replaced with a paperbag.

A paperbag with a smiley face drawn in red ink.

Soundwave certainly doesn't seem to pay heed to it.

[showboater]

Marvelous isn't terribly sure about the drinking portion of the evening--he only recently hit legal age for drinking in the parts of the galaxy the Gokaigers normally ran in, and even before that there wasn't much time for it. Still, there's information to be had, people to meet, some food to eat, hopefully, and besides meeting with Joe for their rib adventure and the couple of mechs he met when he woke up at first, he hasn't seen a single soul in person. He's getting stir-crazy on the Galleon with only Navi to talk to.

Who, for the record, he leaves behind. The Galleon's locked up tight, hovering in the highest part of the lower atmosphere she can reach before the Lambda-thing keeping him on-planet starts interfering with Navi's comm. Half of him is worried but the rest keeps pointing out that Navi can take of herself, and the ship's nav systems were locked up, anyway.

He sprawls himself into a booth in the Loft, back to the corner because some habits die hard. His toe is tapping along against the seat--ostensibly with the music, but the beats are off, mostly because of the buzzing in his head--but his arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks both nervous and irritated at being so.

[justamirage]

Mirage wouldn't have come here at all if it weren't for finding himself at the edge of the civilization starting off into the badlands. He wasn't feeling social, but he also had a strong sense of self-preservation. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Today's sacrifice was privacy, secrecy, and comfort for, well... not heeding the call.

Mirage entered cautiously, pausing at the door to take a glance around at the people currently inhabiting the bar before he made his way as quietly and inconspicuously as possible off to a booth to be alone for as long as he was permitted.

[kingofthetvworld]

You know that feeling you get when you take a nap but still feel tired--if not worse--when you wake up? Although he'd never tell you, Teddie has been feeling like that a lot lately. You can see it in his eyes. Despite how he's been feeling, however, he did get a message from Wing and he wasn't going to continue sitting in the corner and--wait, no. I didn't say that. Everything is just peachy, forget I said anything. He looks downright chipper, actually, even with the bags under his eyes.

The moment he walks in, he embarrassingly attempts to impersonate a laugh track. Don't be surprised if he continues to treat this as if they were all in one big sitcom.

[shutupndrive]

Considering the conversation he'd had with Cliffjumper about getting drinks sometime, Smokescreen wasn't about to pass up the chance to do so. Especially when so much bad crap was going down and everything just seemed so not right.

He wandered in--not recognizing anyone right away--and settled himself off to the side for the time being, not really feeling too chatty at the moment but hey, that was to be expected right?

[bandagebound]

The only reason Tuck showed up at all, after much debate with himself and many failed attempts to drown out the noise in his head, was solely that if he wandered in this world and left himself to his own devices with something like this affecting him, he knew he would wind up dead. Something far beyond his comprehension had taken hold of them, and it left him feeling more than a little frustrated and angry and helpless.

Helpless.

There was somewhere he never wanted to be again. When he had been abandoned to the streets so many years ago simply for looking anything other than human, he'd survived then by the metaphorical skin of his teeth and not much more, until Rex had come along. But that was then. Now, the situation wasn't much different, but the world was.

He'd felt so small and insignificant and unable to do anything about this world ever since he'd been brought here. What could he do about any of it, other than weather the storm?

He had come because he hadn't wanted to be another body to drag back to the Haven, another burden for someone else whose time was better spent contributing to... whatever, but it didn't make him happy. He loathed it all more now that he was out of the way than he did the thought of him being out there anymore. With that, he stuffed himself into the farthest corner he could find after bringing a few cans of string beans and asparagus he had found on a forage one day - it was all he had to offer - and sat there, waiting. For what, he wasn't sure.

The music was interesting enough. At any other time, he might be dancing to the strange rhythm, but his heart just wasn't in it.

[raceme]

[Blurr promised Wing that he would come at least for a little bit. He didn't feel like partying and while he would want nothing more than to get wasted and forget the last days happened he couldn't do that. He grabbed a small cube of energon and looked around for familiar faces.]