Welcome to another summer soiree! Please mind the rules and read them before engaging. Thank you~
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Rules are as follows:
☆ - Please continue to follow all RPR rules in addition to these
☆ - Players and OCs must be at least 18 or older as this is intended for adults
☆ - Keep things PG-13 please and thank you as this thread is public so everyone can read it
☆ - Light flirting is allowed, anything more must go to DMs
☆ - Absolutely no bullying/politics/hate of any kind
☆ - Do not bring OOC drama into the roleplay thread
☆ - Please be civil and remember to have fun
☆ - No posting order, but please be courteous to others
☆ - All species welcomed
☆ - Powers are to be kept to a minimum
☆ - Players and OCs must be at least 18 or older as this is intended for adults
☆ - Keep things PG-13 please and thank you as this thread is public so everyone can read it
☆ - Light flirting is allowed, anything more must go to DMs
☆ - Absolutely no bullying/politics/hate of any kind
☆ - Do not bring OOC drama into the roleplay thread
☆ - Please be civil and remember to have fun
☆ - No posting order, but please be courteous to others
☆ - All species welcomed
☆ - Powers are to be kept to a minimum
- - -
The soiree is located next to a lake and it's nighttime! There're lights so no one bumps into things, a fire pit for stories and marshmallows. Plus! There are a few grills that have fresh BBQ being cooked. From thick, juicy steaks to pork ribs to chicken and hot dogs. There are a few tables lined with different fruit-themed drinks, so take you pick! Take a swim in the cool, nighttime waters or sit by the fire wrapped up in savory smells from the grills. There're a few people that play guitar, including the hostess! Flyers had been posted up at the local rodeo for the little gathering.
Enjoy~
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Enjoy~
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Strings of a guitar sounded as Hannah played it and hummed happily. Lips turned up in a genuine and friendly smile while the steaks cooked upon the grill. She wore an orange outfit that was comfortable enough, no shoes and hair down. A platinum locket caught the light from both the bulbs overhead and the firepit with each movement made. A guitar pick lazily strummed as she played the acoustic instrument with an unhurried rhythm. A timer went off as she got up and placed the guitar to lean against the wooden chair, the pick left on the armrest, as she headed over to the grill area a few feet away. That same tune was hummed as she busied herself. The steaks were seasoned a little bit more and then flipped over with a pair of tongs.
She moved over to another grill as the lid was opened up. Steam rushed upward as seasoned strips of chicken were revealed. The scent of BBQ hung in the air as a different set of tongs was used to flip these over as well before the lid was closed. The tongs were set down and then she worked on the fresh vegetables that had been cleaned prior to now. With a sharp knife, skillful hands chopped cucumbers, squash, potatoes, onions and carrots. A long, thin skewer was used to put a bit of everything onto each one. Dozens of these were made as she prepped them for light seasoning and set them to the side for a moment as she checked on the hamburgers in a third grill.
These juicy patties were flipped as she went ahead and sauteed some fresh onions to as a topper for these. Hannah made sure there was lettuce, freshly sliced tomatoes and cheese, too. The buns were ready. The burgers needed a little longer to cook, so she closed the lid set the timer on it. Then she moved back over to the first grill to check the steaks. These, too, were nearly done. everything smelled delicious! She couldn't wait to dig in as a smile curled those lips. While everything cooked her hands were washed, then made it a point to pour herself a strawberry and cherry mixed punch that she made by hand earlier. Sure, it was a work and might have been easier to buy the packaged stuff. But she didn't mind hard work. There was a sense of appreciation that tended to come with it.
Nathan hadn’t planned on sticking around this long. His original idea was to take a week off—maybe ten days, tops. Just enough time to visit a few local farms, try some regional barbecue, and maybe catch up on sleep (though, let’s be honest, that never really happened). A change of scenery, he’d told himself. Clear his head. Get some fresh air away from the pressure cooker that was his restaurant back in the city.
It was supposed to be a solo trip through the Southwest, with detours for food festivals, wineries, and open-air markets. But somewhere along the way—maybe it was the easy charm of the small towns, or the local butcher who let him help prep sausages just for fun—he found himself slowing down.
That’s when he saw it.
The flyer was stapled to a wooden post outside a rodeo arena. A little frayed at the edges from the wind, but still perfectly legible.
"SUMMER SOIREE!"
Lake. Lights. Firepit. BBQ. Fruit drinks.
Bring your appetite and your good vibes.
Everyone welcome.
It wasn’t flashy. No logo. No RSVP. Just a hand-drawn border of little stars and dancing flames, and a note in thick black marker at the bottom: "Hannah’s hosting. Don’t be weird."
Nathan had to laugh.
It wasn’t the kind of invitation he’d usually take seriously. No curated guest list, no press coverage, no kitchen he could sneak into. But something about it... maybe the simplicity, maybe the fact that someone named Hannah had the guts to tell an entire town “don’t be weird” in permanent marker—caught his attention.
He didn’t know anyone here. He wasn’t dressed for it. But he was a chef who hadn’t had a real conversation outside of food service in weeks. And the idea of a firepit and a lakeside grill, under stars instead of kitchen fluorescents? That sounded... oddly perfect.
So he scribbled the directions into his notes app, bought a pack of fancy marshmallows at the co-op for good measure, and dusted off the denim jacket he never got to wear in the kitchen.
“Just for a little while,” he told himself.
Maybe he wouldn’t stay long.
Maybe he’d just grab a plate, say a polite hello, and disappear into the dark with a drink in hand.
Or maybe—just maybe—he’d finally stop thinking about work for a few hours.
The dirt path crunched beneath his boots as Nathan made his way toward the lake, the soft glow of hanging lights flickering like fireflies through the trees. Music drifted on the breeze—an acoustic guitar, low and easy, threading through the night air with a rhythm that matched the pulse of the summer heat.
But it was the smell that hooked him.
That unmistakable scent of open flame and seasoned meat, smoke curling lazily into the dark sky. Sweet and savory all at once—caramelized onions, charred fat, a hint of mesquite wood. A proper barbecue, by the smell of it. One that wasn’t phoning it in.
Nathan’s pace slowed as he approached the clearing. The lake shimmered to the side, black glass under moonlight, but his attention was fully captured by the makeshift cooking station at the heart of the gathering. Several grills hissed and sizzled in rhythm, their lids lifted in turns by a barefoot woman in orange—her movements confident, practiced, like she knew the timing without looking.
And damn, did it smell good.
He caught the tang of a citrusy marinade just as a puff of steam rushed up from one of the grills. Then came the scent of fresh vegetables—cut sharp and clean—followed by the mellow warmth of sautéed onions hitting hot metal. His stomach gave a low, traitorous growl.
This wasn’t like a cookout you'd find in a backyard on 4th of July. It was someone’s passion project.
Nathan lingered at the edge of the food area, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other holding a sweating bottle of mineral water he'd picked up along the way. He didn’t make a show of it, didn’t try to interrupt—but his trained eye swept across the spread.
The grills were clean. The prep station was organized. Skewers arranged by color and cut. Whoever was in charge here cared. A lot.
He couldn’t help but smile.
A few guests milled about, laughter rising here and there, the crackle of the firepit mixing with the low strum of music and clinking glasses. Someone offered him a cup of punch in passing, and he gave a polite nod, but didn’t take it—his feet were already moving toward the grills, as if drawn by instinct alone.
That was always how it worked. He didn’t follow crowds. He followed flavor.
And right now, something on that grill was calling his name.
It was supposed to be a solo trip through the Southwest, with detours for food festivals, wineries, and open-air markets. But somewhere along the way—maybe it was the easy charm of the small towns, or the local butcher who let him help prep sausages just for fun—he found himself slowing down.
That’s when he saw it.
The flyer was stapled to a wooden post outside a rodeo arena. A little frayed at the edges from the wind, but still perfectly legible.
"SUMMER SOIREE!"
Lake. Lights. Firepit. BBQ. Fruit drinks.
Bring your appetite and your good vibes.
Everyone welcome.
It wasn’t flashy. No logo. No RSVP. Just a hand-drawn border of little stars and dancing flames, and a note in thick black marker at the bottom: "Hannah’s hosting. Don’t be weird."
Nathan had to laugh.
It wasn’t the kind of invitation he’d usually take seriously. No curated guest list, no press coverage, no kitchen he could sneak into. But something about it... maybe the simplicity, maybe the fact that someone named Hannah had the guts to tell an entire town “don’t be weird” in permanent marker—caught his attention.
He didn’t know anyone here. He wasn’t dressed for it. But he was a chef who hadn’t had a real conversation outside of food service in weeks. And the idea of a firepit and a lakeside grill, under stars instead of kitchen fluorescents? That sounded... oddly perfect.
So he scribbled the directions into his notes app, bought a pack of fancy marshmallows at the co-op for good measure, and dusted off the denim jacket he never got to wear in the kitchen.
“Just for a little while,” he told himself.
Maybe he wouldn’t stay long.
Maybe he’d just grab a plate, say a polite hello, and disappear into the dark with a drink in hand.
Or maybe—just maybe—he’d finally stop thinking about work for a few hours.
The dirt path crunched beneath his boots as Nathan made his way toward the lake, the soft glow of hanging lights flickering like fireflies through the trees. Music drifted on the breeze—an acoustic guitar, low and easy, threading through the night air with a rhythm that matched the pulse of the summer heat.
But it was the smell that hooked him.
That unmistakable scent of open flame and seasoned meat, smoke curling lazily into the dark sky. Sweet and savory all at once—caramelized onions, charred fat, a hint of mesquite wood. A proper barbecue, by the smell of it. One that wasn’t phoning it in.
Nathan’s pace slowed as he approached the clearing. The lake shimmered to the side, black glass under moonlight, but his attention was fully captured by the makeshift cooking station at the heart of the gathering. Several grills hissed and sizzled in rhythm, their lids lifted in turns by a barefoot woman in orange—her movements confident, practiced, like she knew the timing without looking.
And damn, did it smell good.
He caught the tang of a citrusy marinade just as a puff of steam rushed up from one of the grills. Then came the scent of fresh vegetables—cut sharp and clean—followed by the mellow warmth of sautéed onions hitting hot metal. His stomach gave a low, traitorous growl.
This wasn’t like a cookout you'd find in a backyard on 4th of July. It was someone’s passion project.
Nathan lingered at the edge of the food area, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other holding a sweating bottle of mineral water he'd picked up along the way. He didn’t make a show of it, didn’t try to interrupt—but his trained eye swept across the spread.
The grills were clean. The prep station was organized. Skewers arranged by color and cut. Whoever was in charge here cared. A lot.
He couldn’t help but smile.
A few guests milled about, laughter rising here and there, the crackle of the firepit mixing with the low strum of music and clinking glasses. Someone offered him a cup of punch in passing, and he gave a polite nod, but didn’t take it—his feet were already moving toward the grills, as if drawn by instinct alone.
That was always how it worked. He didn’t follow crowds. He followed flavor.
And right now, something on that grill was calling his name.
Once again, Lyra found herself wandering aimlessly, her violin case clutched tightly in her hand as she strolled through the warm summer air. The summer holiday, which was supposed to be a time of relaxation and leisure, had instead become a source of stress for her. The more she stayed at home, the more anxious she became, largely due to her mother's persistent requests that she resume her piano lessons. Lyra had never been fond of playing the piano; in fact, she harbored a deep-seated hatred for it. The thought of spending hours practicing scales and arpeggios filled her with a sense of dread.
The reason she felt obligated to continue with the piano lessons, despite her distaste for them, was because her mother had been paying for her college tuition. Her mother was not just a parent but also a significant benefactor, and Lyra felt beholden to her. This sense of obligation weighed heavily on her, and she resented her mother for it. As she walked, her feelings of resentment simmered just below the surface, and she couldn't help but feel trapped in a life that wasn't of her choosing. She hated the piano, she hated the pressure her mother put on her, and most of all, she hated the feeling of being controlled.
In an attempt to clear her head and escape the confines of her stressful thoughts, Lyra continued her aimless wandering. She walked towards the lake, the serene surroundings and the sound of the water lapping against the shore providing a calming balm to her frazzled nerves. As she strolled, she became aware of a faint melody carried on the breeze - the soft, melodic tune of a guitar. Curiosity piqued, Lyra followed the sound, her feet carrying her towards the source of the music.
As she drew closer, the melody grew louder and more distinct, and she found herself swaying slightly to the rhythm. The music was beautiful, and it seemed to match the rhythm of her heartbeat. Along with the sound of the guitar, Lyra's nose picked up on another enticing scent - the smell of grilled food wafting through the air, mingling with the smoke from a barbecue. Her stomach, which she had neglected throughout the day, suddenly growled with hunger. Lyra realized, with a start, that she hadn't eaten anything that day, a fact that didn't usually bother her as she often skipped meals. However, the savory aroma of the BBQ had awakened her appetite, and she felt a pang of hunger.
Guided by the sound of the guitar and the tantalizing smell of food, Lyra continued on her way, her senses leading her to the source. As she rounded a bend in the path, she caught sight of a girl expertly grilling meat over an open flame. The girl's eyes were focused on the task at hand. Lyra felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she hesitated, unsure of how to approach.
"Hi, sorry... it smells good, so it led me here," Lyra said, breaking the silence. "Your guitar playing is good too." She nodded towards Hannah's guitar and smiled tentatively. Before she could say anything else, she would nod toward Nathan when their gaze met.
The reason she felt obligated to continue with the piano lessons, despite her distaste for them, was because her mother had been paying for her college tuition. Her mother was not just a parent but also a significant benefactor, and Lyra felt beholden to her. This sense of obligation weighed heavily on her, and she resented her mother for it. As she walked, her feelings of resentment simmered just below the surface, and she couldn't help but feel trapped in a life that wasn't of her choosing. She hated the piano, she hated the pressure her mother put on her, and most of all, she hated the feeling of being controlled.
In an attempt to clear her head and escape the confines of her stressful thoughts, Lyra continued her aimless wandering. She walked towards the lake, the serene surroundings and the sound of the water lapping against the shore providing a calming balm to her frazzled nerves. As she strolled, she became aware of a faint melody carried on the breeze - the soft, melodic tune of a guitar. Curiosity piqued, Lyra followed the sound, her feet carrying her towards the source of the music.
As she drew closer, the melody grew louder and more distinct, and she found herself swaying slightly to the rhythm. The music was beautiful, and it seemed to match the rhythm of her heartbeat. Along with the sound of the guitar, Lyra's nose picked up on another enticing scent - the smell of grilled food wafting through the air, mingling with the smoke from a barbecue. Her stomach, which she had neglected throughout the day, suddenly growled with hunger. Lyra realized, with a start, that she hadn't eaten anything that day, a fact that didn't usually bother her as she often skipped meals. However, the savory aroma of the BBQ had awakened her appetite, and she felt a pang of hunger.
Guided by the sound of the guitar and the tantalizing smell of food, Lyra continued on her way, her senses leading her to the source. As she rounded a bend in the path, she caught sight of a girl expertly grilling meat over an open flame. The girl's eyes were focused on the task at hand. Lyra felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she hesitated, unsure of how to approach.
"Hi, sorry... it smells good, so it led me here," Lyra said, breaking the silence. "Your guitar playing is good too." She nodded towards Hannah's guitar and smiled tentatively. Before she could say anything else, she would nod toward Nathan when their gaze met.
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