Harvest Royalty And The Royal Pantaloons

Posted on Tue Feb 7th, 2023 @ 2:59pm by Evelyn Reynolds & Delaney O'Callaghan & Beya & Leiddem Kea (*) & Oliver Lucas
Edited on on Wed Jun 28th, 2023 @ 9:27pm

Mission: Mission 16: Hysperia
Location: Hysperia
Timeline: Third Day of Festival (MD07)
2838 words - 5.7 OF Standard Post Measure

"You know something...." Leiddem had started as the group was hanging out under one of the many tents that had popped up against the sudden change in weather conditions that a colony with no weather controls was open to. It had been nice to clear the air but Leiddem was not sure that the clothes sticking to him were going to be just as enjoyable if he did not get a chance to dry off any time soon. "The Harvest King or Queen are chosen by lottery from all people that have been on the colony for over two months." It was a pretty unique idea that the colonist had come up with to keep things fair and to make sure that the real royal family were never threatened. He had gotten into a conversation with people over it at breakfast.

"It makes sense," Beya replied. "If anyone could just arrive day of, or during the festival week, you'd have a media circus with minor celebrities popping in to compete for a crown." She imagined even a few Orion up-and-coming entertainers might show, despite the local obsession with wearing far too many clothes. She was sure she'd be far more comfortable if she could just strip off her wet ones and hang them near one of the fires instead of huddling under a tent with damp cloth stuck everywhere. Honestly, given how the linen top plastered to green skin, one could almost argue that being naked might be more modest.

Delaney, nursing a very pale ale and a plate full of fried pickles, munched thoughtfully as she contemplated the custom. What Beya said made sense if you accepted that there was some sort of benefit beyond personal accolade to the nomination. It wasn't unusual for the human to find the concept of randomly-selected exaltation a tad baffling, Laney was far from motivated by the prospect of privilege and arbitrary recognition. "You would think," she said after a moment's chewing, "that there'd be some mechanism for opting out of it. What does being crowned mean anyway?"

"Scared you might be picked hmm?" Leiddem teased taking a fried pickle to try. He winced at the strange squishy taste but eat the remaining piece before washing it away with his own pale ale. It felt like everyone just drank pale ale and he could not deny that he could get used to it. "Well from what I can tell from talking to the locals it depends on whether it is a male or female name drawn first but they are treated like royalty get special quarters for the rest of the carnival and open all the events through the festival and then participate in a parade on the last day before they relinquish the crown in the fire."

The face that Delaney pulled, one that might seem normal when devouring sour pickles, indicated that scared was probably not a bad way of putting it. "So, you have to be places at certain times and then everyone's watching you to make sure you behave? No thanks."

Behind them, a pair of not-quite wet shipmates emerged. "It does seem quite...unsettling," Oliver observed quietly, speaking mostly to Evelyn, but loud enough for others to hear. Shaking off the initial raindrops on the outfit he had been convinced to wear, he nodded a quiet hello to the others, a little thankful that he had a little more of an entourage on this visit to the surface. He added a little appreciative smile to Beya, in particular recognition for her previous efforts on his behalf. It wasn't a pleasant memory for him, but it did help him to feel a little more comfortable around the Rosie crew. "Do you think you can turn it down if you're not interested?" he wondered.

“Did not seem like it to the locals.” Leiddem said with a shrug as he held out a mug of ale to the man. He looked like he needed what remained in the skin instead of him. “But I guess if you refuse to open anything and be a pain in ass they could possibly but the prize would be nice. I bet the beds nice.” Leiddem would do a lot for a nice bed even wear fancy clothes and pretend he enjoyed it.

"I wonder if the king and queen are expected to share the bed?" Beya wondered, casting a speculative glance around the men in the crowd. There were definitely some where that would be no hardship at all in her opinion. Others... "And if there's some taboo about knifing the king if it's someone like Sir Crispin."

Delaney promptly choked on a pickle. Evelyn, who was standing roughly behind her at the time, offered a hefty jab of the heel of her palm by way of assistance before directing her attention beyond the tent and into the marketplace. "I suspect that acceptance is optional, as would be any observation of traditional elements attached to the role. The difficulty will come more from expectation and the potential for unintentional offense. I doubt they have forged such a popular event with any official retaliation sanctioned but I should also imagine the perceived honor is somewhat coveted." She turned her attention back to the group and shrugged. "I wouldn't want to be the one turning down what half the population have invested so much expectation into."

“Not me. If I get lucky enough I am going to savour the bed and bring my beloved with me.” Leiddem said glancing at Delaney before bowing at Evelyn for stopping the choking. “She can suffer with me unless there is Beya’s expectation.” He teased the woman not having missed her speculative glance around.

"I don't see why it would be any problem to bring extra people along," Beya said. The statement was almost innocent, being an expression of honest puzzlement on the Orion's part that inviting more people to share a bed would be any sort of issue. "I know I wouldn't mind, as long as they were decent people."

Having chugged half her ale to deal with wayward pickle, Delaney threw what remained of the piece at her boyfriend. "It'd have to be a big bed, this goof sleeps diagonally." Her grin was affectionate, and the accusation didn't really sound like a complaint.

The man just blew a kiss back at her and grinned. "Nothing wrong with diagonal at all." Leiddem grinned and put the pickle on the plate. "Is there anyone particular on your decent people list Beya?" He wondered just as innocent looking as her.

"It's more a matter of people who are off the list for not being decent," Beya said, thinking of Crispin's squad of goons. "Or are you asking about being on my list?" she asked, giving him a saucy grin. "Because if you and Laney ever want a third, you only have to ask."

It spoke something to the fabric of their relationship that Delaney's reaction, far from awkward or irritated, veered strongly towards an amused expression that screamed "You started this, you're on your own." She highly doubted it would embarrass the Betazoid too much though, even if she suspected the Orion was only half-joking, and it showed a degree of personal growth that she bit back a response regarding his stamina after she was done with him.

“I will keep that in mind, dear.” Leddeim answered grinning at a Delaney before winking at her. He liked Beya for the fact he felt sometimes she was Betazoid with her lack of inhabitations which was refreshing stuck about so many humans sometimes. He was about to say more when trumpets started to signal that a royal announcement was about to happen.

The roll of Laney's eyes gave some indication of the actual intent behind the banter, at least from the couple's point of view, though she likely did nothing to clarify that from Beya's perspective as she leaned over to link arms with the Orion and drew her drink in to finish. From there, the empty glass got waggled in Leiddem's direction and the silent interplay between the pair continued.

Beya beamed at the apparent acceptance from Delanay. Leiddem wasn't so much of a surprise since Betazoids were generally much more open (She imagined that a in society where everyone could everyone else's thoughts, it would be impossible for people for be prudish). But you could never tell with humans - some were totally into their monogamy kink while others were nearly Orion in their attitudes, and in her experience, most fell somewhere in between. More often it was the men on the Orion side of the spectrum though, so this was a delightful surprise. She leaned against Delaney and playfully took the empty glass, upending it to get the last drop.

Had she the forward-thought to realise she'd taken a jest too far, Delaney might have had a reasonable shot at defining the difference between being sexually satisfied by one mutually-exclusive partner and being prudish, which seemed a very narrow view of what was a vast spectrum. She'd spent the last few years specifically limiting herself to casual flings and, in that capacity, the Orion might have had more luck. Now, it wasn't so much that she was offended by the notion of promiscuity, she just didn't have a personal need for it. With her glass now beyond her reach, the redhead pouted in an exaggerated way and poked her tongue out at her friend before unravelling herself to rectify the no-drink situation herself. An arm caught around Leiddem's waist dragged him backwards towards the bar with her, an impulse coupled with the glimmer of personal reflection that gifted Delaney just enough prescience to know she needed sensible input. So far, she'd barely listened to any of the announcement's preamble.

Leiddem just grinned not at all sure what was going through Delaney's head as she pulled him away from the group but it could wait for now as an almost hush came over the crowd and even Leiddem raised an eyebrow at the fact he had never seen Hysperia so quiet. “We need to talk later about what…” his words were interrupted by a trumpeter and then a loud voice started to speech.

“I hither by declare the harvest king and queen entrants hast all been collected by people whom hast been on our most bountiful planet for the last three turns of the moon.” A man dressed up in a very official looking gown with an emblem on started to declare as two men in front of him carried a huge box. “All entrants are inside this vessel for me to pick from. I declare that the…” He glanced at the name trying to work out if it was male or female. “The first name is an off worlder by the name of Beya.”

"Me??" Beya exclaimed, bouncing with surprise and excitement. "Oh my goddess! I'm a Queen!" She stopped bouncing (possibly to the disappointment of several onlookers) and struck a regal pose. "I wonder who I'll get for a king."

"That is up to you my lady... you can allow us to choose or pick your own." The official declared loudly over the crowd as an excitement built and people were pushing a little to get a proper look at the harvest queen.

Surprise lasted only a moment, then a grin spread on Beya's face as she scanned the crowd, teaming with fit men who'd showed up for the tournament. "Do I have to pick only one?"

The man looked flustered for a moment before he shook his head. “No. No it’s not traditional. One harvest queen. One harvest king.” He looked around desperately for some support from other officials but no one seemed to even notice the awkwardness of the question.

Beya pulled a small moue. "Fine. Only one," she sighed dramatically. "But it's going to make choosing a lot harder." It was true, but the sentence was delivered for effect with saucy humor and the crowd responded with laughter, plus a few hoots and a couple shouted ribald jests playing on 'harder'. Having been raised to perform for crowds, Beya only winks at one of the cat callers. "Just keep telling yourself that, baby."

That earned more laughs and hoots, and she smiled at evidence that Hysperia, like the old earth era it's based on, wasn't nearly as strait-laced as it pretended to be. How could it be, really? After all, the main requirement for an heir to become sovereign was to lose their virginity. She considered making a joke on that point, but she wasn' certain how the royals watching from their booth might take it, so just surveyed the men in the crowd putting on a show of deliberating.

Evelyn, who by dint of rather archaic gender classification was now blessedly out of the running for any nasty surprises, glanced sideways at Oliver and hoped that Beya had the good sense not to involve him. He'd been through enough public scrutiny and would have almost certainly buckled under the additional implication. There was teasing and then there was outright unkindness and Evie didn't think the Orion was oblivious to their co-worker's anxiety issues. She elbowed him gently and nodded to the empty chairs Leiddem and Delaney had vacated.

Oliver, for his part, was both incredibly curious by the events unfolding and unnerved by it all. The way that the people seemed to elect someone, almost at random, had him confused. But he was also happy for Beya; after their time together as the only medical staff on the ship, he'd gained a sense of kinship with her. He hoped all the attention was what she wanted.

"So many fine choices..." Beya lets her hips sway as she paced, looking prospective kings over like cuts of meat in the marketplace. It really was a difficult choice, and not just for the stereotypically Orion reasons she was playing up for the crowd. There were bound to be some women out there who were miffed at an alien getting Festival Queen, but that had been pure chance. This was a choice - her choice, and one that could rebound on her and her crew. If Leiddem or Oliver were the least worried about being picked, they need not have been - picking a crewmate would obviously be the kind of bias that might lead to grumbling. Likewise, while cerainly attractive enough to qualify, her kissing booth business partner was off the list for the same reasons. The question was whether to pick a Hysperian. It would balance things out, but was fraught with local politics she didn't know half well enough. She didn't want to spark any duels, especially ones were she'd feel responsible and have to step in again. Picking an off-worlder might increase any resentment over aliens geting the honors, but would avoid all that. Also, outside of Crispin and his crew (all clearly out of the running) she wasn't comletely sure who out there was actually Hysperian, as opposed to human visitor, like Jake, who'd really gotten into Hysperian fashion. Working the kissing booth, she'd found that some outsiders honestly seemed to fit better than the locals.

...Hmmm, speaking of... her eyes lit on Tomas. Not only did she like him, but he was big and muscular - clearly sexy enough for king. Plus, who would be stupid enough to challenge a swordsmith to a duel? "There! I see my king!" she called, pointing to him and flashing a playful grin. "I like a man who knows how to work a sword."

There was a lull, the slightest hint of hesitation as an entire crowd turned in unison to identify who the off-worlder had finally chosen. Tomas, nursing a flagon of ale, didn't appear to flinch as the scrutiny of a hundred eyes stripped him down to his base level and rushed through a hurried evaluation of his worth. As the seconds passed, a general consensus appeared, first as a murmur and then as the cascading effect of a handful of drunken whoops. Whilst the blacksmith wasn't Hysperian-born, his monolith had still become synonymous enough with the local landscape to count as something a little more than yet-another-foreigner. Tomas had earned his respect, in most cases without having to demand it.

Whether or not he felt particularly flattered by the nomination wasn't immediately obvious, though he wiped the back of his hand against his mouth to clear away any errant froth and rose to his feet without protest. The crowd parted, and the blacksmith trudged forward until he stood facing the flustered official and his apparent-Queen.

It was quite possible only Beya caught his brief wink.

"I ain't wearing pantaloons."

Beya laughed. "As far as I'm concerned, you can wear, or not wear, whatever pants you want," she said, throwing a quick wink back as she took his arm.