( if one wanted to think of the least likely place a deadly former assassin might spend some time at a shindig like this one, it would probably be at the knitting circle.

but — sara lance continues to be full of surprises as always, and ends up gravitating to the circle made up of mostly natives of cadelle both young and old, huddled over stretches of knit wool in a multitude of colors and chitchatting pleasantly. it's lowkey and kind of calm and maybe, just maybe, it'll be nice to learn a new skill that's a little outside of her wheelhouse.

once she's convinced that she's got the whole process down pat, she takes her cute little knitting needles and makes her way over to the large bin full of balls of yarn, all donated, in about every hue of every color she can think of. it's almost an overwhelming amount of colors and, out of idle habit, the knitting needles are twirled expertly in her hands, like they're miniaturized versions of her detachable bo staff, or maybe one of the daggers she's got hidden somewhere she's not revealing. good to know that these things could probably be used to stab someone, if she wanted to.

not that she wants to. if anything, she wants to stab herself for being so damn indecisive. but she maybe looks like she's showing off, even if she doesn't mean to as she peers down into the bin, brows furrowed. casually, towards her fellow knitter-to-be: ) This really shouldn't be the hardest choice I've made this month.

( listen. there's no use in denying it. sara lance is into these kinds of things, ever since she went to her first one in eudio what feels like a veritable eternity ago. what could be better than eating delicious foods, laying amongst a shit ton of pillows and cushions, and cozying up with an old friend, or maybe even a stranger?

feeling good's the name of the game — well, okay, no, helping the city is the name of the game, but this kind of thing is as up sara's alley as saving the damn world, or maybe even dying over and over again, is. it's inevitable that she ends up here, grabs herself a glass of whiskey with a little somethin' somethin' slipped into it, and she lounges on an overstuffed sofa inside the tent, black crop top showing a peek of muscle as she takes a long, languid sip of her liquor, waits for some company to arrive — it always does.

sara's willing to indulge in some of the so-called "experimental edibles" (god, could this place be any cheesier?), but she's likely to follow her conversation partner's lead — that is, until she gets too impatient, pops a mini cupcake or two into her mouth, offers a purposeful quirk of her eyebrow, a challenge.

bring it on, cadelle. )

( orrrr feel free to stumble upon sara just about anywhere at the energy festival, be it chowing down on maple donuts, sorting clothing and begrudging people for donating what has to be their ugliest piece of clothing, or anything you'd like; i also would love to plot stuff out at frickin / canary#4628! also, screw timelines, i will legit do 1,000 thirsty threads at one time because that's who i am as a person. )