ph_logs | December Event - To All a Good Night

To All a Good Night

Givingstide

Winter is hard for everyone, but none more so than the residents of an island that has been isolated by the cruel hands of fate. Where the rest of the Emerald Isles is able to rely on imports from other nations in warmer places, Marrow Isle has no resources but her own. All the while, her mettle continues to be tested against the horrors brought on by the curse.

It is for this reason that among all the holidays celebrated by the Mothers' children, Givingstide is particularly beloved. A warm and cozy festival based around wishing each other prosperity and love in the new year, the lengthening of days, embracing generosity even in the lean times, and celebrating the fact that the darkest part of the year is coming to an end.

The fireplace is lit at the Oak & Iron. A wreath of pine boughs hangs over the merry blaze, paper horses and snowflakes decorate the walls, and a table in the center of the room has been done up to look like a silver sleigh. As people file in, hot food and warm drinks begin coming out of the kitchen and bar, and gifts begin piling up on the sleigh table. (Ultimately, a fair amount of them end up on the floor around it.) Everyone greets each other warmly with hearty handshakes, firm hugs, and wishes of a blessed Givingstide. Perhaps if you have a clever eye, you may even see a horned figure drinking hot cocoa in the corner harmlessly, enjoying the atmosphere of good will and keeping watch over the party to prevent any troublemakers. And for once, just once, for the first time in so long on this frightful, forsaken island, there is true peace.

[ Enter the Tavern. ]

The tavern is warm. Orange firelight flickers, as if dancing with the shadows. Decorations of shimmering silver and hunter green, the colors of Givingstide, adorn the dark wood decor of the Oak & Iron. The stucco and timber walls of the dining hall safeguard those within from the bitter wind and snow. It's no Leeds gala--- the food is simple, but it is beautifully made. Roasted chicken, potatoes, onion soup, and fresh-baked bread. Slices of pumpkin pie are passed around for dessert. Hot cider with or without alcohol, mulled wine, coffee, and spiced tea are served with the meal. It isn't glamorous, but it's made with love and tastes like coming home somehow.

As dinner carries on, music begins to be played from the tavern stage, and Mayor Poe has Yorick assist her in doling out the gifts from the table. They read the tags and summon the recipients to the table to recieve them. You can open yours right there or at your table, and decide for yourself whether you care to announce the name of the giver to the room.

Once the gifts are distributed, the partygoers are left to their own devices, allowed time to laugh with friends, dance to music, drink to their hearts' content, sneak off to while away a private moment in one of the inn's sitting rooms, or head home for an early night. Regardless of your choice, let it be with a loved one. A friend, a partner, a member of your newfound family. Blessed Givingstide, and may your lantern ever stay lit.

gifts and vouchers

Some important information regarding gift-giving and vouchers can be found below.

[ Review. ]

Gifts can be purchased using your own Brass, or via the holiday bazaar vouchers found in our December TDM. If you haven't taken the trivia quiz on the TDM, you still can! You can take it for each character or just once and give all your characters the same voucher.

For simplicity's sake for both our mods and our players, we will allow you to decide for yourselves the prices of your items so long as they are reasonable. You can use other purchase requests in the bank as a reference or simply decide on a price you believe is fair based on your experience. You do not have to list prices. We will trust you to make fair decisions! If you're still unsure how much an item ought to cost, feel free to ask us in the question thread on this post, but in the spirit of the holiday season (both real and fictional) we would rather allow your characters to get gifts for all their loved ones than worry too much about financials. Perhaps your character is simply a very good bargain hunter!

As a slight aside, we would love to thank each and every one of you for being a part of making Pumpkin Hollow amazing this year. We truly could not ask for a better group of players and are extremely grateful to have met all of you delightful, creative, talented, funny, incredible people. We hope you had a great holiday season, whatever that looks like for you, and we're so honored to greet the new year with this fantastic community!

Hand in hand, we put the darkness to our backs and step into the light. Rejoice, spring cometh.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

John is keeping himself so tightly away from acting on his feelings, while Sam is doing his best to reach out in a way that he knows won't cause any damage to himself, or disturb the trust between them. He doesn't know where his own feelings are regarding most people, but he knows that he likes John, and Lou likes John, and really her opinion is the one that matters most.

This close, it's possible for John to see that Sam's eyes are a bright blue-grey that would normally reflect the colors of the lighting wherever they might be, in addition to that perpetual squint and averted gaze.

"Maybe I can give you a few pointers on how to let folks down gently," he continues, eyeing John with an arched brow. He hasn't shown John how he actually fights, and how easily he can knock people the fuck out with his bare hands (or a carrying case if need be). He can imagine a fair amount of amusement over it, at least.

“If someone is going down for you or Lou, it won’t be gentle.”

More quiet facts, spoken softly, gently. Lou has decided John’s finger might taste good, and John gently dissuades her from pulling it into her mouth by shifting his hand out of her grip at the last moment to chuck her under the chin instead.

“And maybe that’s a lot, but…I like you.” He admits. “I like Lou—you’re both…you’re important to me. And whatever shape that takes, it means you guys are always gonna be safe as long as I’m around. That’s a promise I can make…and it’s a promise that won’t bother me if I’m in a position where I have to keep it.”

Even though he's getting used to John and the way he reacts to things around here, it still rubs him the wrong way, hearing that.

"You don't gotta protect me," he points out quietly. "And I don't want you killin' for me. I'm not helpless, n' we're supposed to be better here, right? You're carryin' around all this shit from bein' a soldier but you don't gotta be that anymore."

"It's what I am. It's what they made me. I can't change that, Sam--lost that chance too long ago. But..."

He trails off, lowering his gaze with a frown. He knows the world Sam comes from is different from his, and he's not sure how to make him understand.

What he went home to. What it was to become this, dismantled and rebuilt to be something other than a man. He was made into a machine designed to win a war, and should he fail his purpose would be considered a failure. Then they wouldn't let him, any of them, serve that purpose, so they all went home.

As failures. Discarded pieces of equipment with no value. No reason for being. Weapons left to rust, ordinance just left to lie around and wait to become unstable enough to explode the way John had.

Now he's staring down another war: a war for a man who will never go down. No, Sam doesn't need protecting: he's capable, he's tough as nails, and he's relentless. He'll fight and claw and scrape and survive...and he'll suffer because he'll never break. John, he's built for those fights, he can ignore pain and gain ground.

If he can trade places with Sam even once, and fight a single battle for him so he can hold his daughter, shut his eyes, and feel true safety for one single day...

"They taught me to kill, but they trained me to win." he tries again. "And I don't take orders from anyone else anymore. It's just me."

He lifts a hand, as if to reach out and touch Sam--but doesn't extend his arm. He just curls his fingers into a loose fist--a symbol of one such skirmish in a greater battle for Sam's happiness and well being, one that won't spill a single drop of blood.

"And you're a war worth fighting."

"Yeah, I get it," Sam murmurs in reply. "When you're made to be only one thing for too long, you lean into it, and you don't really have a choice in the matter either way. But... Y'know. You can still have that in your past without making it everything that you are. You build on top'a that stuff. It buries it down after a while, makes it easier to ignore, n' then you can just...I'unno, dredge up and tease apart little bits at a time. It's a real slow process, n' it sucks sometimes, but that's when you look to the people around you for support, right?

"Took me a long time to learn how to do that. Hell, I'm still learnin' how to do it. It sucks, n' it's fuckin' hard."

He's parroting things that other people have tried to tell him, re-framing it in a way that he understands a little better. It's not advice specific to him, just advice for the broken and desperate.

The fist that John raises gets a look, then Sam lifts a hand, curling it into a loose fist in kind, and gently bumps it against the other man's. It's light enough that he's pretty sure it shouldn't leave a mark, and more importantly, it's a gesture meant to drag him out of his own head and keep him talking about the future, rather than dwelling on what had been done to him.

The past just won't let go.

But sometimes you could pry it loose, a little at a time.

"Ain't a war. Ain't the lynchpin of anything. Not anymore. But I like havin' you around, John Rambo. N' I know she does too."

The fistbump startles him, but in a really good way--the fist he makes uncurls just slightly on reflex, as if to reach out, reach for more...

But he stops himself, curls his fingers back up--rubs his thumb over the knuckle of his index finger where Sam's hand touched his.

I like having you around, John Rambo.

It's so at odds with Teasle's friendly offer of a ride to run him the hell out of town. It's that warm, quiet voice where the friendly tone matches the welcoming words instead of spitting thinly veiled epithets under a veneer of small town geniality.

It burns, the way touch burns. It makes him want to run and beg for more, the way he does now whenever someone casually lays a hand on his arm or shakes his hand or, in the case of Freeman, drops a secondary kiss on his cheek with a touch of fingers.

"...I like having you around, too. Both of you." John admits...then the rest slips out with the quiet of a closely guarded confession.

"I like being around you, Sam."

The corner of Sam's mouth quirks up, a small, subtle thing that softens his face immeasurably. He doesn't look back at John, but he doesn't need to. He doesn't have to remain constantly vigilant around the man for fear that he's going to do anything more than this.

The gesture is quick, and Sam tucks that hand into a pocket, looking out over the village and its festive decorations. He's acutely aware of the subtle weight of the bracelet on his wrist, and of the elbow just barely brushing against his, and he's content.

"Gotta keep on keepin' on, man. 's all we can do, right? Marchin' ever forward into the great fuckin' unknown. Good to have someone to do it with for a change."

December Event - To All a Good Night

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CW: depersonalization

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/wraps