pumpkinhollow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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ph_logs2024-03-05 05:57 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2024-03-05 05:57 pm
Entry tags:
Mingle - Emergency Potluck
Pumpkin Hollow Community Bulletin
WELCOME POTLUCK
Greetings, residents! Those more observant sorts among you may have noticed a large influx of very crowded ferries. In order to welcome our new residents en masse, Town Hall is holding a potluck in Town Square. Please bring a dish if you are able and make a new friend!
All of our newest arrivals need only bring themselves. We look forward to welcoming you all into our community, and may your lanterns always be lit.
This event is open to all! In light of our new influx of prospective players following the Great Sail Migration, we've decided to offer a small public event to tide everyone over until the TDM this weekend.
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Which isn't true. Sometimes he still wakes up gripping at himself, checking if he remembered to stitch himself back up when he cut his own liver out. But that's a lot to place on the good Father, when he himself still can't decide whether it really happened.
"I hope they turn up, anyway. I go to say a joke and then I look and Trap isn't there to finish it. Not to mention all the paperwork I have to do myself now."
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(It’s just as well that this Hawkeye still can’t imagine worse than their lot in Korea. His only hope is that if Mulcahy gets hurt, he won’t mind that he can’t stand being sedated anymore.
He will always be proud that the only one to outlast him was Vickie, but oh, Lord, what cost does a deathless martyrdom come with. This is a debt with fearsome interest that he will never lift from his shoulders.)
He’s quiet for too long.
Eventually: “… Well, I, uh, I’m not doing much these days, so perhaps I could help.”
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He gestures, "I would've thought you'd want to go back to proper preaching. Not that I'm complaining, it would be nice to have you around, but don't... feel obligated either, y'know?"
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… he’s doubted his efficacy as a preacher for a long time. In Korea, but especially after. It’s hard to imagine what good it’s done in that damned ship or that Village, especially for things to end up the way they did, and he’s—the last many years of mass and sermons were held in Vickie’s mockery of a home and strangled by Two’s imagined morality enforced by injury and death. He’d done his best to toe the line as close as he could, but what… what good was it? Did anyone actually care? It wasn’t bad that hardly anyone ever showed up, if another passenger wasn’t of or fallen from a different faith they were a delightful miscreant, but—
…
He thinks of Darcy in the dark, asking for a hug.
“I’m not sure I have much of a flock here to preach to,” he laughs lightly. “I’m certainly not giving up on being a priest, but delivering sermons to a pew isn’t much of a job.”
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"In the meantime, I'm happy to pay you to do my secretary work. I won't even set a miniskirt dress code, because I'm that nice."
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A short, warm chuckle.
“Ah… but I do think I’ll have to commission a tailor for my vestments. And a silversmith for my crucifix, for that matter. Do you happen to know any, Hawkeye?”
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"Keep it in the back pocket if mass attendance gets too low, eh?"
A little shove on the shoulder.
"Tailor, we have Annabel Lee for, but I don't know about any silversmith. Maybe the forge? The Infernal ah- maybe not, actually."
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