Mingle - Emergency Potluck

[pumpkinhollow]

Pumpkin Hollow Community Bulletin

Main Nav | Permanent Bulletin | Calendar |

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.

Comments

[apocryphalarchivist]

Jon blinks, almost taken aback by the notion.

"I only didn't say so because--- of course it won't. Lot 37 is yours, Cecil. It was always my intention to make it so, and I have no want, need, or motivation to try to take that from you."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Not just that. You won't let things sit, that you discover. You won't buy people's stuff from Calloway and forget you have it. If you're going to try to help people by putting your money down for things that matter...you need to act on it right away. Directly with them. Not through others, not trying to hide the matter."

Because a significant amount of the distress had been not knowing who had possession of Lot 37 after it was sold. It was expecting to lose time and be put into use again, like Dana Mayor Cardinal someone back home had, repeatedly.

Someone who sees Fears might recognize this one, webby and thick, still has its grip on him tightly.

[apocryphalarchivist]

"Ah."

A beat, and Jon clears his throat a bit.

"Yes, of course. With the sending stones and a much more lax schedule with my crew, should it have happened now as opposed to back then, I-I don't think it would have gotten forgotten, but... you have my word. Should anything of deep importance be found, I'll get in touch immediately."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Not just with me. With anyone. With everyone. Please, Jon."

The anger is seeping out of him, but his usual levity isn't running back into the vessel to take its place. Cecil looks, if anything, incredibly tired right now, as if the grudge was a battery that had been powering him and now he's left with very little juice.

(It's okay, he can still despise Calloway freely.)

[apocryphalarchivist]

"Anyone. I swear it."

He's quiet, for a moment, before he speaks again. Any defensiveness is gone with Cecil's anger leaving him. It's a strange place to be in, after several months of harsh feelings - but it's the first step. Always got to start somewhere.

"I think, should anything else, ah... named appear, it'll be a discussion before any buying comes into place. To prevent this sort of thing."

[lasthumanvoice]

"That's...likely a good idea. Though if you had asked, I wouldn't have told you anything about Lot 37. I'm not happy that there's a significant number of people who know, beside me."

Cecil glances off to one side briefly, then back at Jon.

"You remind me of another Scorpio I know."

[apocryphalarchivist]

"Well, any knowledge of it stops with me. I don't intend to even acknowledge that it exists, to be honest with you."

Less headache that way, it goes unsaid.

The remark gives him pause, and he's half-bracing himself for some kind of insult. Curiosity kills, though. He's got to know.

"Who is it?"

[lasthumanvoice]

"My brother-in-law, Steve. He saw the hidden truths of the world, the workings behind some of the fucked up shit in Night Vale, and spoke up about them in a way that endangered him and everyone around him, including my sister and niece. I hated him for that. And I envied him his boldness."

And it's only now, outside his home, that he can admit to all of those feelings.

[apocryphalarchivist]

Was that almost... a compliment? Jon's not sure, but it certainly feels similar to one, as indirect as it may be. He doesn't remark on it, but that's kept in the mental notepad.

"You've not mentioned much of Night Vale, but... I'm sure, if it's as dangerous as it sounds, he was quite brave for doing so," Jon adds. "It's difficult to know that you risk the wrath of your loved ones to expose a grim truth, and to know you've got to do so regardless."

His matter-of-fact attitude has eased, taking a quiet, contemplative moment. Maybe it's Sight seeping through the cracks, even as he tries to look away from the knowing that lies just beneath the surface of Cecil's words, but the entire ordeal leaves lingering sadness. He gets the impression there's a great deal of that, back in Night Vale.

[lasthumanvoice]

"You're right, I haven't mentioned much. If I talk about it all, if I explain..." Cecil doesn't just shake his head, he shakes his everything all at once, bristling thoroughly at the very thought. "I can't. I can't. Even here, I can't. It's not safe. I'm not safe. And no one else will be safe."

The tone of his voice is panicked, and he shudders, pulling in on himself. The conditioning of a lifetime (several lifetimes?) in Night Vale runs so very deep.

[apocryphalarchivist]

The reaction clearly catches Jon off guard, and he blinks twice, owlishly. He can't imagine that something from one town could reach Cecil, so far away from the mortal world; then again, the Dread Fears reach here, even faintly. What type of place was Night Vale?

He won't ask, of course. He doesn't want to unintentionally pull that information past that barrier, to cause the pain of having something wrapped so tightly yanked out.

But he does furrow his brows, a mix of confusion and concern, and lowers his voice.

"I'm not sure what happened to you there, and I won't claim to know if what it is could reach you here. But..."

He weighs if he should offer. It could be seen as the olive branch he's offering, but it wouldn't be the first time someone's taken it as something much more sinister in intentions. At worst, he supposes that the grudge could come back. After the past few months, that's nothing new.

"If you cannot speak it, but struggle to bear the weight of it on your own, I could--- take it from you?" His offer comes with some stumbling, some fretting about coming off with purely intentions as an infovore, but he's clearly trying his best. "I won't unless directly and specifically asked, but... it's something I've done, before, with, um. Things that can't be said directly, for whatever reason. If this risk is too great, however, it won't be brought up again."

But he will wonder for a long, long time. That's neither here nor there, though.

[lasthumanvoice]

Cecil's expression is that one 'lady doing math' gif for a moment, unsure, confused by the very offer. And then he decides...not to resolve the matter right here and now, not when they've only just reached an accord.

"I'll think about it. Honestly, I will."

Which is an acceptance of the olive branch, even if not of the offer itself.

[apocryphalarchivist]

The olive branch being taken is enough for him. Tension eases from Jon's shoulders, even if very, very slightly.

"Of course. You know where to find me, if the time ever comes."

A beat, and a smile is offered. It's uneasy, but he's giving it his all.

"Thank you, Cecil. For talking to me, and... sorting all this out. I know it wasn't exactly easy."

[lasthumanvoice]

"For some people, forgiveness is easy. I'm not good like they are. I am very flawed, as a human being. But you already realized that." A hint of his usual warmth seeps into his manic smile.

[apocryphalarchivist]

Jon snickers, and gives a huff of a laugh.

"I can only judge so much on being a flawed person, considering I'm some kind of fucking monster." He jokes. Joking from Jonathan Sims, of all people, always falls a bit flat, but there's no troubled look about the notion, at least. "To be frank, as long as you haven't tried to kill me to settle whatever score we've got, I think we'll be quite alright."

[lasthumanvoice]

"I am not going to kill you. That's the least satisfying possible way of handling a grudge!" The most satisfying is hatesex, but that's entirely off the table here.

[apocryphalarchivist]

"Good! It'd be incredibly awkward, really." Jon snickers, putting on a mock-American accent. It wasn't a very good one. "'And how was your untimely demise this week?' 'Oh, fine, I suppose. It lacked the inspiration of last week's murder. Are you feeling alright? Everything okay at home?' It wouldn't exactly be the first attempted murder on my person, but definitely the first one where I couldn't exactly stay dead."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Your American accent sounds like it's coming out of the mouth of an American mannequin, rather than a real person."

But how can a mannequin sound like anything? It's plastic. It doesn't even have a voicebox, unless it borrows one.

"But seriously, Yorick's repeated untimely demises take up so much of my time and energy, I hardly have it in me to plan another person's."

[apocryphalarchivist]

"Aha, I knew someone must've been killing Yorick, or orchestrating his many deaths to some degree. You really ought to cut the poor man some slack. Hasn't he been through enough?"

He's let a full-fledged snicker rise to his face now, a marked improvement, considering everything. Sorry, Yorick, your deaths make a great continued ice-breaker for social mending. It's all for a good cause.