[OPEN, Mingle] Yamsgiving

[lasthumanvoice]

Who: Cecil and EVERYONE
What: Another Harvest Celebration
When: Beginning of Pumpkinfest
Where: Center of town
Warning(s): Discussion of the Gala and its attendant CWs may come up

1. Yes, we're happy as fish [Food Prep, Oak and Iron kitchen]
Cecil's made a point of seeking out the best known chefs in town to help him put everything together for this meal. While sweet potato dishes are the star, at least one available with every course, he's hoping to hit a broad variety so everyone can find something they like. He, of course, is peeling and chopping his eternal sweet potato to make sure there's enough to go around.

(Of course you don't need to worry about him with a knife! He's fine! Don't you know he was once a boy scout?)

If someone needs an extra hand for their dishes, though, he's happy to lend one. There's an attitude of camaraderie and cheer in the room, with Cecil even breaking out singing at one or two points in the evening.


2. And gorgeous as geese [The Meal; Festival Green]
Everyone's invited to the feast. That is, in fact, the whole point. Cecil's always been pointedly neutral in the town's tensions, working as the most unbiased media monkey he can. He's the Voice of Pumpkin Hollow, and that means not taking sides between Dahlia and Neil and the Temple and whoever else. But after the gala, he's made a choice to act, to try to foster goodwill and warm feelings. This isn't the stone stew he offered during January's famine, this is a Redwall-style feast.

So, between glasses of mead from Kasprak Farm and dandelion wine, everyone is invited to fill their plate with candied yams and zucchini bread, roast chicken and venison donated by one of the Enforcers. There's a homemade cranberry sauce with citrus wedges and dandelion-leaf salad with an apple cider vinaigrette and toasted acorns for garnish. There's pasta with a homemade pesto sauce and cheese. Desserts, too, are plentiful, some even flavored with...chocolate. But many are not, and feature sweet potatoes. Muffins, pies, etc.

Find a table with a friend or a stranger, and indulge. This is a warm-fuzzy type thing--feel free to use it as a mingle.


3. And wonderfully clean in the morning [Cleanup; Also Festival Green]
Cecil is, quite honestly, expecting to be the only person to stay and clean up. He's been up since about five in the morning and he's dragging a bit at this point. Oh, he did take the time to eat, so he's not starving, but like. He could use help putting the Green back to rights.


4. We've got everything, we're growing everything [Cecil Wildcards]
[You know how to find me to plot.]

Comments

John Rambo | 1 for Cecil & OTA elsewhere

[theydrewfirstblood]

Yes, we’re happy as fish (Cecil)

John is around the Oak & Iron more often thanks to dating one of the cooks—and his deliveries for the menu promotion—so he hears about Cecil’s plans. He hasn’t seen him much since the famine last year, but remembers him fondly…

…and brings some game for the meal. He also hangs around long enough during prep to worry about Cecil and that knife.

Cue John gently laying a hand on his wrist to restrain him when one enthusiastic cut of the sweet potato gets too close to the tip of his thumb for John’s liking.

“Hey, uh…you want some help?” He asks with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

The Meal

John’s side of choice for the meal is a big basket of fry bread and a couple bottles of dandelion wine. He reaches out to Laios and Siebren to see if they want to come—and on impulse even calls Dr. Coldwood to encourage him to come.

Whether or not John can manage to actually eat anything is a crap shoot—but he’s here to socialize for sure.

Wildcard

[Choose Your Own John!]

[lasthumanvoice]

"Oh, I'm fine. I've worked with this sweet potato for about nine months now."

...yes, this one specific sweet potato.

"But if you really want to help, I won't say no. I saw you brought some meat, too. Did you have plans for how you want that handled?"

[theydrewfirstblood]

“The same…”

John blinks, tips his head in confusion—then dismisses the remark. He knows better than to question a statement like that…

“I brought some thicker cuts for a roast.” John replies instead, settling for reaching around him, shifting Cecil’s grip on the sweet potato so he can keep his fingers out of the way while he cuts—at least further out of the way.

“Haven’t caught any turkeys out there, so I figured it would be a nice alternative, y’know?”

[lasthumanvoice]

"There's geese. They can't migrate for the winter, so they're stuck on the island. But for now, a roast will be perfect for the feast." Cecil pauses in his cutting, looking up to give John a bright, appreciative smile. "Besides, we're not beholden to American ideals of Thanksgiving tradition here. This is an entirely different celebration, for an entirely different reason."

[theydrewfirstblood]

“Yeah? What’s that?” John asks, endeared by that smile. Cecil is…a strange dude, but he’s hard to not like. You can’t hate him, dislike him, or even have a neutral opinion. He’s too goddamn…genuine.

“Or you mean the anniversary of coming through the famine?” John asks, frowning thoughtfully as he picks up the wax paper wrapped package of meat he’d set on the counter. “Was that around this time? I still got three years and a couple continents between me and that.”

[lasthumanvoice]

"The famine was January, but this seems the right time to thank Celestine for helping to see us through."

He holds up the sweet potato demonstratively. If John's paying attention, Cecil's cut like, several cups of diced sweet potato off it. It is, however, completely whole and uncut right now.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John does take note—and the mention of Celestine makes him smile.

“Yeah?” He replies, reaching up to tug the leather cord from under his shirt to reveal Serranai’s talisman: a green glass bead encasing a flower, now accompanied by a leaf carved from wood hanging beside it.

“I serve Serranai.” He explains, his smile turning thoughtful. “So you do this for Celestine, huh? That’s a great idea. Maybe I should do something in the spring for her…”

[lasthumanvoice]

"I'm not like you, with Celestine. Not that close, not...serving her quite like that." There's something wary in how he says that, and he glances around to see who else might have heard that implication. There's something complicated going on that he hasn't tried to talk out with anyone.

He has a Jewish community. What would they think of his relationship with Celestine, in whatever form it may take?

"This is just a thank you, not any commitment. Besides, she probably wouldn't want me anyway, right?"

[theydrewfirstblood]

“Hey, why not?” John asks, setting to work doing some trimming of the roast—which isn’t much. “I mean, I get the personal side…I still don’t know what Serranai sees in me, but…”

He trails off, thinking about how to explain his own way of seeing it.

“Y’know I’m Catholic. Still am, even though I serve her…but my relationship with her is different than the one I have with God. I put my faith in him first, but I…love her. And if God is love, and I put my faith in him first, then loving her—he would respect that. Not forgive it or allow it, but welcome it as long as I don’t abandon him for her. Does that make sense?”

[lasthumanvoice]

Deep breath.

"Sure, it makes sense to me. But would it make sense to Lev and Anzu and Zivia? Would I still get invited to holidays with them? Or would I lose that little community, that small connection to my heritage? I didn't grow up with anyone like them to teach me how to be Jewish. Now, I'm getting to learn more than I did as a kid."

Cecil has talked about some of this, in the abstract, with Lev. Back during the flood, they say on the clock tower in the rain and cried together. But the specifics, he's avoided. The depth of his whatever-he-has with Celestine.

The meal

[spaghettification]

And so Siebren shows up. He's still not feeling entirely himself, but he's making a point of not hiding away entirely. He lingers near John at least part of the time, as much a floating shadow as certain ghost Pokemon.

"Should I have cooked something? I...am not very good at cooking."

[theydrewfirstblood]

John grins, aware of Siebren nearby before he hears him. Turning, he sways to the side and back so his shoulder presses against part of Siebren's chest in gentle reassurance.

"I'll show you a few things one of these days." he promises with a smile. "I only have the one recipe I make really well--the bread--and I brought meat I hunted besides. A roast is the easiest thing in the world to do, y'know?"

He turns towards him, reaching for his hand.

"This feels a lot like Thanksgiving back in my world--which is more about being together than anything. If you can cook, you do. If you can't? You can do other things, and if you can't do other things? You show up...it's more about celebrating the community, least that's how I see it."

[spaghettification]

Siebren lets his hand be claimed by John, laughing quietly. "Americans and your Thanksgiving. It's not your world, it's specifically your country that celebrates."

[theydrewfirstblood]

“Native American…Mom was Navajo.” John corrects with a grin as he squeezes Siebren’s hand affectionately. “I try to look at the spirit, not the history, when I celebrate.”

John kind of surprises himself then, so much so that he blinks in amazement.

“One of the few fun things my dad would do is no corn at the table. Cause of the whole Thanksgiving story—made Mom smile.”

[spaghettification]

"My mistake." He looks sheepish for a moment, and then squeezes John's hand back. "I've never met a Native American before. At least, not that I know of."

The woman who killed him, leading to his presence on Marrow Island, was half indigenous Canadian, but Siebren doesn't have the full context for her everything. All he knows is she was Overwatch.

[theydrewfirstblood]

"Oh, by now? You've done way more than meet one." John assures him with a slow, warm smile before lifting their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Siebren's. It still burns, touching, but he's enjoying some of it. The sear against the sensitive skin of his mouth, the slow tingle of it...

...and he likes this in particular, for Siebren. Kissing those hands that can do so much, including kill and consume demons. He thinks of those hands holding him above the dance floor, as he kissed John for the first time, unclouded by the darker things they had done.

"I'm only half, anyway, so I don't put much...sway on it, if that makes sense?" John continues as he lets their joined hands fall to rest between them again. "The Navajo are matrilineal, but I pass as white so I don't...I never took more stock in my heritage than I felt I was allowed. Did help when I got drafted, though--knew a kid on the res whose uncle was a code talker during WWII."

[howtheyshine]

Hi John, have a boyshaped Yellow wearing the jacket you gave him the first time he saw frost. It’s the primary reason he’s approaching John now, both hands around a plate full of food.

“Hey.” It’s a demand for attention rather than a hello. “I’m keeping this coat.”

In case he wasn’t sure.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John turns at the slightly sharp utterance, and comes face to face with the boy again.

He's not a boy. John knows that: he saw that. Still, he has an ignorance of the world that is on a moderately equivalent level to that of a child, so it doesn't feel wrong to think of him that way. He knows this individual is something other, but John figures he can strike a decent balance by just treating him the way he wanted to be treated at that apparent age.

So he smiles, warm and genuine--and at the insistence that he's keeping the coat, his smile grows.

"Good--one thing, though? If it's too big or not warm enough, you let me know. I'll help you find one that's more comfortable...and if you'll allow me, I'll even buy it for you. Just wanna help if clothes shopping isn't something you're used to."

[howtheyshine]

His expression trends slowly from hostile to confused to openly dismayed.

Yellow.exe has stopped working, encountered an error, has to close. His kindness receptors are overloading.

There's a moment of silence after John speaks, then a defensive, "A-Are you making fun of me?"

[theydrewfirstblood]

“No—I am absolutely not making fun of you.” John assures him, gentle and honest as he starts to reach out for the kid on instinct, then hesitates. He remembers, being that young…being that confused by kindness.

Your mother was Diné. That makes you Diné.

John takes a breath, then reaches out slowly to lay his hand on the kid’s shoulder, if he allows it.

“I was…maybe four or five years younger than the face you’re wearing when my mother died. Her people took care of teaching me about who I am, and I…I was very confused. I wasn’t used to people looking out for me. That was just their way, and they made me one of them…so that’s my way now. What I have to give, what knowledge I possess—I use it to help people. And I’d like to help you, if you let me.”

[howtheyshine]

He leans back just a little bit as John reaches for him, but the man's own hesitation and the very gentle way he rests his hand on Yellow's shoulder-- the entity doesn't duck or pull away.

Very confused is definitely how he's feeling.

"I don't have a mother," he mutters, like that somehow proves something. But it occurs to him very suddenly to wonder if that's true. What made the King in Yellow? Did something make him? And what does that mean now, if he's only a piece or a piece of a piece?

These are all questions! He doesn't! Like!

"Why? You don't-- need anything from me. You don't owe me." He looks away. "And if you're doing it b... because you owe someone else, I don't want that kind of help."

CW: allusions to child abuse, chronic pain

[theydrewfirstblood]

The more the kid talks, the more it hurts. Being the little boy asking to cut his hair like the men who knew Mom, explaining to one of the ladies at church who wasn't like the others, who hugged him tight and said Helga, look after him--Dad's anger that grew as time passed.

Anger that made every kindness more and more alien as time passed.

"Because if I didn't, it would feel as strange and wrong and confusing as it feels for you right now." John replies honestly. "Being kind to someone who would benefit from it...that makes sense to me. If it doesn't--if you need a reason, I can give you one. Real and concrete, all the ways that I've been hurt and messed up and ruined that I can fix by just--having people I can help. Here, like this..."

John slides his hand from the boy's shoulder down his arm to catch his hand, then fit it into his for a loose handshake.

"I haven't been touched enough--to the point I live with a lot of pain. This helps...saying hi to people with a handshake. So...hi. My name is John--there a name you'd like me to call you?"

[howtheyshine]

Yellow watches with cautious interest as the man maneuvers into a handshake. Feels strangely hypnotized as he talks. The gentle certainty bewitches him, leaves his defenses down for the body blow of John's introduction.

He folds in on himself a little with a half-hearted growl, the timbre of it unnaturally deep. He doesn't let go of the handshake, though. If this helps- helps John hurt less, it's not like it's painful for Yellow.

His name is John. Kind, gentle, patient John. John-who-is-better-than-him.

The words come out in a tangled mumble: "I'm just Yellow."

[theydrewfirstblood]

"Not just Yellow. You're Yellow." John replies in the same gentle tone, albeit a little more firm. "You're someone important, someone who deserves to be treated with respect...and with kindness...just like anyone else."

These were things John needed to hear in the aftermath of losing Mom. This kid just needs to hear them, period. This young creature--and he's young, John is starting to realize, his earlier and current strangeness less a show of power and more a lack of control--needs all the kindness he can get.

Cruelty is so much easier to understand, and so much easier to let in. God knows John's more aware of that than most.

"Which also means," he continues, "that you deserve a place to be safe. Up in Northwest Hollow, Baker Ranch--that's mine. And you're welcome to come up there any time you like. Grab some food, spend the night, or just run across the property, you can stay as long or as little as you want to. Don't have to ask, don't need permission. Only serious rule is be nice to the animals, and if you wanna contribute you can help around the house a little. Door's always open to you, so don't be scared to walk through it."

[howtheyshine]

"No," he says quietly. "No, I'm supposed to be a fucking king. The King in Yellow. But I'm--"

His laugh is possibly alarmingly sinister even though he's not laughing at anything in particular and everything in general.

"But I'm just Yellow. That's... all."

He is still holding onto John's hand, vision starting to blur and go pinkish. There's something unpleasantly warm on his face, and a touch from his free hand tells him it's--

"--blood? What the fuck? Is my eye melting?"

He squints one eye shut and tries to rub at it with his knuckle, smudging the gory tears around even more.

"And anyway, if you trust me, I'm sure you'd come to regret it."