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pumpkinhollow ([personal profile] pumpkinhollow) wrote in [community profile] ph_logs2025-02-15 09:27 pm

February Event - Garden of Woe [Merrymeet]

**Plain text version here.
GARDEN OF WOE
To Meet is Merry...
It’s a beautiful day. Normally Merrymeet is held a tad later in the month, but thanks to some predictions from Phil, the festival planning committee managed to snag a date right in the middle of a patch of lovely warm days. A false spring --- there would be another snow by the following week. But it’s the first hint of a true spring waiting in the wings. The sun is shining, the grass on the festival green is slowly waking up, snowdrop flowers wobble in the breeze, and the weather is approaching something akin to balmy. It's as if Celestine herself carried in her opposite-most sister on a warm breeze, just for today.

Partygoers trickle in from all sides, gathering at the Festival Green. Each and every soul is dressed in their spring finest. And when Juniper Sweetwater once again ascends the steps to the gazebo, the crowd falls silent. The procession is about to begin.

Dress to Impress Generally speaking, the dress code for Merrymeet is garden party formalwear. Appropriate outfits can fall anywhere in the Classic or Lavish categories. Characters here less than 2 months are able to get free rentals if they’d like, but can buy their outfit if they wish. Everyone else is asked to please purchase their outfit (from 300-500B, depending upon complexity).

Short on Brass? Drop by Gourd en Glace before the event and grab yourself a sundae and bring it up to Venka Meridell, the proprietor who also happens to be the local tailor’s daughter. She’ll slip you a coupon for a half-price Merrymeet outfit if you’re willing to taste test one of her unorthodox new ice cream flavors. Her mother, Saraya, will begrudgingly accept these coupons. [Mod Note: Please only take this option if you have 500B or less in your ledger, we are trying to get some of these rich-ass characters to spend their damn money!]

Once you’re all dressed to the nines, please feel free to use the code below to show off your drip in the Fashion Show thread!

Crowning of the Flower Queen Once Mayor Poe gives the signal, a band begins to play, signalling the entrance of the Floral Court. A hush falls over the crowd as they watch the nominees enter, one at a time and escorted by their chosen companion. Many beloved community figured were nominated this time, and competition was stiff--- the crowd is eager to see who is named their Flower Queen.

Then, the procession begins in earnest as each member of the Floral Court (Valdis, Ylva, Margaret, Lyubov, CT, Alice, Fever, Magne, Olivia, Anya, and Helena) is escorted through the festival green and up to the gazebo. Standing at the top of the short flight of gazebo stairs is Juniper Sweetwater, a poised and delicate Wood Elf with pale brown hair. Gracing each pair with a greeting of “hail and merry meet”, she places a small ring of flowers upon the brow of each member of the court, and hands each one a matching boutonniere or corsage to bestow upon her plus-one. Juniper lets each pair file into the gazebo to take their seats.

Then some of the other leading ladies arrive and do much the same--- first, Drelasa, who won third place, and then Elsie and Sally, who tied for second. Behind them is Sally’s toddler Gwen, who is “escorted” (carried) by her older brother Yellow, both of whom are invited to join as special guests. Juniper takes a moment to bestow each of the women with a slightly larger crown, and a bouquet decorated with a ribbon indicating their place and a brass or silver charm as a token of their achievement.

Finally, the last to enter is the Flower Queen herself. The music swells as this year’s Queen, Dahlia Leeds, is escorted by her Courtier, Radar O’Reilly. A murmur sweeps over the onlooking crowd of surprise and excitement as Dahlia proceeds through the parted crowd. Once one of the most beloved people in town, Dahlia has barely been seen outside her home since her fall from grace at her birthday gala. And when she has, she’s looked sallow and miserable, a husk of herself. And yet here, today, she looks utterly radiant--- aside from the fact that she is very obviously weeping, utterly overcome with emotion at the fact that so many of her neighbors and friends still accept her. Tears of surprise, joy, relief, and gratitude pour down her face in thick streams that she cannot contain as she makes her way down the aisle with Radar, both of them dressed ornately in delicate blue.

The pair are showered with flower petals as they follow the winding trail, applauded quietly by festival goers before they reach Juniper. Fluidly, she swaps places with Dahlia so that the new Flower Queen is the one stood at the top of the stairs and the prior is on the ground.

“Hail and merry meet.” Juniper curtsies. “Today, just as I was two years ago, you have been chosen by the people of our town to be the Flower Queen. It is my honor to present you with gifts befitting a queen.”

Another townsperson passes her a basket, which Juniper presents to Dahlia. It contains a number of spring-themed treats--- honey harvested from last spring’s flowers, a bottle of specially crafted sweet festival wine to be consumed on the summer solstice, a candle embedded with dried flowers, a blend of lavender and bergamot tea, a charming floral soap, and a necklace with a pressed forget-me-not inside a clear pendant. There is also a medal hanging around the wine bottle shaped like an orchid bloom, engraved on the back with text. “Flower Queen 16:55 - Pumpkin Hollow - Dahlia Anastasia Leeds”. Juniper then passes the somewhat heavy basket off to Radar to carry--- after all, it’s the Courtier’s job to attend to the Queen!

Then, Juniper pins a boutonniere to Radar’s lapel, and beneath it, a medal of his own. “Floral Courtier - 16:55 - Radar O’Reilly”.

“With this sprig of Serannai’s glory, I bestow upon you the honored duty of Courtier to the Flower Queen. Assist her as she needs and ensure that she spends this day as free and joyful as a spring breeze.”

Lastly, Juniper turns back to Dahlia and takes up a crown of flowers, larger and more elaborate than the others, holding it aloft for a moment before resting it upon Dahlia’ss head.

“With this crown, I pass my title on to you. May it bring you felicity and fortune, so that you may share it with the earth as you put seed to soil.”

Before letting them go, Juniper leans in, beaming and grasping Dahlia’s hand tightly with the warmth of someone who has known her their whole life, and whispers, “Congratulations!” Then, she takes a step back, hurrying delightedly off into the crowd, leaving Dahlia to stand and look over the crowd of her friends, her neighbors, her loved ones, so many of whom have still chosen to embrace her. For a moment, all she can do is stand in awe.

Applause rings out over the crowd, music swells once more, and Merrymeet officially begins. Congratulations to Dahlia, and all the members of the Floral Court!

Eat, Drink, Be Merry! It doesn’t take long for lunch to be brought out, courtesy of some helpful volunteers and the Oak & Iron’s diligent cooking staff. Salads full of spring greens, fresh bread with herbs baked in, puff pastries with fresh cheese and asparagus, egg tarts, chicken sandwiches, and crispy little hashbrowns formed into cups to look like bird nests, each with a devilled egg sitting inside. There are also dozens of little desserts made with flowers and spring berries, like cakes and custards, and even heart-shaped macarons.

And while there is wine being passed around the table, there is also tea. But this isn’t just any tea, and these aren’t just any tea pots. The pots are clear glass, surrounded by ornate silver fixtures, so that you can see the color of the tea and the leaves steeping within. Some are regular tea leaves rolling around in ball strainers while others are blooming floral teas perched in the center of the pots. And best of all, these teapots are enchanted courtesy of Dr. West, looking like chubby little tea puppies walking around on four short metal legs. They meander around between dishes on the tables, bumbling up to partygoers to offer their contents and tipping forward with surprising grace to pour tea into cups. They are helpfully labeled with tags tied to their handles, explaining what they contain.

While a few contain typical tea blends, others are marked as containing enchanted teas, provided by Aeryn Sallek. The enchanted blends are as follows:

Party Enhancer - An energizing and sweet lemon hibiscus tea that makes the drinker able to dance longer, sing louder, eat more, and worry less. Turn down your inhibition and turn up the fun! This is a great tea for people who want a little party boost without getting drunk.

Liquid Courage - Feeling too shy to dance? Nervous about asking that beautiful person to spend the day with you? Want to go for that first kiss but struggling to work up the nerve? This smooth lavender black tea will help!

Romance Reagent - For those looking to be a little more flirty or emotionally open, this rose milk tea has a higher concentration of the “emotional acuity” potion to help you be open with your true feelings and get your cuddle on. And this denser dose of potion will even have the added effect of making you a little more suave, as well.

Sultry Spice - For those looking to find someone nice and invite them somewhere more private. This warming apple spice tea literally just has a mild aphrodisiac in it.

Enjoy any of these with your meal to turn up the mood! While these teas are clearly labeled, it's up to you whether or not you actually read them. Accidents can happen!

Eating isn’t all there is to do, of course. The other primary activity is dancing!

Local musicians will be playing throughout the day for group and couple’s dances, including a local partner dance called the Sunrise Waltz and a classic maypole dance. Feel free to dance the afternoon away with partners, friends, new acquaintances, and more!

There’s also areas to catch your breath and chat with friends, a chocolate dipping station, flower sprouts in tiny pots as party favors, flower garland braiding areas, and plenty of wine! Additionally, there are a few flower-filled tents on the festival green with private seating areas for couples to catch a few moments alone. You’re not supposed to, but if you’re quiet and don’t mind a bit of risk, it wouldn’t be hard to sneak a little naughty fun into your day in these little tents.

And of course, there is the planting ceremony later in the day, so feel free to join Dahlia and Juniper at the edge of the green for this short tradition! With an apron thrown over her dress and a short spade, Dahlia takes a moment out of the festivities to plant a tulip bulb in a half-empty row near the gazebo, right next to the one Mary Dahl planted the year prior, and Juniper herself the year before that.

...But Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
Ballad of the Damned Would any event on a cursed island truly be complete without some sort of unscrupulous paranormal activity? Truly, nothing is sacred (except maybe the Dance of Celestine, once), as yet another of Dahlia’s infernal relatives arrives bearing “gifts” to put a damper on her special day.

As night begins to fall, the afternoon band is finally given time to rest and retire to the party themselves, intended to be replaced by a Council-approved evening band. However, said musical group is waylaid on their way to the stage, and replaced with an act far stranger.

On the left part of the stage, a man with pipes embedded in his chest begins to sing a low note, accompanied by a deep, rich harmony as though his chest were a pipe organ. Perhaps it is. On the right side, an older man who almost looks human, save for the exposed “ribcage” full of harpstrings. And at the front, a pale woman dressed all in white with a veil covering all but her mouth, who sings like an angel over the music of her companions. The man in charge and his large sitar are conspicuously absent.

When Sonata begins to sing, two things begin to happen. The first is that black, thorny vines emerge from the slumbering ground, encasing the performers in thick foliage with gaps only big enough for the sound of their music to escape, and thorns big enough to ward off any interruptions. The second is that anyone who can hear the music will find that the sound floods their mind with memories of grief, pain, loss, and loneliness. So intense are these memories and emotions that even the most strong-willed can barely keep from weeping, with only a few exceptions.

Those with protection from demons will find their suffering great, but not debilitating, and Father Mulcahy’s boon from Mortanne and personal experience combined are enough to offset the more soul-crushing effects of the somber music. However, these things alone will not be enough. With the infernal band protected, the Domain of Sorrow’s Song will continue leeching anguish from the party-goers for their master for as long as they can. The only way to combat them is to cut off their source of power through self-imposed joy--- a challenging task, given the situation.

Luckily, a friend from outside the barrier interested in helping his daughter has sent some friends to help you get started.



March of the Bizzyboys Five Drainfolk in red uniforms find themselves in a forest. Little teal-furred monkey-folk with long hair and longer tails stand amid pink trees and a gaggle of little fuschia butterflies. Their names are Vibiano, Grujaja, Bananathaniel, Alexei, and Patty--- mysteries, until recently, revealed a few letters at a time. The wind sings like bamboo wind chimes through the pastel branches.

The butterflies swarm together, forming the shape of a person, and from the flock emerges a strange man. With chitinous hands and a face covered in dark pink wings, he steps free of the fluttering mass and onto a stump, wearing long fur robes, and he smiles a toothy smile.

“Hello there, Bizzyboys! I am King Olwylder, Archfae of the Court of Red Butterflies,” he says with a sweeping bow. Then, he leaps down from his makeshift stage, his own enormous wings splayed out behind him. He lands crouching, diminishing his impressive height to get onto their level. “I have a very important favor to ask you.”

“You see, some old friends of yours, as well as my beloved daughter Elsie, have been caught up in a bit of trouble. I need you to go to a little town called Pumpkin Hollow for the evening and help them out. Afterwards, you can stay there a while, or not, if you prefer. But during the flower festival they have going on, I need you five little darlings to do me a very, very important favor, and do what you do best. I need you to solve a mystery. Can you help me?”

Once all five Bizzyboys have agreed, Olwylder shakes each of their fuzzy hands and thanks them profusely, covering their red uniforms in pink flowers before sending them on their very merry way. They ride to Pumpkin Hollow on the back of a black horse, driven by a man with no head, and fan out in search of their old bosses as well as Olwylder’s daughter.

The five original Bizzyboys, played as guest NPCs, arrive at Merrymeet just before the band begins to play, and are immune to all of its effects due to the blessing of King Olwylder and sheer adorable whimsy. Threading with one of them can help you acquire the self-made fun you need to break the spell yourself, which you can then spread to others! These delightful shenanigans have been graciously provided by five helpful players, so please thank Liz, Sid, Mira, Maniette, and Kai for their assistance in making the magic happen! Once the event ends, it will be up to each player whether their Bizzyboy remains in PH or heads back home.
| CONTENT WARNINGS: altered states of consciousness, mildly dubious consent, grief, depression, mood control |
soldierslikeus: (excited grin)

Major Margaret Houlihan | MASH

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-02-20 06:54 pm (UTC)(link)

Flower Court

Margaret is little surprised by her not placing in the voting, being new as she is, but that doesn't mean she isn't enjoying the attention that comes with being part of the procession. There's a smile on her face as she walks alongside Father Mulcahy and takes her place at the head table. She feels much more at home in the sleek olive green dress she chose for herself than the puffy pink thing she tried to wear for Scully not that long ago, and there's even something freeing about not having bothered to try and find male companionship that's anything more than friendly to join her.

After her first month here took such an odd and horrible turn, with the nightmares and all that, it's nice to take a day.

"This is all quite lovely, isn't it."

Be Merry

Margaret is far too dubious of the apparent magical teas to touch them, but she's not shy about drinking the wine and she continues to loosen up as she does. The food, of course, is delightful, and while she doesn't overeat she takes her share and can be found over at the chocolate dipping station on and off throughout the day indulging in its sweet offerings.

When she's not snacking or sat at the head table, she's seeking out dance partners—friends and acquaintances first and foremost, but she'll gladly take up with someone else looking for someone to dance with. She just wants to get out there.

(And if she keeps finding herself looking just as often at the well-dressed women around the green as she does the men, during moments of rest, then, well, she's just appreciating all the fashion on display. Obviously.)

Ballad of the Damned

How she hates to cry in public.

Absurd, really, that such a thing is her first thought as the melancholy overwhelms her and sets sudden tears rolling down her cheeks that she has no hope to control. But she always has been so worried about appearances and finding herself all but falling to her knees beneath the force of the emotion, it's the most normal thing she can find in her to think.

Hard to trace all the routes the sorrow takes through her mind. The patients all blur together, young men—boys, really, most of them only boys—who never made it out the hospital doors alive, or left permanently changed, or went right back to the frontlines only to wind up in the OR all over again. The feeling of never quite living up to her father's expectations and legacy, the daughter who should have been a son. Men who love and leave, a piece of her heart left behind every time.

No, no. This can't do. She tries, and largely fails, to pull herself back to her feet.

Wildcard

Hit me.

theydrewfirstblood: (smile{ gentle)

Flower Court, Or *collects all the MASH cast like Pokemon*

[personal profile] theydrewfirstblood 2025-02-20 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"...yeah, it actually is."

Which is slightly surprising for John to admit with any real sincerity, given how his last Merrymeet had gone. This time he's here with a greater feeling of purpose as Serranai's paladin, the glass bead encasing a flower and the wood leaf from Elsie on full display hanging around his neck, and the green brocade waistcoat all but marking him as a creature of the spring.

Last year, he'd been freshly back from Vietnam a second time, unsure of the future and still at odds with Sam. Now, he's got faith, purpose, partners and lovers alike, and a family. A real one, not just the chicken scuffing around at his feet in her little flower crown, but Kitty and Radar and Edgar. Good kids, all of them...guys like Alex, Hawkeye, even Father Mulcahy--brothers in arms and in spirit.

So, much as it startles him, the idle question from the beautiful platinum blonde beside him makes him realize that...yeah. This is...lovely.

"Not used to that--military." he explains, offering the woman his hand. "John Rambo, I run Baker Ranch in Northwest Hollow--and this lovely lady is Co."

Co, resplendent in her little flower crown where she's wandering around near John's feet, looks up at the woman primly.

Bukbuk? Buk.

You may pay homage to your Chicken Queen, nice lady.
soldierslikeus: (talking)

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-02-22 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)

Margaret accepts the hand with a firm, well-trained sort of handshake—the kind of handshake that you get as the daughter of a career military man who drilled proper military etiquette into you.

"Ah, another military man. Major Margaret Houlihan, I work with Hawkeye at the clinic," she says, before letting go. Her gaze does flick to Co down at his feet, but this is clearly another woman who does not have experience with farm animals. "Baker Ranch is where I'm told Corporal O— Radar spends a lot of his time."

theydrewfirstblood: (grin{ happy)

[personal profile] theydrewfirstblood 2025-02-27 08:37 pm (UTC)(link)
The military style handshake just barely gives John pause--which is down to the good hearts of the 4077 in town. He's never going to be wholly comfortable around regular military he doesn't know well, but that barely there hope is right in the back of his head before she mentions her rank and Hawkeye in the same breath before bringing up Radar.

Regular Army, he can see it all over her now, but he still relaxes visibly and grins, brightening as he shifts his handshake to instead bring her hand to his lips for a slightly more playful, but absolutely innocent kiss to her knuckles before releasing her.

"They sure know how to make a major in the medical units." he quips. "Hawkeye's a close friend, so's the padre--Radar's family at this point. Far as I'm concerned, anyone from the 4077 is so don't be a stranger...ease off, Co, Margaret's one of ours. Be nice."

Co looks up at John, up at Margaret again, then with a petulant little buk stops trying to peck around Margaret's shoes and settles in the grass to nest quietly near John's feet instead.
abhorrently: (forest.)

court.

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-02-25 11:09 am (UTC)(link)
"It's absolutely incredible."

Though Fever doesn't recognize her, there were a few names on the ballot that had been unknown, and so she's now curious which of the named this woman is. The smile on the stranger's face is enough to pull one out of Fever, and she gestures with a hand at the entire gazebo.

"This is my first Merrymeet too - I've never seen a festival like it."

Technically cheating, when one doesn't remember, but she'll take an advantage.

"Or gotten a seat in the front like this either."
soldierslikeus: (quietly amused)

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-02-25 10:00 pm (UTC)(link)

"Me neither—not really. Oh I've seen parades and the like, and we've put on little events for the kids that come through, sometimes, but otherwise my experience is in more formal sorts of things. Or," she laughs, "the even less formal."

Military brat turned career military. She had her wildest years and then she was in the service proper.

"This is much more... floral," is not really the word she was looking for, but it'll have to do. She looks to the other woman and offers a hand to shake. "I don't believe we've met. Major Margaret Houlihan."

abhorrently: (now.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-02-28 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
"Fever Clayton," she responds, taking Margaret's hand and giving a quick shake. "We haven't, but I'm glad to correct that."

She's heard that name in passing, hasn't she? But where, she's forgetting. Probably isn't important, with the woman right in front of her. Margaret looks practically radiant here - there's no shame in noticing that. She makes a lovely addition to the table.

"I can think of far less pleasant ways to make an acquaintance."
soldierslikeus: (talking)

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-03-13 06:11 pm (UTC)(link)

"Oh, yes, far less pleasant ways. Most of my recent acquaintances were made in a war zone, just for one." Though having seen a few new faces through the nightmares tops even that for least pleasant ways to meet anyone, not that she wants to dwell on such things.

"Fever. That's quite an unusual name."

abhorrently: (grace.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-03-15 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"It is, but it's the only name I can recall having."

Which is more true than Margaret knows, but she's already planned in the timeline to accidentally say too much to one person today. What's wrong with doing it twice?
soldierslikeus: (considering)

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-04-06 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)

"Well I suppose it would be, unless you've a habit of changing your name when too drunk to recall," Margaret says, taking it more as humorous phrasing of the obvious than a nod toward amnesiac status. "It reminds me more of the sort of nicknames that develop around an army unit over time. Which makes it none more unusual than I'm used to hearing after all, I suppose."

abhorrently: (roll.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-04-14 12:14 pm (UTC)(link)
"Is there any rhyme or reason to the sort of nicknames that people take on? Color me curious - I've never had the opportunity to be around a unit."

At least, not one that Margaret would recognize with any authority.
soldierslikeus: (chinhands sideways)

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-05-03 04:11 pm (UTC)(link)

"Well, now, that depends. Some of them you can understand just by looking at a person, some of them follow directly from some incident or another, others make no real sense at all unless you understand the mind of the person who started it. Our Radar got his on account of his uncanny hearing, but I've known others named things like Soap, or Blister, or so on, so forth."

She gestures loosely, leaving the unfavourable stories or personality traits that could lead to those up to the imagination.

"Generally speaking the more impressive the nickname, the more ridiculous or terrible the story behind it. I knew once of a 'Bullseye' who was known for... let's say his virility."

That's a somewhat more polite way to say 'kept having illegitimate children through one night stands'.

abhorrently: (star.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-05-11 01:16 am (UTC)(link)
Our Radar. Something about that turn of phrase feels comfortable and real, something that Margaret could not have known but nevertheless applies. She'll have to quietly ask him his opinion on Margaret later before she drops the revelation that she's known the young man for months.

But she's listening, letting her talk, and the unrefined snort she lets out at Bullseye is something she really can't help.

"That's terrible. And I love it. Makes me glad there isn't a story I know about my name."
soldierslikeus: (quietly amused)

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-05-11 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)

"Yes, it is probably for the best. I can hardly imagine what creative reason would be behind yours." Besides the most obvious illness connection. "Though I can easily imagine you walking into camp 'Fever' and leaving it... Pneumonia or the like."

Having an odd name to start with definitely does not save you from them finding a way to make it weirder.

abhorrently: (dusk.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-05-16 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
"Or Flu, gods forbid."

This conversation will come back to her months later.
daemoniumexmachina: (efrain)

Ballad of the Damned

[personal profile] daemoniumexmachina 2025-02-27 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
A pair of nearly-skeletal hands, covered in ragged, graying skin, wrap around Margaret’s arms.

Then another pair of hands do the same, a few inches down.

“This place means to make a fool of you, Margaret,” says a soft voice from behind her. Soft enough to be mistaken for the voice of her conscience. “All the respect you worked so hard for. The image you put so much effort into curating. It’s all for nothing. Isn’t that cruel? You have to work two, three times as hard as everyone around you to be treated with dignity, and it’s all crushed to powder over a few tears. What a waste. What foolish nickname will they reduce you to this time, I wonder?”
soldierslikeus: (upset disbelief)

[personal profile] soldierslikeus 2025-03-01 02:30 am (UTC)(link)

A shiver runs down Margaret's spine and over every limb besides, and where she may have attempted to jerk against the strange, haunting hands, she finds herself without the energy to do more than tense up.

Even as the skeletal digits press against her skin, it's hard to fully connect them to the voice. The tears keep coming, rolling down pale cheeks in thick rivulets.

"No," she gets out, and speaks like some affirmation she's said to herself before: "I-I don't need any of them. I'm just f-fine on my own."