pumpkinhollow (
pumpkinhollow) wrote in
ph_logs2025-09-20 10:27 am
Entry tags:
September Event - Guest Appearances
GUEST APPEARANCES
Ignition
September 20th is the Autumnal Equinox. Many places across the world of Concorde celebrate the first day of fall. While various nations and regions have their own cultural practices surrounding it, nature is god everywhere. And so the inception of Mother Autumn’s domain is universally recognized, even if the names change from place to place. But on a little island named Marrow, in a little town called Pumpkin Hollow, there is another reason to celebrate.
The birth of Dahlia Leeds is not so important an event that it supersedes Celestine herself, and neither Dahlia nor anyone in town is foolhardy enough to claim as much. In fact, after the events on this very same day last year, one might argue that perhaps her birth at least started out as a bad thing. But she is certainly the wealthiest person in town. It is through the combination of substantial wealth and a generous heart, two things that are very seldom found in the same place, that we end up with a soiree where the birthday girl would rather spoil everyone else on her day than herself.
The doors to Leeds Estate, which presides proudly over the town upon its throne at the crest of Founder’s Hill, are flung wide open. Large sums of Brass are paid to caterers, florists, and seamstresses to make sure this place is decorated to the nines. Some businesses labor all year, just to prepare for the handsome payoff they’ll get from this event alone. And you, dear neighbor, are invited. Not only are you invited, but you are dressed for the event in whatever your heart desires, completely at the birthday girl’s expense. Dahlia ensures no cost nor conflict stands in between anyone in town and a much-needed break. She is determined for this birthday of hers to be a good night.
Or else.
The birth of Dahlia Leeds is not so important an event that it supersedes Celestine herself, and neither Dahlia nor anyone in town is foolhardy enough to claim as much. In fact, after the events on this very same day last year, one might argue that perhaps her birth at least started out as a bad thing. But she is certainly the wealthiest person in town. It is through the combination of substantial wealth and a generous heart, two things that are very seldom found in the same place, that we end up with a soiree where the birthday girl would rather spoil everyone else on her day than herself.
The doors to Leeds Estate, which presides proudly over the town upon its throne at the crest of Founder’s Hill, are flung wide open. Large sums of Brass are paid to caterers, florists, and seamstresses to make sure this place is decorated to the nines. Some businesses labor all year, just to prepare for the handsome payoff they’ll get from this event alone. And you, dear neighbor, are invited. Not only are you invited, but you are dressed for the event in whatever your heart desires, completely at the birthday girl’s expense. Dahlia ensures no cost nor conflict stands in between anyone in town and a much-needed break. She is determined for this birthday of hers to be a good night.
Or else.
Incipience
{ The timeframe between ignition and the peak of burning, where a small, contained fire spreads and grows gradually into an established flame. All it takes is a spark. }
The whole town is abuzz as preparations for the gala begin. From the moment people begin to wake up for the day, the air throughout Pumpkin Hollow just feels electric with excitement. After August, people have been needing this lift in morale, and after how last year’s gala went… well, there’s a lot riding on this one. And Dahlia seems much more in control now.Speaking of being in control, the whole lead-up process has been incredibly organized. You wake up to a delivery--- your outfit, perfectly tailored and completely paid for. Accessories are included. She truly thought of everything.
It’s noteworthy that Dahlia’s invitations this time included another name beneath her own. “Suzanne Marie Dyneax,” it said. Most people don’t know the name, but gossip gets around in a small town like this. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that this probably refers to Susie, one of the teenagers that Dahlia recently moved into her home, whose own birthday was ruined by Seemingly’s attack. Gift baskets have been delivered to others whose days were in proximity to the disaster--- Zivia, Capochin, even CT. Wine, fruit, and sweets, along with a birthday card. Dahlia has said in the past, “my birthday is your birthday,” but never has that felt more true.
With businesses mostly closed for the celebration, you are left with the majority of the day to prepare in relative peace. For many of the women in Dahlia’s inner circle, there is even a pre-party group dressing room set up on the third floor of her home. Only those who received her special invitation (Susie, Noelle, Fever, Cassandra, Anya, Alice, Patty, Melanie, Basira, Elsie) are permitted to join, but any friends or partners are gladly invited to wait at the bottom of the stairs for the girls to make their grand entrance.
The food is laid out, flowers placed, dresses laced and buttoned. The clock strikes 6pm, and the fun begins.
FLASHOVER
{ The moment when a blaze reaches its maximum size and heat, and the radiant heat in the space is such that all combustible materials ignite at once, allowing the flame to steadily and freely burn for the rest of the night. }
By the time it reaches 6:15, the ballroom is already flooded with eager dancers and hungry dinner guests. After all, the whole town is invited, and everyone’s excited to see Dahlia’s beautiful new ballroom and take a load off.The music is elegant, played by a rotating cast of musicians who join the party when their act is over. The food is extravagant--- Dahlia and two of her partners are some of the biggest foodies in town, so this is expected. There is talking and laughing and the swirling of ballgowns, and all is well.
But there is a guest you do not recognize in the corner of the ballroom. An older man with white hair, strong features, and a dour expression. You can see Dahlia eyeing him, then flitting over to him, then talking to him. Her expression shifts from anxious, to annoyed, to resigned, before at last she sighs heavily and leaves him to it. Whatever it is that’s going on, clearly it’s something Dahlia is willing to begrudgingly tolerate in order to get back to having fun.
The reason for the disturbance becomes clear in short order, but by the grace of Celestine (and perhaps Eligos), it isn’t a reality bending nightmare or an attack by some monstrous beings. It is simply more guests.
A lot more, in fact.
Those who were on the island in September of the previous year will recall the Visitor’s Center, which appeared briefly just past the beach and served as temporary living and meeting quarters for visitors from the homeworlds of current residents. It would seem that this is a repeat incident. For the night of the gala, one to two “plus ones” have been invited for the vast majority of offworld residents. Most of them are friends or family who are happy to see their guests--- but this is ultimately a working of Eligos, so naturally, this is not always the case.
At the very least, Eligos seems to have been generous with his own granddaughter. As she turns away from him, she very nearly runs into someone much shorter than her. A dark haired human man with dwarfism. He laughs at the accident, grinning up at her as she stares back at him, utterly baffled. Then, petticoats billowing out, Dahlia sinks to the floor and embraces him as tight as she can, head pressed to his chest with little regard for her carefully-styled hair. Even those across the room can hear her shout his name. ”Jonah!”
Within the hour, the ballroom is packed with nearly double the people originally expected, turning the party livelier than it’s ever been. Tearful reunions, laughter, dancing, mischief, romance, sparring, cruelty, and even proper, righteous violence. Truly, this Leeds Gala will be one for the books!
[ OOC reminders: each apped-in player character is entitled to one or two guests from their homeworld. This can be former selves, family, friends, enemies, and they do not have to be from the character’s exact canonpoint. They can be from the past or the future. You may play them yourself, ask another member player to do it, or recruit a non-member player to do so with moderator approval. Non-member players are permitted to join the Discord server while they’re active in this event! Threads you write for your own guests are eligible for AC for the character they’re there with, and threads you write for someone else’s guest can be used on the AC of a character of your choice. Just make sure to mark them as guest threads. After the gala, guests will be allowed to move freely about town, stay the night on Saturday and go home Sunday, or leave right after the gala if preferred. And last but not least, characters played in the gala can be apped directly from this event, rather than going through the normal arrival process. Let a mod know if you have questions, and have fun! ]
Smoldering
{ The decay of a flame as available heat, oxygen, and burning material gradually diminish. Eventually, the flames will recede entirely into glowing embers, glittering like orange starlight amid the ashes of what once was. }
The party rages well into the night. It’s not typical for residents of Pumpkin Hollow to stay out this late, with everything around here that goes bump in the night, but eventually party-goers begin to find their way out. They move in small groups, huddled around lanterns, may they ever stay lit. Perhaps the surprising bit is that their guests can go with them. There are even reservations made for board overnight at the Oak & Iron, all under the name “E. Rex”.But alas, these reservations are only booked for one night. And by the time the sun begins to set on the darker half of the year for the first time, an unfamiliar black boat is moored at Jack's Marina. One that the guests will recognize as the vessel on which they arrived. They must leave by the time it becomes dark.
Or must they? Perhaps for a select few, they will fail to feel the call which draws them home. It is unclear why. There are many that Mortanne would have allowed residency for, if she could. But for some reason, all but a small few feel the pull. Perhaps Eligos has simply abandoned them here. (Or maybe none at all end up marooned and everyone goes home? That all depends on you, dear reader.)
When the sky goes dark, the aptly named Heavy Heart shoves off, with only her crimson sails hanging suspended seemingly in midair in the moonlight. The black ship is otherwise consumed by the night. And soon, even those flashes of red vanish into the distance.
Moments recede into memories, like a dying fire settles gently into glowing embers at the bottom of a hearth. The festivities are over, and the guests are gone. Life in Pumpkin Hollow resumes as before. But maybe just a little warmer and brighter.
“My birthday is your birthday,” as Dahlia often says.
Happy birthday.
References to the appearance of Leeds Estate can be found here!

King || Godpoke's Guest [ Great God Grove Spoilers ]
This is King Khole, the God of Eloquence and Godpoke's predecessor.
Due to her size, finding a dance partner would probably be tricky, and King doesn't really eat. But that's alright. King is perfectly content to spend the night engaging in her favorite activity--- talking. She sits at a table or mills around, trying to chat with as many people as she can.
"Howdy. Heck of a party," she'll drawl out to the nearest stranger in a warm Southern accent. Her voice sounds like what a nap outside on a mild day probably feels like. "You from around here or just visiting?"
And of course, she'll gladly make time for folks she knows. King spends hours chatting with Godpoke in ASL, then makes a point of touching base with the other guests from her world, and, when the time seems right, Hector. Plus if you're someone Godpoke has named as a friend, she'll definitely seek you out wherever you are!
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Still, she'd be a liar if she said she wasn't acutely aware of when the woman comes up to where she is, sipping her wine and taking a break from the dancing. It means she seizes the opportunity to talk first, uncertain what the prickling in her heart is supposed to mean.
"You're visiting, right? I feel like I wouldn't be able to forget you showing up on the ferry."
Unless it just happened today, but that wouldn't explain the outfit, or anything else.
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King offers a handshake. Most of her fingernails are long and pointed, but the middle two on her right hand are notably cropped short. This would be dangerous information if she wasn't married.
"You look amazing, by the way, if it's not too bold of me to say. Dressed like the night sky."
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"Do I get to know your name, before I tell you that you don't owe me anything for that?
Really and truly. She'd just been there at the right time, had the right skillset, known the right thing to do. It still feels unbelievable that she did that with her own hands, but proof can't be denied.
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It's that strange feeling in her heart again - it could be anything she's consumed today, it could be the general frivolity, it could be the atmosphere, or standing in the presence of something that feels...
Well, she doesn't know.
"And your gratitude is accepted, but I'll accept it being kindness as long as you accept that a good portion of the work goes to Anya - the medic who brought them fully back." She wants to be casual about it, but her tongue feels looser. "All I did was keep them from tipping over the brink. And it feels odd to be thanked for something like that - not in a bad way, just...odd."
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Or a very clever replica of one. She smiles, more for the sake of trying to still seem pleasant at the party than truly feeling it. It might be thanks to Dess that this isn't setting off the alarm bells that would have her fleeing, diverting, trying to keep away from a spot as tender as a bruise one keeps hitting again and again. So deep purple it's nearly black, and it never really gets to heal. Later, she'll feel the nausea of self-consciousness again, but not right now.
"I mean, what was the alternative? Letting them die? Just staying inside and doing nothing? That's just..."
(A thought, the deepest red of dried blood. You could have finished the job yourself. Given them hope, and dashed it. She tries, and tries, and tries to not listen to those. All they are is words now. Terrible words she pushes aside in the hopes they don't come out of her mouth.)
"It just doesn't seem like something that's done."
If that makes any sense at all.
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She takes a moment to think, before her hand finds Fever's shoulder.
"It's in times of crisis that people show you their heart. Those moments where panic kills all thought and all you can do is what comes to you naturally. When you didn't have time to weigh your decisions, your instinct was to help someone. You made a snap decision to choose kindness. That is extraordinarily important, Fever. Whatever else happens, don't undersell the person you were in that moment."
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Is it kindness that her instinct is to fight, to bring destructive force and pain to what stands in opposition? Is it kindness that when she saw Kelaiah out there, her thought was to beat back what prevented them from getting in? Is it kind that sometimes, she looks at the suffering, and thinks the best thing to do is end it? Poison for the blighted, execution for those too physically melted to keep going, a blade to sever the thread of life that would continue on when it was simply overwhelming.
She knows those that would break themselves into pieces to try to preserve life at all cost, who treat every second as something to push through. She knows people who can be gentle without thinking about it, those who can make homes without having to worry over every component, people who don't second-guess everything they do. People who would rightly look at her thoughts and consider them abhorrent.
(People who still held her anyway, when she needed to collapse into someone's arms.)
"Is that enough to say someone's good?"
It's a thought as broad as the sunrise and as deep as the ocean and as dizzying as the heavens overhead.
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It's a simple question she asks--and yet he startles to be addressed, a motion that is both obvious and strangled. The answer struggles in a tangled web of half-truths and mangled wishes, desires choked by opposing despairs.
(But her voice. No need to be afraid of me, that's what it says; that's what this kind of person is. Oh, he's still terrified, just not of her.)
He doesn't look up. What he gets out, in this moment, is one weak little word: "Visiting."
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She sits on the floor beside him, putting herself a bit below him despite her impressive height. She removes her hat for the moment, placing it in her lap, and revealing blue-black hair that is cut and styled remarkably like Mulcahy's own.
"Kinda busy in there, isn't it? I hope I didn't disturb you, if you were looking for quiet. A mutual friend said we ought to meet."
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His heart jumps in his throat. Warmth, sudden, floods his chest and his gaze is arrested. Recognition. His cheeks flush against pale and clammy skin. Oh. Oh... oh, oh--
"Y-you--" against every compulsion to silence, the words wriggle free, because he just, he has to say it, "--you're beautiful."
Blinks.
He looks up at King, looking mortified. "Er--I'm so sorry, I'm not sure what came over me. Who--w-what did you say your name was?"
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She offers him a hand, with almond-shaped nails painted a coral pink. "My name's King. Kelaiah said they thought we'd get along."
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He takes her hand in his, weathered and blunt and a little cold. He tries not to stare. (He absolutely is.) "K-Kelaiah... oh, yes, a wonderful friend, they, uh, they showed me a picture of you once--um, not out of nowhere. We were discussing... what it was like to, to--decide to... switch one's gender, as it were, or... exist in all sorts of ways with it. Since I'm not very familiar with it at all. And I'm a priest, you know, I feel a responsibility to better understand those in my community..."
Given his current state, this is, in fact, pretty eloquent for him.
... Mulcahy, say something else.
"U-uhm. Uh... you know, it's quite funny--I'm, uh, I don't think I've ever been called 'pretty.' I've been 'handsome,' even 'cute,' but not... what about me is...?"
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Her own hands are rough as well, from a lifetime of hard work and horse care, but they're warm.
"It's interesting that they credit me with that. I never did make any changes to my gender presentation or pronouns, I think I just sort of grew into my relationship with them. I'm a cis woman, y'see. Just butch. But I think for Pokey, the revelation came from the idea that being butch as a trans woman was even an option. Now, mind you, they landed somewhere in the middle of the gender spectrum after everything was said and done, but I think knowing that masculinity and womanhood, and thereby femininity and manhood, weren't mutually exclusive. But that's just how I understood what they told me. Kelaiah knows themself much better than they or I could ever actually put into words. And as a god whose domain is eloquence and language, I find that really incredible."
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"I'm afraid that I... er... it's..."
... He thinks, faintly, of Klinger. He thinks of films, which he's always loved dearly and misses quite a lot, and the ones he used to watch growing up. The ones that, later, would be revised sometime in the 30s, after the Hays Code came about. And suddenly so many men that looked and spoke very much like him all disappeared.
"What do you mean, exactly? When you say that those things aren't mutually exclusive?"
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cw period typical internalized mild transphobia
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Condensed for brevity since I already know the answers <3
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Re: King || Godpoke's Guest [ Great God Grove Spoilers ]
Finally he feels he has to talk to her. He goes over with a warm smile of his own. "Hello," he greets.
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"Howdy." She has a light Southern twang that feels just a bit old fashioned. "What can I do for ya?"
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"I ... am not sure," he admits. "I ... felt I had to come say hello. My name is Sephiroth."
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"Pleased to meetcha, then. I'm King," she replies. "What kind of place do you come from?"
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"I am from Gaia. It's ... more modern than here, but ... this world is friendlier. More accepting."
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Lyubov is wearing heels. She's not wearing the six-inch heels, so she's not quite matching King in height, and she's too tired to dance, in any case. But she approaches King after seeing her chat to the postie — which is how she thinks of Godpoke1 — in Sign.
She raises a hand to King, and says, in answer to the greeting, "neither? Er. I was born under a different moon. An only moon. But I guess I live here now, until, like, the decree upon me changes."
1She does not yet think of Pokey as a friend. Key word is yet. Despite everything, in her private life, Lyubov is still painfully shy.
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At any parties they'd ever go to, it was King who would lead the charge, and Razzma would tail along, eagerly joining the conversations she never knew how to start, or simply just listening. Now that she's on her own, she doesn't have any idea where to begin, feeling a bit lost in this sea of people. Fortunately, they seem willing to pull her in and help her when she's at her most adrift, but in the gaps, she hardly knows what to do with herself.
And then, there she is.
Even without the sheer glow that came with godhood, spotting King in a crowd was always like watching the sunrise crest over the horizon, grand and warm. Breathtaking. Making the whole world feel just that much brighter, for having seen her.
Thrilled, Razzma wastes no time cutting across the crowd, weaving quickly and carefully around the crowd. As soon as she's close enough, she throws her arms open, grinning ear to ear--- there's so many things she could say, but she's not the "eloquent" one, so she's going to just absolutely crash into a hug.