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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.

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A: Mike is definitely a microphone!

Who is this stout little microphone-headed man, clad in a black suit with a red bowtie and white gloves, almost always seen tonight (or even unseen!) in Tenna's vicinity? Why, it's Mike, of course! And who the hell is Mike? He's Tenna's number one, best and favorite, always-reliable, ever-supportive, never-delinquent, top-rated, sorely-missed, much-needed, forever-humble . . . Mike!

He is not a cat, though. Anyone who spotted a strange cat dancing near Tenna at any time tonight—oddly, never ever while the microphone man was also present—and thought that was Mike? Simply incorrect. Sorry you had to find out this way.

"Motormouth" Mike isn't at this party to socialize—this is another work night for him, because babysitting Tenna is a full-time job (self-imposed)—but as his title might suggest, he isn't exactly a wallflower, either. He spends the evening materializing as if by magic whenever Tenna needs him, and aiming to slip seamlessly back into the crowd again when Tenna doesn't. Never too far. Not being needed could turn into being needed again thirty seconds later, an occupational hazard he knows quite well, thanks. And so he always seems to be "on call," even when he does strike up a conversation with someone else.

And when the weird cat is hanging around Tenna? Mike's nearby even then! Just, uh . . . hiding. Straight up hiding. Behind curtains. Behind large vases—sometimes it's an advantage, being a little guy! Quite short indeed by human standards! Look how much he can scrunch up and fit right under this ottoman, a normal thing to do at a party! Everyone's doing it these days! They call it the Mike Drop!

$&*#, he needs a drink.

(He is also not partaking in any of the refreshments.)

B: What have you done, you yatzy?!

Unless?

There's someone else one might meet at the party tonight, under certain circumstances: only outside, secluded among some of the more ornate (and concealing) landscaping on the estate. Never while the microphone-headed man is tending to Tenna's whims, or even just creepily stalking him around the party. Only ever while the dancing cat is hanging around instead . . .

This person isn't dressed up for the festivities, or, maybe more accurately, he is always dressed up enough to not stick out at a party: a simple black suit with a white dress shirt, a green tie, green gloves, and a black and green capelet. He could be a butler, maybe—or a dealer at a casino. But whatever he is, he definitely isn't a human. He's another one of those object-heads cropping up around the place left and right. Television, microphone, what's next?! A six-sided die, apparently!

And one might be forgiven for assuming a Dice Person might not be interested in the catering, but no, this one has smuggled a wholeass tray of amuse-bouche out here into the hedges to sit with and indulge in while he finally has a moment for a breather.

A breather from what? He'll never tell. But boy did he need it. A little food in his stomach, a little fresh air on his real face? The evening is finally looking up!

. . . Too bad his breaks are only ten minutes. That's showbiz, baby.

If you really thought you were going to get a break all to yourself, Battat, you've got another thing coming. Which is to say, of course, you've got a Pluey coming, dancing up on two paws and looking at that tray of treats with a plaintive saxophone trill. Getting chased around this huge mansion by a puppy-coded teenager works up a real appetite, after all!

But, wait... If Cat Mike is out here, and Small Mike is also out here, then who the heck is keeping an eye on Tenna...? Well. That's probably not TOO important to worry about right now, is it?

T minus thirty seconds until he realizes.

But that's a whole half minute off! That's plenty of time for a more measured initial reaction to Pluey popping up out of nowhere. Battat's head jerks up in surprise from where he was hunched over, trying to make himself small and inconspicuous out here—but he bites back the verbal reaction he might have had if it had been anyone else. The musical trilling actually kind of soothes him, in a unique way . . . It's fine, the sax says, directly to his brain. This sound can only be one person, and that person is safe!

The moment of tension passes, and he lets his shoulders relax with a deep sigh. The evening air really does feel excellent when it's not filtered through the mask.

"Get your own!"

. . . Is what he says, but at the same time he says it, he's holding the tray out to Pluey. As if avoiding eye contact and grumbling about it makes it any less of an offer to share the snack, and the moment.

T minus ten seconds until he realizes.

Oh, good, he didn't even have to bat his eyelashes or anything to get Battat to pass the snacks. Not that he would have been able to resist, surely, if Pluey HAD brought out the big guns (in the sense of his cute and wily feline charms, and not the literal big gun that is definitely somewhere on his person, somehow).

In any event, Pluey lets out another, happier trill before he starts scarfing down that tray, paws and all. Shouldn't he at least take off his costume, first...? Well, inexplicably, he doesn't seem to be getting any kind of mess on it, so it's probably fine. It has to be fine. Everything is fine. Right?

"Hey! HEY!! That didn't mean eat ALL OF MINE! That's the exact opposite of what that meant, bozo!!"

Show some restraint, Pluey! Take a delicate nibble! That's only appropriate for fancy finger food like this!! Not that Battat was eating it that way either, but this isn't about him right now!!

He pulls the tray away again with a grimace. Being the boss is such a thankless job.

"Spill it all over yourself and Tenna's gonna—"

There it is.

"—Where's Tenna?!"

Pluey doesn't seem particularly fazed by all that scolding; if Battat is calling people bozos, after all, it must be a day that ends in 'y'. Still, he relents with a toot that could possibly be interpreted as indignant if you tilt your head and squint, and dusts off his paws. Fine, be that way! He'll just go back inside and find his OWN snack tray to scoff. Assuming, of course, he can get around that one kid who seems hellbent on chasing him down, and that's assuming Tenna doesn't...

Oh. Right. Tenna.

Tenna!?

The realization hits Pluey at approximately the same time it does Battat, and when it does, he lets out a squawk in the key of B♭ minor. Oh, no, oh, no. If they're both out here, then who's running the Mike?!

"Are you kidding me right now?! Did you just, mmpph—"

Please hold for two seconds. The countdown to when they both need to book it back into the mansion to make sure Mike's absence wasn't noticed—or worse, consequential—has just begun. Battat knows that. And damned if he's not going to eat this entire tray of apps before that happens!!

He even shoves it back in Pluey's direction as he chews. Help him. Help him!! Chew while you get chewed out!!

Swallow—

"—leave him in there without a Mike?! We're screwed, Litter-Brains! We've gotta mmpph—"

Please hold for two seconds.

Hey, it's not HIS fault that he was running for his life(?) just a few minutes ago!! Wait, was it only a few minutes ago? Well, whatever; in any case, Pluey doesn't need to be told twice when it comes to finishing all of this food, and he employs Famous Mike Technique #67 to make it happen: tipping the entire tray and everything still on it straight into his open mouth.

Whew! Okay, there's that problem solved. Unfortunately, the much bigger problem remains: where the hell are they going to find Tenna? Should they split up to cover more ground? No, no, if they do that then there's a good chance that kid will just start chasing him again. He can't help but let out an anxious note; what are they going to do?

Battat manages to swipe a last couple of snacks off the edge of the tray before they plummet into the oblivion of Pluey's maw. He wasn't done!! But fine, fine. It does get them on their way faster, he'll give it that.

The empty tray gets shoved under a hedge, which, as it turns out, is the same place the Small Mike costume got stashed for this break. He rolls the head out and picks it up, but—wait, they should probably head back in together, huh? They don't have any easy way of communicating right now if one of them finds Tenna, and what the situation might be when they do. And if they go in together, they can't both be Mike at the time. Two Mikes! In the same place!! The jig would be up before you could say technical difficulties!!

He wrestles with this briefly—then kicks the mask back under the hedge.

"You're the one already in costume, so you're on the Mike, got it?! Don't screw it up! Now let's start wherever you last saw Tenna!"

Mike . . . ? | Deltarune | Tenna's Guest (also, Deltarune spoilers ahoy)

you yatzy!!!

THEN WHO WAS MICROPHONE?!

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Definitely a microphone

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A

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