pumpkinhollow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2025-09-20 10:27 am
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!
no subject
Just as he finishes, he catches the wince, the frantic stop from the corner of his eye. His jaw sets, but, forcibly, Gaeta subsides. Mulcahy's fingers get the briefest squeeze before he drops them.
(But what the frak else can he do? He has to get Mulcahy away, somehow, somehow, and he has to believe the only tricks Two has up his sleeve are psychological.)
no subject
He turns to cue Mulcahy with a subtle nod, "Don't you agree, Number 4077?"
no subject
He doesn't look or move as he answers, "Yes, sir."
no subject
"No," he says, quite calm and level. "I don't think it is. This isn't your little playground where you can do whatever the frak you want. Your whole apparatus, your Village, you don't have any of it. You have no power here."
And lower, directly to Mulcahy, trying to curb his desperation in favor of firmness, "He doesn't. You don't have to listen to him, you can go, I promise you'll be safe if you do -- "
no subject
"4077, shall we do a demonstration? Shall we show him why it's for the best? What do you say?"
no subject
4077 wants to believe him so, so badly. If only, oh God, if only. If only. By all means he could run, just take off and let his friends take care of the rest, except, except. No, Two is safe no matter how far away he gets, and 4077 will never be.
The smallest inhale, a tensing of the shoulders.
“No. I… I don’t think that’s necessary, sir.”
no subject
"You're not there anymore." How many times has he said that while they sat awake together? Only the nightmare is horribly real this time. Still, Two is just one piece of it, and if Gaeta can wedge some extra distance between the pair, maybe -- "He's here, but you aren't there. Okay? And do you know how many other people from the Serena Eterna live here now?" That's to Two, with an unpleasant scoff. "How long did it take some of them to tear down your Village, a month? Less than? I don't think it'll even take a quarter of that before they rip out your heart again."
no subject
He's still smiling, but those comments have gotten their teeth in. His eyebrows knit closer together, making it into more of a scowl.
"Why don't you do that? Why don't you try to rip out my heart right here? See what happens?"
no subject
"No, please. Please don't. Don't hurt him." A rough swallow. "Please."
He shouldn't. Saying the words is like sandpapering the inside of his skull. Like Priam kissing the hand of Achilles, the murderer of his son, just to get his body back. Like Peter claiming not to know Christ. He should just let Felix or Valdis or Fever or whoever else come as they are, and so gladly die if it means that maybe the deal will lose its efficacy if his body is no longer there to take the blows, and he will be free and Two will be nothing but a fine mist until the next day. He's seen this man die before, over the course of their voyage on the Serena Eterna, and it would be only freeing to see it again.
But he's scared. And he promised. So he does.
no subject
no subject
But he knows well the kind of man Number 2 is, and the deep contempt that stupid insult conveys. He remembers thinking, when Fever told him how Two was defeated, Justice comes so rarely to those who deserve it. How dare Two stand here and browbeat and cow someone Gaeta loves to the point that Francis thinks he has to defend him, how frakking dare he, and then to laugh in Gaeta's face like he isn't the one who ought to be afraid by showing his face here again --
He lashes out, quick as a striking snake, to grab Two by the throat.
no subject
4077 leaps forward to try and pry Felix's fingers from Two's throat. There's no sputtering or desperate gasping like there is in the movies; there's no noise, no air at all. And if that doesn't work, he'll gesture pleadingly with a wild, fearful look as dull stars cross his vision; and if that doesn't work, he can't do anything but drop to his knees.
no subject
Number 2 says nothing, because he doesn't need to. The message should be quite clear.
no subject
Mulcahy's frantic scrambling doesn't register as anything different from his initial pleas not to harm Two. A gesture born of panic and trauma, Gaeta figures. If he can just prove the fallibility of this man who's haunted Francis for so long, create a hairline crack in his control, something that might break the spell -- it won't fix anything, but it might be a start. Maybe. Maybe.
But nothing cracks, no matter the pressure he applies. Two keeps breathing well past the point where his trachea should be pressed shut. And he laughs, and Gaeta squeezes harder in some combination of desperation and fury, but nothing changes except Francis's own desperation --
He hasn't made a sound this whole time, Gaeta realizes.
Horrified, just as Mulcahy starts to slump, he finally lets go. Catches him before he drops all the way to his knees, gasping like he's the one who almost had the life choked out of him. The enormous, lavish ballroom feels very small all of a sudden, and very quiet, and so, so cold.
"Oh gods."
no subject
"I'm sorry," he sputters out, more air than voice. "I'm so--so sorry. I couldn't tell--I'm sorry..."
At least he can relish in this, this last moment of being in Felix's arms.
no subject
A pause, to let that really sink in.
"Are there any further questions?"
no subject
He breaks off at Two's interruption. Glares up at him with helpless fury, still holding Francis like he could shield him from his torturer. Like he could still, even in the face of overwhelming proof to the contrary, do anything at all.
He doesn't answer.
no subject
He can't stay here forever.
So. Slowly, as painfully as peeling away your own skin, he extricates himself from Felix and stands up. Steps behind Two. Folds his hands in front, lowers his head, and goes back to saying nothing.
no subject
"Very good, 4077. I'm proud of you, my son."
His eyes are cold as ice and his voice not much warmer when he addresses Gaeta, "I trust there won't be any more disturbances?"
cw: emeto reference
He thinks he might be sick as he watches Mulcahy step behind Two, quiet and pliant once more.
And he still can't answer. (Won't. Not when the expected reply is yes, sir.)
Gaeta steps back, careful and measured. He shoots another helpless look at Francis. Without a word, feeling like he's just cut a deep-space tether and shoved off into the void, he turns to go.
no subject
He doesn't say anything.
All he does is watch Gaeta disappear.
no subject
no subject