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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

Daisy drops into one of the open seats like it's personally offended her, somehow, energy in direct contrast with how dolled up she is for the evening and with the fact that nothing's horrible has actually happened this evening. Honestly, it's more comical than anything.

She nods at Fever over the rim of a glass of wine that is, as usual, doing nothing for her. "Sure is a party."

"A nice party. Even with the man over there lurking around."

A little nod in the direction of Eligos - he's not doing anything amiss, and frankly, later she'll consider that him watching the fuckery that will go down is perhaps why he showed up in the first place, but at present, he's not intentionally trapping everyone in the worst theater ever created or making everyone hallucinate, so he's clearing the low bar.

"Run into any familiar faces? I haven't seen your former pain in the ass again."

Daisy grunts. "Would sure hope not. Grandpa betrayal over there would've had to dig him back out of the coffin."

Which wouldn't have been unexpected, from the king of betrayal, but it would've been a pain in the ass.

She drinks, licks red wine off her bottom lip. "He got weirder with it this time."

"What do you mean? And what do you mean about a coffin? You actually got to kill him?"

This tidbit of gossip has missed her for a year, so she's demanding the truth.

Riiiight she didn't actually tell many people about that one. Never seemed wise to go blabbing about a demon deal. Even one that didn't effect anyone else.

"Not exactly. He's uh. In the Buried? So, alive. Very much alive. Probably wishing he wasn't."

She sure spent her time down there wishing the same.

She thinks about this for a moment, sipping her own wine. Swallows, looks out at the people, and then back at Daisy.

"How terrible to be him."

Nope. She can't find enough sympathy in her to think that it's terrible that he's there. He's simply not their problem anymore. And it is one of the things she most appreciates about Daisy - that at times, Fever can simply drop the act of giving a shit of what happens to their enemies.

She can always count on Fever not to get weird about her more— monstrous decisions. Once or twice she's wondered if it was too far, damning him to what had felt like her own personal hell, but then she thinks about that final conversation with him and... no. He earned it.

He's been down there longer than she ever was, now. Christ. Weird to think about.

"Shouldn't've kept calling me Alice," she says, then sighs and sits up straighter. "Haven't caught a whiff of another you, either. Small mercies."

"Thank all the gods in this realm, even the ones visiting. I do not want to deal with her tonight."

They don't have twelve hours to get into another private screaming match, and she would bet any of the daggers she's wearing that her other self would have choice words about Fever's relatively recent decisions.

"If you see someone short, sniveling, and wearing a stupid little hat, don't talk to him. He's mine and I don't want him, but he's not worth the effort of eviscerating in this dress."

Daisy snorts. "Noted. I'll ignore your weird— whatever he is."

Annoying but not worth the mess. Fair enough. Seems like there might be a few of those kinds of visitors around this time, but then there's also been at least one fist fight already, so. Sure is going to be a colourful evening.

Her tongue drags over her teeth. "...you see a blonde kid heading even sort of this way. Tell me. 'Cause I'm gonna hide under the fucking table."

"...since when were you a mother?"

It's just one of those things that doesn't square the circle in her mind, but it's her automatic first thought. Daisy with a child...

Daisy almost does a spittake, but covers her mouth quickly enough to just choke on the wine instead. Through coughs, she wheezes, "What? No. Never. What th— you went deadbeat lesbian mom before past self?"

Holy shit can you imagine. Her as a mom. Fucking christ.

"It was the first reason I could think of why you'd want to hide from a child."

It was unlikely, she knew, partly because she can only imagine Daisy ripping out the throats of men instead of letting them touch her.

"Why do you get yourself in miniature and last time I got a me hellbent on ruining my life?"

She says this, but Daisy also got Calvin, so it sucked for them both.

Daisy spends a moment debating if she should actually be insulted by the idea she'd be that terrible of a parent, but honestly, no. That's accurate. She can't argue against it. Seriously. Don't give her a child.

"It's barely even me. Me and that kid may as well be totally different people. She's not even going by Daisy yet. Basically slapping me in the face with 'look, you could've been a good person!'"

"Do you want me to let you stew, or do you want my actual response to that?"

Sipping on her own wine, she's serious about this. But she won't go for anything actually painful - they're in public, after all.

Daisy grumbles indistinctly, drags her tongue over her teeth again, then says, "Hit me."

Before taking another swig of useless wine.

"There are people who don't get turned into Avatars who remain perfectly wretched their entire lives. You have no way of knowing if that little girl would grow up to be awful all on her own."

Her shoulders shrug.

"Maybe we're not good people. But we're at least making sure good people don't suffer more than they have to."

"Mm." A claw screeches against the glass and she scowls, adjusts her grip so it doesn't do that. "Could've turned out a Tory politician like dad wanted. God. Imagine."

That's at least as bad as the Avatar stuff. She might've gone along with it longer if her parents' response to Calvin's lies hadn't shattered her trust in them.

"Guess that's a way of looking at it."

"What else are we doing, at the end of the day? We don't have to be helping with this. There's enough people who are desperate to play hero around here. And yet..."

She lets the words trail off. Them looking for their corpse counterparts to make sure nothing worse happens. Backup plans in case the worst does come down. Time and again, using strength and skills forged from horror to look at a little town and say we can keep this from destroying you.

Daisy follows silently behind the train of thought, even unspoken. Every crisis on the streets, taking advantage of their capabilities where they can. It doesn't feel like much. Hardly registers, these days, just part of the routine.

"And yet," she echoes.

"And yet, we're still making choices."

Looking at the rest of her wine glass, there's the real contemplation on how much she can safely let herself go at this party. The amount of things she could say, that she doesn't say, before she exhales and makes a single smarter choice by pushing it to the side.

"I don't know what comes after. What we can do next."

Daisy watches her slide her glass away, then chugs the rest of her own in one go and sets it down. The effect on her is the same either way.

"Sometimes I think I know." Or, well. In some ways she does know. She said it to Martin shortly after he and Jon returned: this is her home now. There's nothing waiting for her back home and there's plenty for her here. "Other times. Feels like a big blur."

"The farthest I've let myself think about is taking that barrier down. After? Just a big blur, like you said."

Or, well, she knows somewhat. She knows she can't go back, if it's a one way journey. It's something she's known for months. She can't leave this place, even if they all leave her.

A vague, rumbling sound. "I know I'm staying. Pretty much all I do know. Don't know what it'll look like. But this— I'm home. Home as I'll ever be."

There's so many questions—she doesn't even know if Basira will have to go back, finish the timeline out. But 'home' hasn't been home in a long time, now. It all fell away in stages. Bodelwyddan, where she grew up, full of ghosts. London, her apartment, always just a means to an end. The Archives, the first place she'd finally felt like herself again, been able to make new choices. All of it temporary. All of it distant and gone.

But not here.

"Good. Because I'd hate to lose you."

It's the unvarnished truth. Not just because of them understanding being monsters, not because of the ship, not in how they have their mutual pacts of destruction. Daisy is a friend the likes of which would scar her to lose, and hearing the affirmation that she's staying too...

It means they can at least figure out the next part together. Complain and struggle and try to decipher where creatures like them can settle into a life that perhaps might not constantly be fighting a greater threat. Or it will, given their luck, but they'll have experience under their belt for it.

Daisy's still bad at saying things out loud, sometimes. That's probably going to always be true, even as she continues to pick apart the knots that it's caused over the years, even as moments come and go where she manages to open up the locked and weighted door for just a while.

But the line of her shoulders looses, a little, and so does the lines of her face. "...yeah. Well, uh," she coughs, "you too."

She blows hair out of her face. Coughs again.

"First time it's felt real. I think. The idea of— living past it."

The Archives was all borrowed time. She spent half her time on the ship just wanting it to all be fucking over already. These days, though...

conflagration

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cw vague reference to suicidal ideation

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