September Event - Guest Appearances

[pumpkinhollow]

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!

Comments

Condensed for brevity since I already know the answers <3

[divineeloquence]

"Is it something you want? Something that will increase the joy you feel in being yourself, your comfort in your own skin?"

And when he agrees once more:

"Is it a label you'd wear with pride, and a community you'd be glad to be part of?"

"Then as an extant member of that community and someone who shares that identity, I welcome you to it, with no authority but that which all humans are born with--- the right to define oneself. No one can tell you that you can’t be what your soul says you are. And no one can take it away from you. You never needed permission. But you have my love and my blessing. You've found your people."

[lovethyneighb_or]

I will, I will, he says. I do, I do, I do.

It takes a while to get through it, honestly, because all the while he can't stop thinking, what in the world am I doing? What if I'm wrong? He couldn't hope to describe what he's feeling in less than an essay's worth of words; how does he know, surely, that this isn't just close enough, but right? Well and truly right?

But every time he looks at King, it's like the whole world opens up. He doesn't have the words for it, but of course it's right. It has to be. Besides, she said so.

So he(--she?) says, I will, I do.

With the same impulse that saw him exclaim you're beautiful, Mulcahy goes in and hugs her tight.

[divineeloquence]

And King hugs him back.

Her chest exposed, it becomes clear with his head right next to it that the raw and unguarded heart that thumps softly there is made of semi-opaque glass. Warm to the touch and motionless save for a gentle pulse coming from within like the strings of a bass, delicate but unafraid. What a display of trust it is, to let another person close enough as to peer inside, for the second time tonight.

King presses a kiss to Mulcahy's temple. "Congratulations, beautiful. I wish you a lifetime of happiness."

[lovethyneighb_or]

Oh, and is this not the very core of his own faith? Is it not what sits at the center of all mankind? In the bond between two people is the universe entire.

Ah. But.

Francis' demeanor wilts suddenly. There's a sigh, a resignation to his movements as he pulls away and adjusts his glasses. "Well, after tonight, I may not have much of that left. But I... I'm glad I met you."

[divineeloquence]

Immediately, concern clouds King's features. "What's goin' on?"

[lovethyneighb_or]

His jaw clenches; he swallows. The words have to be forced out, but at least around King, it's a little easier. He'd have no hope otherwise.

"There's a... a man, here. He held me prisoner. And he wants to take me back. And I don't--he came prepared, and I don't know how to stop him."

[divineeloquence]

King frowns deeper, casting her gaze around the room in search of this person--- not that she'd know what he looks like.

"So--- I dunno what he's said to you. But he can't... actually do that," King tells Mulcahy gently. "At the very least, I was explicitly told by the fellow who brought us here that we can't stay, nor can we take anything with us. He said it would be 'a power conflict he had no interest in dealing with, against a party he didn't care to offend.' Someone called Mortanne."

[lovethyneighb_or]

"... that's Mother Death."

He doesn't know if he wants to even let himself believe it. He's so tired of his emotions getting yanked around on a chain. Every minute of this party has felt like another 'gotcha,' and it's not like Two has ever allowed for hope either; Mulcahy can't trust in rules and precedents. They never saved him in the Village. Two is a walking rug-pull, and absolutely nothing is sacred. What if he makes some other deal or finds a way around anyway? What if he weasels his way out with Mulcahy in tow with the help of another entity entirely that nobody knew about? Mulcahy cannot possibly know everything, and thus nothing is guaranteed. Every truth is a lie. There is no such thing as safety.

A frail sort of hollowness passes over his face. It's a look of someone who has been burned far, far too many times to hope. "That... sounds likely, yes. But the man I speak of has always been fond of tricks. He's a beast of secrecy. If he found a way to get around this, I could hardly be surprised."

[divineeloquence]

"Hmm." King brings a hand to her chin. "Well, then maybe we need to think like we're full of tricks too, don't we? Let's look at this based on the strategies of men like that."

King turns back to the man at the table. He seems to catch her eye, but be unconcerned. "That fellow there seems to have some sway around here. He confers with gods, and also has some sort of relationship to the young lady whose party this is. Who, I'm to understand, is also pretty important. The man you're talking about clearly also has some social sway. What, in theory, could he offer Mr. Rex that would be of value to him? Enough that he'd go back on what he said about not wanting to mess with Ms. Mortanne. You say she's Death, what sort of thing would he have to offer Mr. Rex to make him willing to trifle with that? You'll have to forgive me if I'm missing some context, as I don't know who you mean, so I ask these things genuinely."

[lovethyneighb_or]

Rex. Isn't that name familiar?

Lord, this is a lot of questions to work through right now, but he'll do his best despite the way his heart begins to hammer. Mulcahy steps towards the wall, sort of shielding himself from view behind King.

"I don't--I don't know. I--i-if... the last time we had visitors, it was the result of demon-work. Assuming this is the same, and I'm almost certain it is, they... these demons, they feed from aspects of suffering. Your 'Mr. Rex' is a subtle hand who works off of Betrayal. Treason. My prison-keeper is a... an extraordinarily practiced hand at that. The place he kept us was very literally an engine to generate power through suffering for a different powerful being, suspended between worlds, away from the eyes of the greater denizens of the universe. In exchange he got free reign to break his toys as he pleased. If he took me, it would be as part of a battery. And Death would not be able to find me."

[divineeloquence]

"Hm. That, I did not know." King spares Eligos another look, curious. "Thinking like demons, that's an extra step. But we could consider whether Mr. Rex benefits more from betraying you... or him."

Now there's an interesting thought.

"You're around more, so maybe he does stand to gain from hurting you. But if you left, he'd lose that anyhow. And if he's betraying your captor instead... how the mighty fall. What if he's lied to your guest instead?"

[lovethyneighb_or]

That's...

...

Why should he? he thinks to ask, but the answer is obvious, isn't it? Number Two would be a horribly easy target for the King of Treason. But—that word, he cannot let go of. But.

"What would he lie to him about?"

[divineeloquence]

"Him gettin' to take you. Think about it. He told the rest of us one thing, but told just one man somethin' else. Unless he has a real good reason to give that man special treatment, I'm thinkin' the one who got lied to here was him. The bigger they are, right?"

[lovethyneighb_or]

...

The words would catch and he would close off, if she weren't the one he was talking to.

"I..." He tries to take a deep breath and can't get through it smoothly. "I don't know. I don't know. I—I wish I could have any confidence. But I... I can't even trust myself at all anymore, these days, nevermind supposing anything about the King of Treason, or, or the man who... made it so that I can't believe anything anymore. Not my food. Not my memories. Even my sleep."

[divineeloquence]

"I understand. I'm just trying to see if I can't talk ya through it," King says gently, relenting a little. This isn't a breakthrough she can force him to have. "I don't particularly think either of 'em can be trusted, either. But I'm a god, too. If I need to throw a little weight around, then I will."

She puts her hands on his upper arms, and leans down to meet his eye. "I know hope is hard when it's been stolen from you. But it ain't over 'till it's over. Alright? You're still here, and I know you have people looking out for you. No matter how hard it gets, don't let despair take your fight out of you."

Pulling her hands away, King goes for her left thumb, pulling off a pink and orange enamel ring she'd been wearing. She passes it to Mulcahy. Somehow, it will fit wherever he'd like to wear it. "I'm with you."

[lovethyneighb_or]

It's so strange. The way his mind accommodates her words, giving them time and space where others' glance right off; how his fears and worries cling to it instead of screaming back in outright rejection. Maybe it's her patience. Something about the way she picks and plucks at it. I'm dying, Mulcahy howls; his friends say, no you're not, but King says I don't know if that makes sense.

Maybe it doesn't.

It is so, so hard to keep fighting. But... but. (Remembering every conversation he's had this night; with Two, but also with Gaeta, with Fever, with Radar, with Zivia, with Noelle, with Fuelweaver, with Valdis; one after another, a train of those who wanted to watch his back. Once, Felix told him, a lot of people here love you.)

He's so tired. He can't take it anymore.

But she hands him a ring and says, I'm with you. That with the little ceremony she held for him to welcome him to her (their) kind of womanhood felt, in spirit, very much like the marriages he's conducted. Like he's been asked to marry himself. Herself. Mulcahy, who she wants to be. To love her and honor her all the days of her life. Do all that she can for her.

She wants to be free. One more, maybe. Maybe. One more try.

(The reason why the rings of a marriage are put on the left hand's fourth finger when counting up from the thumb, is that it had been long thought that there was a vein that ran directly there towards the heart. Or a nerve, depending on your sources. So it has been written that those long ago thought it appropriate to give it a ring, as though to honor love with a crown.)

Mulcahy puts it on. "Thank you." And with great, heroic effort: "I'll try."