ph_logs | September Event - Guest Appearances

Entry tags:

event

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

He sighs, sitting up straighter and cracking his neck. "We had our disagreements. She was always stubborn. Never liked to listen when I made suggestions about how to handle the risks she was taking and resented me for it when she finally left the closing trap to come with us. We were safe for eight months on the run before the Freelancers caught up to us and she's blaming me for the Director sending his two most kill-happy attack dogs after us."

His eyes flick subconsciously across the room to Carolina.

Stubborn was not a word she would use to describe CT. Guarded, yes, but not stubborn. Her gaze flits to Carolina as his does, then settles firmly back on him.

"I have found that CT usually has a good reason for how she feels about someone, so please spare me the 'I'm the real victim here' storyline."

Lies were one of her colleagues least favorite things, so clear, honest communication had built their relationship on a strong foundation.

Needles' jaw twitches. "I'm not saying I'm some victim. I'm saying I did what I could. Just because I didn't rush to leave when my team were still out there dying—"

It's a half-truth—or, something even more complicated, that echoes in a weird tangle of connected emotions. They were already dead, by the time Connie was begging him to run, to just get in the damn pod and go. He knew that. He just didn't want to believe it. Still finds it hard to.

The twisted emotions are hard to read, and yet none of it seems to be lining up in any way.

"If you didn't abandon your dying team, and you didn't betray CT, then why is she so angry at you and why is Carolina radiating murderous intent?"

Needles slams a fist against the arm of his chair on frustrated reflex. "Because I didn't get us into the damn escape pod in time, alright?! The Freelancers had already torn through most of my damn team and Carolina and the damn unstoppable android got to us before we could move out! We got backed into a fight and they— got Connie. If we'd gone immediately—"

Maybe it wouldn't have gone down like that. Maybe he wouldn't have ended up flying out of there with an empty escape pod built for nine, populated only by himself and a corpse.

On one hand, she can see how these memories hurt him, how he tortures himself over his failure. On the other, she wouldn't have waited around for a lost cause. Cold maybe, but no point dying for nothing.

"So you caused her death by disobeying an order, and then you stole her armor?"

"'Order' would imply she was in charge. She wasn't." Not that it makes him sound any better, to be the leader in the situation and fail her anyway. A trend, it seems, in CT's life. "I only took her helmet after she died. The tech was better. And I needed a new cover."

Retroactive justification for a strange decision born more of grief and guilt than any amount of sense. Taking someone's armour is like taking their face and shedding your own, with suits like Freelancers.

"Oh, so you were in charge and you survived when the rest of your team died?"

It's one of the more disgusting things she's heard recently, leaders who bring their people to ruin and escape only with their own lives.

"Then you took everything from someone who counted on you after she was dead."

People do stupid things in their grief, but it doesn't justify their actions.

Needles pushes out of his seat, reflex more than choice, glaring down at her with teeth clenched and jaw tight. "You think I wanted my whole team to die?! If I could've got them out of there I would! Who the hell even are you, anyway?!"

Someone who knows Connie, obviously, but what goddamn right—

Valdis doesn't bat an eye as he switches to anger, standing over her like it might cause her to back down, even if the implication isn't intentional.

"Professionally, I am CT's superior officer, and I would fall before I ever allowed her to die."

And if she failed to protect any one of her people in a world outside of this one, she would seek revenge instead of hiding.

Superior officer. What kind of job has she gone and gotten, here? Does this place have a military, too? Is there anywhere in the damn universe that doesn't?

"And what would you do, when you're under surprise attack and have to choose: get their primary target out of their reach while the team buys time, or try and pull everyone at once and leave yourselves wide open? We were between a rock and a hard place. Freelancer never took prisoners."

"You think that's a question worth asking, yet all I hear is you making excuses for being an indecisive coward."

He still stands over her, clearly not understanding any word she speaks.

"You were too scared to make a choice, so you did nothing except save yourself after sacrificing everyone around you."

Needles makes a frustrated sound. "Sacrifice— I didn't sacrifice anyone. I made some bad calls and I do regret it, a lot, but I did not sacrifice my team. Or her. You don't know me. I'd take just about any of their places if I could."

That's not a lie. It's also useless.

"Don't be so literal, your indecision led to their deaths."

Though she can tell he isn't lying about switching places with them.

"And even in your regret, and I do believe you regret it, you still stole her life and left her in limbo. There's no rest for someone whose death is hidden away."

"They knew," he says, and he is sure of that. Freelancer never came chasing after him again. They knew, when they reported back to their Director, that there was no surviving the injuries they gave her. "But they were never going to let her rest in peace. I tried to finish what she started. I took that data as far as it could go. In the end they just ate their own."

She still looks up at him, unfazed and unyielding.

"We were pulled here upon our deaths, so the last thing CT knows of you is that you let her die, and then you stole her identity. She does not know of your regret, nor what you did after, or how it all ended for you. She needed you, and you failed her."

Then she's not really dead, is she? doesn't pass his lips, a rare modicum of sense killing it in his throat. With a heavy sigh, he slumps back down into his seat, elbows in his knees and head in his hands.

"I only ever wanted to keep her safe," he says, half-muffled where he rubs his face. More so, when he mumbles, "God, if Keaton could see how bad I..."

Valdis tips her head as he seemingly admits defeat, falling back into his chair and regrets.

"Just her?"

"All of them. But I was meant to—" a huff. "When we made contact. When I realised who she was. I told myself I'd make sure she made it out. That it wouldn't happen again."

"And who is she?"

"We grew up on the same colony. Her brother and me— we were friends. He led the squad before we gave up on the resistance. But Keaton wouldn't give it up. He couldn't see the bigger picture, the war—he refused to leave. I tried to make him see sense but he just wouldn't leave and because he wouldn't leave, he—" a sharp exhale, "when the planet got glassed they didn't let known insurrection into the evacuation transports. So he died."

That his feelings towards CT's brother go beyond simple friendship is probably clear in the flavour of old grief he secretes.

"And then, by total fucking chance, Connie reached out to our unit. And I recognised her. And I swore I'd keep her from ending up like her brother did. I owed him that."

It wasn't even entirely about her.

Ah. Yes. This makes far more sense than anything else he's been saying so far.

"Does she know this?"

"Yeah. She knows. Broadly, anyway." The connection had been how they trusted each other in the early days. The rest... he never quite admitted the depths of feeling it was born out of, but there was no way to dodge it entirely. Not once they were in close quarters for month after month. "She always tried to tell me she wasn't like him. That she knew better. But she resisted leaving just the same."

But then, so did he, in the end, didn't he?

"She asked you to go and you didn't, which led to her death. I think that fault falls entirely on you, so don't dare try to blame her for it."

Valdis knows she is learning things about CT that CT had never told her, but then again, there are many things she hasn't told CT, but they still trust each other.

"Before that. It took months to convince her to get out off that ship. Even after they tried to kill her. Even after she almost got caught and we lost contact for weeks. She only listened when she ran out of options."

When she'd exhausted her plausible deniability with the program by disappearing on them mid-mission.

He slumps back, rubs the bridge of his nose. "And then— sure, yeah, I did the fucking same, alright? I know. But it's too damn late to do anything about it. At least she's alive here."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject