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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!

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He jumps. Flinches to be recognized and called out by name.

He cannot, cannot shake the feeling of being hunted, but it's hard to convince even him that Valdis has ill intent in approaching him. He remembers how she'd blown up her own cottage while she was there; how, in the last moments of everything, she'd eaten that man's heart.

He's tense, still. Afraid and despairing, like he's witnessing his last day of life on Earth before he gets dragged down into the pit of Hell. But he's not afraid of her.

He turns to look as she calls his name. "V... N..." He sighs, bitterly. Keeps his hands clasped in front of him. "... Hello."

His feelings are difficult to untangle, as if he's feeling many things at once and cannot choose what is real and what isn't. There's fear, she senses it's not of her, yet the fear seems familiar, something she has felt as her own and not just within others. It's the despair that comes with being unable to escape, of helplessness against a foe deemed unbeatable, of hope so crushed that one can only retreat into themselves as protection.

He can't even speak her name.

"I came to check on you."

A retreat both voluntary and forced; because there's nowhere else to go, but to be crushed so small feels like dying. But to leave his heart open is to allow himself to be obliterated completely. So fold down tight. Whittle until there's almost nothing left. Bind and crush until you've only got a bottlecap of spirit left, because at least you'll hold onto that much, and keep the chains taut.

And still: "... It's good to see you."

He breathes in, suppressing deep the nervous shake. "I will say. I've had much better days than this."

Valdis believes he's glad to see her, but in a way that he doesn't dare hope she can help him. Maybe she can't, maybe Kevin's hold is too strong. For an instant, it feels like they are both back in the village, where her defiance caused others to be harmed, where she refused to comply and ultimately turned Kevin's world upside down before destroying him and his prison.

"I know."

She had seen those days, and they were not far in the past, but it feels like he can no longer see them clearly.

"But one bad day won't ruin the life you have here."

"I hope you're right."

One bad day. Like he isn't hearing a death knell for every additional hour this goes on.

"I must ask you not to underestimate him. He's a tricky man. I'm not at liberty to share details, but he came prepared, and I... I just don't know. I don't know."

Valdis frowns, concern settling deeply within her core at his words and the continued fear that flows through him.

"I have never underestimated him, Mulcahy."

Surely he would never have agreed to come here without some assurance that he wouldn't be harmed. Even if Kevin didn't know she would be here, he had to assume Mulcahy had made friends who wouldn't stand by.

"I simply will not be cowed by inferior men who think too much of themselves."

Though the issue remains that her friend is afraid of him even if she isn't, and if he is warning her like this, there must be good reason.

"What can you tell me?"

His shoulders tense to hear his name, a half-suppressed flinch.

What can he tell her? He isn't sure if there's a real way to get around the compulsion to silence, and the terror makes it difficult to think. But.

He undoes the button on the cuff of his sleeve and pulls it back. Wrapped around his forearm is a distinctly makeshift bandage made from a cloth dinner napkin. By now, most of it is bled through.

Valdis waits, watching and feeling him work through his thoughts, a simmering anger directed at Kevin settling in her chest. If she were a Hound, it would be expressed as a growl, but in this form, she is silent. Waiting.

She bites back a gasp at the sight of his injury, uncared for, hidden. It's clear that Kevin is hurting him somehow, though how she doesn't know.

"Damnit, Mulcahy."

She bends over to lift her skirt and tear a long strip off the petticoat before grabbing his arm and removing the napkin.

"As a former wartime pastor you should know how to wrap this."

She wipes off as much blood as she can with the napkin and without getting it on her dress. The last thing she needs is for anyone to check on her and put him in more danger somehow. She pulls out her handkerchief, presses it onto the injury and then she tightly wraps the strip of her dress around his arm like a nurse would with a bandage, hoping it might at least be better than what he had.

"Did he do this to you?"

"I do." Know how, that is. He could run through basic triage and first aid with his eyes closed. It may as well be tattooed on the backs of his eyelids. But with what bandage? What disinfectant? He'd be hiding nothing if he'd torn another part of his outfit. He can't tear other people's. And to take from the decorations around them would invite suspicion and attention and above all, danger. It was a cloth napkin--in which he has nothing with which to tear it or sew pieces together or fasten it properly--or nothing, and hide in the garden and bleed.

He watches distantly as she dresses the wound. There's a... not harshness--a directness, a pure efficiency to her motions that reminds him of the Major. With the makeshift bandage over a violent wound, it feels like the faintest memory of the war. Home and hell together in a handbasket.

"He did," he says, watching the fabric of her dress wind around her arm. He doesn't flinch even as she wipes over the wound. Automatically: "Thank you. I'm sorry."

Edited 2025-10-01 02:59 (UTC)

"You have nothing to apologize for."

She's almost wondering if she needs more padding, but she keeps wrapping until she needs to tie it off. She keeps the frustration from her movements, not wanting to cause him more pain, trying to get the injury dressed as best she can before someone else sees. Clearly Kevin wants this hidden from everyone, which means her knowing might get Mulcahy in trouble with him.

Valdis is certain that Kevin didn't lay a hand on her friend, there would have been more of an uproar if he had, so she's at a loss as to how this happened. Yet he can't tell her, that has to be what is going on, why he showed her his arm instead of explaining. This means he can't explain, he has to get around some sort of order, but she refuses to believe that simple words could hold her friend so tightly.

Kevin had been so sure that she couldn't harm him.

"He told me he'd like to see me try tearing out his heart again. Are these connected? Your arm and his goading?"

She gently pulls his sleeve back down to make sure that her makeshift bandage remains hidden.

After she ties it off, Mulcahy stares at the dressing, running his thumb over it. Solid. Tight. Neat, as much as she could make it. She didn't even think twice about doing it. Best Care Anywhere, he remembers the sign over the 4077th reading, and isn't that a funny word so closely married to the act of practicing medicine; care.

(Even now, somewhere in all the horror, he thinks of love.)

He re-buttons his sleeve after she pulls it down. He moves to speak.

Both his hands slap over his mouth, and he can't seem to pull them off. But when he looks at her, his gaze is suddenly piercing.

Valdis has no idea what he's thinking of, but whatever the memories are, they are comforting ones, even within his fear he's able to see things that are good, but all that vanishes when he tries to answer her question. His gaze, how he feels, the inability to respond or control his own body.

Fresh rage simmers with a flash of scarlet in her eyes.

The answer is clearly yes, and he cannot speak it due to some kind of spell. Magic is not her forte, she doesn't understand it, nor can she use it. Her own power is not learned, it is inherent to what she is and can only be wielded by her. Not even Tiamat could use the power of Death.

She didn't realize that Kevin had thought this through so well, it certainly deepens her hatred of him. Though it must be Eligos behind this compulsion, Kevin had no power. If he did, well, she wouldn't have gotten his heart so easily. Getting it now seems a little harder, especially since she's not sure if the look in his eyes is him or someone else.

"Does it go both ways?"

He can't even shake his head to answer yes or no, but he looks away, and down. A dejected sort of motion that should make it very clear what the answer is. Slowly, he manages to lower his hands.

"Don't let him know that you know," he says, quiet. "It'll just make things harder."

Oh, the rage boils over inside her soul, though nothing on the outside shifts from her visual concern for him. Though a breath later that too melts away into the charming visage she presents to nearly anyone she has no business or care for, a mask to hide everything she is, noticeable to very few except for those who see the shift themselves.

A perfect lie.

"You mustn't be so clumsy, next time come to me first before trying to dress it yourself, ok?"

And nearly immediately, on instinct, his expression shifts to match hers. The bitterness and fear and grief are all wiped away for a placid, empty smile. A perfect chameleon, eggshell-thin.

"Alright." His voice is full and unassuming. But he means it when he says, "Thank you."

(It is, truly, such a great relief to not have to worry about the slipshod dressing anymore. Do you remember what a little relief feels like? It feels like a lot.)

"You know I'll always have your back, no matter what."

The smile hides all her concerns perfectly, but inside she wants nothing more than to tear Kevin apart and leave his tattered heart in the mud created by his own death.

"Shall we walk around the garden a bit longer?"

If he weren't such a learned hand at keeping his heart under a lock and key, he may have burst into tears right there. Gratitude and grief all at once, for her mercy, for the fact that he may never know it again. 4077 has no clue what Valdis is thinking at the moment behind her mask, but he can guess; and at the very least, he knows that sentiment is true.

"I'd like that very much." One last night of a starry sky and real air. He won't refuse.

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September Event - Guest Appearances

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