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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

Capo could offer a drink or a dance as the meta text suggests. Or he could do a secret, stupid third thing.

Half drunk already from making nice with his former best friend, Capochin spots her storming through, cigarette in one hand and wine in the other. "Hey! You! You're Carolina, ain't you?"

Oh great, just what she needs. Harassment of the New York City variety.

Carolina stops abruptly and looks down— then down some more— at a smartly dressed monkey, and gets a sense she’s in for a treat she didn’t ask for.

“Yeah? Who are you?”

"You'd know dat if you payed any attention to the folks who live here," he barks. Maybe that's not entirely fair, but after all the work the Bizzyboys did over the weather clusterfuck, how does she not know who their leader is? "Where do you get off takin' Kelaiah into a gods damned tornado, huh?"

Carolina jerks back, scowls at the flip of a switch. "What would you have preferred? That we sit around doing nothing while everyone's houses got destroyed? They asked me for help. I accepted. We got the key. What exactly is the problem?"

"The problem, smart ass, is that Godpoke ain't a fuckin' soldier. You're da big beefcake with da fancy trainin'. Godpoke is a mail carrier for cripes sake. Ain't you supposed to be protectin' civvies?"

Capochin's up now, sucking down the remainder of his wine so he can set the glass aside and jab at Carolina with a finger. It hardly matters he's maybe half her height, he'll jump a bitch if he has to.

Smart ass? Oh, no. Hell no. She is not putting up with this tonight, of all the shittiest nights. Carolina's lip curls, flash of a lioness's expression.

"You mean the same Godpoke that saved your world after you insisted on screwing it up? You should reconsider how little faith you have in their ability to make decisions. It's not like they're in their late twenties, or anything. We were protecting civilians— by finding the key. What were you doing?"

Oh, that's a low blow. It's like he's getting back what he dished out in the fight with Razz. Immediately, Carolina can tell by Capochin's face that she struck a nerve.

"EVERYTHING." His big mouth projects through the ballroom as he scrambles up onto a table to meet her eye. "We was deliverin' food, runnin' supplies, gettin' people first aid, callin' in doctors, pullin' stragglers inside, riskin' LIFE AND FUCKIN' LIMB to check that godsdamned weather equipment, and worryin' about what YOU WERE DOIN' WITH OUR FUCKIN' KID, CRAZY LADY."

So even old-fashioned fancy soirées like this aren't immune from guys climbing up on tables to throw hands and make a whole scene . . .

Ha! Good! Hey, this isn't any venue Battat has any responsibility towards, for once in his life. He's not even in costume right now! He's not on Tenna Duty! So he can get away with weaving his way through the crowd, martini in hand, to get a better look at what drama is unfolding over here. It looks like a fight is brewing, and that can mean only one thing, especially when he's in a good mood and a couple drinks in . . .

"Hey, my money's on the monkey! Who's in?!"

Ah, his instincts took over, huh? It would take more than just a palette swap to really break a Pippins of this habit.

"Oh, I am!"

Nearby, sipping her water if only so tomorrow isn't dire, Fever raises her hand before she draws closer.

"Ten brass on someone ending up in the punch bowl. Promise you I'm good for it."

"Haha, I'm a guest here anyway! I don't have a brass to my name! But that just means I'd better win! I'll raise you five that it's not even one of them who ends up in the punch bowl!"

This is the best way to make money in an unfamiliar place, right? Or, very possibly, to end up in immediate debt to complete strangers! But so it goes. He has to roll the dice and try to worm his way out later if things go wrong . . . his fellows would be so proud of him right now.

"I like your spirit! Let's call it twenty then."

Making stupid bets is much safer than getting involved or trying to break it up.

"Out of curiosity, why the blue one?"

"Aura, maybe? You can feel the mean streak on this guy from across the room!"

Just about around when he finishes saying that is when Capo goes off on his two-by-four shaped rant, which Battat pauses to listen to the entirety of, holding one hand up in the air. Please hold, this is so important. And when the whole thing ends with a dramatic spit:

"Ooooooooohhh. See what I mean? That's my guy."

While she'll admit the rant's highly impressive - those are some insults she'd never thought of before - there's a point at which she winces, eyes flicking to the guy Capo's spitting at, and then back to Carolina. That crossed some lines in front of the whole town. Might have to be one of those things people decide to not talk about because of how awkward it is.

And then Carolina's slamming him into the table, and now no one's in the punch bowl, because it's broken, and others are starting to ready an intervention, which means Fever doesn't have to think about one at all.

"...Still better than last year. Even if they break the table."

Teeth

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