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

[abhorrently]

On a different night, she might have said no, thank you. Words would avoid her, or would crawl out of her mouth in the wrong shapes, and she'd find herself caught up in the mess of it again. Safer, simpler, to walk the same paths away from it, leaving it for tomorrow and tomorrow. But her heart's already been unbalanced once tonight, and it didn't kill her or leave her worse for wear. And it gets tiring to carry something like this around on her own.

"Yeah, actually. I do."

They can walk to nowhere in particular for it, unhurried.

"Where do I even start? At the beginning or just whatever comes to mind?" If she had a Brass somewhere on her person, she might even have just flipped it to force herself to choose.

[filumamoris]

He leads them on an ambling path through the garden, slow and relaxed and very scenic. His hands pluck idly at Tony as they go--nothing involved, nothing too distracting. Just sound. Something to set the nerves at ease.

"Go with the flow, man. It'll be easier for you, and I'll be able to keep up, promise. You're talkin' to Love Himself after all."

He'd love to help as best as he can, but look--even if she doesn't come away with any answers or any plan, at least by talking about it, she'll actually put her thoughts in some kind of order. Any order. That's always the first step.

[abhorrently]

Fever nods, and the sound helps, let in as easily as the music earlier was. Just go with it. Make the decisions on the way. It's one of her oldest skills. The garden is at peace - no surprise demonic battles, no impending doom. Might as well open her mouth and see what falls out.

(Love is in the air, love is in the room with people in it, love is in the garden and the great wide world beyond. Is it really unexpected that when finally allowed to breathe, the first song is that of joy?

"...He's one of the most incredible people you could ever have the chance to meet. He sees the world as something so full of wonder and life, and there's so much to learn and so much to love about it. People talk to him, and he really listens - it's this patience in him, this kindness and this sense of community, it makes it so easy to trust him." A smile creeps to her face, slipping past her own notice. "He's a scientist, and it means when he looks at facts and figures and can decipher what the weather will be, I get the same feeling someone else might get if they saw me and my sorcery. It's just...wow."

There are reasons and answers behind it all. There are laws of the natural world and things that those without magic saw reason to question enough until they yielded their secrets up enough to be foretold. And it floors her to think about, for the immense work it took to get there.

"It'd take me so long to list out everything he is. Even right now, I want to tell you that he's sweet, that he's a devoted parent, that he's never made me feel dumb for asking questions when there's so much I don't know. I want to say that he's funny, that he cuts a really fine figure, that he's also a musician, and to keep going." A tiny breath. "And he understands so much of what it means when you say want to be better than you were."

Necessary destruction. Irrevocable change that took everything, and while there was no choice, while it would never have been asked for, it was what was needed. An experience so strange and undefinable that to have another who understood felt like a temporary haven from the misery that surrounded. That was the beginning.

(A change in the music's key, contemplation and clouds coming in. But different chords than might have been played yesterday, experimenting with the concept of maybe I'm someone better than I think. Trying to pull away from self-loathing temporarily, and give herself a break - trying to accept some of the things she's been told. Step by step, instead of listening to endless variations of the same melody.)

"...It's hard for me to say the word love. At least, when it comes to myself."

Too long spent feeling that word as something that it wasn't, as some kind of risk. Slowly, it's been restored to use, but not everywhere.

"At first, I thought this was all just....something without a defined shape. No name. No title attached to it, because it's easier to not give it one. It won't last, I told myself. There's too much in the way. Too many chances for me to ruin everything to avoid them all forever. But, you know that it just keeps growing, no matter how much you try and keep it together. No matter if you name it or not."

No expectations to walk in with. No jostling what comes on instinct, what feels silently understood. Not even when your heart stops in relief, when you are parted and then see each other again. There's always an excuse. There's always a reason to keep the door shut. There's always something to be afraid of losing. There is always something that will be lost regardless.

"By the time I finally admitted to myself that it what it was, it was far more complicated than just something unspoken. Other factors were involved now. My past. His future." A breath. "Other people. And there was a lot of work to do on my part, before I could even think about anything else. Trust to fix, secrets to address, my self to change."

She did it for herself - to have a chance at living a life. And yet she'd never deny it meant so much to be able to tell him that things changed. Again and again, allowed to choose different, choose better. You're safe with me, in different variations. But why would any of that mean anything gets to be named aloud? Why does that mean things that were in such danger of being lost should be jeopardized again?

"...I try to show it, where I can, however I can. Hoping that somehow the message gets through and I don't have to say anything. Sometimes, I really think that it's already been said. And sometimes, I think I shouldn't be asking for too much. I should be happy with how it is."

Savor the time you have without risking a premature end. Find contentment in that it exists at all. Don't get greedy, when this was so hard won to begin with. If she never says anything, then she can stay safe.

She manages to make herself take a break and look at Thespius, giving herself some room before she outlines more of the places where she gets caught up. The river's been cleared of the dam, and after the inevitable surge, everything starts to actually flow.

[filumamoris]

Thespius hums, and he plays, and above all, he listens. Each and every word flutters off into the air, a thought finally given form and freed. Now that they have been spoken, they exist. Now that they exist, they can be addressed.

"Heavy stuff. Man, oh man, do I hear ya. But take it from me, before we keep going: you never realize how much sitting in that little space between 'yes' and 'no' wears down on you until you get out of it. That's part of why we have those words."

But look. He gets it. He did just admit to being the world-record holder for pining paralysis.

"What else you got?"

[abhorrently]

It's enough weight to keep her spirit earthbound, when otherwise it might slip away with the moonlight and travel where it would. Enough to make her heart feel bruised, holding onto itself all the time. And when something is said, she doesn't know where it'll go, or what it'll feel like.

"I said other people were involved. I'm not the only person who loves him like this. He has his fella, and by all I know, they're happy. He's like him in all the right ways. They understand each other, feel for each other, they come from worlds that fit together - I'd never want him to not have him. They smile when they see each other."

Both people from worlds without magic and things like this. The loop happened, the war happened, but gods and demons were well out of the equation. Death worked as it should. No one asked you to work with enough blood on their hands to drown a city.

"And...he has his wife, back where he came from. For so long, it seemed impossible that he'd ever see her again. There was no way home. No way but forward. It was as if we'd died without dying, leaving everyone behind. And that's what he carried for so long, trying to let himself heal. Now...now, here, we know there's a way back. We know that if your home is elsewhere, you can go there. Now he can go back to her, after waiting so long."

Deep breath. She manages to keep the lumps from her throat. So easily, she can picture those three finding a way to fit. So easily, she can see happiness, as if held behind shatterproof glass. Fever wants it for them, and at the same time feels like she's gazing from the other side of a canyon, the night chilly while others soak up a bonfire.

"I feel like one day, he's going to step through a door and I'll never see him again, so it's better to part on the best terms possible. All of this can be a good memory, instead of something that feels weird, something he regrets."

[filumamoris]

Thespius makes a long, sorrowful, commiserative sound.

"So... whatever I say next, I want you to know that I'm not tellin' you what to do. All I'm doing is offering a bit of insight from a god who's been around the love-block."

His fingers dance on the strings; a sparkling sound rises, buoyed by his smooth voice, then disappears into the night.

"You've said your man is real kind and real smart, right? He's wise and fond about people and things in a way that a lot of people aren't. It sounds to me like he's got a really good head on his shoulders; he knows himself and he knows people, especially you. I think he's already thinking everything you're thinking, and that he loves you too much to just let himself never see you again. And I think you know that."

A pause, as he works through the rest of his thoughts.

"... What it sounds like to me," speaking slowly, "is that if he did leave, right now, it would already feel weird for him, 'cause he's the one in the middle of all this, and there's no way he didn't think it all through already. I bet he doesn't know what to do either. And honestly, dog, I don't think you can know while you three are here and his wife isn't. But you two should probably at least get on the same page before you gotta worry about it."

[abhorrently]

She listens, because talking about this feels like finally, finally opening up a window in a stuffy room. Finally feeling the breeze again, if for a little while. And while by now she should feel self-consciousness creeping back in, talking to Thespius is more like talking to a friend than not. Love sees itself in another, and recognizes its own shape. Why hide from a reflection?

"It's...terrifying. I don't even know where I'd start, how I'd start, when's the right time. Completely tongue-tied, to use another of your words. I know I need to speak, just...I've been in life or death situations that didn't make me feel this way."

Gods, she never thought it'd feel good to admit she was scared of something. But she has to let at least one thing go out if she's to let the hope that Thespius's words are invoking in. Hope that somehow he's right about all of this, everything.

[filumamoris]

"Well, of course. To a heart, this is life, death, and then some. That's the way it always goes. Now you know how I feel." Thespius laughs a sunny sort of sound, easy and well-meaning.

"But if it's been this long and you still haven't found the answers to how to start or when, then I think that you're never gonna find the 'right' time, just one that's better than the others. Winter's coming up soon, right? That's usually pretty packed with holidays. Maybe you can figure out something then. Just don't wait too long, or one of two things is gonna happen: you psych yourself out or it gets forced outta ya!"

[abhorrently]

Whatever she might have said about having to face her fears in winter yet again is swept away by the deep concern that grows at that latter option. This place could do that, maybe. There already was one evil her who spilled all her secrets. Imagine what another double could do. Or another public display - gods, she doesn't want to think about it anymore.

"...before the year is out."

Fever's still never going to call herself someone who plans, but making promises has worked out so far. It still leaves months to keep turning herself into knots, which is deeply needed. Before the end of the year, before they start getting closer and closer to spring and she finds every excuse to keep putting it off. It's one kind of bravery to stare into the face of creatures that want to harm you, things that want to tear you limb from limb. It's a far stronger sort that lets you put how you feel out in the open.

"I'll find a day before then. I promise."

Though it looks like it on the surface, it's not a promise to Thespius. It's not even one to Phil. It's hers, flapping its tiny wings like a butterfly in her ribcage. Soon. Soon.