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

[staybizzy]

"AUGH---"

Considering Capochin isn't even the first person to go in the punch bowl (per a thread that has yet to be written), thankfully no one was really drinking the stuff anymore. But he does get his nice purple suit and blue fur doused in red liquid. He lets out a distressed gargle and lashes out roughly.

Arthritis or no, Capochin's still pretty wriggly, and he hurriedly scrambles free of her grasp. With large flat teeth, he chomps down on her arm, not trying to actually hurt her, just to get away without any further contest.

This was a mistake. He doesn't need to be told. But he will be.

[elvaquerito]

Several people start to volunteer themselves to separate the pair. Dahlia is poised to intervene, to shout louder than both of them and send the two home. Gerry is sliding his way to the front of the crowd to come pull Carolina aside, assuming Hector will collect Capochin. But it's actually Godpoke who intervenes first, and considering that they are the subject of this particular tiff, everyone else backs off. This is more their business than anyone else's.

A small body finds its way into the clearing around the drink table, holding Megapon aloft. What comes out of the Megaphone's cartoon lips, however, is not words, but a horrible feedback sound, squealing loudly in anger and distress. Begging them to stop.

[cyansoldier]

The noise is skull-splitting, migraine inducing— the drone of a military machine meant to keep civilians at bay. Carolina whips her head around to meet it, teeth flashed in a snarl, and sees them. Godpoke. Her face drops. Oh. Oh god.

None of it matters, she decides, five seconds too late. The bite doesn't hurt because she isn't thinking about it and she doesn't care how her dress has been splashed over with red punch and why, why couldn't she just stop while she was ahead. Fuck. Fuck.

Carolina lets him go. Of course she does. She steps back, retreats with hands thrown up almost instantaneously, opens her mouth to speak and can think of nothing good to say, nothing at all. Sorry doesn't matter when you're still coated in the sweat of the bad decision you've made. What a stupid, stupid thing she's done. Oh god.

[elvaquerito]

Capochin's currently trying to slink away to find Hector, feeling much the same. He screwed up. He went too far. Why does he always do this?

Neither of them need words of their own, though. Godpoke has plenty. In a small voice, muffled by their bandana, they speak only loud enough for these two to hear. "Can I please talk to you both in the other room?"

[cyansoldier]

Carolina glances at her impromptu nemesis, feeling the anger drained clean from her body. This is your fault, she wants to project onto him and can't. It's their fault, together, equally as stupid. One's push to pull. Teeth to skin and punch spilled everywhere. And now— the consequences. She won't shy from them.

"Yeah— ah- of course."

She'll follow wherever Godpoke takes them.

cw: mild self-harm ideation

[elvaquerito]

"Thank you."

They walk out towards a little foyer with a sofa and two guest bathrooms. Capochin follows behind Carolina, tail in hand instead of upright. He fusses with it, wishes he had put his teeth in that instead of her arm. Too late now.

Once there, Pokey turns Megapon on them again--- this time to suck the fruit punch out of their clothes. With a pop and a burst of tiny droplets, they are clean, if not still a bit sticky. Amazing how that works.

"...I guess I don't really need to say that I'm really upset that this happened," Godpoke begins. "I love and care about both of you, and you used things I told you about each other because I was proud of you as a way of harming each other."

They turn first to Capochin. It seems natural--- he started it. "I mentioned to you that Carolina's dad was here because I was worried about her, not so you could throw it in her face. And she's right--- I did understand the risks and I did go with her to find that key of my own volition. I understand that I really scared you and Hector, but that's my fault, not Lina's. If you were upset, you should have taken it up with me. Those were some really harsh ad hominem attacks you made against my friend, and I didn't appreciate that."

"I---" Capochin frowns. "...Yeah. Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, bud."

"And Lina---" Godpoke turns to her. "I know you're having a bad night. But I told you what happened in my homeworld because I wanted you to know my story. Capochin and Hector are working really, really hard to make right after everything that happened, and I'm extremely proud of them. It wasn't right for you to attack him with that information. And getting violent wasn't okay, even if what he said to you was wrong. This is Miss Dahlia's birthday party, you have no right to ruin her things, and Capo could've gotten really hurt."

[cyansoldier]

Carolina enters the room bracing for an army-style reprimand. What she gets is much gentler. Godpoke's tone is even. They're frank about their feelings in a way that's less like a stab and more like taking her hand. It's weird, being talked to like this. With a grace she feels she doesn't deserve for how recklessly she acted. Weird only in that she's never experienced it before. What she does know; glacier-cruel scolding, the kind that leaves her shivered-over for weeks. Whatever dread accumulates on the walk over breaks into pieces, dissolves into regret.

It was a bad move— all of it. A mistake. A leap to violence when she should have kept her head on her shoulders— kept her hands to herself.

They're right, what if something worse had happened? Bowl shattered, glass sticking where it doesn't belong, spill of blood across the floor instead of punch.

Carolina tips her head a little.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

[elvaquerito]

"I accept both your apologies," Godpoke says calmly, letting out a sigh of relief. "But I do want to point out that... I plan on proposing to my girlfriend tonight. And I love both of you a lot. I want you both to see it, and to be at my wedding. It would mean the world to me if you guys could just... talk for a minute. You don't have to be best friends, but just find a place of peace. Please."

Capochin looks up to Carolina. "I think I can do that. If you're up for it."

[cyansoldier]

Carolina tucks her chin to stare Capochin in the face. Frowns, imagining the bloody, glass-poked mess she could have made of him— the backing away, the stab of horror at realizing she'd hurt someone Godpoke loves dearly, a would-be proposal ruined. You're lucky it ended this way. Now stop acting like a maniac.

"Yeah. That's fine."

[staybizzy]

"Thank you," Godpoke says again, another degree of stress releasing from their body and replaced with relief.

Waving her toward the rear door of the foyer, which leads outside, he starts strolling that way. Walk and talk.

Once they're outside in the night air, he speaks again. "They were right. I'm sorry," he says. "It ain't your fault they went. They were doin' too much that whole time. I mean--- I'm pretty sure they had a near miss of some kind on all the weeks they didn't just straight up die. They died in Hector's arms, during the heat wave. It was... hard. But it ain't got nothin' to do with you. They were gonna go, and they picked someone they trusted to go with 'em."

[cyansoldier]

Carolina walks, listens. Outside, a breeze ghosts her face. The night is flannel-warm and steady as it settles around them. "No, I get it. You're their dad. You're going to worry about their safety. I wasn't thinking about who else would be affected if things went south that day, and that's not right. Tonight's just been... weird. You caught me at a bad time." Bad time. You could say that again.

"I know what it's like to make mistakes. Big ones that follow you around for the rest of your life. I don't know you, and I don't know your side of things, so I shouldn't have brought it up. It was cheap. I'm sorry."

[staybizzy]

Capochin huffs a little laugh. "Yeah, well. Admittedly, it was a pretty big mistake. It was all... ego, and paranoia. Wanting to be the best at somethin'. Wanting to matter. Wanting to force everyone to look at us. Him as a god, me as a sort of de-facto king... I wanted to fit in. To have poipose, to be valuable. He wanted to be remembered, to have a legacy, to never die or be forgotten. We got paranoid. Angry. Fed each other's fires. And we escalated, got hateful. ...I always been kinda an angry, insecure person. I'm better now, but still not perfect, obviously. I hate it. M'always doin' stuff like dis."

Cigarette smoke emerges from Capochin's mouth in a gentle plume.

"I wanna apologize for bringin' your old man into it. I was... my ego got bruised. I was lookin' for a way to hit back. But the truth is, Pokey's real parents don't like 'em much either. We get to be their dads 'cause they chose us. And we don't deserve it one bit, but we're real damn lucky they did. But you ain't less because some asshole chose to have a kid he didn't want. You should do like Pokey. Pick someone else, someone better. You deserve that."

[cyansoldier]

"God," A half-laugh, sapped of all its humor. "I get it. The ego, the paranoia— wanting someone to look at you for once. I tried so hard to get his attention. It was all I ever really cared about. Every stride I made in the Program, I did it hoping he'd— I don't know. Tell me good job. I wanted to feel like his daughter. Part of me wonders if he ever really thought of me that way."

Maybe. Maybe not.

"I've been angry, too. For a long time. I don't know how to stop."

A beat. Cigarette scent and the sound of night insects. The possibility of never really knowing how to change— of having no clue what to make of yourself without someone telling you.

"I... they never told me. I'm glad they found their way to you and Hector. You might have made mistakes, but you're obviously putting in the work, and they deserve someone to fall back on." Pick someone else, someone better. You deserve that. The words sting, prick of necessary medicine via needle. Carolina blinks rapidly, looks sidelong. "Kelaiah's friendship is important to me. They came into my life when I needed someone, and I want to keep being in theirs. That means being in yours too."

[staybizzy]

"That it does," Capochin agrees, nodding. There's a long, quiet moment, before he nudges her lightly with his elbow.

"You're a good kid, y'know. No matter what dat little blue hothead back in there says," he jokes. "Or that stuck up old man someone dragged out here to piss you off. Don't listen to either'a them assholes."

[cyansoldier]

Good kid shouldn't split her chest down the middle the way it does. Shouldn't smooth the quills of some long-existing, angry little creature she holds inside. Carolina draws her lip in, tries hard to school her face. A good kid— that's all she's ever wanted to be. Hear. Grow up, make mistakes, play sports and make someone proud. Look into a crowd and know you'll find exactly who you're searching for. She knows she's difficult. Rubs like hot asphalt on the people around her. People who vanish or die or otherwise cease to exist and she asks herself, again and again, is that because of me?

Stop that.

Carolina looks down at him, bites her cheek.

"Thank you."

A beat.

"I know we wrecked the punch bowl, but... maybe we could grab a drink."

[staybizzy]

"Sounds good! Lemme finish fuckin' up my lungs n' then we can head to da bar," Capochin agrees with a grin. He sucks down the rest of his cigarette like a champ, patting Carolina's back jovially. "Let's go. Whatcha drinkin'?"

[cyansoldier]

Well, at least he's aware he's doing irrevocable damage to his own body. And to be honesty, she's ready to too. Pound down a few drinks and go on like the night hasn't been an utter failure. They deserve that, right?

"Mmm, I like beer best, but I don't know if that's a thing they serve here. Is beer too... new?"

Wrap?

[staybizzy]

"Bud, they've had beer here this whole damn time," Capochin teases her, leading the way back inside. "Let's go get a couple, shall we?"

Wrap!

[cyansoldier]

"Good idea." Carolina meanders after him, nudges his shoulder. "Bet I can outdrink you."