MINGLE - Post-Op(era) Recovery

[pumpkinhollow]

On this night we drink to the death of Sorrow.

After the Fall of Efrain With the Prince of Sorrow's Song dead and gone, the opera dissipates, spitting its victims out on the summit of Crane's Ridge where the Dance of Celestine was held some months before. It's getting late, and there is no one yet in town to run the train. Some will brave the trip home simply for the sake of collapsing into their own beds and achieving some sense of normalcy. Others will do so with the hope of returning with help. But many others will simply say "fuck it" and camp out on the mountain, still fitted with extra firewood from the festival and the means to build temporary structures in nearby storage sheds. The journey down will be safer in the morning, and there's solidarity to be had in a cool spring night spent under the stars.

Oh, look, there's even some non-perishable food and wine from the Dance. Combined with what can be hunted or foraged, as well as snacks and drinks stolen from the concession stand, there's plenty to go around. This might even be a little bit fun! Anyone up for another game of Never Have I Ever? Maybe a little Truth or Dare? Or perhaps you just want to chat and unwind with your friends. Whatever the case may be, have fun. This is your time. After darkness, there is a dawn. At the death of Sorrow, there is joy.

Comments

QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/CONCERNS

[pumpkinhollow]

Caboose | OTA

[ihatebabies]

Caboose...doesn't really know what happened.

(Caboose knows a lot, more than people think he does, but has trouble understanding. Not this time. This time, he understands perfectly what happened to him, to all of them. He wishes he could know instead. Then he wouldn't understand.)

So, in the aftermath, in a place that isn't...there...he tries to help. Actually help this time, because everything is so terrible that the directions are clear. Nobody has to say anything, nobody has to tell him what to do. Not with words. Every face has the instructions written across their foreheads in the way they wrinkle up with pain or tears, or written under their eyes with lines and shadowy circles, or on the tear tracks spilling down their cheeks.

One of the storage sheds ends up ruined. Well, "ruined"...he's very upset by the things he felt and thought about during all of that, and he misses Church more than he has in a very long time, and he wants to feel better. Other people want to feel better, too.

So Caboose keeps busy by dismantling part of one of the sheds where he finds camping supplies, tents, bedrolls, stuff like that. He gives out what people need, but the stuff for himself he uses along with the stolen bits of wood and screws--and some branches--until his campsite is the shed--complete with a shockingly well put together fire pit with a comfortable little blaze and a very small, very rustic little patio area. One tent has been set up near the fire, but the other has been cannibalized to curtain off some of the walls in the shed and line the ground so the space inside is a lot more comfortable and sheltered from the night air, with bedrolls spread out a bit for sleeping or lounging.

He doesn't invite anyone directly to join him, but welcomes anyone who comes over to see precisely what the actual fuck he's doing.

Caboose is either tinkering with his little 'blanket fort'-esque project, or sitting by the fire with some of the scavenged supplies, alone, just trying to get enough to eat that he can try to avoid sleeping.

[cyansoldier]

Carolina watches him for some time.

She watches him rip wood panels from their screws with a strength most soldiers dream of. She watches him fashion pain and anger into something productive. Not productive by her own standards— throwing punches until her fists bleed, running laps until her shins splint, festering silently while tasks are completed with an almost frantic quickness— but practical. He gives supplies to those who need it; logs to make fires, blankets to spread out on the cold grass, food and water. Then he gets to building.

She watches him make the shed anew.

It's impressive, really. What he manages to do with so little supplies. Such thin bandwidth. He's in pain, she can see it even from a distance. Her hiding place between trees, arms crossed, back pressed to bark, so very far away.

She watches him sit. Warm his hands by the fire.

And she feels so, so tired.

Rare are those moments she allows herself a true break. Always things to do. Muscles to warm. She could walk home. It wouldn't be hard, even in the dark. She could be back in bed before morning, sprawled out on the ground with her blanket and pillow— more solid than her mattress, and so more ideal for sleeping. Not that she could sleep, even if she wanted to.

Agent Texas. Agent York. They gnaw jagged little edges into her brain; wounds made fresh again from her performances.

She can't sleep. Can't bring herself to walk home, either.

Thinking little of it at first, Carolina peels herself away from between old trees to approach his stupid little hut. She regrets every step. Turn around. Step. Go home. Step. He's got his own problems. Step. He doesn't need yours.

And before she knows it, she's at the foot of his makeshift patio, light and shadow dancing across her face where the fire paints her to its liking. She sits down beside him, drawing her knees to her chest and saying nothing. The fire is nice, at least.

NHIE

[sunshinesally]

"Never have I ever performed on stage!" Sally declares, cheekily proud from her throne on Crichton's lap. Gwen is in her own lap, but being nearly 2 years old and antsy from her day in a carrier, the threat of her running off after Yellow is very real. "I was behind the concession booth the entire time."

[xiaoxiuya]

"I still don't understand why they only used me for one show!" Shen Qingqiu calls out, after downing his drink. Just like last time they all gathered on this peak, he's letting himself get a little tipsy for the occasion. Because what the fuck, man, he deserves it.

"I've actually got musical training," he informs everyone within earshot. "I'm good enough to teach it to the other people, so what the hell? How'd I end up stealing -- I mean selling -- snacks?"

[incomingchoppers]

"Aw, but I was only onstage for five minutes though," complains Radar. "I was in the ticket booth the rest of the time!"

Still, dutifully, he drinks.

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"Oh, come on."

Leon tosses back a shot, though he's secretly glad for the events of like an hour ago giving him an excuse to do so and not talk about any of the embarrassing childhood recitals he could name. Sure, they weren't as traumatic as any of this bullshit by a long shot, but he still doesn't want to admit to any of it. It'd ruin his image.

[ihatebabies]

Caboose doesn't like alcohol, it takes like spoiled grape juice--but someone found real grape juice, so he's drinking that.

Except he almost doesn't drink--then does.

"I was in a school play one time? Yeaaaaah, I was a rock. Rocks don't talk. I got in trouble for talking...buuuut I think that made me a better rock!"

[thismaskismybadge]

This Gwen snickers a bit. She's being good and not drinking alcohol but she does drink. "Well-played. Thooough that would've got me even before this, yay ballet recitals. And also a band gig or two but ballet came first."

Music makes the people come together (Yeah~)

[itsjustabaddream]

Over by one of the larger bonfires, Neil can be seen all dressed up in his suit from CT's opera, magically returned to its red and black color scheme. He has a brand new violin from his role in the orchestra pit, which despite having played it all night, he's still playing. Perhaps he's in the mood for a merrier tune than the ones he's been playing. He fiddles away passionately, leaning this way and that as he plays. His joy is a little bit infectious.

[xiaoxiuya]

Shen Qingqiu, it's been well-established, is not Neil West's biggest fan. He's deeply unsettled by the thought of Neil's dreamwalking, and something about him just doesn't feel right in a way Shen Qingqiu can't seem to put his finger on. The guy's kind of a weirdo, when you think about it.

But he's also...ugh, he doesn't even want to think about it...he's also incredibly handsome. God damn it! This wouldn't be an issue if Shen Qingqiu were really as straight as he used to think he was! But the simple and painful truth is that Neil looks downright sexy in that suit, and with how well he's playing that violin...it's just too much. It's really too much! Shen Qingqiu has to do something before he loses his mind!

As Neil starts in on a new song, Shen Qingqiu abruptly realizes that it's a tune he recognizes, and before he knows it he's singing along, his voice ringing out nice and clear across the impromptu camp. Well, why not? Wasn't he just complaining to Sally about how Efrain wasted his talents??

[not_a_traitor]

A funny thing can happen when a large chunk of your emotions get ripped out of you. Like clearing away a tangled overgrowth to expose the seedlings underneath, other, more pleasant things start to surface.

Are they feelings, too? Gaeta isn't quite sure. In an academic way, he's noticed that Pyotr didn't tear everything out of him. What's left behind is blunted, yes. But not gone like the grief is gone.

As Neil plays, Gaeta smokes a cigarette and watches with an almost dreamlike appreciation. There's no awkwardness or anxiety left like there was at Merrymeet. None of that self-deprecating embarrassment over feeling like a teenager at a school dance. Just this: Neil looks good.

Sephiroth | OTA

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth stands on the hill, looking over everyone there and the complicated way down. He’s still the way he left himself after the end of his performance, with the seven wings on his back. He sees no reason to hide them now. He offered to take anyone down who wanted to go, but so far he hasn’t had anyone take him up on it and he’s not sure if he wasn’t heard or if they don’t trust him to do it.

How could they trust him, a madman who thought himself a god, destroyed towns and innocent lives, and tried to damage the entire Planet in his thirst for knowledge and power?

What will happen back in town? Should he resign his position? Leon still accepts him, but will others?

He doesn’t know what to think. Everyone’s pain was laid bare for everyone else to see. If the demons wanted it to tear them all apart, it looks more like they’re adapting, still caring, still ... accepting and trusting.

But does that include him?

He really wants to go home to Zack and Lucy, petting their soft fur and just being silent for a while. But ... if most everyone wants to stay here tonight, should he linger? It doesn’t look like he’s needed. Would leaving look bad?

Does he care? He never used to, but ... he never had the chance for any kind of a normal life before. He doesn’t want to ruin it. If he hasn’t already.

Still ... he wants to go home.

He stands by, feeling on the outside of everything, watching the others yet not feeling truly involved in their methods of coping.

How he wishes the human Zack were here. And Angeal.

And Cloud ... no matter how foolish it is to wish that. But Cloud will never accept, never forgive. Of course he won't. He shouldn't. And Sephiroth will never try to force his way back into Cloud's life, despite longing for Cloud to care about him when he's sane.

He turns away tiredly, starting to spread his wings.

Godpoke's Cowboy Truth or Dare Circle

[elvaquerito]

[ Space for up to 5 players! We'll popcorn it around to each other. ]

Over by the best view of the sky, there's a well-built tent set up in true cowboy fashion with a large, square frame and a small fire out front. Godpoke sits on a log, waving people over silently.

Once they've accumulated a small crowd, they hold up Megapon, and in a burst of gentle blue light accompanied by a cheerful pop, they expel three simple words spoken by their girlfriend in the direction of the person to their left.

"Truth or dare?"

[incomingchoppers]

"Uhhhhhh..."

Radar's only halfway through the beer he's been nursing, but for someone with Radar's constitution, that still means he's gotta give Pokey's question a bit more thought than usual.

"Truth?"

Wildcard as discussed!!

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

Leon's not much one for games like truth or dare and as such passes the circle of braver souls by on his way to check on the others, but the weird megaphone-like thing gets his attention, as does the new person that comes carrying it. Or new to him, at least - he was stuck in that hole for a good long while. Could be they showed up months ago and he just wasn't around to notice.

Either way, point is they stick out enough that he decides to swing by after the game's died down and introduce himself. Why not, right?

"Hey," he says, gesturing to the log next to them. "Got room for one more?"

Pyotr Stamatin (OTA) [cw: themes of self-harm and depression]

[stoneoftherose]

He should leave, perhaps. Nimona's fight with Efrain was quite spectacular, and his glass creatures played no small part in the battle. A number of people might be quite annoyed with him by now...but somehow, Pyotr can't really bring himself to care.

He must have stripped out too much fear, or perhaps he left behind too much of his depression and its attendant, his deathwish? Reason tells him that he's likely to get jumped by a belligerent drunk if he hangs around the party too long...but it also points out that if he feels guilty or bitter later, he now has a productive use for those emotions.

Maybe he'll stick around for a little while. Just to see how the party's mood develops.

[elvaquerito]

Leaving one of the little supply sheds, there is a little cowboy with a small wooden crate of bottles, presumably beer. They're headed back toward the campsite at a jaunty little trot when they notice Pyotr, taking a few more steps before halting and walking backwards cartoonishly. They set down the crate, grabbing two bottles, and jog over to him, handing him one.

The satchel at their hip has an odd, mouth-like apparatus sticking out of it. They remove it, fiddle with a setting briefly, and then out comes a pop of blue light and a sound. A voice. That of James Sunderland, to be precise. "You holding up okay?"

Cookin' wit' da Capo [now with 100% less cannibalism!]

[staybizzy]

For the Dance of Celestine, several booths were erected with flame grills, which were then collapsed and stored nearby for next year's festival. By the time hunting parties come back with meat to be cooked, Capochin has already taken up a post at one of these reassembled grilling stations--- a significant change of tune from the man who had just spent twenty minutes earlier grousing about how he was too old for camping.

Capochin takes pride in feeding the masses. Anyone up for venison steak or rabbit stew? Come and get it! There's also flame-popped popcorn for snacking on, stolen from the concession stand. Plenty to go around! Capochin also wouldn't complain about a sous chef to help him keep up with the crowd.

Or perhaps you catch him in a quiet moment afterwards, sitting outside his shared tent with Hector, gazing up at the stars with a clean plate and a full head, half-empty cup still in hand from the drink he's been nursing.

[xiaoxiuya]

What's that, the scent of food that isn't completely infused with sugar? Count him in~

"Oh, bless you. A thousand blessings on you and your family," Shen Qingqiu declares, bellying up to the bar -- that is, the stall counter. He's already gotten a little tipsy; once he loosens his cultivation's control over his body, his naturally low tolerance is quick to kick in. He fans himself to cool his own face, asking, "Is any of that delicious-smelling steak ready?"

Never Have I Ever

[yournewsidekick]

"Ahem."

Nimona vaults onto the nearest table, clearing her throat dramatically. She lifts her tankard high. (All that's in there is a milkshake.)

"Never have I ever," she bellows, "MURDERED THE PRINCE OF SORROW'S SONG!!"

And then she slams down her whole drink in one go, spikes the tankard onto the ground, and whoops as she gives the whole crowd the double horns.

[hate_gettin_older]

"WHOOOOO!"

Guess who's throwing the double horns right back at her!

Agent Connecticut / CT | OTA + NHIE

[liesdontfindyou]

Aftermath

The opera dissipates and yet it leaves behind remnants in the unfamiliar clothes that still hang from CT's frame. Exhausted and emotionally drained, CT sinks to the ground where she stands and sits in a sea of brown and fawn fabric, pooling around her like a vortex trying to drag her down, swallow her up. With one hand flat against the ground even through the material, and the other tucked into her lap, she lets her head fall lazily against her shoulder and stares into the flickering blaze of the campfire.

She's so fucking tired.

NHIE

"Never have I ever had a dad," is CT's offering to the game, after she's had a little while to decompress. "Not for tragic reasons, or anything, my moms were just very, very much gay."

NHIE

[incomingchoppers]

Oh, no, Radar's about to make it sad.

He raises his hand and asks, with full earnestness, "Does it count if your dad died when you were so little that you don't remember?"

Look, he just wants to make sure he gets it right!

Radar O'Reilly | OTA + NHIE

[incomingchoppers]

if there's a book of jubilations / we'll have to write it for ourselves

Efrain knew exactly what to do with someone like Radar, who's most in his element when he can hear, anticipate, and help the people he loves: stick him in the ticket booth, just close enough for him to hear every crystal-clear note of the opera, and make sure he could never leave. The only break he got wasn't even a break -- it was just so he could get hustled onstage for five minutes, too. Then it was right back to the ticket booth to tear off more stubs as a neverending line of demons filed in.

But as the camp takes shape, Radar's finally able to check on everybody. He circles through the crowd, his whole face pinched with worry as he taps the shoulders of people he knows -- and even a couple he doesn't.

"Hey," he asks, "you okay?"


so come and lie beside me darling / and let's write it while we still got time [cw: alcohol]

He's not gonna turn down a beer. Or two. Maybe three, but he's gonna drink the third one extra, extra slow, because by then he's drunk enough for his hearing to get all scrambled. Radar pays very close attention to anybody who talks to him at that point; if he doesn't, he's liable to start holding an entire conversation with the things they aren't saying, instead of the things they actually are.

Still, it doesn't always work. "They're over there," he might say to you out of the blue, waving absently toward whatever you just thought about needing.

Or: "Yeah, that's what I said!" when you haven't said anything at all.

Or he might jump, suddenly, even though it's totally quiet -- only for a distant wolf howl to sound about five seconds later.

(At least he's also drinking plenty of water in between. He more than learned his lesson at the beach party last year.)


never have i ever

"Never have I ever owned a pet cat."

It's absolutely a technicality -- Bandit's not really a cat, and the barn cats back home were too feral to be pets -- but that's what the game is all about!

book of jubilations

[hate_gettin_older]

"Hey." Edgar's expression is ... complicated; there's a hollow-eyed hurt there, unmistakable, but it's heavily overlaid by an almost savage satisfaction and pride.

And, at the sight of Radar, with an immediate concern. "Yeah, 'm okay -- what about you? Din't see you at all back there --"

Zivia Birnbaum | OTA

[tehilim127_1]

Zivia didn't have any part of her life turned into a stage show tonight, and you know what, she's just not going to spend much time thinking about that right now. A lot of people here have just had a real bad time, and she's going to be making the rounds to check in. Whether or not you've ever had more than a casual interaction with her, she's probably passed by to ask if you're okay, and if you need anything. She might even participate briefly in some of the pick-up games going on.

And at some point, she'll find a quiet spot to sit with Degas and just rest, before starting to round up a group of anyone who wants to head back to town but doesn't want to go alone.

[2onostromo]

Zivia's lap around camp brings her to a far shed, picked nearly-clean in the group's efforts to stay warm and fed for the night. There, she'll find Ripley groping blindly for a moment of quiet. Moonbeams cut out her shape from the midnight curtain behind her. She presses her back against the shed wall. It's perhaps the only thing keeping her upright. That, and an adamance to hold it together.

A hand on her shoulder makes her jump.

"Zivia— sorry, it's... it's been a long night."

Felix Gaeta | OTA

[not_a_traitor]

It's a long walk down from Crane's Ridge. Even if everyone hadn't just gone through yet another massive ordeal courtesy of the local demons, Gaeta would be disinclined to make the trek.

Considering the aforementioned ordeal, though, he's oddly... calm. He doesn't participate in the games that spring up; just takes a seat against one of the larger stones scattered around, quietly smoking and drinking as he observes. His affect isn't exhausted, or shocky, or dissociative. It's vaguely curious at best. Maybe a bit distant or analytical.

Well -- he didn't have to perform onstage, right? Just sing in the orchestra pit. Maybe that's why he doesn't seem as bad off as some of the other Hollowites.

(It's not why.)

Cassandra de Rolo | OTA

[not_the_last]

Camping outside overnight isn't something Cassandra has done often, but right now it seems like a better idea than hiking down the mountain. Right now, she's sitting in a folding chair by one of the campfires; she's also about halfway through her second glass of wine, and trying to convince herself that she really ought to eat something too.

A little later in the evening, having lost track of how much wine she's had, she can be found in the circle of people playing games.

"Never have I ever," she begins, pauses to organize the words, and finishes "been a citizen of a democracy."

[incomingchoppers]

For about ten seconds, Radar stares into space, vividly imagining Major Burns crashing the campsite and launching into an hour-long rant.

Then he shudders all over and takes a long drink.

Gwen Stacy | OTA

[thismaskismybadge]

Gwen can't seem to bring herself to sit still for long. She flits around helping make the space as comfortable for this impromptu camp-out, or checking on people she knows (especially the kiddos), or just... moving. Occasionally she takes a break, warming herself by the fire or grabbing a snack, but sometimes even those breaks are taken higher up on the rocks where few have an easy time climbing—though perhaps she'd come down or help you climb up.

For the first time in... a long time, she's in her supersuit. She keeps picking at the fabric, smoothing it out, adjusting where the hood sits. Like remembering how to wear her own skin.

NHIE

"Never have I ever finished high school." She flashes a stupid peace sign. "Runaway life! Who needs a diploma, anyway."

NHIE

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar waves a peace sign back at her, with a grin. "Never had any kind of school."