ph_memes | MINGLE - Post-Op(era) Recovery

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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.

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As far as Capochin's concerned, he's the one who ought to have been jealous of Shen Qingqiu's flirting with Hector, which he's managed to worth through. He gives no party to the idea of it being the other way around. (Besides, Shen Qingqiu acknowledged Capochin as being Hector's man. That's progress, right?

"Hi, baby, you want any?" He pulls one of the rarer steaks off the grill, knowing Hector's preference already.

She looks over, brow furrowed just enough to be surprise.

"Oh." Like she's only just realised this fact to be true, or even considered it an option. "So there are. Uh— sure."

Getting up proves to be a small ordeal, with all the material. She almost trips herself by stepping on part of the skirt more than once before she manages it, huffing frustratedly each time.

If they'll let me.

"I would." Not a trace of hesitation. No dancing or playing coy (despite having just returned from the stage). "Am I allowed to ask questions, too?"

Cool night air and the fire's radiance war with each other. They look ridiculous. One dressed in full costume, the other not. Neither fitted for a night of camping on Crane's Ridge summit. It doesn't matter. They aren't servants to the stage and she couldn't be happier to be sitting on the cold, hard ground.

"All you really have to do is dress-up the technical details. Having something nice to look at inclines people to listen."

Mmmm... Pokey doesn't seem to keen to hand it over. But they come and sit, and hold Megapon up for him to look at. As long as he doesn't take the satchel... Pokey's usually pretty trusting, but the idea of potentially losing their accessibility device makes them nervous.

Aw hell yeah. Godpoke immediately whips out Megapon, which inhales sharply in a way that seems to carry the sound away from Leon. With a pop, like swallowing, the suction stops. They now have a "howdy" to go with their "yeehaw" from Radar! Perfect.

To answer Leon's question, they hand him a printed card, courtesy of Pinhole:

KELAIAH VOXX
"Godpoke" or "Pokey" | They/Them
Selective mute, messenger of the gods
Megaphone is called Megapon and it is a tool for capturing and
transporting verbal language, used for messenger duties and as
an accessibility tool.
Can also use ASL.
Thank you for understanding!

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."

Leon shies back away a bit from Megapon as Pokey points it at him, surprised and unsure of what to expect. When it just... carries his voice away, though, he relaxes, satisfied that it's nothing sinister. He takes the card.

"Thanks," he says, reading it over. "That's handy. I should probably put some effort into learning ASL, huh."

It's a thought he's been having on and off for a while now. He's seen a few people around town using it, and even aside from just being a good way to bridge communication gaps with people who prefer or have to use it for whatever reason, there's some advantages he can think of to knowing a language that doesn't require you to make or hear sound. That's a pursuit for later, though.

"Anyway. I've been here since last year," he explains. "But I got lost in Paradesium for, uh. Most of the winter. Is that about when you got here?"

Radar gnaws his lip. "I think so, yeah," he says, though he doesn't sound wholly sure himself. "I, uh. I don't think I wanna be in a house all by myself after all that."

Up here with everybody setting up camp, it's kinda like being back at the 4077th. Even on the worst days, Radar could always go to sleep hearing the sounds of fifty other people breathing. That meant fifty other people who'd just been through the same awful day, too, and somehow that made it all a little easier to bear.

"Here --" She offers an arm for support, slightly bemused by how much difficulty the skirts are giving CT. It takes her a moment to remember that some people almost never wear anything with quite that much skirt.

(What she's wearing is entirely too similar to something she might wear every day; a touch lighter and floatier, with more and thinner layers of underskirt, is the main difference. Just enough to make it a costume and not her own clothes.)

That's fine. He won't try to take it from them -- it's clear how important it is. But he's fascinated by the little device, sitting down next to Pokey so he can lean close and look it over. "What an interesting little thing," he remarks quietly. "So you use this to speak?"

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.

"Well of course," CT says, playful and light, "how much of a hypocrite would I be if I said 'no questions'?"

That glimmer of light in her eyes burns a little brighter, like the brown is catching the warmth of the fire. It's nice to have someone to say they'll listen and believe them, again. Nice to remember what it's like to be heard and listen in turn, even for the little things.

"You're right, though. Sometimes the key is making sure they can't pull their eyes away."

Her face feels warm. Must be the fire.

"Thanks—"

It's a little embarrassing, really, but she's never worn a dress like this in her life and she's so very exhausted. With the arm, she makes it up and thumps down into the seat with a heavy breath.

"I feel like I've been awake for a week," she mumbles, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Heck yeah. Respectable. Treating your girlfriend is always a good reason to lie.

Pokey nods sagely, amiable. Then gestures to him.

Alright, your turn to pick on someone.

That look up to him is a familiar sight, something that warms the heart, as silly as such a little thing feels. He leans back against Capochin a bit more heavily, offering that extra little bit of closeness.

"She used'ta make 'em to give her a way to remember her favorite stories humans told her, or things she saw. She made a whole lotta 'em before 'Hauzzo ascended, but she still did it even after, for people or things that were special to her," Hector recounts quietly, taking a moment to polish off the rest of his drink. "I don't remember too many of 'em too clearly, but... I was havin' a tuff time adjustin' to bein' a god, and she came to check in on me. So, to get some time away from all'a the information comin' into my technology den, she pulled me into her domain, showed me one that she thought would help take my mind off a' everything. Ohh, how'd it go again...?"

Tipping his head against Capochin's own, he tries to remember for a quiet moment. "It was during Missy M's early days of bein' a god, when a human came to her domain, climbin' all those mountains and crossin' those seas, to challenge her. She was shocked! She'd been doin' so much to try to keep humans happy, so why would one feel the need to come up n' face off against her?

"The human explained that it wasn't outta anger, but wantin' to reach as high as she could. She was an athlete, an artist, a phil-gloss-o-fur, a cook, an explorer--- yew name it, she did it, and she mastered it. She decided there wasn't anything she couldn't do, n' the best way to prove it would be to challenge the god to somethin' and win. Then, she could say she was truly tha best humanity had to offer.

"Mitty was still soap-rised, but she decided to humor her. She didn't get too many visitors back then, so why not take some time to play a game or two wif her? And that's just what she did. Every day, for a whole year, she n' this human found a new challenge to do. First, it was to build a whole lil' settlement in a day, which she did! Then, it was anything Mitternacht could think of. Riddles, puzzles, feats, yew name it, she asked this human to do, and the human ate it all up. By the time the year was over, she did it all! Missy couldn't think of nothin' else to give her.

"Instead of feelin' accomplished, though, the human seemed upset. Missy didn't understand! Didn't she wanna be the best? Didn't she come up there to show her god what she was cay-pub-bull of? It took some pryin', but it turned out that, even though that's what she wanted originally, over that whole year, she reel-eyes'd that, once she was da best at everything, there was nothin' else for her to do! No climbin' up further from the tippy top of the world! And, once she finished her journey, she'd have to go back home, n' never see Missy again. After all their days together, she came tew love her.

"Missy had to think long n' hard about it. After all, as much as she'd love to just tell this lil' human to spend tha rest o' her days right there in God Grove, that wouldn't help her with anything to put her efforts into, would it? She'd feel stagnant, n' she wouldn't have that freedom that was so imp-port-ant to her.

"So, Mitternacht gave her one last challenge... to start her travels again, n' keep the moon in her sights as long as she was able to. And with Missy M's blessing, the human did just that. She left God Grove, slept all through the day, n' when the moon was up, she traveled under it. She'd get ahead of it to sleep, and then start roamin' the whole earth, visiting every place that the night would take her through and collecting every story she heard! It wasn't part'a the challenge, but when she would stop to rest, she'd set up a little altar to Miss Mitternacht, n' tell her the stories under that moonlight.

"For years n' years, the human did this, and Mitty got every one of those stories. And, when that lil' human finally started slowin' down, havin' a harder time chasin' that moonlight, it seemed only fair that Missy helped her one last time. She asked, n' the human agreed, taking the offer as a reward for her lifetime of success: she made one last trip up to God Grove, and after a lifetime a' moonlight, adventure, n' love, Miss Mitternacht scooped her up, held her close, n' gave her a peaceful afterlife in the stars. N' that's where we got the constellation Jozceline from! And, apparently, Missy got a type outta it."

"Some people don't like them. Can you believe it?"

Maybe she's a little facetious. Maybe she leaves out the bit where said questions stick like arrow heads into unsuspecting coworkers' backs. How 'questions' often entail lectures at the hands of their Third Officer. Sometimes it pays to be bossy. In fact, that's exactly what she'd been paid to do.

"It must be an inferiority thing. Means they have to know the right answer and usually they don't."

She gets a sense Connecticut does not have this problem.

The Agent's neck all but burns against her hand. At last Ripley moves it, tucking a strand of CT's brown hair back into place and letting it fall into her lap.

"What d'you say— are we camping or making the hike back?"

"Mm." She re-settles herself, head tucked once again neatly against Ripley's shoulder, and tries not to focus too hard on where her skin feels suddenly cold with the absence. "I think you're right."

Teachers and officers and friends alike, so often rankling against her questions, no matter how innocent or important or otherwise. Not everyone, no, but enough.

A slow breath out. "I'm tempted to just camp it out. It's late and I'm— I'm tired. I'd probably trip and break my neck in the dark, with this thing on."

"Well, now ya gotta tell me what the bastard did so's I can feel vindicated with ya."

"Christ, me neither," Edgar says fervently. "Stay here, then? Weather's good, at least."

He's also very used to going to sleep (and waking, and eating, and living his entire life) with the sounds of countless other people breathing; being alone is something that only happened after he died. Even now, it still never really feels right.

He laughs a little. "Okay. Ummm..."

As he stretches out that syllable, he looks around the gathering until his eyes land on Shen Qingqiu.

"Mr. Shen! Truth or dare?"

Cassandra pulls up a chair beside CT's, and sits down -- a little less like collapsing, but still more heavily than usual, and with a great deal of relief.

"I think the longest I've ever been awake at once was two and a half days," she says, tipping her head back to rest against the chair's back, "and I can't remember if that felt like this."

"Dare!" Shen Qingqiu whoops, lifting his drink in a casual toast. "Lay it on me, corporal! No challenge is too great!"

Ah, a musician's favorite thing--- collaboration. There's nothing quite as fun, at least for Neil, as playing an instrument and having another musician join. He's not familiar with the singing voice (probably because he didn't actually hear much of Shen Qingqiu singing at the actual opera...) and is surprised to spot the source across the way.

How very interesting!

Part of Neil considers just ignoring him, considering Shen Qingqiu has been a bit of a thorn in his side. But there is an edge of petty joy to the fact that this is in front of everyone and will surely annoy Dahlia. So he keeps playing, switching gears to lead less and accompany more, and moving toward his fellow performer.

When the song ends, Neil takes a flourishing bow to the crowd. Their applause is tired from a long day, but genuine. Then, he takes a seat beside Gaeta.

There is still a slight air of anticipatory tension. They've been friends a while now, and in that time there have been... moments that seemed like more. A brunch over magical textbooks, an invitation to Merrymeet, and now this--- a breath caught at the end of a terrible day as Neil falls, exhausted but exuberant, into his seat on a log.

"I'm a bit rusty--- or rather, I was this morning. I'm fairly certain I've shaken it by playing all damn day," he jokes. "It's been a long time since I've gotten to play. How did I sound?"

She snickers, imagining CT as a tulle tumbleweed on its slow descent down the mountain, and feels just a little guilty. Right, not funny. A broken arm or leg isn't the kind of finale she's looking for tonight. "Yeah, you're probably right about that. C'mon—"

Ripley pushes off against her knees and rises from the ground like a scrawny beanstalk. "We'll set up a camp. Maybe it'll be fun." A wry smile on fire-lit face. She extends a hand. "Unless you're going to make me do all the work."

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MINGLE - Post-Op(era) Recovery

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Cassandra de Rolo | OTA

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I think Drake asked for SQQ to go next!

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aye aye! o7

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