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

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?"

[stoneoftherose]

The reproduction of a human voice immediately captures his attention; he accepts the beer automatically, without even looking at it. "I'm fine," he says shortly, and gestures to the satchel. Some kind of recording device, clearly, but how does it work?

"What's that you have there?" And would you mind terribly letting him study it?

[elvaquerito]

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.

[stoneoftherose]

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?"

[elvaquerito]

Godpoke nods. It's more or less the truth. Not like they can really explain in depth, as they are.

But they're starting to realize that maybe that's fine. Maybe they don't have the benefit they had in God Grove of everyone knowing what a Godpoke is, or having heard of the famous Megapon. Maybe people here aren't overburdened with whimsy and willing to just roll with whatever nonsense occurs to them, or so concerned with their own business that they just talk at some random silent weirdo who wanders up to them. Maybe instead people here want to do things like ask questions, and have them answered.

Maybe it's okay to just let people come to whatever understanding they can. Maybe it's okay to just figure it out. Maybe not being able to speak doesn't have to be a burden. After all, someone loves them despite it.

[stoneoftherose]

Their silence doesn't bother Pyotr. He merely nods back and starts thinking of ways to phrase his questions so that they can be answered with a simple nod or shake of the head, a yes or a no.

"Did you build it yourself?" he asks first. Shake. "Ah, so someone else built it?" Nod. "They must have been very skilled." Emphatic nod. "So you knew them?"