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

[2onostromo]

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."

[liesdontfindyou]

"What, you mean me standing there looking pretty wouldn't count a helping?" she teases, taking the offered hand and pulling herself to her feet. She still almost trips over the skirts on the way up, but she manages to get them out from under her feet before she tumbles. "Don't worry, I'll do my share. Just don't let me walk too close to the fire or I'll go up like the Hindenburg."

[2onostromo]

"I'd call it motivation."

She catches Connie by her forearms, holding her steady while she shakes loose the layers and layers of tulle caught under her. "Well, you'd better watch your step, Inferno."

Hand in hand, for no other reason than she wants to, Ripley leads the way away from the fire and toward the old storage shed. Caught under her breath, a 'we really ought to rip that damn thing'.

[liesdontfindyou]

CT comes dangerously close to making a quip about how 'rip[ping] that damn thing' might push it from motivating to distracting, before deciding to hold her tongue for now. Almost feels like ruining the energy, with her hand still in Ripley's.

Then they've got things to do. Set up their shelter for the night, maybe actually eat something from the leftover supplies up here. Wait the darkness out until morning, where dealing with getting down will become more pressing an issue. They've got time. Time to breathe.