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]

"Trying," She mutters and slumps against the wall some. "I didn't have a performance of my own, if that's what you mean. I guess I should feel lucky. Are you holding up okay?"

[tehilim127_1]

"I didn't have one either. And yeah, seems like that ought to be good news, I dunno." She gives a small, not particularly convincing smile. "I'm holding up okay, yeah. Just checking around, trying to make sure everyone else is too."

[2onostromo]

"We're good at making the most of a piss-poor situation, that's for sure." Ripley scans the crowd for emphasis. Some folks pitch tents, others gather around the fire playing games. She realizes, amidst observation, how collective strength singlehandedly keeps her nerves from snapping.

Others might call it collective delusion. She isn't sure.

A pause while she contemplates something, catching bottom lip between teeth.

"Can I ask you a question, Zivia? About the person whose— about that play I was in?"

[tehilim127_1]

"Sure." Her gaze stays direct as she adds "And I'll answer it if I feel like I can."

[2onostromo]

"What do you know about her? I saw her sort of, unravel, in the dressing room. She told me to come find her once everything quiets down and I don't necessarily like not knowing what I'm walking into."

[tehilim127_1]

Zivia frowns slightly in thought. "About what happened on stage, I don't know any more than you do. About Fever here and now? We've been working together at Town Hall for coming up on a year, so ... I know she's reliable. Does what she says she'll do. Steps up when there's extra help needed. Kind, when people are having trouble."

A pause. "I could probably tell you a little more with some more specific questions."