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

[not_a_traitor]

That tone grips the base of Gaeta's spine as hard as if he were still kissing him. The magnetic pull still fizzing under Neil's skin makes him want to push in, grab hold of anything he can reach, and he almost laughs; gods, could it be more obvious he hasn't gotten laid in over a year. A little clumsily, without looking, he stubs out his cigarette in the dirt so he can splay his other hand over Neil's thigh.

"Depends," he says, with a roughness that definitely isn't just the laryngitis. "Are you planning to run?"

He leans a little extra pressure against Neil's leg.