Noli equi dentes inspicere donati.

[baedalites]

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Swap meet.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Sukkardi the 14th of Haneden
Notes:

• Swap Meet Spreadsheet: Pre-chosen swaps are green. Assigned are blue. There were a few characters that were selected more than once, so objects were assigned on a first-come first-serve basis. If you have any issues or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact the mod team.
• For objects that might not be immediately apparent as belonging to their owners, there may be a picture or name attached, or players are welcome to have their characters ~just know~ it's for them. Drr drr drr, bb.
• Party post nights are a great time to come join the chatroom.
• The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.

Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap.

Comments

[martyrdomoption]

His eyes widen as Hal's words sink in. "You..." It would knock the wind out of Mitchell if he actually needed to breathe, and there is this small, wavering moment where he doesn't know what to say because there's to much to ask. Then in a rush--

"How is she?" And George, and the baby, but right now all he can think is Annie even though it doesn't feel as though he has a right to think about her, in that way, after everything he's done. But for now, his guilt is momentarily paralyzed by his unanswered question.

[incaptivity]

"She's—" That's a terrible place to pause and Hal knows it, but the question catches him more off-guard than it ought. Of course he would ask that. Always the calm and collected one in the midst of other people's grief, his own is far less neat; three weeks out, and it's still raw and jagged-edged and catching on the edges of his emotions unbidden. He seems to steel himself. "She seemed content, when last I saw her."

That's not untrue, but it's also not all, as is evident enough in the tense pause that follows that answer. But there's no avoiding this forever.

"I'm afraid Annie has moved on."

[martyrdomoption]

"--oh. Okay."

It doesn't matter, in the silence that follows, that she is --was-- a ghost, or had died many years ago, or that the entire time he knew her, she was dead. Something weighs in his chest like lead and he's doing his best to try and hide it. He even looks away for a moment, around the room, as though she could be there, because --why isn't she? There's him and Ivan, and now Nina and Hal. Why not George? Why not Annie?

Mitchell is so used to guilt consuming him, but the brutal truth is he doesn't deserve to see them again, to ask them to forgive him. And so he bites at his lower lip, doing his best to nod stoically. "She wasn't pulled through, though? By the men with sticks and rope? No one --she went by herself?"