OPEN :: A golden bird was singing

[baedalites]

Who: Everyone!
What: St Kelley's evening
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Veerdi evening.
Notes:
(1) The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.
(2) All mementos will appear overnight in some part of your character's apartment.
(3) Dance!

St Kelley's is one of the more sedate occasions in Baedal, at least as holidays go. It passes more or less unnoticed by the majority of the population as many of them feel it doesn't concern them. It's not their holiday; it's for the others. Those with severed ties and broken hearts. The temple and church preach that it's a time for reflection or for glorifying the generosity of the gods. It's one of the few days on which no one looks askance at first generation Citizens mourning their missing loved ones publicly.

As night rolls around and floating lanterns are set to sea, the Apache in Mog Hill prepares to accept guests from the newer cohorts. It's something that happens every year, making it a practical tradition. The alcohol will be cheaper for first timers, and the music will be kept at a reasonable level.

Comments

[wontturntofoam]

Shrieky touches two fingers to his lips, listening intently to all of this. There's something about the idea that the necrotic distant God had once been prone to personal intervention, only to lose interest that makes Wolfgang's cult... well, sort of depressing sounding, "You said, earlier, that he was very distant? Do you ever feel as though the covenant is broken? I mean, do you still have hope for the future?"

Shrieky isn't trying to undermine his's faith here, he suspects that this is a question that Wolfgang has to have been over in his mind enough times to have some kind of answer to it.

In response to the compliment, his expression melts into a thrilled smile, "Thank you! I have been attempting to integrate myself here as seamlessly as I'm able."

[gramarye]

Wolfgang is quiet for a long time, looking intensely at his hands -- empty beer glass in one, nicotine in the other, the brand still itching on his left hand where it's burned on there. He can't think back to a time in his life when that's been an easy question to answer, and when he goes back far enough, there's nothing at all -- just a wall in his memory. "I don't know," he says at last. "I still pray, so I must, I guess." It's an inadequate answer and he knows it. With a little shrug, he stirs finally. "Or maybe it's fairer to say that I don't, but I'd like to be wrong. Do you mind?" He gestures with his cigarette; if he smokes, he means.

(That's not just tobacco in there, but nobody in Baedal much cares, he's found.)

His smile is much more fatigued, but it's there. "Well, it shows."

[wontturntofoam]

The long period of silence makes Shrieky a little uncomfortable. It does make sense that you would struggle to be strong in faith if the deity you believed in had allowed many terrible things to befall you, he just... strangely, he expected there to be some kind of personal guarantee which Wolfgang had discovered somehow, confirming his beliefs. He tilts his head slightly, watching Wolfgang closely now, "I think... It shows great courage to continue worshiping your own God, despite all of these conditions, when there are other gods constantly trying to interact with you and give you things and who perhaps it would be easier for you to believe in."

"Oh, please do? I really enjoy watching people burn those!" He watched Fish smoke, then he watched Megan smoke, now he shall watch Wolfgang smoke. Shrieky props his elbow on the table, drops his cheek against his hand, and smiles attentively.

Not creepy at all, right?

[gramarye]

"That's a nice way of looking at it, thank you," he says, which -- no, that's not sarcastic, but it is a little light. He would like to think of it as such, but clinging to beliefs he's not even sure are his anymore seems more like cowardice to him. Anyway -- the rapturous attention to his lighting his cigarette is, yes, creepy, and also completely awkward, and Wolfgang laughs self-consciously as if he's not used to being stared at that way. (Which would be disingenuous.) "Don't start," he says, already aware of the futility of being such a massive hypocrite. ('Do as I say, not as I do,' says the guy who, now that he has money again, is burning through like a pack a day.)

[wontturntofoam]

A life underwater offers few close encounters with flame, and the way that cigarette smoke looks, almost blue in colour, as fine and intricate as lace the way it moves through the air? It's still strange and beautiful to him, and he just watches in fascination as Wolfgang lights up. He eventually tears his gaze away from Wolfgang's cigarette to actually look at Wolfgang again, "Don't start what?" Don't start questioning the smoking? Don't start staring at him? (It's certainly too late for that second one. Sorry Wolfgang.)

His eyes slowly creep back to the cigarette, "Why do you do it?"