crescentview | Town Hall Meeting The Second

Town Hall Meeting The Second

WHO: Everyone willing
WHAT: van Zieks trying to catherd, again, in order to Establish Law & Order.
WHEN: Sometime in the Summer between the various events.
WHERE: the forest, outside van Zieks' farm.
WARNINGS: chaos mostly, more will be added if needed.

[A week or so after the chaos of Hot or Not, each farm will recieve another missive from Barry Z himself, chief buzzkill, who clearly learned nothing from how things went last time. It reads as such;]

To All Parties Brought to the Island by the Harvest Goddess,

Tomorrow at 11AM sharp, please arrive at the location indicated on the map shown of the reverse of this document. The topic of discussion on the table is the potential establishment of some form of social contract and body of law. As before, I cannot force attendance, however, I would again hope everyone sees the benefit in being involved in this discussion.

Sincerely,
Lord Barok van Zieks, Esquire

[And again as before, there's a map on the back. This time leading one to van Zieks' residence, an orderly forest farm with a nice stable currently housing the horse van Zieks rode in on to make himself the boss of things, apparently.

At the time of the meeting, there are two tables that were clearly brought out from inside. There are... snacks? Van Zieks is not a chef, you will have these strawberries and fried mushrooms and you'll like it, I guess. There was an attempt. Van Zieks himself is still dressing in his less fancy- but still absurd for this weather- three piece suit.]

Than you all for coming. I understand that the topic I have put on the table may seem... needlessly dire to some, however, in the case that something does happen, it would be far better for us to already have a system in place. I do not think we currently require any sort of active police force, but rather that we should have some sort of agreed set of behavior in place, and then elected individuals to adjudicate any potential disagreements.

As far as a social contract, on Mr. Trahearne's advisement, it would follow thusly; [He pulls out another paper to read from.]
- Do not cause unsolicited physical harm to one other.
- Do not harm or otherwise disrupt another person's farm.
- Do not damage, destroy, or unlawfully take possession of another person's property.
- Do not vandalize or otherwise disrupt communal spaces for us or the townspeople.
- Do not behave in such a manner that would elicit broad reprisal against the group as a whole from the townspeople or the goddess.

If anyone has any other thoughts, feel free to share them. I feel that this is basic enough that even those of you more prone to... rebellion can agree to it.

The second matter is to discuss how to handle if someone does break these rules. While I have made clear before my prior experience with the law, I understand that a system like this can only function if there is trust in those enforcing it. Thus I think that the authority should be given to whoever the group as a whole feels most comfortable entrusting it to. So I open the floor to nominations for that responsibility.

Finally, I'd like to make clear why this is necessary. I have spoken to the goddess, and as long as it does not directly interfere with her and her means, she has no intent of intervening if something were to happen to one of us. We are not her "people," the residents of the town are. Therefore, it is imperative that we work together to protect ourselves.

[And now he will step back and hope that some productive discussion happens.]

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Home was never unfavourable, by any means.

[ He thinks of his mother's boughs. They're perfect. ]

But I spent much of my life alone among the undead. And the circumstances that brought me here were...less than ideal. [ He raises his glass. ] Peace is not something I've known for very long.

( The implication of the distinction behind the word "home" is lost on Mishka, but he senses it is an important one to Trehearne, so who is he to quarrel with it? )

Hah! As happens, my country is likewise rife with the undead. ( He grins, a little, because it's not really something to bond over at a party, and the character of the conversation amuses him. ) Nor were my circumstances favorable, prior to my coming. In truth, I had resigned myself to a proper damnation - and then I found myself here.

I have been holding my time here close, lest there come a time where this dream ends.

[ Look, Trahearne is the kind of guy who'd bring up undead anyway. Because he finds them fascinating.

There's a flash of sympathy, understanding behind Trahearne's drunken haze. That sounds familiar.

He offers a kind smile, not a pitiful one. The kind he'd want to see when breaking the news to another. ]

...As have I, on both counts. [ He looks out over the crowd, the chaotic drunkenness is soothing, in a way. He spots Syrlya, and smiles. ] This is everything, when one has nothing to look forward to.

( trahearne is so saccharine im going to die

Mishka, though, respects the sympathy Trahearne offers him, and finds himself surprised when he answers that he has experienced the same - how likely is that?

It is not hard to trace Trahearne's gaze to its anchor, and see that Trahearne's feelings toward Syrlya are painfully clear. It stirs familiar in some way Mishka cannot place, when he thinks on the relief he felt, seeing Adelis still whole; yet untouched. Still. )

... Knowing what it is like, would you damn yourself for him? ( No subtlety at present; not with this many drinks at him. His gaze falls from Syrlya, and drifts further, as if trying to catch another in the crowd. ) Did you, already?

[ There's a sting in his chest--not from heartache, but from Syrlya's parting gift. It's healed, mostly, except some days he thinks it will rip open all over again and consume him whole, leaving him with nothing.

Or is that the heartache?

Trahearne brings a hand to his chest, out of habit and comfort. ]

I would do anything for him. Anything to ensure the future he lives through is a prosperous one, and full of happiness.

[ He drops his hand and dips his head in a nod. As much as he wishes, painfully, he could have been there by his side this whole time...

And into the future. ]

( He laughs, a little wryly - not at Trahearne, but at the familiarity of the sentiment. It's a much kinder, much more beautiful way than Mishka would ever put it, but his expression suggests that he understands the heart of it. )

... Would that my words were half as lovely as yours. But I hope he understood. ( He exhales, and it sounds almost like a sigh - but he smiles, all the same. ) My Adelis did not. The last I saw of him, I think he came to loathe me for it. The one here has not yet lived through it—

( But on this they differ, he thinks, because Mishka had no delusions of their future together. Idle fantasies, maybe - but belief? Never. The Syndicate would hunt him. He had convinced himself of this, so it would be that much easier to give in.

But still, it would have been nice.

He falters, emerging from the flicker of his reverie. )

... I don't regret it, though. For similar reasons, I suspect.

[ "My" Adelis? Hmm.

Perhaps once, long ago, Trahearne believed in a chance of a future with Syrlya. But that quickly vanished in the jungle when he fell. He resigned himself to a fate that would never give them time together like this. Only now, under the goddess's benevolence, has he begun to entertain the idea.

And so, he understands. He offers Mishka a kind, if not strained smile in turn. ]

...This might be strange to say, but I'm glad I met you.

[ He may be drunk, but the sentiment is genuine. ]

I understand. More, perhaps, than I should. I find myself hoping for your success for the most selfish reasons.

[ Because he can easily wish for the success of another, but not himself. ]

( The genuine heart of the sentiment disarms him, and he meets it with a smile that - softens, in a way he does not realize. )

For my success may mean your own? ( He says, as if in jest, but understanding. ) ... I have been alone with my thoughts for quite some time - I'll admit, it's not unpleasant, to hear them echoed back in another voice.

( Still, he leans in, this time as if to discuss secrets. )

... Would you give up, even if Syrlya chose to be with another? Or would you pursue him, even then?

[ Trahearne offers a small smile at that. It isn't unpleasant, no. It's...strangely liberating to hear all his fears voiced. He almost feels lighter around Mishka as a result.

But when he leans in, he gives him his full attention. And it makes him think. His brows furrow in thought, eyes fixed on Mishka's face. ]

...I can't say. I want him to be happy, and I will do anything to make sure he is.

[ ... ]

But selfishly, I want to know what he wants first before I decide to unilaterally remove myself from the equation. Because--

[ --Well. There's a sliver of hope, and he clings to it. ]

( Ah, and there Trahearne goes, speaking in a voice so familiar to Mishka, but in plainer words than Mishka ever could.

He holds Trahearne's answer in his heart, turning it uneasy. On an objective metric, Trahearne's heart is right, even if it is desperate - he ought ask Syrlya before he gives up. Perhaps Syrlya will realized he's loved Trahearne more. Perhaps Syrlya would give Trahearne a chance.

Mishka - doesn't want to go out with Adelis. He doesn't feel that way for him, he decides. But he - if he were to ask Adelis to be beside him, even as master and student, he wonders if he could do this guiltlessly. )

... I think that is a wise move. ( He says finally, with a laugh. ) Fortunately, it is an easy thing, yes? You only have to speak with him.

...Perhaps easier than I imagine it to be.

[ It should be easy. While the feelings themselves are not all complicated, the situation that's surrounded them has been for years. Constantly pushed to the wayside in face of greater dangers and more destinies more important. And then suddenly sundered by the impossibly gap between them that was death.

Yet now here they were, ostensibly placed here to face those feelings, but no longer is it just the two of them. There are others. And Trahearne, in his constant self-effacement, finds it almost impossible to place himself between Syrlya and anyone else.

That doesn't matter, though. Mishka is too much like him for him to ignore. He looks up, concern on his face. ]

Why don't you speak with Adelis?

( It is easy - he acknowledges that when Trahearne puts it so succinctly. But when Trahearne asks why he doesn't do the same in turn, he hesitates. )

... While there is a strong chance he will simply say he has outgrown our relationship, ( he says with more certainty, quite sure of his chance of rejection, ) there is still some small chance he may be swayed to remain attached to me, against his better judgment.

( He runs his thumb along the rim of his glass. )

... I feel certain there is a chance I will return to the state I was in prior to my coming. And... he is rarely pleased, around me. I hesitate to keep him at half-satisfaction, and then, once he's learned to settle for it, cut things off when things return to the way they were, before.

It would be a difficult thing, to know I will fail him again.

[ It sounds so familiar, it tugs at parts of himself that Trahearne had been content to ignore for so long. If they are to "go back" to precisely the moment from whence they were pulled, then Trahearne is to return to the void as well. To whatever afterlife the sylvari are sent. He may be faced with oblivion, but Syrlya would then have to live with the memory.

It sounds much the same for Adelis and Mishka. ]

But it is better to have done than wished it happened, is it not? [ He says this, partially to encourage Mishka, but mostly to himself. Slowly, inside of him, he feels the courage building. Could Syrlya live with the regret of another missed opportunity? Trahearne knows he himself could not.

His musing is cut short, however, when another thought comes to him. ]

Perhaps...if the goddess has the power to bring us here, then she has the power to send us to wherever we request.

[ It's a thought. But. It's one worth entertaining. ]

( The idea that the Goddess may be implored gives him pause, and on his face there is a flicker of recognition that the suggestion has merit. He had not once considered her a factor, and for good reason - he and Adelis and all the creatures and Ostoya had been tossed about by the whims of these arbitrary deities, and dealing with them has only left them worse off than where they'd began.

But if there is a chance - if there is a price to pay - perhaps it may be worth the cost.

No, no - he had said this about Valerie's deal, hadn't he? The Sage's, as well. The monkey's paw curled in quick. But...

Clearly, he's conflicted. )

... It's likely. ( Logically, that's the only reasonable answer. Based on what she's shown she can do... yeah. ) Then, you suppose the only thing for it is to ask them?

( Syrlya included, )

[ He cannot rule out the wish that comes with a completed bingo card. Part of him clings to it like his literal life depends on it--that he may return alive to Tyria. ]

It may be worth it.

[ Who knows, if they don't try?

Behind the buzz of the alcohol, Trahearne reaches to grip Mishka's arm. Little does he know he's full of bugs. ]

I see much of myself in you, Mishka. I...I find myself hoping for the best for you.

( Mishka exhales soft, like a laugh, as Trahearne remarks what he has not put into words himself. The advent of his feelings is - a strange and unfamiliar language, and he does not speak it fluently.

He can posture all he likes toward flirtation and physical affection. He's no different than a tourist repeating phrases from a handbook.

He places his hand over Trehearne's own, leaning just that much nearer - not in a slutty way this time - his voice falling low. )

... If you are this much my mirror, then my curiosity tests me.

( Sure, they have some similarity in pining for company they cannot have - Trahearne romantically, and Mishka not. But that is a common feeling to have. Unremarkable. And certainly they are both withheld from life whence they came, but that, too, is likely coincidence. There is no reason they ought share more.

But that brief flash of those people of the forest; that hint of green and jungle; that vision of Syrlya coalesce, strangely, in his rotten mind. And he wonders. )

... Do you contend with a voice inside you, that asks you to yield? Has it tempted you, even knowing its comforts come at a terrible price?

[ The questions catches Trahearne off guard; soon, his sympathetic eyes give way to a visage of panic, eyes wide as memories of his terrible, terrible fate come back to him.

His mouth falls open for a moment before he can find the words to respond to Mishka. Memories of the dragon's voice fill his mind, and it leaves a sick, gut-twisting sensation in him. ]

...Mordremoth.

[ He breathes, at once trying to sober himself up while find the words to respond to Mishka. He blinks, and with every moment his eyes are closed he sees the disaster that was Maguuma. A disaster he, very likely, brought about. ]

It was you, wasn't it? The one who shared with me in my dream.

( So it was Trahearne. Twice can only be a coincidence, but thrice must be a pattern - though he cannot guess as to the purpose.

He nods, slow. )

... So it was. Know that I am not generally a dreamwalker - I had not understood entirely what it all meant until it was nearly over. But...

( "He is my only hope," he had said. It sounds so much like Trahearne, now that he has heard him speak of Syrlya.

He cannot help his interest. In the same way Trahearne has come to be invested in Mishka as a reflection of his own success, so, too, has Mishka, in some small way. )

... Is this Mordremoth truly a god, that's heckled you? Has it left you yet be?

Edited 2023-01-22 22:05 (UTC)

[ There's a moment of silence before Trahearne even entertains the idea. His gaze sets in the distance as his thoughts ruminate; he's scarcely gotten the chance to speak of anything that happened to him in the jungle. Kaspar knows bits and pieces, fragments of the memories and dreams that haunt him in his less guarded moments. Syrlya knows nothing. He cannot bear to bring himself to lay out every detail of the pain that tormented him in every day he delayed in finding him. It's not his fault. As much as the other sylvari will insist it is.

Slowly, he finds his words. ]

It was no god. It simply demanded fealty by virtue of being our creator alone. It wanted nothing more than to consume, as all Elder Dragons are wont to do. My submission...would have meant the end of Tyria.

[ As much as he hates to admit it, he was the most powerful threat against Mordremoth, what with the Pact and entire sylvari race behind him. He knew the risk, and thus he resisted for over forty days.

He turns his eyes back to Mishka, head tilting as he does so. The ambient hum of conversation and the cicadas are a welcome quiet compared to the dragon's voice in his mind. ]

The goddess's revival seems to have removed all that was left of Mordremoth's influence. [ A small pang of fear strikes him, and his brows lift in defense. ] Crescentview is not in danger. I assure you.

( Mishka listens with metered patience, finding Trahearne's tale a tall one - but not unbelievable. He has known the strange entities that roam not only Ostoya, but Etharis as a whole, and how they posture at being gods - how they force worship, and threaten great consequence for indifference.

At the final remark, though, he shakes his head. )

I had not worried for Crescent View so much as I worried for you.

( Perhaps callous to Crescent View and all of them in it, but true. Still, worry is an incredibly generous word, and unfamiliar one on his lips. But he is short on nuance while drunk, and Trahearne does not need to be privy to his troubles with emotional vocabulary.

Still, it sounds like Trahearne's burden is a great one - perhaps greater than his own. He wonders if they're really comparable. )

... Well, I have not been visited by malevolent entities in my mind in that way, and I am not in such a privileged position as you. ( He is, he feels, remarkably unspecial, his troubles of no note - and so, they deserve no explanation. Why explain why he acts as he does to others when it's all so painfully trite? ) Still... I understand in some regard, perhaps. At least, I felt as you felt in the moment. You would have lost yourself to this dragon, and then the rest of everything would have gone with it, yes? I understand that, in my own manner.

Edited 2023-01-23 00:05 (UTC)

[ Another's worry is a precious thing; the only sign that Trahearne is touched by how Mishka expresses that for him is how he blinks. They are nearly strangers. Yet the other has understood the weight and the risks behind his dream, thought not of the risk he could have posed to Crescentview had Mordremoth's seed remained in him, but of the mental hardships he gone through being under the weight of the dragon's voice and how it subsumed him.

Even if they aren't comparable, Trahearne appreciates the sympathy all the same. He nods at Mishka's assessment. ]

You are correct. That thought alone was enough to keep me hanging on. I love Tyria too much to let any harm befall it.

[ And speaking of--

He glances out over the crowd again, spotting Syrlya. ]

I held on long enough for Commander Syrlya to find me. In ending me, he defeated the dragon and saved Tyria.

In a way, he saved me as well.

[ Better the empty void of death than a lifetime of torment. ]

( Ah...

Mishka pauses, as the pieces fall together - the things he had seen; the things Trahearne had said; the things Trahearne says now. And in this moment he considers— not Trahearne, but Syrlya, because he sees some distant echo of Adelis in this regard.

He had seen Adelis's hurt, and how it tore at his chest, in those last few moments Mishka had been himself; he wonders, too, if Syrlya had felt some similar way.

He rights the flaws in his expression, after a moment. )

... That explains what I'd seen, and felt. ( He imagines - in many ways, death is preferable to the death of the self, and the death of a world you love. He could relate to one part of this, and for this he understands Trahearne's gratitude. ) It must have been hard on him, though.

( Syrlya, he means. )

[ Clear, sympathetic pain immediately crosses Trahearne's countenance at the comment. It's something he thinks of constantly; the reason it has scarcely come up between the two of them is because it hurts much too deep. It is too painful. Though Trahearne has unconditionally forgiven Syrlya for it--it is not, has never been his fault--he doubts it's easier for Syrlya to look at those wounds. He's had to sit on them for many, many years, after all. ]

I can't imagine how hard.

[ His voice is similarly pained, cracking quietly under the threat of tears. His eyes remain on Syrlya; though jovial he seems now under the influence of so many shots, he knows what weighs on his soul. And perhaps even he is scarcely aware of its depths, even with their empathetic connection. ]

I... I wish I could ease his pain.

[ He would lay his own soul bare for him, he would give everything, if it meant easing his burden.

Though that might be a little counterproductive. ]

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Town Hall Meeting The Second

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heart of thorns spoilers cocoa is banned from looking at this comment

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