This is fine. It's fine. We're fine.

[sharpasanarrow]

[Well that was.

Something.

Underneath everyone’s door they’ll find a slip of paper, in shaky calligraphy, that reads:

INVITATION

Meet in the Dining Room.

Do not bring alcohol of any sort.

Upon arrival into the Dining Room it’s clear that this is very much...not a party.

The center of the room is cleared of all tables, and instead has all the chairs arranged in a circle, facing inwards. On the tables pushed to the side are jugs of water, cups, plates of saltines, and several hastily-made pamplets that read on the front ”How to cope with Child homicide” that contains an advisory list:

1. Try not to think about it.
2. Do not get hysterical.
3. Crying is permitted, but keep it within a reasonable volume. (For the consideration of fellow mourners)
4. Maintain civility
5. Do not plunder the belongings of the deceased.
6. No drinking or gambling your sorrows away. Set an example.

Standing in front of one of the chairs already is Mr.Arrow. He clears his throat as people start to slowly come in.]

I gathered you all here because I believed it would be conductive to group morale if we all worked through our feelings regarding recent events. Talk about your feelings with one another, but not with me.

[He steps back a little, out of the circle of chairs, in what seems to be an invitation for people to sit down and discuss with one another.]

Comments

[bayoublues]

[Louis is just going to...make his way to the tables and start shoving saltines into his mouth. This beats the vinegar from last week, but at least the vinegar helped keep his mind off of...well.

It was so, so much worse than last week. It was weird, of course, and a little gruesome, but it wasn't like this. It wasn't seeing a friend being...being....

Crumbs keep flying everywhere as he chews--he's nearly emptied an entire bowl of saltines at this point. It's fine. Everything is fine. He's just a bit catatonic at the moment.]

cw: emeto mention

[holdthetrumpet]

Hey... hey.

[Is he saying that to get Louis's attention so as not to spook him or because his mouth has been having trouble doing the words today in general and he has to get back into practice? Probably both.]

Slow down. You'll make yourself sick.

[More sick. He himself has already been sick today (how could you not after seeing that, how could anyone, good lord), he gets it.]

[bayoublues]

[He pauses for a moment, not looking at Kit. He swallows what's still in his mouth and picks up another cracker, nibbling on it slowly. He then goes to grab a pitcher of water and, after making sure it's not vinegar this time, starts to sip it. Without pouring it out into another glass. Sorry, everyone.

It takes him a few moments for him to speak, and when he does, his voice is faint.]

T-Thanks.

[There's a long pause.]

Terrible.

[holdthetrumpet]

Yeah.

[He can't even begrudge the water. It's bad manners but literally who gives even a tenth of a fuck, two children are dead, two children are dead.

He places a hand cautiously on what passes for a shoulder on an alligator.]

I know.

At least I didn't make it worse this time?

[He tries a smile and it comes out very weak. It's kind of a wince. He's trying.]

[bayoublues]

[Louis forces himself to laugh. Talking is very hard right now.]

Man, you can't get much worse than that.

[He picks up another cracker and holds it out to Kit as an offering.]

I feel like garbage. Just, straight up garbage. I'd play some music...or drink. That'd help me feel better. But it...it feels wrong.

[holdthetrumpet]

Mmhm.

[They can both be bad at talking together.

See, up until he showed up here, the worst hardship Kit ever had to endure was not being able to figure out who left a shoe at his house. The death of his mother was something distant, just a fact about himself rather than an open wound. He has no idea how to cope with any of this except by just trying to power through it with a smile on his face and by this point it is abundantly clear that approach is untenable.]

Well. Nobody said you don't have to feel like garbage. I mean. I think feeling like garbage is about right for right now. We can feel like garbage together and go from there?

cw: animal death ment

[bayoublues]

[As the future kids would say, big mood.

He thought, for a long time, that the most horrific thing that could happen to him was being shot and left for dead in the middle of the bayou. If he was lucky, he'd only see the skeletons that remained of his brethren. If he wasn't as lucky, he'd see the corpses of gators, bloated with swampwater, washed up on the riverbanks. Not that he ever really felt a kinship towards them, but it really put his own mortality into perspective. And then he'd just play his troubles away with some light jazz. The same with Ray's death--sure, it had hit him pretty hard, but he felt better knowing that he had joined the love of his life in the stars.

As the weeks wore on, it was abundantly clear that there were worse fates than being shot at from a boat or being crushed under Facilier's foot.]

Yeah. I think I'd like to feel about garbage for a little bit. [He pauses.] Feelin' like garbage is where blues comes from, man. Dunno how they manage to come up with this stuff without burtin' into tears half the time.

[holdthetrumpet]

[Blues like -- like music. Sure. He's learning more and more the longer he's here, he kind of has a better grasp on things by now. To a degree.]

Maybe doing the blues is what keeps them from breaking down?

[Doing the blues is the correct way to say that, right.]

Putting it into something else, I mean.

[If he was familiar with the idea of recycling this would be a great metaphor but he's not.]

[bayoublues]

Yeah. Playin' the blues.

[He gently corrects Kit--he doesn't want this dude to get more upset about messing things up.]

Just...channelin' that hollowness into something to make it...less hollow, I guess. I dunno if it'd be an appropriate thing to play right now, though. I mean, I left my trumpet in the music room. And, y'know, I don't wanna bother people while they're grieving.

[truecalling]

[Well. She can't blame him, but still--]

...isn't that really dry?

[bayoublues]

[He nods, taking a moment to swallow the crackers.]

Dunwanna talk.

[truecalling]

It's not good to bottle all your feelings up.

...it's okay to be sad.

[bayoublues]

...I guess.

[He stops chewing for a moment.]

Just a few weeks ago, I was talkin' to both of those kids. They seemed...they seemed like nice kids, y'know? Like nothin' could ever happen to them. And now, they....

[He trails off before putting another cracker in his mouth.]

It's a rotten world.

[truecalling]

You're right.

[She pulls her legs up to her chest.]

It's all because they felt scared. Not knowing what will happen, being threatened... they didn't deserve to live like that.

I should have... I should have done something. But... thinking like that now... it won't help.

[bayoublues]

[...]

We couldn't have done nothin' without everyone else bein' killed. I'll admit, I wasn't jumpin' to sacrifice myself at the end, 'cus y'know what? It ain't doin' nobody no good if we just die for no reason.

[That's what he keeps telling himself, at least. A coward in denial.]

[truecalling]

I know you're right. But... I'm a princess. I'm supposed to look out for others.

[It's hard not to be a little hard on yourself when you've been raised being told to think of your duty so many times.]

Still... you're right. It won't help anyone if we lose more people. We're definitely stronger together.

[bayoublues]

[He does a little double take at that.]

You're a princess?! [Jeez, how many people were royalty or had connections to royalty?] Oh...oh dang. Wow. That's a big responsibility, ain't it?

But...yeah. As long as we stick together, we should be okay!

[His expression turns to that of worry. He said the same last week, and...look what's happened now.]

We should be okay.

[bestchefinparis]

It's...a bit amazing you're in a mood to eat so much.

[Rémy had figured nobody would have appetite, but look at you! Not that...you look too good, Louis. Rémy looks like he has gotten a bit better by now, but anyone can see he's trying to force himself to be okay]

Stress-eating?

[bayoublues]

[He just nods vigorously, trying to force another sleeve of crackers down his throat. It's fine. Crackers don't resemble body parts in any way, shape, or form. After finishing up with the sleeve, he crinkles up the wrapper in his hand and turns to address Remy.]

Mr jrmph wnmpa gmurph.

[...whatever that means.]

[bestchefinparis]

Same.

[He has absolutely no idea what Louis tried to say, but he figures he should be supportive]

Maybe you should try to sleep. This day needs to end.

[bayoublues]

[He takes a swig of water to wash down the crackers and clears his throat.]

I feel like if I tried to sleep, I'd just have awful nightmares. This day needs to end on a slightly better note, man.

[Or maybe he could just use alcohol to wash it away. He'd seen plenty of humans do the same.]

[bestchefinparis]

...you're right. I doubt I'll sleep well.

[He tilts his head a bit]

I guess...the only thing I can imagine with some positivity right now is that something new will be found tomorrow. It's not a silver lining, but right now that's something to be looking forward to.

[It sure says a lot about the current situation that the only good thing to happen soon is new places opening]

[bayoublues]

[Maybe they'll get a laundry room and Remy can stop living around smelly humans 24/7]

I guess so. It almost feels...wrong, though. S'like we're being rewarded for being awful people. For being c-cowards.

[He doesn't like to admit it, but...]

[bestchefinparis]

[For now he's glad the showers are functional. You're lucky you're not the guy with the ridiculously acute sense of smell]

I was just told there's nothing wrong in caring about your own survival. It doesn't mean any of this is right, but it's not cowardly.

[For the first time tonight, he manages to actually mean what he's saying]

[bayoublues]

I...I guess so. Still doesn't sit quite right with me, though.

[Like how everyone was sort of jumping in sacrificing themselves--heck, even Pinocchio ended up volunteering.]

What kind of role models are we settin', really? I mean, regardin' the humans. All those adults today barely hesitated when it came to v-volunteerin'. And then the kids....