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

[downtonabbeast]

[thanks, freddie,,,]

I know I'm a right ass for keeping it from everyone but I'm going to try to make it right.

[faciliheir]

Well, that's something. [beat] How powerful is that mirror of yours, anyway? How strong's the signal, I mean.

[downtonabbeast]

Strong enough to reach Hell and have a conversation but that's a recent addition.

[faciliheir]

What about folks that are, y'know... less dead?

[downtonabbeast]

It can't hurt to try. [We have two whole living people conversations!] You're welcome to try if you wish.

[faciliheir]

Okay... There's a thing you have to say, right... Show me CJ Hook. Calista Jane Hook. [she's. not sure if she needs to be that specific but-- oh okay it's working.

it's blurry, and she has to squint a little bit to make it out, but she quickly recognizes her room at school, the one she's been living in for the past few months. and she recognizes the slight blonde in the red coat, sitting on a bed made to look vaguely like a pirate ship with sheets-- she must've fixed it up after Freddie tore it down, that one time. and she sees her own bed, still as unmade as the day before the party.

good thing she doesn't give half a fuck about anyone who would actually be trying to mount a rescue attempt so.]

... Thanks. [which is something she's learning how to say.]

[truecalling]

I was able to get through and talk with a bunch of different people, so-- you should give it a try. I could even hear the other people around pretty clearly.