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

[athleticallyinclined]

He's a savage!

[ If he hasn't snapped yet, he's very close, practically yelling that last word. ]

You should have seen him last week. He couldn't even stand! He couldn't speak! He wouldn't have known his own name if he'd had one.

He would have killed you, as soon as look at you. Is that the - thing you want to spend the rest of your life with?

[greatwidesomewhere]

No, Gaston. You're the savage. You know nothing about him, only what you've decided you know.

[She looks positively fierce, by now; she doesn't quail or shy away from Gaston's words.]

...Yes. Yes, he is.

[Her cheeks are burning bright fucking red, but there. She said it.]

[athleticallyinclined]

[ He just stares, still unable to really believe all that she says.

What does she know about it, anyway. ]

I will find you, Belle.

[ It's a promise, not a threat. ]

And I will help you see reason.

[greatwidesomewhere]

[Where Gaston is concerned, Belle no longer distinguishes between promises and threats. They're one and the same, as far as she's concerned.]

I don't want you anywhere near me. I'd rather stay in Hell forever.

[athleticallyinclined]

[ He smirks, the only suggestion that she may have hurt him with those words visible in the shadow that passes over his eyes. ]

You're deranged, Belle. Just like your father.

But don't worry. I won't give up on you.

[greatwidesomewhere]

I wish you would.

[She drags a hand down her face.]

Leave me alone. And leave the Beast alone, too.

[Or she will break out of hell and fuckin destroy you.]

[athleticallyinclined]

[ Belle you're hilarious. He nearly laughs. ]

That thing has to die, Belle.

[greatwidesomewhere]

Leave him alone, Gaston. Or didn't you learn your lesson the first time?

[athleticallyinclined]

[ He just shakes his head, not hearing her pleas at all. ]

You'll thank me for this one day.

[greatwidesomewhere]

Over my dead body.

[Which. Well.]

[athleticallyinclined]

Or his.

[greatwidesomewhere]

[Yeah, no, she's. Done. She lets out a frustrated shriek and turns on her heel. He can watch her all she wants, as far as she's concerned. She's over this.]

[darthfanboy]

[....what?]

[greatwidesomewhere]

[haha hey we should. probably talk.]

[darthfanboy]

[sure just let him finish smashing something first]

[greatwidesomewhere]

[THIS IS FINE, IT'S ALL FINE]