Louis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bayoublues) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
foolishmortals2018-02-10 09:27 pm
bayoublues) wrote in foolishmortals2018-02-10 09:27 pm
An Early Mardi Gras
[That was certainly...an ordeal, alright. These trials just kept getting worse and worse as time went on. Within the span of twenty-four hours, six more people died. Four of them had been friends. And Lekmet, he--he thought--
Never mind that. Everyone else was probably hurting just as bad as he was. Last week, Kim had told Louis that he shouldn't be alone while he was sad--that sympathy probably extended to everyone else. He had to do something to help. The dead deserved a decent send off.
Well, except maybe Negaduck. But that's different.
After the trial, Louis seems to have disappeared back into his room. After a few hours, though, a messy, handwritten note is shoved under everyone's door.]
(EARLY) MARDI GRAS PARTY
-JAZZ
-DRINKS AND FOOD
-FUN AND FRIENDS
[He neglected to put the location down on the invite, but one can follow the sound of Louis's trumpet into the dining room. The place has been draped with colorful, half-finished banners--gold, purple, and green. Further down the table, a few bottles of alcohol and fruit juice have been neatly lined up next to a stack of paper cups. There's also a pasta bar set up, with individual bowls of spaghetti, pasta sauce, and Parmesan cheese. Hardly Mardi Gras food, but it's the only thing Louis knows how to make. At least there's also a plate of beignets.
Standing at the back of the room is Louis, playing trumpet like his life depends on it. His repertoire for tonight? The songs he's heard while watching humans parade through New Orleans on Mardi Gras. Songs about being carefree, about forgetting your worries, about enjoying life while it lasts.
Louis doesn't seem particularly interested in talking right now. He's not going to let people mope tonight. They deserved a good fucking party after everything, dammit, and they were going to get one.]
Never mind that. Everyone else was probably hurting just as bad as he was. Last week, Kim had told Louis that he shouldn't be alone while he was sad--that sympathy probably extended to everyone else. He had to do something to help. The dead deserved a decent send off.
Well, except maybe Negaduck. But that's different.
After the trial, Louis seems to have disappeared back into his room. After a few hours, though, a messy, handwritten note is shoved under everyone's door.]
(EARLY) MARDI GRAS PARTY
-JAZZ
-DRINKS AND FOOD
-FUN AND FRIENDS
[He neglected to put the location down on the invite, but one can follow the sound of Louis's trumpet into the dining room. The place has been draped with colorful, half-finished banners--gold, purple, and green. Further down the table, a few bottles of alcohol and fruit juice have been neatly lined up next to a stack of paper cups. There's also a pasta bar set up, with individual bowls of spaghetti, pasta sauce, and Parmesan cheese. Hardly Mardi Gras food, but it's the only thing Louis knows how to make. At least there's also a plate of beignets.
Standing at the back of the room is Louis, playing trumpet like his life depends on it. His repertoire for tonight? The songs he's heard while watching humans parade through New Orleans on Mardi Gras. Songs about being carefree, about forgetting your worries, about enjoying life while it lasts.
Louis doesn't seem particularly interested in talking right now. He's not going to let people mope tonight. They deserved a good fucking party after everything, dammit, and they were going to get one.]
no subject
Good. Then I don't have to give you a dressing down.
[She steps into the room proper and cocks her head at him.]
Are you okay? That aside.
no subject
N-naah.
[Alright he's honest, but are any of them really okay after that mess? If she's referring to his personal injuries, he'll wave it off like it's nothing. Just a routine change.]
no subject
Me, either. It's—I think we're all learning that. That sometimes you're just...not okay.
no subject
It's hard. Don't know how long until this all gets better, somehow.
no subject
Who's to say? All I know is, there's no way this pattern can hold forever. After all, the previous 'rituals' all ended at some point. The same has to be true in our case.
no subject
[It's wishful thinking but after all that, surely everyone including Randall needs a break. It was a Lot.]
no subject
[Leia sighs, sinking heavily onto a nearby cot.]
The best we can do until then is play this sick game by the rules. No more wild cards, unless we have a clear opening to make a real difference.