foolishmortals | all that glitters is gold [AFTERPARTY]

Entry tags:

round 1,
week 4

all that glitters is gold [AFTERPARTY]

[It's been a very long, and very upsetting morning, and honestly, Ford is feeling goddamn drained. All the events of the day have hit him like a ton of bricks. And as much as he wants nothing more than to sleep for about a week...well. There's work to do.

After talking it over with Fiddleford, his first mission is hitting the kitchen and scraping together all the eggs, potatoes, and onions he can find. It takes him a good few hours, but eventually he's got five big casserole dishes full of kugel, steaming hot, fresh out of the oven. He stacks up a big pile of plates, forks, and serving utensils and carries it all into the lounge in trips.

Next is the business of the still. Between the two of them, the two Fords manage to get it into the lounge and set it up on a table where it's easy to access. Ford also pilfers a big glass jug of apple juice for the kids and puts it nearby. All the adults are free to partake of a cup of Fiddleford's sugar shine. They'll be needing it, tonight.

Lastly, are the notes. Ford writes them all out in his neat, block lettering, and slips one under each door—pausing at the doors of the deceased with a sad frown each time.

The lounge is quiet while they wait for everyone to arrive, save for the sounds of banjo music....

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[Wendy doesn't stop running out of the trial until she's in the hallway near her room, where she simply slows down. The morning was bad, things had just gotten worse with time until now when things seemed even worse then they've been.

But she doesn't stay there for long, she doesn't want to. So, the note slid under her door is answered almost immediately.

She wanders into the lounge, looking almost like she's in a daze, quietly scanning the crowd before she heads over to the memorials first. She finds some space near the others and sets down Wander's phone, and his hat. She'd make something for Sylvia, but she didn't wear clothes.]

...Hope you're doing alright together, wherever you are.

[That's the most she can manage. Whenever she decides to get up again, Wendy heads back to the lounge with a cup in hand. She knows the apple juice is left out for the younger crowd, but in times like this who is going to enforce the rules?

So she grabs a small plate of food, and some of that freakin alcohol before wandering off to plop down in one of the corners and just try to relax for the first time today. Though she's still definitely open to anyone who comes by.]

[~~I landed heads~~ Jiminy is not doing so great, having been a day of despair and terror. But then he fell into a cup of liquor and now he's feeling great.

Tripping over himself as he walks to Wendy, but great.]

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeendddddddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

[....This is going to be something.

The day was chock full of despair and terror, and Wendy had an inclination that tomorrow wouldn't be much better. And yet this probably the thing she's most worried about right now.]

Uh, heeey there, Jiminy. [She runs her finger over the rim of her glass.] How's it hanging?

[He waves his hand around aimlessly.]

I'm fiiiine, just fiiiine. How- hey, you know how about- like I never ask- how about you?

Because I think today was not so good maybe?

[....Goodness. She can barely fight off the smirk on her face.]

Oh no, it was just about the worst. But at least we're all safe right now.

[She sounds... very honest, actually.] Man, things did not go well today.

It was kind of weird... Like, it was.... weird. Did you notice today was weird?

Good. You stay safe.

[A small chuckle hits her. Maybe it's the alcohol she's sipping. Maybe it's the fact that other people are getting drunk, like this so-called Conscience. Either way, Wendy's fairly amused.]

Thanks. Yeah, you might have mentioned it, once or twice. I'd say that today was pretty freaky myself. In... a lot of ways.

Extremely freaky. Like, there was a guy there we don't know and then he died and then a ghost died and then it wasn't a great big tomorrow roundabout.

[That last part probably means "where was the Carousal of Progress"]

You-You should stay away from the freaky. No more freaky things for you.

...Hey yeah, no one sang for once.

[She sipped her cup mindfully.] I'm actually... really thankful for that. Dang, that got so annoying after only two times.

[But then the meat of the matter hits.] But now the ghost host dude is dead, and that other fat guy too. Too bad we couldn't get any answers from him.

Yeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh. I'm getting real confused at all these.... people doing.... things. Answers would be nice.

Where's Taaaaaaaaaaaaarzan? He got turned into a fat brit, he should be not a fat brit and be a big jungle man resting after a long day.

Dude, I know, right? Answers would be great right about now. Except we're just stuck here, and no one is telling us anything.

[And now, they lost the one ghost that actually seemed to want to help them. Sucks.]

...Hey, yeah. You and Tarzan were like, [she searches for the right word...] friends? Right?

Yeah! Besties! [He reconsiders.] No, Pinoc's my bestie. Buuuut Tarzan's up there. He's a good.

[Pfffff. Bestie. Never did she suspect a word like that from him.]

Wow man, you're like, really drunk right now, aren't you?

[A prolonged gasp.]

No! No I don't drink! Drinkin's for... bad! An-An' I gotta do... the good stuff. Gotta be a good rolllllll model.

Sure, dude. Whatever.

[And she takes a drink of her cup that very clearly smells like the alcohol they're serving here. Phew, it kind of stings.]

You know me, I can keep a secret.

That's true. Yer good at secrets.

[He's a little too soaked in alcohol himself to know quite yet. Hesits down slowly next to her.]

...Pssssssssssst. Weennnnndddyyyyyy.

[She's not drunk enough yet for this, is she?

She kind of acknowledges him with a nod when he dies down, leaning down just slightly.]

...Yeah?

I think I know a seeeeeeeeeecret.

[So much stage whispering]

[She props her head on her hand, like this is oh so special. Which might be the booze talking.]

A secret, huh? What? Like, another one?

Yeah! I figured it out with caaaaaaareful observation.

Oookay. [Another sip. She feels like she might need this.]

Well, if you want, you can lay that secret on me. I won't tell a soul.

[He leans in close to reveal his Dramatic Secret.]

I think Ford.

Might be into fellas.

[....siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip]

No way.

[There is no surprise in her voice.]

[He nods ethusiastically.]

But don't tell Frenchie. They're weird about that sorta thing. He wouldn't understand.

[Nods slowly.]

Yeaaaah. Hey, can I tell you a secret?

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