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....

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[By the time Fidds finds him, he's sitting down and steadily working his way through a plate of kugel (albeit at an almost glacial pace, he's still kind of low-key nauseous from the way that if he doesn't focus completely the room starts spinning).]

Mm. I didn't want everyone to keep worrying about me.

[He pushes what's left all to the center of his plate.]

It feels like I got kicked in the head by a cart horse, but I'll be alright.

Hope the music doesn't bother you none.

[He can't imagine it would (who wouldn't love the dulcet plunks of a banjo?) but the polite part of him has to ask all the same. He can tone it down if you need it, friend, you're the one with the potential (probable) concussion.]

Not at all. I think we all could use some music.

[Anyway if it gets to be too much, he can always go back to his room.]

I figure... if we're down to just one banjo then I've got to be playin' for two, right?

[This is something he can do. It's not a fix for the problem. Nothing can fix Wander and Sylvia being gone (and god, isn't it weird to think that a month ago he was terrified of both of them?). But he can at least honor Wander's memory in a way he would have liked. That's better than nothing.]

I think they'd have liked that better'n me mopin' about it.

I agree. It sounds like what Wander would have wanted. Next time hopefully I'll feel up to singing with you.

[He still feels guilty that he couldn't...save them.

But he notices the way the collar of Fidds' shirt has been tugged down, and the subject is immediately changed. He recognizes that kind of bruising (Gaston used to leave them on him, all over, used to like to dig his fingers into them and watch Lefou try to explain them to anyone who saw).

]

Congratulations, by the way.

[He hasn't realized that his collar and the banjo strap that pulled it down have betrayed him, so that look takes him completely aback.]

On... on what?

[On getting his banjo back? I mean yes, he's over the moon about that, but...?]

[

]

On your...

[He taps his own collar to notice.]

Looks like somebody had a good time.

[Whhhhhhhhhhhhoh no]

Oh -- oh no that's just --

[He's a really bad liar oh lord help him he's a really bad liar and he didn't have one ready]

My -- my banjo strap. Y'know, I haven't worn it in a while so it, ah, it left a...

[mm boi]

[Lefou actually manages to laugh, at that, and then gives Fidds a knowing wink.]

Oh, is that the new term for "wrestling?"

[He is going to die. A body has been discovered. He claps a hand over his neck like he's trying to kill a particularly ornery mosquito, which is a little at odds with the idea that the mark there is totally innocuous and not worth caring about but look he's a really bad liar]

I don't -- I don't know what you're talkin' about.

[YEAH JUST FEIGN IGNORANCE THAT'LL WORK THAT'LL TOTALLY WORK]

[Oh don't die on him now this is the most fun he's had all day.]

Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.

[THIS IS NOT FUN A MAN IS DYING]

O-oh.

[He lets his hand drop, defeated, and glances around to be very sure nobody's been listening in.

... Jesus who does Lefou even think gave it to him. Are they that obvious? They can't be. Well. He's been trying not to be, he can't speak for Ford 'I'm going to boop your nose in public' Pines. God dammit.]

I'd -- I'd appreciate that, yeah.

[Grumble.]

I said it was goin' to leave a mark...

[The shift in mood gets him concerned, and the grin fades from his face.]

Of course.

[Well. Now it's awkward.]

[Aw well dang now he feels bad. It was good to see Lefou smiling. He meant it well, probably. Probably? Fiddleford would expect teasing, and not necessarily the good kind, but that hadn't seemed like it was meant that way.]

It's not -- I mean I'm not ashamed exactly, I just --

I'm just gettin' used to it. That's all. Didn't think I'd have anyone noticin' so soon.

[A wry little smirk.]

Then you may want to pin your collar together for a few days.

You could always try telling him not to leave it so high next time. F- um. [Who the fuck else would it be?] Yeah, well, anyway, I bet he'll listen to you, if you really don't like it.

[He sounds like he's speaking from experience with somebody who didn't.]

[Oh hell he got diddly-darn found out. The way his expression twitches, just a little, when Lefou starts that F-name pretty much confirms it.

God he is such a bad liar, why did he even think keeping this quiet was going to work?]

It's not really built to... to go that high. My collar. And I mean it's not that I don't like--

[He is just going to sit down so they can have this conversation Quietly and Discreetly and maybe he will die less.]

Nobody else seems to think this is as big a deal as it feels like it ought to be.

[WHO THE HELL ELSE COULD IT BE, FIDDS. IT WEREN'T MAUI AND IT WEREN'T LEFOU.

He scoots over so that Fidds can sit next to him.]

...Well, I'm. "That way."

[You know, a "wrestler."]

It's... in my time, it's a crime, but nobody really cares if you don't. Say it.

Ford told me things are different in the future. It was...honestly, the only thing anyone's said that made me rethink going home.

[I mean, other than this whole thing with Maui but hand to god that's so new and fragile right now he's not even thinking in the long term of "where are we going when we leave here"]

[Yeah, he. Kind of guessed? But it was never relevant to him until just now so there was never a reason to bring it up or even think too much about it. As a fairly-private man himself (there's a reason he tried to keep this quiet) it just wasn't in his nature to consider it his business.]

He's from thirty years after me. I -- when I'm from, it's still illegal in a lot of places. And even where it's not you don't talk about it. Most folks don't care when it's not ... y'know. When it's not right in front of them. But when it is...

[He can't believe he is having this conversation now, here, with a man who had a concussion for most of today. Jesus Christ. What has his life become.]

I'm just used to thinkin' of it as a far-off thing, y'know. Not somethin' on my neck.

... We can. We can not talk about this now. If it's not-- ?

[Is he oversharing. Is he making this man who's already been through so much uncomfortable. God dammit. He's such a mess.]

[Hey this man who had a concussion for most of today also just got a boyfriend(?????????????????????????) so it's on his mind anyway.]

I'm sorry- If you want to stop, we don't have to, but uh. If you want to talk about it you can- trust me.

I, uh. I know a thing or two about... discretion.

[He's not unwilling to talk about it, but if Fidds doesn't want to keep talking about it then he doesn't want to make the other man uncomfortable.]

[They are both trying so hard to be Thoughtful here.]

No, no, I -- I just thought it might not be a good time is all but if you don't mind -- I mean I'm goin' to have to talk it out eventually more'n likely. We're in such closer quarters bein' discreet probably won't work for too long anyway. I mean it's barely workin' now.

[Haha ha. Ha.]

Don't even know what I'm worried about exactly.

[He leans back against the back of his seat and just listens, waiting until Fidds reaches the end of his rambling.]

...Getting hurt?

... Yeah.

Losin' him.

[The more real it is -- and more people knowing will make it infinitely more real -- the more it's going to hurt if Ford dies. And that's a reality he has to be very ready for here even if so much of his time now is spent telling himself it will be fine, they'll live, they'll live. Hope for the best but prepare for the worst.

Aside from the general residual discomfort that his time period and cultural upbringing has instilled in him (and the more he thinks about this logically the less either of them bother him), he has to deal with the fear of giving himself over to someone again and then losing them. He's already felt that once and it sucks.]

...

[He thinks about the cold knot of fear that he'd felt when Maui admitted he might be in trouble. Even then, before this...whatever they had had come to a head, the thought of losing him - the thought that he could have lost him and not been any the wiser until it was too late...]

Yeah. I can see that.

[But even that thought, that fear, was only so cold because of how much warmth there was around it. The thought of losing anyone here that he called a friend, the more it hurt meant the more that they'd shared.

Ugh, he's not good with words even when his brain IS working at 100%, this is going to be hard.]

But it's... worth it, too, isn't it? It... The thought hurts so much because there's so much good that we, um, that we can remember. Like the dance.

[Bitch he has eyes.]

...It hurts because we already care.

[Excuse you, that was a very platonic friend dance and who is he kidding here.]

Right... right. It's just --

I just got off a. A real bad divorce. And I haven't... I mean I know she doesn't want me and she's never goin' to want me again [and oh boy this sure is the first time he's said anything like that so plainly but it's out of his mouth now so here we fucking go] but it still feels a little like... a little like cheatin'.

Which is stupid. I know it is.

[It's easy to accept theoretically that he likes both men and women. It's... unusual, but he can logic it out just fine. Ultimately there's no difference. That's not the issue. The issue is he still loves a woman and he doesn't know if he's ever not going to and those feelings are making things a lot more complicated than they would be if it was just all his tumultuous feelings for Ford that he had to sort through.]

[There's clearly a lot of emotion there, and he can absolutely relate to what's there and unpack it even though he doesn't know what a divorce is.

...But also.]

You're... um, married?

all that glitters is gold [AFTERPARTY]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

every time i get to use this icon an angel gets its wings

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)