Open | The Epicurians Present: The 1st of September Beach Bash!

[bleatingedge]

Who ► Leo & Anyone that wishes to join!
What ► BEACH PARTY!!
When ► September 1st
Where ► Δ Haggard Traveler's Reprieve
Content Warnings ► People will be drunk. Will add to if needed

[The time has come... for fun! Δ Haggard Traveler's Reprieve has been decorated with all the niceties that a beach party requires - docks for fishing, large umbrellas to hide from the sun, several tables with sets of chairs for sitting and conversing, and the most obvious addition: a massive roaring bonfire with a big cooking mesh over the top of it for barbecue cookin'!

Leo's wearing a fishing hat and aviators alongside his trademark loincloth-and-nothing-else getup for maximum dissonance. From his position on the other side of the bonfire, he waves a hand at those arriving.]

Welcome to the Beach Bash! Snacks and drinks are on the tables, bottles of sunscreen and crafting tables are under the umbrellas, and complementary fishing gear are at the docks for your convenience. Have fun, friends~

[Emperor Grunty is also here, should you wish to annoy him! He's currently laying in the sand with a reflector. What? Grunties need their sun too!]

Comments

[gluttoning]

Heheh. Yael will take me to a steak dinner later if I do well.

[Food. :)]

Yeah. My training takes up a lot of time. [More time than it should. He knows he'll be pushed to rest more after the game. He knows he won't listen.] Some of my brothers are gonna be in town, though. And I'll get to see you, and some others, too.

That's a good enough reward for me.

[tablescraps]

... That doesn't sound bad.

( It doesn't. Barrett has a lot of people around him who love him. That's a good thing, Mithrun thinks - someone like him needs people around him, is his impression. )

Are you friends with Yael?

[gluttoning]

I want to be. He used to play football, too, but can't anymore.

[He still feels very bad about the whole situation... but he lets it sit and then fade. If he let himself get depressed, Yael would come kick his ass and then never speak to him again.]

He's kind of a grumpy person. But I still want to hear what he thinks of my playing.

[tablescraps]

( Hmm. Logging that piece of trivia. )

He gives good advice. ( That he probably doesn't even follow himself!!! ) He's sharp, but honest. I prefer that to someone trying to be nice about a problem.

[gluttoning]

Yeah. Sometimes tough love is better for learning things.

[He pauses, regarding Morgan for a second at his side.]

Do you want me to be tougher? To you?

[tablescraps]

... Are you honest with me?

[gluttoning]

Yeah. I try to be.

[He knows he has some things he downplays that he needs to work on, though.]

[tablescraps]

... Then that's enough for me.

( Settles a little better into where he is. )

You don't really have to be any different than who you are.

[gluttoning]

...

Thanks, Morgan.

[It's nice, to feel the weight of him. Cozy.

...

A beat, as he looks closer at the fire. He's been. Distracted.]

...What were you doing with all these fish, anyway?

[tablescraps]

( That's a nice smile. )

Eat them, most likely - just to see if they have any effect despite being placeholder fish. Normal fish, when eaten raw, restore 1 HP - cooked fish restore more.

[gluttoning]

Can you overcook them? They've been in there a while.

[Poor fish. Levi screams in despair somewhere.]

[tablescraps]

( Oh.

... Mithrun starts to reach directly to grab one of the hot fish with his hands, )

[gluttoning]

[Ah.

Gently just reaching to put his hand on his arm, shaking his head.]

Morgan. That's fire.

Do you have anything like a stick or weapon in your inventory?

[tablescraps]

( He pauses his reach. He does know it's fire, but his instinctive response was that he didn't really care about the burns, so,

But he recalls maybe he should be avoiding it. So hmm.

After a few moments he equips his stupid big broad claymore. )

... I can't spear it with this, but I can scrape it closer.

[gluttoning]

That works. You can use my weapon to spear it after, if you need it.

[His own spear is produced, pearly white and guilded with lilies.

squinting at dat metal tho]

...It has words.

[tablescraps]

( His gaze lingers on the lillies before he turns to the fish, using his claymore to scrape the fish off the bonfire - and into the sand.

He glances back at Barrett when he mentions the inscription. )

... Yes. They're things my brother has said to me, most recent to least.

( He fixes the sword upright into the sand, broad side of the sword toward Barrett so the text is visible, should Barrett feel inclined to look at it. It's apparent Mithrun doesn't regard it as a secret; he wouldn't be so forthcoming in this specific way - putting the sword on display - with most, but he doesn't mind with Barrett. )

I think I told you he doesn't talk to me anymore, right? This is just a timeline leading up to that.

[gluttoning]

[He stays quiet as his eyes travel the sword. The language towards the bottom, even the middle of the sword -- it's all familiar, all brotherly. All phrases he knows. All signs of affection and concern that he'd probably say to his own brothers.

It's as they cumulate to a tense end that he finds himself at a little of a loss.

His fingers graze near some of the more intense statements. Blaming, filled with hurt.]

...Who was she?

[This third person. This one that his brother felt so hurt about. This one that he was being blamed about killing.]

[tablescraps]

( Mithrun had shown Barrett, and he understood this might become a conversation topic, and yet - when Barrett finally asks, Mithrun does not answer immediately.

He reaches his hand out for the spear so he might use it to gather the fish up. )

... Niamh. We both were in love with her. But she chose to marry my brother.

It was my fault, though. So he isn't wrong to be upset with me.

[gluttoning]

[His fault?

...

He looks back over the statements. Of pain and betrayal and grief, begging and pleading and pointing fingers, from the mouth of a brother who loved him. He finds so many that he's worried, every day, to hear from Booker. He finds so many he's heard already from someone he doesn't want to think about.

...]

He loved you, too. [He hands over his own spear with one hand while his other traces back down. To kinder words. Lost behind hurt and guilt.]

...What happened?

[tablescraps]

( Feelings change, is what his expression seems to suggest. Maybe once, his brother cared for him, but Mithrun missed that chance - like he missed out on all other things. He was gone for too long. He made poor choices. And this was the consequence. It was the first time he'd recognized the way his actions hurt others, instead of just him.

The question, though, leaves him quiet - did he want to hide the truth from Barrett? He knows he shouldn't tell him, but he's struggling with his lack of desire to hide. But - necessarily, there must be some things he can't say if he wants to get by, right? It's a mechanical thought process, not one motivated by a need to keep secrets, despite knowing he should. )

... I remember being hurt she fell in love with my brother, when she'd always said I was special to her.

( Niamh had confided in him the way she didn't anyone else, she said; his brother was so unworthy of her; but if that was true, what did that make Morgan, who was so much less? - all sentiments that echo from the memory Barrett had seen from Mithrun, once.

His finger brush along the lillies briefly before he takes up the spear. )

... I wanted to convince her to be with me. ( And that's when the Professor slid in, as Mithrun said once. ) He convinced me to do things... that ultimately caused her death, in the end.

( He skewers a fish and offers it to Barrett, it's (probably a bit burnt) skin cooling down now that it's had it's time in the sand. )

I didn't pull the trigger. But I could have prevented it; and if I weren't there, it wouldn't have happened.

[gluttoning]

[The heartbreak... Barrett remembers it from their talk at the Onsen, the memory at the carnival. The feelings of jealousy and self-belittling.

...]

It sounds like you blame yourself, more than you blame him.

[He can't imagine how much this twists whatever hate Morgan must have deep down for this professor of his. But Barrett didn't much care for a man that probably deserved to be forgotten.]

...What do you think you would have done different? If you could go back?

[tablescraps]

( ... )

Everything I made was my choice, in the end. No matter how much I may have been manipulated or influenced... No matter the circumstance, I chose to do as I did. I can't go back. But if I could have chosen different...

( His gaze drifts from Barrett, to the fire, then, slowly, to the sea.

The waves aren't bad. )

... Before him, before Niamh; before my brother and my family... I think I would have accepted that it doesn't matter what people think of me; if they love me, or hate me, or forgive me.

You only have yourself and the choices you make. I understand that now. So, I don't need to go back.

( It's both a position of self-acceptance and - self-denial. Enlightened and self-focused; nihilistic and content. It doesn't matter if others approve of him, it doesn't matter if someone doesn't love him when he loves them. Pain passes, people come in and out of your life, and you need to accept what you are - that you only are what you are, whatever you may be, because you will always have yourself as company. You need to make peace with that.

It's just that he's gone and made peace with what he is, yes, but he's accepted that its value amounts to something worth losing in his vengeance. It came up short in his calculations of worth - and that's okay. He accepts it can't change, won't change. So away it goes. )

[gluttoning]

...

I think it would make you a stronger person, to be able to do things like that. But...

[He chews on the response, unsure how to word it. It's all a very smart answer. An answer that Morgan has clearly had time to think about and try to cope with. But there's still an empty hole - despite the self-centric language, it feels so absent of substance for himself. Destructive and hateful.]

I guess I'd be worried. That you don't have any love for yourself anymore, if you don't think it matters.

[tablescraps]

( He pauses, like that's the first time he'd ever really thought about it, or considered it in relation to himself. )

Do I really need love for myself?

( He isn't sure if he does. )

[gluttoning]

Eventually. When you can accept it, anyway. [A firm nod as he starts to pull apart the charred fish against the sand.]

I think too much can make people jerks. But if you don't have any at all, it can be worse.

You can't get any better if you don't love yourself enough to want something better. I don't think so, anyway