sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

WHERE: Corn field next to the inn
WHEN: 31 October, all day and night
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn as appropriate in your subject lines
NOTES: Please make sure you have read and understand the event details! If you have questions, drop them here. RECOMMENDED BUT NOT REQUIRED: Put your SCRUBS COLOR in your OTA subject line for folks doing bingo. Time your OTA for the harvest feast, the masquerade, or both. Costume matches and details for folks who did not get matched are here.

This morning, our intrepid villagers awoke to a surprise of the nicer kind: A bundle of clothing left at the foot of their bed, tied with a bow. There is also a note: Put on your new outfit and join the festivities in the corn field next to the inn.

You may be thinking, what corn field next to the inn? The one that sprung up fully-mature overnight, of course.

In the middle of the field, villagers will find an autumn feast: Tables piled with harvest time food and drink, warm and rustic decorations, the day's sunshine fending off any chill in the air.

Tuck in and enjoy, villagers, but take note: Things often look different in the dark, and you might be one of them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Which is a delightful way to put it off on others we can't see, talk to, or blame," he says, rolling his eyes. "Like all the religious babble over the years, but without the onus of following a doctrine. At least not one that we know."

He chuckles then, considering her a moment. "So there is really medical staff and not just white coats and leeches? With the way most of this place is, I was beginning to wonder."

Which isn't exactly playing nice, but given he's seen it done, he can't exactly believe it might not be part of whatever this is.

Beverly's eyebrows arch at that particular response. Sure, to some people it might seem like playing the blame game or assigning some ghostly figure or name to something that might not actually exist. Some might liken it to religion. For Beverly, at least, the specific notes and the gift boxes point to someone having a hand in things. Whether that's benevolent or malicious hand... well, she isn't convinced it's not both.

"Whatever you want to believe," she answers evenly, deciding that she doesn't really want to have that argument today. It's better to focus on the rest of it.

"No. No leeches." Her answer is firm here. Even if there were leeches being used before she got there, she would have put her foot down about it and she has a feeling Helen would have, too. "My scrubs color might be white, but there aren't any medical or science lab coats floating around that I've seen. Just people doing our best to help others survive."

"I'm not saying it's the people here," he points out, realizing how he sounded. Not that he entirely is willing to not be the man he is, but alienating everyone is a poor choice. Just maybe some. "I mean those behind this, just giving it a nebulous name to deflect us."

Which is nicer than how he'd made it sound about others. "But you're right. It's down to what we believe."

"In my day," he says, laughing softly just at how that sounds. "It was snake oil and terror. I know it's changed since then, but some images you get are hard to brush away." And more so since he hasn't needed a doctor since those days, so the last that ever laid hands on him or someone he knew had been not only of their time, but small town middle of nowhere best they could get doctors to boot.

"I didn't think you were. Regardless of what or who may or may not be actually at the helm of all of this, we're here and we may as well at least try to help each other survive." Really, what's the point in fighting among themselves when none of them are really capable of orchestrating everything that has happened to them?

"I can imagine," she assures him. "Most people here seem to be from much farther into the past than I am, if they are familiar with planet Earth at all. What we have now is ancient history to me, so I can assure you we won't be using anything so barbaric."

Bobo has had the advantage of living out the intervening years, where as many see the year of his birth as ancient history. Yet that is most he's spoken to, so for her to speak out that time, the time he knows as modern, as ancient history, gives him pause.

"What year was that for you?"

It hasn't really been all that long since she and Jean-Luc sort of threw the Prime Directive out the metaphorical airlock so admitting this sort of thing is still not easy. She still fully expects a court martial when she gets home. "By Earth standards it was 2373. What about you?"

"And they think I'm ancient history," he scoffs with a laugh, shaking his head. "And to you, all of them are. When I came here, it was 2016," he admits, pausing and considering how much to say. Then, he just can't help himself. "It was in the late eighteen hundreds when I was born."

"It's a little different being from so far into everyone's future," she agrees, her lips curled a bit wryly. So much of history was lost during World War III anyway that sometimes she really doesn't know what people are talking about. They still have some pieces of history and certainly great works like Shakespeare weren't lost. But she has learned a lot since arriving here anyway.

His age, though, makes her think a little bit of Helen. And, of course, the Vulcans. So she isn't as shocked as he might expect. "You've seen more of history than most humans. Several non-Terran species live extended lives. Or it's extended to us humans." She won't ask about his heritage. That would be rude. It does make her wonder, though. After all, Guinan was on Earth at about that time, too.

"Do we finally get flying cars and intermingling of species or is it still pulp fiction like so much from my youth still is?" So many advances, but not nearly as many as they imagined and wrote about.

"I have. Two lifetimes in time and in the man I've been," he admits, nodding. "Terrans earth, right? I like that. Some still from there manage it, just through probably less scientific means than most would think. In my case, a curse."

"There's definitely an intermingling of species. You don't have to worry about that," Beverly answers with a wry twist of her lips. Her mind lands on Deanna, daughter of a human and a Betazoid, and then Odan, a Trill who had romanced Beverly once upon a time. And of course the well-known Ambassador Spock, son of a human and a Vulcan. There's an almost impressive amount of intermingling. "Humanity has come a long way since the 19th century. We still have a ways to go, but at least intermingling is something we can do."

She doesn't comment on the longevity, knowing that there are likely good points and bad ones to living that long. He'd give a Vulcan a run for their money, though. "Maybe one day you'll be able to see it all for yourself," she points out kindly. "Assuming you'd want to after all that time."

"Why is that not surprising?" Chuckling at that, wry but amused. Or perhaps it's all about being cynical. Mankind found ways, but sometimes they all just came back to the most carnal of moments. A future beyond even his lifetime doesn't change that.

Though that comment, he can't help but to laugh. "I would, though I'm here now so who knows what I can expect from that. So far though, despite it setting us back in a lot of ways? I'm seeing interesting things here."

[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

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