introductory mingle: MEMORIA

[riverviewmod]

who: everyone in Riverview!
what: Introductory Log and Memoria Commemoration
when: May 1st - May 8th
where: Anywhere around the city.
warnings: please put any necessary warnings in the subject lines

memoria

In the days leading up to May 1st, residents new and old will notice preparations beginning, a flurry of activity getting the city ready for the upcoming celebration: Memoria. A more solemn celebration than Sampremi or the Flower Festival, Memoria is a week-long time of remembrance for those lost in the Great War and the epidemic that decimated Riverview Quarantine's population 10 years ago. Memoria traditions include lighting lanterns for the dead, telling stories about lost loved ones or lost homes, eating meals with loved ones, and a special gathering to send floating lanterns down the river in honor of those lost.

a solemn commemoration of those lost

While the main city-wide event associated with Memoria is the floating of lanterns down the river on the evening of May 8th, the holiday is generally seen as a time of reflection on and appreciation of things that have been lost - people, homes, cultures, and planets. It is also a celebration of the things that remain. Many locally-owned shops will host displays of culturally-significant food, and will hand out informational flyers sharing the unique customs of their own homeworlds. There is a heavy emphasis on sharing time with family, friends, and lovers, and anyone who is able to will cook meals or treats for loved ones, or at least purchase them something good to eat.

i. hanging lanterns

Throughout the entire week of Memoria, residents will be hanging lanterns around the city. Lanterns are generally placed in greater number in places of passage - streets, bridges, and all alongside the train lines are particularly well-decorated, as are any trees alongside paths, and most homes and businesses have a profusion of lanterns around their doors and windows. This tradition is twofold; some people believe that the lanterns are hung in these places in order to guide the spirits of the dead back to those who still love them, other people believe that the lanterns are to give light for living loved ones to find their doors in times of darkness...many people believe both.

No matter what your character might believe, you can be sure they will find themselves offered a lantern for free from various businesses or friendly citizens passing by, and invited to hang it before the sun sets, or they may be handed a bundle of lanterns and asked to help share them with others.

ii. sharing life

Throughout the city, characters will find groups of people gathering to share hot drinks and talk about their loved ones lost, their homes and planets, or their experiences during the Great War and the epidemic. Anyone who has lost someone, who has fought to survive, who is feeling cut off and homesick, is welcome to sit and share their story. If your character chooses to sit and to share their story, they will find that people will gather to listen, will generally be respectful of the telling, and may share their own similar experiences in return. This is an excellent time to air grief in an environment where most people understand and respect grief, and a good time to deepen the connections to others around you, to understand them better.

There is also a very large focus on cooking or purchasing meals or treats for loved ones during Memoria, with many people taking meals with everyone they care about during the week of the holiday. Some go the extra mile and will hand out baked goods (usually chocolate or cinnamon), packets of candy, or other little treats to acquaintances, especially if they would like to form a closer bond with them. This is a great time for characters to reach out to someone they would like to get to know better with a surprise treat!

iii. floating of the lanterns

On the evening of May 8th, just before sundown, many of the city's residents will head toward the banks of the river, where they will light lanterns in a wide variety of shapes, sizes, and colors, in honor of their dead loved ones. The types of lanterns vary wildly, based on personality (either of the person floating it or the person they are honoring), culture, and many other factors. Some lanterns are very simple, others are incredibly complex, but the one common feature they all have is that people write on the shades of them - they write about their feelings for their loved ones, their wishes for their relationships and friendships, a memory from childhood or home, or even just lines of poetry or lyrics from songs that express something they miss, or something that hurts them.

Once those emotions are written on the lanterns, the lanterns are set free, floating down the river in the darkening evening, in a cathartic gesture shared by most residents of the city. Waves of lantern floating will start around 7 pm and continue until the sun rises on the morning of May 9th.

iv. roommates or wildcard

Feel free to use this prompt to set up headers for a communal floor, or threads open to roommates for the purpose of getting to know each other. Or if you have an idea for a prompt that isn't in this list, set during Memoria, feel free to write it up!

visual inspiration

click on thumbnails for larger view

Credit: image i: glowconcepts, image ii: by trenchmaker, image iv: cherryorange; image iii: found uncredited on Pinterest - please let the mod know if you find credit!

navigation

Comments

Damen | OTA

[goldcuffed]

[i. Hanging Lanterns]
[Lanterns. They're really quite pretty, the way they line the streets and shops outside, and the people of Riverview were all too happy to tell him about their customs. It seems like a nice thought, hanging lanterns to guide the spirits of the dead to find their homes and families again. He doesn't think the spirits of his own lost loved ones are here, but he wants to participate anyway.

He wants to hang a pair outside his and Laurent's window, he decides, but they must be special. Which is why, after acquiring a lantern from someone passing them out, Damen can be found wandering the shopping district, looking for florists' shops. He stops someone with a sheepish smile and holds up a picture of some small, cone-like flowers in poofy clusters.] Do you know much about flowers? I'm looking for some that look like this. They were my mother's favorite.

[ii. Sharing Life]
[Damen joins one of the circles in the park on his way home from a photoshoot, still wearing the designer athletic gear he had been modeling, lightly sweaty. He listens quietly for a while, until he's prompted to share his own thoughts.

The expression on his face, normally so quick to smile, is a little sad, a little lost. It is difficult to share his grief, but it comes so easily to everyone else... He starts to speak, more subdued, a little halting, as if he isn't sure how to put words to feelings.] I've been thinking about my father and my brother a lot, lately. My father in particular. You know, I- I thought, for just a little while, that I was going to be a father myself soon, but... It only made me think of him instead.

I wonder what he would say, if he could see me now.

[iii. Floating Lanterns]
[Sitting cross-legged beside the water, the towering man hunches small over a simple lantern. He has a bit of glue, some paint and brushes, and sprigs of flowers that look similar to myrtle and orange blossom. Damen's large fingers work carefully, gluing delicate blossoms to the white sides of his lantern, on which is written - well, it's likely it's a name, but the Akielon script looks closer to Greek than any western alphabet.

Damen is floating three lanterns that night, though two of them are much more plain, bearing names and a couple of sentences. The one he's working on has only a name, Egeria, but he covers it with flowers. Holding down a white bloom with one hand, he reaches blindly for the glue again, and when he doesn't find it, he asks the nearest person.] Excuse me, could you pass me the glue?

[iv. Floor 7, Shared Balcony]
[The city is strange and beautiful at night, with lanterns lining the streets and walkways, a sea of little lights in the darkness. Damen likes to sit on the balcony sometimes, get some air and look out over his temporary home. It's getting warmer, and tonight, he's leaning against the railing in just a pair of loose, comfortable sweatpants, his feet and torso un-self-consciously bare.

His back is on full display to anyone who might join him on the balcony. He can almost forget the scars are there, sometimes, numerous criss-crossed lines of gnarled tissue striping the entirety of his back. Scarring this extensive can only mean he was nearly flayed to death at one point, though they've healed nicely, and barely pull or ache anymore.

When Damen hears someone else pad onto the deck, he turns to offer a smile.] Good evening. I don't think I've gotten to meet any of our neighbors yet.

[v. Wildcard]

i

[howlongiwonder]

I observed many varieties of flowers while moving around.

[2B sounds confident in that statement while she looks at the picture carefully. However, that confidence soon leaves her.]

I never saw a flower similar to that one, though. Maybe they no longer exist in my world...

Sorry.

[goldcuffed]

[He looks a little crestfallen at that news, lowering his slightly sloppy drawing of conical flowers.] You haven't seen any here? It's just, my mother planted myrtle trees, in our garden at home. I wanted to find flowers like those to put on her lantern.

[howlongiwonder]

Sorry...

[It's not entirely clear if she's sorry about the flowers, or Damen's mother. Could be both.]

If it's not time-critical, maybe I can take a look around for you.

[goldcuffed]

Oh, no, that's alright, I'll just find something else. [He manages to push away any disappointment to put a friendly enough smile on his face, figuring there are more important things to worry about than arts and crafts for a mother he never even knew.] Are you releasing any lanterns tonight?

[howlongiwonder]

I see.

[2B's face lowers. Despite Damen's efforts she still feels guilty about being unable to help.]

Actually, yes.

Just one.

[goldcuffed]

Who for, if I may ask? [It's not that he wants to pry, it's just that he's... very open about these things himself.] I've found that it... helps, to talk about lost loved ones.

ii

[naz]

[ Caitlin, too, has been finding it a little more difficult to share her grief aloud. It's easier to simply empathize and listen than it is to actually come out with the words, but she's been trying. Some days she's more successful than others.

When he joins the group with whom she's already sitting, she looks up to offer a small smile; one that lacks in happiness, but is warm and welcoming, all the same. Sharing grief by way of sharing life is difficult, she knows. But it's also cathartic and healthy, so any way she can try to welcome the newcomer to the group, she's going to try. ]

What would you want him to say? If he could see you now?

[ Partially, she wants to help the man draw himself out of his shell, but more importantly, if anyone understands complicated relationships with one's parents, it's Caitlin. She's never really knows how to feel about her mother, because she loves her, but she doesn't feel the sentiment returned; it feels like no matter what she does, she's never good enough. She hates that, and yet she still seeks approval. She wonders whether this man's relationship with the father he speaks of is rocky or whether it's a solid, healthy one and the's thinking of his father because he misses him. She wonders if his father has passed away or whether he just misses him because his father is home and this man is here, if he'd come through the portal like she had. ]

[goldcuffed]

[The questions are a slight surprise, and he bites his lip for a moment in thought. What would he want his father to say? He knows what he would want to hear, that Theomedes is proud of his son, but realistically speaking...]

I suppose that he is proud of me. But I don't know if he would be. I'm marrying a Veretian. Akielos will join with Vere. I'm... doing a lot of things that he would not approve of.

I think, I do not want to be the sort of King he wanted me to be, the sort of King he was, and I don't know how to feel about that.

[Turns out, it isn't very hard to draw Damen out of his shell. He barely has one. He's an open book, honest and thoughtful, if naive. Trusting.]

[naz]

[ Caitlin's heart sinks a little, admittedly, when he shares the sentiment with which Caitlin is intimately familiar. All she could ever want in life is for her mother to tell her she's proud of her. It's a bad feeling, she knows. It sounds to her like his father has passed, as well, which would only compound that upsetting feeling, she suspects.

With a sympathetic look, Caitlin reaches like she's going to give his arm a reassuring squeeze like she does with Cisco sometimes, only to let her hand fall away before touching him. He's a stranger to her; for all she knows, he could be especially uncomfortable with that sort of tactile consolation, however innocently intended. ]

It's difficult to wrestle with the uncertainty of whether your parents would approve of your choices when all you want is not to disappoint them.

[ She's agreeing like she knows how it feels because she does. ]

Maybe he would be proud of the fact that you're being your own man, even if he wouldn't have agreed with your values or some of your choices?

[goldcuffed]

[His smile is a little rueful. Damen doesn't flinch away from the almost-touch, indicating that it would have been welcomed - he's never been shy about friendly touch. He's never been shy about much at all, outside of a sexual context.] It sounds as if you have experience with this sort of inner turmoil? [It's a common enough thing, he guesses, not wanting to disappoint your parents.]

He wouldn't agree with much of anything I intend to do with my rule. He... my father was a warmonger king. [Damen admits this with a sort of hollow realization, as if the thought has been there, lurking, but he's never given it voice.]

[naz]

[ Caitlin hums a soft agreement and nods with an empathetic look. Several others in the circle do, as well, which only surprises her because no one has said as much aloud. It is, however, a common stressor, she supposes, so it doesn't surprise her too much. ]

I like to tell myself that...even if my mother doesn't agree with my decisions, if she really thought about it, she'd be proud of the fact that I've grown up to have my own opinions and to stand up to myself, if nothing else. Maybe your father could appreciate the strength of character that comes with having to make your own choices, and the fact that you have, even if the choices themselves aren't agreeable, though, you know? Or maybe not, I don't know. It's just how I try to make myself feel better, in any case.

[ She pauses. He's...well. It isn't like Caitlin comes from a place where royalty is a big deal; in her world, it is, but not in her country. All the same, it seems a bit like trying to slip the POTUS a piece of gentle advice: it isn't necessarily her place and perhaps she ought to leave it at that and go back to listening. ]

I'm sorry, I don't even...know if we're supposed to—I just identified with that feeling too much to keep my mouth shut, I guess. I'm sorry, that was maybe rude of me.

[goldcuffed]

[He leans forward just a little, on his elbows, listening sympathetically. Damen is a big man, even a little hunched over like this. Whatever concerns he has for status and propriety, he doesn't have them here - he is just another man in Riverview, just Damen, not Damianos. He would rather engage with people on the same level.] No, no, it wasn't rude at all. It's- it's very good advice. I will never, at this point, know what he would actually think of me, so... Maybe you're right. Maybe I should try to think of it that way.

It's hard, trying to go your own way, against expectations. Why does your mother disagree with you?

For John Wick;;

[goldcuffed]

[Since the first contact on the network, Damen has been meeting up with John for training whenever schedules allow. It's been good for him, honestly - the exercise keeps him from feeling too restless, too inactive. He's an eager and attentive pupil, even when he's being thrown to the mats by someone he outweighs easily. It's exciting, actually. It's been a while since he's been so easily bested, and he's resolved to learn all he can from John, to relish the challenge for what it is.

They're sparring again today. Or, they were, because Damen is flat on his back on the mats again, glistening with sweat and breathing hard, brown eyes alight with the adrenaline. Still, something seems... different, today, and as he sits up, he looks up at John with the edges of concern creeping into his expression around his good-natured smile. He pushes damp curls out of his face and remarks,] Your heart doesn't seem in it today, and I still find myself thoroughly bested.

[adiuvio]

Not as thoroughly as you might think. You made me work today.

[ John isn't lying. He gives credit where credit is due. Earnest, intelligent, and hardworking, Damen is an ideal pupil. When he gets knocked down, he gets right back up again, never shying away from a challenge. Their training sessions are often the highlight of John's day. Teaching, in its own way, is John's own challenge. He's never bored.

If he's distracted at all, it's not due to any failure on Damen's part. If anything, it was an example of how concentration could make or break a fight. Whether or not Damen knew it, he'd almost gotten John twice. One of his fists had grazed John's ribs, and on the mats Damen had gotten a leg over him, both literally and figuratively, by throwing one of his heavy thighs over John's hips before he'd had time to twist to a more manoeuvrable position.

Just two weeks ago Damen wouldn't have seen either opening. He's getting better by the day.

John wipes the sweat away from his brow with the hem of his t-shirt, contemplating his response before leaning down to offer Damen a hand up. ]

Sorry. It's nothing to do with you. [ A pause. Words aren't John's greatest strength. ] Just, the goings-on this month.

[goldcuffed]

[Damen flushes only slightly at the praise, thinking briefly to himself how strange it is to be proud to hear such things again. During his initial boyhood training, of course, he had felt so much pride every time his instructors said he had done well. He remembers being so proud when, at thirteen, his older brother had fought him with real swords, like a man. One of his scars, low down on his abdomen, aches for just a heartbeat, and he touches it only briefly.

He lets John help him up, and he's much less modest when he strips off his tank top and uses it to wipe the sweat from his own face. He isn't self-conscious about his scars anymore, not even the multitude of criss-crossed pale lines striping his back. Damen is achingly, pleasantly sore when he stretches.] The festival? An entire event just for mourning, it's enough to put anyone in a somber mood. [He says knowingly, though he himself hasn't tried to think about it too hard. His losses still feel raw.]

Is everything alright?

[adiuvio]

[ He doesn't look twice at Damen's scars, and hadn't the first time he'd seen them. John's policy is to never ask more than he'd be comfortable answering. He's got his fair share, all with their stories, and none of them he feels like sharing. There's a lot about John's life, past and present, that's best left unsaid.

He likes his job, this city, and many of the people in it. Damen included. If they knew who he was, who he'd been, they wouldn't like him. He couldn't blame them.

John hasn't been sleeping well. Not since Memoria started. It's a problem. Nowadays, he needs his sleep. His bones are starting to creak in the morning. New pain on top of old aches. Getting up was hard. Getting back down was even harder.

He's starting to feel his age, and it doesn't feel good.

Every year he'd spent with his wife, in their home, had felt like an achievement.
Sharing their fifties, their sixties, their seventies, and their eighties. Helen, growing wiser and more beautiful by the year. John, never deserving her, but spending each year trying his damnedest. Eventually, maybe, he could have been a man worthy of her love.

There had been so much to look forward to.

John tosses Damen a bottle of water, and cracks open his own to take a long drink. He drinks to fill the silence of his hesitation. When he empties the bottle, his stomach full, he's forced to make a choice. Speak, or hold his peace.]

I lost my wife three months ago.

[goldcuffed]

[Damen catches the bottle easily, and uncaps it, lifting it to his lips as he watches John. He isn't an idiot, he can see that his trainer has seemed more tired since Memoria began. Still, it wasn't his place to ask, no matter how his heart might go out to the older man. He likes John, he enjoys their sessions. There's something understated about him, in contrast to his skill, and Damen appreciates that - he seems much more down-to-earth than some of the other people who had offered their services on the network. He likes to think there is something more meaningful than just mentor and student between them, that they could be friends of sorts.

His heart clenches painfully in his chest when John finally speaks, and the admission of loss slashes through the silence. Immediately Damen's expression changes, full of sympathy, though never pity.]

I'm so sorry for your loss. [He says, quiet, and somehow, coming out of Damen's mouth, it doesn't sound trite or cliched. He means it. He aches for this man who could be a friend.] I lost my father, and my brother, but I can't imagine... [Such pain seems impossible, the utter picture of horror, for someone as young and in love as Damen, newly engaged.] How long were you married?

[adiuvio]

Thank you. [ John means it, because he knows Damen means it too. ] A little over five years.

[ John's life could be broken down into two chapters. Before Helen, and after Helen. To some, five years was nothing. To John, they were everything.

Helen had changed his life, and loving her had changed him. Her death had changed him too.

For a moment, John allows himself to be bent with the weight of his despair. His shoulders sagging, his head hanging, and his eyes and mouth heavy. He inhales, deeply, and exhales, raggedly, as if it takes a conscious and considerable amount of effort to continue drawing breath.

It does. ]

Not long enough.

For Laurent;;;

[goldcuffed]

[Damen has spent some time wandering the crowds, talking to people, but ultimately, he finds himself at the riverside with Laurent, a lantern in his hands. It's red, edged with gold - the colors of his royal family, and the name written in the Akielon alphabet spells the name of his brother. He's sure Laurent will release his own, one for Auguste, and he feels a pang inside his chest. Releasing lanterns together for the brothers that they both killed.

He hesitates putting his own into the water, staring down at it.] I don't know if I should. [He murmurs lowly, tracing a finger over the red paper.]

[redoublement]

[ It had been intended that they would meet up at the riverside, that they would give each other time to explore apart- but in the end, while Damen did whatever it was he had chosen to do, Laurent had sat, lingering by the river, staring at the two lanterns he had brought along with him. One was larger than the other; decorated in blues and golds, with a golden starburst drawn upon it's papered side, Auguste's name written in a careful, neat scrawl.

The other, smaller Lantern was decorated with a string of pearls, with a small, delicate sapphire hung on one side. Nicaise's name just as carefully written; with just as much care, and love.

This lantern, he floated alone. Before Damen arrived to see it. Guiding the little boat onto the water, and closing his eyes, a slow breath shuddering out of him. As much as he tried not to, his thoughts lingered on all of the ways he could have done more. All that might have been changed to save Nicaise, if only he had made some different decisions. Slowly, he opened his eyes, realizing his face was slightly damp. Well, that seemed fair.

His greatest regret of all was that he had never told Nicaise how much he had meant to him; that Laurent had loved him, like a brother. For all their faults and differences. For all that they had given one another a hard time- there was no doubt in Laurent's mind that they had shared a bond. Something that transcended beyond family, for their shared sufferings, and experience, and yet also for their banter. Their mutual unspoken understanding. ]

I have not had the best luck, with brothers. [ He spoke to himself, soft and mournful, watching the small lantern float away. Unmoving, until Damen found him. His lantern for Auguste resting near his foot.

Turning, he watched the other's fingertips trace over his lantern, his face soft, and open. ]

Of course you should, Damen. [ His hand extended, brushing softly against Damen's cheek. ] He was still your brother.

[goldcuffed]

[Damen has already released a lantern by himself as well, for his parents. His mother's half was decorated in small flowers, his father's half left regal and plain. He's just been waffling on the lantern meant for his older brother. Releasing one into the river for a dead loved one is supposed to be an honor, from what he can gather.

Joining Laurent, he still can't make up his mind. His eyes drift from the lantern in his lap to the one done up in blue and gold, meant for the man he had killed six years ago. The man who hadn't deserved all that.]

My brother, who would have seen me dead. Who would have seen you dead, who would have seen Akielos lost to your uncle. [The mistakes Kastor made were many and grave.Damen touches his stomach through his shirt, where a scar is faded and old, stretched with time and age.] I just keep wondering how long he wanted me out of the way.

It... I'm not sure I should. It should be an honor. [He nods toward the blue and gold lantern.]

[redoublement]

[ His face was still damp from his send off for Nicaise, and realizing it now, he carefully wiped his own face with his free hand, before leaning in. Moving closer to Damen, his free hand joining it's twin against Damen's cheek, cupping his face softly in his hands. ]

Yes, that was your brother. But so too was he a man you turned to for comfort. Remember him for what good you saw in him, that existed, too. Somewhere along the line, he became lost to his own jealousy- honour him for who he was, and not who he became. [ Laurent spoke softly, his words tender as he held the other's gaze, his own expression soft. ]

[goldcuffed]

[Damen notices the way he wipes his face, and brings a hand up to cover Laurent's pressed against his cheek. He thumbs over his fingers gently. It's an intimate moment between them, sharing this grief, and Damen feels... raw, and open.]

That's just the thing, isn't it? I don't know if the Kastor I saw ever existed. [His scars ache at just the thought of his brother, who had given them to him.] The Kastor I thought I knew... He would have left me for dead. [He can't help the way his brown eyes grow dark and damp with unshed tears, the grief of the last month all bubbling up at once.] He killed our father.

[redoublement]

Damen, listen to me. [ Laurent is soft and honest in all of the ways he usually didn't allow himself to be, holding his lover's face in his hands- yet feeling as though it were his heart he cradled, instead. More delicate and fragile than Laurent felt even Damen was willing to admit. 'If I gave you my heart, I feel you would treat it tenderly.' Damen's own words, echoed through Laurent's mind now. Now, more than ever, he knew the other needed this tenderness. ]

The seeds of jealousy are slow to grow, watered by contempt and ignorance to the good one has. He played with you, held your hand, taught you to swing a sword- surely, there were times that his jealousy of you likely got the better of him. But those seeds were fostered by my uncle. Just because he became someone you did not know, or recognize- it does not invalidate what you shared. That was real, Damen.

You loved him, and for that alone- it is all right, to grieve him, too. [ Briefly, his thumbs brushed away the tears that had begun to fall from the other's eyes, before sliding lower, caressing the lines of Damen's jaw, down his neck, his shoulders- until his hands were gripping Damen's softly, cupped over where he held the lantern. ] It is your choice, to float a lantern for him, or not. No matter your decision, I am here, my love.