9879/Frankly, Scarlet, I don't give a yam!

From United Heroes MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Frankly, Scarlet, I don't give a yam!
Date of Scene: 02 November 2019
Location: Campsites - Breakstone Lake
Synopsis: Shannon and Triage soothe their sorrows with food by campfire.
Cast of Characters: Triage, Nightingale




Triage has posed:
The healers were late to the party. Soon after they arrived, the last of the teachers decided to head for the mansion, leaving the fire for Shannon and Chris to tend. How could they waste such a treasure on a crisp autumn night? Armed with sharpened sticks, franks, and the ingredients for s'mores, the two prepared to enjoy their good fortune.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon was already taking advantage of the windfall, having speared several franks onto one of the sticks, plopping herself down near the fire, and holding the meaty treat out near the flames for roasting. Okay, sure it was chilly, but for now, the fire remained sufficient to keep warm. She's chuckling softly, shaking her head. "Do you really think the teachers will go for the idea of that Capture the Flag game?"

Triage has posed:
Holding another stick with several impaled franks, Chris settles beside Shannon in the fire's warm glow. "I don't know," he answers. "It would be fun even without them, especially if we don't wait until spring. I'm sure that some new kids haven't seen real snow, more than a dusting before dawn." He hovers his spear over the flames to roast the franks. "We need more than studies around here, especially in winter with cabin fever."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon rolls her eyes and lets out a little snort, a wry smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards. There's little pops and sizzling sounds as the franks cook, juices dripping into the flames; a savory aroma lingers in the crisp evening air. "Agreed about the snow... but man, talk about cabin fever," she mutters. "I get that enough already. What's it going to be like in winter when it gets even worse?"

Triage has posed:
Chris watches his skewer and grins when the juices begin to drip and sizzle in the fire ad the outer skin begins to brown and then blacken. "That depends from person to person," Chris replies with a shrug. "Some will find ways to cope inside. Some will spend more time on studying. Others will binge for hours on streaming videos or music. If they can find rides, some will go to the city, Salem or even New York, for a day of museums or shopping. A few might venture outside to see if the white stuff is really all that they imagined."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon shrugs a little, pulling her skewer from the fire to poke at the franks and test them to see if they're done enough. "The snow will be a welcome change, at least for the first week or so. Just a little bit frustrated, having to be extra careful about going anywhere since you-know-who. I know it's because they care about me and are trying to keep me safe, but still... I'll be glad for any change of pace there is. Even snow."

Triage has posed:
"You'll get snow in abundance if this is a typical year," Chris predicts. "But then, I'm not sure that it's typical with all that happened in even in the past few months. We've had more troubles than peaceful days, with people finding new ways to make our lives life miserable." He raises his skewer to examine the franks.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods firmly, and lets out a soft laugh. "Talk about baptism by fire. There's times I felt like one of these franks." Finding that her franks aren't quite done yet, she holds her skewer back out over the fire, and smiles, listening to the crackling of the flames. "Always someone to swing you out over the fire to see if you fry. But then again, there's always someone there to pull you out of the flames, too. We might've had troubles, but we've also found out more about who our true friends are, too."

Triage has posed:
"Troubles tend to do that," Chris agrees. "You know how strong the team is, and what you need to improve, once you've been through a battle leaves you wondering, 'How did we survive that?'" He adjusts his skewer over the flames, turning it to brown the other sides of the franks. "I think that incidents like what we saw at the coronation give a good idea of what works and what needs a tweak."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly. "Call me nuts, I've seen Lorna and her dad in battle and they're both formidable people. But this whole mess like what we saw at the coronation really has me concerned for their whole family. I've never seen her just break down like that. It's tempting to see if they're okay, but if it was bad enough for her dad to tell her to stay clear, poking about may cause more trouble than it's worth. Just... it'd be nice to be able to let them know they're being thought of. If that makes any sense."

What Shannon pulls back from the fire now, is nicely charred on the outside, and sizzling beautifully. A grin spreads across her face, and she can't resist taking a bite right there. "Whoever invented franks oughta be sainted."

Triage has posed:
Chris frowns for a moment when Shannon echoes his memory of the scene. "It was bad for all of them and bad for us. Someone wanted to send a message." He eyes her franks and raises his skewer, almost going for one of the slightly charred morsels. Then he stops with the still smoking tube of processed meat aloft. "I can't eat," he admits. "I ... collected the remains from the box. I ran the tests." He sighs. "They were young people, some even children. Someone wanted to send a message," he repeats. "I'd say that the person succeeded to a point, and the victims paid dearly for the postage."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon leans over to drape one arm across Chris' shoulders, and wrap one wing around him as well. She doesn't say a word, just hugs him in silence. Her franks are out of the fire, but for now, are forgotten.

Triage has posed:
"I'm sorry," Chris apologizes. "I shouldn't have mentioned the coronation and spoiled your hopes for a few moments of peace." He looks at the skewer of franks, still dripping. "I was there again." He shakes his head and looks to Shannon. "It's gone. We helped to drive the thing, that phantom soldier, away. We can't undo what he did, but we help others. That should count for something."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon feels a few tears trickle down her face and just hugs him tightly, nodding. "We did, and I hope it was for good. We were both there when help was needed. And very likely, the fallen were given proper rest. I can't see Magneto letting that go. He did the same for Daniel." She smiles a little through the tears and gently nudges Chris. "Hey, we all pulled together when even the royal guards were in a tizzy."

Triage has posed:
Chris turns to look at Shannon. Without thinking, he lifts his hand and brushes away the tears with his fingertips. "It's true," he agrees. "We couldn't have helped the butcher's victims but we did all that we could, and more than some." He glances at the crackling fire. "We have this and we have good food. We should enjoy both before the next crisis explodes." With that, he lowers his hand, grabs the skewer, and takes a bite from the topmost frank. He smiles, chews, and swallows. "When the next battle comes, we'll be ready."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon holds still as he brushes her tears away, smiling faintly. "We will. Till then, we have good food, good company, and a fire to enjoy both with." She nibbles one of her franks, allowing herself a little sigh of delight. "Okay, I'd all but forgotten how good these can taste roasted over an open flame."

Triage has posed:
"It's true." Chris grins and takes a heartier bite from his frank. "The others missed their chance but they'll have other bonfires, and this means more franks and s'mores for us! We'll need that energy when the snow comes and we take our turns at shoveling the walks."

Nightingale has posed:
     "And there's a /lot/ of walks to shovel. Ugh! Now that is going to be some pretty epic strength training!" The winged girl giggles, rolling her eyes and munching on another frank. "But frank-ly, Scarlet, I don't give a yam."