More Invitations Came In…

Tyalangan

Meeting over, Tyalangan heads to her office. She has a bit of time before she is needed on the training grounds. Stanley is diligently working on double checking Tina’s math on her shop items; he stops as the Host walks in.

“Uh, hi, ma’am. More mail is on your desk.”

“Thank you Stanley. How’s the bean counting going?”

“Mrs. Tina has… interesting ideas on how to quantify numbers.”

Tyalangan snorts, noting, “And that is why you are checking her work. Thank you. Want some coffee?” A carafe of cold brew appears in her hand, pulled from her inventory.

“No, thank you. Coffee makes my tummy upset.”

She heads to her desk. Arabella’s stationary awaits. The Host gives her screens a once over, then sits to read:

Dear Harper,

I'm writing to ask you something I hope you'll say yes to before you've finished reading the sentence, but I wanted to ask properly all the same.

I'm getting married. The real version this time - with a ceremony, an aisle, witnesses who aren't a river. Sam is going to be my Best Woman, a role she was born to fill and will execute with precisely the level of terrifying efficiency you'd expect from her. She's also, I'm fairly certain, planning my bachelor party, and if that's the case, you've probably received an invitation already. I'm choosing not to look too closely at this. Some things are better not fully known in advance.

What I want to ask is this: would you stand with me at the ceremony as a groomswoman?

You see, I've been thinking about the people who shaped who I have become here - at the Hotel, in the game, in whatever I'm becoming. And when I look at that list honestly, you're near the top. I still remember the first time we met, under unpleasant circumstances, when you came onto a stranger's set to try to bring Dinah home, and that didn't go the way you hoped. And the second, much more pleasant circumstance, at my birthday party, founding the MSA.

And then there were the letters. The land. The various gifts you sent. The mithril koala claws your wife made, which Laura has already threatened to use as a prop. You've been a friend in a place that doesn't always make friendship easy, and I don't take that lightly.

You don't have to answer quickly — I know you're mid-season, and I know the logistics of getting here from your set are not simple, even by the standards of the thoroughly strange world we both live in. But if you can make it, I would be honored to have you there.

Either way, I'll see you at whatever Sam has planned, apparently.

— Andy

P.S. — Sam says she will arm-wrestle anyone who tries to challenge her Best Woman title. I have not discouraged this.

P.P.S. — Laura has already approved this letter. She said, and I quote, "obviously." I'm learning to accept this as high praise.

She turns to the camera with a knowing smile.

“Of course. Position accepted. So you know, I will riot if the groomspeople tux is powder blue. Looks terrible on me with my complexion.”

She looks up at the feeds again. Mona and Tessa are starting to watch the casino season? Oof, that’s not a pleasant one. What all is cued up? Ooof. I guess Mona was serious about trying to learn from dark season mistakes.

The other letters are invitations to the HH bachelorette party (plus an equally crumpled invite for Kevin from Sam). Tyalangan already handled arrangements for the wedding, but now she sees that everyone is going a day early, not just her. It’s a little more annoying to freeze time that long, but the extra magic in the budget for season crossovers will handle it.

She stares at the one for Mona. Tyalangan knows the girl is still panicking about weddings. The kid will need a pick-me-up after imbibing all that dark season slop. Maybe this will help?

Mona

Michael and Greg and Jack and Zach are all such assholes. I don’t want to be like them! Please, don’t let me be like them…

Mona is curled up on the couch in the Suite. She knows that she needs to get her exercise in and get ready for her date, but her heart aches so much. She’s finding it hard to keep from retreating to a dark corner of the Suite and hiding until Ophie bodily drags her to get ready.

Tyalangan appears in her misty way, sitting beside her. She waits a few moments, then states, “Well, you saw some of the worst results the show has to offer. Do you want to talk about it?”

“How could they do that?!?!?!?!” Mona half-sobs.

“They succumbed to darkness. Masters and Mistresses do that more often than not. Give someone power, let them learn to enjoy abusing it, and budding tyrants like the ones you watched are the result.”

“Is that going to happen to me?” Mona asks, begging for an easy answer.

“Not if I can help it. But I have seen you revel in the power you have been granted once or twice. I know about your little plan with Harith, too. Be careful with that sort of thing.”

She knows? Of course she knows…

“Did you ever screw up with a command power thingy? What happened?”

Tyalangan looks like she was just slapped. Still, she answers, “Her name is Dinah. She was one of my original six. She had a very rough time with the second challenge and the aftermath. The whole Week before it, too, to be honest. The audience gave me a crazy command transformation that I didn’t want. I can sense that one of my companions are about to fail a roll then force it into a success. In exchange, they become their understanding of the perfect submissive slave. Scarlet and I were sitting with her, trying to hash things out, and I felt the transformation trigger. She was about to completely give up on life. That was the only time I ever gave into the transformation. Biggest mistake I made that week.”

Mona sits with that. She tried to help, clumsily. “This Dinah girl die?”

“Too determined to do that. Once she came out of the slave fugue, she turned her attention to finding a way to escape. Succeeded, more or less. Exploited an off-site date location’s poor security to get into the Backstage, nearly died multiple times, found her way to a friendly set. She was cut away from me; I still have a scar on my soul from it.”

A scar on her soul? “What does that mean?”

“You have been told that they are bound to you metaphysically. Your soul is the anchor point. The way her bond to me was severed left a wound that has healed as well as it is going to. It hurts to talk about her.”

“So, what happened to her?”

“She joined that set’s staff. She’s doing well. We’ve exchanged some letters. I’m not going to say that things between us are hunky dory now, but…”

Mona places a hand on Tyalangan’s shoulder. The height difference is awkward. “So, I need to be aware that even using those powers with the best of intentions can lead to disaster. And using them to be cruel or because they are fun or something like that leads to asshole tyrant Mona.”

“Yeah. Decently said.”

Mona finally notices the letter in Tyalangan’s hand. “What’s that?”

“A party invite for you. Here.”

Mona snags the letter and tears it open. She feels confused as she reads:

“Why am I getting invited to a bachelorette party of strangers? One that’s being hosted by someone who can’t spell Lisa?”

Mona shivers at Tyalangan’s mom glare. The Host states, deadpan, “Liesa is Belgian. And you wrote to one of the brides.”

It takes Mona a moment to connect the dots. When she does, she panics, “Oh no, did Mr. and Mrs. Cooper break up? Wow, Mrs. Cooper moves fast…”

The mom glares intensifies.The deadpan response does not, “Andy is the groom. They are all marrying Andy. Or, I guess, The Consort is technically rededicating to Andy. Still, they want you there.”

“Oh, okay. I can go.”

“Good, because I already RSVPed for you. When it’s time to go, we’ll have a fun field trip. Feeling a little better?”

Mona gets up. “Yes, actually. Thanks for checking up on me. I should get my workout in before my date tonight.”

As Mona heads to her private gym to get a good job and some weightlifting in, she feels a little bit lighter. I don’t have to go down the road as those asshats. And I got a fun party to look forward to! Yay!