Role

Chapter 8

Merthoc's skin stretched tightly over her entire being, each movement a
fantastical jolt of light as she endlessly reached towards the final,
triumphant joy in a life that had known only victory. The party was found in
triumph which is found in victory, which finds, which is victorious, which is.
Merthoc was every scene played out in an endless, uplifting scream of
exultation from the party, amidst ceaseless swirling dancers, lit by an
endless cacophony and cry of one who has overcome simply by being.

The party was - as expected in every movement of Merthoc's life since she had
begun partying. Really. Partying. From the last moment she had felt the pain
of forgetting to rhyme properly to the moment of victory, ever fraction of a
second, when Merthoc knew only utter satisfaction and excitement at greater
moments.

Her body had been restored by her desire to get Rarywey in on The Scene with
her, sacred sacraments provided by the party to those who would party, who
would, who would always. She heard the long horns of prayer calling her friend
Garolyynk, silver tinkling bells in bouquets beneath the standard of his
entire family's goal, fulfilled.

Thanks to Merthoc, not only did she find a way to hopefully get Rarywey drunk,
she also got Garolyynk to stop focusing on his ancestor's expectations by
recruiting him into the flock of the party.

She also seemed to have become immortal, restored by a shimmering cavalcade of
purple sequined fluttering wings, ripping away at the weakness that could not
Get Down anymore. The party had, as it must always, fulfilled Merthoc who
believed in partying, who partied in triumph, who is, and always.

The party, having anointed its most faithful in the techniques to always Keep
the Party Going, gave its warning to the world through Merthoc's blood. Even
when suffering the most grievous of wounds or poisons, Merthoc could still
keep going. Could still always find victory which must find celebration, which
must, which will be, always, eternal.

Merthoc might have noticed that she couldn't feel pain and when she bled, the
bright presence of victory, light against chaos, was all that came out.

But that wasn't important. She wasn't here to suffer a physical form. She was
here to party.