This scene takes place on the evening of December 24th.
Things that don't work in Hollows: Radios. Things that do work in Hollows it seems: CD players. What's playing right now: A mix of rock, punk, and metal from numerous sources, invariably fast, angry, and loud. Duncan had helped Ramona get a few nice big speakers set up here in the Burnout, dragged up from the Forge below. You can feel the beat in your chest cavity. The local hobgoblins don't like it much, but they're not supposed to, living in the Hollow as they do on the sufferance of the Summer Court and their pledges of loyalty and security. Yet a few of them had been surprisingly helpful when it came to dressing the camp up a little, tearing down the overhead tarp for a night and throwing hedge-brambles into the bonfire to grow the flame large and roaring. Torches dot the campground, blazing as they fight off chill and darkness, and circling the perimeter like a wall of fire. It's warm here, in the Hollow. Warmer than it should be, hot even, like a hot summer night.
The barbecue had been a big hit last time, during the Feast of Strength. Ramona can't hope to replicate Marcus's grilling and smoking expertise, but she's no slouch as a cook herself. The main order of the night is stuff you can eat with your hands. Ribs, chicken wings and drumsticks, hotdogs and hamburgers. Finding corn to roast on the cob had been a bit of a pain. Fortunately, the food's not really the focus tonight. It's the booze. And there is plenty of it, brought up from the bar downstairs. Spirits and liquors and kegs of beer. There's a whole row of shot-glasses lined up on one table, just waiting for your requested mix.
And then there's the fireworks. Buried in a pit next to the workshop, which is quiet now, and with a particularly diligent hobgoblin guard standing sentry over them. Has the Hedge ever seen fireworks before? It will tonight. Tonight's a night to remind everyone they're alive. Show the Hedge what they're made of. Tell that dragon that they're not afraid of fire. A few good mortars and some smaller doo-dads should help. Besides, mixing drunk people and explosives is totally a July thing.
Ramona can't help but grin at the thought. She's trying to keep her spirits up. People will come, right? The Freehold here is so much smaller than Portland's was. She never had to organize these events, just show up and help out. There was never a question of if anyone would show up, or enough people to make it a party. Here though, with so few people, and so many of them... sensitive, she's not sure if this is anyone's scene but her own. She might just be throwing a party for herself tonight. Oh well. Summer has to show it's face, and her's is one of the few it has. Fake it 'till you make it. These thoughts are on her mind as she's checking the assembly of a short ramp leading up to the bonfire. It's big enough that some folks might need an assist. (And it makes a good place to hid the fire extinguishers.)
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