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[/b][/h3][/sup][/color][/row][row][cell][sup][h2][color=black]MEIR MAGGID[/color][/h2][/sup]
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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]act one: way down we go    [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZXxmhok1AU][color=black]♫[/color][/url] [/b][/color][/sup][indent][sup][color=a9a9a9]p. johnson's [color=black]▸[/color] Ritman High, Football Field
Interacting with [@Prisk][@Gisk]
[/color][/sup][/indent][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/970459343667494932/unknown.png[/img][/center][sub][color=#2e2c2c]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color][/sub][/cell][cell][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/967592442486460476/unknown.png[/img][/center][indent][color=dcdcdc][sub]It was almost an episode right out of [i]Cheers[/i] inside of PJs except for being the millennial edition in a seedy dive bar with a bunch of introverts and Natalie Miller. It was almost too much of a coincidence, one, that these many people decided to show up and two, specifically these individuals from Ritman High. Either way, the strands of fate would keep pulling while Meir kept chugging, those whiskey sours at least. There was a weird almost infallible connection he was gaining with Natalie at the bar, but then again that could have been the alcohol creating things that weren’t there. Had she always been this nice? 

The party at the bar began to sputter and die a bit, perhaps the melancholy of it all began to bleed into the rest of the conversations. Despite it all, there was a nagging sensation in the back of his brain pushing him to take initiative of the situation. Normally he would rely on, well literally anyone, specifically Jack since this was her show to run. Drama in the bar with a patron seemed to be getting the best of her and he was the next, maybe the next next best thing. He rallied for everyone in the bar who was willing to move the party to its appropriate course, the football field, to follow him. Not many followed really, just Natalie and William. Sara and Jack had whispered mutterings of carrying a keg with them, a sight to surely inspire some type of Greek tragedy or renaissance painting. 

There was still the matter of the late attendees. He suspected those of who came and got cold feet would remain holed up in PJs until they woke up tomorrow, hungover, and ready to keep the memory shut in the yearbook somewhere in their basement or attic. Facebook opened on his android; he was part of the pretentious crowd that preferred them over iPhones. A few more check-ins came in from names he should have suspected. [color=black][b][i]”Man, it’s really just turning into Bullied Anonymous--hic”[/i][/b][/color] a burp interrupting his jeer. His thumb slapped on the screen in what felt like an endless stream of scrolling until he reached the end. The chat bubble opened once more, both hands manning the ship now. 

[i]”Parties moving from PJs to the Ritman football field, be there or we’re opening the capsule without you. -Meir”[/i]

He wasn’t sure why he signed his own name when his name was already attached. Habit he had from submitting thousands of emails to faculty, student, and staff. He turned to Natalie, [color=black][b]“You think it’s going to be locked?”[/b][/color] Meir checked his watch seeing a time well beyond what’s permitted of visiting hours, [color=black][b]“Hey, why haven’t you been drinking as much as me? Not up to your parents’ cabinet?”[/b][/color] he chortled. The front of Ritman had a massive fence that had been locked shut. Signs a plenty signifying it’s end and a date that cemented the date of its destruction. Of course, there were a few ‘no trespassing’ signs, but that was only a formal suggestion. Instead, Meir headed around to the neighboring side street where house lined both sides of the streets. 

Since it was a residential road there was another entrance to the school, for those able enough to walk instead of taking a bus. Meir, of course, always sat next to the front so the bus driver could ensure he wasn’t being bullied in the back of the bus. The fence was closed to cars, but a gap in the fence for walkers was still visible. An energy that could only be described as nostalgic teenage angst rose up in Meir. He signaled for Natalie and William to follow before he raced off through the gap and into the ancient turnstile gate that was rusting heavily, causing the turnstile to need an extra push to get through. 

It was a few feet of walking before he saw it. The view of the untarnished turf field with a giant Magpie in the middle of the field as their mascot. The lights beamed down on the field and track surrounding, even the bleachers were glistening in the night’s sky. A biome that thrived in the otherwise forgettable and condemned background. Meir took his phone out once more, only slightly out of breath. 

[i]”Front entrance is locked, go through the side leading up”[/i]

The phone chimed, before he realized the most important thing. 

[color=black][b]“Oh shit, I forgot the capsule.”[/b][/color] 
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