[It's been more than a bit dizzying, trying to get used to this world's mix of wonder and horror. Neil got off relatively light last month, but he's well aware that plenty of others didn't. Either way, he can't help his excitement at the festival. He may be more suited to art than he is to competition, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it. To that end, he's participating in positively every event he can - dodging dodgeballs, running races, hiding, seeking, tugging on rope.

[At the present moment, one may catch him snatching their handkerchief and making a run for team red's home base. Or, perhaps they find themself his partner in a relay race. He claps them on the shoulder as potato sacks are passed out for the next leg.]

You know what to do next, right?

How's your coordination?

[He's reading over the list he's been handed. He doesn't look to happy. Some of these options are...a bit grim. He frowns for a moment, then turns it into a smile, none too comfortable. He glances to the person he's with, shaking his head a bit.]

I don't know...

I think I'll sit this one out.

[Neil is nervous, but not nervous enough to stop him - from standing in front of a class, from standing in front of an audience, from standing in front of this crowd. When he recites his poem, he does so with every ounce of himself, not a syllable wasted.]

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.

[It's melancholy, appropriately subdued, but passionate all the same, with such emotion welling up that it touches his eyes.]

That was, ah...A Clear Midnight by Walt Whitman.

[A soft, polite applause is given. Neil's cheeks are hot. He ducks his head in a thank you and leaves the antiquated microphone for someone else to take hold of.]

[If the rumors are true, then Neil is about to experience something you'd have to otherwise read about in a comic book. He sends out what he hopes is a telepathic message. It should reach someone from team red.]

Hello? Can anyone out there hear me? This is Neil Perry.

[Should he say "over"?]

((ooc: if you want to use the last prompt as a team red group chat, please do - I encourage threadjacking on this one - also if you want to do something else, just wildcard me or hit me up on pantheraliam))