Adults loved rules.

Rules about shoes.

Rules about chairs.

Rules about voices.

Rules about manners.

Rules about what one should feel.

And most importantly—

rules about when you were allowed to stop following the other rules.

Children had a word for that place.

The playground.

—

CHIBI:
“Why are we out here?”

—

MARA:
“Because Sean said to wait.”

—

CHIBI:
“He says that when he doesn’t want us somewhere.”

—

MARA:
“Yes.”

—

CHIBI:
“So we’re going somewhere.”

—

MARA:
“You’re exhausting.”

—

CHIBI:
“Thank you.”

—

Music drifted down the street.

A fiddle.

A piano.

Real laughter.

Not polite laughter.

—

CHIBI:
“That sounds better.”

—

They followed it around the corner.

A pub.

A music hall.

A boxing room.

A club.

A chemist.

A few discreet doors.

—

Chibi stopped.

—

CHIBI:
“Adults have playgrounds.”

—

MARA:
“What?”

—

CHIBI:
“Look.”

—

A gentleman stumbled from the pub laughing.

Two women hurried into the music hall.

Young men crowded towards the boxing room.

An older man checked over his shoulder before entering an unnamed club.

—

CHIBI:
“They make us sit still all day.”

—

MARA:
“Yes.”

—

CHIBI:
“Then they send us outside to run around.”

—

MARA:
“Yes.”

—

CHIBI:
“And they sit still all day.”

—

MARA:
“Yes.”

—

CHIBI:
“Then they come here.”

—

Mara looked at the street.

—

MARA:
“Oh.”

—

CHIBI:
“Adult playground.”

—

A cheer came from the boxing room.

Two men fought under rules.

Rounds.

A referee.

A handshake afterwards.

—

CHIBI:
“So fighting with rules is civilised?”

—

MARA:
“Sometimes.”

—

CHIBI:
“And fighting without rules?”

—

MARA:
“Usually not.”

—

CHIBI:
“So the rules change the fighting?”

—

Mara thought.

—

MARA:
“No.”

—

CHIBI:
“Then what do they change?”

—

MARA:
“What people call it.”

—

Across the street, the chemist locked away bottles.

Morphine.

Laudanum.

Cocaine preparation.

—

CHIBI:
“Those are drugs.”

—

MARA:
“They’re medicine.”

—

CHIBI:
“So they’re both?”

—

MARA:
“Yes.”

—

CHIBI:
“How do they know which one they are?”

—

Mara looked at the bottles.

—

MARA:
“They don’t.”

—

CHIBI:
“Then who decides?”

—

MARA:
“People.”

—

CHIBI:
“That seems risky.”

—

MARA:
“Quite.”

—

They walked on.

At a workers’ hall, people sang around a battered piano and fiddle.

No velvet.

No fancy clothes.

No one hiding.

—

CHIBI:
“Is this respectable?”

—

MARA:
“Probably not.”

—

CHIBI:
“Why?”

—

MARA:
“Wrong people.”

—

Chibi looked at her.

—

MARA:
“I’m joking.”

—

CHIBI:
“No, you’re not.”

—

Mara sighed.

—

MARA:
“No.”

—

They listened for a while.

Everyone knew the chorus.

Nobody cared who sang well.

—

CHIBI:
“Why do they all sing the same song?”

—

MARA:
“Because then nobody has to perform.”

—

CHIBI:
“They are performing.”

—

MARA:
“No.”

—

She pointed inside.

—

MARA:
“They’re joining.”

—

Chibi watched.

—

CHIBI:
“So music is a playground too?”

—

MARA:
“Maybe.”

—

CHIBI:
“A place where you don’t have to be good at something to belong?”

—

Mara smiled.

—

MARA:
“That’s actually rather good.”

—

CHIBI:
“I know.”

—

The city breathed around them.

Pub.

Boxing hall.

Music.

Chemist.

Club.

Pressure.

Release.

Pressure.

Release.

—

CHIBI:
“Why do adults pretend they don’t need playgrounds?”

—

MARA:
“Maybe they think growing up means not needing one.”

—

CHIBI:
“Does it?”

—

MARA:
“No.”

—

CHIBI:
“Then what does growing up mean?”

—

Mara looked towards the lights.

—

MARA:
“Knowing which playground won’t destroy you.”

—

Chibi thought.

—

CHIBI:
“And knowing when to go home?”

—

MARA:
“That too.”

—

At the end of the street, a black door opened.

Several very respectable adults entered.

No laughing.

No drinking.

No music.

Each carried a small black invitation.

—

CHIBI:
“Another playground?”

—

Mara watched the door close.

—

MARA:
“I don’t know.”

—

CHIBI:
“Should we find out?”

—

Mara took his hand.

—

MARA:
“Not tonight.”

—

Behind them, the music continued.

Ahead of them, the black door remained shut.

And somewhere behind it—

people had begun to ask a different question.

Not how to let the Inner Fire breathe.

But where it came from.

—

## THE INNER FIRE — SEX, DRUGS & FOLK MUSIC

Children get playgrounds.

Adults build pubs, clubs, boxing rings, dance halls, card rooms, chemists and private doors.

Perhaps civilisation never abolished the playground.

It only gave each one a more respectable name.

## QUESTION FOR YOU

**What is your adult playground?**

The place, ritual or activity where you can stop performing for a while and simply breathe.

And at what point does a pressure valve stop helping—

and start owning you?

## CTA

At Mythveil Chronicles, history is not just about what people believed.

It is about what they needed, what they hid, and the names society gave to both.

Enter the campaigns:
https://startplaying.games/gm/dunchan

Go deeper into the research, philosophy and living worlds behind Mythveil Chronicles:
https://www.patreon.com/c/mythveilchronicles_bydunchanhuntergames