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LOVE AT FROST BITE

I. COLD HANDS, WARM HEART

From December through January, high winds gradually rise all across the Netherworld, large flakes of snow causing white-out condition. The wind howls and whistles, blades of icy gusts cutting through your clothes as frost clings to your hair and lashes. No matter where you are, you feel its glacial, bone-chilling force, and no matter what you do, you quickly find that nothing keeps you warm. You're freezing, shivering, teeth chattering. Fire and the proximity of others may offer brief reprieves, so bundle up and find a cuddling partner before you crystalize. If you don't have a Soulmate, now might be the time to search for one.

Unfortunately, when it rains, it pours. Some of you may experience sudden, intense headaches, followed by a sense of panic. Your chest tightens. Your head swims. Your lungs ice over, and you know then: someone's messing with your home in the Shadowlands.

► If you're already in your home, stay alert as light goes out: squint through the dark, and you'll soon be able to distinguish an enormous figure. Krampus.
► If you're anywhere in Stygia and are unable to teleport, crossing the Tempest is particularly perilous on your own, though if you explain what's going on to a Ferryman, they'll oblige.
► Luckily, Krampus doesn't seem extremely interested in your Tethers, but it's entirely possible that he damages a few while being in your home. He's mostly interested in you, and whether you've been a good Restless.

If you feel like your character's done a decent job at silencing their Shadow, Krampus will curse them; every full moons through December and January, they'll be compelled to tell a significant lie. A single lie can be told multiple times to different and/or the same people, and multiple lies can also be told multiple times to different and/or the same people. If, on the other hand, you feel as though they've been struggling -- or worse, enjoying its presence -- Krampus will give them a unique coin: everywhere you go, it'll loudly comment on anyone within 10 feet, giving a brief but accurate description of what your character truly thinks of them. You can't get rid of it, but after its first use, it'll disintegrate within a couple of weeks.

II. DON'T LEAF ME HANGIN'

Kiss kiss fall in love, it's mistletoe time! And its provenance is a little gruesome: some Restless have been coughing them up due to the floral disease affecting Stygia's citizens, and for reasons unknown, the plant's made itself a home in tree branches, bushes, and ceilings. Having the time of its life, probably! Some sprites have taken a liking to them, and started worshipping them as flowery entities. It's believed among them that kissing underneath the mistletoe is the greatest way to honor said entities, while refusing to is a terrible affront; the sprites will start following you and pranking you in retaliation.

► If you walk under mistletoe along with someone else and refuse to/do not kiss, you'll be followed by a sprite for 24 hours, during which they'll prank (see list below*) and just generally annoy you. Only one sprite at a time will follow you, even if you walk again under mistletoe within the 24 hours time frame.
► If you walk alone under mistletoe, this unnamed creature will stalk you from the shadows, whispering and trying to coax you closer, promising delightful kisses you'll never forget. In truth, it just wants to devour your tongue, a delicacy. It'll give up after 12 hours, and will never follow you inside your home.
► An old woman sells mistletoe berry tarts in the Marketplace, and claims it'll help anyone who suffers from insomnia. She's not wrong! One bite and you'll fall dead asleep within the hour, and only a kiss will be able to awaken you. Sweet dreams, sleeping beauty!
► If you do wind up kissing anyone under the mistletoe, you'll find it easier to deal with your Shadow through the month, a blessing from the sprites! If, on the other hand, you don't partake in kissing endeavors, your Shadow will seem louder than usual.

Additionally, many patrons in Mirth host festive and/or cozy soirées throughout December. If you feel like dancing, singing, drinking eggnog in good company and eating delicious hors d'oeuvres, wear your ugliest festive sweater and have some fun! Just be careful, as mistletoe will 100% find its way inside these venues!

PRANK LIST

*you can either RNG or choose! all effects disappear within 24 hours. can be pranked multiple times within 24 hours.

► the sprite enchants your clothing to make them colder and colder.
► the sprite swaps your character's voice with someone else's.
► the sprite steals an object that belongs to you and puts it in another character's pocket/room.
► your breathing becomes loud and obnoxious.
► when it snows, you perceive every flake as a human face.
► everything you eat tastes like ashes.
► you feel compelled to scream everything you say.
► you think you are the world's greatest bard, so sing your heart out!
► you gain a forked tongue.
► when breathing out in cold weather, you exhale black smoke instead of white breath.
► anomalous orifices begin appearing on your body, such as mouths, eye sockets, etc.
► you can now hear all heartbeats within 10 feet of you.
► you hallucinate a worm in your chest trying to eat its way out. you can’t feel it, but the skin on your torso ripples as it burrows beneath.
► you feel like your body is slowly melting, like a candle with a too hot flame. it's not.
► your ears constantly hear a repeating brief tune.

ooc note

► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► If you have questions, check out the plotting post's thread here, or ask new ones here!
► Cozy ambience for your cozy nights in Mirth!
► HAPPY HOLIDAYS ✨

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[Marc has no idea what horrors lay within the hole in the snow. The snole.]

Ffffshp-puh!

[Fukawa spits out the filthy snow she'd just been forced to eat, head and shoulders raised laboriously.]

I'm n-not hurt, you — w-wait. You?

[She's managed to raise herself high enough to get a blinking grasp of the situation. Her glasses may be unseated and dusted with white flakes, but she's near-sighted, and even if she weren't she can damn well recognize that white mask with the moon on top.

Fukawa wheezes. Just as inelegantly as she fell, she scrambles back and away from him. The thick snowfall doesn't let her get very far, she's just wedging further into the drift.]

YOU! Y-YOU STAY BACK! I'M W-WARNING YOU!

[He did promise her an ass-whooping online.]

( marc doesn't recognise her, but given his newly arrived slash newly deceased slash whatever status, he doesn't recognise many people, not yet, not outside of the few who'd responded to his post with video. and also set.

which is to say, he doesn't know what he's done to earn the 'you', besides, maybe, the post itself.
or maybe— the debate he'd gotten into on the post from the hierarchy.
or maybe she's seen him around and taken offence—

truthfully, it's not the strangest reaction, though it's not what he'd expected to be the recipient of here, not so soon. his reputation in new york was built on years of behaviours, some deliberate, the majority ill-advised, but he doesn't think he's done anything here.

(has he?)

he hmms mildly, attention shifting momentarily away from her. he's not entirely convinced she's a threat, not after tripping over a rock in the snow, despite knowing that appearances can be deceiving. )

Don't worry. I'm quite happy stood at my current vantage point.

[This is rather relaxed behaviour for an aggro street brawler. Fukawa's progress stalls, her lip twitching.]

Is...Is th-that because you've got some long distance strike? Are you c-carrying a gun?

[Imagine surviving seven kinds of hells on earth only to get one-shotted in the afterlife. Fukawa flings up a hand in a desperate plea.]

DON'T SHOOT! I r-really didn't mean anything before! I swear! I j-just — you don't know what kind of d-dangers await here! Really! That's all I was t-trying to say!

[Just couched in several layers of cheap pot-shots. Being sincere is difficult.]

( it's relaxed behaviour because marc doesn't interpret fukawa as a threat. would marc's reaction be different if fukawa didn't look to be at least half marc's age? yes, but as it is— no. beneath the mask, his eyebrows knit together in a fleeting frown and he gestures with an empty hand. )

I don't like guns.

( he says, even as she implores him not to shoot her. his response is, pointedly, not a lie: it's been a long time since he's used a gun, having stopped around the same time he very dramatically quit being a mercenary (read: died. he died).

throwing darts and batons are about as long distance as it gets these days.

her added explanation prompts a longer, lingering silence and marc leans forward towards the teenage girl shaped presence in the snow and a thought occurs to him: harukaze, must be. based on ethnicity and the slightly desperate backpedalling (question mark).

he makes a noise that's somewhere between a groan of annoyance and a groan of distaste. age doesn't have any intrinsic relation to ability, ruthlessness and inherent danger, but—

a teenager. he'd threatened a teenager, christ. ) It wasn't. You thought you could speak without experiencing repercussions. ( breath of a pause. ) But you're just a kid, so it makes sense.

[She retracts into her parka, nose tucked behind the scarf and collar so that only two owlish eyes blink out from above the fabric. He's mad. He was definitely mad. Maybe a little dismayed, since he's calling her a kid (she's not a child goddammit), but he stands quite firm on his line from before.

Fukawa waits one tense, overlong beat.]

...Are y-you here to give me repercussions? [It seems like he might lean either way. Hard to say with that stupid mask on.] Is th-that why — are you the one m-messing with my door?

[It's close by. And she still feels like something's gone terribly wrong. That tug and pin-point migraine aren't abating in the slightest.]

What?

( marc glances back towards the door he'd been before. he hadn't — he'd been on his way to his own, to try and discover the source of the wholly unwelcome dread that remained sat on his chest and in his lungs and his stomach. )

That's yours? ( uttered with the same intonation as one might murmur 'huh'. ) No. I didn't touch it. ( beat. ) I was on my way to mine.

( there's a slightly longer pause as he directs his attention back to fukawa — or rather, whatever of her remains visible underneath the scarf and the coat. ) I only deliver repercussions to those who deserve repercussions. ( the meaning's clear: do you deserve repercussions, fukawa? )

S-so it's happening to both of us?

[What, did some greedy asshole decide to run around the Shadowlands robbing Restless for fun? To destroy their tethers? The thought squeezes her insides in new and ugly ways, refreshing the urgency she'd sped out of Stygia with.

But first?]

Um... [Try as she may, Fukawa can't retreat any further into her parka. She's maxed out her collar limits.] I...m-may have mispoken...before...

[Don't revoke her reddit privileges please.]

So. Um. C-can we at least find out wh-what's going on first?

Edited 2022-12-14 17:57 (UTC)

Please. ( marc pauses and leans forward, holding a gloved hand out towards her. part of what he does — being a masked vigilante that has precisely zero (0) superpowers — is making sure that people (his enemies, criminals, etcetera) are too scared to cause any trouble. ) You don't need to keep repeating yourself. I'm not going to hurt you.

But yes, "it's" happening to both of us. ( apparently. he's not going to ask if she'd experienced the same sudden sense of dread and panic that'd refused to leave, if only because he's not keen on vocalising that he'd been made to feel that way. that they're both here is evidence enough.

but— ) What were you planning on doing? ( marc doesn't think he's the scariest thing out here in the shadowlands — unfortunately — and she'd run straight at him, bold and reckless until she'd realised who it was.

he supposes she could just be like that: speak and act first, think later. )

[It would be so easy to throw that line back in his face. Anyone can just claim innocence and good intentions, acting on them is another thing entirely.

But there's the pull again, hooking into her brain and tugging her focus to the door beyond. Fukawa clasps her hand to his, thick mittens making the grip tenuous. She does make it to her feet, dusting the worst of the snow off and sniffing her ever-running nose. She doesn't look any more impressive standing than she did plopped in the snow.

Him, on the other hand. What looked absurd on camera strikes a wholly different chord standing stark against the blizzard, absent of crowds or community. The moon insignia still looks silly, but as she stares into the blank stretch of his face a new chill raises the hairs on her neck. It's not like Towa City, where all the brats had been in those absurd helmets. That was unnerving, but not intimidating.

Always different when it's a grown man.]

Wh-what else? I'm going to kick out whoever's m-messing with my stuff.

[It's said with both the indignation of youth and the harried certainty of the obvious. What did he imagine she came here for? To politely ask it to leave? Not that she relishes having to rely on Syo so quickly after being fucking imprisoned for her crimes, but. Needs must, and all that.

Fukawa grimaces and moves ahead. As her door is right in front of them, it's the simplest place to start. Although:]

You d-don't have to come. Just because we ran into each other you don't have to stop what you were doing.

( there's an obstinance and determination to fukawa's reply that has marc thinking that there might not be much difference in age between fukawa and reese. fundamentally, fukawa strikes him as very different to reese, but there's a shared kinship in being a young adult simultaneously battling who they want to be with who they are. he's already made the mistake of judging a person for what they are rather than who they are. he's not interested in doing so twice.

which is to say: fukawa's answer doesn't really answer the question.

marc hasn't explored much to do with tethers yet, hasn't spent a huge amount of time in his door: it reminds him of home to an unsettling degree, with his tethers serving as little more than taunting reminders of what he'd had and lost, long before even finding himself here. it'd been less knowledge and more instinct that'd brought him to the shadowlands, then, whilst fukawa's reply hints that she'd intuited more than marc had.

still— ) I'm not here to snoop. ( if that's what she's concerned amount. marc could care less about her door and her tether: his concern is more the whoever and the whatever. ) You're a traveller of the night, ( in spite of any personal deficiencies, not that marc's one to comment on that front, ), this is what I was doing.

( a beat and then a concession of sorts— ) But I can wait outside while you do your 'kicking out', if you want. ( and then help finish the job. )

[She gives him a flat look, muttering low.]

It's b-barely even dark out yet. [What a weirdo. She bets Yamada would have creamed himself over this. Some delusional dork in a mask coming to defend the innocent? Sounds right up his sweaty nerd alley. Yet she shakes her head and grips the door knob, conceding defeat at last.] Fine. But don't touch anything. I'd die if we accidentally b-became soulmates.

[And if he's so eager to take all the blows, there might not be a need for Syo after all. Win-win situation.

As they sweep inside, the howl of the wind dies out at once. Inside it's all dead air and the hum of nothingness. A dorm room littered with books and papers, no intruders here. But there's still something amiss. A steel plate in place of a window, for one. The surveillance camera and monitor for another. Fukawa quickly ducks to the desk, checking the drawer for her first two tethers (safe and sound), before turning to the door opposite.

It's open. Just a two-inch crack, but the way she freezes up makes it clear: she hadn't left it that way before.

She gives a frantic look to Marc, pressing a finger to her lips for silence. Maybe that's obvious, but better to nip any slip ups in the bud. Right? She creeps closer, beckoning him forward. They can take a peek together.

In the darkness beyond, there's a queer looking courtoom. In the throne presiding sits a plush bear, about three or four feet high, monochromatic and less than cuddly looking. There are sixteen spots in the round railing, and at all but one a portrait is propped on a tall stand. Most have bloody crosses cut through their faces. A few do not, including Fukawa's own.

And in the midst of all this stands an imposing, impossible figure: a monster in a cloak. He bends to inspect Fukawa's portrait. It's no tether, but its giving the picture a serious consideration.

Her pulse begins to pound at machine gun speeds. She whispers:]

What is that thing?

Edited 2022-12-20 16:36 (UTC)

( there's a remark about it being dark enough on the tip of his tongue, but he refrains from commenting, particularly as she barrels ahead, telling him not to touch anything lest they become soulmates.

it's not the first thing he's heard on the topic, but he's made a point of avoiding it and engaging as little as he possibly can. he can barely manage friendships, romance has been all but a bust, so soulmates? absolutely not.

and certainly not with anyone here.

she opens her door and marc's greeted by an unfamiliar sight: he didn't go to college — the closest he ever came to dorm rooms was in the marines and later, as a mercenary, where amongst shared bunks and tents, tidiness and organisation were an expectation more than a guideline. he's never considered himself as missing out and though he's not entirely sure what he's looking at as he enters her door but it reconfirms his belief that he didn't exactly miss out.

true to his word though, he remains visibly disinterested in the space itself as fukawa checks over whatever she feels she needs to check over, though the sight of her stiffening catches his immediate attention and, regardless of however they might have rubbed each other the wrong way before, he immediately strides across the space, coming to a stop next to fukawa, just in front of the door.

the bear is — certainly something, not entirely discernible in the darkness, although it's at least not moving, which is why marc's attention lands on the creature. marc has about as much idea as to who or what it is as fukawa. he glances at her, mildly surprised at his question — why would he know? — before reaching towards his right leg, for his truncheon. it unclasps with a quiet click and he pauses for just long enough to glance back down at fukawa and ask— )

Do you have anywhere to hide?

Edited 2022-12-20 19:40 (UTC)

[The sudden motion tugs her attention to the weapon at this thigh. Nothing she has a word for, she rarely wrote action scenes, but it impresses upon her yet again how deadly serious he took this business.

The Restless have all lived truly unsettling lives, haven't they?]

I c-can stay in here? [She whispers back.] And if it comes this way, the bathroom locks.

[Though if it pursued her in there, she'd be dead meat. Just like that other one...

She's glad she never saw that body. Naegi still can't erase that first death from his head, no matter how many horrible corpses came thereafter.

Her eyes lock back on the beast. It's rising up, but it's resting a hand on the frame of her portrait. Almost possessively. She shrinks back on instinct, biting her lip.]

D-d-don't... don't you dare die in there.

( marc takes it seriously because he takes everything seriously. he is biologically incapable of being a regular human being, responding to circumstances in a regular human being manner.

he hums softly when she suggests she stays where she is. it's probably not the best option — marc would prefer to draw the creature (monster?) outside, and there doesn't — from what marc can see — appear to be any other exits back into the shadowlands. )

No—, ( he starts to reply, but then the creature starts to move, hand-slash-claw curling around the portrait of fukawa. she tells marc not to die and for a short, quick moment, he's surprised, the remark wholly unexpected. it earns a perfunctory heh: an amused exhale of breath that's almost a laugh. ) I don't tend to stay dead, ( he tells her, his tone implying that he doesn't think that'll be any different here. )

Hide, ( he urges, raising the hand holding the truncheon behind his head, ready to throw at the creature which has moved on to — caressing? the portrait. ) I'll draw it outside. ( he says, releasing the truncheon. fortunately(ish) for the two of them, marc's aim is true, and the stark white baton hits the creature squarely on the side of the face and it turns suddenly, sharply towards them with a snarl. )

[Love that for him. Always be extra, king.

His assurance is delusional. Even the mighty fall, and Fukawa's seen enough disasters unfold to never put blind faith in anything. But boy, does he sell it well. When he tells her to hide she darts off without a second thought, slipping into the bathroom and cinching the door just shy of closed.

She flinches at the snarl beyond, knuckles going white around the doorknob. If he fails, if it sounds like a losing battle, then she'll have no choice but to intervene. She can't lock it, no matter what.

Good thing, too. A scant second after its turned, after the blow begins to smart, it locks eyes with the offender. The creature lunges, its speed unimaginable. Several portraits wobble in the wind of its wake. Its battering through the door in no time at all, claws outstretched to seize Marc.

Its looking for someone. More than one someone, as a matter of fact.]

Spector. [Its voice is an unholy rumble, too even keel for its rage.] Grant, Lockley.

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v sorry for the amount of links here, technically no spoilers!!

what is that thing, she says, whilst having THAT BEAR???

Look sometimes you are simply forced to deal with a horrible bear (v mild spoilers)

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summons wiki info, please let me know if this needs adjusting