(no subject)

[oblivium]

LOVE AT FROST BITE

I. COLD HANDS, WARM HEART

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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'

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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

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*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.

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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 ✨

Comments

[midway]

[ Claude might not be quite the romance artist that Sylvain is, but he's never been particularly shy about physical intimacy. The warmth alone is worth it, the closeness between them chasing away the persistent chill and the press of Sylvain's mouth sending a warmth straight down to his chest.

He doesn't think too deeply about what he's doing, which is unlike him. Perhaps because he knows that if he thinks about it for more than a second he'll realize what a terrible idea it all is. What a terrible person it makes him.

But it would be better in the long run. Not only because Sylvain deserves better, but because it leaves room for an unease to crawl up his spine; a pressure that throbs like an unnatural headache in his skull. His tongue presses against the seam of Sylvain's mouth, and the heat of it clears some of the storm away.

It's a blessing, before something else comes slithering to take its place.

Two-faced liar, you carry deceit in your blood.

He thinks his grip tightens on Sylvain's waist, tension from nothing good wracking up his spine and the soft, teasing tone that Sylvain had pressed close with replaced with a bitter rigidity that Claude can't disguise for long.

The whispers rattle in his head; a painful grip around his heart as he tries to dispute the accusations that his Shadow levels against him, but whenever he tries, he finds himself back in the burning heat of Ailell, Shez' voice in his ear: Am I gonna be next?

He wrenches himself back, a hand going up to hold his temple— ] Sorry- sorry.

[philandery]

[ the problem with impulsive decisions is, sylvain can't tell if he's entertaining something new or indulging old habits in the guise of novelty. where physical intimacy is involved, something a step beyond chaste kisses and friendly flirting, his brain wires itself differently—like an emotional fight or flight response, except both lead to self-sabotage. (but he's dead, and there shouldn't be anything he's still running away from, or to ruin... right?)

he doesn't know what he's expecting from claude, but he kisses him like he might find the answer, open and searching. the heat of his mouth is all-too tempting, like something he can drink, but then he feels the noticeable shift in claude's body language. where he expects his partner to relax a little, he only tenses up instead, flinches away from his grasp. sylvain almost goes with him, slower to return to their abrupt reality, hands hovering uselessly in the space where claude used to be. ]

—Oh. Hey. ...Are you alright?

[ did he do something wrong...? push claude past some undisclosed limit? he suddenly feels a little sheepish for his impetuous actions, and rubs the back of his neck, looking apologetic. ]

Sorry if I got a little carried away...

[midway]

[ Whatever good cheer and ease Claude had felt moments ago couldn't be further away now, frigid ice blooming where there had just been warmth. Both his head and his heart are pounding; guilt and panic so tight in his chest that it feels almost like a physical wound.

It will pass. He knows it will, because this isn't himself. This his Shadow, or the bursts of unease that follow the trouble in the Shadowlands, or the rise of the full moon, but he knows himself well enough to know that it isn't his own lack of control and logic.

It will pass, and he'll continue on as he has been, but perhaps with a little more concentrated effort at keeping a distance from the Faerghans. Sylvain can interpret it as a lingering awkwardness from this encounter. The magic and the machinations of the Netherworld will keep this as a weapon against him, but even if he were to surrender it, it would find another to take its place.

But, does he have another as dangerous as this? Would it be better for his soul, to be honest? ]

... It's not that.

[ With a sigh, he lifts his head expression both weary and polished. The same face he had when he faced Rhea, explaining to her why there could be no future for Fódlan while she ruled the Central Church. He may feel guilt for all the lives that had been lost at his command, but he would never feel any regret. ]

I told you when we first met that we weren't allies in my version of Fódlan. That wasn't the full story. [ He wonders if Shez and Judith would be glad if he was being honest, or if they'd think he's an idiot for getting soft now, of all times. ] The truth is that I allied with Edelgard against Faerghus and the Church.

I ordered an invasion Faerghus through Fradarius, that's where we encountered your father. [ It feels for a second like his brain is only now catching up with his words, but he feels as calm as ever. ] And it's where he died.

merry crisis

[philandery]

[ when claude meets his gaze again sylvain instinctively knows it can't be anything good—the way his expression is suddenly shuttered, the tonal shift of his voice from playful to deliberate. and finally, sylvain sees the mask for what it is, realizes that whatever camaraderie he imagined them building has never been more than a house of cards. it still takes a moment, however, to feel the twist of the proverbial knife, not fully realizing the cut is there until claude's already finished speaking. it's sylvain's first instinct to deny a painful truth—second to recklessly embrace it. he's been here long enough that it's no longer strange or unimaginable to experience wildly diverging histories. he should've known better.

it's his shadow that bleeds from this unexpected wound, a sudden spill of malice that colors his vision red, blanches whatever warmth he felt with the acute feelings of dismay, of betrayal, of resentment. he forgets every good moment they've shared, forgets their stupid sweaters and dancing and mistletoe, and imagines tearing through claude's chest with his relic instead. (in the absence of his weapon, he thinks it would be just as satisfying to crush his throat with his bare hands.)

thankfully, his soulbond offers a semblance of clarity, tempers the thrashing of his shadow. he digs his fingers into the collar of claude's sweater, rather than his windpipe. ]

Why?

[ it's not too difficult to see the reason behind claude's political decisions, given the church's history with faerghus and all the dangers edelgard poses. it's always been a possibility the alliance could bend to the empire, though at the moment, it's unforgivable to sylvain all the same.

but what he really wants to know, ]

Why are you telling me this?

[ why paint a target on his back, when he can keep lying instead?

sylvain doesn't want to hate claude, but it feels too close to an inevitability—even if his father is well and alive in his own world. even if the claude in his version of fódlan had chosen to ally with the kingdom instead. he can't help the way his expression twists into a smile of bitter regret.

what a damn fool he's been. ]

[midway]

[ That's a good question. Why did he tell he truth?

Claude doesn't retaliate when Sylvain grabs his collar, but his expression remains cool, calculated, and unwilling to reveal anything of what he might be feeling—except that he's allowing this show of aggression up to a point.

If Sylvain touches him any further, he will defend himself. ]

You seemed like you were looking for a friend. I thought you should know not to expect one with me.

[ It's a weak argument, one insulting to Sylvain while also pretending that Claude was honest for anyone's sake but his own. He doubts that Sylvain would believe it, but that's not really his concern. ]

[philandery]

[ it doesn't add up. if this was claude's intention from the get-go, why entertain sylvain's company at all for the past months? whether in the guise of claudia, or as himself, there was no need to do so. he could've politely excused himself, could've coldly brushed sylvain off as he does now. there wasn't a reason to be friendly in the first place.

so the explanation leaves sylvain all the more frustrated and bewildered. but if there's one thing he recognizes, that he knows all-too well, it's that claude is protecting himself in his own way. (of course he is. he has no allies of his own here.)

serves him right, his shadow thinks.

alongside the vitriol, however, is a certain understanding of their mutual misfortune. they were both dragged into the fighting, and both suffered consequences for it. and even in death, their decisions continue to haunt them. it's only this shared misfortune that has sylvain letting go and stepping back, instead of attempting to dash his skull against the wall. he doesn't forgive claude, but killing him now won't change the outcome of either of their wars. (maybe he should do it, anyway.)

he ignores his shadow and shrugs on the same mask of disinterest that claude wears. contents himself with the sick sense of vindication in knowing that claude's life's dreams have been shattered. excises any illogical feelings of hurt he may feel. ]

...Message received.

[ it's clear there's no room for further discussion, so he leaves. ]