oblivium: (Default)
nightfell mods ([personal profile] oblivium) wrote in [community profile] logs2022-10-06 01:15 pm

MOD EVENT #001

A CHAOTIC RESPITE


It isn't rare for the seasons in the Netherworld to be a little erratic, though many days have passed now without much of a hint of its typical mercuriality, a good and a bad omen all at once. This respite is commonly referred to as the proverbial "calm before the storm", but it also marks the beginning of merrier celebrations. The Moons above are gilded silver, the twilight sky edged with faint pink and orange -- a sunrise phantasm, spilling over the horizon. It's an infrequent spectacle, accompanied by a dulcet breeze and light drizzles that seem to encourage growth nearly everywhere. Unfortunately, under its influence, people seem a little on edge, quick to anger, but no matter; around Stygia, Restless have begun hanging decorations and ornaments on trees and windowsills, left to catch the moonlight and give off marigold and ginger glows, warmly lighting up the city. Rather than fish, the smell of freshly ground spices permeates the air in the Harbors, Mirth keeps its doors opened to all, but just before the festivities officially begin, a cacophony of chimes resounds all over, a transmission difficult to ignore.

On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...

“The woods... Oakwoods! They've come alive! O-One minute he was complaining about the water seeping into his boots, and the next he was... he was being yanked up into the trees! We didn’t see what happened to him, but we heard... the screams, ohh, the screams. Please! Come to Serene, I beg you. This is our safest sanctuary, and the lan... oh, no... wait, no, please... please... NOOO--”


...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?

► I. KNOCK ON WOOD (OH PUCK, HE'S HOT!)
When you cross the gates of Serene, an old woman welcomes you, palm flat against her chest and disquiet in her eyes. Myrtille, her name. Oakwoods loom dense and dark in the distance behind her, groaning low as leaves rustle without wind. The Mourning Lantern was stolen, and malevolence rose in turn, dooming them all.

“It was once kept here, a sacred Artifact crafted from the bones of Serene's first founder, who gave her heart’s blood willingly to the woods in an act of contrition. It's the absence of the lantern that is contributing to the wood’s unusually active malice, and if you lot cannot retrieve it, then we must sacrifice another. Go! Take these torches and go, before Oakwoods swallow us whole.”


So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.

It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.

► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.

No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.

Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you:
I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?


If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.

the answer to the riddle is sparsely! it's up to you whether you'd like your character to fail.
legends told around the campfire can be any of the ones mentioned above or any other that might strike your fancy! go wild, have fun!
remember that if you pick an item from your character's world as their boon, it'll eventually disintegrate unless reforged with a soul.
.


► II. GO BIG OR GOURD HOME
Welcome to the Frightful Harvest, a festival that marks the beginning of the Respite, a temporary period of tranquility between seasons. It acknowledges the blessings offered and the role that both good and evil play in the Netherworld. It is a time to give thanks, but more importantly, it is a time of reflection and warding. Warding against not only the darkness of the next seasons to come, but of the nefarious creatures and struggles that will undoubtedly follow.

Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.

“Let us gather, feast, dance and celebrate. Let us hold our glasses high for those who heroically perished, for goodness, and for the Ascended. May their journey inspire us to change our lives and the lives of others, to resist evil, and to triumph. To you, dear friends!”


And without further ado, let the festivities begin!

► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.

► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.
Firstdawn Tea: This revitalizing crimson tea soothes the mind and body and is brewed from the roots of the dawn flower, which only sprouts during the Respite.
Grablenuts: These fist-sized brown nuts have a hard, stippled outer shell and soft, delicious spicy centers. A single bite will slightly lower your inhibitions, and you may find yourself seeking proximity and warmth.
Elysium: A nonalcoholic beverage that smells and looks as bad as it tastes. Only those with the strongest will manage to gulp it down. Once drunk, the person experiences true bliss, which seems to last for hours; in reality, it's only a few minutes.
Will-o-the-Whiskey: Whisky with minor hallucinatory effects, visual and auditory.
Sundrop: A pound cake coated in a sugary lemon drizzle. No side-effects, just delicious!
Shadowfell Candy: Chewing on this candy will grant the character a deep and rejuvenating sleep, during which they will appear dead to anyone.
. ► HARVEST HUNT
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.

► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.

► III. WAYWARD SUN
The Warding Ritual is a private affair, a behind-the-scene execution on the last day of the festival as you dance and feast and frolic, blissfully unaware. Something goes awry. First, a shriek in the distance, and soon, birds flying away in apparent surprise as the landscape rustles with the sounds of creatures and Restless alike fleeing. A vague sense of dread knocks the air out of your lungs, an iron grip around your throat. And you see it then, a headless figure shrouded in a black veil of cloth, sword in one hand and a bright flaming pumpkin in the other. Its head. It thunders through the night on its skeletal horse, its blade flashing in the moonlight in search of prey. Heads fall. You might get injured during the chase -- collateral damage. 10 members of the Hierarchy won't ever rise again, and the rider eventually charges into the Tempest, leaving behind bloody puddles and a slather of confusion. If you opt to help clean up the mess, you might come across stained sheets of paper on the ground, a painting of a white scorpion in the middle. Otherwise, it's time for you to go home.


ooc note

► Welcome to Nightfell's first event! If you'd like additional, more casual prompts, the Notice Board is right here! New prompts will be added next month, if you've already had your fun with them!
You'll find some answered questions here, but if you'd like to ask something else, please comment below!
For a little spooky ambience in the woods.

zauneyete: (I'm still around bitches)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2022-11-12 07:20 pm (UTC)(link)
You would think... And yet...

[ He gestured outward. ] It's just me.

[ There was, of course, Talis, and Viktor, but Silco didn't know who he was but they weren't Zaunites. ]

Odd, isn't it? You would think our enemies or our bitter fallen would arrive here too.
coherer: the wrong things (pic#15578478)

[personal profile] coherer 2022-11-12 07:28 pm (UTC)(link)
(resting in naruto's lap, jonas, close to oblivium but not enough to feel the existential horror of its grasp, has a dream.

it's simple and sweet, and it goes like this: in a crowd of people who look down on him, faces smiling, jonas is celebrated as though he's been accepted into their family. with the exception of distant cheers, there is no sound. he's laid his head across the warm thighs of a friend and their insistent hands are on his chest and then his face. for the first time in a long time, he feels held, and in the hold, he feels safe. there is no egg to crawl from, no tempest to brave, no stygian harbour to wander. loneliness doesn't exist in this brief shangri-la, heart pounding so heavily with a reciprocated longing that it feels as though his lungs might collapse.

then it culminates in a kiss.

a mouth presses against him, soft lips shaped to fit lips his; jonas' eyes open to noctis, bent and breathing into him. the direness in noctis' expression doesn't register as concern, nor does the clinical way he's being touched register as aid. it's considered an intimate favour and returned gently, jonas raising his head an inch from the ground.

it's only when fingers slide into feathery hair that alertness comes to him all at once in an awful rush.
)

What the hell?
fessus: (Yoshi's Story)

[personal profile] fessus 2022-11-12 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't, I'm just trying smth. And look, it got me to meet you so there we go, never would've had this great advice thrown at me otherwise

[ Later he will reflect on his first experience with alcohol and realize that it has the unintended side effect of making him incredibly sassy. ]

I get it tbh I stopped eating anything, that's not the main point. The main point is food or not I haven't heard of anyone trying anything so why not
telepathy: (16)

[personal profile] telepathy 2022-11-12 08:11 pm (UTC)(link)
You got it. On the ...

[ she pulls her phone out of her pocket, at a loss for the word. then she points to her chest with the phone. ]

Mavis. [ as she tucks it away, she takes the cob from him. this seems like the one thing she is easily familiar with, for she strips the husk in a way that's smooth and practiced. ]
fessus: (Wipeout)

[personal profile] fessus 2022-11-12 08:52 pm (UTC)(link)
I wanna' be surprised but it's hard to be...

[ The words are muttered under his breath, something of a defense mechanism as usual. The truth is he's uncomfortable even envisioning it, unaccustomed to environments in which drugs are commonplace. He's lived a sanitized existence as a royal, a fact he knows well even if he'd deny it sooner than bring it up. ]

Are they common because you live the kinda' life where you'd be around them or is it just where you're from?
fessus: (Tigger's Honey Hunt)

his best angles

[personal profile] fessus 2022-11-12 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Their body language is telling an undeniable story but it isn't one that Noctis is reading. Being prone has the side effect of leaving him less to focus on, so other past side effects – all but worn off – are over-staying their welcome. He's comfortable here... and he can't suspect Jonas of anything when he's too preoccupied trying to hide his own spark of happiness.

It's embarrassing, isn't it? To enjoy his company this much in this moment? His struggles with openness leave him unable to express his excitement fully but he can allow that feeling into himself without the guilt catching up to it just yet. It's been a bad day, a bad week, and a devastating month. This pocket of time should be okay. The way Jonas smiles at him, and the warmth it gives him without a single touch, should be okay.
]

... are you explaining chips to me? [ A hand drops onto his face to rub at one eye as he does his very best not to smile. ] Great, now I want some... but anyway...

Strict is one way to say it. I guess more like... I mean, yeah, strict. But my dad had kind of a big social life. So doing something that could end up bad and visibly bad wasn't really an option.

I guess you asking means it's not your first time?
nagano: all manga bases by <user name=dresspheres site=tumblr> (▶ riding on the wind)

[personal profile] nagano 2022-11-12 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
The...?

[ For once, Kaito's curiosity is easily trumped—by realization. ]

Oh shit! You're Mavis! I remember our chat. [ Something distinctly bright seems to illuminate Kaito's aura, to the point that it shines through the obfuscating veil he took the effort of raising earlier. A tinge of... relief? Happiness? Both?

Irrelevant in the end, as he just flat out grins while shucking his own corn with a familiarity unhindered by his leather gloves. ]


I was wondering if I'd ever hear from you again, but look at this. We get to meet in person!

[ A beat. His smile turns somewhat apologetic. ]

How's your head feeling?
fallingsand: (18;)

[personal profile] fallingsand 2022-11-12 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, so now he'd be going from simply aiding and abetting to also breaking and entering. Exciting! Also terrible, very terrible. Bruno hesitated, lingering outside to stare after Silco through the doorway but after a moment of nervous fidgeting, he rallied the courage to hurry through and shut the door behind them.

A door left open for no apparent reason was doubly suspicious or... he assumed it was, anyway.
]
exilire: <user name="squarebox"> (pic#15885162)

[personal profile] exilire 2022-11-12 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
You didn't, but that might be why it just affected me faster.

[ and more intensely, made obvious by the way she can't seem to keep her hands to herself — her thumb presses down gently on his lower lip, parting it just slightly from the upper one, her gaze fixed on his mouth now instead of his eyes.

she wets her own lips. ]


...You don't have to be afraid of it.
fallingsand: (26;)

[personal profile] fallingsand 2022-11-12 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Even though she repeats his given title as seriously as any other, it still sounds silly to him. While it truly was the only title he could ever lay claim to, it wasn't as if he went around introducing himself like that normally and, frankly, anyone else from his village might reject the notion. They didn't exactly want him as their weird local prophet, after all...

But it's been said and there's no taking it back now. He'll have to go on with it, even if it's only ever for Gilia.

"Priesthood?" Now that gets a puzzled look from him. "O-oh, well, my. My family tries not to claim that God gave us our gifts, I... guess? Even though we do call where our powers come from a miracle, so I think that means... no priesthood... at all?"
arrancar: (004)

[personal profile] arrancar 2022-11-13 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
Side effects? ( what side effects? he already said that he wasn't allergic to nuts. ) Is there more to it than an allergic reaction?

( he didn't get duped, did he?

narrowing his eyes at both the boy and the cake in his hand, he dismisses the proffered treat with a flick of his wrist. oddly enough, he doesn't seem bothered by the hand still rested on his back. he wrinkles his nose in displeasure.
)

I'm not eating anymore. ( he will just have to grab whatever looks ok and bring it back to the shadowlands with him. maybe skip the grablenuts. )
damnpire: (pic#12040373)

[personal profile] damnpire 2022-11-13 12:09 am (UTC)(link)
[At first, he starts to think of it like a problem that should be fixed, but then he realizes maybe that's not true, or not what's wanted. Perhaps Hibiki doesn't need or want to be "fixed"; she simply hears a voice that sings.]

No one else should hear it because it's dangerous?

[It's not an assumption so much as a legitimate question.]
wrists: (19)

this is going very badly for him lol

[personal profile] wrists 2022-11-13 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ laurent goes still when kaine's hand suddenly touches him. it's less pleasurable than completely disorienting, because it's exceedingly rare for anyone to lay hands on him in this way. he'd nearly killed damen for doing so. he lifts his chin stubbornly even as his cheeks color with embarrassment. ]

I doubt you want me to fondle your body. [ he follows after her, catching up so that they're walking side by side through the crowded parade. ] Some of it is unfamiliar, since it's very female, but some of it I can handle just fine.

[ which is also veering toward a lie, because though he doesn't sleep with women, he also doesn't exactly have experience with men. ]
seaboard: (⌜𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-11-13 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
The words all blur together for her, miracle, saint, spirit and spirit-bonds all roughly translating the same as it stands, so she nods in somewhat understanding. Smaller bonds of less established families did not necessarily have the numbers to form such groups. So she nods, frowning a moment, then wetting her lips in a thought of curiosity.

"... May I ask you something, all the same?"
fallingsand: (18;)

[personal profile] fallingsand 2022-11-13 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
"Ask me something?" Bruno echoes the question out loud, wondering. What could a queen possibly have to ask him? Or perhaps it was unkind to think of Gilia as only 'a queen'. She seemed a kind person all on her own, titles or no.

"Sure. I don't mind. Unless it's... just. Just don't ask about romance. Things always go worse than usual when people ask about romance."
seaboard: (⌜𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-11-13 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
That - stops her and genuinely makes her laugh a moment. A mistake, because she just begins to cough again and has to take a second to choke it back down.

"You are safe, Master Madrigal, I am quite beyond those concerns." The still-bemused smile crinkling a moment before she turns serious again. "... How do you manage when you... when you ... see? How do you... help it from overwhelming you?"
fallingsand: (39;)

[personal profile] fallingsand 2022-11-13 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
Bruno takes a step forward at the coughing, concern coloring his face briefly, but then it subsides and she continues to seem as well as one could hope for after bleeding water from the throat. He should be more careful, he scolds inwardly, although what she asks... how unexpected.

"How do I manage? I... don't, sometimes," he admits after a pause to think. "The ones that come to me without me even asking are rough but. But I did make up my own little ritual as a child to help control the ones I wanted to have."
boarwitness: (Don't need no one else)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-11-13 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
[at the suspicious look, he scoffs. he's being good!!!]

Eat. Then sleep.

So don't feel like you have to follow me.
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

cw hints of sexual trauma.....

[personal profile] redsoil 2022-11-13 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
You realize that you are the first human I've really come to know, don't you?

[ Some part of Jonas must recognize it now, having been swallowed up within Set's divine nature, within the boundless might of his body; even demoted as he is, his powers cannot fully be severed from him, save by un-creating him entirely. They remain with Egypt, tethered to him and immutable even by whatever state of death or undeath he exists in. It must have been hell for Jonas, to be confronted by such a vast existence, the eldritch crawl of timelessness and purity of form.

He doesn't know mortal life, nor has he really ever grown attached to humans. Jonas is among the first, perhaps even the first. He knew his generals and warriors, but not in the way that he's come to look upon Jonas Ward. In this admission, he aims to avoid answering Jonas entirely; he would rather reach his fingers into his own neck and rip himself apart, than dwell on the truth of his murderous nature. He would rather throw himself into the abyss of the sea beyond Stygia's harbor, than tell anyone what happened. To imagine Jonas's gentleness twisting into disgust -- he cannot stand that thought any more than he can stand the thought of Nephthys's agony if she were to realize her husband was no man. ]


Look at me, Jonas.

[ It is with those murderous hands that he reaches for Jonas's jaw, to tip the young man's face upward. To look him in the eye. ]

Divine nature is unlike that of humans. We are or we are not, there is no mutability the way there is for you. You felt it, in the way that I felt all that you have. Potential, capability for change, such sweet freedoms. And I am a god of great wickedness and violence, but I promise -- I will not bring you harm.
craters: (Screenshot 2022-09-16 185645)

[personal profile] craters 2022-11-13 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
I wasn't going to. You'll keep your word.

is... is that a promise or a threat??? hard to say with her. but she does give him a nod.

Have a good night, Felix.

and then she's gone in that same little flicker of motion as before. this is totally on purpose. sorry, felix.
boarwitness: ('Cause it just makes me want to cry)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-11-13 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
Hey--

[aaaand she's gone. he makes a disgruntled sound, shaking his head, before finally turning off, stalking back towards the feast.

whatever. that girl is whatever.]
paraselenes: (51)

[personal profile] paraselenes 2022-11-13 08:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's a last flicker of unrestrained emotion on his end—guilt. Regret for even considering indulging his darker impulses, for thinking that causing pain might bring about peace. But it's a complicated spiral, two warring sides that circle each other without gaining ground, and when Felix speaks again the floodgate begins to shut.

Because thankfully, the Elysium makes something mild out of Felix's reactions and emotions, and through their bond (one he's certain of now, but refuses to speak to), it helps him leash his own, settling slowly into something more old and weary, the quiet aftermath of a harsh buzz of feelings. But he's sure that Felix is returning to his usual self, too. He can hear it in the fresh terseness of his words, curt and demanding even if they lack a sharp edge.

It's actually an oath he could see his own Felix forcing at him, though his answer in either case would be the same. Wearily, stubbornly, ]


I cannot promise that.

[ He won't make an oath he'd certainly break. ]

I will do what I can to better our situation, and that of those around us. But this is who I am.

[ He's never claimed that Felix was wrong about him. Even if he makes wiser choices, causes less heartache, saves more lives—Felix is asking for something else. He's looking at him and wishing that Dimitri could grow into someone else, some version of him that died years ago. But no promise can bring that person back, and he isn't willing to make it. ]
boarwitness: (I can sabotage me by myself)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-11-13 12:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[as the wash of emotions unbelonging begins to taper off with a final wave of guilt, and felix exhales, long and low, unaware he'd been holding it. something was settling it all, at least—good for both of them, if this was to be their burden.

until he answers.

it's not that it's unexpected—on the contrary, he should have known better, driving for an ultimatum like that. but there's a part of him that can't help but demand it, attempt to force dimitri's hand on it—and he can't help his reaction, either. there's only a momentary flicker on felix's face—a shadow of absolute fury—before it's gone again, his expression returning to stony-faced anger, teeth gritted.

within, it manifests as the mental equivalent of a sudden fist slammed violently into a wall—a venting, with multitude feeling wrapped into one gut-punch of a blow. there was rage, certainly, but other things wrapped around them, tangled and broken—grief, guilt, frustration—then a pulse of determination. but as suddenly as it appears, it's suppressed again, wrapped in a curtain of glowering ambivalence—either from felix's own coping, or the realization that he wouldn't be the only one feeling this.

expression still hard, he stands, eyes burning into dimitri.]


I should have known.

[his voice is quiet, dangerously calm, last dregs of elysium evaporated.]

It's pointless to talk to a wild animal, regardless of what shape it takes.

[and without waiting for a response, felix turns, striding away quick enough that his half-cloak flutters behind him. he suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here.]
coherer: from my chest to my head (pic#15578448)

[personal profile] coherer 2022-11-13 03:13 pm (UTC)(link)
(they dive where the monster can no longer see them, zagreus' tracks ending where he's leapt. it's a good idea; running straight through and out of the corn rows would've been flagged as cheating. while jonas could easily take the loss on that one, forcing that outcome on his friend would be selfish and unfair.

so, in the nook jonas stays with a hand over his mouth to stifle his passing fit of laughter.

only when it's totally quiet does he hear his own heart beating rhythmically in his ears. the adrenaline feels like a blessing bestowed on him by some stygian benefactor, because it stems his fear and makes hiding away with zagreus thrilling, exciting. even as the skeleton approaches to be fooled by the abrupt end to the footprints and jonas must stare through stalks' leaves at it looming just beyond their hideaway, there's a smirk on his face.

he meets zagreus' eyes. slowly, jonas sinks to a knee in front of him.

and picking up a rock from between corn rows to weigh in his hand, the distraction is thrown parallel to the monster's path. it reacts immediately, smoke billowing from its mask's mouth, tearing back through the maze; soon they're alone again where all sound seems to halt.
)

... Do you... Do you think it's gone?
coherer: 'cause you will never understand (pic#15578498)

[personal profile] coherer 2022-11-13 03:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, really. Well, lucky you, even if it's gonna cost you more to have a good time. The drinks are free right now, though, so I'd capitalize on that if I were you.

(and jonas has be capitalizing on it. there's a red bloom on his cheeks that seems to have been there since the frightful harvest began.

"drugged" may be an understatement. colours look brighter, voices sound smoother—
)

I think all of this is laced. I think the food got screwed with, too.