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.

wrists: (14)

[personal profile] wrists 2022-10-11 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
[ the answer doesn't come, and it doesn't bother him that it doesn't. to know such a thing feels like an unearned intimacy, an assumption made between friends. laurent doesn't have friends. he brings the nut down with force onto the table, cracking it open with a sharp sound. it splits neatly, two halves in his palm, the soft center revealed. ]

Maybe they'll have me pick up bird shit for a year instead. [ he's not as concerned with his looming punishment as he is with the fact that D might be forced to join him. he doesn't want company. ] I doubt it'll be any worse than where I came from.
midway: (67)

[personal profile] midway 2022-10-11 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ You assigned yourself Jeritza.

Wow, Claude is almost touched that D doesn't mind his company. Most people find him annoying after all, which is why he entered this maze alone in the first place.

That said, the night is young. There's time for them to be at each other's throats still. ]


Well, I wasn't quite yet ready to abandon the festivities. Who knows when there will be something jovial to enjoy again; this place is pretty dour, don't you think?
midway: (192)

[personal profile] midway 2022-10-11 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ The impact knocks the breath out of Claude, ears ringing and head spinning from being thrown through the air but he's still quick to struggle to his feet, too aware of the way that he'd bodily slammed into Fukawa, and afraid that he might've broken some of her bones.

Seeing her unconscious doesn't assuage any of her fears. ]


Damn it.

[ Perhaps it's time for a strategic retreat. Surely there's someone in Stygia who could fell this beast? But it's not going to be Claude, gritting his teeth as he hoists Fukawa into his arms, trying his best not to jostle her when he doesn't know the extent of her injuries.

Behind them, the creature turns its burning eyes back in their direction, bony fingers digging into the earth as it begins to crawl in their direction again. ]
terraria: art source: remnim@Twitter (● huff!!)

[personal profile] terraria 2022-10-11 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
Of course it will be worse. You were a prince at home. You would have sp-special accom... acc...

( his nose wrinkles. )

Ugh. I want another drink. ( to which, he promptly gets up - and wobbles, flailing with his wings slightly. he only barely keeps on his feet. ) Do you want one?
terraria: art source: remnim@Twitter (● understanding.)

[personal profile] terraria 2022-10-11 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
( he notes it, nodding slightly to himself. it's not so much of an injury that it needed immediate healing, and for that, he's grateful. he does, however, gently brace the underside of her leg to press around the slash. )

It's no trouble - it's my duty, and a part of my oath besides. Letting you go about unhealed would be irresponsible.

Does the area around it hurt, or is it a localized pain? No itching?
midway: (192)

[personal profile] midway 2022-10-11 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ He lifts a hand to wave when Set recognizes him, a small smile devoid of any joy on his lips. ]

You remember me. I'm flattered.

[ The words are hardly teasing, but that fits their surroundings just fine. Claude pushes away from the tree that he's leaning on, drifting closer to the Set to glance at the blood coating his arms before looking down at the corpses littering their feet. ]

So... they're truly dead? Not like us, who still exist in some form?

[ It's a little weird to think about. Alive but not alive—are they even really dead, if they still have consciousness? ]
midway: (82)

[personal profile] midway 2022-10-11 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ An interesting explanation, to be sure, though one that deepens the frown on his face. ]

So it's not that they lack the intelligence to be reasoned with, but the moral inclination?

[ Which is easy enough to understand. There were plenty of humans that were monsters, lacking empathy or emotion toward their fellows. It's not farfetched that another creature entirely might view their lives as insignificant. ]

If they're not mortal... Then they can't be killed?
seaboard: (⌜𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-10-11 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
She manages to get one hand braced against the wall. Manages to hold herself up as she shudders and chokes. It should not hurt, this was the only gift she had been given in life, her voice. Neither beauty, nor wit, but this and it had been stolen away so surely.

"Water, please, I need...." She gasps back to the poor wretch that mistakenly followed her. Her veil was choking her, smothering her, as she tried to drag in air on her rasping throat.

She'd normally be ashamed, beg him not to look, as she began to snatch the fabric off of her head. Pushing it back and unfurling all those curls, then unwinding it from around her neck and yanking it free.

What was squirming around so unsettlingly was plain, the starfish - a little yellow thing, smooth bumps of a wrapping pattern, a choking bright orange colour, that wraps around her throat. Almost desperately, and it was easy to see why - the scar that lived open, a pulsing cut into that lived below. A wound that had never healed and now, where she had strained it, reaching into the depths of that place - almost like she had ripped it open, it seemed it bled.

And the starfish, strange as it was, held it closed. Gilia helped, as best she could, wrapping her fingers around over the top to hold her neck closed.
wrists: (20)

[personal profile] wrists 2022-10-11 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
Special accommodations. Of course. I'll certainly miss all of those.

[ his pale brows arch up as aspen rises with limited success. ]

You don't need another drink. You could probably do with some food. [ he pushes the open nut to aspen's side of the table. it smells like a normal nut. he hasn't seen anyone on the ground convulsing, anyway. ] Sit down. You look ridiculous.
terraria: art source: remnim@Twitter (● backstep.)

[personal profile] terraria 2022-10-11 01:59 am (UTC)(link)
( ... aspen looks at the nut, and then at laurent. )

Feh. ( that's probably the most petulantly annoyed sound aspen's actually made at laurent. since the world is spinning, he'll sit right back down properly.

when he hesitantly takes a bite - thanks to laurent's warnings, despite... laurent trying to make him eat... - he calms. hesitation turns to enjoyment. )


Mmm - this is about as good as I was expecting!
seaboard: (⌜𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-10-11 02:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ He would have flustered her, so utterly, when she had been younger. She would have been in knots just to have him look upon her. Beautiful in all the ways she hungered to be, and cool and calm as she knew her mother would wish for her to maintain. A mix of jealousy and desire and confrontation of all the things she could not be that would have made her hands shake just to have him look upon her.

But at least that nonsense had left her, the finality that power left behind, as she brought the drink up, uncorking it with a little tug. Her fingers unafraid to touch him as she braced under his chin, knuckles brushing briefly as she framed his features like a holy woman bestowing grace. The drink is foul, bitter and ugly to taste and look at.

But she tips it against his lips like a promise, letting him drink deep, mercilessly, so.

One, two mouthfuls, however much he can manage, before she brings it back to her own lips, and knocks it back in a long mouthful, an agreement that whatever this is, they are doing together.

A hazy, brief smile, before the euphoria hits, and she tumbles and slides away to fall into the hay bale as he had, a mad and sweet laughter that lives and dies in her throat.
]
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

sakura my love...

[personal profile] redsoil 2022-10-11 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
[ The lingering taste of regret sits on his tongue like illness, bitter and heavy. What he sees of the Hierarchy's final moments are their last flickers of memory, of regret and devotion, of a world of brilliant light and the snuffed embers that follow. His hands are slick with their blood, or perhaps his own?, and it has been ten brief lifetimes of agony. Injuries from that wicked blade, from the bite of the horseman's mount itself, a dark stain near his bottom ribs where muscle and bone has gone gnarled from a blow meant primarily for another -- who better to take it than an unstoppable war god?

The young woman who comes to him touches him with such gentle hands, knowing hands.

Rosy-pink hair. Her opening bid to him that of medical concern -- oh, it takes him a moment, as he lifts his head and looks up at her through a fall of red hair, with equally red eyes, lined as dark as the bruises below them, and really. Really, he takes a long, knowing look at her. ]


I know of you. You're Sakura.

[ He remembers her name. She had been first on the message, faithful to her calling. Jonas had mentioned her too, as a talented healer and medic. Firmly, he holds onto the headless defender -- unwilling to part from his own duty to them, even to have his own injuries attended to. ]

-- first, will you help me with them? I can't rest until they do.
terraria: art source: remnim@Twitter (● halfstep.)

[personal profile] terraria 2022-10-11 02:18 am (UTC)(link)
Mmm, exactly. Fae are remarkably smart, often to the detriment of everyone around them. The worst thing you could do is try to make a deal with them, or give them your true name. It simply won't end well.

( he does put a finger against his lower lip. )

I admittedly have never seen anyone try to kill one of the fae - they are akin to holy beings where I lived - but I would think it would be difficult. I know they can live on for many centuries, as the fae I have met know of people from centuries past. Perhaps they can die, but unless killed, will live on forever.
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

IT'S HIM THE MAN IN THE WALLS

[personal profile] redsoil 2022-10-11 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ The sound of the winds waft through the towering stalks, ruffling them in dry bursts of rasping husk and hair. In the distance, a shriek or two of gleeful terror devour the playful roar of challenge. The maze stretches far and wide, and not everyone is in the mood to play nicely -- let alone when the "prey" presents itself so openly to be assaulted. Bruno's call goes without reply, flopping through the heavy copse of vegetable until it is swallowed by the sudden silence.

The sudden, eerie absence of sound.

-- save for that creak, the soft snap of stalk as someone ( something? ) lumbers their way through the maze nearby. The slow plodding of steps becoming the rapid crunch of a sprinting body, the rip of panting, eager breath growing louder and louder as who-whatever is nearby comes crashing through the wall of the maze, aimed directly at Bruno's recently-announced position.

A burst of dark motion, and the wayward Restless explodes past Bruno -- he's all yours! they shout at the nervous man, ducking their head as they bum rush into another section of tightly-packed corn and vanish. It is within seconds of that poor, random-ass person's cry that the predator, the hunter, descends upon the last spot he had heard any noise from.

Set comes from above -- red hair streaming from his shoulders, body curved in an arc as he clears the tops of the corn in a silent, strong leap. Only to come down upon Bruno with a triumphant bellow, nigh-feral and aglow with the thrill of the hunt... ]


What the --

[ BRUNO'S NOT ACTUALLY HIS TARGET, OH NO

too late he just fucking takes the poor guy out as he crash lands on him, like a falcon that's just collided with a mouse without realizing it was even near one ]
philandery: (pic#15159447)

[personal profile] philandery 2022-10-11 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
[ the switchover is so abrupt he doesn't even have time to properly drop her, much less register what exactly is happening. he stops mid-stride, juggling her meager weight for a hot second just to make he doesn't end up careening over and dashing his own skull on the floor.

(maybe that would be a better way to go.)

he tenses when he catches the glint of the scissors under his throat—this close, he can probably smell the metal. (something inside him boils, a strange spark of anger that doesn't feel entirely like his own.)

but he needs to keep calm and figure out what's happening, before he gets his neck sliced open. if she's bothering at all to talk to him he has reason to believe he has some time to figure it out. ]


Hey, easy. Yeah, it's just me.

[ he hasn't quite made the connection yet, between the her profile, their bizarre chatlog, and now this altercation... but he's getting there. his first thought, is that perhaps she's had something strange to eat at the feast. his second, not very far behind, is that maybe this is the work of a shadow. ]
pyojeol: (pic#15727370)

[personal profile] pyojeol 2022-10-11 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
[Sooyoung finds maybe (5) coins and a bunch of candy wrappers. It's what she deserves for trying to rob this poor, clearly dead man. She clicks her tongue, but pockets the money anyway. She leaves the wrappers on the table... littering...]

Technically, we're all dead. [does that make a difference? she doesn't think it does, but she says it anyway.

she ignores the fact that she'd still do this even if she was 'alive'.]


And anyway, someone will definitely loot my corpse when I bite it. The circle of life. Or death, I guess.
prozaic: (004)

[personal profile] prozaic 2022-10-11 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
[given how he's used to his shield, shalem doesn't bow under the weight of another man. he does lean away though, in case what's in his system is alcohol, and he really does not want to smell-- or taste, given his tongue-- that sort of thing.]

Yes, they are. [and he has a tail as well, but he won't be calling attention to that right now. with the way this man is acting, showing him his tail is asking to get it tugged. he has to raise his hand to stop the assault on his ear, so of course he has to protect his tail.]

If you insist on entering, then I might as well join you, and make sure you're safe.
prozaic: (004)

[personal profile] prozaic 2022-10-11 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
Hmmm... Perhaps it's because we didn't expect death to be a factor once more.

[shalem looks up, checking their surroundings to be safe. after all, it doesn't hurt to be overly cautious after what's just happened, right?]

After all, we are already... dead. [no, he wasn't looking for the right word. he was just pausing for the sake of it.] If there are procedures, I would be surprised, but perhaps pleasantly so.
paraselenes: (327)

[personal profile] paraselenes 2022-10-11 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ He politely takes the bag with a quiet thank you, though he sets it down between then as he withdraws (1) nut, going about cracking the outer shell. ]

Yes, we oft celebrated the saints and seasons. People would craft garlands from white roses for Saint Cethleann when the rains began, and host hunting tournaments alongside the fall harvests. Some villages celebrate the migration of pegasi flocks and the first snow of a year. That sort of thing.

[ Though, as the children point out, Zagreus is clearly from a place with plenty of character too. So he cants his head. ]

Did you not have holidays for times like that? Changing of the seasons, and whatnot.
Edited 2022-10-11 02:59 (UTC)
prozaic: (010)

[personal profile] prozaic 2022-10-11 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
No, no. [he shakes his head, before brushing his hair out of his face. he really would like a clip right about now, but he's had to put his money into more important things.] You may stay if you like. I just would rather not... be sung at.

[then a helpless little shrug as he smiles at her wanly.]

Not today.
windsongs: (38)

[personal profile] windsongs 2022-10-11 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ The hand doesn't go unnoticed, her gaze lingering there for a second before finally deciding against it. As irrational as it seems, she can't bring herself to take a helping hand even if she needed it. Nothing against you, Jonas; she has some very specific hang-ups.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the tense energy she holds in her shoulders abates slightly. Good, he's all right. She doesn't know what she would do if someone she knew was hurt. Waving a hand dismissively, a reassuring smile spreads across cracked lips. ]


Not directly, I got this body-blocking for someone else. Don't worry about it, it looks a lot worse than it feels. I'll clean up when I can.

[ The "when I can" could be anywhere between a few minutes from now or when she finally manages to meander back to her door, to lick her wounds in private. He can probably guess which is more likely, especially with the unusual calm she wears like a cloak around her. ]

I'm glad you're okay... to a point. Don't go losing your mind on me, though, okay Jonas?
paraselenes: (71)

[personal profile] paraselenes 2022-10-11 03:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ah, saints—there's someone here. Despite the murky darkness clouding his perception, he has enough sense to be concerned, hurrying forward to make sure the harpy didn't land straight on this poor girl. But in the torchlight, he can clearly see she's all right, though the same can't be said for the harpy near her side.

He raises his hands in front of him, in what he hopes is an amenable gesture, no longer armed. ]


Hold—I mean you no harm.

[ Though he doesn't approach, his gaze travels to the harpy, which beats its good wing with fruitless anger, sending up puffs of dirt and deadened leaves. ]

But you should move, miss.

[ An injured beast is all the more likely to lash out, and the harpies have talons that are meant for rending flesh off bone. ]
pissoffbook: (pic#15016225)

Knock on Wood (You're still free to tag into mine for the singing, but this one caught me.)

[personal profile] pissoffbook 2022-10-11 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[The punch is literally caught by a strong hand, one that shouldn't have such a strength in such a small stature. Her expression is neutral as the blonde apologizes. Kainé releases her and shoulders the sword she carries in her other hand.]

You're lucky I didn't take your goddamn head.
pyojeol: (pic#15727370)

PICKS TOKO UP

[personal profile] pyojeol 2022-10-11 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[LOOK SHE SAID SOME????? also she loves lemon sweets]

Look, it's not like I tried all of them? Just saw other people eating them. I think one of these makes you hallucinate? And the candies kill you, but like not really.

[SO INFORMATIVE, WOW]

But the cake's fine. If you're gonna eat anything, then at least eat that.
prozaic: (010)

have mercy uwu

[personal profile] prozaic 2022-10-11 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
[his saviour. perhaps in sour armour rather than a shining one, but really now, better than leaving shalem alone to deal using failing politeness.

though he does raise his hands as if to ward off this man too.]


I would rather not resort to that sort of thing, especially at a time like this. But... thank you.

[really, he's grateful.]