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.

nagano: all manga bases by <user name=dresspheres site=tumblr> (▶ i've lived another day again)

no rest for weary psychics 8)

[personal profile] nagano 2022-10-11 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ How wrong Kaito was to think that the lapse in his powers' efficacy would dull the clanging and jackhammering and exploding cacophony of these ghouls' emotions.

Every sensation bleeds into him, from everywhere, and all at once. Rueful loners glaring with seething jealousy at passersby. Couples undressing each other with their eyes. Swathes of children making merry (they're the worst, he grumbles to himself).

He's just glad he can't hear their thoughts, or he might just— ]


...Puke?

[ An aura with a distinct tinge of misery flares up in his periphery, prompting golds to flick in its general direction just in time to watch some girl bending over and... Well, he can't see her face past the lip of the trash can, but it doesn't take a genius to guess. Against his own mounting nausea and better judgment, Kaito shuffles his way over.

Hm.

Why is he feeling like his balance is going further to shit with each subsequent step?

Oh.

It isn't until he's within shoulder tapping range of the stranger (and nearly about to lose his own stomach) that he realizes his folly. A hint of everyone else's auras seeps out from her own. She's either another empath or someone else who can read the crowd, and her suffering is now feeding directly into his own. ]


Urp... Was gonna ask if you were okay... But I think I know... the answer.

[ Seal your aura, seal your aura—

H̴O̸L̷Y̶ ̴F̵U̷C̷K̶I̸N̸G̶ ̷S̷H̷I̴T̴ ̴B̴L̷O̵C̷K̶ ̶Y̵O̵U̶R̷ ̵A̸U̷R̶A̸ ̸B̵E̶F̸O̵R̵E̵ ̷S̷H̶E̴ ̶R̵E̸A̴D̵S̷ ̷U̵S̴ ̷A̶N̸D̸ ̵I̶T̴ ̵F̶E̴E̵D̵S̴ ̴B̵A̷C̶K̷ ̷I̷'̵M̸ ̶G̵O̶I̵N̷G̶ ̴T̵O̵ ̵L̸I̸T̶E̶R̵A̵L̶L̴Y̴ ̴T̷H̴R̴O̷W̶ ̵U̸P̵ ̴R̷I̷G̷H̷T̴ ̸N̸O̶W̴

Luckily his thoughts are already garbled as is, but his Shadow's outburst is unfortunately mostly intelligible through the haze. ]
prozaic: (009)

[personal profile] prozaic 2022-10-11 08:29 am (UTC)(link)
[she can think what she wants, because the more she assumes, the more shalem can keep the truth hidden-- if she sang, what would stop people from joining in, and what would stop them from encouraging him to join in?

and then what would stop him from giving in to his shadow and to his own bloodthirsty desires and turn these waters red? being able to indulge in creating art is his dream, but if it were to trigger his change into the murderer he was raised to be? no.]


My thanks-- and apologies. I'm not... experienced in fishing, and while chatter would be good to fill the void, I do need to concentrate if a fish decides to bite.
nagano: (i stopped falling for your disguise)

[personal profile] nagano 2022-10-11 09:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ Kami, she's quick—but not impossibly so. He can adjust the velocity of his next spell. However, it's her retort that leaves him frustrated.

What a pain in the ass. He doesn't even have time to psychoanalyze her, not when she's already drawn blood from the fae.

W̷h̸a̵t̶ ̸i̴s̴ ̸t̶h̵e̷r̷e̶ ̸t̵o̷ ̴a̵n̴a̶l̴y̴z̸e̷?̸ ̸S̷h̷e̵'̸s̸ ̷j̸u̵s̴t̷ ̴p̶s̴y̶c̵h̸o̸,̵ ̷h̴a̷h̶a̸h̷a̶!̸!̴!̵

Ugh. ]


We need his lantern, that's what! You trying to snip his neck is making our job harder!

[ A hand-sized orb of water spawns in front of Kaito's face. He snatches it, reels back, and blurts out: ]

So take a chill pill!!

[ His arm snaps forward as if all its muscles had been coiled tighter than wound springs. The orb hurtles toward Syo at blistering speeds, easily tripling that of the net from earlier.

If it impacts, it won't be painful... per se. On contact with any surface, the ball will explode, splatter and stick—like a very restrictive slime. Ew.

At least it smells nice? ]
dodgeouttahell: (29)

[personal profile] dodgeouttahell 2022-10-11 10:13 am (UTC)(link)
A war? [Oh, look, magic powers. That's something that Zag wouldn't be able to do, even if those he grew up with have some sort of similar ability, and he thinks he'd never get tired of it.

He chuckles, slightly bashful. When putting things this way, everything about his endeavors feels small, especially in contrast with eternity.
] Not quite. I was just bad at my work, and she was very strict. I suppose we were both under a lot of pressure. Nothing dangerous like that. [Although they kept killing each other at each escape attempt of his later.]
dodgeouttahell: (4)

[personal profile] dodgeouttahell 2022-10-11 10:32 am (UTC)(link)
'Ruined'? How so? [He does understand that rules change; you don't just get mentored by Achilles without learning how situational violence works. But Zagreus knows that each death is a weight added to a mortal and how differently they approach it.

Walking carefully over bone and dry flesh, he waits for a glimpse of violet, strident fuchsia on butterfly wings. Zag can't feel souls the way his chthonic counterparts do, but he feels blood and life force as though trying to harmonize with his own.

He finds nothing, an echo of emptiness only.
] There's mine, though.
boarwitness: (I try to keep going)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-11 11:30 am (UTC)(link)
[is she scared or combative??? there's a lot to reply to there, so he just cherrypicks an answer to the whole thing.]

Which is better? Finding out? Or sitting around and panicking about the unknown?
boarwitness: (I can sabotage me by myself)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-11 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
[even as single-minded as he is at the moment, it's hard for him to hide the surprise that she didn't even dodge—just stood there and took it head (or at least, side) on. then she locks it down, and he can't even draw it. there's an awkward couple of seconds as he hopelessly scrabbles to pull the sword out of her grasp, like an angry cat scratching at a closed door. then, suddenly, he starts—and stumbles back a few steps, crossing his arms in a swordless petulence.

there's another beat of him just glaring back at her, before he finally replies:]


No.

[maybe what happened didn't, actually!]
m67: (pic#15948013)

go big or go gourd!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 11:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ something . . . pulls her. asa can't actually define what it is that does, and it's certainly not the food (as lovely as it looks, it all is just absolutely suspicious to her). in earlier times, she'd be quite bitter about so many jovial festivities in the realm of the dead, but it comes to her attention that it could be much, much worse. she gives it a shot, then. not the integration but at the very least check it out with her own eyes. she doesn't offer much immediate focus to the people around her, especially with yoru babbling into her brain: eat and socialize. you need to make more friends, remember? don't waste our time or i'll kill you again— ]

Oh, shut up— Is that the only threat you can make when we're dead?

[ she manages, right as the girl next to her speaks her mind. asa notices seconds too late, immediately painting dark pink across her face. it's worse when she recognizes the girl. she looks away, but she recognizes her. from a dream or—?


oh. it's her, yoru says, nonchalant. asa, on the other hand, could feel her gut ice over.


that wasn't a dream. oh no. ]
boarwitness: Caught in the Middle - Paramore (I can't think of getting old)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-11 11:50 am (UTC)(link)
Either he gives me the lantern, or he gets cut in half. Simple.

[the offer of indulgence is rejected outright. Puck makes a "what's his problem" gesture, and appeals to Joonghyuk instead. what about you, my friend? perhaps you might be more amenable?

felix flicks his blade, waving the two of them apart.]


No. He's not involved. This is between you and me.
dreamlords: (o7KJNq2)

[personal profile] dreamlords 2022-10-11 12:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ his immediate response is to tell her that she doesn't know what he's thinking because she's not a minder reader and he knows that he doesn't let his expressions show up on his face.

but then she does guess exactly what he's thinking and he frowns. it had probably been obvious though considering the aura around the man.

he eats another one of the nuts in his hand, chewing on it to give him time to figure out what he wants to say. as he does, he feels the warm feeling increase once again and his frown deepens. ]


Don't you? ( want to talk to him, that is. )
boarwitness: (Caught in the middle)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-11 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[felix's eyes flit from the bottle, to dimitri's outstretched hand, and back again—then narrow antagonistically.]

No.

[there's a beat of silence after his singular reply, but before dimitri can reach over and simply take the bottle himself, felix snatches it up

and chugs it.

it's far from a smooth process—the smell is truly terrible, and the taste even worse for it. felix is clearly struggling, as much as he tries to hide it, but he gets a solid big gulp™ of it down before slamming the bottle back on to the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove.]


There. [his tone is acerbic, even as his face greys.] Now go away, and--

[and what? dimitri will never know, because felix stops mid-sentence (again, this is becoming a theme in their interactions) and gasps—before falling into an awed hush, eyes wide.]
m67: (pic#15980864)

strangers with candy!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 12:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[ asa has finally gotten her hands on a cup of tea that looked the least aberrant out of all the mind-altering foods. she is . . . calm. it's so nice. it's possibly the calmest she's ever been in her anxiety-ridden bully-magnet life. she does seem to eye the downed man in a candy coma, but if the other said he's fine, then— ]

That's nice. [ it's warm. it's sweet. she could just look around for days. yoru is quiet. everything is pretty good. she needs more of these roots. where do you find these things to brew? the girl inhales the steam from her cup, and after a moment decides to add: ] He looks dead.

[ apparently, this is okay though! ]
boarwitness: (I can sabotage me by myself)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-11 12:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[sylvain's appearance, and subsequent shoulder leaning has the immediate effect of souring felix's expression even further.]

Please. We're not children anymore. I'm not going to drink something just because you dared me to.

[he flicks his bangs out of his face, and holds the bottle up to sylvain.]

Why don't you do the honors, if you're so interested?
m67: (pic#15947978)

go gourd!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 12:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[ asa sits quietly on the opposite side of this very bench mavis has supported herself upon, inwardly cringing at the sound of someone losing either their breakfast or lunch or . . . whatever, right next to her. she pretends she isn't seeing or hearing, or scenting the acrid odor rising from the trashcan. part of her wants to reach out and help. the other part is uncertain of the ifs or whys. she considers leaving from her spot, she's not doing anything anyway, socializing isn't her strong point and she's just the ugliest wallflower here, but a voice not from her mouth speaks before she can strain an inch of her body to get up.

don't move, idiot. it's your chance to talk to someone.

she's probably just drunk.

and? talk to her.

. . .

or do you want me to?

asa rights her back immediately and awkwardly set her hands on her knees. fear and embarrassment surges through her before she finally musters the courage to speak up and say, without maintaining eye contact with the other girl: ]


Are you . . . Okay?
boarwitness: (Don't need no one else)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-11 12:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[there's no attempt to hide his scoff at the remark—a kind of bait that even he wouldn't fall for.]

If I had the chance to face her in battle, she'd be here, too. Whatever killed me did it the coward's way.

[still seated, he crosses his arms, sizing the other man up—before shaking his head.]

If you have something you want to talk about, then talk.
m67: (pic#15947880)

feast!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 01:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ asa mitaka, above all, is a clutz with the worst luck. taking some food for herself with the same intention in mind (stock up on food she'd eat without anything spoiling— could things spoil here? best not to ask too many questions). her dress snags on one of the stands and yanks her from her momentum— her grablenuts spill from the little sack she's hoarded them in, and the napkin-wrapped sundrop pound cakes fall to the ground. what's worse is that her heel rolls on top of the scattered nuts and throws her legs into the air, first one then the other.

the rest of her slams down hard. the cake cushions her fall, but leaves an ugly feeling splat against her back. when she lifts her eyes to check the damage, she wished that she hadn't. in fact, she wishes she could disappear.

asa wasn't the only downed package, but the entire stand that snagged her dress, now torn, has taken down a stand of cakes with it, possibly even throwing a few onto other people, be it their faces or feet. the merchant glowers and turns red with fury, while asa— asa turns ghost white. ]
m67: (pic#15954446)

3d!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 01:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ asa was only observing, but easily does her glance cast sideways and away from the other when she's been found. take them from him, really—? ]

I wouldn't take things from your plate . . .

[ but— she does watch to wait if it's really okay to take the cakes. she's been seeing people act weird, as of late. the candy made one dude look dead. the tea made her too calm, before— was it a weed? she'll call the police. ]
dodgeouttahell: (23)

[personal profile] dodgeouttahell 2022-10-11 01:26 pm (UTC)(link)
I did. Seems like you've been busy. [A tilt of his head, now that he looks at her truly, focused on her.] If it wasn't the rider, what happened to you, Hibiki?

[He withdraws his hand and clenches his fist around the blood-red crystal, drawing it back with a wince.] Don't. It can hurt you. [Swallowing something heavy in his throat, he clears it. Then he opens his hand again, and the crystal is gone.]It's just something I do. I can't really explain.
m67: (pic#15947980)

mirthful celebrations (1)!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 01:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[ a young girl, at most nearing eighteen years of life, could be seen beelining away from the semi-crowded stocks of supplies and luxury sweets in a mess. there're cake crumbs in her hair, soot smearing her hands and staining her rear. a wet spot and lingering bits of sundrop stick her dress from the back where she fell on them, face red with embarrassment and eyes stinging with the close temptation to cry. perhaps scream into a pillow more than cry. she just wants to . . . be as far away from civilization as possible. she doesn't actually want to be, but maybe it's for the best. it was ridiculous. into the eerie area of an empty, creaking amusement park, asa finds a quiet, lonely spot to sit herself down and check her coin.

completely empty. the merchant yelling about his disrupted and ruined stand on sundrop cake wouldn't let it go until she did something about her mess. all she did was trip. and fall. and take out an entire stand of food with her. the eyes on her, judgemental and jeering all at once—

not even when she's dead do things change. the girl hangs her head low and stares at her empty lap. broke. no food. no supplies. no friends. ]


It's all the same . . . [ not even when she tries. her eyes swell and burn, so does her nose. she's glad no one is around to hear her breathing squeak and shudder. yoru is there with her, always there. the entity only crosses her arms and tsks at her. yoͦuͧ'́rͬeͤ рⷬaͣᴛⷮhͪeͤᴛⷮiͥcͨ, says her shadow. that wasn't me, but they're right, says yoru. don't you want me to do something about it?

silently, asa just shakes her head. it's not as if anyone would notice. ]
m67: (pic#15947971)

1b!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 01:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ "hot". yoru lifts a lip like a dog would tempt a snarl. she doesn't know what that means beyond the literal sense, and puck was not literally scorching? how stupid. ]

I say we kill him.

[ and that's that. ]
dodgeouttahell: (25)

[personal profile] dodgeouttahell 2022-10-11 02:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[The nut is so loud when he chews inside his head that he must stop doing so for a moment to hear what Dimitri is saying. It sounds lovely, white flowers and garlands, something he believes his birthmother would enjoy, and hunting tournaments across the woods. It all feels very distant and utopic. The irony of thinking such while he comes from divinity is not lost on him.] That sounds delightful. Did you participate?

[A particularly hard bite breaks the nut in his mouth in two with a crack, and he promptly chews on those halves thoughtfully.] I'm not the best one to ask, but I know that a festival is held in honor of the goddesses of seasons and harvest around the time when the last seeds of the year are sown. [Demeter and her daughter Persephone. Mentioning that they're his grandmother and mother, respectively, felt wrong because it all feels distant, in a way. He folds his legs and rests his arms on the knees loosely as he keeps watching the children and their caretakers following them.] There's another — although not around this time of the year, I believe? — where people dress differently like so. Apokries, a three-week-long celebration. Celebrating Lord Dyonisus. I've only heard tales of them, though. Never participated. [A shame, really. He always heard those three weeks were wild.]
damnpire: (pic#12042820)

[personal profile] damnpire 2022-10-11 02:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[In general, he doesn't mind being touched by people not looking to do him harm. And, more so now, he does not mind the brush of her fingers on his skin. Something in him from what he's eaten makes him crave it, and when it comes, it's comforting. It placates a hunger in him. Surprisingly, his skin is not anything nearly as frigid as it looks. It's warm, human.

A wave of bitterness rushes through his sinuses before the lip of the bottom can even get to his lips. His breath holds in his chest, lips parting to accept the pungent liquid that comes. The decrepit voice in his head says he is making a stupid mistake. The drink tastes like something that should make you shrivel into bone ash, or vomit your way into the sea to end the suffering. But it doesn't.

A jubilant, fiery heat pours over him from the head down. He's not sure if he's ever felt like this before in his long life. This rapture has never strangled his insides, and he wonders if it's an exaggeration, or if it's normal. The red glow of his eyes is brighter, and they watch her fall back into the straw and laugh. He's not sure what's enjoyable, or what's funny, but hearing the hoarse ring of her laugh... a slow, reserved smile winds itself onto his face. He's amused, and he looks much more inviting for it.]


It's ecstasy.
janescayre: (132)

[personal profile] janescayre 2022-10-11 03:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[Can't be hate if it's done with love!!!!!!! ♥♥♥

He denies her the option of groveling. Or making a comfortable seat for him. She doesn't quite unfurl, even with the generously allotted space (he must despise the smell of her), but there is a tentative straightening. Her eyes are trained on him, wary, curious. Her mouth feels very dry suddenly.]


I sh-should have guessed. You're dressed v-very handsomely, so. [God, was that being creepy? She twists her mouth and abandons the thread.] I suppose you're right, though. Unless you're a real m-maniac and want to take out whole swathes of people, it would be difficult to target someone specific. It's b-better to catch them privately, or s-slip it into a personal cup or something.

[That's how it was done before. Her gaze sinks to the table.

It's funny. This is the afterlife, she should be surrounded by familiar faces. Where were the rest of the dearly departed?]
damnpire: (pic#12231839)

yes!!

[personal profile] damnpire 2022-10-11 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[By now, he has a sword. A longsword with the barest curvature from the middle to the tip, the hand guard and hilt elegant and made of twisting, Eldritch ivy with a gem inlaid in the center. It fits him. But it won't be his for long if he doesn't smithy it with a soul.

He's not sure if the horseman has one, and the soul is only partial why he's here anyway. He wonders if it's a shade of some kind--and perhaps they all are, in a way--but its removing heads, so he can't be sure. What he does understand is this is not one of Stygia's playful games.

Standing sentinel for a moment, his eyes shift to regard Sasuke from beneath his hat. This is just a boy is what he wants to think, but he knows better. Like Sakura, he can feel a certain kind of similar collection of strength in the boy's aura. He offers no greeting, even though he is sure this is the boy who spoke to him tersely through the application.]


Go then, [he says in a quiet voice not befitting his image.] Time is not on their side.

[Rarely does D ever run, but he takes off into a sprint now, much too fast to be something human, fast enough Sasuke has to use better eyes to see him. His hand pulls the sword from his back. The horseman goes for another head, and D twists his sword out to parry the decapitating weapon away while he descends in a black mass of cape to cart away the intended victim.

But the horseman doesn't seem to be paying them much mind--it takes off again in another direction.]
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

EDDIE | HARVEST HUNT.

[personal profile] redsoil 2022-10-11 03:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ ( and one more prompt for the road, why not? )

There is a gathering of would-be hunters and huntees alike, the mass of them divided into "pairs" in accordance to colored items pulled out of a hat. A hunter-huntee pair with miniature white crowns to be worn atop the head, a pair with yellow jerseys to go over their tops, black bangles to lace the arms and wrists with clattering sounds. It's all fun and games, randomization of the chase, with the caveat of the hunter's goal is to locate their huntee before they arrive at the finish line, and the huntee's goal is to find the finish line before they're hunted down and captured!

( Set reaches deep into the proverbial hat, drawing out his item with a studious expression. A red scrunchie, to be worn in the hair or upon a wrist, provided it's visible. )

Good luck! First pair to achieve one of their goals wins a prize, but it is the one who reaches their personal goal that will receive the harvest boon! Please find your partner and decide who will be the hunter, and who will be the huntee! He stretches the scrunchie between his fingers, spreading them like a blooming flower with amusement curling at one corner of his mouth. He can see some of the pairs already finding one another, with jovial laughs or nervous handshakes -- companions divided into a pair with strangers, or lucky duets who know one another well enough to begin talking tactics.

Fine then, he'll seek his own out, as he begins to draw his hair up into a high tail, wrapping the scrunchie around it once, twice, thrice before he tugs the ends tight and lets it sit there. ]