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.

damnpire: (pic#15956292)

[personal profile] damnpire 2022-10-11 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[D doesn't have to glance at Silco to know the man is there by the scent of the cigar he could smell before they came together. His eyes instead continue to watch the others from beneath the brim of the hat, idle, people watching.

They are enjoying themselves, and he finds this okay. They should.]


It's not a place I belong.

[His voice is softer than it looks like it should be. Finally, D turns his head to look over the collar of the pauldrons, peering at Silco without giving the man any kind of once over. Quietly, he says,] Silco, [as if he has pin-pointed who the other man is.]

The dangerous man.
declass: (pic#15942498)

[personal profile] declass 2022-10-11 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[ there's a slight wince, but she evens her expression out as quickly as she can afterwards. ]

... the immediate area around it hurts a little, yes.

[ it's said in the kind of tone that implies that she wouldn't admit to that if her expression didn't just give it away. but at least she'll be honest when she's caught. ]
damnpire: (pic#12042816)

[personal profile] damnpire 2022-10-11 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[With no real hurry, D turns his head to glance over his shoulder without turning his body. Something in the woods is very much alive, but not in the sweet and charming sense of spring. They may not have long before it tries to swallow them, too.

He tips his head again to peer at the Puck above them, goading them in the tree. It isn't that he doesn't believe the words are true. There is some lying by omission here, he's sure.

There is no warning for what he does, no slowness either. He bends his knees slightly and leaps straight up from the ground like a cat. His left hand grabs one branch in passing to propel himself farther along; he's too quick to be a human. His right hand shoots out of the confines of the long cape like a striking snake, and he grabs the Puck by the neck under the jaws.

It's a surprise, though the drop of the lantern is probably on purpose more than anything else. It plummets toward Joonghyuk below, and as D squeezes the throat beneath his fingers, the Puck disperses away almost like a Cheshire cat, leaving D standing alone on the branch of the tree with the echo of laughter.]
heavenstorn: (heart of ember)

[personal profile] heavenstorn 2022-10-11 03:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Behind them the horseman does try to follow, making another masterful turn at impressive speed for such a large animal, but it's still not fast enough. The headless rider can only...watch? Can only stand there impotently as its chosen prey is carried off. Wordlessly it pulls away, kicking its steed into a fresh gallop to find someone else to maim.

Cedrik looks behind him as the horseman abandons the chase, and breathes a sigh of relief. He slows down but doesn't stop just yet, wanting to get Fukawa a little further from the danger before putting her down. In the meanwhile he'll gently ease her into a princess carry, something more comfortable for her (and hopefully she'll be less inclined to wriggle as much).

His hair is swept back from the run as he looks down at her, offering a gentle smile. ]


In the heat of the moment, the only destination I had in mind was 'away', to be honest. Are you hurt?
damnpire: (pic#12231837)

[personal profile] damnpire 2022-10-11 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[begging you to sleep

Dimitri's hand does not disappear, and he understands the lingering effects are still in play. At least they are not being weird about it. Are they...? Maybe Dimitri sitting there with his hand on D's forehead is weird in general.]


I don't mind.

[In general, he doesn't mind being touched so much by people he knows aren't attacking him, but he prefers for it not to happen, and yet, here he is... glad that it's happening.]

You don't have to stay.
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

[personal profile] redsoil 2022-10-11 04:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ With a small tray of free food having been long pawned off on him, Set has found himself the temporary owner of one (1) young man who has obviously been partaking of the available snacks. The desert-god is an intensely warm figure, heat radiating from his body in the way that a fever might, that the sands might burn and scald bare, unprotected skin with the coveted heat of the sun. Set's resisted food at every turn, his 'no's' ranging from as polite as possible to outright shouting down the joyful Restless who are only trying to be friendly. Eventually, even he is worn down enough to pop a snack or two into his mouth -- already knowing he'll regret it later.

( He'll regret it NOW, as well. As he's leaning into Noctis as though perfectly willing to cuddle up with a stranger, and not at all losing his sensibility and ire due to a grablenut morsel. ) ]


I've not found any, if that's what you're looking for. We should make some.

[ The words are sharp, but he's subdued enough for his tone to be calm. ]

Do you want these?

[ his platter of various goodies, he means... not all of them are snacks with effects. ]
janescayre: (158)

[personal profile] janescayre 2022-10-11 04:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[Whoa now!

It's a good thing that by now Syo has ample experience in actual combat. Her past paramours had been (mostly) unarmed and unable to fight back with more than bare hands and adrenaline panic. But the wacky and wild robot hell she'd just sprung free of? That was a crash course in the art of Don't Get Got, and she's passed with flying colours.

Syo has to vault left to dodge the blow, landing low, eyes blown wide in a madcap glee.]


Come on, Scattington Bear! [She'll spring up and take a swipe at that silly tail of hers.] We're playing tag, not Street Fighter!
coherer: now i'm on my own (pic#15578483)

[personal profile] coherer 2022-10-11 04:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, thanks. Ego's a little bruised, but— (it's waved away, hand slapping back to his pumpkin.)

I didn't even choose to come in here if I'm being honest. Someone thought it was a great idea to drag me along. (luckily, the guy bolted and spared jonas, but it doesn't feel right in here. the screams he'd been hearing while he was carving his pumpkins didn't make it sound fun for him either.

jonas points in no specific direction.
)

I know it's called a "corn maze" for a reason, but, uh, I guess I'm looking for the way out. Any recommendations on the direction I should head? Preferably before I become somebody's prey.
janescayre: (115)

[personal profile] janescayre 2022-10-11 04:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ty coinflip, chaos reigns]

Get the hell out of my way then! [She's not going to fight the brush off. That he has a knife out, has a mystical glowing eye (a piece of the Millenium Puzzle? A Terminator sniper scope?) make him less a by-stander in this dance of passion and more active obstacle. Sheesh, what fucking business of his was it what she did with Puck?

g̻͔e̪͚͜t̠͙̦ r̢̟̞i̠̦͜d̠̝͓ o̘̠͖f̼̘ h͓͇̫i̠̦̻m̺͓͓

No no no, she wants the other one. She wants to watch him writhe as she splits his skin.

Syo rushes to the side, looking left, right. She pirouettes on the spot.]


Wheeeere are you, daaarliiiiing?

[THERE!

She speeds forward, aiming for the thick brush Puck has taken refuge in.]
janescayre: (211)

[personal profile] janescayre 2022-10-11 05:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[Both. Scarebative. Com-ared.]

Who said I planned on sitting around like a coward?

All I said was that there's a possibility there's something more to this. Exercising caution is NOT the same thing as hiding under a table and letting people die!
m67: (pic#16007820)

1!

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-11 05:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ the second asa slinks back from both the forced contact and then the woman's subtle snarl, she is no longer the one offering an apology. in fact, the "sorry" she quietly speaks does not fall from her lips. she's a passenger. yoru challenges the woman to point another metaphorical finger at her with a tipped head and jutted jaw, her glance dipped and condescending. if humans find out? who cares. they're already in hell. the difference is, yoru is going to crawl back out, not these suckers. she's not afraid of not melding in with the crowd in her own "home".

so she should take a stand when she wants, no? especially when, gosh! is she miffed! a few decorations of cut-out pumpkins happen to be pinned under her sneakers, but she doesn't ease up. ]


Anything else to add? Or . . . more shit?

[ what are you doing?! asa asks, but yoru doesn't answer. she's busy. ]
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

yea there it is.....

[personal profile] redsoil 2022-10-11 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There are scars inside of Jonas. Not real scars, not physical scars - not the raised groove of fibrous tissue that has knit itself over an old injury, not a thing that Jonas can point at and say see? this is what happened to me, but metaphorical scars. Invisible scars. Spiritual marks, where it seems as though something set hooks in the fabric of Jonas's existence and stole pieces of him with it when they went.

He hardly has time to focus on any of them, with his attention being dragged in multiple directions -- to the cheering crowd at the forefront of the stage, crying out for music, for a performance that Set has no ability to carry. He can feel how Jonas's body is familiar with the motions, limber hands and arms and fingertips calloused from stroking strings, but he -- he, Set -- does not know how to use this body to do such things. He doesn't know music. What he does know, is that he can spot himself in the crowd by the vibrant red of his own hair, and he knows intimately that it is Jonas who is there.

The parade and final dregs of the musical competition are a hellscape, now. For them. ]


Hey!

[ His voice cracks. Youthful. He draws in a sharp breath and yells again, this time into the microphone. ]

Unhand him! The redhead you have your filthy hands on, yes! You know who I'm speaking to. Unhand him and step the hell away!

[ Set would like to hurl the stringed instrument at them, for good measure, but it may be something vital to Jonas's existence now. Some item that grounds him, and so it is clutched firmly in one hand as Set drives Jonas's broad-shouldered body from the stage and into the crowd, like a linebacker that's just spotted his target. He manhandles his way through the confusion, voices sparking shocked and incredulous: okay, so is he forfeiting? what's going on?, muttering rises around him as he reaches his own body.

It looks so pathetic, like this. ]


Jonas.

[ He calls to the young man, using his own voice. The inflections are Set's, unmistakably sharp and commanding as a god's ought to be - just, caught up in Jonas's accent. ]

Come with me. We're leaving this crowd.
redsoil: — PLEASE CREDIT! (Default)

[personal profile] redsoil 2022-10-11 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[ HUMBLE?

While his initial reaction was to immediately reach for Joonghyuk's phone as well, he went first to his open messages -- to Dokja, to Sooyoung -- to demand they fess up if their companion had contacted them. The notification with his own name attached brings him relief in a way that it ought not to; this is the third time he has exchanged ka with another, yet it is the first time he does not know the face he wears at all. This man is a stranger to him, dour-faced and apparently well-known to the two souls they have in (relative) common. Their friend then.

He immediately, aggressively, thumbs open the message and shoots back: ]
YOU GIVE ME BACK MINE?? Who the hell are you! How did WE switch?! I knew the last bodies I was inside of, do you think I want to be inside yours?!
damnpire: (pic#15956290)

[personal profile] damnpire 2022-10-11 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[The staring was clinical at best initially, but now it really does narrow into something mildly scolding.

He doesn't make any motions to check her, and it doesn't have anything to do with her exactly. Caution on his part. For himself.]
Your pupils aren't dilated. But you should clean it. [She does not act like someone who has had a terrible head injury, so he's reassured with this alone.]

Are you alright?

[Not physically, but mentally, he means.]
pissoffbook: (36gFVHG)

[personal profile] pissoffbook 2022-10-11 05:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[Kainé isn't at the stand, but she was on her way there when all hell broke loose.]

Fucking hell!

[However, in what seems a strange moment of compassion, Kainé steps between the downed woman and the merchant.]

Can't you see it was a fucking accident? Why don't you go make sure no one else was hurt before you bite this idiot's head off!

[No one said she was tactful in her compassion. For fuck's sake, her answer to getting Nier back on his feet after Emil pulled that stupid stunt was to kick his ass!

The merchant, takes one look at the angry woman in lingerie and heels and decides he's suddenly got other things to do.]
coherer: i know what you wanna say (Default)

i'm crying forever over this

[personal profile] coherer 2022-10-11 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)
(the feedback from the microphone forces jonas' head up from beneath the four men intent to pin him. that's his voice being forced to speak in an irregular pattern and it triggers an upset, white-hot and desperate.

"and now we're sure you remember this part."

three men at his back and arms are thrown to the ground, and the one still forcing him back by the shoulders is pushed aside as easily as if he had no weight at all. jonas is able to face himself at the moment that follows, not red-eyed and red-mouthed and smirking but as furious as he feels, wondering if it's just another nightmare; logically, he knows that this is set, but when has knowing the truth of a matter ever helped him?

a threatening finger is jabbed forward, a bruising tap to a too-human pec.
)

Don't touch me, man, I'm serious, (jonas warns set, throat tight. this makes its godly quality waver too humanly, but there's no shame in how open he is with his distress, wide-eyed and hostile.) Don't touch me. I'm—I can go myself.

—what the hell are you all staring at?

(the crowd huddles together in small groups, standing away from the disruptive pair until they suddenly scatter. a whip of red hair startles them into making a path, the power of "set's" presence alone enough for them to obey an unspoken order and let them go—despite the recuperating men still sitting dazedly in front of the stage.

jonas expects that set will follow as he storms off, hand raising to wipe hastily at a cheek.
)

What is going on? You're—why are you in my body? Did... Did you do this?
coherer: something you don't (pic#13731242)

[personal profile] coherer 2022-10-11 06:04 pm (UTC)(link)
(about to secure himself another grablenut—because despite their spicy kick, they're delicious—jonas' hand closes only to come up with nothing. sure, he wasn't paying attention, too busy staring at people out in awful clown costumes, but his aim couldn't have been that bad.

looking over, jonas notices the cat woman leaning into his area. her ears are the most realistic he's seen, wondering how she made them for the festival.
)

Hey. Cool costume.

(he tries to take another grablenut, slower this time. skeptical.)
coherer: when you're all out of time (pic#15976815)

[personal profile] coherer 2022-10-11 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)
(well, jonas decides that he's been snubbed. there was someone there, he was talking offhandedly to them, but by the time he actually turned to face them, they'd run off. did he say something stupid? maybe they thought the "condoms" comment was too crass.

it'd been a girl with dark hair, that jonas is certain of. he takes a moment to scan the crowd.
)

Oh— (there she is, identified by a familiar head and the half-hidden profile of her face.) Hey, uh, I just wanna know if I said something—I mean, obviously I said "something," but if it was weird or anything—wait, Asa?

...

You're Asa, right? It's Jonas, the—I'm the guy you've been texting.

(it's practically announced to the crowd. one woman even turns to loudly "aww" at them.)
dodgeouttahell: (13)

[personal profile] dodgeouttahell 2022-10-11 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Why would anyone want to do that? [That sounds like Wretched behavior to him, and Zag does look around to make sure said person isn't around so that at least they could get an earful.

There are screams nearby, though, a shrill 'Shit, shit—run!' from somewhere, and Zagreus' dark eyebrows shoot up, a little amused.
] Some people are really getting into it, I suppose.

[In fact, he doesn't remember the way he came from and sort of wishes he had the Yard of Ariadne with him; it'd be perfect for the occasion, or at least to lend Jonas.] C'mon, then; let's get you out of here. It mustn't be fun if you're not into this. [He jerks his head to tell Jonas to follow him.]
craters: (Screenshot 2022-09-14 193035)

[personal profile] craters 2022-10-11 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
the boy is already squirming the second an appropriately broad set of shoulders are presented, and sakura just laughs as she holds him out and lets him clamber up. even with the hat pushed back as far as it can reliably sit, it still swallows most of the boy's expression, except for his beaming smile, with baby teeth in various stages of growing in.

Just make sure you hang on tight to his coat, okay?

she helps to adjust the boy once he's in place, directing his hands away from d's long hair.

Let's be gentle, now —
acknowledgement: (pic#15486210)

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙳𝙴.

[personal profile] acknowledgement 2022-10-11 07:15 pm (UTC)(link)
…Who’re you talking to?

[Though Naruto is the one asking, it is Noctis’ voice Jonas will hear; the shinobi is currently stuck in their friend’s body, through no apparent doing of his own. Still, the bemusement is clear. Looking around, the young man tries to discern if Jonas is accompanied by anyone—or just in the habit of airing comments aloud.]

And why condoms? [A beat.] Wait. Is that a way girls tell you they’re interested…?

[Jeez, not even Hinata ever threw condoms at him.]
acknowledgement: (pic#15486263)

the parade

[personal profile] acknowledgement 2022-10-11 07:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[In the end, it’s the sound of his own voice shouting in the distance that alerts him. Pushing rudely through the throngs of people, Naruto bursts into the small clearing where Noctis (presumably Noctis, at least) is fending off a festival volunteer. The sight of his own body being puppeteered without his consent lacks any real shock factor for Naruto; he’s far too accustomed to summoning clones, after all. Still, there’s an accusatory aggression stringing stiff the body he currently inhabits as he marches up to his friend.]

You!

[He pauses, frowning. This needs to be fixed—immediately.

So he does what he did under the Falls of Truth and hugs his body to him.]


Okay, playtime’s over. Get back in me. Or get me back in you. Whatever!
chokuto: (pic#15106080)

un: 火

[personal profile] chokuto 2022-10-11 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[wow Sasuke's username is so edgy, anyway, he needs to criticize this person publicly]

That's a terrible idea and you have no idea if it would even work. What is your goal? To remove the parade? Just don't attend if it bothers you so much.

[He'll reflect on this later, penitent, when he gets trapped in the crowds and wants his life to end.]
craters: (Screenshot 2022-09-16 193806)

she's here to heal things and chew gum and she's all out of gum

[personal profile] craters 2022-10-11 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
there's never any time on a battlefield to pay one's respects for the dead. there's a reason, that after the fourth war, the bodies were mostly incinerated by konoha's katon users. they didn't have time to collect them in the moment, people by and large were left where they fell. the clean-up was weeks, months afterwards, locating the fallen. some were never properly identified, and it was only by checking off rosters of the allied forces that they were able to approximate unit position and casualty counts. in the years since, there is still speculation on how many people might have taken the opportunity to become a missing-nin, and how many were just so deeply buried in the earth that their bodies couldn't be found.

but she understands. and so she just nods, and leaves her hand on his shoulder to help support him. she won't heal him yet, but her chakra suffuses him anyway through the avenue of that single touch — like the rainfall in spring that encourages growth, soft and cool and seaglass green.


Of course. What do you need me to do?
fessus: (Perfect Dark)

shakily i type 'parade'

[personal profile] fessus 2022-10-11 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
If I were in charge of the scheduling it would've ended a long time ago. Which just means you're talking to the wrong person.

[ His tone is as apathetic as ever, weary and disinterested, but with the last few words there's an odd hitch to his voice that has him clearing his throat. Strange – even that sounds odd. And when he lifts a hand to clear his chest with a solid thump of his fist, all becomes distressingly clear. ]

What–

[ This isn't his hand. Hell, this isn't his chest. This isn't his body at all, and a rapid grasp at hair confirms what he's already begun to suspect. This. This. Again. Almost immediately Noctis in Keith's body slumps with the newfound realization of his tiredness, the lack of ancient Lucian magic in his very veins setting an unsettled brain right into an immediate state of withdrawal.

This place really is hell.
]

This has to be the shittiest joke of this whole place... What keeps triggering this? [ Hands cover his face for a heavy exhalation; even for Keith's face this is one downtrodden presentation. ]