MOD EVENT #001

[oblivium]

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.

Comments

[zauneyete]

[ A familiar voice? Silco's head tipped up, from his crouch, before he straightened, pulling up the sheet of paper with him as he straightened. At least this time, Silco was clothed, a blessing for both he and Sasuke. The man looked larger, with his big coat on, the large lapel almost like a lizard's frill around his shoulder, to make himself look larger. He turned a mismatched look back toward the paper, he turned it in his hand, before he offered it to the man. ]

Something unusual, I think. It certainly doesn't look like the rest of the trash.

[ It seems purposeful, while the rest of the trash seems normal. ]

The white caught my eye -- although what it means...

[ Was anyone's guess. ]

[redsoil]

I don't believe so, but I am unsure. It could be residual in nature, or causative.

[ Regardless, he knows how his "Shadow" reacted, when he'd tried to lay his hand upon it -- the deep unhappiness, the vibrant sense of disgust and the pitched demand to touch that not! you're always grabbing things without putting any thought to it, it's always getting you into trouble!. ]

Whatever it is, the well of darkness within me doesn't like it. I plan to collect some, when able to, and announce it to the others.

[ The sound of feathery wings beating does alert him, he snaps his head towards the sound just before the rasp of the harpy's talons meet the branch. A sneer begins to crawl across his mouth, the baring of one tooth almost territorial by the way he glowers at it. If it makes a move, he's ripping it to shreds. He'll defend this area until he's done with it, let the beasts wait their turn. ]

-- why would I grow numb to death? Being a war god is not at all a commendable position, but my task as a slayer of men is equal to my duty to remember them. I lost sight of that, not too long ago. I can't again.

[ Now, he draws the corpse along, and rests it with the others. For now, it is the last of the explorers he'd found in this place. Arms dark with gore, he approaches Claude again with a steady saunter, the unwavering gleam of his red eyes eager to follow any flinch, any twitch, any shivering stillness that might be held fast by the archer. ]

You're unhappy.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco turned, to look at him head-on, and in the deep of the shadows, his eye glowed in the shadows -- like it burned with a light from within, instead of reflecting light from elsewhere. It's not hard to figure out who this was, as he had been referred to as dangerous by too few people, and this much taller man calling him dangerous -- laughable -- sealed the deal.

He took a puff of his cigar, but did D the kindness of blowing the smoke away from the man. ]

As you can see, not very dangerous in person.

[ See? Short, not strong in the slightest, and middle aged. Then again, Silco's weapon had so often been his mind, rather than his stature. He had people for the second. ]

Why wouldn't you belong in the party? [ He asked, instead of getting into the whole 'dangerous' talk again, instead wondering what brought someone else to the sidelines. Was he a Teetotaler, or something else, perhaps? ]

meangirls.gif

[redsoil]

[ Set wasn't always cruel. Loud and aggressive, stubborn and unyielding - yet. Cruelty was a newer mantle upon his shoulders, worn now for hundreds of years until it fit him like a second skin -- when the crowd paws at him, calling for him to join their inane celebrations, he hisses and snaps like a cornered animal. He seethes, tongue issuing insults that range from entirely in another language, to what might have amounted to existence-shattering mockeries, were this a cosmic horror.

He just wants them to stop reaching out for him. He's in no mood to be included, seized at and drawn into the noise and sway of bodies. People are repulsive, and he can still feel the slick rot and gore from the explorers he'd gathered and buried not too long ago. It's like an invisible, thin weight upon his skin - one that he continues to slide his palms over, nick his nails against, as though he needs to claw himself open to be truly clean again.

In the midst of one notably mean insult, he hears someone else entirely -- a stage-whisper near to his ear, that holds the refrain of cruelty so eagerly echoed by Set as well. ( If he is cruel, he does not need to appear weakened. ) ]

Oh, wouldn't that be a treat. Let those who've given into folly serve as amusement.

[ The notion of a soulmate -- hah. He hasn't given it a second thought. Nor has he examined the "room" that awaits him in the Shadowlands, either. What need is there? ]

At least he had the wit to carve holes to see through. Imagine if he had to be led around by the hand. Might as well submit to a leash, at that point.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco doesn't even blink at the cigarette smoke, immune to that from his own near-fifty years of smoking. One of his eyes did blink, though, before his eyes flicked toward the phone, and then back at the younger guy before him, considering. ]

If I'm one of the few with "good sense", then we may be in trouble. It may be down to just you and I, if we're the only ones with enough sense not to go gallivanting off to play "hero" for someone we don't know.

[ The twist in his tone said, very clearly, he expected others would be reaching out to save him, even if they didn't. ]

Honestly, it would do some good, if they saw consequences for their foolishness. [ Like dying. You know. ]

[dodgeouttahell]

You mean there's a time and place to be breaking into song? Blasphemy. ['Laughter is a bodily exercise, precious to Health.' Who had said that, anyway? He remembers Achilles saying it once, a quote of some sort, after one of the rare hearty laughs that burst out of him like a crack in a dam, and he tried scooping back again as though ashamed of the spillage. It had felt oddly misplaced, there in the underworld where disease did not prevail, but now, he gets it. He thinks he gets it.

He tilts his head, stilted breath in the form of a chuckle, as he dabs gently at her cheek.] You can keep going, though. Your voice is lovely.

[boarwitness]

No, it means you're an idiot-- ugh!

[the smell is truly vile. and sylvain's just hanging out, chugging it down like it's nothing. ridiculous. pathetic. sylvain has sunk to new lows. only a fool would respond to such jejune prodding. and watching him the whole time! as if he's the idiot, for not drinking the disgusting mess. foolish.





he pulls open another bottle, and starts drinking.

after his own sizeable swig, he slams the bottle down, face twisting with revulsion.]

Are you done?

[dodgeouttahell]

Why not? But wait, the world ended? Is that why you're here?

[Hello to you?? What happened, or really, who messed up this time? Zagreus frowns, not really minding Joonghyuk's sudden dry retort. That…

makes no sense. How do rules change if the world ends?

He has so many questions right now. Who, what, when and where? Why? How?] Was it the event that you mentioned? That my Father was participating in?

[boarwitness]

He won't be alive to annoy us much longer.

[the flames are snuffed out, and felix is back to stalking on sound alone. without a target, his own magic stands no chance—and the light too dim to aim properly. as much as he's loathe to admit it, Joonghyuk might come in handy.]

Cast your magic on my sword.

[the laughter seems to briefly come from all sides—and then above. there's a sound, and several tree branches fall—or, it seems like tree branches, at first. when the moon's light glints off them, it's clear they're appendages—limbs—twisted and contorted.]

Quick. If we see him, we can kill him.

[dodgeouttahell]

['You must understand that letting someone run recklessly will end in their getting hurt, so you must say 'don't go past that line'.'

Is that… Hah. How silly. That his father kept trying to stop him from reaching the surface, either by siccing his forces on him, rearranging the entirety of Hell, or even confronting him directly, out of his love and kindness was just folly. He does keep getting himself hurt in the end, though, doesn't he? How counter-productive would that be?

Still, despite the thorn in his chest he somehow wasn't expecting to suddenly jab, he nods, absently rubbing his hand on his collarbone.] I understand that something like a harem can get tempers and hearts flared up easily. Was it rewarding, at least?

[declass]

Yes. Although is it just me, or was the food a little... odd?

[ she was struggling to find an appropriate word to describe everyone getting seemingly drunk off of treats.

there's a wince at the initial sting, but that does feel better already. ]

[zangetsu]

（ he watches her a moment. opens his mouth as if to speak, and then closes it again tiredly. it is wasteful, but what does it matter? the worst case scenario is they're a little thirsty, but unless they're out here for days it's not going to have much lasting impact.

he gathers the rest of the bones in silence, and then hauls them over to where she is, and sits down cross-legged beside her. he's all gawky angles and long limbs, body on the cusp of adulthood while the rest of him struggles to catch up like a wobbly-kneed fawn, but his hands are steady when he reaches for the bottle.

they clean them together, in wordless silence. and once they're finished — or as finished as that small amount of water will take them — he says, ）

Okay, now what? I wasn't really listening to what that guy said...

[dirtdevil]

[ well, now that he's up here, he kinda likes it. there's a pretty nice view. it's noisier than he'd like, what with all the weird hunter-prey bullshit going on below, but it beats spending another 45 minutes lost in a bunch of goddamn corn.

it's not the most comfortable place to hang out, and he probably wouldn't be able to get away with doing it if he wasn't so small, but it's fine. there's some pretty choice people-watching up here, too—not something he usually cares about at all, but things are a lot more interesting in the afterlife. some of the people down there don't even look like they're humans.

this guy, for example. he's got wings. pretty cool. he looks frustrated, though, which is a little perplexing, and Levi can't help but comment on it. ]

Looks like you've got a pretty easy way out of there if you've had enough.

[ unless he's like a flightless bird or something. that would be really sad. ]

[damnpire]

[Don't nod. Your head, Hibiki.]

It's what I want to find out.

[Why he's out here digging for clues instead of chasing some wild apparition(?) out into the sea. He does wonder if the horseman will return, or if this was a one-time only thing.

He turns and continues walking. If Hibiki wants to join, she's free to follow him, and luckily his pace is relaxed and slow. He has no hurry to him for now.]

[janescayre]

Who?!

[She pulls back in the blink of an eye. The scissors are still at the ready, don't think you're getting away that easily. But she's wide-eyed and beaming bright at him, face to face, a scant two inches between their noses.]

She didn't tell you? After all this time? Oh, that naughty bitch. Just when we were coming to terms too! The sting of shame burns long after the blow, and amends are so slow to make. No matter! I shall give you a proper introduction.

Baby, you are in the presence of the one and only, the twisted and homely—

[There's a saucy kick of the leg, a burlesque back bend. She'd fling an arm out for flourish if that wouldn't loosen her hold on either shoulder or pulse.]

Genocider Syo! Darling of late night news, delight of the true crime junkies! The nation's savage sweetheart! The better half of the mind and body you hold in your big, broad hands.

as a former sasuke player, i appreciate u

[damnpire]

[Below, D keeps up with both the horseman and Sasuke without overtaking them. When he needs to make up distance, he leaps across; it looks like flying, but it isn't, a glide maybe over the expanse.

His voice is more firm but just as quiet when he gains on the other Restless and says,] Move. [The resonance of it can be heard, and it gets the crowd to scatter in other direction.

The spurred boots run him for Sasuke and the horseman when Sasuke comes down, and he wonders if he'll have enough speed and time to swing his sword in for another parry. But he pulls up into a slow pause several yards away as the winding skeleton emerges. Hm. Lacking the hurry he had before, he closes the gap between them in a steady walk, stopping nearby with the sword held at his side. His eyes peer in the direction the horseman has gone, then he glances at Sasuke.]

Yes.

[damnpire]

[Quietly to himself, D hums, thoughtful. He doesn't pursue any other philosophical discussion about the viciousness residing in men, but he understands well that the least capable looking man can be the most deadly.

Silco's business will be Silco's business, however, unless someone is paying him to pay it any mind.]

Because I'm a dhampir.

[God knows what else half the others are, or were, but all he cares about really is that he is firmly on the side of not belonging.]

And I don't care for parties.

[windsongs]

[ It's incredibly wasteful, she knows. But even if she herself wasn't given the proper training (B̶e̶c̷a̴u̵s̷e̷ ̷y̴o̵u̴'̶r̶e̷ ̵a̶ ̵m̴o̸n̶s̴t̶e̵r̸.̶), she knows that the family would usually wash the dead in preparation for a proper send off to the afterlife. She wasn't raised within the shrine itself, but some habits die hard.

The fact that he wordlessly slides in next to her and does the same takes her by surprise, as the small blonde quickly looks at him, eyes widening a bit. Her expression softens quickly as they work in silence, getting through most of the bones they have collected before running out of water.

Sighing quietly, she hears his question and falters. She knows what the next step is but--

J̵u̷s̸t̸ ̶d̸o̸ ̶i̸t̶ ̸y̶o̶u̵r̷s̶e̵l̸f̷.̷ ̶H̵e̵'̸d̸ ̸t̸e̴l̷l̴ ̶y̷o̷u̵ ̶t̵o̷ ̴a̷n̴y̶w̴a̶y̶.̵ ̶B̷e̷ ̴a̵ ̶g̸o̵o̴d̶ ̸p̶e̴r̶s̷o̸n̶ ̸f̵o̷r̵ ̸o̸n̵c̴e̷ ̸a̶n̶d̵ ̷g̷i̷v̴e̶ ̷h̴i̵m̵ ̵a̵n̵ ̷o̸u̵t̷.̵

Brows furrowed as she presses her lips together, taking a deep breath. ]

...This.

[ Wind gathering in her right hand, she slashes it across her forearm. Trying desperately to stifle a scream, she grits her teeth while bowing her head, letting out a pained groan as the wind-torn wound bleeds, staining the dirt red. ]

[windsongs]

[ She's not trying to, but... ]

no but I'm about to find out
want me to report back? or are you on your way?

[windsongs]

[ How is he managing to turn her mood in such a dire place. She doesn't laugh, but her smiled grows just slightly. Is it right to joke around in a situation like this? They do say it's important, but it feels terribly misplaced here. ]

Of course there is. Not like I pay attention to that most of the time, but...

[ At least not here, but it's strange. For some reason, she feels more comfortable embracing that side of her bloodline here. And the man sitting next to her, nonchalantly paying her a compliment like it's nothing, is part of that. She winces when the cloth meets her cheek, but it doesn't do much to get rid of the flattered smirk on her face. She acquiesces to request, opting to quietly sing as she continues to clean his wound.

He was the one encouraging her to try things out, so it's only fair she does with him. ]

[craters]

（ it sounds so much like the usual doubt of her skills that she actively bristles, expression drawn into an annoyed frown. it doesn't occur to her at first he's not suggesting she can't. ）

As long as I'm the only one here who can heal the way I do? Yes.

（ she knows it's a dumb thing to assert. that it's smarter and better to play cautious, to preserve her own strength and skill for moments when it's truly needed and not expend herself on every twisted ankle, but she's butting up against years of ingrained questions of her worth and value, and she's stubborn enough to do it out of spite at this point. sakura: will absolutely push herself until she collapses just to prove the patriarchy Wrong, oop. ）

[windsongs]

[ It's a force of habit :c

She shouldn't assume that he doesn't mind her coming with, so when he starts to walk, Hibiki is quick to follow a few steps behind. Her natural inclination is to fill this silence with words (questions mostly), but he seems to be the type who would rather embrace the quiet instead of dealing with small talk.

Congrats, D. Small assistant get. ]

[seaboard]

As dour and serious as any little lordling, if this were her home, she would ask who his people are, what spirit he calls dear to give him such striking eyes.

But it matters naught here. Whoever he is, is as revelant as who she is. Which is currently the woman whose cheeks are pink with the heat of dancing, limbs long and loose, strong and sure. Wild, wild eyes that ebb like water as they meet his plainly.

A smile, like all the world is a secret pleasure, and it is. She had forgotten after so much pain, but it was.

"It will taste like bilge water and rot, first. Not for the weak of stomach or heart." But to gain anything worthwhile in life, difficulty was to be expected. "Then you shall know radiance itself, every warm thought and earthly pleasure for a moment of eternity."

There is no lie, no false promise. She had never been a good liar, even when she needed to have been. Worn openly and plainly is the offer.

iii

[windsongs]

[ While she did not lose nearly as much blood as he had, Hibiki still struggles once she's carried out of the woods. Completely unnecessary, but the person she was with insisted he take care of it, leaving her with knots in her stomach. She can't rely on other people. She's like those harpies in the woods, and if she isn't careful-- ]

Hm?

[ She sees a familiar face and, carefully getting up, her left arm wrapped tightly and slung above her heart to slow the bleeding, the blonde makes her way over. Standing next to him, despite looking a bit pale herself, she reaches out to try to touch his forehead (the universal "are you okay, let me see if you have a fever" gesture), Hibiki stops as she feels something change in the wind.

What... ]

Sure, what is it?

[ What is this feeling..? ]

[craters]

（ the effects of the food and drink and the pleasant warmth of company sees her just giving this whole scene a soft, fond smile. she's content to just follow along as d cuts through the crowd, keeping largely to his wake. people have a tendency to move out of his way.

she's not so off her game that she doesn't summon a transformed clone to send off through the crowd, another pair of eyes to be watching out for the boy's parents. she doesn't really need to know what they look like, she's imagining a frantic couple on the search for a child.

they hunt like this for a time and finally — the boy tips the hat back just enough, and flings out a chubby baby arm to indicate a dark-haired woman standing off to one side, watching the parade with desperate, fearful eyes. they make their way to her, and she practically claws the boy down from d's shoulders, caught between chastising him fiercely and sobbing in relief, thanking them both between lulls in the other two wild emotions.

sakura catches the hat as it's knocked askew by the mother's ministrations, but instead of giving it back to him she drops it on her own head. haha, she's the spooky, edgy one now.

it takes a bit longer to extricate themselves (you're welcome, it was no trouble, please don't worry about us) but once they do, sakura loops her arm companionably through his and says, ）

Well, that was an adventure!