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.

windsongs: (Default)

[personal profile] windsongs 2022-10-18 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ As Kaito darts behind her, a fierce wind begins to pick up around her, the slowly-forming cyclone adjusting to account for him without a second thought. Swirling near their feet, it begins to pick up speed as she focuses. She might not be able to see what he's up to, but the sound of water gives her at least some indication. If he's standing behind her, then-- ]

--!

[ A flash of insight forces her to duck, giving Kaito more space to pitch the oversize ball of water straight at the wyvern's wide head. It may be stupid, but it knows enough to get the fuck out of the way when someone's launching a giant anything at it, wings flapping wildly as it changes trajectories. Didn't Puck just say that this thing was no slouch?!

But interestingly, as the spell flies into the void... Did it hit something out there? It sounded like it made an impact.

Hibiki however doesn't take the time to question it, and as the wyvern readjusts to continue its dive bomb, she shouts back at him before grasping for his arm. ]


Jump!

[ The tempest coiling around them surges, collapsing in toward the pair with a strong updraft. Has he ever been flung before? Well, there's always a first for everything, as the pair are rocketed up a short distance. Maintaining grip on him, she forces the current to split--one attempting to launch the wyvern into the sky, and the other tossing the pair to the other side of the circle. The landing is a little rough, with the gust pushing her back into him. She takes a breath, then-- ]

Holy shit, that actually worked?!

[ Well, the wyvern wasn't flung, but its briefly stopped its charge as it regains it's footing (winging?), weaving from side to side in the air. But congrats Hibiki, you can now yeet someone other than yourself. ]
zauneyete: (Evil Lair)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2022-10-18 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ One of Silco's eyebrows rose -- the real one, over the real eye did -- and his lip curled as if there was a jeer on the tip of his tongue at the statement, but he didn't take the bait. Mostly because, well.

Clearly the man was lying.
]

Noct Gar? [ He asked, his own tone repeated the question, as if he were repeating it to learn it. ]

Well, do you mind if I call you Noct? If it's all the same, it feels a little more natural.
zauneyete: (Not even close to done)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2022-10-18 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ Silco's not really used to dealing with non-Zaunites, and it shows. Even if they had seen it, the way he swaggars, the way he talks, and gestures, it's all... made for harsh environments, and Silco is the biggest fish of them all. He doesn't look large -- the man is small, after all -- but he has the personality so much larger than his frame, and they all look away -- but they do answer.

Silco narrowed his eye at them, watching, before he nodded. He didn't get the sense that they were lying, even if they did shirk away from him, and he turned to the other man, before he made his way over, slow.
]

I haven't.

[ He admitted, honestly. He crouched, to look down closer at the body, curious at what he found. ] I assume it means one can do something with it? Make something?
Edited (oop) 2022-10-18 06:02 (UTC)
pissoffbook: (sm20)

[personal profile] pissoffbook 2022-10-18 06:09 am (UTC)(link)
Fucking hell!

[As Kainé looks up, she pushes off with her weapons, hard enough to send him skidding back, then flips backwards. The large glyph appears behind her again and a giant orb of blue and white magic hurtles towards the construct, detonating on impact. Just in case that doesn't take it out, Kainé crouches down, a globe of power surrounding her as an invulnerable shield.

However, if she's playing defense, she can't attack; and that's not like her. She stands again, the magic swirling around her slowly dissipating.]


I'm gonna pull out your teeth and cram 'em up your ass!

[What was that about her getting riled up during battle? Don't worry Kaito, it's mostly threats... probably.]
rattlingthestars: (130)

[personal profile] rattlingthestars 2022-10-18 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jim holds still long enough for the flask to be filled, and then clinks it together with the bottle like a toast before taking a swig.

Eases the sting of hey, why don't you have friends? a little, though it doesn't stop Jim from giving Jonas a flat look. ]


It's Jim. And I've been a little busy.

[ Being a shy loner, mostly. Very busy life. ]
fallendragon: (smug)

[personal profile] fallendragon 2022-10-18 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
[Arrakis's weak smile grew brighter when he saw a familiar face. It wavered when his gaze lowered to her injured arm. His stomach tightened into a guilty knot. He couldn't ask her for help. Unfortunately the wind around him continued to steal his energy as it swirled around him, steadily getting stronger. The wind itself felt unnatural and wild.

A hint of fear flashed across Arrakis's face when Hibiki reached out to touch his forehead. His magic was being channeled into the wind so his body would feel cold like the corpse he truly was, instead of the warm façade his magic created. He didn't want her to find out and he cleverly brushed her concern aside with a small smile.]


It's nothing. Are you okay? You don't look so good.

[Says the person who can barely stand.]
paraselenes: (51)

[personal profile] paraselenes 2022-10-18 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
No need...?

[ Maybe that's true. He doesn't like to believe that death is a necessity in any situation. But as though answering to any hint of inner conflict, the voice in his hindmind—the newest of the lot—growls awake to dispute him.

「 Mistaking cowardice for mercy. Craven cur. 」

He could let this creature go, and it would spare one life today. But the harpy would find prey in these woods sooner rather than later. How long and how much has it feasted already? He sounds stern, if tired. ]


What do you intend to do, then? Mend its wing? [ Like a fledgling fallen from a nest, and not a beast? ] Reform it of its predatory ways?
zauneyete: (So I told the guy...)

[personal profile] zauneyete 2022-10-18 06:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ A soft, half-scoff. ]

Of course. Well, I hope he'll recover from such a great loss.

[ He said it, but sat, and started to fish a cigar out of his jacket. ]

I assume the adjustment is going well? To all of...this?

[ The nonsense, his tone said. After all, they were dead, dropped in the middle of all of this, and told to adapt. It's something that Silco is used to, and capable of, but it does rankle. ]
paraselenes: (350)

it's all good!!

[personal profile] paraselenes 2022-10-18 06:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ Even in brief conversations, it's easy to see Zagreus as an affable man. And he seemed to be enjoying himself well enough now. So it wasn't a matter of lacking interest in festivities, as much as lack of opportunity.

That's always the worse of the two. He shoots him a sympathetic look before unlatching his cape, offering it easily to Zagreus to borrow as he speaks. He's not... really dressed for the cold, it seems (half his chest is just Out There). ]


I find it all a bit— [ he wheels his hand in an absent gesture, before landing on, simply: ] much.

[ Parties are a lot of hubbub. A lot of attention and noise. They're just a lot. Dimitri is austere and more polite than friendly; it's not an easy environment for him to mingle. ]

But there's something to seeing people in revelry. It reminds me of how important their happiness is—how vital it is to fight and toil for. So now that you have the chance, I hope you'll take the time to... have fun. [ He says 'fun' like a foreign concept. ] It must have been dour where you're from. Pardon me for saying so.
paraselenes: (178)

[personal profile] paraselenes 2022-10-18 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ Dedue is valid, and that's why he's presumably still alive and Dimitri is dead as hell.

It could be worse; he's glad they're holding hands so he's not tempted to do something insane like touch D's hair. Because unfortunately, he doesn't even dislike this. Even if he has some higher understanding that it's unnatural, inspired by nuts, it combines into a simultaneous feeling of 'this is nice' and 'goddess smite me now.' ]


It's the same for you, of course.

[ They can stop this whenever, even if they don't. ]

And admittedly, I could use the chance to step away. I don't do well with... so much happening.

[ parties........ ]

At least you chose a relatively quiet bale of hay to collapse on.
fallendragon: (happy)

sounds good!

[personal profile] fallendragon 2022-10-18 06:43 am (UTC)(link)
[Arrakis took a step forward to help Zach when he stumbled but the sudden wave of dizziness made him change his mind, and he stumbled back against the tree. Hopefully Zach was too preoccupied with his graceful recovery to notice his own little slip up. The gentle breeze that swirled around him grew stronger as it continued to steal his energy.

Arrakis put more energy into the reassuring smile he gave Zach so it would be more convincing. He's fine. He chuckled a little at his offer.]


That is part of it actually! As for the rest, well...

[He paused to gather his thoughts better. How was he going to explain what was happing to him? The thought of anyone knowing his weakness also made him uneasy but he could probably trust Zach, and he was running out of time.]

Do you like animals?
paraselenes: (144)

[personal profile] paraselenes 2022-10-18 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ He hurries along with Aspen at the next sequence of noise: the rattle of a branch when it's struck, the pop of the seedlings opening, and the harpies bellowing out a series of deeply offended screeches and squawks.

Dimitri would deny it, but there's a faint amusement in his eyes. It's a better mood than bloodlust, at least. ]


I was born blessed with strength. [ Stated without arrogance, and followed naturally by self-deprecation. ] And not much else, I'm afraid. If you'd asked me to cast a spell instead, it'd be a much... sadder performance.

[ magic hard :( ]

I can protect you, but I doubt brute strength will regain this lost lantern. [ The dark bleariness of these woods promises that there's more than just harpies. ] Where to even begin looking for it...?
terraria: art source: remnim@Twitter (● :3c)

[personal profile] terraria 2022-10-18 07:41 am (UTC)(link)
( aspen lets out a gusty sigh of relief when they're far enough away from the harpies and the foul smelling herb bomb. he takes a moment to breathe, bracing his hands on his legs. he's much more adept at flying than running, especially since he's not carrying the weight of his heavy wings. his attention darts back to dimitri, a fond smile gracing his face as he straightens. )

You sound like the man I used to serve, King Amir. He would always lament his lack of magic, even though he was proficent in many weapons and mastered the art of the sword. You're too hard on yourself. Excellence in one skill at the cost of others is nothing to be ashamed of.

As for the lantern...

( he turns towards the path ahead of them. the fog and the darkness won't help them, no. )

It seems this forest is largely dark overall. If whoever stole it ran into these woods, it stands to reason that they may know how to see in this mess - so why need a lantern? ... perhaps there's a darkness they can't see past? I think that is where to start.
windsongs: (049)

[personal profile] windsongs 2022-10-18 07:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ A fledgling herself when it comes to her own power (to her knowledge), the fact that she can't immediately sense the flow of this current slowly building around them is more than a bit worrying. The fear telegraphed in his face, literally there and gone in the blink of an eye adds more kindling to that fire. The small blonde stops, her hand jerking back slightly as stormy blue eyes search cerulean.

She knows a deflection when she sees one. Normally, she wouldn't press the issue. But maybe it's the blood loss and just... everything she's had to experience out there in the Oakwoods, but she doesn't have it in her to tip-toe around this. ]


Yes, I'm fine. But you're clearly not. [ Said surprisingly firmly for someone who willingly sliced her arm open. Not that he needs to know that part. ]

So let's compromise. We can both sit down, and you can tell me what the huge favor is.
windsongs: (024)

[personal profile] windsongs 2022-10-18 08:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ Well isn't this guy a peach? Her eyes narrow as he volleys hit after hit at her, painting her like she's some kind of naive child. The world can be a cruel, heartless place, but she isn't going to feed into that narrative. ]

How about, "Leave them alone unless they try to attack you"? Because, in case you haven't noticed, that one and all the other ones around here haven't done anything except for perch and screech. For all we know, that overeager spear arm of yours might provoke them to frenzy.

[ Exhaling sharply through her nose, she levels a piercing glare in his direction. ]

And as much as I'd like to help this one here or slug you in the jaw right now, I'm not exactly equipped for either. Why? Would you lob a stick at me too if I showed them some compassion?
dodgeouttahell: (25)

[personal profile] dodgeouttahell 2022-10-18 11:12 am (UTC)(link)
[The line of his eyes draws something fond, although not aimed at Hibiki herself. It feels like a pang in his chest, flurrying through his ribcage that has nothing to do with how injured he is—some sort of longing.] Mother Nyx is always like that.

[Starry-haired, dark-voiced; eyes bright like the moon. He almost winces at calling her 'Mother' out of habit, now knowing the truth. But who isn't she, if but the one who raised him along her real progeny?] You can never tell if it's night or day, whether you're in Tartarus, Asphodel, or Elysium. Ixion sure lights everything up, but it's very difficult to say.

[A head tilt.] Do you think they get brighter if we travel further away? I'd like to see that.
boarwitness: (No I don't need no help)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-18 11:23 am (UTC)(link)
Don't be a fool. Of course I've been doing things other than training. [he sniffs, flicking his head, a rather transparent sign of what he thinks about her summary of getting into fights.] Do you think I could survive without eating? How about money? How do you think I got this sword?

At least I'm not overworking myself being a busybody.

boarwitness: (I try to keep going)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-18 11:44 am (UTC)(link)
By your calculation.

[eyes narrowing slightly, he repeats the words, middling surprised he's even getting them. if he hadn't already been seated, he probably would have walked off by now.

but he was still here, so to hell with it. and doubtless sylvain would bother him about it if he heard he didn't ask more.]


Not at Gronder, younger than I am, full of vengeance towards you specifically—by your arithmetic, I'm adding up to be a different person.

[if it had been the first, it would have been more galling, but this was child's play compared to the boar.]
boarwitness: (Caught in the middle)

[personal profile] boarwitness 2022-10-18 12:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[no more war. it's unthinkable, a frankly insane concept, considering how long they've been at it for. but in this moment, it feels incredible—like someone lifting a heavy pack off his shoulders. had they ever really been free of the weighty burden of the eventual next battle? in faerghus, for as long as he'd ever known, there was no real peace—just time spent in limbo, the soft diplomacy of governance once the hard "diplomacy" had got its point across.

now there was no faerghus, no war, no dukedom, no king—the realisation nearly bowled him over. it really did feel wonderful. everything was possible, now.

at sylvain's question, felix's eyes go distant, but not bothered. simply thoughtful. the response is immediate, though.]


Yeah.

[he plucks a blade of grass, and twists it, staring back into the throng of people making merry. with one shoulder and his head, he gives a little half shrug, twirling the grass between two fingers.]

I don't think I'll completely stop. [it's more reflective than anything.] We can always spar.
m67: (pic#15980861)

izu is life

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-18 12:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ that's . . . better. it gives asa breathing room and enough to gather herself, bag her munched nut and pull out another to pull apart. an agreement— it starts with those, first.

once she's done, she cautiously holds the baseball-sized fruit out to her. ]
janescayre: (156)

Cw: eye gore

[personal profile] janescayre 2022-10-18 12:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[Though she is the first to dart free, she has the benefit of being drably dressed on a dark night. On the other hand, her companion is wearing yellow. The skeleton locks into Claude the second he's in sight, and its mad scramble grants her the perfect opportunity.

With a well-timed run-and-jump, she lights on the scapula, scampering ahead on weathered bones to the neck.

It senses her though. No skin and no muscles and it's still getting tickled by her little feets, what a rip off. One enormous hand cracks down from on high and Syo has to leap from spine to skull, dangling precariously along its cheek.

Only now she's got a better idea. What's big and gooey and the only soft spot to be found?

She heaves, she hos, she swings her legs around, past gnashing teeth, notching her feet in the nose holes. She cinches backwards on the cheek. One wrong move could spell her doom. She has to be quick.

Before it can swat her away, before it can snatch up Claude, Syo drives her scissors into one bulbous, glistening eye.

There's a howl of agony. Unearthly. Probably ear-drum damagining. Hers are ringing, woof, sounds nasty. She thrusts further in, hand suctioning into the goop, sleeve soaking thick as the viscous innards pulse, pump free.

She rips out just as it moves to slap her away — and just as her newest paramour comes flush with a ravine. He's darting to the side, she's dropping free before she gets smacked to Timbuktu. She lands quite close in a (mostly) graceful roll, on hands and knees as she watches the great brute stumble ahead, clutching its wounded socket.

Then it careens over. The weight of its hips and legs dragging over the edge makes the earth tremble.

And in a hilarious twist of fate, the rocks under their own feet give away.]
m67: (pic#15947967)

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-18 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ well, counting her mess and avoidance— ]

I'm fine.

[ her throat is tight and so is her voice, and to avoid this any further, she even tries to leave— the merchant complains, demanding she pays for it. asa, wanting to get away faster than she wanted to have another confrontation, quickly gives what's left of her coin and tries her best to flee. thing is, she's being cornered, either by onlookers or the merchant themselves. this ain't enough, you know.

she stays, then. she double takes up to kaine, however brief, but finds it best to keep her face down in case she has the chance to slip away unnoticed. ]
m67: (pic#15947980)

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-18 12:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ it's a western holiday, asa starts, but yoru seems more intent on asking out loud. crossing her arms and glancing down at that sorry, sorry pumpkin cut-out . . . ]

Trick . . . Or treat. [ humans are so. weird!! celebrating shit when you're dead!! ] Why not simply trick?
m67: (pic#15947964)

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-18 01:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ oh, so it's going to be that way. hm, the girl snobs, mirroring the intruder's movements and dipping her hand into her dress pocket. ]

Looking for this?

[ from yoru's pocket, she holds up . . . aha—! a phone! to joonhyuk's luck, he's not only in a different body. he's been immediately hijacked from it. no rights! no body rights for you! ]

You could cease to exist, for all I care. Like I said— This body is mine. [ he could try to talk to someone, and no one will hear him. he could try to touch or grab, but would only phase through anything solid. ] But if you want yours back? You'll fall in line.
m67: (pic#16007816)

[personal profile] m67 2022-10-18 01:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ he was on the money, and enough show of that shows in asa's avoiding silence. it's so much moping even she's tired of herself, straining her voice so it doesn't seem as if she's close to crying. it comes out thick and nasally instead. what's he trying to do? make her feel better in the face of a blatant truth? her shadow pipes up: yoͦuͧ'́dͩ вⷡeͤ lyiͥng ᴛⷮoͦ yoͦuͧrͬs͛eͤlf iͥf yoͦuͧ вⷡeͤliͥeͤvͮeͤdͩ ᴛⷮhͪaͣᴛⷮ. ]

It's never looked that way. [ and in a bout of melancholic vulnerability: ] I'm always the screw-up. That's the truth.