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

[windsongs]

[ She freezes as he places his hand on her head, gaze moving back to him as gently caresses it. Clearly dumbfounded by the gesture, she blinks a few times as he lifts his hand and offers it out.

He's helping her up, but that-- ]

...What?

[ Just a general "what". Because there is A Fucking Lot going on here. But at least she let him help? ]

[invinciblemikey]

We're blonde. If we don't deal with that, it's going to get stained, ain't it? I don't want to ask a reaper if they've got purple shampoo going on.

(he's pointing to his head, now red covering most of the white in varying shades of pink, orange, and crimson. he'd know even without it - he's naturally blonde himself, and often covered in blood.

there are beheaded bodies, and well, mikey avoids some, but steps on others. it is what it is.)

[invinciblemikey]

(hibiki is managing to pull parts of mikey he himself had buried, and well, it wouldn't be happening without the strange food they've being served. it's terrifying to let her see it, but you know? he's after-life fucked up. he'll regret it later. right now, he's just laughing and throwing his arms up as a teen would.)

That. Was. Awesome!!!

[invinciblemikey]

Or maybe we should. Selling this would make one hella coin.

(or, well, literally everything else they've been served. he does kind of want to keep some of each for future business, but-- well, what for, really? there's no purpose other than to soothe himself in times of need.

cups clink in cheers, and he sips.)

Only thing I'm not on board is that... Spicy thing. I'm not into spicy food.

[sonofrome]

Ego sum vultus pro sic dicta nobilis "Puck" cum cornu. Plus comperto ex his castris, et providere, nos non modo partum aut recreating nostra arma. Quid est ventus tam acuta omnis subita? )I am looking for the so-called famous "Puck" with the lantern. Plus finding out from these camps, they provide us with no way of creating or recreating our weapons. Why is the wind so sharp like a dagger all of a sudden?

Marius was getting more questions than answers and it frustrated him. It was like the gods wanted him to be frustrated or whoever ran this place.

Camps were littered with dead bodies. Surely, they would have weapons on them upon death, right? After searching for a camp, Marius found nothing worth talking about.

((Give it up, pal. you are being thrown for a loop and surely the goddess Summer would of showed you the way by now.))

*OOC note, in brackets is Marius's shadow.

[coherer]

What, did you actually think I was gonna be a creep or were you just teasing me? (he asks wryly, more harmless blustering, his low laugh ruining his faux indignance. not oblivious, jonas also knows that asa's flirting with him. he thinks he understands why: his mother told him he was handsome frequently enough for him to believe it, and others have noted the same. in addition to that, he's tall and athletic, which is two more points in his favour. asa's attraction, however, seems to stem primarily from his sense of humour. it flatters jonas, as does the way asa smiles up at him, the way she brushes her arm against his arm, and the way she plays with her hair like that— his hand catches the back of her elbow, intending to ask her again about going to see that movie. on contact, however, jonas is hit with a wall of intense vertigo and is soon relying heavily on the balance holding her arm affords him. though brief, this feeling struck him earlier in the day when he was speaking with set before the music show. his fears are made a reality when the first thing he sees through new eyes is the sleeve of his own jacket, which makes him yank a slender arm away from a grasping hand to more freely look down at an alien body—predictably, jonas gets an eyeful of curves, and his head has never snapped up so quickly, throat tight as he stares at the sky.) Oh, no, (jonas pleads in asa's voice, much louder in his own pattern now that he has control of her vocal cords.) Oh, Jesus—again? Now?

3B

[pissoffbook]

[Kainé is sitting nearby when Mikey makes his offer. She looks at him, then around to make sure he's referring to her. He probably figured sure needed the blanket based on the lingerie she wears. Really though, she's not cold, she just wants to be close to someone and cuddle. Normally she would be too shy to try to do such a thing with a complete stranger, but maybe it was the garblenuts of her own she ate affecting her, but she's pretty much unconcerned about everything right now.

So she looks back at him and nods, hopping off the bench she was seated on and edges over to him. Despite lowered inhibitions about it, she still can't help the slight pinkening of her pale cheeks as she crawls under the blanket with him.]

You're sure?

[coherer]

Yeah, one winning round in Trivial Pursuit, oh boy, (jonas drawls, taking another swig of tea.

actually, he fucks with this stuff. it's not bad for tea, and he even hums despite himself. so much for looking cool, as if it were ever on the table.)

Do you... usually stop by things like this? Oregon—we had a few festivals, but, like, nothing like this. It was mostly just farm-related. "Biggest gourd in the county!"

[zauneyete]

I noticed.

[ His tone is wry, as if he was saying something that was obvious. ]

Secretive authority force, where the only way in is if they deign you worthy? [ That slide of sarcasm never leaves his tone, although there's a line of steel underneath it, a foundation that his thoughts are built upon. ]

Perhaps I'll have to make myself of interested to them. But not too much interest, mind. I've already heard what they do to those they consider...unsavory.

[damnpire]

[DON'T TALK ABOUT LACKING SELF-PRESERVATION ONLY TO RUN INTO THE DOOR MOUTH!!

Standing at the peak of the roof, D does in fact hear Joonghyuk muttering inside the house. But the thing doesn't give him any time to dwaddle. Its spindly, wooden arms circle up and over the roof after him--why are there four? That's two too many. D races away. Joonghyuk can hear the pattering of his feet going down the slope of the roof to the edge.

He vaults it as the arms twist toward him, using one hand to catch the roof line and swing back. He crashes feet-first through one of the windows much to the howling of the house. Hope it wasn't an eye.

Except he lands in a crouch near Joonghyuk. Hello. BUT!]

I saw him in one of the rooms.

[damnpire]

[Sometimes, Mom gives you the good genes. Like not be a corpse.

He really sits there like a statue while Mikey squishes his face between both hands. Thank you, Mikey. It's not that he underestimates Mikey's skill; he simply understands Mikey probably isn't going to try snapping his neck.

And even if Mikey tried, D is pretty fast.]

My mother was human.

[He does not say shit about his dad, but... it's implied. Dad is the vampire.]

[windsongs]

[ But there are people dying here? Again?? When he gives his reason, all she can really do is offer an extremely sardonic, very thin smile at him, ]

I think you're too late for that, Mikey-san...

[ So is she, but hats thankfully exist in this creepy hellscape that might actually be hell. Her temple is already stained, and now she's got a nice, giant crimson blotch on the top of her head. But it's fine. ]

So wait, you're really just gonna leave? While people still need help? And you expect me to come with you?

[ Says the woman who has been at this for entirely too long, and is going to be absolutely dead on her feet once she gets away from here. ]

[invinciblemikey]

(mhm? it takes him a moment to realize what exactly does she mean, and then he looks around a beat, two beats... oh, yeah. that's right.)

These are not my people. I don't really care - and it's nothing much for me to see something like this. People may think of you as a monster, but people who know me are sure of it. If you don't want to wash your hair, don't complain later when it stains, okay?

[windsongs]

[ And that is exactly the kind of reaction she was going for! Man, weird drunken Mikey is the best!! ]

I know, right? Gets pretty good mileage too, and it's dirt cheap on fuel and maintenance!

[ Hibiki you're admitting to a lot more than you think you are with that joke ]

[ulfrkysst]

[Eivor glances back to Fukawa, the corners of her mouth twitching downward. This man—this being—is not mortal, that much is clear. Whether he's jǫtunn or something else entirely, she isn't clear. But deals with otherworldly entities shouldn't be entered into blindly.]

Name them and we shall see.

[The man's smile only widens, and Eivor isn't sure if she's threatened or put at ease. "I only request an answer, friends, to a simple question. But beware—answer wrong and I foresee harpy's wine spilling to the earth."]

so adorable!!! adds horror movie stills to visualosities

[janescayre]

[When he says he believes her, she buys it. The rest?]

D-don't give yourself a hernia... [It's a bitter grumble paired with a dead-eyed stare, but hell. Even she can't deny his apprehension is well-deserved.

Still, enough tension has been cut that he's talking. Blabbering rather, calling her sister again, which makes her frown but draws no further fire. If he doesn't want to be near her, fine. Whatever. If their nerves are always going to be on red alert it would be best if they never saw each other again. Why make death any more difficult than it has to be?

She crunches up tighter and shakes her head at the offered smokes. She doesn't understand why anyone would start, especially in this day and age. She hates the smell. Maybe that's rich coming from someone who was regularly compared to dumpster fodder, but all the same it's a foul habit. She'd berate him for indulging, if he didn't bridge the gap with her given name.]

Ah?! [While she'd paled to snow white before, her cheeks are quick to hit a plum blossom pink.] No! N-no, no no, I'm—

[Deep breath, it's not like he knows what he's doing. He even admits his floundering knowledge. Her hands clap over her face even so. She'd nearly wilted to her knees when Komaru had called her by it, and that girl was her only friend on Earth.]

Fukawa! P-please. Just Fukawa. Nobody calls me T-T-T...Ugh, shit. [As if she didn't already come off as a hot mess. She pries her hands away, but her eyes are downcast. Her nose and ears are blooming red, too. She swallows thickly.] Unless you're some airheaded girl trying to be cute, g-given names are for friends.

[This is awkward. She purses her lips. She has his name, he has hers. Are they done here? Or, does she try to mend this bridge? Even a little? How do you move a conversation along after all all this?]

...Are you American?

[Winning observation, that.]

[nagano]

[ While soaring across the campsite, silver light bleeds out from Kaito's open hand. A thousand thoughts blur together in his mind, from trying to predict the wyvern's attack patterns to considering how he can best facilitate Hibiki's magic.

Amidst the monsoon of possibilities, one stands out. Kaito decides to pull the trigger. His spear melts away.

By the time he lands on his feet, the wyvern is mere yards away. He whirls around to face it, staring directly into the jaws of death—and the beast's talons shear through his midsection with little resistance.

Little resistance save the water that clings to its nails. Quietly, Kaito's Shadow exhales a sigh. Is that relief or exasperation?

It doesn't matter. That glowing aura in his hands has disappeared. Or rather, relocated. High above the makeshift arena, a giant gunbai materializes. Kaito swings both arms from left to right, and the construct sends a strong draft towards the ground.

It lacks any actual destructive power... but someone else can take care of that. ]

[janescayre]

A riddle, huh?

[It figures. Her lips purse. She knows a fair few, they're common enough in both myth and literature. And she's got a broad enough expanse of knowledge, thanks to piles of writing research. Not to mention a spectacular vernacular.

Though the last time her wits had been tested with a deathly outcome, she'd been of little use to anyone. It was beyond her how anyone else had kept their cool in Class Trials.

But it's not just her life on the line this time, or a dozen grating classmates. It's all the citizens of Serene. And she has some company: they may be nearly strangers, but without any backup she has to trust that Eivor wouldn't endanger either of them. And neither would she.

Fukawa sets her jaw straight. Even steps a bit out from behind her human shield.]

I'm all right w-with that. I've had to take shittier deals than this.

[janescayre]

Yeah...

[AAAAAAUGH.]

Okay...

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAURGH.

Fukawa watches him go with all the blood in her body ballooning in her head. Her feet are anchored to the spot in rigid humiliation.

Just once, just once, can she speak to someone and not completely fuck it up? Especially when they're that gorgeous. And being nice to her for a change, god, she could just die all over again!

Once he's safely out of earshot she yanks at her hair and cusses herself out, stamps her feet. Then she's on her way too. There's still a madman on the loose after all, and if she got caught in the open again? Her luck may just run out this time.

Fukawa darts into the first open door she finds, and takes quick shelter there. She'll wait until there's voices in the streets again, then slither back home to scream into a pillow. Au revoir, Cedrik Reede, and bonne chance.]

[nagano]

[ For a moment, Kaito wonders if he's actually struck a chord with her. Fingers drum quietly at his sides, and he contemplates preparing yet another round of Gak Nagoopno.

Yet a wave of emotions sweep over her aura, and while his posture doesn't shift, Kaito inwardly sighs his relief. He doesn't have to be the catalyst to get her to change her mind—he just needed to provoke a memory of someone or something that could.

Her sneer (which, admittedly, is kinda cool) is met with a level smile. A swipe of the empath's hands pulls away the slime binding Syo. Although it feels about as pleasant as goop being peeled off skin and fabric, at least it isn't painful. Once the mass is a head-sized sphere floating above his palm, his eyes fade to their natural gold and the water dissolves. ]

Thank you.

[ A beat. A very quick beat. ]

Anyway, neither are as incredible as the rumors put them up to be. That's just how rumors are, yeah? [ Arms fold over his chest. ]

Now, should we try and get that lantern the proper way? ...Did that fae even stick around while we were bickering?

[nagano]

[ Kaito has little qualms with trespassing. If nobody's going to stop them, that's good enough for now.

Brows quirk high as they shuffle their way along the paths (and through the occasional wall that would normally constitute a dead end). ]

Wait, you can read that deep into her aura? I can't even read their gender. It's just emotions for me.

[ Emotions and memories, but nobody really needs to know the second part. ]

[janescayre]

[Whatever arcane magic that allows thoughts to slide between their heads lends equally well to emotions. Brushing against her mounting indignation is a softer thing. A cooling balm that drags her down, makes her look the girl in the eyes as she assumes the seat at her side.

Asa, she calls herself. And she's not lying, it seems the feeling's very mutual, but her take on the situation runs closer to commiseration. The squeeze of shame cinches her middle, and Fukawa finds all her harsh words are dissipating.

Someone who gets it. Really gets it. She wets her lips and tugs at her fingers.]

F-Fukawa. [She offers. Family names only for her. There's a weight now, an apology unspoken.] D-don't. Just...It's their fault. Not ours.

[Like always. She studies the girl now, curious.]

So. Um. If "Yoru" isn't another personality, then...

[Outside of the absurd, she's kind of stumped there. Which means it's definitely going to be absurd, isn't it?]

[windsongs]

[ Much like the wyvern hurdling toward Kaito, Hibiki doesn't get much time to react before things start getting Really Stupid. He's lucky that she's some level of precog, because while she doesn't know the exacts on what he's doing, she knows what she needs to be doing in response. Bounding toward the clash, she feels the subtle shift in airflow even before she notices the gunbai in the sky and taps into it.

Quite literally. As soon as she breezes past, a hand cutting through the downdraft as her brows knit in deep concentration, the downward pressure exploding as one gunbai swing drives the beast into the ground with the force of a freight train. Poor Puck this shit I'm out's fairy circle looks more like a donut now, with the impact creating a sizable crater perfectly in the middle.

Sliding to a stop, the small blonde whirls around to face the wyvern attempting to climb out of the hole. The tears in its wings don't look any larger, but considering the odd angle at which one of them is bent, it won't be taking off any time soon. ]

Why didn't you tell me you could do that?!

[ What 'that' is she talking about? Go ahead and pick one, Kaito. ]

I believe that that, as they say, should be my line.

[ A familiar voice calls from the comfort of his log, which is currently floating (with fae sitting on it, of course) from the top of the tattered tent. The bottle from before hovers in the air, while he continues to hold the lantern in his hand. How long has he been there? Doesn't matter. Time is a lie and he's here now. Look, he's even waving hello with his free hand.

Hello down there, how are you kids doing? Having fun yet? ]

[zauneyete]

It's hardly thanks I need.

[ He said, with a scoff. If anything, Silco can't imagine he did much more than give her a push, and even then...

The man wasn't exactly trying to help her become a better person, was he? Maybe freer, or at least someone who didn't cry about being a screw-up. There's even a part of him, down in his black pit of a heart, where he feels a little bad for her. Just like all those years ago, when he'd found a little girl crying in the street, he'd thought to just...deal with her, perhaps cart her away to the factory, or something, but...

Just like now, Silco often feels a little bit like he doesn't have total control of himself, in situations like this. ]

Besides, I knew someone quite similar, before I arrived here. Sometimes, a push toward moving past the mistakes is all someone needs to become...the freest version of themselves that they can be.

[ Not best, though. No, never that. ]

[windsongs]

[ His people, he says. She knows who he's talking about even if she's never met them. Never will meet them. But a boss takes care of their own and nobody else, even she knows that. Which is why Hibiki heaves a quiet sigh, looking briefly conflicted before bringing a hand to the side of her head; wincing, then settling to rest it by her hip instead. ]

Then... I guess I'm lucky you're trying to look out for me. [ A beat, as she relents. A little rest would probably be good for her, and not just vocally. ]

They'll probably still be at it in a couple of hours anyway.