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

[coherer]

Uh, yeah, not even close. (remembering intimately what the hysteria his first day in stygia had felt like, jonas feels the same pressure at his sternum, but it differs slightly.) It's the thought that ultimately counts, but I'm way... way too deep into this harvest fest now, and "weird" doesn't even begin to cover it.

(he decides he's almost about ready to laugh himself sick at the entire experience and allow that to naturally conclude by sobbing uncontrollably into his hands. noctis' presence should be helping him to calm him down, but the fact that they shared an unplanned kiss thanks to the usurper naruto and his own traitorous libido, it's only making him sweat.)

I'm gonna warn you now, though, I stress-ate, like, three of those spicy nuts before you rolled up, and I am feeling— (he realizes too late that he's already reaching out in an effort to soak up the warmth of noctis' arm. it's turned, at the last second, into an awkward punch, and jonas, mortified, closes his eyes tightly and silently wishes another death on himself.)

Sorry.

[fessus]

[ The hand coming towards him is seen like a phantom after-image, and his own comes up in a too-late response to knock unhelpfully against his wrist. His correction, attempting to cover-up his lack of coordination with a grasp at Jonas's forearm instead, does not help matters.

He's warm. Warmer than the others.

His grip is slow to loosen, fingers pinching at the material of Jonas's sleeve with a soft tug before he's finally lightly shoving that arm back, even managing a quirk of his lips at how ridiculous they both look right now. And here he thought he was holding it together, or that at least the lingering after-effects of his own various food consumption would've moved on. ]

Okay... It's cool.

... it's actually not, it's a real pain in the ass, but I already basically admitted I had some too so I'm not saying it again... or judging.

–look, are you into this parade? If you're not maybe we can find some place away from all the noise, or at least somewhere to sit down. Then I can know you aren't going to do something stupid and I can get a break.

[ Noctis Lucis Caelum, establishing himself as the responsible one. ]

[coherer]

(blinking noctis back into existence, jonas discovers his own body is held at an angle, leaning heavily into the hand on his arm. he has little to say in defence of himself, eminently satisfied now that they're touching, too busy basking in the attention. it's not the influence of the grablenuts, however, that makes him consider noctis' action of pulling on his sleeve cute.

teeth dent the inside of a lip to ward off a bashful smile.)

Um, yeah, no one was asking you to, so... (jonas' eyes lift, dodging any responsibility that might come with staring at his comrade a little too long.) I'm cool with ducking out, but I resent that you think it'd be me causing problems out here. You've got the potential; I bet it'd be super easy to talk you into doing something bad to those poor floats.

C'mon, (he urges. his voice has lowered into something conspiratorial, and noctis may have had the willpower to released jonas, but jonas is unable to resist taking noctis' elbow to tow him along to the fringes of the crowd.)

I think there's a good spot a little past the corn maze.

[fessus]

Hah? Me?

[ Well well... how very dare you, sir. He turns with a harmless follow-up push when Jonas again reaches for him, his fight against that grip altogether unconvincing and his second fight against his own little smile one that he's soon losing. It spreads across normally stoic features as he shakes his head, trying in vain to dismiss it. ]

You've got the potential too, you just have zero creativity. [ He allows himself to be guided away from the bulk of the noise, a few background cheers drowning out the thump of drums as they put that ruckus behind them. Why are either of them even here? Are they this desperate for something to do, some way to distract themselves? Jonas knows his number. He could always call, couldn't he? ]

This place better be amazing. I'm trusting you now.

I can't tell you just how weird this day has been... I had to listen to this guy– do you know what a horse is?

[coherer]

(oh, if he only knew, jonas thinks a bit smugly. committing crime shouldn't be giving him an ego, of course, but everyone has their vices. his just happened to be breaking and entering. and nicking shiny objects like a magpie.)

God, chill, I said "I think," so don't pile all your eggs into this one basket. (noctis' smile reminds him of the expression naruto, flushed with embarrassment, forced his friend's face into. how does someone recuperate from having such an awkward conversation that culminated in his unconscious body being "brought back to life" by the mouth in front of him?

someone doesn't. someone—jonas—tries to ignore the looming elephant in his corner of the room.) It's just a place less densely populated than this place.

...

Horses are from Earth. Like, we probably invented horses. So, yeah, I know a thing or two about them. Mostly that they're occasionally evil for no reason.

[fessus]

Too late. Basket's there, eggs are in it, and if this goes south I'm blaming you for my whole evening getting ruined. Should be fine.

[ Only one step out of every ten is a bit uneven and in that regard he's doing well, leaning heavily into not only those strides forward but into his dry sarcasm to make himself appear as sober as possible. And, honestly, to try to suck a little of the tension out of the last many hours.

The tension... the guilt, and the embarrassment. ]

And anyway, what's with that description? Maa... The guy I was talking to was acting like they were the greatest animal ever. [ ... ] Scratch that. He was acting like they were the greatest anything ever.

He definitely skipped any part about them being evil.

[coherer]

Great, so... zero pressure, then.

(the grablenuts stew with alcohol in his stomach, combining unhelpfully into a compelling force that makes him want to reach out and toss his arm over noctis' shoulders. it might solve noctis' wobble. it might also make this weird.

fortunately, he has there wherewithal to resist the pull, chastise himself, and cross his arms to stay good.)

Ugh, I don't know... maybe I just don't have his horse vibes. Every horse I ever met—and I grew up in a place where, like, every farm outside the core city seemed to have at least one horse—hated me or wanted to see me fail. I swear to God they had neighbourhood meetings.

(turning mid-step to face him and walk backward, shrugging his shoulders up, jonas continues.) I'm about to make another generalization that you need to hear, because there is something to it. Horse people are unhinged. If someone has a horse shirt on, tread lightly.

Absolutely do not insult horses.

[fessus]

I don't want you to have his horse vibes...

[ It's muttered under his breath but certainly not hidden, brows lifted to convey his true feelings. That man? Was obsessive in a way that's clearly not healthy and will never be. ]

Where were you when I was talking to him? I could've used the warning... and the backup. [ A hand lifts to punch Jonas's shoulder when the teen turns and presents him with an opening.

He misses and swipes air. This is fine. ]

My point, anyway... was just that this day overall has been probably the second worst day here yet. You fare any better than me?

[coherer]

... Wow, that's a big miss. How are you so lame? (kind enough to point out the failure of a punch, jonas unfolds his arms. forgetting the pact he only just made with himself, he slaps at noctis' fist while it's still looming between them.

a woman near the corn maze looks on, grips the strap of her tote bag, and turns to hurry off in the opposite direction.)

I wouldn't have backed you up, I would've watched, highly entertained. It'd have been a highlight of my Frightful Harvest trauma. (this suggests that his day has also been the pits. approaching the blankies on which he'd carved a pumpkin man with rudbeckia, he spreads his arms to show the area off.) It's gotten better now, man—check this spot out. I actually came here to chill when things got too weird... now you know about it, too.

Is this... private enough for you or...?

[fessus]

Ah, sure, keep talking. You wanna' call me lame?

[ If Jonas were someone closer– no, not even that. If Jonas were someone he knew was a fighter, someone else who bonded with people on that level, he might light-heartedly challenge him to regain some semblance of honor over his level of coordination. Even recovering from inebriation as he is, he respects that invisible boundary.

Besides, his focus is now drawn to the cute array of blankets Jonas has led him to, a perfect spot to stargaze and listen to the now more distant parade uninterrupted. Nice, honestly. ]

Private enough? [ A brief pause, another brief quirk of his lips. ]

No way. Private enough for me would be behind closed doors. [ So says the very openly introverted young man who's socially exhausted, and yet that doesn't stop him from suddenly moving to sit and get himself comfortable, flopping back onto blankets with a near immediate fold of arms behind his head. Finally... ]

[coherer]

Haha, yeah, uh... I mean, I guess so.

(this is beginning to feel like a date.

it isn't a date, of course, when neither of them has asked the other to go on one, but it can still excite him in the same way. the comment "behind closed doors" is one jonas reacts to too positively, treading immediately—unwisely—onto the nest of blankets, where noctis currently lies, to set up right beside him.

he hadn't anticipated how difficult it'd be to look over, however. naruto breathing into him didn't feel good—that was an awkward but sincere technique to save a life that didn't happen to need saving. lips felt utopian in comparison with everything else he's gone through, though, and jonas is, at his rawest, a lonely teenager with a big heart. the "kiss" is on his mind and it makes him a bit shy, shutting his eyes.

the backs of his eyelids dance with impressions of the colours of the parade and festival lights. they all begin to swim, twist, and rotate. you drank too much, ignore it. focus.)

The only things that'd make this better would be, like, snacks and music.

[fessus]

[ The grablenuts have long since worn off, but he can still remember a desire for warmth. Jonas settles down next to him and he envisions it rolling off of him, stealing this moment as one that's simple, secure, and a much-needed reprieve from the energy and chaos of the distant party. Who would've thought they'd end up here, after their chance encounter on that sinking boat that brought them through the Tempest? Is it luck, or something else?

Whatever it is, he finds himself – not for the first time – grateful for Jonas's existence with him. ]

Snacks?

[ The stress on that single word says it all, almost theatrically weary. ]

Maybe music, and like... Cup Noodle, I guess. None of the snacks they gave us down there. [ His own eyes remain open as he stares up at the colorful sky above, a starscape almost rivaling that of Lucis. ]

... you know, even setting aside the food that was drugged or whatever... this was my first time having alcohol. [ CONTEMPLATIVE... ]

this icon is noctis' pov

[coherer]

No, no, (jonas continues, lying down while feeling compelled to get closer impossible, especially when his passion for snacks strikes.) I mean normal, not-spiked chips or something. I'd kill for a handful of Doritos. They're this... triangle-shaped corn chip covered in—well, I like Sweet Chili Heat ones, so they're—they've got all this seasoning on them.

(could he somehow secretly get against noctis' side without him noticing? that sounds creepy in his head, but all that's buzzing around his skull is the urge to share warmth with him. that this is noctis' first time drinking only makes him wiggle across the blanket.

when jonas reaches the outside of noctis' arm, the resulting position is not meant to be a nefarious loom. with wider eyes, a look of surprise, he realizes he's never met anyone older who hadn't already begun drinking. what does that say about noctis? what does that say about the people they surrounded themselves with?)

You never drank before? Was that, like, a personal choice thing or was your family strict or something?

his best angles

[fessus]

[ Their body language is telling an undeniable story but it isn't one that Noctis is reading. Being prone has the side effect of leaving him less to focus on, so other past side effects – all but worn off – are over-staying their welcome. He's comfortable here... and he can't suspect Jonas of anything when he's too preoccupied trying to hide his own spark of happiness.

It's embarrassing, isn't it? To enjoy his company this much in this moment? His struggles with openness leave him unable to express his excitement fully but he can allow that feeling into himself without the guilt catching up to it just yet. It's been a bad day, a bad week, and a devastating month. This pocket of time should be okay. The way Jonas smiles at him, and the warmth it gives him without a single touch, should be okay. ]

... are you explaining chips to me? [ A hand drops onto his face to rub at one eye as he does his very best not to smile. ] Great, now I want some... but anyway...

Strict is one way to say it. I guess more like... I mean, yeah, strict. But my dad had kind of a big social life. So doing something that could end up bad and visibly bad wasn't really an option.

I guess you asking means it's not your first time?

[coherer]

I know, like... why are we even here when we could be ditching this whole thing to raid a convenience store? (maybe he's mansplaining chips, but his mouth won't stop moving. at this rate, anything is liable to spill out, excited by someone who actually wants him there and wants to hear what he has to say.

it's his turn to listen, however, and jonas considers himself good at that.

noctis' life sounds sheltered—rich family? well-known in their community, maybe—and full of expectation. it doesn't raise any flags; the eighteen-year-old, oblivious, props his cheek up on his hand and manages a little shrug. he's helpless to the mood, rocking a little on his elbows so that his arm presses repeatedly against his friend's.)

It's not my first time. My parents didn't care that I drank—I mean, they did in their own way, but they had a lot going on that mattered more.

This is probably weird to say, Noctis, but we're nowhere near home. You're not gonna disappoint me if you get trashed and puke on your own shoes in public. So, it's an option now, right? We can kinda do whatever we want, (jonas suggests innocently, despite the last cycle of jostling noctis ending in a deep lean.

he means to reach over noctis for the opposite side of the blanket, wanting to playfully yank it over him and roll him into a warm cocoon, then bludgeon him, perhaps, with the sitting pillows nearby. unfortunately, sudden and overwhelming vertigo forces the heel of his palm to slip against soft material, and with no firm grip anywhere, jonas' arm crashes down hard onto his friend's stomach.)