logs | ♰ Before the Next Sacrifice

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♰ Before the Next Sacrifice

WHO: Augustine G. Rosethrawn & others (Open To All)
WHERE: Stygia (mainly Serene)
WHEN: Throughout all of October
WHAT: October Event + General Catch-all
WARNINGS: Possible violence, swearing, and mentions of death.

[ I'll be adding more prompts throughout the week featuring the event stuff in question. If you would like to plot with me, feel free to drop me a DM or hit me up on

devillady. I'm always more than happy to make a starter or two. So don't be shy. Also, you're welcome to make your own starters as well. ]

PLOTTING 🌹 EVENT🌹 WILDCARD

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KNOCK ON WOOD (Closed to Cedrik)

[This is the perfect chance for him to explore beyond what he knows of Stygia.

Augustine quickly grew bored of her after venturing here from the Shadowlands. It was a perilous venture, one that nearly claimed his “life” but thankfully, the gods felt merciful. Life within this city was less than desirable thanks to having little to no income but thankfully, this may change.

The frantic message he received on his cellphone wasn’t just a prelude to peril but also an opportunity dressed in danger. He knows nothing about the Oakwoods or the beasts hiding there but this opportunity to explore the innermost parts of Serene couldn't have come at a better time. It’s with the promise of reward that the red-haired dampir sets off deeper into the city. The twilight sky is still edged with the faintest hues of pinks and orange giving the landscape before him an almost summer-ish haze. However, the climate here is anything but warm since Stygia itself is devoid of anything akin to warmth.

Even though Serene is a part of Stygia, most of this district feels oddly foreign to him. There’s more trees than people here, that much is apparent judging from the lush woodland backdrop. It’s the smallest of all the districts and yet it holds the most charm in the form of its colorful gardens, expansive ponds, and narrow streams. It’s a little piece of paradise within the cold shell of Stygia proper, an oasis built by the sacrifices of its founders. However, the tranquility of this man-made heaven is now being put to the test now that a magical lantern has gone missing.

A frustrated sigh escapes Augustine as he wanders along the outskirts of the woods in search of anyone or anything that could assist in his venture. Between the gentle crunch of dead leaves beneath his heel and the dark murmuring of something within, the dhampir doesn’t know what to expect. It’s deathly silent here, still like a morgue. It’s clear that something malevolent is afoot here, especially with those awful harpies crooning from the canopy above.]

I can go without the cackling buzzards.

[He grumbles under his breath as he pushes through the reed and bush. His temper is going to be his bane.]

(ooc: this will be two separate threads! one for cedrik and one of D)

THE SINNER’S FESTIVAL (OTA)

[Forever playing the role of the winsome wallflower content by watching others celebrate, Augustine lingers not too far from the celebration with a faint smile upon his lips. The Frightful Harvest has begun, an age old tradition of the Restless here that marks the beginning of Respite. If any semblance of peace is meant to be had here in Stygia it would be now during this moment of tranquility.

The people of this realm celebrate the coming of such peace even though their numbers have suddenly swelled to new heights. An unspoken question lingers in the air under all this charming merriment, one that questions the very stability of Stygia itself. While Augustine still doubts he’s “dead”, he’s starting to warm to the idea that this realm is nothing more than a self-made purgatory for uncleaned souls. That certainly makes more sense than anything else, especially as he watches the debauchery that takes foot. While he’s not against enjoying a drink or two, he’s certainly against the idea of gorging himself on endless delectables when there’s a possible faminine looming overhead.

Nevertheless, Augustine finds some enjoyment in watching others celebrate. However, he does give a shaky smile when a random person asks him to join them. He quickly shakes his head as he politely declines with an uneasy smile. The dhampir isn’t the dancing type. Well, not in public at the very least. He’s quite prudish despite being a creature of the night. Always has and always will be but with careful pestering, he just might comply.

Unlike some others of his kind, Augustine isn’t as stern as he seems.]

WAYWARD SUN (OTA)

[The moment he catches a whiff of blood in the air, Augustine realized something was wrong. He figured that this lovely jubilee would turn south but he didn’t expect such upheaval. The blood curdling shriek is like a punch in the gut, a cold reminder of the horrors this realm plans to inflict upon him. He was one of the many party-goers to excuse themselves to investigate the matter. Just when Augustine was about to inquire about the noise, a stampede of fleeing onlookers rushed from the direction of the screams. Bewildered, a horrific sense of dread over claims him as something lurches towards him. He’s frozen in place momentarily, his heart racing as the headless silhouette of a creature shrouded in a black veil of cloth approaches.

He’s seen his fair share of fantastical beasts but nothing quite as gruesome as the headless horseman before him. The pungent smell of death engulfs him, snapping him out of his frightful trance as the horseman swings his blade. If it wasn’t for his fast reflexes, Augustine would’ve died right then and there. The blade narrowly misses his head, drawing first blood upon the dhampir’s pale neck. Augustine lets out a pained hiss as he quickly scurries out of the way. However, the two fellows he was conversing with earlier weren’t too fortunate.

Blood paints the town red as heads rolled down the hay covered streets. Pure chaos ensues. Suddenly there’s hundreds and hundreds of people rushing past him. The stampede is almost as deadly as the monster who caused it. People are being trampled alive trying to escape the horseman, some of them of which will never rise again at this rate. Quickly processing the carnage before him, Augustine springs into action.

While the bloodshed certainly ruined his finely made suit, he uses his blood to his advantage and forms a translucent crimson blade within his right hand. It’s obvious what he plans to do but can the dhampir hold his own against the headless horseman, alone? Probably not.]

Edited 2022-10-06 21:40 (UTC)

(ooc: feel free to make your own prompt here!)

[ His first (and last) visit to Serene was a much more soothing affair. It had been decades since he last made his home in the wood and while Serene was not the foothill forests that he once knew, it stirred at his memories all the same. Or maybe it’s because he’s dead that he felt so nostalgic. Gridania never made him feel this way...

Nor is he feeling much now, long ears picking up the distant hissing whispers of something lurking deeper through the trees, well out of sight but still far too close for comfort. So of course he presses on, grip tight on the one weapon he'd found: a rusted fisherman's knife, discarded by its last owner. Actually getting into a fight with the thing would be asking for more trouble, one wrong twist would snap the blade like a twig. But it’s what he has to work with, and he’s not about to let the locals' cry for help go unanswered. ]

...should have joined the pugilists'...

[ The unsettling atmosphere is made more so by a sudden shrill cackle from up ahead. ]

Dead! Deaaaaad! Khehehehe!

[ Harpies, the same ones jeering down at Augustine, grab Cedrik's attention. Without another thought he rushes forward, ducking beneath branches and clearing the undergrowth that would slow him down. Bursting onto the scene startles the harpies, causing them to squawk and flutter, a few greasy feathers drifting down. But they do not move to attack, nor do they retreat, instead bursting into another fit of laughter. They’re safe up where they are and they know it. And now they’ll have double the meat. As far as they’re concerned, this is a fantastic day.

Cedrik scowls up at the creatures and slowly eases his stance when no attack comes. Only then does he turn his attention to the other Restless, brow lifting as he recognizes the face as a familiar one. ]

…Augustine?

[ The picture Soulidarity showed him was small but Cedrik’s able to put a name to the face. He also notices that…Augustine is actually purple.

Huh. ]

[Distracted by the harpies, Augustine almost didn’t notice the approach of another. He quickly turns towards the direction of the rustling leaves and presses his makeshift knife against his palm. Blood sorcery is a messy affair but it’s the only way he can defend himself momentarily. Until he’s able to renew his contract with the archfiend, he won’t be able to call upon the shadows. This is why he brought that knife with him. While he could easily split open his palm using his fangs, he much rather not. After all, Augustine cannot stand the taste of his own blood.]

Who are you? [He asks as the silhouette draws nearer. Those pesky buzzards are still heckling him but he chooses to ignore them for now.] You best be on your–

[He trails off suddenly the second he recognizes that familiar face. That’s none other than Cedrik, that adventurer he spoke with on the network. While their image upon Soulidarity was a bit blurry at best, there’s no mistaking this fellow for him. That’s Cedrik alright and apparently…he has rather tall ears.]

Oh.

[He’s left speechless once he sees those peculiar rabbit-like ears. Augustine was vaguely aware that Cedrik wasn’t quite human thanks to his odd features alone but he didn’t notice the rabbit ears until now. Much like how Cedrik probably didn’t notice that Augustine here is indeed purple with leathery red webbed wings. While he's still dressed to the nines in his Sunday's best, Augustine's bat-like wings stand out against the red of his suit. They're medium sized in length, almost touching his thighs. The inside of the wings are a dusky blue that almost looks as purple as his complexion. It's an odd feature, one that cannot be mistaken for anything "normal".

Well, this is awkward.]

Ah, greetings! You must be Cedrik, yes?

[He lowers the knife from his hand and places it somewhere on his person. Cedrik is no threat, right? He certainly hopes so.]

[If D sneaks up on Augustine in the Oakwoods, it isn't intentional. He didn't take the torch the old woman, Myrtille, offered because he can see in the dark. (Though he did consider it as a means of weaponry; there are plenty of things on the Frontier who dislike fire.)

Even wrapped from head to foot in the most ridiculous amount of cloth, even with spurs on the backs of his boots, he somehow manages to walk without making a whole lot of sound. To Augustine, it's light but still there. The plush crunch of moss underfoot, the way the ground shifts to accommodate him. The harpies, too, lingering above in the distance, chanting. And the dark, catastrophic aura following him where he goes, an inner gravity dampened by the way this place takes from them the height of their abilities.

He's not there, and then he is just there, spit out of the shadows as a silhouette and nearly invisible against the dark. His pale face is the only bright thing, floating in the nothing. But he stops a yard or so away, giving Augustine room to recognize him.]

Are you here for the lantern?

[Augustine didn’t even bother with the torch either. His unnatural eyes are better suited for the dark anyways. His sclera is completely black and the irises glow like rubies in the dark. He looks every bit like a demon right now, webbed wings and all, but his love for extravagance makes him appear less severe. While the long red coat he wears is getting a bit frayed at the edges, Augustine still looks like an aristocrat. He doesn’t really belong out here among the reeds and bushes. Not at all but Augustine already volunteered himself to the cause.

It’s difficult to sneak up on him, especially since his hearing is so acute. However, the constant heckling of harpies above distracts him. They’re too noisy for his liking, every grotesque chuckle causing him to frown in discomfort. Those pointed ears aren’t for decoration, you know? Nevertheless, the hunter manages to sneak up upon the purple dhampir fairly too easily for his liking.

That's why when D speaks, Augustine nearly draws his blade.]

Ah, I should’ve known you would come.

[He all but grumbles as he pockets the knife within his hand. It’s not much in means of defense but perfect for him to tap into his dark arts. All he needs is a meager drop of his blood to perform his special brand of sorcery.]

Yes, I am but unfortunately I find myself being accosted by vultures.

[He turns his frustration towards the harpies.]

[ Gilia has had no such qualms, apparently. Perhaps in the beginning, she would insist that this was a younger woman's game, and she has quite serious reservations, on the whole matter.

The last time she had danced, someone had stabbed her in the throat, after all.

But a bite of this, a sip of that, and the pull of the changing weather? She has forgotten those concerns. Why had she not wanted to dance? She had always loved it. She sang, too, until the same reason had stopped her, and now her voice is a rasp in forcing herself too long, her veil pushed back from her hair and the great length of her hair exposed, her cheeks flushed from exertion. Swung from the arms of one dancer to another as gladly as she passes others along. The way she dances best, when prompted is a feat more than simply moving. Jumping, turning, spinning herself like a top with long kicks of her legs that sends her hair flying in an arc as she goes and goes and goes.

Which is the manner which she finds him, stopping to catch her breath. Spying him tucked against the wall, hidden away. ]

Master Augustine! [ She is in her cups, though holding it well, there is that pleasant languidness to her smile, the relaxed crinkle in the corner of her eye. That too bold way she lifts her head and does not seem to care for the bruise on her cheek or the scar that never leave her that can just be seen over the high collar of her dress. ] Roses should not hide so sweetly in corners! Have you found no one to dance with?

[The second he heard his name, Augustine knew he was in trouble.]

Ah, greetings Lady Gilia. [He greets her with something akin to a cautious smile.] It seems you’ve been enjoying yourself.

[His crimson gaze lingers upon the cup within her hand. It’s clearly alcohol judging from the scent. Even in this crowd of hundreds, his senses are as sharp as ever before. That’s why he cannot help but look a bit concerned once he recognizes that playful gleam within Gilia’s eyes. He knows that look all too well.]

Not quite! It seems all the lovely dancers are taken.

[A nervous chuckle escapes him as he tries to sink further into the shadows. Alas, he cannot since his powers are still not what they should be. Any other time, he would’ve escaped by now.]

I take it you’ve been dancing the night away.

[Judging from the exertion on her face and the faint dusting of red across her cheeks, that’s a yes. He spotted her in the crowd a few times earlier but lost track of her within all this merrymaking. Vampire or not, it’s difficult for him to keep track of everything happening here.]

Edited 2022-10-07 14:14 (UTC)

[The twitch to draw a blade is expected and valid, so it doesn't bother D at all. He doesn't budge. There's an understanding that Augustine wouldn't attack him unnecessarily, and an understanding he can protect himself.]

Don't pay them any mind.

[Once the blade is gone, once Augustine has realized it's him, he closes the distance between them to come stand an arm's stretch away on Augustine's side. The harpies don't get a second glance from him. Though, strangely, their chattering has become more annoying to him than he thinks it usually would. This makes him a little suspicious.]

They don't have it.

[The lantern, he means. He starts walking on ahead, pace slow.]

They don't?

[He quickly falls into step with D, his gaze lingering upon the canopy above. While he's almost certain the harpies won't attack them, Augustine is hesitant to leave that to chance. He's quite aware of how dangerous they are thanks to past experience, most of which transpired in his realm. His dislike for these fiends is why the city of Hawthorne was always harpy-free.]

Well, of course not. These overgrown pigeons would've said so by now.

[A sigh escapes him as he glances towards the hunter. D is an enigma to him, a daunting one at that. Yet in the same breath, oddly familiar. Nevertheless, he's grateful for the hunter's presence. Venturing out here into the unknowns was a foolish idea but then again, Augustine honestly wanted an excuse to visit Serene. After all, it's the only part of Stygia that reminds him of home.]

That begs the question then, who stole it?

[Sometimes even on the Frontier, mutants do not attack. Monsters will, but genetically altered mutants who are sentient have their own morals, and loyalties, and desires like everyone else.

When the harpies did little more than obnoxiously call to him, he figured they did not have the lantern. They hadn't been brandishing it either.]

I don't know.

[But regardless, he keeps walking through the woods with Augustine in tow. The dark is not something he's wary of most of the time; however, here it seems to be riling up the new voice inside him. This may not bode well. It's fine...

All at once, he comes to a stop. He turns his head ever so slightly, silent, like he's listening. Faintly, a melody. His eyes shift to Augustine as if he's trying to see whether the other man hears it as well.]

[Augustine pauses briefly once he hears something in the distance. It's quiet little hum, one that would easily go unnoticed by mortal ears. He stands there for a moment in complete silence, his crimson gaze focused upon what seems to be a small clear up ahead. He nods towards the hunter before daring to find the source of that melody. Now inching behind the shadows of a nearby tree, Augustine cannot help but squint once he sees a silhouette within the darkness.]

Well, well, well... [Lets out an humored chuckle once he sees the youth seated within the clearing. It's a boy, a young man judging from the shape and scent. While they're a little too far off for him to make out their features, he can see the faint orange glow beside them.]

It seems that we have our culprit.

[He murmurs as he glances towards D again. It goes without saying that this is a little too convenient to be plausible. While Augustine wouldn't dare call himself paranoid, he does possess a healthy dose of skepticism. That's why instead of simply barging out there into the clearing, he lingers within the shadows for now.]

Edited 2022-10-07 20:48 (UTC)

[ The trouble with viera ears is they're a bit difficult to fit into a camera's frame without losing more important details. Much like Augustine's wings were decidedly not in any of the man's pictures from what Cedrik could tell at the time. The darker skin and pointed ears first reminded Cedrik of a duskwight elezen--even if he's never seen that particular shade of skin on one before. But there's no getting around the wings. For a moment the harpies are forgotten entirely as both men take a moment to boggle at the other.

The moment Augustine calls him by name, however, the viera snaps out of it. ]

Aye...well met, Augustine.

[ Shaking the last of his surprise off, Cedrik tucks his own weapon back into his belt and steps forward, offering an open hand. He's dressed far more modestly and more suited to rough terrain, though it's far from the armor he wishes he still had. ]

I'd meant to send word that the happenings here might keep me from our planned meeting, but it seems there was naught to worry over. You're here for the lantern as well, I assume?

[A hesitant smile forms upon his lips. It seems the two of them are both a bit baffled right now. Augustine has seen his fair share of fantastical creatures before but never has he met a man donning rabbit ears. This is the first for him but somehow he manages to tear his gaze away from the fluffy black ears long enough to acknowledge Cedrik properly.]

Well met, indeed.

[The dhampir chuckles as he takes Cedrik's hand for a firm shake. He's a little cool to the touch but not frigidly so. More lukewarm than anything else but far cooler than the average person. His long fingers are slightly calloused at the tips, obvious from hard labor of some sort. Cedrik probably won't believe that this frightening fellow has a passion for gardening.]

Yes, my curiosity led me for better or for worse.

[He briefly turns his attention back towards the harpies again with a look of disdain.]

Nevertheless, I deduce that these chatty pigeons don't possess the lantern.

[POOR AUGUSTINE. The man is valid, but D, for all this worldly ten thousand years of wisdom, is as straight-forward and somewhat wily as ever. He's really dressed for stealth, but prefers to face things head-on.

His feet lead him after Augustine in the same slow, careful way, but when Augustine moves over to take cautious cover... D continues walking. Without any hesitation, he steps right by Augustine and into the clearing. Look, he's dead. What's this punk going to do, kill him again?

But the Puck seems more amused than anything else. D has at least stopped several yards away, closer to Augustine than the young man.]

Return the lantern.

[Stealth always was his bread and butter, especially against more powerful foes. While he's unaware whether or not their quarry is a threat by any means, he's not going to leave that to chance. Just when D comes near, he whispers the following.]

It's best that we observe him. [He mentions, not at all noticing that his companion has other plans in mind.] Observe and then strike when the moment allows it.

I know better than to believe what my eyes see---?Wait!

[Augustine frantically tries to reach for D's cape in hopes of yanking him back behind the foliage but he's a second too late. A frustrated hiss escapes him as he glares daggers at the bolder dhampir from the shadows. How is it that he's the one advocating for stealth and not D? Augustine nearly lets out a swear once the youth turns to greet them with open arms. However, it doesn't seem like the boy plans on relinquishing the lantern any time soon. Not at all judging from the impish gleam within his soulless gray eyes.]

[ Her smile grows, wider for the little dimple that pulls in the corner. ]

Well, you shall need to suffice yourself with something less lovely, then, but a dancer nonetheless.

[ Palm open, she lifts her hand in invitation. No, he shall not find an easy means to escape, not this time anyway. ]

[Left Hand would like to tell Augustine this is exactly the bullshit he puts up with if he could.

It’s no surprise to D that the Puck doesn’t seem eager to give up the lantern. But he did come out and ask, for what it’s worth. D is asking nicely……… For now.

But the trickster laughs and inquires if they will indulge him. D can feel the hum of energy here, the hum around Puck. It’s manipulative. He may be straightforward, but he isn’t stupid. It’s going to be a game, he can already tell.

D turns his head slightly to glance over his collar at Augustine.]

We can try to take it.

[Unless Augustine would like to regale the Puck with their company.]

[Still mentally reeling from how quickly the hunter managed to blow their cover, he nearly misses when D calls back towards him. He lets out a tense sigh as he strolls out from the darkness, the entire time glaring daggers at D. While he doesn't doubt either of them could simply take the lantern, something tells him there's more to this energetic youth than what meets the eyes. He knows a thing or two about the Fae folk from his realm but he knows nothing about the faeries who linger here in Stygia.]

Must you be so boorish? [He questions before glancing at the child in question.] Only a ruffian would do such a thing and not expect some sort of reprisal.

[The comment certainly wins the trickster's intrigue. Puck seems overjoyed at the thought of having guests to entertain, so much that the youth encourages them to join him by the makeshift campfire nearby. The whole interaction seems innocent enough, that is until they stumble across a small camp. If the moth-eaten tents weren't warning enough of something more sinister at play here, then maybe the telltale scent of decay does. It's enough to nearly make Augustine gag.]

Goodness, what transpired here?

[He muttered as he brings a white handkerchief to his nose. What? Every proper gentleman in Voltaria has one. Stop judging.]

[Even though he knew this was coming, Augustine cannot help but look surprised nonetheless. While he's not against watching other enjoy themselves, he never was one for dancing--at least not in public. He gives Gilia awkward smile as he mentally resigns to his fate. While he could easily decline, Augustine doesn't want the happiness within the woman's eyes to fade. Gilia looks at peace here, a far cry of how they met. It does him some good to see her jovial, hence his reason for going through with this farce.]

You do yourself a great disservice by dancing with someone as ghoulish as I.

[He jokes before reaching to take her hand. Augustine can stomach a dance or two, right? Right. He's an aristocrat who grew up within the royal courts. Of course, he can dance but whether or not he can keep up with a tipsy water nymph has yet to be determined.]

Let us catch the beat under our feet before others try to out dance us.

[Augustine gets a silent, but flat sort of glare for the accusation. His lips thin, but he doesn't argue.

The whole state of the camp is exactly why he knew he should have just made an attempt to get the lantern back initially. The furrowing of his brows makes his nose wrinkle slightly; he doesn't cover his face even though the scent is atrociously heightened. He carries no hanky for times like these...]

The forest didn't let them leave.

[Not literally maybe, but this is where they did not escape. He stands by the camp, refusing to sit, probably to keep the notion between him (and them) and the Puck as distant and unbalanced at possible. When the wind picks up, his body is mostly too covered, but his face isn't. The leaves nick him on the cheeks, drawing blood. And then, slowly, they begin to knit over, healing.

Puck decides to regale them with some fabulous tales and song. D glances at Augustine. As if he's... still... offering just wringing Puck's neck to get it over with.]

[Bloody hells, is it too late for them to try and steal the lantern back? The thought certainly crosses Augustine's mind as he regards Puck. The boy seems all too eager to regale them with his fantastical tales of adventure and love lost. It's just a shame that all of this is nothing more than a mere farce.

While Augustine dared to humor the youth by taking a seat by this makeshift fire, his companion doesn't. This is actually a blessing in disguise since the youth is distracted. It's very easy to ignore D's presence when the hunter doesn't want to be bothered. He shoots D a glance once one of those razor sharp leaves strike him. A thin little cut forms upon the top of his hand. Instead of the wound instantly closing as it should, he allows his blood to flow for the time being. It goes without saying that some sort of dark afoot here and it's not just Puck's doing.

A sigh of frustrated escapes him once the boy suddenly mentions a riddle.

"I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?"

Why is it every time to the Fae comes out to play, there's always some asinine riddle involved? Augustine can't help but scoff. Much like D here, his patience is running thin.]

Hardly there? [He mumbles while contemplating the answer.] Hmm, I've never been good a riddles, sadly.

[He shoots D again glance, this time with a fanged smirk. It's time.]

[Hmm. The stories don't sound inspiring exactly. Eerie. Like something else may be at play. A change in the wind, the forest. Movement.

The eyes looking at Augustine narrow slightly before shifting to Puck again. The riddle takes him a moment to mull over. He wonders how quickly he could twist the Puck's neck, if he could, and get the lantern. The odds are a bit better with Augustine.

Honestly, he's more worried the Puck will do something with it if he tried. Guess that means he has to go for the lantern.

Without warning, he moves with incredible speed, hoping Augustine will understand. He goes for the lantern so long as Augustine doesn't mind dealing with Puck.]

[The second D springs for the lantern, Augustine finally makes his move.

With just a snap of his fingers a flurry of bright red chains suddenly unfurls from his hand. They slither across the dead grass like serpents before suddenly ensnaring Puck within their iron-like tendrils. The chains tighten and tighten as Puck struggles, determined to keep this mischievous youth trapped. While some people might revile such underhanded tactics, Augustine was left with little choice. Stygia’s future is in jeopardy right now and with so little fertile land left within this bleak city, it would be a shame if the Oakwoods fall.

He tightens the chains around Puck’s neck as he rises from the log, keeping the Fae from talking. The last thing they need is for this pest to mutter a spell or two. If the hunter manages to grab the lantern in time, then they’re home free.

If not, well…they’ll cross that bridge when necessary.]

[While Augustine deals with Puck, D snatches the lantern.

The woods are still alive and unwell. The woods are probably going to eat them. Something is rumbling in the depth of them, hurrying their way. He turns to face Augustine and the Puck, holding the lantern in his long fingers by his side. Quietly, he says:]

...Sparsely.

[...]

The answer to the riddle.

[Maybe answering would have merited them the lantern, but maybe not. It would have been a waste of time to take chances. The Puck distorts in Augustine's chains, then spreads away into the wind, disappearing under the chime of a laugh. D looks to Augustine.]

We need to leave.

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Page 1 of 4

♰ Before the Next Sacrifice

♰ A CHAOTIC RESPITE

♰ WILDCARD

Knock On Wood

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Knock Knock Also, but On Different Wood

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sinner's festival

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