ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadrielmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2016-08-13 09:45 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-08-13 09:45 am
Event Log: Beetlejuice
Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Beetlejuice event!
Where: All around the city
When: August 13th-August 18th
Warnings: Scary stories to tell in the dark! Maybe a few goosebumps? Taking a walk or two down Fear Street.
What: The event log for the Beetlejuice event!
Where: All around the city
When: August 13th-August 18th
Warnings: Scary stories to tell in the dark! Maybe a few goosebumps? Taking a walk or two down Fear Street.
When you wake up on the morning of August 13th - well, you'll notice that morning just doesn't really happen. The light that usually illuminates the cave doesn't start coming on, leaving things as dark as night. As if that's not enough, the light switches don't seem to work either. No matter how many times you flip them, the lights won't come on, although mysteriously the other appliances work as normal.
Afraid of the dark? Don't worry! You have oh-so-kindly been provided with lanterns, candles, and flashlights that sure do love to flicker just when you least want to be terrified. Hey, it's something, right?
Just as you begin to realize the artificial 'sun' isn't coming up, Fear appears to make an announcement to the network. What's not fun about scary stories when you're stuck in a dark cave surrounded by monsters? Nothing, that's what! So have fun, everyone - terrify your friends with that story about a cactus filled with spiders, try that classic scarecrow-falling-from-the-ceiling prank. It'll be a good time for everyone, especially Fear! We're sure no one will hold anything against you. On the morning of August 18th, the lights will finally come on as usual. Let's hope you don't have any nightmares!► This log covers August 13th-August 18th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you scare yourself to death, please let us know here!
sans | delight's bar | ota, will match format
And in center stage - metaphorically speaking, anyway - out steps a skeleton. He's got a microphone on a stand, and he taps it a few times with the tip of his phalanx. Then, on closer examination, you might realize, hang on, that's no microphone. And it's not! He's shoved a hotdog there instead in lieu of an actual microphone. But there's something about it that just completes the whole picture, y'know?
He clears his nonexistent throat, peers out into the crowd in a motion that's mostly for show, and begins.]
So, it's become pretty fear to me that someone - now, I'm not namin' any names - seems real interested in watchin' us spooky story each other 'till the cows come home. Now, anyone can probably tell ya that this ain't really my area. Pranks? Yeah. Scary ghost stories?
[He makes a noncommittal, wiggly hand gesture.]
Eh. But anyway, I'm gettin' off-topic. I've heard that some people here have got a soft spot for some quality jokes. And when's a better time for that than now? No time like the present, right?
[That's right, folks. Sans is going to do stand-up.
Watch his performance, enjoy the jokes, heckle the bejeezus out of him, or just mingle about while he does his best to manufacture a relatively low-key, relaxed atmosphere where none has any business existing. He's going to be calling for audience participation for sure, and he'll be here all week!]
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But a bar calls for entertainment, entertainment can call for bad jokes and bad jokes always called for Sans in some way, shape or form. Chara is comfortably seated - after checking the seat this time because they know him - and just smiling and enjoying their drink. And not breaking eye contact with the skeleton if they can help it.
Them being there is probably not enough to throw Sans off whatever planned routine he has. But that wasn't the point to begin with. They were bored. Sans suggested they tried things. So here they are.
And are about to heckle the hell out of him. So let's hear some laughs, Mr Funny Bones =)]
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At some point, Sans will be making his routine while Rey happens to be present, attempting to enjoy a drink on the rocks next to a candlelight and relative peace. Her only saving grace is that she is on the far end of the room, in a quiet little corner, where she seems herself too far to notice.
It's an annoyance at first. But then--
Is that... a hotdog?
She squints to make sure, and confirms her suspicion: This skeleton man is fucking insane.
What does that say about her, however, that she happens to be listening to a crazy skeleton doing standup in a dark bar on a shady week? Or that the insanity of the whole situation is just so absurd that it elicits a tiny smile on her otherwise straight-faced visage? Is this real life?
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Re: sans | delight's bar | ota, will match format
The candles give a nice glow and seem fairly calming, if anything. Rin's not easily afraid of the dark, after all. Interestingly, he sees what looks like a skeleton tapping a hotdog on a microphone stand. As he listens to the skeleton talk, he's kind of curious to see where this will go. If he's speaking into a hotdog, he's got to be funny, right?
Curiously, he takes a seat to watch. Jokes over scary stories? Yes, please!
"Yea, alright!" Rin cheers, awaiting the performance, not really caring how loud he is or if he might be the only one cheering.
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That's easily-amused Crow. ]
Fear to me! Haa! Ohhh, that's good!
[ It only took one pun to get him to this point, Sans. Please don't kill him with laughter tonight. ]
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[Says Bruce, later, in the bar, over a soda water, because he can get in the spirit of the thing,] but I have had an experience that made me understand why people do believe in them. I've got to admit, before it happened I was a pretty skeptical woman, and I had a pretty healthy dose of that nasty smugness that many people fall prey to when they see others as superstitious or silly. My partner at the time firmly believed her childhood home had been haunted, and I would always roll my eyes internally, and say something meaningless and polite before changing the subject.
It was the same girlfriend, I was staying over at her place that night, and we'd had a huge argument. We'd gone to bed together, but I was still seething and was having trouble falling asleep, so around one in the morning I got up to go to the living room to try to calm down.
I was sitting on the edge of her coffee table, and on the wall behind me was a huge old antique mirror. I sat there sobbing with a box of tissues, trying hard not to wake her, for I don't know how long. It was a really low point in a fairly tempestuous relationship, and I was angry, upset and exhausted, which is how I explain to myself what happened next.
I suddenly became completely convinced that someone was right behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder, and saw something in the glass of the mirror. The normally clear reflective surface was fogged- like a car window, or the inside of a shower stall, and visible as though backlit through the mist was a face and two hands. The hands were pressed up against the glass, like someone was leaning into it, and the face was pushed up close, exactly the way you might hold yourself if you were trying to peer through translucent material.
There was no possible mistaking it; every light in the room with me was one, it wasn't out of the corner of my eye, I looked dead on at the thing for a slow count of at least ten seconds. Then, I just got carefully to my feet, walked back into the bedroom (leaving the light on behind me, and the bedroom door open so that the hall light spilled into the room and made it less black) and climbed back into bed. I don't remember how long I lay there. I don't remember feeling afraid, either, so much as incredibly overwrought and numb.
I still don't really believe in ghosts. I believe I was tired, upset, and up a two in the morning after a miserable day at the end of a long week at the end of a bad month. I believe two wires crossed in my brain and something sparked. That said, that belief is kind of a position of faith in and of itself. I have enough trust in the doctrine of science to dismiss something I saw with my own eyes. It didn't feel like dreaming, at all unreal or supernatural, it felt just as real as bumping into a repairman in the apartment hallway. If I had been born a little earlier in history, or maybe been raised in a different way, I would have flat out known this was incontrovertible proof that ghosts were real.
It knocked pretty much all of my condescension out of me, let me tell you that. I understand completely how some people do believe.
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You are not very good at ghost stories.
[ Or it is very hard to terrify her. ]
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Did you think it could hurt you?
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Rey | OTA
Darkness has never troubled nor scared Rey. In fact, she could always see pretty well once her eyes adjusted to it, and they have long since gotten used to the dim shapes outlining the paths and surrounding buildings.
It also helps that she can easily make her own light. Lanterns, candles, and flickering flashlights be damned.
Of course, to anyone walking the streets, that may be a different story for them.
If only because she is heading towards her destination with her hands extended and on fire. Rather than consuming her flesh while she screams in agony, the flames remain controlled, lingering no farther than her forearm. It's just enough to light her up like a roman candle within the dark city and it's no big thing.
II. Delight's Bar
It should come as no surprise that the bar has become a common place of congregation for many in Hadriel. And when people need someplace to meet up at, swap stories, and attempt to terrify each other, then why not get hammered while doing it?
Rey is far from drunk, though not entirely sober by the time company arrives. She is seated in the corner of the room, a table lit only by a candle that flicks and spits and shines her scarred face almost ominously in the dark room. Even though she has gone through half a bottle with collection of shotglasses on the tabletop, the bourbon has yet to kick in.
People want scary stories? Sure, Rey has an abundance of them. But still--
"Am too sober for this shit."
1.
There's certainly no mistaking the woman in front of her, though. She may only have spoken to her once, but that was certainly someone difficult to forget, what with her hands on for and all. More information, maybe? She could hardly believe the announcement carried all of it.
"Greetings. Would you perhaps be amenable to answering some additional inquires I have concerning the current state of affairs?"
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two; Crow attempts to amuse Rey, a true horror story.
Sputters Crow as he comes to land on the table, the wind of his descent nearly extinguishes the flame of the lonely little light. He leans to give a soft breeze of air to fire it back up, then pretends it didn't happen at all. Smooth criminal.
"Hey again, lady! Nice dark and gloomy funk you got going on back here. Need a Crow to add to your villainous vibe?"
Crow may or may not be a little tipsy himself.
/cardiac arrest
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City
As he draws closer, he’s surprised to see that it’s Rey. Rey’s hand. Rey’s flaming hand.
He sucks in a breath and is about to look around for some water before it occurs to him that he’s seen something kind of like that before. It must be a trick, right? She doesn’t even look concerned.
He trots over, “What the hell’re you doin’?”
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Miriam Day - ota
I'm gonna tell you about scapegoats. Used to be, folks thought they could get rid of all their bad shit - all the nasty stuff that goes through their heads that they really don't wanna do - if they took it out, you know, symbolically. So they'd go out away from the village, out into...whatever was out there. Let's say a desert. So they'd go into the desert with a big hammer and a bunch of nails, until they were really alone and maybe they were cold, but either way they were gone from the world. But they wouldn't be alone, exactly.
[Miriam bangs the stick against the temple steps.]
Nah, they'd bring a goat with 'em. And once they were all good and gone, they'd let all their bad thoughts out and let 'em rip. Get them out in the air. But it was okay, 'cause it wasn't in the village, and nothing that happens in the desert - or the forest or the mountains or whatever the fuck they had back then - none of that stuff really counts, so long as it's out. So they'd take the hammer and the nails and they'd use all their darkness up on that goat and when they were done, they'd nail it to a rock and that was that. And it was good, 'cause then all their badness was stuck out there with the goat and not inside.
Sucks to be the goat, though. Bet you're glad you're not a goat.
Anyway, one time, this farmer had a son, and the son had some nastiness boiling up inside him. So the farmer says, "Son, you ought to get out your hammer and your nails. I'll love you better when you're done."
And if it'd been good times, the son would've done just that and everything would've been fine. But see, the farm had been going through some tough times, a famine of epic proportions, and all their goats were dead. So the son thought real hard about what he ought to do, because he couldn't just let that badness sit in his bones, oh no, it would get sour and eventually it would spill out and get its nastiness on everything. And - this part is important - the farmer said to his son, "Everyone will love you better when you are undone, and your evil is nailed to goat bones out in the desert and not creeping through our halls. They cannot love you now. I cannot love you any longer while you are like this."
And you know how people are, don't you? Even if you can't love anything, you want them to love you. So the son got to thinking. What would stand for a goat when all the goats were dead? So he went to the barn, but all their pigs had starved. So went to the fields but all their horses were gone. He even went to town looking for a bird, but they were all too fast and mean for him to catch. It was very late by the time the son came back to the farm, with his hammer and his nails and his hands still unbloodied, and no goat to show for it. His father was already asleep but the sister was there waiting for him at the gate. She said, "Brother, why do you look so sad?"
And he said to her, "All the goats are dead."
"Well," said the sister, "you'll have to be clever then, won't you?"
The son looked at her, and smiled then. (It's usually said that he was handsome). "Yes, sister, I must be clever, mustn't I?"
Well, morning came, and the farmer woke up to find his son gone. The farmer was pleased, thinking his son had gone out to purge his evil, and would surely be back soon and all would be well. So the farmer went about his business and in time the son came back to the gates carrying a hammer but no nails.
He smiled, with a bloody face, and said, "Father, I am absolved. My evil is gone and you will love me all the more for it."
Indeed the farmer was very happy. "Come, my dear child, come inside and your sister will fix us a meal in celebration. We have little but we have enough."
The son shook his head. "Oh, father, my sister will not be coming."
"Why not, my son?"
"Father, my father, I needed her bones. My darkness needed out and we had no goats to give. She said I should be clever, father dear, and now I am returned. Are you not pleased?"
[Miriam snaps the stick in half dramatically.]
Be happy you're not a goat.
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What an interesting tale.
He chuckles darkly at its conclusion.]
Hey now. Some of my best friends are goats.
[He passes a bony hand over the crown of his skull, scratching at the base of his cervical vertebrae.]
Guess she shouldn't have had such a bleating heart, huh?
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Maketh Tua - ota
[Have a seat. She's got a few to tell.]
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He lands very carefully on seat of the stool beside Maketh. Very plush. He wiggles to seat himself slowly. He feels warm. Calm. Ready for a good
spookystory. ]Ahhh... This is nice. Isn't this nice?
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frisk - ota
It's a chill down your spine as you're walking, a lightly frosted breath into the somewhat murky air of a darkened city as you go about your daily business; the only difference being the poorly provided lighting that swings or flickers from your clenched fingers. It's just nerves, probably.
Right?
Or maybe not. There's rustling from the darkness, a shuffle of footsteps that don't belong to you. Light and careful, stopping whenever you stop. Ha... sure, okay. So Fear said that bodily harm counted. So there's monsters of all kinds about. Surely no one would really sink that low...
Ha. Ha.]
Boo. [A tiny voice whispers. In the circumstance where one doesn't shoot first and ask questions later, the sound of shuffling feet is finally answered- in the form of a very small person, covered in a bedsheet.
Er, a ghost. A ghost, not at all covered in a bedsheet.
Said ghost wiggles it's limbs at you.
Spoopy.]
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she is prepared to punch anyone who gets too close in the nose, but what she's not expecting is a tiny boo, and that makes her drop her defenses immediately. because, really?
when the very spooky very serious (absolutely not a sheet) ghost finally appears, she bites back a laugh. or tries to, anyway. ]
Shit, I've never been haunted before. Are you going to follow me around the rest of my life? Is that how this works?
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Re: frisk - ota
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Sato | City Streets | OTA | Warning: gore
A good lead-in is important for any tale of horror, so the trail starts with a splash of blood across the road that implies a sudden attack, thick droplets leading from there around several corners... to a messily severed left arm. Naturally, the trail gets easier to follow from there, zig-zagging down ruined streets until the point where something small and covered in blood can be seen poking out around the corner.
It isn't until anyone gets there and turns the corner that it's properly visible: a pile of wet, glistening organs, with long trails of blood spraying out from the pile. Several meters away, Sato lies face-down, in a huge pool of his own blood.
In reality, the blood spray goes into the pile, since it took a little speedy coordination to throw the bits far enough away before he died -- otherwise they'd just return to his body. Sato actually hopes it doesn't take too long for someone to come along. He'd have to question if it was worth it at all if he had to lay here in a pool of blood (with his left arm tucked underneath him to help complete the effect) all night.
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Rashid's never been one to fear the dark, but waking up to darkness is a new one on him. He's navigating the city with that tiny lantern, trying so hard not to be creeped out by the lack of surroundings.
And that's when he comes across what appears to be entrails leading to a dead body- WHAT THE HELL, CITY. Rashid almost drops his lantern when he sees the blood, and he immediately goes for his phone. "Come on, please tell me you have an emergency connection or something. If you're alive, I'm gonna get you an ambulance or something, okay? Though judging by that trail..." Ewwww.
No one's responding and Rashid's getting anxious. "Whoever did this might be nearby. I'll have to stay on guard in case they try something else."
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oh hello again. (B (also wow sorry this got long)
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now with 30% less reading failure
I think we've all had those days loooool
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Elmer C. Albatross | open!
Instead of telling scary stories, Elmer is out stalking people as quietly as can be, taking advantage of the darkness.
Just when you least suspect it, someone jumps out in front of them! Someone dressed like Jason Voorhees: wearing a hockey mask, wielding a machete, splashed with blood, and roaring menacingly. Or it would be menacing, except the costumed maniac is almost a foot too short, and who's mask and weapon seem to be made out of recycled paper plates. That blood? Just some leftover red paint smeared on him.
Not very scary at all, really. Elmer takes off the mask to get a better look at his target and their reaction. Hopefully you're not too startled and attack immediately. It's fine - Elmer's immortal and can take the hit - but you might not know that.]
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So, when someone jumps out in front of her, she jumps back a bit and starts to reach for the knife on her person, but stops once the person takes the mask off. Then she's shaking her head with a slight laugh.]
Trying to get yourself killed?
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Natasha Romanoff | open ; will match format
She can be found out in the city (she has one of those flickering flashlights with her, but she doesn't have it on all the time). She's still getting used to this place, which puts her both more on edge than usual and more alert than usual. This also means she may be more easy to startle - because even though she's more alert, there is the fact that she still doesn't have much to go on in terms of this place and predicting things in it.
Like many others, she'll go to the bar for a bit. She's sitting and drinking the strongest stuff she can get her hands on here, and is excellent at holding her drink. If anyone happens to sit by her and doesn't say something to her first, she'll start with: "Do you have any good scary stories?"
bar!
But a lot of people have gathered here, and with the city so dark, Steve thinks that might not be such a bad idea - safety in numbers, right? He sits down next to her, the "before" version of a man she knows. Steve looks up at her with those same steady eyes, considering her request for a second.
"Ever hear of the Great Depression?"
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bar
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jack benjamin | ota
We live in a cave filled with monsters, and ghost stories are supposed to scare us. [He clicks his tongue, turning the glass upside down on the counter.] You don't have to be afraid of ghosts anyway. If you don't believe me, try looking for one. Behind your doors, under your bed, in your closet. All the usual places that ghosts and monsters are supposed to hide. Look everywhere, you won't find a single pale girl with twitching movements and long dark hair.
[Jack hesitates as if he just thought of something, and a smile creeps across his lips.]
Just don't look up at your ceiling. She doesn't mind if you look for her, as long as you don't actually find her.
Re: jack benjamin | ota
"Really? What happens if you do find her?" He leans in closer, hanging on the man's every word.
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Nick Valentine
While the unrelenting darkness is an annoyance, the fact is that it gives Nick an excuse to get out of the house. After all, if he can't see the paperwork, he can't file it. With his bum leg, he only manages to make patrols around the housing districts these days, much to his chagrin. Ever the workaholic, he always feels like he could -- should -- be doing more. He has to remind himself from time to time that the business end of the Guard is important to maintain, more so than one might think. He'd have gotten lost in his own back in Diamond City if Ellie didn't take care of it.
So off to the stores he goes, looking for flashlights, candles, anything he can carry easily enough. The flashlights he finds seem unreliable, at best: he turns the first one on, only to have it flicker in his hand, and the second one doesn't even light at all. The lanterns seem like his best bet if he's set on getting any work done. He's just hoping to keep a low profile while there. He's well aware that a pair of glowing, yellow eyes in the darkness are likely to unsettle most people, and he doesn't want to win Fear's little 'contest' by accident, nor does he want to be mistaken for a monster. There are plenty of real ones out there as it is.
[closed to Rey]
With his pockets lined with candles and matches, Nick heads home, his lantern in hand to give him some light for the trip. He may have paperwork to do, but his mind is elsewhere, namely on the Guard. Fear had offered prizes for those who could cause the most fright, and encouraged people to use bodily harm as a means, if they so desired. As optimistic as Nick would like to be regarding his fellow captives of Hadriel, he's not blind to the fact that some would absolutely do just that, go to any lengths to earn the favor of any one of those so-called 'gods.'
He sighs. They should be fighting the gods, not each other, but time and time again, humanity proves that they'd rather resort to violence than good, common sense. It destroyed the world he comes from; if they're not careful, it'll destroy this one, too. The signs of the last time a war happened are still all around them, burnt into the trees in the park, etched into the ruins of the city untouched by their hosts' influence. There's no telling what the gods will do once they're all revived, but if they don't make good on their word to try to send their prisoners home, well... they'd better be prepared to work together. This place could be home, but only if they work for it.
And Nick will absolutely work for it. He turns down the road that leads to the house he shares with Rey, his steps uneven, but determined. Even if it wasn't ingrained in his very nature, one copied from the original Nick Valentine, he has his reasons to work for the good of the city; he has people he wants to protect, people who can't go back to where they came from. This place has to be better for them, Rey included.
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While Rey doesn't have the same concerns now that she did in that prison, she still has a similar problem. Her survival instincts aren't something that one can just turn off, leaving potential tricksters to pop out in attempts to startle in jeopardy rather than herself.
Rey will not spook that easily, this much she has told herself. So when she is out scouring the streets, she is on her guard, but not too guarded-- if such a thing is possible.
Somewhere along the trek back home, the paths intersect, leading both Rey and Nick at a crossroad. As if the lantern didn't give his position away enough, his glowing eyes all but immediately confirms his identity for her, and she relaxes.
Without realizing it, Rey has her own light right now: The tips of her fingers on her extended hand casually burn just enough to provide illumination to show the way towards her roommate and friend.
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost mistake you for being a couple of fireflies from a distance."
Don't mind her or the fire that doesn't seem to be going anywhere beyond her hand, or melting her flesh.
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stores.
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shops GIVE ME YOUR DADBOT
\o/
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Stores
AW YISS
:D
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stores;
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josh washington | open
[Are you out looking for supplies? Well, push open the door to one particular shop and you'll see a horrifying scene. A body, laid out on the floor, surrounded by crushed cereal boxes and tin cans, covered in blood. There's smeared blood and what are probably guts obscuring the face of the body, making it unclear at first glance who it might be, but it's as still as death.
Take a step closer, though, and in an instant this corpse will move, leaping up to lunge at whoever's gotten too close. Josh's phone is propped on a nearby shelf, recording his incredibly stupid prank in hopes of getting some great reactions. Come on, don't let him down!
He's fully aware he's probably going to get his ass kicked, but he's not entirely stupid, and unlike some he's not immortal. Anyone who approaches who either has a weapon, looks able to kill him, or who he knows can kill him won't get jumped at. They'll just get a possibly too chill 'oh hey bro' greeting from the body on the floor.
Anyone who doesn't, though? Sorry. So, so sorry. Also, he smells like tomato sauce.]
b: the bar
[Josh has a drink in front of him, a few bruises, and a grin on his face. He's ready, and he turns to whoever's nearest, raising his glass.]
All right, let's do this. Tell me what scares you and I'll tell you a story about it.
[Some of these stories might actually be plots to horror movies, but hey, who's keeping score?]
city
which is how she comes across the nightmare situation in the shop. the gore is enough to make her stomach turn but she goes closer to investigate anyway. if someone's dead, everyone else will want to know who it was. and what kind of idiot gets killed by cereal boxes? before she can come up with a list of most likely suspects, Josh jumps up, effectively startling the hell out of her.
Cashmere screams and it's not quite banshee-like but it is loud and probably surprisingly shrill. her first move is to take a big step back away from the not-dead corpse but as soon as she realized she's been pranked, she closes the distance between them. ]
What is wrong with you?? [ she looks like she's going to smack him. which is, in fact, what she is going to do if she can get close enough. ]
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bar
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city, 17thish
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b;
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b
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Carlisle Longinmouth | around town
Having missed Fear's announcement when he'd made it, Carlisle had been surprised when he'd woken up to find it was still dark -- dark in his apartment, dark outside, dark everywhere. For a second, just before waking, he'd mistaken where he was for somewhere else: somewhere worse, somewhere that always lingered at the back of his mind, threatening to become real at any moment. Though it turned out his immediate panic had been over nothing -- some mischief of the false gods, as usual -- his nerves remain frazzled as he walks the streets, making his way toward the stores. He needs candles, lanterns, anything to combat the darkness. He likes being able to see everything around him; he likes knowing just what it is that lurks in the shadows, what could possibly be hiding there at any given moment.
As he is with many things, he's afraid of this unending night. He handles the dark well enough most days, but given that it's everywhere, with no light in sight, no coming dawn to send it away, he can't help but feel as though he's suffocating in it.
A tangible ball of conjured light helps guide Carlisle down the streets, held in both hands as though it were a precious commodity rather than something he could easily resummon, should he drop it. His body language says a lot about how he's taking the gods' latest shenanigans: his shoulders are stiff, eyes wide, hands jittering against the orb as he looks over his shoulder every few steps, so sure he hears something.
And perhaps he does. After all, he's not the only one in the city.]
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[ There's a voice that sounds like it may be some distance behind Carlisle. There isn't the stepping of feet, but a flapping sort of noise coming in quickly toward him followed by silence. Then filled again with the voice, now panting to catch his breath. ]
It's really dark out here, huh? I've been all over this place and can't tell where I am. I can't usually see anything at night, so that might have something to do with it, but this place is just totally different without any of the lights on, am I right? I can't see where anything is!
[ With further deduction, the voice is coming from the ground. From this bird. ]
Mind if I hang out with you?
Welp, I'm sorry.
i've been waiting for this moment all my life
Yessss gooood OvO
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Noah Czerny | City/Shops
It's so dark and creepy in the cave without the artificial light they had come to rely on.
Hearing a sound of course makes Noah jump and take up a flashlight - which sputters and gutters at that exact moment as Noah frantically pats at the back of it to keep it working.]
Hello? Oh, hell - please don't be a monster or someone pulling a scary prank, I scare too easily I won't be worth any points at all and I might cry, it'll be embarrassing and disappointing for us both.
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[As is very well evidenced by the sudden pitiful rambling in front of him. He sighs quietly, mutters a single word under his breath and the flashlight in his own hand lights up . . . possibly more than it should, but that's neither here nor there, isn't it?] So you chose for it to be embarrassing for yourself alone. That's very noble.
[His voice is youthful, quiet, and monotonous. The bottom half of his face is covered by the collar of a clearly oversized coat, but what's visible is extremely pale skin, disheveled white hair, and dark, glassy, unblinking eyes. He more resembles a life-sized doll than anything else.]
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Tyki Mikk | open
[His hand was out with purpose to tease anyone wandering close. His Power to Choose was always active and in the dark where it was a little discerning to be naturally not touching anything but what he wanted he made a point to stay on the ground even when he passed through buildings and other people. The odd feeling of something passing through one's body would come first and occasionally he would choose to touch a heart, a lung, a bone or an organ. Nothing dangerous this time but a subtle drag of a finger only. He could so easily yank it right out of their body but he wouldn't or at least not this time even if the sudden feel of something so vulnerable in his hand was very tempting.]
B - Delight's Bar
[He was bored at the easy scares and the confrontations and it wasn't hard to find him at Delight's bar since that is where most of the city's residents seemed to linger this week. He fancied wine but anything a little more refine would suit him best considering as his White Side he didn't actually mind something a little harder. His eyes would wander through the darkness with a lantern nearby as he took in the crowd and he stuck out like a sore thumb with his Victorian noble's coat. Even an enemy right now wouldn't necessarily be attacked from the way the dim lighting, the hearty atmosphere and the gentle sounds of people voice seemed to sink him into a very easy going mood.
With drink in hand and one of his Tease, his carnivorous purple blackish butterflies, sitting on the edge of his knuckles he was open to stories and conversations.]
C - S'mores
[At some point he had gotten turned around and when time passed enough he had built a fire from nearby wood, his matches and a little patience. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see Tyki nestled around one either off the streets or by the river. In any case he was leaning against something solid and letting the stick hanging with one of the marshmallows he had been 'rewarded' by Hope toast over it to a near flaming brown. With the fire illuminating the area around him one would also notice a couple bars of chocolate with graham crackers as well.]
a
So when something feels rather off as he's walking, he's stopping and looking around him despite how futile it was in the dark.
Still, he didn't like the feeling, nor how Mugen was itching to be drawn. Wonderful. ]
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Firo Prochainezo | ota
After more than a little stumbling around in the dark, Firo's set up shop in the bar. He's commandeered one of the tables in the back and sits facing the door. There's a drink and a flashlight by one elbow and a pack of cards by the other. Whenever someone enters, he raises one of the decks and calls out to them.
"Up for a game? Loser has to take a turn at this ghost story crap."
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When the bird flaps down onto the table, he does a small hop to lean and look at the pack of cards.
"I'm not much of a gambling bird. But I think I've seen enough card games in my life to know a few!"
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