TDM #13 - Blood and Snow

[pumpkinhollow]

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette: Winter Issue 2025-2026

We ask that all toplevels include the age of the character (or at least a rough estimate) for TDM posts, to ensure that players both old and new can quickly make informed decisions about how to interact with a given character. We also ask that if someone lists a prompt as having an age preference, that it be respected. This is specifically for TDMs unless otherwise stated. Thank you!

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette

12/9/25 - 2/28/26 | TDM #13 - Blood and Snow
Winter Pokémon Types - Ice, Steel, Rock, Psychic

WELCOME TO PUMPKIN HOLLOW

By Yorick Aberdeen

The crop for which the town is named.

It’s winter in Pumpkin Hollow, which means it’s time for brisk and clear weather, beautiful snowy vistas, beloved holiday traditions, and ice skating on the lake that is normally trying to kill you. Of course, these next few months will undoubtedly find a way to be as challenging as any others, if not moreso, but Pumpkin Hollow is a town of hardy people! We can’t be slowed down by a few sharp winds, sub-freezing temperatures, or whispering trees that beckon to us, hypnotizing us to wander the woods until we collapse into the snow and allow the bone deep chill to consume us! It’ll take more than that to keep this town down.

In any case, if you’re just arriving on the islands for the very first time, you’re in luck! Despite the challenges and the cold, winter is a beautiful time on the island. Indulge in our delightful winter street market and take part in interdimensional cultural exchange as native Hollowites and off-worlders alike swap traditions and stories from all across the multiverse. And, of course, who knows what the new year will have in store?

We invite any newcomers, as with all those who came before you, to enjoy your stay at the Oak & Iron tavern inn while you settle in. (Or the Autumn Leaves Dormitory House, for the newly arrived youngsters.) Please stop by Town Hall to discuss opportunities for work and more permanent housing! All newcomers get 100 Brass in their pocket upon arrival, so we encourage you to take advantage of this as well. Reach out to your neighbors for help if you need it, and don’t forget to pick up your copy of the Pumpkin Hollow Gazette whenever you need the local news!

WINTER WEATHER REPORT

By Phil Connors

Mind your step on the roads!

Winter comes again, Hollowites, and with it is the wind and snow. Keep your scarves on, your firewood stocked, and drafty windows sealed—though I'm sure you all know what to do after our little cold snap last August. Early in the season we'll only get a few dustings of snow here and there before it comes down in earnest around the turn of the year. Long nights mean dramatic sunsets and starry skies, and if you're lucky, you can catch a bit of the Aurora too! Be sure to get what daylight you can while the sun is up. Do it for me. I commute in before the sun rises and leave when it's dark.

A WINTER ABOUT TOWN IN PUMPKIN HOLLOW

By Timothy Stoker

No matter where you are in the universe, every winter needs a good Winter Market, and Pumpkin Hollow is happy to provide. Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, December through February, vendors will take to the chilly streets with unique goods, artisan crafts, and seasonal foods. With Givingstide near the winter solstice and Merrymeet hot on the heels of the new year, this is a great way to find a thoughtful gift for that someone special.

And of course, there's more to do than just shop. Booths peddling hot fried delicacies, festive baked goods, and seasonal favorites aim to keep you warm and full this season. Horse-drawn sleigh rides are a fun way to take in the sights of the island, or get a moment alone with someone special. Or rent some ice skates and go for a glide on scenic Lake Sal-Co-Penn, which, as Yorick stated, is usually trying to kill you. All that spooky junk is helpfully sealed beneath the ice this time of year. Just don't look down, or if you do, try not to stare.

And when you're ready to warm up after your trip through winter wonderland, stop on by Empty Pockets Music Bar, where a rotating cast of Pumpkin Hollow’s premiere entertainment will be performing throughout each weekend. Local acts like Juniper Sweetwater, Cormac and the Banshees, and the Deadwood Five will perform beloved winter favorites from the Emerald Isles, and a few off-worlders will have acts as well. Enjoy sultry baritone renditions of Christmas classics performed by Mettaton, the smooth blues stylings of Grace Holloway, or a series of holiday specials from Mr. Ant Tenna’s TV Time for Stage.

Winter’s a tough time no matter where you’re from, but there’s no shortage of ways to stay sane this season. So do this reporter a favor and treat yourself to some fun, lest the biting cold and endless grey skies drive us all to madness. Happy holidays!

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE CHILLY

By Phil Connors

Beautiful, mysterious, deadly.

With the turn of the season, the island has gotten a few new spooky visitors as it so often does. This winter, keep an eye out for "kesapasa." These little snowball spirits have taken a shine to many members of our colorful population. It's good luck to attract one, but you might want to keep your schedules fast and loose—once one arrives, a flock tends to follow.

But they've got a fiercer counterpart roaming around: the "yuki-onna," a snowy woman with skin and clothes of white, is looking for love. If she's interested in you, your options are death or dating. Talk about a cougar! As in she could maul me very fast. If you take her out on the town, be prepared for some very unnerving conversation topics, but at least you'll both get a nice dinner out of it.

TERROR AMONG LOCAL HORSES!

By Yorick Aberdeen

Town Hall has requested that all ranchers of Northwest Hollow stay on alert this coming winter. As the days grow shorter, and our nights grow colder, it seems as though someone or something has taken the opportunity to spirit away the beloved steeds of our farmlands. They return the following day, but not without damage; though their bodies are intact when they return, they seem rattled by the ordeal, causing the stress to be shared by other livestock, commutes by horseback to take a fair deal longer, and injuries abound. (During an interview, this intrepid reporter only nearly avoided what certainly would have been a very devastating kick!)

We've had extremely scarce reports on what these thieves look like, but each farmer has reported the same pieces of information, which are listed below.

• Every incident has occurred a mere hour or two after nightfall.
• Other animals are said to be anxious when they're checked last; some screams of animals have been noted.
• Every taken horse has been at pasture, as opposed to in a barn.

Other strange phenomena have been shrieking winds, unusual weather patterns, and bloodied areas in the woodlands, which our constabulary fears may be related to unsavory ritual activity. For now, our best recommendation to all our neighbors with hooved companions would be to lock them up at night for their own safety.

ISLE OF MISFIT TOYS GONE AWRY

By Melanie King

Pretty doll, but there's something about the eyes...

The winter holidays are always a time of gift-giving and receiving, but it seems like this year someone has taken it upon themselves to leave some extra special surprises for people all across town. Mysterious toys are appearing on people's doorsteps, windowsills, bedsides—and, according to some reports, even being handed to people directly. Children seem to be the main target of these special gifts, with parents of children in close second, but unattached adults aren't being left out of the giving spirit entirely.

Those reports we've had from people meeting this generous individual describe him as unnaturally thin and tall, with a long, matted black beard and strange eyes. The toys are, as far as we can tell, perfectly normal toys of bespoke handmade production and range from simple toy soldiers to extravagant doll houses, rocking horses and even items with limited mechanical function. However, according to one of this reporter's colleagues at town hall, they may, and I quote: "do freaky things", so buyer beware. These gifts may not be all that they seem.

PINK SNOW HEATS THINGS UP!

By Mettaton

Let's get cozy!

Love is in the air this Valentines! ... Quite literally in this instance, darling readers! We've received reports of people acting strangely after being out in the snow for some time. Something about pink snowflakes? Who's ever seen a pink snowflake before?— But we digress: By strangely, we mean lovely-dovey. Some sort of magical prank? A new form of Cupid's Arrow? Oh, the possibilities! Just mind yourself during this strange bout of snow or else you might start smooching your neighbor before you can even stop yourself! No one wants the holiday of love filled with harassment charges~

TREE-RELATED DISAPPEARANCES UNDER INVESTIGATION

By Timothy Stoker

Can you see it?

Looking for a bit of intrigue and mystery this winter? Look no further than your own yard, Pumpkin Hollow, and by that I mean you absolutely should not go looking under any circumstances. Reports have been coming in of strange, spindly, grey-brown creatures hiding in leafless trees. And you know what a waifish, spiny, grey-brown creature looks a hell of a lot like? If you guessed a leafless tree, you’d be correct.

It’s hard telling precisely what these camouflaged creeps want from us. More reports from those who come into contact with them will help, of course, but for the moment, paranormal wildlife expert Dr. Elias Coldwood has stated that they appear to be fae folk. “They seem to be tree spirits associated with the Court of Green Willows,” Dr. Coldwood said in an interview with me at his lighthouse abode, when approached for comment on a tip he left with the Board of Safety. “I’m not familiar with this particular species, but given just how many unknowns there are within the Feywilds, this isn’t entirely uncommon even among occult scholars, which isn’t the part that concerns me. The concerning part is just how inconsistent their apparent motives are.”

Coldwood went on to describe the behavior he’d been observing in reports gathered from the victims of these spirits after they returned from their harrowing encounters. According to these statements, victims who made eye contact with one of these silent spirits found themselves wandering disoriented and aimless through a woodland that didn’t seem “right,” like an uncannily stretched version of our own Lockwood Forest. Some of them were gone for hours or even days, losing their sense of time, until suddenly encountering another person at last. Each victim reports being overcome with the impulse to do something to this other person, ranging from things like stealing an object from their person, divulging a personal life detail to them, kissing them, or even physically attacking them with murderous intent. While some were able to overcome this intense urge, others were not so fortunate.

After the interview, the good doctor was kind enough to offer this reporter a cup of coffee and an opportunity to be given a comprehensive toy collection tour by his adorable, spooky, eldritch daughter. He leaves us with all the information he has, as well as one vital safety tip--- do not look into the trees, lest they look back. The Department of Supernatural Affairs will continue to collaborate with Dr. Coldwood on a potential solution, but until then, best keep your eyes to the road.

Thank you for reading!

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Further Details...

Winter Market

The Winter Market taking place throughout Downtown Hollow is a seasonal staple of winter TDMs each year in PH! Givingstide, which takes place on December 21st, and Merrymeet, which is always the second weekend in February, are two important local holidays that take place during this time where gifts are often involved, with Givingstide being a Yule/Christmas analogue and Merrymeet being a romantic flower festival welcoming the impending spring. The selection of goods on offer will gradually shift depending on which month you’re looking in, but wintery decorative items and food will be available for the duration.

As usual, food booth costs are considered applicable to your food voucher/grocery budget for the month, and ice skate and sleigh ride fees are considered negligible expenses that don’t have to be marked on your bank ledger. For gift purchases, please reference the price chart seen below:

Kesapasa & Yuki-Onna

These two snow-spirits share a wintery theme and an origin in Japanese folklore, but little else.

Kesapasa, which are little drifting puffballs who roll through the snow or float through the air, have round black eyes and black stick-legs. They are harmless, and in fact will bless you with good luck if they take a shine to you, granting you small boons such as finding an interesting marble in the snow, showing up to a food booth when a fresh batch of your favorite treat just got stocked, or spotting a stunning herd of deer on your sleigh ride. However, once you have one, others are likely to join it, following you around all day and clinging to your person or invading your home. So, you win some, you lose some. They will usually lose interest within a day or two.

The yuki-onna, however, is another story. A prop NPC that can be played by any player as they like, yuki-onna is a beautiful but malevolent winter yokai known for luring her victims to their death. But this year, she’s looking to change her ways and find her true love--- by whatever means necessary. If you encounter her, she will demand you take her on a date, and the punishment for declining is death. So dress nicely, and treat her with the respect she deserves, because as long as she remains pleased with you, you’ll survive the encounter.

See someone on a date with yuki-onna? There are ways you can help! Wingman from the shadows to help ensure the date goes off without a hitch, try to seduce her yourself to take the heat (or the ice, as it were) off her current victim, or assist the victim in orchestrating an elaborate excuse for needing to cut the outing short. Yuki-onna is also open to double-dates and polyamorous dates, so feel free to get creative!

Unfortunately, you won’t end up being yuki-onna’s true love no matter what you do. At the end of February, she will meet her soulmate in the form of a monster from a previous TDM. The Dirt Man, a sinister shadowy cowboy who makes his lair in the nearby mountain and occasionally demands offerings of loose earth, will whisk her off her feet. They will have a spring wedding and it will be beautiful. (You’re not invited. Awkward.)

Horse Thief [cw: animal harm/temporary death, claustrophobia, being eaten by a monster]

This specific prompt contains spoilers for the 2022 film NOPE by Jordan Peele. It is an excellent film and it’s highly recommended that you check it out before reading this prompt if you haven’t already done so. (Please check the content warnings for the movie and enjoy safely!)

Do you ever pay much attention to the clouds? If not, maybe you should start. It’s harder to catch with how overcast it tends to be during the winter time, but on clear days you can spot the strangest thing if you look. A big, puffy nimbus cloud that never moves, hanging over the farmlands in Northwest Hollow.

Large livestock, particularly horses but also cattle, pigs, and sheep, can be heard shrieking in the distance. When you run to find them, they will already be gone. Or, maybe if you’re unlucky, you will spot them being sucked up into an inexplicable wind vortex and vanishing into the cloud. What resides under the cover of this cloud looks a lot like the classic image of a UFO, but is in fact a living being, known to some as Jean Jacket. And she’s hungry.

Animals revive just like people do after a day, despite their corpses not disappearing in the same way, so farmers and riders will find their animals safely returned to them the following day, but with an inexplicable terror of wide open fields with no cover and a particular wariness about that specific, ever-present cloud. And while Jean Jacket prefers animals with less inorganic matter on them, she’s not against scooping up people as well. And given that she’s the size of a house, she has a big appetite. Crowds are welcome targets, as well as someone riding a horse she’s after, and the process of being eaten and digested is slow, painful, and cramped. Not to mention she’ll spit out anything she can’t eat (mostly metal) along with a shower of blood. And she’s terribly petty, besides.

She’s big, fast, capable of flight, and extremely hostile, but that doesn’t mean she’s undefeatable. Tricking her into eating things that are dangerous for her tends to have the most success, but significantly powerful individuals may be able to deal harm in other ways. If she’s killed, she will take off for a couple of days once she resurrects, but eventually her appetite will drive her back. However, as many other threats do, she will vanish on her own come March.

Heinrich Unheimlich [cw: paranoia, haunted dolls and other toys]

Heinrich Unheimlich, wirst du mit mir spielen?
Heinrich Unheimlich, bist du in den Dielen?
Heinrich Unheimlich, oh, bist du in Sicht?
Heinrich Unheimlich, iss meine Eltern nicht.

Did you ever have a toy you wanted as a child, but never got? Or maybe you have a sentimental one from your childhood that you sometimes miss? Maybe you just like the look of a rustic, vintage, handmade toy. Whatever the case may be, you’ve received a gift. Whether you spotted the uncanny toymaker delivering it or not is up to coincidence, but it’s yours now, and it won’t let you throw it away.

The toy can be anything, regardless of time period of origin or design, but you’ll immediately be aware of something off about it that will slowly instill an unshakable sense of creeping dread in you every time you see it. It moves on its own, and will even appear in public places as the encounter escalates. As previously stated, the toy cannot be burned, smashed, thrown away, abandoned, contained, hidden, or permanently destroyed/disposed of in any fashion. Seriously, if you can imagine it, this thing can either survive it or come back from it. Your only option to get rid of it is to wait until Heinrich Unheimlich has gotten his fill of your terror, or to gift it to someone else. If you can persuade them to take it, that is.

Ironically, so long as you remain frightened of the toy, you’ll find it to be mostly harmless. It may start escalating its nonsense if you become desensitized, however, and if you try to stand up to it or call its bluff, then you’ll need to check out our death reference. Heinrich's creations don't take kindly to heroics. Eventually, though, the toy will move on and vanish entirely from your home, taking your sanity with it. Feel free to play this for genuine horror or for creepy comedy, and get as intense with hauntings as your heart desires!

Snowflakes[cw: loss of autonomy, potential for NSFW]

Oh, the weather outside is frightful! Pink snowflakes are on the loose, and you might be their next victim.

During any regular snowfall, there will occasionally be a tiny, subtly pink snowflake fluttering among the normal flurries. If it lands on you, it'll bring out your affectionate side. How it manifests varies by victim, and it doesn't necessarily have to be overtly romantic, but you'll see effects ranging from making you cuddly, emotionally vulnerable, lonely and clingy, grandly romantic, or maybe even a little spicy…

Despite Mettaton's warnings, the urge isn't so strong as to drive you to cross boundaries against your will, so be nice! Or at the very least, only be as naughty as everyone involved is up for. Maybe you'll get a date for Merrymeet out of it! Happy cuffing season, and let it snow!

Tree Fae [cw: loss of autonomy, unreality]

LYou could find one in any tree. The old oak by the temple, its sacred roots entwined with the holy space it shelters. The young birch that marks the halfway point on your commute to the market. The gnarled maple by the train station. Or any of the naked trees hidden among the towering pines of Lockwood Forest. Almost impossible to spot when still, these emissaries of the fairy court known as the Green Willows will only move when they want to draw your eye. And if you meet their gaze, beady emerald gleams amid the bark of their skin, you are already under their spell.

The descriptions laid out in the article were pretty much what you needed to know. Once you are enchanted by one of these tree spirits, you will be away with the fairies in the most literal sense, wandering deliriously through an endless woodland until you encounter another person. A fellow victim, or a random woodland wanderer? It won't matter to the magic that binds you--- the trees demand an offering. A stolen item, a stolen kiss, a terrible secret, blood, or even a life.

If the person you've met is a fellow victim, they will be overcome with an urge that either matches yours or conflicts with it. Perhaps you can fight it off together, or perhaps you will succumb together. Or if the person you find is just an unrelated stranger, they may be able to help you snap out of it. Use of dice is not required, but highly encouraged to determine success or failure! If you're able to shake the spell, you're in the clear aside from having to walk all the way home, but otherwise you'll find yourself outside your own door somehow once the offering's conditions are satisfied. If you survive, that is.

Pokémon

Each season, new types of Pokémon can be found in nature around the island! They cannot be captured as the technology does not exist on Marrow Isle, but they can be befriended and kept as pets. Since there is no PC, each person can have no more than six. You can befriend any Pokémon who has at least one type that matches the list at the top of the newspaper, or that can evolve into one. (Eevee can be caught in any season.) Legendaries are off limits for obvious reasons, and mythicals can be encountered for fun but not kept! Evolutionary stones can be found in Paradesium, the magical subterranean jungle beneath the mountain to the North. Every type will be available at some point throughout the year, so if you don’t have access to your fave yet, check back next season!

Comments

QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/CONCERNS

[pumpkinhollow]

[spaghettimonster]

Quick note - in the top of the newsletter, where it lists Pokemon types, it's currently saying Fall! The pokemon types themselves look swapped over to the Winter set, though.

Sciel | Clair Obscure: Expedition 33 | 33 years old | OTA

[deathisafriend]

[ooc: I'll avoid writing any big spoilers, but some smaller things might come up. You can view her opt-out/content warnings HERE. I'm more than happy to work around any topics as necessary.]

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE CHILLY
Snow! It's all around! Oh, her poor husband would have loved this. She's not so sure she likes how cold it is, but the way it lays over everything like a silent hush feels... magical.

As she's crunching her way through piles of it to explore deeper, rubbing her chapped red hands against the chill, she notices something a little larger than a snow flake swirling in the wind just up ahead.

"Oh!" she exclaims when it perches on the tip of her nose with its cute little twig legs, "H-Hello? What are you?"

There's no answer, but the tiny creature blinks back at her slowly and then pats at her face in a manner that seems friendly enough.

"I guess you can stay there if you wish, but you are making it very hard for me to see little...one?"

---

Much to Sciel's wonder and delight, it doesn't remain 'one' for long. Another and another keeps drifting toward her, perching in her hair like a crown of cotton fluff, and taking turns orbiting around her on gusts of wind. It's all harmless fun, for the most part, but by the end of the second day, she finds herself struggling to see where she's walking past the white tornado of fuzz that follows her like a personal cumulus cloud. If she isn't careful, she could walk right into someone...

...Like you!

"Oops! Sorry. Who have I stepped on now?"

TREE-RELATED DISAPPEARANCES UNDER INVESTIGATION
What was that thing she'd seen? It both looked like a tree and wasn't. She almost would have sworn it was another kind of Nevron but she'd only seen it for a split second, long enough to make eye contact with and then... then she doesn't know. She's come back to herself in the middle of the woods, soaking wet and shivering in her meager arrival clothing and donated coat.

H-How did I get here? Where is this?"

[ooc: up for the whole spectrum from stolen items, kiss, secrets, or even violence, but the secrets option, especially, may reveal spoilers. The others could to a lesser extent, so if that's a concern we can do a little ooc planning to avoid it.]

PINK SNOW HEATS THINGS UP!
[OOC: I really like this prompt, but I think it would be easier for me to write custom starters for this one, so if you want a pink snowflake thread with her, tag in for discussion here or PM me and I'll write one up just for you. There is the potential for spoilers in this prompt, too, so let me know if you'd rather avoid anything.]

Chilly

[nevertakemyheart]

"Just me!" comes an easy-going, friendly voice. "Hi, I'm Zack!"

Some kind of animal makes a cute warbling sound.

OOC planning questions

[deepbluerevue]

[Hi! I think it’d be fun to have Grace meet Sciel through a tree fae encounter (or maybe pink snow?). I have a lot of fun with fraught situations, so I’m also down for any of those options! Considerations:
- I don’t mind about spoilers! I probably am not going to get around to playing Clair Obscur, I only have so much gaming time in me 😂
- If Grace is a bystander, she’ll be baseline sympathetic and wanting to help the newcomer snap out of it. If Grace is also enchanted, she’ll be baseline upset at the situation (loss of agency) but will be trying her best to keep a lid on it since she knows it’s not her co-victim’s fault.
- Grace uses a walking cane and is very steady on her feet but not very fast (owing to stiff knee), nor is she terribly athletic. This would affect her ability to steal an item/fend off a thief, or attack/fend off an attack. Which could be interesting! She usually considers violence beneath her, but has an even stronger objection to her person being infringed upon.
- If Grace needed to steal or provide a kiss, she wouldn’t have any beef with the other person, though she’d be mad about the situation. If it were pink snow, she’d be baseline a bit angry about the altered mental state, either during or after the episode once she became aware of the change. (These probably also depend on whether she’s already read about these seasonal hazards in the newspaper: if so, she’d compartmentalize better because, well, just another Pumpkin Hollow hazard…) Lonely/clingy or spicy could be very interesting, though I could see cuddly or vulnerable being a good option.

Oops, longer than I thought it’d be!! TL;DR what would be most interesting to bounce off of Sciel?]

Marik Ishtar | Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters | 17 years old* | OTA

[thetombkeeper]

[*he'll be 17 on Dec 23rd. happy early birthday terrible blorbo]

[ Winter Market - Perfumes ]

Having spent most of his time being a shut-in November, outside of getting supplies, Marik assumed enough time had gone by for those he tormented to... perhaps forget what he looked like. He's also changed his look up a bit. Dressed in a nice wool coat, tweed suit, and a newsboy cap, the teen's wearing his eyeliner in just a general smoky eye look instead out the out-right Egyptian application he always wears, and his blonde hair slicked back into a ponytail which is tucked into the cap. The two things that are out of place are his rather elaborate earrings and his piercing, soulless lavender eyes.

Which, those who have dealt with him in less than nice circumstances might recognize those very unique eyes despite his efforts to change things up. (He's far too vain to change everything.)

He has a small stand set up — a rack of small glass vials filled with different, pale colored liquids. Perfumes. Each has a simple label with the scent in the vial. Various types of the different floral that are available in Pumpkin Hollow that haven't died off yet due to the cold, different types of woods, gourmands, berries, and musks. The price listed is 5B.

And most importantly, there's a kesapasa napping on the brim of his hat. Marik seems content enough to not really move, simply people watching until someone approaches his table.

If approached, he offers a smile and says in a friendly tone: "Good day. If there's any scents you might be interested in that you don't see here, I can do personal commissions as well. Just let me know."


[ December 23rd ]

On this particular day, Marik will not be running his stand. Instead he'll be checking out the various shops himself and enjoying the entertainment for about an hour or two before he makes his way to the Temple of Sacred Roots when the sun is at the highest point in the sky. He stands directly in the sun light, as if basking in its glory. Occasionally you may catch him reciting things in an (mostly) unknown language.

For the later part of the day, he simply sits in the graveyard outside the mausoleum, possibly tending to any maintenance the gravestones may need. By this point, a collection of kesapasa clinging to his coat. You may approach him at any point, whether he's still in the Marketplace, outside the Temple, or in the Graveyard. Those keen on sensing emotions can tell he is sad and extremely bitter.

How dare this place make him celebrate his birthday all by himself. Him! The one destined to be the new Pharaoh! Why else would he have been born on the day of the rebirth of Horus? It's his birthright!


[ Tree Fae ]

He hadn't taken the warning in the paper seriously. He hadn't meant to look the beast in the eye but his pride got the better of him. And now he's been wandering for... gods know how long.

But then Marik hears footsteps and he turns to see — ... another person. His gaze practically pierces into them and his walking suddenly becomes more brisk, heading straight for the other person, silently like a shark in the water.

The question is, what does the Fae want him to offer? What does he need to take?

[ooc: Happy to discuss in PM or discord what terrible deed Marik will do or vice versa!]

Perfumes

[nevertakemyheart]

"Wow, you make them yourself?" Zack is impressed. "If Aerith was here, I would totally buy some for her."

He looks over all the scents regardless, curious and interested.

Mettaton | Undertale | Adult | OTA

[aghostinthemachine]

[ Givingstide Performances ]

Mettaton is absolutely ecstatic to perform for the Winter Market. He even had two custom outfits* made for his performances! (Although he primarily wears the Mariah Carey outfit. The Mean Girls dress is secondary.) If it was a popular song in the 80s, 90s, or early 2000s, the glambot likely knows and sings it. Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" and Wham!'s "Last Christmas," and Dead or Alive's "Blue Christmas**" seem to be his favorites but he also performs the classics, such as Earth Kitt's "Santa Baby" (which proves to be a bit of a steamy performance), Elvis Presley's "Blue Christmas," Burl Ives' "A Holly Jolly Christmas," Brenda Lee's "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree," so many more, and all of the commercially well known songs.

He'd, of course, love someone to duet "Baby It's Cold Outside" with.


[ Winter Market ]

When not performing, Mettaton's out and about in the market, partaking in as much of the festivities as possible and picking out gifts for everyone he's met thus far, even if they've only spoken once. He's rubbing his chin as he looks over the various stands and what they have to offer, still dressed in whatever outfit he was wearing at the time of his shows.

"... Do they sell Marimo Balls here? Is that even a thing?"

"Skeletons do get cold, right?"

"Do you think a dress is too much for a new friend?"

"Here, let me buy that hot chocolate for you, darling!"


[*artwork by min-min-minnie

**linked to this song particularly because Pete Burns is pretty much how I picture his singing voice]

Givingstide performances

[deepbluerevue]

Though Grace doesn’t hang around the winter market all the time, she certainly likes watching her fellow performers. It’s a little unclear what she thinks of the post-1980s songs… but she hums along to the ones she knows, and Mettaton’s rendition of Santa Baby actually makes her belly-laugh.

She applauds particularly loud at the end of his set. Once he’s done, she aims to catch his eye, then tilt her head at the empty seat next to her. If he has a minute, that is.

val | the silt verses | approx. 18-20

[vallerina]

Horse Thief
cw: blood, mild body horror

If you're a particularly upstanding town citizen, you might be prompted to investigate the reports of "bloodied areas in the woodlands." And if you do, you'll find a newcomer.

A young woman kneels in the snow, staring at the blood-spatter pattern before her. Even from a distance, it's clear that there's something not quite right about her. She doesn't seem cold, although maybe her military uniform helps with that. It's olive green, made from a thick (and in places, bloodstained) fabric, and it leaves very little skin exposed - just her head, neck, and hands. Looking at her for too long is difficult. There's something washed-out about her, something not quite in focus. Her pupils are the wrong size, and she does not blink enough.

When she realizes she has a visitor and looks up at you, it's like she's looking through you.

"Hello," she says, mildly. It's clear she's choosing her words carefully. A few of the wrong syllables are stressed. "Have you come to play detective with me?"

She treats it like a joke. But up overhead, clouds are gathering.

Heinrich Unheimlich
cw: references to parental abuse

Of course there was a doll Val always wanted. And she begged her mother for it, and her mother regarded her with chill and disdain, and that was that.

It appears on Val's bed in the Oak and Iron. Which is yet another sick joke, given that Val doesn't sleep in the bed. It leers at her through those glass eyes. When Val looks at it for too long, she sees her mother's daughter.

Unacceptable. Val attempts to smash it right there, but that doesn't work.

So she takes it outside, finds the driest sticks and logs she can, and a match, and...oh...she's burning it? Okay. Come burn dolls with her. Val herself is staring at the fire she's made, brooding and obviously pissed.

Tree Fae
cw: References to war, self-harm, unreality, loss of autonomy

Where she comes from, the other Saints leave her alone. They know she is already chosen; she is already marked. The ones here - because what are fae, if not Saints? - don't seem to understand that.

It happens quickly. Val looks at a tree in town. It looks back. And then she is the woods, wandering. It feels like she's walking to Nesh. Has she always been walking to Nesh? That's what they made her for. She needs to press on. Has to show them what she's capable of. That she can win their war for them, but can never be controlled.

And she needs -

- She crosses paths with someone else. You. And she looks you in the eye. Something makes her speak, but it's not The Last Word. It's something new. She wants to claw her throat out, but instead, she demands -

"Tell me something true."

Horse Thief (Capochin, 56)

[staybizzy]

As a matter of fact, he is.

Given that the reports reference wide open fields, when the Bizzyboys were recruited to help investigate, the consensus was that those who check it out should probably be both fast and mobile in trees. So that meant Capochin and Patty. (Hector's too damn slow these days, alas.) And so here he is, arthritic joints aching, trying to figure out why the hell people's horses are turning into blood milkshakes apparently, and there's some girl out here dressed...

Well, frankly, a little like him. If it weren't for some differences in color and style, she could probably be mistaken for a Bizzyboy.

"I ain't here to play nothin'." Capochin puts his hands on his hips. "What're you doin' out here, kid? You just stumble off da boat dis mornin' or somethin'?"

Grace Holloway | BioShock 2 | Early 40s | OTA

[deepbluerevue]

Winter Market

The windows of the Empty Pockets music bar are kept cracked all throughout the winter season, letting threads of music sneak out into the snow. Regularly, those outside hear a woman’s rich mezzo-soprano voice, timbre warm and bright in turns.

(The city of Rapture, being both under the sea and officially against religion, had neither snow nor Christmas. It did, however, love excuses for marketing, and its commercial singers kept snowy songs in repertoire.)

Inside, an apple-cheeked black woman in a tidy peach dress perches on a stool and carols to the audience, accompanied by a few instrumentalists, or occasionally by herself. Her voice has no trouble singing out sans microphone. From Irving Berlin’s I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm or When Winter Comes, to Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn’s Let It Snow!, to Benny Goodman’s Winter Weather, to Felix Bernard and Richard Bernhard Smith’s Winter Wonderland — it’s a bevy of early-twentieth century hits. On occasion, she even throws in a Silent Night. (Come the new year, her repertoire expands and shifts, bringing Frank Loesser’s What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? and Irving Berlin’s Let's Start the New Year Right into the mix, among others. Merrymeet naturally brings a squadron of tongue-in-cheek, innuendo-laden, not-quite-love songs. Good old Do Your Duty and Careless Love Blues get sung a few times — and others as well, when youngsters aren’t in the room.)

As she sings, she smiles to the audience, winking at the shy folks. In between songs, she talks, telling the audience little anecdotes, funny or seasonal, sometimes pulling her fellow musicians in on the improv. If she spots a newcomer during a song, she’ll probably grin and pull them into a little patter before the next one starts.

In between sets, she sits far from the door at a small table, nursing a hot toddy and staying away from the cold air blowing in, what with her clothes being better suited to autumn. But there’s often a seat reserved next to her even with the place mostly-full, and she’s happy to wave someone over if they’re looking for a spot.

Wildcard

[Interested in interacting another way? Message this journal!]

[lovethyneighb_or]

Mulcahy misses music, he's been realizing more and more over the past year. He misses listening to it as frequently as they used to be able to, back where he comes from, and even more than that he misses playing it. Ragtime, vespers, jazz. He used to be someone who made music.

Years have passed, though. He goes through phases of this. The wishing will pass.

But tonight, as he listens to Grace sing the first snatches of home he's heard in years and years, it aches. To modern Earthers it may be antique, but it was 1953 when Mulcahy left his world, and it feels like listening to the radio all over again. He's already determined that trying to rebuild a life there is a lost cause, but... surely, when the barrier comes down, a visit here and there won't be remiss? For his sister, and this. His world may be ready to leave him behind, but he isn't quite willing to do the same.

In the crowd is a kind shadow. Dressed in all black with white hair and pale skin, a silver cross hangs from his neck. When Grace looks at him, he doesn't notice. His eyes are closed as he listens close.

When she's sitting aside, he chances an approach. Mulcahy walks up quietly with his hands in front of him. "Hello, ma'am. I, ah, wanted to thank you for your set tonight. Your voice is beautiful, and I found it particularly touching in particular. I used to hear those songs on the radio where I come from, and it's been a... a very long time since I've been home."

Tarantulas | IDW Transformers | 6 million+ | OTA

[tisnotthehouse]

Winter Market

Among the trinkets and tasty winter snacks, there are several stalls selling coats and warm winter clothes -- but only one can boast the sale of blankets, shawls, scarves and handwarmers imbued with an actual warming charm, guaranteed to keep your extremities toasty no matter how long you stay outside. The purveyor of these goods is, of course, none other than Tarantulas -- although he himself is so heavily bundled up against the cold that all but his closest acquaintances could be forgiven for failing to recognize him. With his entire face covered except for 4-6 of his shining golden eyes, Tarantulas certainly cuts a strange figure -- although perhaps he will seem less intimidating if encountered on one of the days when his very young daughter accompanies him to the market, in which case visitors to his stall will be treated to the near-universal sight of a harried father trying to convince his toddler that no really, she needs to keep her coat on if she wants to stay outside. No, really. Dawn, this isn't negotiable! It's much too cold to run around in your shirt, you'll lower the effectiveness of your immune system. Yes, really! Darling, can you please just trust your father?

Apart from the charms each contains, most of the items Tarantulas is selling are perfectly normal coats and shawls, purchased in bulk from Cassandra de Rolo. However, a small number of shawls made from a more exotic material are also sale. They appear to be spun from a golden, silk-like material that seems to glow in the lantern light. Silk is rare on Marrow Island; the only source is the admittedly extensive closets of Leeds Manor. So how did he acquire such a material?

"I made it myself," Tarantulas declares with a haughty little sniff. "I am a spider, after all."

[thetombkeeper]

Gold and Marik go together like salt and pepper. The beautiful golden fabric catches the teen's attention immediately and he does a bit of a double take, stepping back towards Tarantulas's stall.

His hand hovers over the shawl, as if afraid if he touches it, it might get destroyed.

Made... by a spider, the being says. Marik only gives Tarantulas a quick glance before his gaze falls back on the aforementioned object of his affection. To have a shawl made from spider's silk, that is infused with warming charms surely is a sign from the Gods that he deserves such a thing. Spoiled fucking brat.

"How much for it?"

The Batter | OFF [Adult] (New Character, Current Player)

[lebatteur]

i. Winter Market

Directionless. That's a good word for the entirety of this place, but no place feels like it has less direction that makes up the festive marketplace. He's never seen a place that demands his attention so pressingly, with artisans at booths beckoning him closer to see their wares, cooks all but shoving samples into his hands, even patrons, who stop him to ask about how long he's been in town, and how he's settling in.

The Elsen certainly hadn't been chatty enough to brace him for any of this, and the cats here are silent. What a strange turn of events.

Easy as it might be to try to coast through this place, brush it off, and continue back to the Oak & Iron's warmth and fresh familiarity, that wouldn't be in the name of his newest mission, would it? He's been asked to integrate, so integrate he must. Perhaps he ought to follow by example.

Cue a face, so utterly devoid of features in its stark white, staring from beneath the brim of a slightly ill-fitting hat down to whoever seems like they could use a conversation. A deep voice, a flat affect bearing a thick French accent, comes from a mouth that looks like it does not exist when it isn't moving.

"What do you have there?" The question is, unintentionally, quite accusatory.

ii. Cursed Toys

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

It's been about an hour now, after a haggard dwarvish man shoved the clattering trinket into his hands, that the Batter has been trying to destroy it. By all accounts, it shouldn't be taking hits like it is. It looks like nothing more than a strange little doll, its eyes set in too perfectly so that they might follow you wherever they go and a grin spread much too far up its short snout. He'd thought it a simple enough task, and a reasonable, almost laughably easy, first task to take up to rid this place of evil.

Simple pieces and raggedy fur that should have shattered beneath his boot did no such thing. Thin limbs should have snapped beneath his fingertips. Even the goddamned fabric of its garish little vest should have ripped from its delicate stitches from a well-placed tug.

So why is it, that even after all this time, it's still intact?

Perhaps it isn't exactly neighborly to swipe the first cudgel he could find, take the detestable toy to a corner of someone's farmland, and do everything he can to all but lay siege to it, but he's set to the task with nothing short of a righteous fury. He's set it against stumps, poised it to let gravity do the rest, driven in into the ground, captured it between a stone vice, anything, and yet his weapon is threatening to split before the toy shows any signs of joining it.

Sweat practically pours down pallid skin, and in a rare moment to catch his breath, striking a match to light a cigarette, the beaten weapon is pointed to the doll.

"Foul poppet of the damned," he sneers down to the toy, having to pause to let out cloudy huffs of air while he recollects himself. "You hold no power over this place. You will be cleansed by my hand and cast back into the filth and corruption you come from. Yield."

The cymbal monkey, looking no worse for wear, simply grins back up to him silently. But perhaps it's eyes move to the side, almost imperceptibly, to take a look at an audience the Batter hasn't yet noticed.

iii. Wildcard

(( Please put this man in any type of ridiculous situations that come to mind, it's good for him. Also hit me up on Discord @ summertiide to talk out any ideas! :]

Cursed Toys [North, 31]

[gooddefense]

The audience in question is a tall, broad man in a thick sweater, a heavy coat, and a newsboy cap. He's leaning on a nearby fence, happening to own the farmland that the Batter has decided to use for this bizarre ritual cleansing of his. But hey, it's not every day a guy walks out of his house to see a strange, monochromatic man waxing fire and brimstone at a toy while he beats it within an inch of its little toy life with a big stick. This dude's enthusiasm is honestly a little hypnotic.

"Is that working for you?"

Drelasa Veloth | Morrowind OC | Adult (cw: mild body horror)

[misbegottendreamer]

Returning at the Turning of the Year
Where has she been these past months? Was she... anywhere? The only thing she can remember clearly is feeling pulled to the ferry one night, after a dream unlike any she'd had before. Everything after that feels like bubbles in a stream, fleeting and ephemeral.

Anyone that knows her will notice she's returned, at the start of December. Her name-bells are an unmistakable sound to anyone passing her in the street. Not to mention, she's quite an attention-getter to newcomers as well, what with her noisy presence and the five trunk-like flutes that make up the entirety of her face.

Either way, she goes about her business in town as if she never left, doing her best to pick things up where they left off.


Musings Amaranthus
Her control over her dreams has only improved, but at the same time, her dreams have been getting stranger.

It's hard to tell where her body ends and the materia of her dream begins. The visuals grow from her and break away. Echoes of her hands flicker as after-images, hands growing hands, fingers growing fingers until fractal flesh fills into solid surfaces. Membranes spin off from open sores to form into gossamer curtains. Bony protrusions break away and drop to the ground, growing into new objects. The world is not flesh, but the world is of her flesh. It is all one thing, pretending that it isn't.

And strangely, she finds this comforting.

Should the ringing bells of her dream-self call you to her somnolous abode, you will find her knelt in a garden, maskless and wearing a simple dress, tending to what appear to be bowl-sized hellebores, while two moons drift in the twilit sky above.

Musings

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth finds himself in this dream world. He isn't sure what to make of the visuals, but he's hardly one to criticize about strange, body horror-ish images considering what he can do himself (although at the moment he's just appearing as his usual self). So he walks over the grass, heading for her.

"Hello," he smiles.

He seems much more calm and at peace since the last time they met in a dream.

Ashley Graham | Resident Evil 4 (2023) | 20 years old | OTA

[bbeagle]

[ Winter Market A ]
"Um, excuse me..." The young lady's nose is pink from the cold, bundled up in the basic clothes of a newcomer. She glances at the other person's hot food or drink. "Where did you get that? It smells so good."

[ Winter Market B ]
The young lady's breath steams in the cold, snowy air, green eyes bright and merry as she makes her way through the streets of the winter market.

"Oh my gosh, that is SO cute!" Her fingers wistfully and gently squish a soft knit scarf, its deep red color as stark as blood in the light of the snow. "Feel it, I bet it's so warm!"

[ The Good, the Bad, and the Chilly A ]

Ashley is sitting on a bench outside, with only a couple of the little kesa pasa snow creatures around her. A couple of them cling onto her long, woolen skirt, knocking against each other as it blows in the breeze. One sits on the shoulder of her coat, up against her throat.

"You're cute, but you're s-so cold!"

[ The Good, the Bad, and the Chilly B]

By now, the shine has come off of the cute little puffballs, as about twenty or thirty of them cling to her skirt and coat like burrs. She huffs, a little bit of a stomp in her step as she enters the inn.

"Wouldn't you rather be outside where it's cold?" Just then, the kitchen announces that a fresh batch of cookies has just come out of the oven, and she perks up again. "At least I've got good timing!"

[ Tree-Related Disappearances ]
She'd thought she'd seen a face in the bark of the willow tree. Not enough to make her nervous, just something she thought was funny that she almost wished she could've pointed out to someone. If she'd had her phone, she could snap a picture, but her phone was way broken even if it was here.

Now, she's lost in a woods that seems to stretch out forever. It's been a long time since she was a girl scout, but she was pretty sure she was better at finding her way than this.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

[ Wild card! ]
((Want something else? Have an idea? Hit me up or just throw something out there!))

Winter Market B

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

There's a constable in uniform patrolling the winter market, mostly keeping an eye out for the occasional kid daring their friends to snatch something off one of the vendors' tables and to reassure people with his presence. It's not a hard assignment by any means, but he's taking it seriously, head held high and eyes alert as he paces up and down the street. He slows to a stop as a girl dressed in the clothes of someone definitely fresh off the ferry addresses him, starting to respond before the reality of the situation hits him.

"Yeah? I've bought clothes here before, they make solid st - wait. Ashley?"

For a moment, Leon's almost uncomplicatedly relieved to see her, before the implications catch up with him. If she's here, that almost definitely means she had to go through the whole deal with Mortanne, which means she came close enough to dying or actually died, and that's bad enough in and of itself but also means he has fucked something up immensely. Leon takes on the aspect of a deer in the headlights, stunned into silence as he tries to process all this.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus | The Locked Tomb Series | 19 y/o | OTA

[twohundreddead]

_{Opt-outs and content warnings can be viewed here! Please let me know if there is anything I can work around. CW for gore.}

When you lie down in a tomb, when that tomb is sealed shut with your body inside, when the rock is rolled in place— the darkness and the sword and the pornographic magazine at your head— it is to be expected that when you wake, you will find yourself in that very tomb.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House, Ninth Saint to Serve the King Undying, a most wretched and undeserving creature, wakes. Not to the tomb or sword or even the magazine— which wouldn't have interested her anyway— but to a woman wrapped in the finest umbra, with hair like so much crypt dust. And her, without her vestments. No iridescent Saint's robes, no bone jewelry, no alabaster paint to skullify her pale, brown flesh. And no veil. She is utterly, although not literally, nude.

She's given an ugly coat and is set out on the water by boat. Waves lap hungrily at its sides— over the wooden lip— spilling onto her feet. A man is speaking. She doesn't listen. She touches her beast and finds she has no thoracic cage to corset her, and what attempt she makes at conjuring one leaves her covered in blood sweat. She's without her bones, her tomb, her rock.

Her sword.

Her God.

God, Teacher, where have you sent me? Where is the River? Am I not your fists, your gestures?

I still love you.

- THE WINTER MARKET -

Harrowhark has never been to a market. Harrowhark has, in her poor memory, never bought anything, ever.

First thing's first; paint. She'd sooner skin the flesh from her own skull than go about barefaced. It's just not proper. The easiest and cheapest solution to this problem is blood, to which she has a warm and rushing supply. She paints her face in the skull of her House, blood shining wetly, and feels only marginally better. Should you stare for too long, you might find her black eyes smarting back at you, and a scowl like you've never seen. "Can I help you?" In the tones of, What the fuck are you looking at?

Perhaps you know a viable paint replacement.

Next; robes. Specifically, ditching her ugly, itchy coat for something more appropriate, which she does almost immediately— and neglects the coins in her pockets. She's halfway through her first lap around the market, dazed, when she realizes what she's done, and when she circles back to find it, her coat is missing.

"My coins." She stands, looking a little lost, dressed only in thin linen pants and blouse, with her face painted a horrendous shade of red, looking like a pauper dragged up from her grave. "Someone's taken my coins!" Said a little more shrilly, accusing the general population. "Excuse me. Have you seen a coat? Long. Brown. It's very important."

- TREE FAE -

In the dark, you see her. Thin like bird bones, pallid moonlight flecking her eyes as glowing pinpricks. Her makeshift robes give her a singular shape, and she drifts between the trees. Moves without moving. She smells of fresh blood and sweat— and she longs for you. To take your hands in prayer, touch your knuckles, see your bones shine under the night sky, and roll them between her fingers. She is a bone magician. A necromancer of the Ninth House. Bones is what she does. And yours— just a handful of them— will make a fine first addition to her collection.

In the dark, she stands very near to you.

In the dark, she says, "I will put you back together when I'm finished. It will hurt, but you won't die."

Whether you believe this or not is a matter of your own faith.

- WILDCARD -
_{Something else in mind? Hit me!}

The Winter Market

[thetombkeeper]

Marik raises an eyebrow at the woman with her face covered in blood, standing at his perfume stand as he watches her walk by. Lavender eyes meet black eyes, an unimpressed expression meeting a dangerous glare.

In response to her snarky comment, the boy says: "You could use something less... obvious for your face paint."

He would kill to have proper kohl makeup for his eye liner but... the liner they have here works well enough for the time being.

rowena macleod ★ supernatural ★ over 300

[magike]

★ WINTER MARKET

It almost felt normal, walking through a snowy market-- it was easy to be taken in by the various stalls, and the hubble and bubble of the crowd. You could forget death and uncertainty, or the potential promise that surviving might be an option. Rowena's steps were cautious, a careful path that led her through the crowd, and for anyone who looked close enough, a general unease bubbled under the surface.

Every so often, Rowena pauses by one of the stalls, examining some of the clothing, feeling the fabrics with a small smile when one appeals, but any offers of assistance are declined. As taken as she is, she isn't planning on purchasing anything-- yet. Though to some, she'll ask questions, some as simple as how long they've been honing their craft, or more personally, how long they've been here.

After a while, needing a rest from the crowd (and walking), she ends up with one of the festive baked goods, finding somewhere to sit to eat it. She watches others as they pass, and if anyone stops near, she offers them the other seat by her.

★ TREE-RELATED DISAPPEARANCES

You should never go into an unknown woods, particularly when the weather isn't the clearest. Rowena didn't always listen to sense, particularly not when the opposite held a mystery that intrigued her. In a place where she knew very little, it made her feel uneasy, and asking questions only provided her with a certain number of answers.

She should have been more on edge, but even with the empty branches and the snow around her, walking through the woods provided Rowena with a feeling of ease-- she could almost feel the nature here, soaking it in. Her magic felt weaker, the experiences leading to her death (or almost death) having drained her, and she planned to use some time to try and recharge-- a few exercises, even if time would be her best healer.

Finding an open area, Rowena stops walking, closing her eyes as she reaches out with her magic, gentle wisps brushing against the trees close to her. Until a sound startles her, crunching in a direction she can't pinpoint, and her eyes open.

"Hello?"

Maybe she should have listened to the warnings.

★ PINK SNOW
( 30+ for anything (potentially) spicier, but general affection open to all )

She's by the inn, stood just outside of the building, a mug in her hands. Rowena had been out for a walk that morning, mapping out more of the town in her mind before returning for lunch and something to warm her back up with.

The snowfall was delightful, and even with the chill to the air, it always made her smile; snow was one of the few fonder memories she still carries of her youth.

But this wasn't quite as usual, and Rowena had to wonder whether it was magic or a simple fact of this realm that she was in. Though they were fewer, the pink snowflakes that fell were curious, and her hand stretched out to catch some, to see whether they really were pink or just coloured from the light.

If someone's passing, or nearby as she does so, she'll greet them, before asking-- "Is this usual?"

Tree Related Disappearances

[thetombkeeper]

Likewise, the tomb keeper should have listened to the warnings. He wasn't generally one for walks in the snow. Far too cold for his liking. But he'd found himself lost before realizing just how far he'd wandered into the woods.

Ah, what luck though. There seems to be someone nearby... Marik makes his silent approach, something in the back of his mind telling him what he needs to do. An ice pick is tucked into his coat pocket, which he grips tightly. So absorbed into stalking this person, he fails to see the branch in front of him and it emits a loud crunch. With as silent as the forest has been, it's almost deafening in how noisy it is.

He curses under his breath.

Time to switch back to 'Namu' mode. The teen's demeanor becomes unsure and meek but, with Rowena being a witch, she can likely sense the ancient dark magic attached to what feels like only half of a soul in one body.

"H-Hello? Are you from town? D-Do you remember the way back? I feel like I've been wandering for hours..."

erik lehnsherr — xmcu — 62yo

[heavymetals]

WINTER MARKET

There's something distantly familiar about a Winter market, though it has been a long while since Erik has even seen one. Life in Genosha has been largely isolated from the rest of the world, which has overall worked well for him, but things that may seem fairly common to others may not be so to him.

The town in general doesn't make him feel so out of place. The overall lack of modern technology is a comfort, though being surrounded by so many non-mutants (whether humans or otherwise) will take a little more time for him to get used to. The market is, like many other places in the inhabited part of the island, warm and welcoming, and Erik finds that it's not hard to get into the spirit, at least in part.

He doesn't have much to spend yet, so he's content to simply look around, maybe spending part of what little he has on a pair of gloves, and otherwise nursing the occasional warm drink by the food stalls. He's not going to be skating, but he'll still watch as a few others take to the ice, maybe looking a little entertained by the effort of some of the adventurers trying to keep their balance.

HORSE THIEF

While he's yet deciding on what sort of job he'd like to take long-term, taking on smaller tasks for more immediate pay seems like a good temporary solution. It's cold out and one guaranteed way to conserve energy is to build fires, but for that one needs to gather wood for it. Erik doesn't excel at lumber work, but collecting already chopped wood is one thing he can do, so he sets out with one of the horses made available to the small group doing the work. They don't scatter too far when in the woods, but there's enough distance that no one realises immediately when something goes wrong, alarm only raised when a loud scream echoes through the air. Some of them flee, others stay still, but Erik is one of the few pushing forward, towards the noise of the scream as fast as he can manage— and as fast as his horse seems willing to go before it starts freaking out.

It's his horse that stops in its tracks with a neigh, stubbornly refusing to move forward, but they're close enough now for Erik to see as the other steed is sucked up into the clouds, the rider now fallen on the snow. Erik jumps down in a rush, not letting go of the reins, but unable to get too close unless he lets his horse flee.

"Move!"

Sorry, he's not going to wait. If there's any metal on the person's attire, they'll find themselves unceremoniously yanked back, away from where their horse had just been captured and closer to Erik instead.

TREE FAE

At this point, Erik knows that the woods aren't a safe place. But then, that has hardly ever stopped him before. It's curiosity and disbelief about fae folk that lures him to the woods again more so than any genuine concern over anyone who might have been taken, though if he happens to find anyone there that's lost, he won't turn away.

He just doesn't quite expect to find them so thoroughly hypnotized by the creatures, not even paying any mind as Erik comes closer and tries to snap them out of their spell. Or maybe he's the one who's wandering the woods, already lost to the enchantment placed on him. Hopefully someone else will be able to snap him out of his trance— or worst case scenario, he'll be joined by another victim who's equally eager to satisfy the fae's demands.

((ooc: i'll adapt to tag style, prose or brackets are both fine. feel free to pm me if you'd like to plot something in advance, otherwise I'm happy to wing it!))

Winter Market

[imjustaman]

A tall man with long silver hair comes along after a while, also looking a bit amused by the skating but not planning to join in.

"Not a fan of ice skating?"

Agni Azimar | OC, D&D | late 30s / early 40s

[for_i_have_none]

when first unto this country, a stranger I came (Arrival)

Off of the ferry steps an amber-skinned tiefling, with dark brown hair and beard and curling ram's horns and a bemused look on his face as he looks about the snowy scene. He's wearing the typical newcomer's simple shirt and trousers and plain winter coat, with a single alteration: a linen undershirt has been torn into strips and wound around his hands, to create a pair of makeshift fingerless gloves.

He could probably use a guide to get to City Hall for the standard new arrival procedure. Bureaucracy isn't something he's very familiar with.

be you bound for market-town? (Winter Market)

The following day he still looks bemused, but cheerful about it, wandering the Winter Market and looking with interest at the wares on offer. A few types of items in particular catch his attention -- gloves and scarves in bright colors, the odd bit of fine leatherwork -- but he doesn't stop at any one stall for longer than a glance.

If any passerby catches his eye, he'll address them. "I do beg your pardon, but how well do you know the shops in this town? I'm looking for secondhand, at the moment."

o, she's perilous fair (Yuki-onna)

The new fellow seems to have found a friend! Or perhaps something more? One might chance to see him escorting a coldly beautiful young woman into La Veritable Dragon Rouge, still wearing the plain newbie's clothing but topped with a brocade waistcoat and a fine coat -- a sharp eye will notice that it doesn't fit him perfectly, but the lady doesn't seem to care and that's the important thing.

Indeed, what the lady does or doesn't care for seems to be uppermost on his mind; he's an extremely attentive and charming date, focused entirely on her as they order a lavish meal and wait for it to be served. Except when she briefly leaves the table or her attention otherwise wanders, at which point he seems decidedly uneasy, looking about as though for help. Maybe that's you? Or maybe this predicament looks entertaining enough to watch for a while longer.

come along and sing a song and let's see where it leads (Wildcard)

[If you're interested in any of the other specific prompts, hit me up via dreamwidth message or at batyatoon on Discord! I don't know if I'm bringing this guy in proper or what, but I'll never find out if I don't give it a shot, right?]

O, She's Perilous Fair

[redlightgreenlight]

Valdis finds herself trying to go out more, to not stay hidden from the world anymore. Isolation felt far more painful now than before, but luckily she is recovering; more physically than mentally. Her clothing hangs properly again, her skin is now bright and her face no longer gaunt. It seems the perfect time to go to a nice place and try to return to some type of regular schedule.

Unfortunately, Pumpkin Hollow is anything but regular. The sight of the cold woman with the newcomer catches her interest, not just because her instincts tell her the woman is dangerous, but because the Tiefling she's with clearly needs some kind of rescue. The woman rises from her seat, perhaps offering a chance to intervene. She slips over, tapping his shoulder.

"I was a little concerned when you didn't show up last night. Usually you call to cancel," she says out loud with a pout, but in his head other words come softly.

Pretend we know each other.

Ishizu Ishtar | Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters | 20 years old | OTA

[itisdestiny]

[ Arrival ]

Death. She's died. Was it when her brother's evil half entered her room? Did he succeed in killing her as he intended? Ishizu wasn't sure but whatever the case may be, she was here now.

Would Marik be here? He was only a spirit, half of a soul without a body. If they weren't able to purge the evil currently running shotgun in his body, that would mean Marik's good side would disappear forever.

She places a hand on her chest and closes her eyes, collecting herself. Ishizu can only hope now that the Pharaoh will be able to save her brother.

Dressed in multiple tunic and shawl layers, along with a headdress, her eyes outlined in a very particular style of eyeliner, Ishizu walks the streets of Downtown Pumpkin Hollow, taking in the sights and atmosphere.


[ Yuki-onna ]

Ishizu is familiar with some Japanese folklore. You can't really escape it when visiting Japan for extended periods of time. However, the older Ishtar didn't think she'd ever crosse paths with the snow demon. Now Ishizu is arm and arm with the Yuki-onna, walking her down the street and towards where the main festivities are.

She doesn't seem distressed, at least. The Egyptian woman's expression is one of patience and mild amusement.


[ Winter Market ]

Despite a certain someone having a stall with perfumes at the market, Ishizu seems to miss that one entirely. She is familiar with Christmas and the way the surface celebrates the winter holidays. It's nice to see a community in a place even like this, everyone coming together and having fun.

There's a sad smile as she looks over an array of hair beads, holding them delicately in her hand as she inspects them.

"Mn, but it is not the same..." She says softly, her voice airy and elegant as if to match her regal appearance.


[I'm willing to throw her at people who have been affected by the pink snowflakes for the lawls as well.

And please feel free to notice some physical similarities between Ishizu and Marik!]

Winter Market

[imjustaman]

“Hm? Not the same as what?” A tall man with long silver hair looks over at the voice.

PAPYRUS | Undertale | low 20s? | OTA

[spaghettimonster]

💀 WINTER MARKET

The earlier days of the winter market see Papyrus out and about on the town, perusing various stalls and shops for things of interest. Some see a few purchases, as he has gifts to buy supplies for making, or little personalizing touches to add to his townhouse. Others are more of a windowless windowshopping affair, as he exclaims over the craftsmanship or asks about what it's like, being a salesperson, like he's sounding out what a change of career might offer.

The option to go sliding around on the lake has its share of nostalgic appeal, but he winds up loitering at the lakeside, bickering with the skate renters for insisting on strapping bladed boots to his feet.

"What do you mean, ice skating? Isn't the fun of a big frozen puddle that you just go sliding all the way across, in a straight line??"

💀 YUKI-ONNA

The Great Papyrus is no stranger to popularity, of course. Back in the underground, easily tens of people had known his name! He'd all but single-handedly been maintaining and improving the puzzles along the Snowdin Forest's main road, enriching the cultural experience for any passing through!! He'd even made a new friend, during that last day before finding himself ferried here?!

...None of which is, exactly, preparation for being propositioned by a fierce and icy lady. Oh, he's skimmed a dating manual or two, knows to show up in a different outfit for the occasion, and even to bring a gift! Whether the outfit or gift are to her liking, whether he finds himself interested only to get turned down, or if he ends up admitting he just felt pressured into giving it a shot because she so clearly wants to try...

Well, however his particular date winds up resolving, a day or two later will find that she's still looking for love, and he's now invested in helping her reach that happy ending. After all, he's eager to boast, he's already helped another dangerous lady admit her feelings and almost kiss about it!

So maybe your character happens to be the next she threatens into a date, and his skeletal smiling face keeps turning up in line of sight, shooting encouraging thumbs up and cards with advice written on them.

...Or maybe Papyrus is the one to grab your character's attention in the marketplace, insisting that, "you look like you could use a date! And I'm here to help... with breaking the ice, on behalf of a very intense, but surely nice inside, icy lady!"

💀 HEINRICH UNHEIMLICH

His first thought was that, somehow, an even more secret Santa was at work on Marrow Isle. After all, he joined in the Givingstide exchange, receiving an excellent army of figurines with which to wage new battle scenarios on the table by the front door... but that gift was expected, as part of a group-wide trade.

This, though, came as a surprise box on this doorstep, and in the form of an astonishingly familiar face - Fluffy Bunny, the rabbit star of a children's book by the same name, last seen on his bookshelf in Snowdin! An old storytime tale memorized further back than he can even recall...

And, he quickly discovers, it's actually a little unsettling, to receive the doll without a paired copy of the book, or card explaining its presence, or any explanation for its arrival at all. He's finding himself reminded of the person that temporarily resembled Sans so strongly, in looks and voice and sense of humor - at least until Papyrus had been distracted into turning his back too long. Something about this bunny doll, too, is so familiar but somehow off, reminding him of that run-in...

Maybe it's the fact that, despite trying to leave it in his entry room under the watch of all the army figurines, it keeps popping up on his bed like it's waiting for bed time stories. Or, even more fun, appearing in the bathroom just out of sight from the doorway, so he only discovers it sitting on the sink or blocking the doorway when he's emerging from the bath. It's taking shortcuts, to alarm and frighten him! What a terrible homesickness???

So Papyrus is out of the house, a cold sweat on his skull made all the colder by the (likewise familiar) winter weather, looking for a friendlier face for help with this whole problem.

"Hey, by any chance... Do you know how to convince a haunted doll to stop haunting people??"

💀 TREE FAE

Papyrus has to admit, if only in the privacy of his own skull, that he much prefers evergreens to the trees that shed their leaves. He'd take a pine tree any day.

He'd take a pine tree on, for that matter. After all, he's pretty sure the average needley tree can't disorient him and plop him somewhere in the woods like this, for all he's been surprised by the powers of plants before. His bones and mobility vs even the most towering of pine tree's needles and weightclass...? A much fairer fight than this illusion garbage!

It's a shame that reading the newspaper, skimming through the warning about illusionist trees and strange compulsions, hadn't prevented this surprise trip. But then, he'd been distracted by thoughts of whether that book had been made from such a tree's pulp, and then wanted to think about other things, and never got back around to plotting his plan of attack if he found himself facing one. And as for their advice on avoiding an encounter... It had been too terrible a plan to enact! Walking about, hanging his head towards the ground and avoiding looking at his surroundings, as if scared to face the people around him...?! He works far too hard at being cool and confident to ever retreat to bad habits like that again!

"Hey, are you a tree?" he calls out instead, on alert for any sign of more trees making suspicious movements, as well as hopefully finding someone else in the same boat of the only recently reoriented the better to get this over with. "...cunningly hiding your bark? I had things to do!"


[ooc: I haven't settled on a single thing he's going to be demanding of his victim(s), open to anything from exchanging secrets, picking a relatively playful fight, or stealing something, but him talking in 5/7/5 format and trying to pressure them into haikuing back is on the list of possibilities. :P]

💀 WILDCARD

I'm down for brainstorming other interaction premises, if none of these suit. Feel free to poke me on the plotting post, by PM, or in the game's discord if you've got some seeds of another idea in mind!

Winter Market

[thetombkeeper]

The New Year has Marik spending a little less time selling his perfume at the market. From being assaulted by Kris, threatened by Gaeta, and his involvement with running errands for Tarantulas, the boy has been hiding from the busiest part of town.

Money is nice though. He keeps his ice pick with him at all times, just in case.

Now, there aren't that many unusual looking people here, so when a walking skeleton passes by, Marik immediately recognizes him. He blinks, remembering the presents he received from his short-time lackey. 'Ushabti' was what he called him but the letter was signed 'Papyrus.'

Marik calls out, his voice much friendlier sounding that it had been in The Stranger, and his smile is lighter.

"Papyrus? It's been a while."

Luo Binghe, pre–Jin Lan city | Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System | 20 years old

[bingmeiification]

[Preexisting player, new character! Note: trying to emulate “translated webnovel” cadence for comedic purposes in this TL, I probably will not do this the whole time]

YOU CAN YOU UP | Closed to Shen Qingqiu

The air is fresh, the residents are polite, and Luo Binghe has clean clothing. Already, the situation is much preferable to the last time he went to hell instead of dying. Of course, this doesn’t say much at all: if the worst has already happened, then naturally there is nowhere to go but up.

Still, to be knocked over once again is a setback. Luo Binghe should have found a way to excuse himself from helping with that pressurized diving bell. Even if it was intriguing as an idea, it definitely wasn’t worth it. The entity who spared his life refused to give an estimate as to how long this mission would take. Returning quickly was absolutely the priority.

The newly arrived youth on the streets of Pumpkin Hollow has a striking appearance: skin as pale as snow, eyes as black as ebony, and cheeks red as blood. His raven-dark hair is partly tied back to preserve his vision, the rest falling straight down in a silky sheet. The form of his body is slender but firm, even the arrival clothes don’t look bad. What a peerless beauty! Ah, even the distant expression he wears intrigues the heart.

First I will learn more about these jobs that the town mayor described, thinks Binghe. One of these will be a position where a person with open ears may learn a great deal. Luo Binghe has spent more than a year bringing Huan Hua Palace into his grasp, so to do the same here is only second nature.

And so Luo Binghe does just that! Within half a shichen, he is speaking with a seller of secondhand clothing. Better to say he is charming her: she looks too flattered for it to be anything else! Very soon, he has traded his brass for worn boots a little better suited to the winter.

NO CAN NO BB | Winter Market | OTA

Luo Binghe is a young man with purpose. His purpose? The same as it was when he first got off the ferry, but a lot more urgently now! And that purpose is to learn as much about the people of this place as he can manage.

If someone has food, he sweetly asks what it is, and where did they get it. If someone has a scarf or a hat, he compliments it and asks the maker’s name. If someone is walking hand in hand with a small child or has a baby in their arms, he exclaims over how handsome and healthy they are. All of this he does with utmost sincerity. Truly, he does his best to lick every surface with his silver tongue.

In particular he examines the food stalls, an almost solemn expression worn on his face as he asks after every ingredient and dish. As to be expected for a vigorous young man!

NO ZUO NO DIE | Tree Fae | OTA

But ah, all of that focus can have quite a downside. Luo Binghe has not read the newspaper — in fact, he has not even read the notices on the public announcement boards!

And yet when he finds himself trudging through the forest, he is not surprised. Not because he was warned, but because something can be depended upon to happen to him no matter where he goes.

If he comes across a person, he knows immediately what the magic wants from him. And he doesn’t want to go get it, not even a bit, so the other person will see a snow-soaked young man clinging to a tree as if it is keeping him from falling over, with his jaw clenched far too tightly, his reddish-black eyes fixed upon them.

“Go away,” he says. “Go away, now!”

YOU CAN YOU UP

[xiaoxiuya]

The marketplace is bustling, filled with excited shoppers and cheerful vendors hawking their goods -- but how could Shen Qingqiu fail to notice such a familiar presence, a qi signature that he knows even better than his own? He hastily suppresses his own qi and, after ducking into the space between two buildings, leaps onto the nearest rooftop. From such a vantage point he can much more easily survey the ground level, until he locates...

Yes! Oh, there he is: Luo Binghe, in the flesh. Not even a plain starter outfit can hide his youthful vigor or masculine beauty!

...It's still pretty weird to see him dressed so plainly, though! The last Luo Binghe wasn't dressed like this, he was wearing a set of black dragon robes picked out in gold embroidery with real pearls for the eyes! Just the thing for an imperial ruler attending the birthday party of a minor noble. In fact, the last time Shen Qingqiu saw any version of Luo Binghe dressed so plainly, it was...

Ah, it was last February, when an entirely different version followed him around town like a lost puppy for a few weeks before vanishing as suddenly as he arrived. There was no way to tell what had become of him, so Shen Qingqiu had had to content himself with wistfully hoping he'd found his way back to his own world and some lasting happiness. And then before that was a more aggressive, angry Luo Binghe who trapped him inside a warding circle in Paradesium and interrogated him for over an hour before likewise leaving...it would be enough to make a lesser transmigrator's headspin.

But Shen Qingqiu is an old hand at such multi-versal shenanigans by now, and so...It seems all right to him to tease this newcomer just a little, before they get down to any difficult conversations that may be pending. With a wave of his hand, a spring-green leaf formed from spiritual energy appears in his palm; this he sends wafting down on a gentle breeze to dance before Luo Binghe's eyes and lead him out of the crowd, with Shen Qingqiu secretively following from the rooftops. He won't insult Luo Binghe again by automatically assuming he means him harm, but...it would still be better, he thinks, to have their first conversation somewhere less public.

Mr. X | Resident Evil 2 (2019) | Adult | OTA

[t_00]

[ooc: Tag in at whatever stage of the prompts below you feel like, or request a custom prompt! T-103-00, colloquially known in Resident Evil fandom as "Mr. X", is non-verbal and may communicate via rudimentary sign language. It understands English. It's also a seven foot tall (213 cm) mutant clone, so uh. More details and visual references here!]

Arrival (stepping off the ferry)

It stands on the deck of the ferry, stares unblinking toward the approaching island. Everything smells of salt, cold, and the hot metal of the ferry's engine. No smell of blood. No infection.

T-103-00 was told that it died. That seems wrong. It must have regenerated. But it does not understand death. Death only means failure to complete its tasks. But the chip embedded through its skull remains silent. No itching hiss pressing down into its thoughts to tell it that a task remained incomplete. It knows it failed. Why does this failure not register? Why does it feel as quiet as success?

It had been instructed to proceed to the island, and search for further direction. It had been told this was a choice. It did not see a choice. It saw an imperative. It had failed its tasks. It needed to correct this. But now it stands on the deck of the ferry, and it does not understand the path forward.

The new clothes feel wrong. T-103-00 had been issued new clothes while it regenerated. It remembers the old ones tearing as regeneration boiled into disordered flesh, but it remembers very little else. Fire. Burning. Half-blind. Its heartbeat grown loud. Anger.

The limiters under its skin had been damaged. T-103-00 had mutated. It should not have regenerated cleanly after that. The limiters have been placed inside them again, and they also feel wrong. It does not understand why. Maybe the company altered it again.

The ferry knocks gently against the dock. T-103-00 does as instructed, and gives two delicate pieces of metal to the human on board. Something about the man smells wrong. It steps off the ferry, and begins a search pattern.

Searching (wandering in the town)

The cold temperature is optimal. Tyrant units generate more heat than humans. That is why T-103-00 has been instructed to never run unless countermanding orders demand it. Moving quickly produces too much heat. Makes it less efficient. When temperatures remain low, it can continue to function until its energy is completely depleted.

It moves through the streets in a methodical search pattern, not slowing for those in its way. Occasionally opening doors when it hears a noise or smells something strange, leaning down to look inside, or to enter fully and survey the space. All buildings are functionally the same: A space to search. It does not break anything that it is aware of--but metal can be soft and malleable, and wood is fragile. It has to be careful.

Guarding (Horse Thief, with bonus Pokémon. Future content warnings consistent with prompt.)

The lack of clear instructions is frustrating. T-103-00 is on a field assignment, and not on assignment. It has no extraction point. Irrelevant sounds and smells are becoming hard to tune out. Noxious. It leaves the densely-populated area, searching further.

There are strange sounds ahead, high-pitched and growing louder. Movement. Unfamiliar animals are in disorder. One leaps over a fence and comes racing toward it.

"Hey!" a human calls. "Hey you there! Catch him!"

It is a clear instruction, and at this point, T-103-00 will take it. Intercept and apprehend. It advances at an angle to trap the creature against the fence. The unknown animal skids to a halt, eyes wide in its long face, sparks showering from metal shoes. Close enough to grab the leather straps attached to its head.

This, it learns, is a horse. Something has been attacking horses, and they must be guarded. Guarding targets is also a simple task. Grounding. T-103-00 takes up a position with clear view of the targets and the surrounding landscape. It will be easy to keep track of the horses, because they refuse to leave a large structure that smells like damp wood and dust and organic waste. The human is confused, nervous, but does not try to stop it.

T-103-00 stands there. The human leaves. The horses slowly grow quieter, smell less like fear. One of them is brightly-colored and smells strange. It was missed in the original headcount, possibly because it is very small and was hidden in the structure. It seems to be focusing on whichever horse smells most afraid, attempting to calm them. It is useful.

T-103-00 stands there. The small horse approaches its knee, and looks up at it. It looks down, still uncertain what this horse is. None of the others look like this. The horse might be a mutant. The horse doesn't smell infected. T-103-00 doesn't know whether non-infected can experience mutation. It's never encountered any before.

The sky is getting dark, and the clouds are lowering to obscure the remaining sunlight.

There is a strange smell. It does not know where the smell is coming from. The horses smell more afraid.

Reorienting (Tree Fae)

T-103-00 searches a forest, the trees still and leafless. It does not know how long it has searched. Its sense of time is usually perfect, and its sense of direction is reliable. But it cannot remember how it got here. It only remembers green eyes. Now all it sees is a confusing expanse, an overwhelming endless expanse of contrast, dark wood and white snow.

It tries to exfiltrate by following its own trail. The snow has drifted and obscured its footprints. It begins a new search pattern.

Resetting (Kesapasa and Pokémon)

Tyrant units are only sometimes patient. Focus defines them more than any other quality. Tasks are fulfilled. That is how they function. Lacking clear direction, T-103-00 is becoming frustrated. It is searching for something to give it direction, but every unfamiliar sensation is becoming noxious. It wants to be ordered into storage, where the dark nothing of waiting allows it to reset.

Without the order to rest, it does not. It wanders. The terrain is broken, and it is quieter. Its own footsteps are still loud. A small, hairy creature hops ahead of it, leaps between some rocks.

A red eye opens just above the creature's passage. T-103-00 stops to assess the target. Unknown. Smells metallic. Not alive. A camera?

The unknown object detaches from the rocks and hovers, moving in a scanning pattern. The unfamiliar shapes of its limiters respond, shifting under its skin. The unknown object is tampering with company equipment. It must be disabled.

T-103-00 steps forward to strike, and the maybe-camera re-centers on its face. The control chip in its head hisses loudly for a moment, and then settles. In the wake of the hiss, the world has shifted. Sensory overload is gone. Reset.

T-103-00 halts. Reassesses. This unknown object has functions can help it maintain a search pattern.

It reaches out and takes hold of the object. The thing floats weightlessly, camera-eye rotating wildly, then settles. The weight is no greater than a substantial human. Easy to carry. Good. Confusing, and good.

Searching (cw: gun violence, unprovoked and by a cop) (I'm sorry)

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

Leon doesn't have a lot of time to patrol the streets personally these days. Stepping into the role of acting Chief Constable while Valdis is out has eaten up a lot of his working hours, but he does make a special effort to spend at least some of his time personally checking on things. It's during one of these outings that he hears alarmed shouting coming from one of the nearby houses, its door hanging wide open.

"Who are you? Why are you in my house?"

It doesn't take a moment's thought before Leon runs towards the commotion, peering in the door only to find a spine-chillingly familiar sight. The Tyrant, just as he remembers him from all those years ago, looming over a panicking elven woman. For a split second, Leon wonders if he's really there. It could be another nightmare, couldn't it? Or some hallucination or other trick. There's no time to think too hard about that, though. In the span of a breath he's pulled his gun from its holster and fired into the Tyrant's back - knowing it won't seriously harm the thing but also that it's the best way to get his attention.

"Get out of here! Run!" he shouts at the woman, keeping the gun trained on the Tyrant. He has no idea how he's going to handle this. He knows he has to try.

Theta | RvB | (equivalent of) 13ish [Existing player, new character]

[n0rthernlights]

Arrival [closed to Teddy and North]

One moment, Theta is not Theta, he is the Meta and the Meta is everyone and the Meta is no one. The next, they are nothing—a bright flash, a spark, tearing their code to bits and bytes with nowhere to go. And then—

And then Theta wakes up.

Which doesn't make sense, really; AI don't 'wake up' the way that people do. Theta has spent his short existence blinking in and out of awareness like a switch being flipped. He never really liked that. Being offline isn't like sleep, but it's not like not existing, either. It's this strange state of in-between that leaves him too aware of the absence. But this isn't that. This feels the way it always felt when North woke up, but without the distance.

More confusing than even that—he sits up. He sits up, and he feels the surface he's sitting upon, and when he looks down at himself he sees hands. Pale-skinned, solid hands attached to a body wearing clothes and— "Whoa."

The strange woman with the gentle voice talks to him, then, and Theta finds himself trusting her without really understanding why. She explains the offer to him simply and, before he even has a chance to ask, tells him that North has already accepted the same and Theta answers yes so quickly, then, that he thinks the lady might find it kind of funny.

And so Theta steps off the ferry onto Marrow Isle. Walks, for the very first time, on legs a little shaky where he lacks the muscle-memory of someone born into flesh and blood. Feels the cold on his face, the strange sensation of the wind against his wide eyes, the pressure of the ground beneath his boot-clad feet, the faint scratching of fabric over his skin. It's all so strange and exciting and maybe a little bit terrifying.

Still, he plants his feet on the ground, stands as tall as his short stature will let him, and looks up at the welcoming committee to say (voice only wavering slightly): "I-I need to get to my agent. He needs me."

Northwest Hollow

There is a child, loose in Northwest Hollow.

Theta's not necessarily meant to be wandering off. It's not like North is shutting him up in a tower or anything; Theta's mature enough to take reasonable care of himself. But he is new to having a human body, and is a lot more fragile for it, in comparison to riding around in North's head only projecting as a hologram. So he has promised to be careful and not go too far from home without someone with him, at least while they're adjusting to the new situation.

But that very same new situation is exactly why Theta's so very full of curiosity and excess energy. There's snow—snow he can touch, and isn't somewhere dangerous like Sidewinder. And North is letting him help out with the chickens, which is cool, but also they're surprisingly fast for such round, pudgy birds and he's still getting used to having limbs. So sometimes one gets past him. And he runs after them.

Which is one way you get a strange, blonde child with unnatural magenta and blue eyes wandering through the farmlands of Northwest Hollow. Sometimes he's actively chasing after a chicken, calling: "Epsilon! Come back here!" Other times, he's already caught the little menace and bundled the bird up into his winter coat. And a few times, he's just got distracted by something and wandered out this way all on his own, looking just as lost as he kind of is.

Heinrich Unheimlich

The toy soldier appears in the bag he takes for school. It wasn't there the night before and North wouldn't give him something without telling him, so Theta assumes it must have come from South—she's the only other person in the house, after all, and maybe it's a peace offering? Weird, but South's been acting weird since he arrived, and she's at work right now anyway, sooo... he just packs up for school and decides to ask her later.

And so the day goes on normally, until he looks up from his desk to see the toy soldier standing on the window ledge. Just the sight of it fills him with a shock of dread so intense he almost gets out of his chair, but he swallows it down and tries to focus—he already likes school, he gets to learn things, and still it's hard to ignore the thing in the corner of his eye.

At break time, he grabs it and stuffs it back in his bag. But it reappears in another window during lunch, and then again during another class, and then it's in his coat pocket when he's getting ready to go home.

He spikes the thing into the snow as his fear does the same inside his chest.

Suddenly aware of the crunch of footsteps in the snow behind him, he turns around, half-way between scared and embarrassed. "It's following me!"

Wildcard

Hit me. Teens can find him at school and such on a normal day, too, and I can plausibly put him a few other places if you ask!

OOC: Theta appears to be an ordinary child of about 13, but started out his existence as a highly advanced military AI that assisted his agent in many field operations. His childlike nature was a side effect of being created as a representation of the concept of trust by another AI (it's complicated). So he is, functionally, a teenager, but he's also a little bit weird, has experienced some things that a normal child his age absolutely should not have, and will often behave beyond his years due to his original nature (while also being noticeably under-socialised and immature in other ways). This won't be obvious until he says/does something that gives it away, but his eyes might jump out as unnatural and he's definitely a Bit Weird.

I'm also very aware that he's the youngest full character around and will be keeping him away from serious physical harm thanks to some low-level powers his human body has been left with.

Arrival

[in_for_a_penny]

As part of the aforementioned welcoming committee, Teddy is more than content to let Yorick go through his usual spiel, standing primly with his fingers laced and his ears raised tall on either side of his hat. He's just about to explain who he is when the boy says something about an agent, and the words of Teddy's own rehearsed explanation die on his tongue, just long enough for him to trade a puzzled look with Yorick.

"Ah... well, you know, if there's someone you're looking for, we'll gladly get you reconnected with them," Teddy offers gently, moving to light a hand on Theta's shoulder, the soft touch guiding him to begin walking by his side, down the road in the direction of the dormitory. "But to get us started, my friend, what's your name? If we're going to get in touch with your agent, I'd need to tell him who I've found, right?"

He's still unclear on the agent situation, but it wouldn't be the first time he's gotten a new ward under his wing with strange circumstances from their prior life. Best to just try to work with it until he can't dodge around needing clarifications anymore.

Jax | The Amazing Digital Circus | 27

[jaxinthebox]

Set-Up
[ winter market + haunted toys ]

Huh. This is new.

A long spiel about he died, a boat ride, and a spooky island. A guy in a stupid little hat walking him around, talking about how nobody can die here, and how there's been a ton of offworlders just like him, yadda yadda yadda. An outfit that isn't the stupid overalls anymore, at least. Victorian architecture? Free money?

Well, of all the adventures they've got on recently, this one might just be decent. Time to himself, at the cost of a bunch of preamble and lore-dumping? Great, fair trade-off, see ya.

Hands stowed in his trouser pockets, Jax picks up a few ends and odds from the market, buys himself a snack, finds a weird little plushie, and doesn't even wind up running into any of the others. Maybe the prompt for this one was "alone time in a Victorian Village"? He's sure not complaining.

It does strike him as a little odd that he doesn't spot any familiar weird shapes among the crowd, though. But it's hard to worry about it when there's better things to focus on.

Namely, being getting rid of this weird stuffed animal and it's awful vibes.

He tosses it from one gloved hand to the other, humming an aimless little tune, before he catches eye of one of a particular face. With a toothy grin, he flags them down, and outstretches the plush without hesitation.

"Hey, you're somebody who looks like they could use some kind of weird stuffed walrus. Isn't it crazy that I just came into one? You can have it. It's on the house and everything."

Build
[ jean jacket ]

The adventure finds a really, really interesting way to stop being fun.

Jax expected a few things to happen. Skeleton warriors? Pitchfork ghosts? Squid demons? Sure, any of those would've made sense. They're practically Caine-classics. Maybe even a bear would work, at this point, considering that he's taken a stroll out through the farmlands, tromping through frost-crusted grass and little piles of snow.

He's not worried about it when the wind picks up - but, then, it starts to threaten to pull him off the ground.

He only has just enough time to grab a nearby fence before he gets yanked upwards to see a fucking UFO trying to drag him up.

When he hits the ground with a heavy thud, it takes him a moment to figure out who's screaming, before it hits him: those are definitely his screams, leaving his throat raw in addition to his aching back.

And the second that the UFO dips up into the clouds, Jax runs for his life.

He knows that he can't die. Nobody really dies on these adventures— but that felt too real, too close, and he doesn't want to chance it again. Who's idea was this? Since when do UFOs go in historical settings? This is stupid, and whoever set this up is never going to hear the end of it.

For now, though, the only safety he can find is a nearby farmhouse, and he flings open the door just long enough to slip inside, slamming it behind him and leaning back against it, breathing in ragged huffs of air.

And, once he catches sight of the apparent owner of this house, he squints his eyes and widens his grin awkwardly.

"...Hhhi. Nice place you got here. Love what you did with the decorations."

Punchline
[ tree fae ]

Jax doesn't remember how he got here, but it's starting to get old.

This forest goes on forever. His knees are aching. His fingers are cold. The tips of his ears are probably frostbitten, at this point. He can never seem to find his way back to town, no matter which way looks almost right. It's like these trees keep turning him around on purpose.

He remembers a strange tree, a direction, and a task before he found himself here: eyes on a birch tree looked all too real, and branches reached down, asking him for one simple thing.

A confession.

Where the hell is he supposed to get a confession out of somebody in an empty forest?

He frowns deeply, letting out foggy huffs into the air. Snapping twigs could be animals, like they've been so many times, but he's getting nowhere. Going out on a limb, he cups a hand around his mouth, and calls out.

"Hello? ...Anybody out there?"

Set-Up

[heartofadreemurr]

When the plush is unceremoniously shoved into their face, Kris makes no movement to accept it, simply giving the current owner a suspicious look. "When was that thing made, like 29 years ago or something?"

violet vespertine || ffxiv (oc) || early thirties (don't tell anyone) || ota!!

[e3ccfb]

1. the market

It's a beautiful, bustling day at the Winter Market, and an unfamiliar face is attempting to haggle.

"Fifty brass? Really? Fifty."

Slight in both build and stature, and wearing a perfectly pleasant expression on his face besides, there doesn't appear to be anything particularly strange about this scene — until, that is, one looks a bit closer, close enough to spot the tension pulling at the corners of his lips, or the agitated back-and-forth twitch of his leporine ears.

"Do you think I don't have eyes?" His voice is sweet, but his words are dripping with venom. "Or do you just think you can pull a fast one on me because I'm new in town? Do you really think I can't see that what you have here is worth ten, maybe fifteen brass at best? Come on, now."

If he's paying any mind at all to whatever crowd might be gathering for the scene he's steadily making, it doesn't show; his attention is squarely on the poor shopkeeper, as well as the item at issue, which is...a knife, as it turns out. Not one large enough to be reasonably considered a weapon, nor is it particularly ornate or remarkable in any other way — but this man's interest in acquiring it is both keen and clear.

2. the toy

Even if one leaves aside the fact that it all began with the news of his own untimely death, this really, truly has not been a good day for one Violet Vespertine.

Practically speaking, the notion that he's dead might as well be the least of his worries. He's on wholly unfamiliar ground, in an unfamiliar world, without so much as a single one of his resources or contacts to call upon, without anyone he can trust to watch his back (and without as much money as it would take to stand in for that level of trust)...

And he can't even find a good goddamn cigarette, besides. Not that he's asked anyone where to look, of course; the last thing he needs is anyone else knowing exactly how much he doesn't know his way around this place.

Not to mention—

"Wait, I didn't ask for—"

—the weirdo who's just pressed something into his hands before quickly shuffling away.

Ugh. Vespertine supposes it's better that the guy didn't try to take anything from him, but that doesn't make him any happier to be given one more thing to deal with. Whatever it is, maybe he can just drop it in the trash, or...

He pauses, then, as he realizes exactly what it is he's now holding in his hands: a soft ragdoll sewn to look like a rabbit, with long floppy ears and a lilac-colored bow around its neck.

Vespertine's grip on the doll tightens, such that his hands begin to shake.

"What, you think this is funny!?"

He snaps out the words with a snarl, lip curling and teeth bared, as he whips around...only to find that the gift-giving weirdo is no longer there.

"What—" His ears swivel back, and a frustrated growl looses from his throat as he stomps on the ground. "Where the fuck did he go!?"

3. the fae

He doesn't understand. He can't understand it. What is he doing here, in the middle of this dark wood? Why is he here? How is he here?

The wood — not just this wood, but any wood — may well be as alien to Vespertine as the surface of the moon. The land of his birth was one of sparsely-forested mountains, of snowy climes and treacherous stone, and ever since then — days he would much rather forget — it's been one city street to the next, to the next, to the next... But nothing nearly so claustrophic, so imposing, so dark as all this.

His feet stumble on uneven ground, slipping on an unseen root that sends him crashing down with a sharp cry.

Why? Why is this happening? Why is this happening to him? Why? Why?

"Hh—"

He's still lying miserably on the ground, still trying to collect enough of himself to keep stumbling on, when the sound of someone approaching catches his ear — and he scrabbles upright, not quite to his feet but enough to get himself into a defensive posture.

"Who's there!?" His shoulders are hunched, teeth bared, ears back and eyes wide in a look he intends to express more rage than fear. "Stay the fuck away from me, or...!!"

( hello it's valya |ω･`) i have nothing specifically in mind for the tree fae prompt but i'm up for just about anything!!! if you'd like some more info on this guy, i have a page with permissions and basic stuff to know right over here! which might get some stuff added to it after i post this idk;;;;; sorry!!! )

the market [Kris, 16]

[heartofadreemurr]

The arguing is obviously drawing a bit of attention. There's a new guy barking at a shopkeep--- clearly he hasn't gotten with the whole small-town kumbaya trauma bond vibe around here. Typical. Give him a month to go through hell and make a friend to break him in, he'll be fine.

Kris is more interested in the subject of the argument --- a knife. Hello, special interest. It's small and not much to look at, but the price is apparently more to do with how well-made it is. At least, that's what Kris's keen eye picks up. Plus it's a nice, stealthy size, and this guy doesn't seem to be the type to be peeling apples with it. (Although he might peel carrots.)

So invested are these two in their haggling that Kris's small form goes unnoticed for a good long while before they abruptly slam a fistful of coins onto the table. "I'll pay a hundred for it."

Shen Qingqiu (Yuan) | SVSSS | 30-something (current player, OTA)

[xiaoxiuya]

[ooc: I wrote this for our lovely Wei Wuxian, but anyone else who wants to meet SQQ is free to jump in! <3]

Even after living on Marrow Island for nearly two years, Shen Qingqiu cuts an unusual figure. His one concession to local styles is in the material of his robes and accessories: linen and hemp, a pin of carved wood holding back his waist-length hair, and a simple ornament of white jade hanging from his belt and a silver sword strapped to his back. An exotic look by local standards, to be sure, but someone used to reading such signs would immediately clock him as a simple rogue cultivator, a humble sect of one just doing his best to get by in a dangerous world.

And yet, to someone who can not only read the signs, but possesses cultivated senses of their own, this just makes the sight of him even more remarkable. Since when do rogue cultivators have this much spiritual power? With such a strong golden core, he must surely be an immortal -- and yet he walks around in the open like any other person, exchanging greetings with townspeople and other off-worlders and examining the wares in the shop windows with what seems to be genuine interest. An immortal who haggles with shopkeepers and buys himself candy? Surely any cultivator, newly arrived, will feel compelled to investigate.

Not than Shen Qingqiu is thinking about any of this himself, of course. He's been the sole cultivator on Marrow Island for nearly two years, barring a few brief interludes that ended as suddenly as they began. Perhaps universes with cultivation are simply uncommon? Resigned to a certain degree of loneliness, he has resolved to live comfortably, in a manner that makes the most sense to him. Whether anyone else would agree with his standards...remains to be seen.

OH HELLO :D

[acrookedpath]

...Well, well, well! What have we here?

Honestly, if he were back home, Wei Wuxian might opt to keep his distance. He's earned his share of trouble from other cultivators, and he'd prefer to keep enjoying his day in peace, thank you. But it's fascinating. What is this man doing, behaving like just another one of the ordinary folk of the island? Is he really the only other cultivator to make his way to Marrow Isle?

The day anybody calls Wei Wuxian subtle is the day the world ends. So, with open curiosity and nothing in the way of stealth, he falls in step some paces behind the other cultivator, pretending to busy himself with examining the Winter Market stalls. He laughs loud and cheerily with the vendors, compliments their wares, explains that this humble one has just arrived to their lovely island, all while keeping one eye on the robed man.