December Mini-TDM - "The Dead of Winter"

[pumpkinhollow]

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette December Issue

[Mod Note: This is a Mini-TDM (previously just called an "Open" post) because we were technically due for a fresh bi-monthly TDM. However, due to the light-duty December schedule and the fact that a December-themed TDM that also works for January is kind of limiting, we're doing a single-month mini-TDM now with a new two-month TDM coming in January! This public post is open to both new and existing players/characters. Please mind the content warnings, and enjoy!]

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette

12/10/2023 | Mini-TDM - "The Dead of Winter"
Content Warnings: "Further Details" section has independent CW labels.

Pumpkin Hollow continues to welcome new residents!

HOLIDAY BAZAAR NOW OPEN FOR BUSINESS

By Yorick Aberdeen

MAIN STREET - Splendid news, Pumpkin Hollowites! In preparation for Givingstide, the annual Main Street Holiday Bazaar is now open from now until the end of the month in Downtown Hollow! With the failed-then-rescheduled Dance of Celestine debacle behind us, we could all use a bit of festive cheer as Marrow Isle enters its most difficult season. Come down to Town Hall for a simple game that comes with fantastic prizes, then enjoy an afternoon on the town! Enjoy the spectacle of festive decorations amid snowy streets, and find any number of finely crafted gifts to share with your loved ones this Givingstide.

Long-time residents, please remember that for the first time in a long while we have residents who have never experienced a Pumpkin Hollow Givingstide before. It is important that we show our best and most festive hospitality to newer residents, and comfort anyone who might be homesick during this time. Have a Blessed Givingstide, and may your lantern always be lit!

New Oven Installed; Pizza Feast Commences

By Cecil Gershwin Palmer

The oven in question.

NORTHWEST HOLLOW - Local blacksmith River LaCroix has built a free-standing pizza oven on the farm belonging to Arthur Morgan.

Pizza, first created by Francisco Pizarro in the early 1500s before his assassination by Gavrilo Princip, is a food celebrated for its flavor and the variety of possible topping combinations it has. It begins with a base of dough, traditionally made from wheat or wheat by-products. This is then topped with a sauce (tomato is traditional, though other varieties involve barbecue sauce or chocolate sauce) and a cheese that melts easily, along with any vegetables, fruit, meat or other vaguely edible ingredients one desires. Spicy sausages called pepperoni are very popular, as well as mushrooms, peppers and even chunks of pineapple. Anyone who tells you that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza is simply incorrect and should not be trusted.

In celebration of the new oven’s creation, free personal-sized pizzas will be cooked and shared with all residents of Pumpkin Hollow, funded by local reporter Cecil Gershwin Palmer. Arthur Morgan’s farm is easily reached by trolley, or on foot if you’re scared of trolleys. But it really is a long walk, so just ride with a friend if you’re scared, really, they won’t hurt you. At least, we don’t think they will. Then again, considering how riding the train went in November, you never know…

Regardless! Pizza, Arthur Morgan’s farm, free food, perhaps even drinks? We look forward to seeing you there.

FESTIVE FIEND SIGHTED ACROSS MARROW ISLE

By Yorick Aberdeen

The jingling menace.

ISLAND-WIDE - Reports of a mysterious horned creature sporting strangely seasonally appropriate attire have come in from all over the island over the past week. Witnesses say that this apparently demonic holiday entity somewhat resembles our local Pine Devil, but has curled ram horns instead of antlers and is wingless. He is also apparently capable of speech, as victims claim to have heard him speaking about “wicked deeds” and “naughty behavior” and repeating a gibberish word occasionally--- “Christmas.” The reports detail multiple instances of harassment as well as public acts of violence that are definitely not comical in any way. It is absolutely in no way hilarious to see someone get smacked with a stick in broad daylight by an evil satyr wearing Givingstide getup and jingling festively, and this matter is extremely serious.

Despite resisting arrest and avoiding being detained by the constabulary on numerous occasions, the demon was strangely available for comment. He has identified himself as Krampus the “Christmas” Devil and had this to say of his crimes: “It’s my proud duty and a longstanding tradition that I punish the naughty and wicked every holiday season. It’s practically a civil service, if you ask me. Maybe if you didn’t want to be attacked, you might stop being such a troublemaker and be a blessing to your neighbor for a bit. Or don’t. More fun for me that way.” He then proceeded to take a large fistful of candies from the bowl on Miss Leeds' desk and disappeared in a puff of snow, leaving the carpet wet.

Anyone with any further information about this Krampus creature should reach out to the constabulary with tips. Any noteworthy reports are appreciated!

MOURNER’S NIGHT PROCESSION INFORMATION

By Yorick Aberdeen

The town's lone hearse, prepared for duty after annual maintenance.

FALL'S PROMISE CEMETERY - While it is always easy to get swept up in the jolly festivities of Givingstide, it is important that we also remember to pay homage to the spirits of those we have lost and the goddess who guides them, and whose protection we seek in this most difficult time of the year. Each winter, when the world is at its darkest and its coldest, we take to the streets and process to Fall’s Promise in the tradition of our age old funeral practices. Mayor Poe will have the honor of leading us this year.

To participate, join us in the streets at 6:00pm. Dress warmly, as it has been snowing quite a bit this past week and will not have melted. The procession will begin promptly once everyone has their candles lit, so please be timely and even early if you are able.

Please inquire at the Temple of Sacred Roots if you have any questions regarding Mourner’s Night.

Page 1

code

Further Details...

Holiday Bazaar

Main Street is beautifully decorated, each lamp post strung together with pine garlands and cranberry strings. The frigid air preserves them perfectly and coats them all in a light frost. Windows of shops glow warmly with festive decorations. Images of horses, either alone or drawing carriages or sleighs, can be seen everywhere. Advertisements for sales and specials dot the street corners and the air is full of delicious smells--- coffee, chocolate, sugar, fruit, roasted meat. Booths are also placed along the streets near Town Hall, and merchants hawk their wares. Artisan crafts and jarred preserves, decorations and novelties, all manner of thoughtful gifts. Givingstide approaches, they declare!

What is Givingstide, you ask? Why, any local will gladly tell you! It’s the festival of midwinter, anticipating the return of spring. Warmer weather, longer days, fresh food, all drawing ever nearer as Winter reaches its peak. Gifts are exchanged to share blessings with loved ones, appreciate them for all they’ve done for you this past year and wish them prosperity in the next one. Perhaps similar holidays are familiar to you.
kr
The holiday bazaar is the perfect place to buy a gift for Givingstide. It’s also a magical place for a walk with friends, or even a date. So many beautiful items for sale! And booths selling warm drinks and sweet treats! There are even carriage drivers offering rides up and down the street to take in the scenery, their steeds and vehicles garnished with silver bells and cedar boughs.

Also, right outside of Town Hall, there is a booth that is selling nothing. In fact, it is offering something for free--- a voucher that can be used to make purchases here! While it can only be used to make purchases from the holiday bazaar and expires after Givingstide, vouchers can be good for up to a whopping 500 Brass. All one needs to do to acquire it is win a trivia game! Ten questions, 50 Brass for each right answer. Perhaps you can earn yourself a bit of extra pocket change?

You'll Catch Your Death of Cold
[CW: manipulative language, hypothermia, starvation.]

There’s always something wrong with Lockwood Forest. From the Pine Devil to Brutoks, some manner of strange nonsense is always going on, and it is almost always dangerous. Less so when the cheerful spectral pocket monsters were here, but now that they’ve moved on and a blanket of snow has coated the leafy ground, the eerie quiet here has returned. Not only that, but the trails are covered. This isn’t a huge issue in areas of the forest with more traffic as there are plenty of footprints to follow, but deeper in, the forest becomes a maze.

Despite the danger, you’ve decided to go in. There are any number of reasons why you’ve done this: needing to hunt or forage to sustain your food supplies through the winter, searching for firewood in places that aren’t already picked over, seeking a quiet moment alone. Perhaps you simply got lost. These things happen, especially if you’re new to the island. No one will judge you, probably! Hopefully you at least didn’t come alone.

Regardless, the trails are covered. It’s hard to tell which gaps between trees are part of the path or just formed naturally. Animal footprints sprawl out in all directions like a spider’s web, which only serves to make things more confusing. Soon you begin to feel turned around somehow. Is it just you, or have the past five trees you walked by looked really similar? Haven’t you seen this holly bush before? You could swear you’ve been this way three times already… Oh dear. It’s so hard to tell. Even if you’re otherwise good at navigating the woods, something about this expanse of white snow and imposing pine trees is throwing you off. Almost as if there is some kind of magic at work here…

You wander the forest for a long time. For a while, your cold tolerance had peaked at that point where you’d been out long enough that you were used to it but not so long that it was starting to wear you down, but that peak is waning quickly. It’s freezing, and you’ve been out in it for a long time now. It sinks into your bones, making you feel sluggish. The chill bites at your face and the wind stings your eyes. Unless you have a traveling companion who is lost with you, there’s a strong chance you haven’t seen another person in… How long has it been? Hours? Days? Surely it can’t have been days. It certainly feels like days. Everything hurts and you are very hungry.

”You look so tired.” You have no idea where the voice comes from, but it’s clearly not just in your head. The echo through the trees causes a startled bird to fly off nearby. Maybe it’s just the haze that’s come over you from the shivering chill and deep exhaustion you feel that is making you so disoriented by the sound of the voice. All you know is that it is close, and it is beautiful and sweet. ”It must have been exhausting, walking all this way. Did you come to see me, or for something else?” You don’t remember the answer.

”Here, follow me. I’ll take you to safety.”

The sound of the voice guides you to a clearing in the forest, and it is the most beautiful clearing you have ever seen. Everything is covered in thick, plush pillows of fluffy white snow that look like billowing clouds and the silvery moonlight causes the icicles in the trees to sparkle and shine. (When did it become night time?) The sky is a deep plummy purple and above you there is a veritable explosion of stars like you’ve never seen before. You feel like you could fall in, dwarfed by the slice of night sky that peeks in through the trees. (The stars, are they closer than usual?)

”Come, lie down. Rest your weary bones. The snow here is softer than any bed.” Looking at those mounds of pristine, untouched snow, you begin to feel like whoever this is might be right. And you are so tired. ”You are safe here. You are loved. The world is beautiful and peaceful here. No more monsters, no more pain. Just rest in the arms of someone who loves you. Can’t you feel the warmth of my love?”

As the voice says this, you do notice that you start to feel warmer. Almost uncomfortably warm in your clothes, and you’re tempted to shed them. In the depths of your exhaustion, it is hard to tell if this is the warmth of a loving embrace or something else. But your shivering stops and you feel held. It’s so quiet here, so far away from the town of ghosts and monsters and people and work that you know.

”I promise you are safe here. I will take care of you. Just sleep now, my darling. I love you. Stay with me and you will want for nothing.”

The desire to lie down becomes nearly irresistible.

[ You are entering severe hypothermia. If you sleep here, you will die. If you came here alone, there is a chance someone else could find and rescue you. If you came with a traveling companion, you may be able to overcome the trance and the chill together. Or, if you like, you could write about the aftermath of dying. See our Death page for details! ]

Krampusnacht
[CW: Harassment (tone of comic mischief) ]

Have you been naughty or nice this year? In Pumpkin Hollow, there are no such tales--- but you and your extradimensional neighbors are hardly the first things here to be snatched from other worlds. And there is no better reminder than the mysterious horned figure that has been lurking about town.

If perhaps you’ve been up to some mischief this year, you may begin to see him out of the corner of your eye as the snows of December begin to fall. Did you hurt someone’s feelings? Take the last muffin without asking? Commit unspeakable evils in your former life? Sounds like you’re due for a visit from Krampus!

It all starts with a lump of coal, left out in the open in a place it should not be. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you’ll spot a horned and furry figure (that is decidedly not the Pine Devil) in the distance wielding a bundle of bound sticks in one hand and a sack in the other, wearing a wicked grin. Incongruous with his ghastly, beast-like appearance, he sometimes wears a red cloak lined with white fur or golden jingle bells on red ribbons tied to his ankle. He’ll disappear behind a snow drift and you will think your mind is playing tricks on you.

Next, you’ll begin to find your personal items missing. Wherever you left them, they’ll just be gone, and in their place will be a candy cane. In case you were worried that it might be a nice little treat, fear not! It tastes utterly foul.

The final stage is more direct visits from the Christmas Devil. He will ambush you at any time of day to attack you with sticks regardless of how public the location is, that way everyone can know what a troublemaker you are! He will also occasionally stuff you into his sack and abandon you at random locations, typically unpleasant ones. He cannot be killed--- indeed, he cannot even be struck, dodging quickly or disappearing and reappearing in puffs of snow every time you try and cackling all the while. So how do you get rid of him?

That’s easy! Just get yourself onto the Nice List by any means necessary. Time to start doing some good deeds around town and hope you aren’t subject to any more attacks in the meantime. If you do a good enough job, you may even get your missing items back! Gruß vom Krampus!

Mourner’s Night
[CW: grief and past death in the context of the holiday season]

As the early dark of high winter begins to fall, people begin to gather on the streets. A somewhat odd sight, but this isn’t the first time that people have come together under lantern light for an event that is in defiance of the danger posed by darkness. They are bundled tightly, wearing mostly black if it is available in clothes warm enough, and many people have donned veils which cover their faces with black lace.

From the streets, there is an informal procession. At intervals, there are men in uniform black military peacoats and black caps carrying tall poles with bright lanterns on top, swaying in the frigid air. Their faces are painted to look like skulls. Yorick is among them. Despite the difference in gender, River is invited to take up this role, implying something about what these lantern-bearers are meant to symbolize. The rest of the townsfolk are asked to follow along as they please, each bearing a long white candle stuck into a paper cup meant to catch its wax. The candles are in no danger of blowing out— the wind is eerily still.

The procession is largely silent. The people who do speak do so only in whispers. It winds through the streets of the town, converging on one of the main roads. Once it is clear of buildings, the front of the solemn parade becomes visible. A black funeral carriage, like one that may have once conveyed caskets, bearing lanterns at each corner. The two black horses are marked with skeletons using white chalk on their fur, and it is driven by a woman in garb representative of deepest mourning. This is Hellen Poe, playing the role of Mortanne.

It has been a long time, what feels like ages, since the people of this town have had a funeral procession outside the context of Mourner's Night. But they remember well their traditions and follow them with reverence. This, for you outsiders, is a unique glimpse at something you might not otherwise see due to the effects of the barrier. Each and every person in town follows the trail left by carriage wheels in the fresh snow and arrives at Fall's Promise Cemetery.

Beyond the wrought iron gate, there is more silence. Locals gather around the graves of their friends and loved ones, saying silent prayers and spending time in contemplative remembrance. You see Dahlia stand outside the central mausoleum, looking grimly up at her own name carved into the stone.

LEEDS

Degas has made his way over to a grave. He is here as himself, not as a reverend, and he does not leave the side of the headstone he gravitated toward. Melly Clayton.

Meanwhile, Dr. West is loitering at the back near a gargoyle. For once even he is present. And far off in the shadows, a small figure looms outside the fringes of lantern light, looking off into the sea. Silvery hairs catch the light occasionally. Elsie.

The candlelight vigil remains silent for a long time as people recall and honor their loved ones. Any sound of shuffling or movement is dampened further by soft, fluffy snow, creating a deep and heavy hush that is almost loud in its soundlessness. Perhaps, deep in the Season of Spirits, the presence of the fallen can be felt in the quiet dark.

Your mind drifts as the somber reverence beckons your mind to your memories. Who do you honor? A lost lover, a passed parent, someone you left behind in your life before?

Or perhaps you honor yourself. You did die to get here, after all. And it’s probable that you aren’t the only one to think so.

In the distance, the bell tower chimes. Then, rising up from the snow, soft at first and then louder, a song. The locals are beginning to sing a hymn about Mortanne sharing carriage rides with passengers, reminiscing about their lives as her carriage drives them to the afterlife. Did you learn it from a local before the festival? Do you sing, hum, or remain silent?

As the song finally comes to a close, all at once the locals blow out their candles, leaving the graveyard in darkness aside from the lantern poles. The silence now broken, people shuffle along, meeting up to mingle and hug or heading home for an early night. Some of them are crying.

Additional Note:
If you have any form of ESP, you notice something while attending Mourner’s Night. This includes people who have a special connection with spirits or death, or any sort of true sight that allows them to see things others cannot.

Toward the end of the hymn, a person you hadn’t seen before catches your eye. She is a young woman, with long black hair and a tattered white gown. Her eyes are sunken and her skin is marred with contusions and scars. She looks very, very tired. She is sitting on the boarded-up well that is on the far end of the cemetery. Even in the orange glow of candlelight, you can tell she is quite pale.

Across the graveyard, her eyes meet yours. Then the song ends, the candlelight dies, and she seems to blink out of existence.

Comments

QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/CONCERNS

[pumpkinhollow]

Here's where they go if ya got 'em!

Catch your death of cold

[lordoftheozarks]

If someone like Erik lies down in the cold prompt will he still die even if, generally, he cannot freeze to death? Is it different if it's magic cold?

Cecil Gershwin Palmer | Welcome to Night Vale | Existing Player

[lasthumanvoice]

1. In Each Age [The Bazaar]
Getting the idea past city hall was easy. He didn't bother to explain the religious or cultural significance, he just wrote down the recipes for latkes and sufganiyot for Yorick and asked if he thought Hellen might approve him sharing these gifts with the city at the bazaar. He did, she did, and here he is now.

In a corner of the bazaar, a tent with lanterns hung in each corner, with a ramshackle little frying station courtesy of the Oak and Iron. Here, a man stands carefully making potato pancakes and little fried hole-less doughnuts that he tosses in sugar and fills with fruit jelly before handing them off to customers still a hair too warm to bite into, wrapped in waxed paper.

It's alright if no one else recognizes the cultural significance, he's still spreading the joy of fried foods and oily miracles.


2. A Hero or Sage [The Pizza Oven]
There's a little more frenetic energy when it comes to Cecil and pizza. A little more mess, too, a streak of tomato sauce smudged along his cheek and some flour in his hair. He's finally gotten the hang of working the oven, but the pies he pulls out to pass pieces around are...peculiar. Toppings like dried peaches or slivers of pumpkin or walnuts take their place beside the usual cured meats and sausages. Someone doesn't care about things like "standard toppings".

"Here, this one has pickled onions and olives on it! You might like it!"

Do you dare to take a bite?


3. Came to Our Aid [Wildcard]
Find me at darkerstolstice on plurk or discord to plot

In Each Age

[skeletonkeay]

Gerry has been walking around for a while in his fancy new cape, feeling quite roguish as the wind blows it back. Of course he's not only here to show off the cloak, he's looking for ways to spend his voucher on holiday gifts. It isn't something he has a ton of experience with. Mary Keay wasn't exactly the Christmas sort and neither was Gertrude Robinson. So this year is... special. Even if it's not the same holiday.

As he's exploring, though, he notices an absolutely incredible smell of fried potatoes and sweet dough, and following his nose leads him to none other than Cecil.

Oh yeah, sufganiyot and latkes. Hanukkah food. Cecil is the first person he's known who celebrates, but Gerry's been around the block enough times to know the important stuff. The story, the candles, how it works, and what's on the menu.

He comes up to the tent. "Smells good over here," he remarks. "You need a hand?"

A Hero or Sage

[batteryacid]

"Pickled onions? Weren't satisfied with regular onions?" Eddie asks, with a small smile.

Although... it does put him in mind of Angel, so Eddie takes that slice to share. As well as picking up one that only has sausage, just to be safe.

In Each Age

[corpseroutes]

At least one other person notices the cultural significance. Taking his time to look at each stall, for all he has rolled with most of the strangeness without any kind of hesitation, it's Cecil's that gives Oliver's pause. An unexpected familiarity.

"-Jewish food?"

A Hero Or Sage (CW: very mildy disordered eating habits)

[theydrewfirstblood]

John heard about the pizza oven, and couldn't resist coming by to take a look. He can't help it, he's kind of hungry and everything smells great.

He's sort of...hovering, just eyeballing the oven and people watching when a redhaired young man enthusiastically offers him a slice of pizza with enthusiastically questionable toppings in a voice so deep and smooth that, for an instant, he is reminded painfully of Delmar.

And, of course, the very idea of taking it makes his stomach knot up with ice cold fear.

"That's okay." John assures the young man with a wan smile, shaking his head. "Just...hanging out."

He can't resist a deep breath, though...and he has to admit? It doesn't smell actually bad.

"Smells interesting, though."

Oliver Banks | The Magnus Archives | New!

[corpseroutes]

1. Arrival
While it had been a kindness offering Oliver the possibility that he might yet return to life he had insisted that was unlikely to be a possibility but thanked the woman for her consideration none the less. He was used to being on the other side of this conversation or something similar and knew it well. Not exactly of course, he was no reaper of souls, but he still had to deliver the bad news from time to time. Like someone who worked in a terrible customer service job being kind to other service workers when they're on the customer side, he was pleasant and agreeable to Yorick as well as Mayor Poe ("Hellen? What a lovely name.") Of course he would be happy to stay and help Pumpkin Hollow however he could.

"I have nowhere else to be," Oliver said regarding that, a pleasant smile on his face.

The irony that none of his past job experience translated to what the town needed was not lost on him. Still, fulfillment could be found in the strangest places. He had a willingness to work but wanted some time to explore the town and see how best his talents could be used to assist rather than possibly diving right in to exactly the wrong thing. Taking the map he was given he found his way to the tavern first since it seemed the most important location he decided to explore the town on foot for a few hours to see what he could see.


2. Bazaar
Who wouldn't be drawn to sights and sounds of a bazaar? Especially a holiday one! Oliver didn't try to keep the smile off his face as he took his time to look at each stand, giving everything care and attention like it was the most precious thing. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been to something like this. Back in London, obviously. With Graham, he suddenly remembered. Before everything went to shit. It was sobering to be here alone, after a whole new life. But he had somehow persisted. He wasn't wasting whatever time he had.

Eyeing the booth outside of town hall for free vouchers for a trivia game… he reads the rules meticulously, but he was also the type to read fairytales in his life before, so he asks with some amusement to the closest person- "Do you think there's a punishment involved for getting questions wrong?"


3. Mourner’s Night (cw death and stuff)
Oliver hadn't had time to learn the song they were singing, but he still followed the procession along, fascinated by the whole thing. Someone else might have felt a little self-conscious about how stereotypical this was, Death Avatar (former Death Avatar?) following a mourning procession like this. Oliver had long decided it was instead more cringe to ignore your nature.

The reverence that comes to mind, the thing to mourn was death itself. Something fearful but so necessary. Oliver had faithfully done the work of Terminus - it had terrified him once, long ago. Now he understood the importance of it. He didn't revel in it, but accepted it as something inherently required. What was to be done, when your job was made obsolete? Ironic that it hadn't been his office job that had him dealing with that.

He remains silent through the beginning of the song, standing at the fringes, humming along when when he understands the tune of it only to drop off when he catches the eye of another person set apart from the group. She looks dead, at the edge of the well. Oliver is quite familiar with dead. When she blinks out of existence, he doesn't hesitate to go investigate or to hide that's what he's doing.


4. Other
(Idk hit me up with something and I'll roll with it. Oliver is a pleasant and friendly sort. I'm vaultedthewall on discord and Oncemorewithfeeling on plurk!)

Arrival

[worstorganplayer]

"You don't, eh?" Snakes grunts as he passes by and hears the comment. "Well, maybe that makes it easier for you then."

Not that he would have had anything good waiting for him had he lived on in his world.

Angel - OC - Existing Player

[graveling]

1. And I believed in Father Christmas [Givingstide Bazaar]
Angel has never had people to buy presents for. Luckily, he did well on the quiz, and so he has the money to buy things. But he seems a little overwhelmed by the options at the Bazaar. Find him feeling the fabric of a cloak or eyeing a small wooden horse figurine, or perhaps stopping at the mulled wine tent for a warm drink.


2. And I looked to the sky with excited eyes [Fun in the Snow]
December brings a blanket of snow to Pumpkin Hollow, and despite the fact that he's not wearing a coat, Angel is out in it, having a grand old time in the Festival Green. Perhaps you get hit by a playful snowball, or perhaps you come across his snow fort, where he's curled up comfortably for some people-watching.


3. Then I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn [Mourner's Night]
Angel is among the procession, with his candle and with a folded piece of paper in hand. Silent, stone-faced, he seems to be taking the ceremonial aspect of all this very, very seriously. Once at the cemetery, he uses the flame from his candle to carefully burn the paper to ash, before he...

Well, he lies down right on the ground, quiet and still, staring up at the sky. Looks like a corpse and for once he's acting like a corpse, his thoughts less stormy than usual.

If not interrupted (and feel free to interrupt, of course!), he only sits up once the belltower rings and the singing begins, his eyes catching on the pale, bruised woman sitting on the well with a bit of a frown.


4. And I saw him and through his disguise [Wildcard]
Find me at darkersolstice wherever social media is sold to plot

2

[batteryacid]

Snowball fight? Oh, it's on!

Eddie finishes the last bit of his hot cider, ditches the cup in the bin, and then ducks down to scoop up a double handful of snow before chasing Angel down.

"Ha!" Eddie throws the hastily packed snowball, then cheers when it breaks apart on Angel's shoulder, "Revenge!"

Chris Freeman [DC Comics] || Existing Player

[thelatechrisfreeman]

But it's alright, it's okay - I got the time but the time don't pay [Holiday Bazaar]
Chris makes their first stop at the trivia booth (they aren't exactly rolling in brass after two months as a laggard, even if they've got a month of actual employment under their belt) and gets quite a few vouchers for use at the bazaar. They're eyeing cloaks for their robotic friends, and other gifts for other friends.

Speaking of robotic friends, Chris is going to meet First Aid after the stop at the trivia booth. But they'll be glad to say hello to any friend who sees them!

I've got the wit that my enemies lack - But I know what I am, they know what they are [Krampusnacht]
Chris is mildly confused by the lump of coal left out on their porch railing. But they bring it inside and place it on their fireplace mantle. (It's not possible to burn coal in a fireplace or wood stove, since coal burns so much hotter than wood.) When they come back outside, they notice the furry, horned figure in the distance -- noting that it doesn't have antlers like the Pine Devil, Chris just raises a hand to wave at said figure.

When one of their favorite baskets vanishes in favor of a foul-tasting candy cane... Chris pauses after wrinkling their nose and lapses into a contemplative silence. And then makes a face again when they idly lick the yucky candy again. It gets propped up against the lump of coal on the mantle.

The next day, Chris delicately inquires if the people who take some of their baked goods at the clinic need more help regarding food. And they also visit Vika to ask how she's settling in with her own job, and to help with winding her key should she need it. (Bringing some powdered graphite if the key still sticks this time.)

If Krampus shows up for the final stage (whacking with sticks and stuffing in a sack), he will be offered a cup of hot cocoa. And you may be treated to the sight of Chris and Krampus sitting on the wrap-around porch of Chris's home, debating on the classifications of Naughty versus Nice.

"Listen, go right ahead and smack me if I still deserve it, I just want to understand what criteria you're using to decide that."

Cut teeth, bet a belief - I've got a feeling that I'm underneath [Mourners' Night]
Chris seats themself beside a grave that no one else is visiting, legs crossed tailor style, and murmurs a soft prayer,
"Out of the depths I have cried unto Thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice.
Let Thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplication..."

They are unfamiliar with the hymn to Mortanne, but hum along softly once they catch the melody. They don't falter, even when catching the eye of the strange woman seated on the well. But Chris's eyes glow red once they make eye contact. When she vanishes in the darkness, Chris approaches that boarded up well, eyes still aglow. They run a hand along the edge of the well, then look up.

At you, perhaps?

Mourner's Night

[graveling]

Chris looks up at Angel, and something inside him has shifted slightly, as if his soul is now just a bit more well-seated within his body. Still not perfect alignment, but something's changed in the aftermath of this night of mourning.

But also, Angel saw the lady as well, and didn't recognize her either.

"Think her corpse might be lost in the well or something?"

Eddie Kaspbrak 🎈 IT (miniseries) 🎈 Exisiting Player

[batteryacid]

Holiday Bazaar
Eddie is munching on some street food when you first see him. He's mostly 'window-shopping' at the moment, the vouchers (450 brass) tucked into a pocket of his jacket. He might be making mental notes of what items catch the attention of his friends while they browse.

You'll Catch Your Death of Cold...
Eddie isn't the sort to go wandering in the forest without a good reason. However, he has a good sense of direction... and at times, has been able to seek out and find lost things despite having nothing but a feeling to go on.

If you have been taken in by the spirit, it's possible that Eddie may be able to find you.
[[ OOC: I can take the spirit's dialogue if you want; feel free to set the stage with as much detail as you like either way. ]]

Wildcard
Up for anything.

Holiday Bazaar

[corpseroutes]

It's a new face that calls out to Eddie, the both of them browsing the same booth.

"That certainly smells good- where did you get that?" Oliver asks, about the food Eddie is munching on, curious. He had not needed to eat for some time, getting 'back into it' so to speak was a novel concept.

Abner Krill | Suicide Squad (2021) | New Character

[okaypolka]

Ⓐⓡⓡⓘⓥⓐⓛ
"I'm a superhero!" An overjoyed glance at DuBois. A grin too big for his normally sullen face. A moment of triumph. A lifetime of pain, finally culminating in self-actualization. "I'm a motherfucking super---"

And then, in an instant, snatched away as he is crushed underfoot by a space monster. Yeah, that seems about right. God forbid he have friends or happiness or success.

The lady in the office is surprisingly nice, which is a relief, though Abner does get sick on the boat. How did he even get a lunch to lose? Weird. But just his luck, it seems. The good news is that he's told up front that where he's going, the dots will form at a fraction of the speed they once did. A blessing and a curse, since there's no longer such a risk of danger, harming others, or general discomfort. But also that's Abner's main form of self defense. Not that he realizes how much he might need it.

The rest is kind of a blur, honestly. Yorick, Mayor Poe, the inn. After the day he'd already been having before getting here, his mind was utterly overloaded. By the end of it, he just flops into bed face down and is snoring before he even touches the sheets.

The next day, he kind of has no idea what to do with himself. He'd been in prison for a number of years, then on a mission with Task Force X, and now he's just turned loose with absolutely no structure or restriction.

Well, might as well start with a cup of coffee in the tavern.

Ⓗⓞⓛⓘⓓⓐⓨ Ⓑⓐⓩⓐⓐⓡ
After breakfast, Abner hits the streets. It's... Christmas? No, not Christmas. Some other thing. It's apparently more nature-y and there's horses involved. There's talk of gifts. He wishes he could get some for Robert and Cleo and Nanaue. It's probably for the best they aren't here, given the implication of that. If they aren't here, that means they beat Starro, right? But if that were guaranteed, wouldn't Flag be here? Or Milton? No, don't think like that. They definitely won. They had to win.

Anyway.

Abner spends his small allowance on a plaid wool peacoat and meanders the bazaar, taking in the sights. He seems kind of in a daze, drifting along with crowds and staring absently into shop windows.

Ⓚⓡⓐⓜⓟⓤⓢⓝⓐⓒⓗⓣ
A few days later, there is pandemonium in the Oak & Iron. A surprised yelp, jingling bells, and a flurry of technicolored dots. As soon as the ram-horned attacker arrived, he is gone, leaving Abner to deal with the fact that his goddamn dots have burned holes in the tavern wall.

The dots are part of an interdimensional virus and are, put simply, little discs of light and heat from space. They are significantly dampened in their efficacy here, having once been able to basically melt through people and solid objects with little prejudice. Now they've been reduced to roughly the heat of a branding iron, which is evidently still enough to torch at least a few holes into drywall.

"...I can... I can pay for that."

He cannot pay for that.

Abner spends the rest of the day working off the damages by bussing tables. Fantastic.

ⓌⒾⓁⒹⒸⒶⓇⒹ
[ Feel free to just throw whatever at me, I'll make it work! ]

Holiday Bazaar

[theydrewfirstblood]

“You okay?”

John saw the guy wandering around with an expression that causes him physical pain. He’s worn that look himself, been that disconnected.

Poor guy looks like he’s been through hell. It’s all in his eyes.

So when Abner turns to face the speaker, he’ll find a John Rambo with a gentle, knowing smile and a bag in his hand from some earlier shopping.

“It’s okay if you’re not. Whatever shitstorm you came from, it’s not here. You can take a breath, y’know?”

Degas Clayton | NPC

[preacher_in_reticence]

1. Ring the bells that still can ring [Givingstide Bazaar]
Given his druthers, Degas might have stayed indoors and missed the chaos of the bazaar. But this is duty too, to walk among the people and bring some semblance of a smile for those who are here.

He stops by the tent run by the Artisan's Guild, speaking with Saraya Meridell about her wool and Regina's knitting. He stops by the food tents, quietly buying a sufganiyah or three for some of the children who are fascinated by the off-world treat. He stops at a stall selling hand-carved wooden figurines, his fingers brushing over a small carriage, painted black.

And he stops when he sees yet another of the newcomers he hasn't met yet, startling slightly before putting on a warm expression. He is, after all, meant to be welcoming. That's something preachers are for, something they can do, even without a priest.

"Good afternoon. Settling in, I take it?"


2. Forget your perfect offering [Krampus-adjacent]
Anyone who comes to Degas complaining about Krampus will find him in a thoughtful mood. "Clearly, clearly if the intention is to ensure people are being nice rather than naughty, then there's only one thing for it: good deeds."

Degas has a list of people who may need a little kindness this time of year. Mothers who need babysitters, older neighbors who need snow shoveled, soup deliveries to those down with a winter cold. He'll come along to help accomplish these acts of loving kindness, because this isn't a punishment. It's a chance to spend time with someone and guide them toward a kinder path.


3. There is a crack, a crack in everything [Mourner's Night]
The belltower chimes the close of the night's proceedings and Degas reluctantly pulls himself away from Melly's grave, wiping wet eyes and turning his face away from those who might see his weakness. But on the meandering walk home, once he's no longer actively leaking, he might match pace with someone else who's alone, offer his spare handkerchief (not the one he's already snotted over) if they seem distressed.

"Mourning is not a punishment, you know. Sorrow isn't meant to harm. It's something we work through. The point of tonight is to live with our pain, rather than to stow it away for later. It's alright to embrace your sorrow, to hold it close and feel it fully."


4. That's how the light gets in [Wildcard]
Come visit the temple, set a meeting for lunch, throw a snowball at an old man or otherwise pester a preacher!

Forget Your Perfect Offering

[tisnotthehouse]

Tarantulas sticks close to Degas as the two of them set out, carrying the crate they're using to transport the soup in his arms and, it must be noted, glaring suspiciously at the rooftops and alleyways they walk by.

"Are you sure this will work?" he mutters to Degas, stress and the naturally husky pitch of his voice turning it into more of an annoyed hiss. "I'm hardly doing this for altruistic reasons, I must admit." And if that damned goat-thing is omniscient enough to know about crimes committed in a completely different universe, then it's probably enough of a telepath to know that already. Of course being seen doing good is its own reward, but right now he's mostly interested in putting a stop to the thefts and the random stick-attacks every time he sets foot outside.

Ianto Jones | Torchwood/Doctor Who | Existing Player

[needmetodoanyattacking]

Holiday Bazaar

Bollocks, he's grateful that he didn't come here with Dahlia.

Still, even doing miserably on the bloody pub trivia nonsense (Dahlia knelt in front of him to pick up that fallen pen this morning on purpose, that's the only reason he blanked on the question about bloody Yorick), he's got a voucher for two hundred brass, and the solitude needed to do a bit of shopping.

He might have painted himself into a corner with Dahlia's birthday gift--he's never going to top that--but he's got a few ideas for her. The difficult gifts to buy will be for friends like Nieve.

Something tells him buying her a diary will not go over well...

Pizza Oven

He tries the pizza first before tracking Dahlia down. No one has missed pizza more than him, and he wants her first experience to be a good one.

They do not disappoint--and while he goes looking for his lover/boss, anyone he runs into will earn immediate good will from the cheerful, if ever so slightly harried young man if you can point him towards the most powerful woman in town.

Mourner's Night

For the most part, he is here for Dahlia. He joins the procession, he doesn't know the hymn but lets its melody move through him, and he joins her in her own moments of remembrance. This isn't like the summer festival where they first truly connected, Dahlia and he. There are no lanterns, there are no graves for him to pay his respects to.

Even when he gets home--if he gets home--there will be no grave. Just a drawer down in the morgue filled with the body he had once loved so well, empty of the spirit that had forgiven him and, he liked to think, cared for him.

Still, if Dahlia needs to be alone in her mourning, there will be moments where Ianto is by himself, no winter coat, seemingly careless of the cold in a suit coat and not much else, gazing into the middle distance of memory.

And while he has no true sight, Ianto Jones has something few others do: prolonged exposure to a rift in time and space, among other things. So he doesn't see anything...

But he can't stop staring at that boarded up well, and he can't quite shake a feeling of icy dread knotting in his gut.

Wild Card

[[choose your own adventure! :P]]

Holiday Bazaar

[batteryacid]

"Hello, Mr. Jones. You're looking a bit lost," Eddie observes, as he walks up to Ianto. The man certainly looks like he's agonizing over the choices offered by the bazaar. "Got someone tough to shop for?"

jeff | original | new player/character

[cacophonish]

I. ARRIVAL
Jeff finds his way to the tavern, shivering, disoriented, moving like he's walking through a dream. This all certainly feels like a dream, after all, another waking nightmare like countless others, spanning months and months and months...

The woman with the white hair, the boat ride with the silent ferryman, the welcome from... from... what's her name. The mayor. He drifted through these moments only paying half-attention, the rest of his mind searching, reaching, scrambling for something left behind.

It's not here anymore. It's back... back home, or back wherever it came from, that unknowable plane of pure magic and indefiniteness. Everything's so quiet now. Even in this tavern, surrounded by people, his head's too quiet. It's quiet, and-- and he's so fucking lonely.

Jeff drinks, of course. He goes for what's strongest and cheapest, and he follows it up with another, downed as quickly as if it was water. Even with his tolerance for all things intoxicating, he's too skinny, too underfed to stay sober for long.

Good. He doesn't want to be sober. If he can't have noise, he'll drown out the silence in booze and reckless bullshit.

So if you're at the Oak & Iron when Jeff makes his debut, you may catch sight of him sneaking sips (or, you know, gulps) of drinks left unattended, finishing off dregs from empty glasses, flirting and sweet talking his way into more drinks.

He may even try to steal your drink, if you step away for a moment. Or he'll smile all sweet and playful and say, "Hey. Wanna be my welcome wagon for the night?"

....does that even make sense? Does he even fucking care? No and nope.

II. HOLIDAY BAZAAR
Jeff checks out the holiday bazaar. Of course he checks it out. And hopefully he doesn't stick out as an obvious newcomer now that he's got a cheap, secondhand coat to bundle up in.

The great thing about this coat is it's got, like, pockets. And it can cover up all kinds of trinkets, if he so happens to get his hands on any.

Look, he's new in town, he's broke, he's traumatized, he's reeling from existential crises, so doesn't he deserve a treat? Come on, be a pal and look the other way while he slips a pair of cozy knitted hand warmers into his pocket, or sneakily swipes a hat.

There's one vendor that he doesn't seem inclined to try and steal from, and he circles back to the booth several times over the day to check out some ornately carved music boxes. The craftsmanship, while gorgeous, doesn't seem to be what catches his interest. It's the music itself, and one tune, from one box in particular, seems to captivate him. He closes his eyes and listens with something like awe or reverence, even if he doesn't recognize the song, really.

If you're standing nearby, he'll eventually open his eyes and ask, his voice dreamy, "Do you know this song?"

III. KRAMPUSNACHT
There's a sack hanging from a lamp post. Or a tree. Or dumped unceremoniously by some trash cans.

The sack squirms. Something inside is clawing and kicking at the burlap, in a totally futile attempt at escape.

"Oh fucking-- come on, dude, let me out!"

HELP.

IV. WILDCARD
[ HIT ME WITH ANYTHING.

character tldr: Jeff's a messy, hedonistic rock 'n roll himbo bard from 1995 who's spent the past year being kind of sort of possessed(ish) by a demon. Kind of. It's Complicated. anyway hit me up at weeyotch or weeyotch at discord to plot or hash out ideas! ]

Krampusnacht

[graveling]

"What the--hang on, I'm going to get you down!" There's the sound of someone shuffling up the tree. Well, sort of. Like the sound of clothing and hands moving against the branches is there. But there's no breathing or grunts of exertion. Which is weird, but hey, someone's actually here to help!

John Rambo | FIRST BLOOD/RAMBO Movie Franchise | Existing Player

[theydrewfirstblood]

Holiday Bazaar

John has no idea what to do with his first paycheck and round of bonuses. Or the voucher from that trivia thing--he's kinda glad the library caught his eye, though. Everything else was just lucky guesses.

He does a little shopping with his winnings, picking up a couple things for friends--and has a moment where he may be caught off to one side somewhere quiet, alone, looking seemingly distressed.

He's not--it's a moment he has to pause and catch his breath because he realizes just how many people have somehow found their way into his life in his short time here. How much he cares for and appreciates every one of them...and he's a little choked up, but it's absolutely a good thing.

Otherwise, John can be found shopping in the bazaar. Mostly, on impulse, in what looks a lot like a white elephant booth picking out various bits and bobs to gift to a particular avian kleptomaniac.

Mourner's Night

It's strange, but John finds himself grateful for the somber memorial occasion. Everything's been so good lately, so festive...there's something safe about this reminder of death and loss. This ceremonial way to honor the fallen, regardless as to how they fell.

He takes part in the procession, and lingers in the cemetery. He looks for a grave with no visitors, inspects the stone, and reads the name aloud.

"Someone once told me true death comes the last time someone speaks your name--so don't worry. You'll stick around a little longer." He quietly assures the deceased, patting the headstone. "I, uh, hope you don't mind if I join you for a while? Just...there's someone back home I didn't get to say goodbye to, and I got no place to say goodbye here. Maybe if I keep you company for a while, you'll forgive if I take the chance to do that now?..."

John shifts to sit in front of the headstone, arm resting on one drawn up knee...and for the first time since he heard the news from his widow, lets himself grieve for the loss of a gentle giant of a man, a friend for the ages...a love he had to give up all hope of in order just to hold onto something good in Delmar Barry.

Wild Card

[[choose your own Rambo! :P]

Our Vikas | 20XX | Existing Player | A Common Good

[lastofthefirst]

Surgery [Closed-Ish Mingle-Ish; Vika, Chris, First Aid, Bart; First Aid's Garage Clinic]

Vika really doesn't want it to be time, but it's time. She's been provided a new arm and the materials to fix up her voicebox in lieu of a house after a long, long shouting match regarding "what in the absolute fuck am I going to do with a house", not that it's seemed to stop Bart from refurbishing a basement for her.

Fucking bizarre.

Her condition for this surgery is someone on hand with a gun while she's vulnerable. During the prep stage, she paces in the waiting room while First Aid is getting ready, clearly agitated and nervous; her gun keeps charging, then uncharging. She's nervous.

Of course, the surgery may be her chance to talk to First Aid...at least while her voicebox is still connected.

What's This (Nightcore Remix) [Bazaar]

You know what Vika's never really done? Shopping. At least, not with people operating the shops. The process seems fascinating to her; for someone who's normally so acidic, she listens to the sales pitches of merchants with the patient fascination of a four-year-old who's hearing Shark Facts (too specific an experience? Too bad). Every now and again she has a quiet and private-seeming conversation with one of the merchants, the effects of which are not immediately obvious except for when she burns fifty whole Brass out of her voucher with strict instructions that the "small mammals" be given access to candy until the Brass runs dry.

On subsequent days, you might find Vika smiling an odd, fond little smile when one of the kids gets their candy.

Making Christmas, Making Christmas...[Clinic & Bart's House]

Hey, Chris, First Aid, got some news for you. Someone levered open the clinic window and did not bother covering up that the clinic has been broken into even a little. Sorry about your window lock if it was shut, sucks to suck. Inside there have been some...additions.

First, folded atop Chris's desk is a finely-made labcoat with Freeman embroidered on it in fine black lettering; it's tough, it's stylish, it comes with washing instructions.

Second, there's a fluffy grey-and-black kitten and all the supplies to care for it roaming in the waiting room. There's a note in hexadecimal underneath a collar and bell that have been placed on a chair: 486572206e616d6520697320416e616c6f67

("Her name is Analog.")

Bart on the other hand comes home one evening to a clockwork frog on the dining room table with a note that depicts a hand pushing down on its eyes; if and when he does, the 'tongue' of the frog extrudes a butter tray. It's done up in green and blue, aquatic colors, in the hopes that he might like it.

'Cause I'm The Boogeyman...[Around Town]

I'ma level with you this prompt is getting written instead of getting done well: a few days into the festival Vika starts being accosted by Krampus and the sight is, well. The seasonal demon really is whacking her with those sticks, and Vika's just kinda going about her day with this happening. It's bothering bystanders and Vika's only comment is the occasional "bruh" when he knocks something out of her new hand.

Here Lies Poor Old Jack [Mourner's Night]

Vika is, thanks to being fixed, oddly quiet and respectful during the procession. She makes no comment on the way there, and speaks to no one. When people break away at the cemetery, she drifts away towards the fences that surround it, eventually crouching in the snow.

Find her here, inscribing, over and over again, little chibi copies of her own face; each has a serial number written under it.

Wildcard

Come at me.

Surgery - Prep Stage

[thelatechrisfreeman]

It hadn't taken much to borrow a gun from Dahlia Leeds -- Chris doesn't have one of their own just yet, and they know Dahlia has plenty of them on display in Leeds Manor.

(She hadn't asked for details, just asked what kind Chris needed. Her assistant Ianto -- who seemed ever-present at her side -- observed, "I've just had the good shotguns cleaned, Miss Leeds, shall I fetch one for Dr. Freeman?" Chris held their tongue on correcting the title, and had come back from their errand with a shotgun in hand.)

They practiced with it to get the proper feel for the weapon, and now they sit in the waiting room checking it over, and watching Vika pace.

"I find that breathing slowly, or otherwise making myself aware of my body processes, can be an effective way to keep calm," they comment, around the third time that Vika's gun charges up and powers down.

Dr. Elias Coldwood | NPC

[arcanegrasp]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 [Arrival - in a sense!]

A cold wind cuts through the aging lighthouse perched over Jack's Marina, and as it does, an aged tome is shut by worn hands. Ink had finally dried, and with that, a look of content rises to the face of its author.

It had been some months now that one Dr. Elias Coldwood had been hidden away with his studies, but the progress was undeniable. No discovery too small, and each one deserved its due time to be understood.

No more time to spare today, however, now that the rations have once again run dry.

The next critter (namely, a remarkably fat beetle, chittering and crawling in a terrarium) will simply have to wait. Its time to face the undying town again!

With a dense peacoat tugged on, the lighthouse steps are descended, and a heavy bolt undone. Cold wind rushes into the building for the few fleeting seconds between him opening and closing it, and he hurries down the slope, joining the main streets with a familiar rhythm.

There's something that comes to throw this rhythm off, though. This is something that, even in his furthest reaches, he couldn't have anticipated running into.

New faces.

Since when were there new faces in Pumpkin Hollow?

For several fleeting minutes, all Elias can do was gawk at them, bustling about not unlike locals. It takes a force of will for him to finally push himself to move from where he'd been frozen in his boots, and his first act is to hurriedly flag down one of these new faces, looking equal parts baffled and thrilled.

Could this mean, the Barrier...?

"You there! Might I trouble you for just a moment of your time for a question or two?"


𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Dr. Coldwood is not a particularly religious man, but that's never stopped him from attending the Mourner's procession every year the time came.

His usually bright demeanor is decidedly sullen, and the weight bearing on his heart is evident on his face. He dares not break the silence, but to follow along dutifully. And--- once the procession disperses to their own graves, he finds one, a smooth, stone facing, bearing an anchor and elegantly-inscribed text.

⚓︎
𝔹𝕃𝔼𝕊𝕊𝕀ℕ𝔾𝕊 𝔸ℕ𝔻 ℙ𝔼𝔸ℂ𝔼
𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕩 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕙,
𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕟, 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕜
𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕝𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤' 𝕎𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕟,
𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟝𝕥𝕙, 𝟙𝟞𝟚𝟙.

𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕟 𝕎𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖
𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕡 "𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕖" 𝕄𝕒𝕩𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕤
ℍ𝕖𝕕𝕨𝕚𝕘 𝔻𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕪𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖
𝕆𝕤𝕘𝕒𝕣 "𝕆𝕫" 𝔾𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕨𝕪𝕟
𝔾𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕝𝕪𝕟𝕟 𝔽𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕠𝕟
𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕕

𝕄𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕤 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕤𝕝𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣,
𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕂𝕠𝕣𝕒 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖.

Once he lights a small assortment of tea candles, seven in total, he stands. He wavers in such a way that it looks as though he might be keen to depart, but guilt won't allow him to.

Perhaps he could use a kind word from someone who's faced a similar loss - or, maybe he could lend a hand to someone who's looking to put an end to their quiet mourning for the night, as well.


𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞!

Its very clear that, of all the holidays of the year, Givingstide is Dr. Coldwood's favorite.

He carries himself through the hustle and bustle of the streets with a grand energy to his step. Between the winter activities, the fantastic food, and the air of lightness in wake of the usual dread that lingers, its hard not to find himself wrapped up in the swing of things.

Should anyone need a hand, be it with some fallen objects, something that requires a team-lift, or looking as though they need a recommendation, Elias will gladly chime in. After all, what better opportunity to meet all these new neighbors he seems to have wound up with, and what better occasion for it?

Frost's Beckoning

[theresalwaystheview]

Among those new faces, a bright-eyed young man with pale skin and a lovely, dual-patterned winter coat is standing in someone's doorway, chatting with them animatedly after a house call had brought him down onto the main drag. He smiles back at the older woman and has her hands clasped around his, nodding along as she bids him farewell in the thoroughly Midwestern fashion that means he's been there with one foot off the porch for a good few minutes.

When she finally releases him with a final insistence that he gets back inside and keeps warm, Bart is startled to hear someone else immediately calling for his attention. It's a voice that he doesn't recognize as someone he's met yet.

"Good afternoon," he calls back as he meets Elias in the middle, looking back at him with the sort of guileless wide eyes that comes with being taken off guard while still wanting to be hospitable. His hands grip around the strap of his slightly bulging bag, until one is offered in a polite shake. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Sam Porter Bridges | Death Stranding | Existing player, OTA

[300kgbackpack]

Holiday Bazaar
It's been a long damn time since Sam has been involved with anything resembling a holiday. The closest he might have come is when the people running his damned life would see fit to leave something for him in his private room at one of the distro centers, but even then, a cake and a Santa hat was hardly an adequate holiday by the standards that this place is setting. The decorations out of the local flora are a nice touch. Everything being dusted with snow that doesn't actually suck to walk through is nice, too.

Sam can be seen here and there among the festivities with a voucher for a certain amount of Brass' worth of festival offerings thanks to a few lucky guesses on the trivia questions, and so far he's gotten himself a nice, simple coat and new fingerless gloves, and a new blanket to wrap around his infant daughter, who's strapped to him in her sling with that stuffed rabbit that she constantly has with her now. A little hat is pulled over her head to keep warm.

He's got a pouch of roasted nuts that he's picking from as he wanders, finally taking a day off just to exist and try to actually do something with himself that isn't just work. You may spot him stopping at the occasional booth looking at...craft supplies? Things to use for homemade gifts, at least.

Catch Your Death
Sam lives out in these woods, more or less. He's almost learned them back to front. He knows the trails like he knows the marks on his body. He's never gotten lost like this before, and now, with an arm tucked around Lou's body, he walks slowly in the darkness with a lantern hooked to his belt, intended to help him keep his footing in the dark as he returns home from the festivities. It doesn't help as much as he would hope.

"God...damnit man," he mutters under his breath, turning to reach up and break a branch to mark his path so that he knows where he's passed. Can't un-break a stick, right?

The voice that drifts through the trees puts him right on edge. People don't speak to him sweetly like that unless they want something, or they know him well enough to know that such things weird him out and are getting a kick out of it. It makes its promises of warmth and love, and just for a moment, it sounds familiar. It sounds like a voice that he hasn't heard in more than a decade. It makes him angry enough that he turns his back on it entirely, because if this is the way that he hears Lucy's voice again, then he wants no part of it. But it hurts. It hurts so badly to walk away to find some other sign of life out here. He can't even appreciate how pretty it is out here anymore.

It's so cold, but he's fought through cold before. He knows better than to give in to the paradoxical hyperthermia that makes him feel like he's starting to burn up in his skin. It hurts, but he'd weather it. He has to. He has to keep his child safe. He shivers violently, and Lou begins to fuss audibly. It gives him something else to focus on. It gives him the strength to try and make his way back out again.

"C'mon kid, we're goin' home..."

Mourner's Night
Lou has been taken home and put to bed, warm and safe, tucked in with her rabbit after a warm bottle. It's only when he's sure that she's sound asleep that Sam joins the procession.

Sam hangs back a few steps behind the trailing end of the crowd, the lantern he'd secured to his belt shuttered enough to be as respectful as he can manage. He's silent, observant, and as soon as he can split off away from it all without being noticed, he does so.

He can be found in a quiet corner of the cemetery near an unmarked stone, sitting down on a nearby bench, watching the winking lights between the memorials. He mourns very quietly, turning over what he can remember of the people that he cared about that he had lost. He doesn't have the photo that he had once carried everywhere with him anymore or he might have been looking down at it at a loss for words. He doesn't cry for his loss. He hasn't in a very long time. But he still feels it acutely all the same.

If you know Sam, it would be logical to think that he's fallen asleep there on that bench by himself. He's just sitting in silent vigil over this faded stone, in a vaguely dissociative state. Either way it will take a moment to get his attention if you come to him.

Wildcard
Feel free to tag along with Sam wherever you want to! The only way he'd tell you to buzz off is if you're being deliberately obnoxious and even then, it would take a lot of doing to get that to happen. Maybe you've come up on him building a snowman for his kid! Maybe you just wanna meet the baby! It's all good!

Yes, He Wants To Build A Snowman {Wild Card}

[theydrewfirstblood]

John's pretty sure he's got the gifts he wants for his people...but he wants to do something for Sam, and that's the hard one. Some things he can make, some he can buy, but whatever he gets for Sam he wants to mean something. He wants...so much that he can't have, but he'll take what he can get--

Then he finds it, at one of the Bazaar stalls. They're little sets for mother and daughter, some of them even bridal keepsakes, but there's one that calls out to him. One that brings forth some of the rare and precious few memories of 'Nam that aren't bad. Even kind of good...

He just has to ask the vendor if they can swap out the chain on the larger version of the jade bracelet for something a little heavier, more masculine. That's what he tells the vendor so it comes out right, but he's thinking of Sam's job, too, and the work on the cabin, and the spring...

The end result is perfect. The links of the chain are thicker, sturdier--less likely to snap, and he's assured the metal is pure and won't do worse than tarnish under heavy use. And the chain on Lou's tiny bracelet can be easily lengthened, making sure she can wear it for a long time to come.

He's feeling...pretty damn good about the gift on his way home from the Bazaar (by way of a long walk that takes him away from all the hustle and bustle for a while) when he spots Sam with a telling bundle of blankets strapped to his chest and what appears to be the start of a snowman.

(He can ignore the way his chest seizes, seeing Sam smile. He can pretend it doesn't matter, the way that body he's seen and admired moves with so little tension, just doing what comes so naturally. He can ignore this just to be close to him.)

Wrapping up his bag tight and tucking it in the pocket of his jacket so it won't be seen too soon, John wanders over and makes sure Sam catches sight of him before he walks up--and talks to Lou instead.

"Hey, Beautiful--is this big lug crampin' your style?" he teases. "What's say you and me go have some real fun, I know verses to 'The Wheels On The Bus' I bet this guy's never even heard of."

Sally Boyle | We Happy Few | Existing!

[sunshinesally]

-Holiday Bazaar-

Freshly garbed in a cozy winter outfit (complete with a matching coat and complementing dress for Gwen), Sally is out on the town looking for Givingstide gifts! She has a hefty 500B voucher in her pocket and only a few close friends, who she plans to spoil rotten.

"Oh, Gwen, isn't this lovely? It's been years since I've been able to really enjoy Christmas shopping. Well, it's not quite Christmas, but still. Mummy's going to get you the most splendid toys!" Sally is happily chattering at Gwen, an old habit from lonelier days that hasn't quite worn off. "Now, what should we get for our friends, hm? We have to get something for Sam, and Lou, and Uncle Eddie, and Arthur..."

Now a solid four months old, Gwen is babbling back to Sally while taking in the lights and sights from her new pram. "Oh, really? Is that so?" Sally responds as if Gwen is telling her some fantastic gossip. "That's mad, Gwenny, what happened next?"

Sally and Gwen would both be happy to chat with any old friends, or make some new ones!

-Pizza Party!-

When Arthur tells Sally there's going to be pizza, she's absolutely going to be there. Beautiful man, beautiful scenery, and a food she's had a monster craving for since getting here? Yes please. Plus, she owes Cecil a proper chat now that the Partridge Family has stopped singing.

Sally arrives looking a bit like a fish out of water, not sure where to start but eyeing the pizza. Maybe Cecil will have gotten ahold of something close enough to pepperoni...

-Mourner's Night (or not)-

Sally does not attend Mourner's Night. Of course she saw the notice in the paper, but she is very much not going. It's cold, and she's not going to ask someone to babysit Gwen just so that she can hike out to the cemetery and open up old wounds about the mother that left her behind.

No, on the contrary, she's been passing around information about a small party she's throwing in her flat above the apothecary. A "celebration of new life" party. Just a subdued little get-together with wine and a warm fire and good conversation and snacks. As a single mother, she can't exactly party like she used to, but a small, cozy, joyful gathering sounds like a great time anyway. Care to join?

-Wildcard-
Snowball fight, anyone?

Holiday Bazaar

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"Hi, Sally! Hi, Gwen!" Chris waves. "Good to see you before I go picking out your presents, otherwise I'd have to... juggle my bags to keep you from getting a peek," they joke.

Then they get a good look at what the ladies are wearing, and give a gleeful little sound. "Oh! And you two match! How adorable."

"Slasher Face" Jean | Project Moon | Existing Player

[restingslasherface]

Rudolta of the Sleigh | Near Oak & Iron

It's been a weird few days. Drawings going missing, a notebook gone (gotta start that one again...), and then, well.

There's this goat-man accosting Jean after their morning coffee. Krampus is doing his damndest to beat Jean with those switches, which, in fairness, he's mainly succeeding (Jean is struggling mightily to parry an enemy that can teleport, this one's almost new...), while Jean is.

Well.

Jean's...

"Comrade! Comrade I am attempting to interview you! Comrade. COMRADE THE PROJECT - OW - "

Open Can Of Wellcheers | Bazaar

Oh, Jean's busy. Taking in the sights, yes, but also hovering near gift ideas, writing furiously in their notebook, chatting excitedly with various merchants. Their notebooks get a lot of play here as they listen intently and with Great Interest to craftsmen, merchants, and artists about their works, what they need to make them, what it took to learn their craft...

Find 'em here for a chat, perhaps. Or something else. If you're a creator yourself, Jean might be caught up in the fervor and want to Know Things.

Laetitia | Various Gifts

Eventually Jean has gifts to present to various people.

Princess Zelda's isn't exactly a surprise, since Jean didn't want to just steal her coat and outfit and come back with it, but they still present their lover with their uniform with a shy little smile so different from their usual resting slasher face. Self-repairing and infused with the vitality of the forest; something tough enough to be used in a real emergency. A note is included from River giving Zelda fairly clear instructions to ensure the clothing is given earth and water on a monthly basis to keep the enchantment fresh.

The trip down to see Comrade Eddie is complicated by Jean not being sure how to hold the shepherd puppy in their arms. By the time they knock on the door their entire face is coated in dog slobber and they're holding their gift out at the end of both arms, looking exasperated but very happy. The puppy will not stop barking in excitement.

A delivery of beer and cheese to the various clinics, plus ethanol for First Aid, has a note attached:

In deep appreciation of your service, I hope this helps you celebrate

- Agent Jean, Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force

A package of high-quality ink and a fancy, brass-bound book are left on the front stoop of Neil West's clinic, with another note from Jean: One can never have enough notebooks

Lord Erik will find a scroll case and a sheet of perforated paper in his mailbox; the case contains a high-quality map of Marrow Island, and is itself waterproof, while each of the 12 coupons entitles the vampire to 30 minutes of Jean shutting the fuck up.

On the other hand, Pomni has a similar map and scroll case delivered in person; an aid in planning escape and travel routes, one she may find useful given that she is, so often, out at sea.

Some collaboration with Yorick gets Jean to the desk of Cecil when he's otherwise out, where the Agent leaves a beautiful snowglobe of Marrow Island near the IN tray.

Finally, The Shade finds a used sole from a high-quality shoe, frozen in glass, left on his front porch, with one last note: Instructions unclear; a sole for you to claim

Funeral of the Dead Butterflies | Mourner's Night

Jean had debated not coming. Even though they did end up attending, they have come armored in their werewolf suit, with the claws concealed in their pockets. Too many of these celebrations have been attacked...it can't be borne.

They relax, more and more, as the night goes on, and eventually can be found off to the side creating a small mound of snow with great patience. As it nears its completion, the surface carefully smoothed by hand to an almost icy finish, Jean inscribes a butterfly at its peak, murmuring to themself: "A solemn heart is all that is required to mourn..."

Containment Breach | Wildcard

Come at me

Funeral of the Dead Butterflies (and Moths?)

[withthemooninoureyes]

There's a peace to somber sadness. It isn't the raw pain of fresh grief, and so doesn't sting like it. It's gentler than stress or even joy. And in this quiet place, that soft rememberance is all that can be felt, drowning out all else.

Standing away from the group, they see a sculptor at work. Intrigued, they stoop beside the finished work, beautiful in both its precision and its ephemerality. Bronwyn could almost pass for a normal height, crouched like this.

"That's really beautiful," they remark softly. "Is it for someone specific?"

Bronwyn Thysania (they/them) || Original Character || NEW!

[withthemooninoureyes]

-I'm Sure You Have Questions-

Winter! Despite a summer birthday, this is undoubtedly Bronwyn's favorite time of year. Snow on everything, lovely smells in the air, crisp air outside and warm hearths within. Couldn't be better!

Except they're in a strange place now, apparently having died or almost died or something. But according to the charming woman from the office, this is an opportunity to tip the scales and return to their life. So they took it, confident they'll be able to sort it out. The only real problem is that they are utterly surrounded by humans.

Well, not just humans. Also elves, and dwarves, and robots(?), and a bird man. Evidently there's also a vampire and a werewolf. But not one other Lunari, and a whole lot of wide eyes. Bronwyn can feel their shock and confusion and sometimes even fear radiating through the decorated streets, towering over everyone here. A nervous breath escapes them, both from the feelings they're absorbing from those around them and because they get the sense they'll be answering a lot of questions.

Looking to get warm, they duck into the tavern, steel themself, and put on a cheery and approachable face as they try their best to order some lunch without scaring anyone.

-Pizza Party?-

Okay so it's a little awkward that they don't know anyone here but consider: they really, really, really want pizza.

(Lunari absolutely have pizza. They sneak into human spaces with magic disguises and steal all their good ideas all the time. And pizza is one of them.)

Bronwyn wanders over awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb and hoping they can convince someone to talk to them so maybe it's not as weird if they scarf down a whole pizza by themself.

-Fortune Teller-

Due to just arriving, Bronwyn hasn't tried to set up a proper shop yet. They'll need more supplies, and to make a name for themself a little bit. They at least need to get to the point where the neighbors are used to the sight of them. So they take the opportunity to set up a little fortune-telling space across from the bazaar, underneath the gazebo. They've got a candle for fire-scrying and a set of extremely simple handmade tarot cards that they drew themself at the library. They've even made a little sign, advertising various services they're offering at their table.

-More Information-
[ Bronwyn had various psychic abilities that have been nerfed for fairness and better player consent! For more info or to opt out, check out their bio! ]

Pizza Party

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris nibbles hesitantly on a pizza slice with dried fruit on it. Technically, tomatoes are a fruit, but... how's that saying go? Intelligence is knowing a tomato is a fruit, wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Chris makes a face. Okay, peaches on pizza... definite 'no' for them. They pick the rest of the orangey bits off the slice, leaving the sausage pieces, and take another bite.

Much better.

"Cecil is using this as an excuse to be creative," Chris calls out a warning to Bronwyn, "just so you know!"

Magne Hikiishi | My Hero Academia | existing player, new character

[sistermagnetic]

Arrival at the Bazaar
While it had taken some doing, some back and forth with the goddess to get her blessing to let her walk free among the Marrow Isle folks, Magne was finally allowed to set foot in Pumpkin Hollow, on the condition that she not start any fights. A relatively easy ask; her Quirk, while powerful even without the use of her main weapon, would probably not function correctly here. She had asked offhand about people's reception of certain presentations only to be assured that she wasn't going to be alone when it came to The Gender Thing. Well, that was something, at least. She could trust that she could be taken at her word.

So with the knowledge that she could walk freely without being scrutinized too heavily, Magne headed toward the lights and decorations in the center of the town, glancing at everything at least for a moment. It's cold, and she doesn't have anything by way of money as of yet, but it won't stop her from cooing over some of the little offerings from the local artisans. In particular she admires a ring that only just fits around her little finger, and just for a moment, she debates on pocketing it while she redirects her attention to something else in the stall. But she'd promised she would at least try to avoid the ire of a more powerful woman than herself, and so simply pouts as she puts the ring back to move on toward one of the stations with complimentary hot drinks. It's chilly out here after all, and her clothes aren't the layers that she was used to. Not even her shoes were up to the standard of the boots that she preferred. She would have to go back to the Oak & Iron sooner rather than later.

For now, though, she would continue to browse, and pretend that she was someone new for a while

A selection of clothes from the local tailors catches her attention as she meanders with a hot cider in hand, and she once again stops to coo as she feels the material of a long velvet skirt with impeccable embroidery.

"Oh how cute... it's not fair..." Just something else that she would have to pass up for now.

Krampusnacht
Of course, all peace goes right out of the nearest window with the arrival of that lump of coal balanced carefully on the footboard post of her bed at the inn. She picks it up, regards it with a frown, and tosses it behind her on her way out of her room, determined to find a way to earn, or purloin, enough brass to get herself some nicer clothes where it won't be made an issue of.

Except she's being stalked, and it's pissing her off. Her head snaps up toward the window to catch glimpses of the creature in its red and white cloak disappearing around corners or between trees, and she scowls after it while debating on whether she should follow and throttle it for creeping her out.

Then she gets struck while out in the village, and finally decides to take matters into her own hands.

"Oh no you don't-"

Her core flashes and anyone nearby her is going to get magnetized, with her hand curling into the back of their clothes as she uses them as an attractor pole to try and drag the creature out of hiding by whatever it presents as.

If you're a woman, you're a north pole, while men are south poles, and anyone in between is going to be a powerful electromagnet and subsequently may have to deal with something metal flying right at them and both they, and Magne, may have to dodge. She has less experience polarizing the enby population. Sorry in advance.

Mourner's Night
Barring possibly being locked up for assault, Magne will be in attendance at the procession. A couple of sticks of incense in hand, a scowl on her face, and a cheap cloak thrown over her shoulders, she silently approaches the cemetery (so unlike what she's seen before outside of the movies!) and makes a point to find a place on her own to kneel in the spaces between stones, lit only by the ambient light thrown around by the snow. Her hands clap together in observance of custom, and the incense is placed in the snow by its sticks to poke up and let their fragrant smoke into the night air.

She says a prayer for the loss of her friends, and for her cohorts. She was the dead one, but that didn't mean she couldn't mourn the loss of the people that she cared about.

"I hope you guys can change the world without me," she mutters, and anyone would be excused for picking up a touch of bitterness in her voice.

Wildcard
Magne is, for those unfamiliar, a trans-woman with a violent streak. She is highly social, very smart, and cares very much about her own independence and autonomy. She will happily chat with whoever she feels like, and will absolutely not be shy about being out and about in the village and at the Oak & Iron. Come acquaint yourself with the muscle of the Vanguard Action Squad.

Krampusnacht

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris startles when they hear that yell, but before they can ask what's wrong, a particularly aged lantern post suddenly sways toward them with a loud creak and then snaps. The base remains where it is, but the suddenly freed part -- complete with guttering lantern -- comes flying at their head.

Chris yelps and hits the dirt -- well... the snow.

If they're lucky, maybe Krampus will get a taste of his own medicine...

[[ OOC: Gender affirmation, yes please! Magne thread? Double yes! ]]

Okami "Ammy" Amaterasu | Okami | New!

[i_ink_therefore_i_ammy]

There Is A Dog At The Bazaar. [Open To All]

Snow white, unimaginably fluffy, and to those who've got senses with a little extra oomph, bearing shining red markings and tufts of fur that seem almost like clouds. She's gulping down holiday treats with trademark canine abandon, the likes of which a mundane canine would rightly avoid.

She's. So. Fluffy. Can you resist petting her? (Spoiler alert: probably not.)

---

There Is A Dog At The Pizza Party. [Open To All]

Free pizza, company, and the fluffiest dog you have ever seen. Perhaps she seems pure white, or maybe you see the red fur that marks what she truly is. What's for certain is she is wolfing down a truly ridiculous amount of pizza.

Okami Amaterasu, Origin Of All That Is Good, is not above nosing at someone's hand for a slice of their pizza. She's not above giving out the divine puppy eyes for another pizza just for her, either.

---

There Is A Dog At Mourner's Night. [Open To All]

After, when the song is complete, there is a dog. Sitting in the snow, somehow welcoming you to come sit by her without a word. Were it any darker, she might be invisible for those who don't see her markings.

Here, she radiates a sense of serenity. Her calming presence is only made more so by the softness of her fur, and the look on her face, like you could talk to her about anything.

---

There Is A Dog, Somewhere. [Wildcard | Open To All]

Or perhaps you encounter her somewhere else!

There Is A Dog At The Pizza Party.

[somebodychildofanyone]

"Whoever's beautiful dog this is, you're gonna die. This isn't a threat it's a description of what's going to happen if you share an enclosed space with this animal."

River la Croix, Journeyman Necromancer, offers a third slice of extra-onions pizza to Amaterasu, looking deeply amused. This dog's coat is beautiful, she's energetic, she's giving off all signs of being healthy, but gods in Arcadia can she eat. This is amazing. She hasn't had this much fun with a random animal since she was a kid.

Lord Erik Osborne | Current Player | OTA - Back from hiatus but might still be a little slow

[lordoftheozarks]

[Meta]
Following the events of that doomed train ride, Erik seemingly vanishes from the town. He left brief notes for his closest friends and lovers explaining that he needs time and distance, but that's the only clue. No mention of how long he'd be gone or where.

All his scheduled work engagements are cancelled or postponed, and the light in his cottage window stays permanently extinguished. The snow around the door remains undisturbed. The house is growing dusty in its disuse as the month drags on. He misses the festivities of the bazaar and the pizza gathering. Who can say if the Krampus had any better luck locating him. When he doesn't want to be found, he's very good at staying hidden.

[You'll Catch Your Death of Cold]
After having his very worst fear realized, he cannot stand to stay in the town among the people he'd threatened and killed. He lost control. It was the one thing he swore he'd never let happen. Monsters don't belong in town, they belong in the woods. So that's where he goes. He changes into a hawk and roosts among the trees to sleep. He hunts the deer for his sustenance. It's safer than letting himself be tempted by human blood again.

Even for a vampire, winter is the bleakest time of the year. He doesn't feel the pain of cold, but he misses the warmth of the summer. He misses feeling anything at all. When that voice calls to him in the wind, he follows it with little resistance. Dimly, he's aware it could be dangerous, but he can't bring himself to worry for his own safety. He's already dead, after all. And, oh, he is so weary. His soul, if he does indeed have one, is worn thin. The promise of safety, warmth, and love is too sweet a nectar to refuse.

"Yes..." he murmurs. "So warm..." He doesn't rip his clothes off. They're the same red suit and pants he wore on the train, dirty and stained now, already soaked through with wet. He doesn't mind that as he lays his head down in the powdery snow within this beautiful clearing. He's content to stay here until he freezes into a burgundy blemish on this pristine landscape, like a single drop of blood on white silk handkerchief.

[Mourner’s Night]
He walks silently with the group, his head bowed and his face covered with a veil like many of the others. He's still skittish about talking to others, so it's a relief that silence is expected for most of this. In that silence, he contemplates all the loss of his life. Faces swim before his eyes, some he can put a name to, others he cannot. His very first victim still haunts him; her pale face seems to look at him in the flicker of his candle. If he knew her name, he would speak it. If he knew any of their names...

When the singing starts, he stays silent. His head remains bowed. As the ceremony ends and people begin to disperse, he turns to go back to the woods...unless someone stops him.

Mourner's Night

[thelatechrisfreeman]

After the encounter by the well -- and lashing out at Angel, to their shame -- Chris is ready to head home... and then a figure heading for the woods catches their eye. Clothes dark in the shadows, but clearly no winter coat...

Chris steps forward quickly and calls out, "Erik..?"

Their voice trembles a little, hopeful.