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sticksandbones2023-12-01 09:16 am
sticksandbonesmods) wrote in sticksandbones2023-12-01 09:16 am
EVENT 007
EBB AND FLOE
A WINTERFUL LIFE
cw: food scarcity
The December snows roll in heavy, and with it, the fear-monsters and little pranksters that harassed you all month disperse into black mist. Whether they were about to kill you, stalking you, or pulling your hair, as soon as the moon hits its zenith, the beasts are gone. The mists float harmlessly into the air, hopefully to never be seen again. Hopefully.
For now, you’re free. The Forest and the Creature within slumber, as the cold seeps into every corner of the confined space you reside in and beyond. No longer will the entities within the woods try to kill you just for putting a toe past the fog wall. No longer does anybody sense a lingering danger. Finally, the Grove is peaceful. You can only hope it’ll last.
Unfortunately, while no mysterious monsters are working to murder you in cold blood, nothing can be done about the river freezing over, cutting off access to fish, and nothing can be done about the General Store running out of meat. The river’s ice cannot be broken nor melted. The grasses and flowers have shrivelled under the extreme cold; the trees are twiggy and leafless. Mysteriously untouched are the gifts from the Guardians — the blackberry bush on the opposite side of the river and the apple tree on the bank near the school continue to fruit throughout the month. Remember to say “thank you” before you feast from what remains.
At the very least, the General Store has plenty of trail mix, vegetables, and crackers. It’ll be a difficult month — but so far, you’ve endured much worse. Surely a little hunger can’t kill you now?
The December snows roll in heavy, and with it, the fear-monsters and little pranksters that harassed you all month disperse into black mist. Whether they were about to kill you, stalking you, or pulling your hair, as soon as the moon hits its zenith, the beasts are gone. The mists float harmlessly into the air, hopefully to never be seen again. Hopefully.
For now, you’re free. The Forest and the Creature within slumber, as the cold seeps into every corner of the confined space you reside in and beyond. No longer will the entities within the woods try to kill you just for putting a toe past the fog wall. No longer does anybody sense a lingering danger. Finally, the Grove is peaceful. You can only hope it’ll last.
Unfortunately, while no mysterious monsters are working to murder you in cold blood, nothing can be done about the river freezing over, cutting off access to fish, and nothing can be done about the General Store running out of meat. The river’s ice cannot be broken nor melted. The grasses and flowers have shrivelled under the extreme cold; the trees are twiggy and leafless. Mysteriously untouched are the gifts from the Guardians — the blackberry bush on the opposite side of the river and the apple tree on the bank near the school continue to fruit throughout the month. Remember to say “thank you” before you feast from what remains.
At the very least, the General Store has plenty of trail mix, vegetables, and crackers. It’ll be a difficult month — but so far, you’ve endured much worse. Surely a little hunger can’t kill you now?
FREEZE THE DAY
During the day, the cold isn’t that bad. Sure, there’s a foot of snow on the ground and more keeps falling, and sure, snowball fights aren’t exactly fun anymore because your fingers get way too chilly way too quickly — but the sun still shines, and sometimes you can stand out in a sunny spot and feel a whole five degrees warmer than you were a moment ago. It’s tolerable. During the night, however, the temperatures dip well below freezing, and the air is so frigid that it dries your skin out on contact. Frostbite threatens to set in within minutes if you aren’t properly dressed.
Fires are harder to light, too, even if they’re indoors. You’ll find that, should you get one lit, it’ll go out within half an hour. None of the buildings stay warm for very long past night, and though they aren’t completely frozen-over, it’s the least bit uncomfortable for those who aren’t cold-faring to cope with. What is there to do, other than grab as many blankets as possible and make a nest or a fort, or maybe even grab a friend and leech their body heat? They don’t need that, right?
While you’re bothered by the weather, the Shopkeeper, Trader, and the two Guardians present within the Grove are entirely unaffected. Rusty, however, is merely a dog. He’ll help himself to cuddling against you whenever he can, including letting himself into your room at night and getting under the covers while you sleep. He will thank you in the mornings by leaving you a simple gift at your feet: A bone he found outside, because he loves you.
…one has to wonder how he broke in in the first place, though.
Fires are harder to light, too, even if they’re indoors. You’ll find that, should you get one lit, it’ll go out within half an hour. None of the buildings stay warm for very long past night, and though they aren’t completely frozen-over, it’s the least bit uncomfortable for those who aren’t cold-faring to cope with. What is there to do, other than grab as many blankets as possible and make a nest or a fort, or maybe even grab a friend and leech their body heat? They don’t need that, right?
While you’re bothered by the weather, the Shopkeeper, Trader, and the two Guardians present within the Grove are entirely unaffected. Rusty, however, is merely a dog. He’ll help himself to cuddling against you whenever he can, including letting himself into your room at night and getting under the covers while you sleep. He will thank you in the mornings by leaving you a simple gift at your feet: A bone he found outside, because he loves you.
…one has to wonder how he broke in in the first place, though.
PARTING IS SUCH SLEET SORROW
Midway through the month, the snowfall begins to pick up. While the Grove hasn’t quite hit blizzard territory yet, the snow is consistent and unending, especially late at night. On occasion, mixed in with the delicate snowflakes, are tiny golden lights. Should they go untouched and unobstructed, they’ll simply fade away when they flutter to the ground. But should you, say, catch one on your tongue with the other flakes, or have one brush your hand, or purposely try to grab one?
It will float through you, into you, and your mind will be transported elsewhere. To the past, as you were when you were here originally. It is a vision of your past life, of memories long lost, of a “you” that isn’t “you” as you are now. Whether the golden light has you spectating as if you’re seeing yourself on a television screen, or acting the part of the old “you”, that matters little to the vision the golden light wanted to show you. It will end when it wants to end, you see. You could get an hour of a memory, or a single minute, or three whole days. It might have even dragged in another with you, someone nearby who was hit with a ball of light themselves or happened to pass by.
For those of you who have avoided this fate, you get to bear witness to those that are affected — they’re standing stone-still wherever they last touched the golden lights, eyes closed, as if asleep while standing up. You can try to rouse them, but they won’t wake until they’ve fully experienced the memory being shown to them. The best thing to do might be to drag them inside so they aren’t icicles when they come back to reality.
It will float through you, into you, and your mind will be transported elsewhere. To the past, as you were when you were here originally. It is a vision of your past life, of memories long lost, of a “you” that isn’t “you” as you are now. Whether the golden light has you spectating as if you’re seeing yourself on a television screen, or acting the part of the old “you”, that matters little to the vision the golden light wanted to show you. It will end when it wants to end, you see. You could get an hour of a memory, or a single minute, or three whole days. It might have even dragged in another with you, someone nearby who was hit with a ball of light themselves or happened to pass by.
For those of you who have avoided this fate, you get to bear witness to those that are affected — they’re standing stone-still wherever they last touched the golden lights, eyes closed, as if asleep while standing up. You can try to rouse them, but they won’t wake until they’ve fully experienced the memory being shown to them. The best thing to do might be to drag them inside so they aren’t icicles when they come back to reality.
SPARK NOTES
CLICK TO EXPAND!
A WINTERFUL LIFE
The Forest has gone to sleep for the month. Unfortunately, the river is frozen, and it's hard to come across much food, save for what grows upon the Guardians' gift plants by the river. Luckily, the General Store seems to have some sparser amounts of food throughout the month.
FREEZE THE DAY
It's cold outside! Below freezing, actually! And for some reason, heat indoors just doesn't stick. Luckily you can cuddle with friends, in your own nest of blankets, or with Rusty, who is somehow breaking into everybody's bedrooms even if you've locked all your doors and windows. Hello, hi, he loves you and he is cold.
PARTING IS SUCH SLEET SORROW
Golden lights fall amidst the snowflakes. If you come into contact with one, you'll close your eyes and dream of your past life within the Grove. You might even unwillingly pull someone else in with you.
OOC
Y'all how is it already December. If you'd like to plot with people for this event, head over to OOC plotting. Reminder that AC for the month of December is check-in only, which means that if you're not feelin' it you can simply put in a "hi I still go here" comment and exit for the rest of the month. It's the holiday season, after all, so we don't expect you to give up family time for our silly little game. Regular AC will resume in January, and that will also be when our next TDM occurs. Happy holidays!
UPDATES
❖ None yet!
blanket cw for dead teen, plant based body horror for the rest of this thread probs
He exhales slowly, a tightness in his chest despite lacking a similar urge to cry, watching as Vash seems to be making a last attempt to confirm her dead or not. Really, he knows what Vash is going to say before it leaves his mouth.]
All you'll do is alarm the whole town by doing that.
[Think about it. They're two complete strangers to this world. What's it going to look like if they carry a corpse of potentially someone they care about and have been missing for a while back from the woods?]
The best thing you could do for her now is bury her here.
[She's clearly suffered for a long time. Not just in life, but long after her death, forced to be left here perpetually thanks to the ice and snow. Of course, he gets the sense that Vash isn't going to go along with that idea.]
ww; 1. v; 3
Not until one uncoils into a beast and sinks it's crimson teeth into Wolfwood's shoulder, dragging him down further.
Another leaps for Vash, pinning him down as all of it's talons sink into his chest or legs with a snarl.
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The cut of its talons is a viscious one. Pain alights in the back of his mind, setting all of his nervous alight. A strangled noise leaves him as he tries to get his forearm beneath the creature's maw, to at least keep his throat from being ripped out. As he grapples with the beast with his metal hand, the other tries to find his gun at his hip.
And yet, for all his struggling, his mind isn't fully on his own fight. Instead, he tries to toss his head to the side. He has to know if Wolfwood is okay. If the man was killed because of his ultimate decision to go plunging into the woods, he wouldn't know what to do.]
Wolfwood - [He grits his teeth as he tries to shove at the beast.] Nick!
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Wolfwood, despite having stayed back from where the body was situated, has no time at all to react when the plant-like beast suddenly explodes from one of the bushes. It comes at him hard and fast, dragging him down to the forest floor with its jaws. It's fangs sink deep into his shoulder as he chokes out a strangled sound of pain, the fall having caused him to drop his own gun. It's not as convenient of a thing to wield as Vash's unfortunately, which means it ends up laying prone in the snow next to him, useless for the moment as he grapples with the beast.
He can hear Vash shouting nearby, though he's unable to see just exactly what's going on. His blood is already seeping into the snow beneath him, staining the white a deep crimson. Unlike the way a sane person might react in this situation, Wolfwood is immediately reaching up with his bare hands to push back at the creature's neck, undoubtedly spearing his palms on the thorns that protrude from his skin in an effort to shove it off...which isn't successful. How could it be, when those jaws are locked around his shoulder, shaking him around like a ragdoll?
So instead, he tries to roll with the creature, kicking out in an attempt to kick the thing in the chest to get it off, but missing on that front too.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-
He suddenly feels his thigh press up against the cloth covered edge of the Punisher, and that's enough to give him the idea to use his weight to throw the beast into it, its spikes hopefully ripping the cloth off enough that he can grab the edge and rip it off the rest of the way with one hand. Normally I wouldn't allow this to work but he rolled a fucking 20, which means-
Wolfwood kicks his right leg out, his heel catching on the mechanism in the center of the gun, which switches the firing mode. The gun is still on the ground (dangerous), but he and the beast are practically on top of it (DANGEROUS), which means-]
LOOK OUT!
[It's shouted to Vash, because the head of the Punisher is starting to hum with energy, glowing as it charges up a blast from within. He's hoping that by sheer blind luck, he's able to get this creature in front of the blast, and not either of them.]
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Wolfwood has both worse and better luck. The crimson maw digs and digs and digs further, it's a miracle Wolfwood doesn't come out of this missing a chunk. It doesn't have eyes or ears, so it doesn't know the danger it's in- not until the blast pratically beheads the thing. Blood and sap spill from the wound and it collapses, but Wolfwood will have to unhinge the jaws himself.
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He's mid-roll when the Punisher fires. The laser cuts through the air, freeing Wolfwood even as it singes through part of Vash's flesh arm. It isn't much by his standards — no more than an inch of now freshly cauterized flesh and burnt fabric — but it's damn enough to hurt like a bitch. An animalistic noise leaves him as the pain rolls through every nerve in his body.
Trying to get his hand to function after that is next to impossible. He fumbles, desperately, trying to keep the beast pinned even as he grabs his gun. At least it was unholstered, and at least it didn't fall out. These are the small victories. But it's hard to say whether or not the beast will stay still long enough for Vash to actually lower the gun and shoot it in the head though.
Especially with that moment of hesitation.
He's sworn not to kill humans, but that doesn't mean he relishes taking animal life in turn. Even this feels wrong. For all he knows, he's found a nest. Disturbed its young. The creatures could only trying to protect themselves.
But this is unavoidable.]
cw: breaking bones, drug use??
The beast falls on top of Wolfwood, the jaws still affixed firmly to his shoulder. His left arm, the one that's taken the brunt of the injury, is nearly completely numb from the agony at this point, but he has to get it off of him. He wills himself to move as he struggles in the snow, his right arm coming around to grab the top jaw while his left weakly fits fingers beneath the bottom.
He pulls, and the sound he makes is not unlike a wild animal as he roars through the pain to get the beast's jaws open. There's a grotesque snap of bone as he breaks the jaw entirely, the mostly-decapitated head finally flopping onto the snow beside him. Only then is Wolfwood able to fall down onto his back entirely, his hands trembling and covered in blood. Gashes from the teeth and thorns rent through his palms and fingers, he fumbles inside his jacket for one of the vials there, several others spilling out with a soft clatter against each other into the snow. Eventually he manages to get a hold of one and break it with his teeth, ingesting the liquid in the vial before spitting the glass out.
He's barely been here a day, and he's gone through one of his five. Yet, even as he lays prone in the snow and expects his wounds to start healing with the usual telltale hiss and roil of steam off his body...nothing happens.
Nothing fucking happens.]
Re: cw: breaking bones, drug use??
For a moment, everything stills. The smell of fresh and old blood alike mingle with smoke and ice, and it's a grim reminder of something they've long forgotten.
Beside the girl's corpse, something shines like a beacon. You will feel compelled to touch it.
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Unfortunately, he doesn't have that here. What he does have is a now burning curiosity. He glances toward Wolfwood to see if his companion has taken note of this strange thing, before crawling back toward the body.
He reaches out.]
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It's spring time, and the town is full- the empty courtyard of depleted buildings is instead well built, with a solid plaza surrounding the well. They can see it expands further, like a small but bustling town surrounded by trees. The pink haired girl stands at the edge, glaring at the forest as she wraps her wrist, a basket of herbs hanging off of her arm.
A boy with long, pale hair and purple eyes frowns as he passes.
"Did something attack you again? The forest's been so dangerous lately... you really shouldn't go alone anymore," he says softly as the girl scoffs.
"Those things won't get me. They're blind and deaf- they have to rely on scent, and the thing about the forest is that it's full of scents. If push comes to shove, just busting their noses or even forcing them into the dirt makes 'em useless."
"But they still come back."
"So do the birds, and the wolves, and that guy with snakes coming out of his neck- what even's up with that, actually-"
"I don't know, I don't want to know, and we are not going to find out- ah, you're hurt! I knew it. You're not going back out there again today, we're going to see the Doctor Grenore-"
He gently loops his arm with hers to drag her away from the forest as she protests weakly, but it's all for show. While the boy looks onward, she looks back. Sitting on the top of a fallen tree, sits a rose hound.
Everything returns to the cold.
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He doesn't know what else to make of it, other than the fact that this is probably a past memory of some sort. There's no way to know how they're seeing it, or if the details are exactly all true...and before he can really wonder, it all goes away and they're once more left in the dark woods, their only company corpses.
Wolfwood coughs from some distance away, cursing under his breath at the taste of copper on his tongue. The fact the drugs do not seem to be working was something he'd never thought about (they are, just much slower than he's used to, stitching his body together at a rate of several minutes, not seconds), because why would he? Just because he's somewhere else doesn't mean his physiology should suddenly be different.]
God damn it..
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For right now, he tries to force himself to his feet. His arm aches. His chest stings. His head swims. Rest is what he wants more than anything, but he knows that it's not feasible. Not yet. Instead, he moves toward Wolfwood in an attempt to gauge the man's own injuries.]
Still with me? [Sure, the guy's still alive, but he's also covered in blood. Vash never thought to ask if he has the serums still. In fact, even as he speaks he's contemplating tearing off chunks of his undershirt in an attempt to bandage some of Wolfwood's wounds.
Even as his hand clumsily rises, he casts a glance around the woods. He's trying to be more on alert this time, thank you. And as his eyes rake through the brambles and trees, he speaks.]
We should head back. Before anything else decides it's hungry.
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It's not over yet.
And it isn't, because the rest of the smaller rose bushes are slowly shaking, standing up and unfurling into hounds. The scent of blood has awoken them. The scent of sap enrages them.
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He does not tell Vash the drugs don't seem to be working. He keeps his silence, though there's a visible sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, his left arm still limp and useless at his side. Nevertheless, he leans over to heft the Punisher, using his good hand to ker-chunk the mechanism back down, turning it sharply to lock it back into place. He manages to do this just in time to catch that whisper in his ears, prompting him to look over as the bushes begin to shake.
Wordlessly, Wolfwood steps back until he's once more shoulder-to-shoulder with Vash. Of course it's never easy.
Under his breath he growls, quiet so as not to agitate the hounds further.]
Your call.
[Either they fight, or they try to run.]
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He runs the odds in his mind. They're both injured. Trying to run all the way back to town was going to be a hell of a mess. Even worse is the fact that they're likely to be leading the beasts back toward them. They also don't know how many there are, either.
Vash's own ammo is limited. He has seven shots left, and he isn't keen on wasting the rest here. They know now what might fend the creatures off, but that meant getting clsoe enough to be attacked by the whole swarm.
He swallows, then glances toward Wolfwood. He forces a grin.]
Running is what I do best, you know.
[He waits only a second, making sure Wolfwood has understood and won't be totally left behind. Then he starts sprinting back the way they came.]
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The instant Vash turns to run, Wolfwood follows in hot pursuit. The movement is going to instantly trigger the hounds, no question about that, so best thing they can do is get a head start before they realize what's happening. He's carrying the Punisher on his back, wincing every time the metal beats across his shoulders, but he isn't going to stop. No matter how much it hurts, or how much he bleeds.
The drugs, if nothing else, are working to heal his wounds, albeit slowly. He and Vash are definitely leaving a hefty trail of blood in the snow as they go unfortunately, which means a nice scent trail for those hounds to follow them by.]
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Something in the woods creaks awake.
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Just - reminding you. Kick my ass after this is all over, yeah?
[He twists at his waist, looking over their shoulders even as he runs. The gun is still in his hands, and he lifts it to fire at a branch. His hope is to crack it through and block their path. In the end, it does little more than rain snow down onto the pursuing hounds.]
Oh come on! [He shouts back to them.]
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[Running and kicking Vash's ass, he means. But honestly, they're lucky he's even able to run like this, heaving with every breath and fighting to not slip on the ice. Running on snow is different than running on the sand, though no less slippery either. Instead of filling his shoes with sand, he's filling them with cold water, which leaves his feet numb and painful and it's not super conducive to getting out of dodge fast.
There's a log up ahead of them in their path, caked with snow and difficult to see. Fortunately, Wolfwood manages to catch sight of it seconds before he might beef it by tripping, but it also means he has to make an ungainly leap over the thing. He thuds on the other side, skidding for several feet through the snow, colliding briefly with Vash with a muffled curse.
The worst part? He has no idea where they are. Where they're going. They didn't think to mark their way, and now...they could be heading back towards town. They could be running in circles. There's no real way to know.]
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And then they resume the chase. Somehow the fallen tree and underbrush are easy for the beasts to navigate, so they can catch up where the men stumble with frightful ease.
The fog is rushing in behind them, however. Just as a beast is about to leap, jaws clamping down on flesh once more, the black fog seems to suck the hound in, and a scolding, childish voice echoes out:
It's time to REST. We can play with them later...
...
And then just as quickly, the fog is gone, and so are the hounds.
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And then the Fog is on them. Vash's eyes close as he expects the worst. Instead, he hears only that voice. He doesn't stop running, not willing to give in just yet. But in his panic, he does blindly reach out, almost as if to grab Wolfwood. If they're going down, at least they can go down together.
Before he makes contact, though, the fog disappears, and silence presses in. He doesn't stop moving, but he at least slows to a jog, and then a walk. The thrown out hand falls to his side, then lifts once more to grip at his wounds.]
The hell - [A deep breath.] Was that...
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When the fog overtakes them, he doesn't know what to expect. Elsword warned against it, but didn't give specifics...well, maybe now they'd be suffering for Wolfwood's hubris. He's the one who wanted to leave, basically coercing Vash into coming along with him.
But then the fog is gone. He vaugely catches sight of Vash's arm outstretched towards him in the corner of his eye, only to draw back against himself as they slow to a jog, then a stumbling walk. He's breathing hard, like he's run a marathon and then some, and stumbles into Vash again. Steam finally starts to lift off his body now, minutes after taking the drugs, and the blood seeping into his clothing has slowed.
For a few moments, Wolfwood can't speak. He's never experienced this kind of slow drip from the chemicals before. Usually it's an instant dose of energy, but this...]
D...does it matter? It's gone...fuck...
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How did you -
[His head swims, and he gets the feeling it isn't just because of his confusion. His hand is slick with his own blood, and he's a little worried that if he looks down, he might just see just how deep those wounds go.
Still, he doesn't focus on that. He flicks some of the blood off his hand and properly surveys Wolfwood.]
Forget it. I'm just - [One last deep breath.] I'm glad you're okay. I... shouldn't have encouraged all'a this. I should've known I'd get us into trouble.
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He's trying to not think about it himself, though he will be panicking a little later over it. He has no way of knowing if the drugs are just not working like they should, or if it's this place affecting him, or what...and he has nobody he could ask about that. Nobody he would ask.
He'll just die, he guesses.
Wolfwood reaches up a palm, still scarred up with gashes that are slowly healing over, and smears it across the corner of his mouth.]
Shut up, needle-noggin. You don't have to take the blame for all of it.
[This time, Wolfwood has enough self-awareness to see that this is partially his fault. It was his idea to go into the woods, Vash just eventually relented and enabled it when Wolfwood wouldn't back down.
It's then that he notices Vash's arm, and the strange way his skin and jacket are burnt. It prompts Wolfwood to shift a step back.]
Shit. I hit you?
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And now this. Vash had seen worse. He probably wouldn't die. But he also wasn't sure about making it all the way back to town without keeling over. And considering all the trouble he'd caused, he isn't convinced Wolfwood will carry him back, either.
Well. Better to get as far as he can. And certainly better to not let his friend think anything was wrong. With luck, they'll at least get close to town. Then he can hope a good samaritan will drag him in front of a fire.
For now, he shrugs once — ow — before setting to trekking through the woods once more.]
I'll be alright. I've had a lot worse, Wolfwood. Don't go worrying about me.
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