sticksandbones | EVENT & TDM 022

EVENT & TDM 022

WAKE UP

Being out in the woods is, for some people, an ordinary day. You may or may not be one of those people — you almost certainly don’t remember going camping, do you? — and yet you emerge from a tent and think to yourself, hm, that’s quite odd! Where is the nearest civilization anyhow? If you’re brave enough, perhaps you set out to seek it, walking toward where you think you hear noise in the far distance. It sounds a bit like cheering. A party? A bonfire? You can’t be certain, not at first.

As you step onto the worn trail, something nearly clocks you right in the head. A nimble dodge to the left and a quick glance at the ground tells you that it’s some kind of tree branch made of… flesh? It’s certainly flesh-textured, though the colour is a deep blue that glows white. It seems to be rapidly rotting into the ground, and as you look up… a giant, several hundred foot tree of a similar eldritch makeup is falling apart before your eyes. Your walk back to civilization will be full of dodging probably-dead flesh tree bits.

Should you make it in one piece, the source of the noise becomes obvious: the people making up this small town are cheering and yelling about something else of eldritch makeup. It seems that some of the creatures who have lived in this civilization’s river for the last year, the Seaborn, have decided to evolve to be capable of flight. Some residents of this town seem extremely enthusiastic with this. Some are wary. Some simply don’t care.

You? Well, that’s for you to decide.

Welcome to the eldritch horror fae woods, dear friend. Enjoy your stay.

A SNAKE IN THE GRASS

While the black fog returns, some paths are left clear, or at least not as impacted as other areas of the woods. Mist fades in and out, and even if you aren’t one for nature, surely exploration can sing its siren song when the size of the town is too small and all the faces look the same. Paths line themselves with daffodils and chamomile flowers, with arctic poppies and clearings of wildflowers- foxglove and lavender especially prominent. They’re lovely, all of them, and bloom far more rapidly than anything else should be this early into spring, this late into winter, but they do.

But something creeps beneath the flowers, and something large digs through the earth, leaving upturned grooves in the dirt and grass, trails of flattened mud and roots with only bushes of camelia on the outskirts left behind. It’s quiet in the forest, not even birds singing. It makes the hiss of tongues all the more noticeable.

If you’re lucky, you might see a purple and grey stone shift in the distance, gone just as quickly as it was there. If you aren’t, you don’t see its much smaller, flower-patterned counterpart strike from the shadows. Snakes are working their way into the Grove, hiding in bushes and under steps, anywhere they can lurk and strike the unsuspecting, and their bite is venomous.

One bite brings excruciating pain, bone-deep cold, an increased frailty of the body and hallucinations. A second bite brings a deep, nightmare-filled sleep. A third bite brings death. All of them scar with a black sun over the bites, a mark of divine wrath — the Fallen Sun sends his regards, and his hate.

Those who perish to the snake bite will awaken in their bed in a few days, feeling nauseous and weakened, but…

'NEATH SERPENT'S GAZE

… This simply isn’t tenable. Between the paranoia and the snake’s stealth, it’s hard to feel safe outside of your home, and maybe inside, despite the fact that once again your homes offer refuge from the forest’s attacks—they hadn’t once upon a red, hot summer, after all. How did they face this last time? It was a flower, wasn’t it? And the new flowers in the forest seem special, if only because of their strong growth compared to the rest of the forest.

But if you go into the woods, two large stone snakes wait, ready to protect the natural gardens. Breaking them does little but slow them down for a time, and their bite is both larger and their venom stronger—the true version, the one that crippled a household in seconds. The severity of the symptoms are worse, murderously so, but survivable if it’s not the third bite.

They block the way, ambush would-be travelers, coil around the flower patches, and will not be stopped. Does this confirm that the flowers could help? Or are they simply protective of their master’s property? Is it play?

Regardless, they wait and watch.

CITIES & BONES

When all the violence of the month ends, and thank goodness for that, you decide to head to bed. For once, you might sleep well — there are no threats of snakes making you wonder if you or your friends might die tomorrow, and the Grove as a whole feels much safer. It’s as if someone or something is guarding over it — different from the Guardian Deities and the Goddesses as a whole.

For the next several days after the snakes disappear, your dreams are strange, as if you’re receiving a vision from another world. A modern city, so different from Aldric’s Grove that you’re not entirely convinced it lies in this dimension, blinks in neon lights behind your eyelids. Between the cacophonous sounds of motorized vehicles rushing by, the din of people talking in a language you don’t understand, and the distant electrical humming from the street lights, perceptive dreamers might hear something else:

The soft clacking of dry bones.

Spark Notes

summary

Wake up: You were apparently camping. You don't recall this. As you head out toward the sound of civilization, bits of giant blue flesh-tree nearly hit you in the head. You'll have to dodge the remaining flesh tree bits as it crumbles while you walk back to town.

A Snake In The Grass: Flowers spring up far too early in the season, and the fog wall returns. Purple and grey-coloured stone snakes begin to attack from the bushes and flowers where they're hidden. One bite brings cold and frailty, a second bite brings nightmares, and a third bite brings death. All bites scar with a mark of the Black Sun.

'Neath Serpent's Gaze: You've heard of a flower that can cure the poison, but to get there, you have to face two far larger stone snakes who are guarding over nature here. Whether they want to play or simply kill isn't clear. You're in danger of death either way.

Cities & Bones: While you sleep after the snakes disappear, you'll have strange dreams that feel like visions and feel watched by something safe and kindly. While your dreams are absorbed in that of a cityscape that feels almost too real, you can sometimes hear the clattering of bones.

out of character

Welcome to March's TDM and Event! Spring is springing and we've got a lot of really cool events coming up in the next few months. The magic system should debut this month as well, which we're very excited about. It is a slow process but the rewards should be well worth it.

updates

Any potential updates, such as characters damaging something important or whatever else, will be put here.

submissions

❖ Questions
❖ March Plotting
❖ Past Life Plotting (Closed to Game Members)
❖ Investigations

code

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[Funny you ask, because he actually has just smoked through that whole cigarette and is in the midst of tossing the butt to the ground and grinding it under his shoe, rummaging in his blazer pockets so he can find another one to smoke.]

Yeah?

[He murmurs, sticking another between his teeth as he pats himself, searching now for his lighter...fuck, did he drop it somewhere...]

Ain't like I was an old man, or nothin'. ...neither were you.

Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing no horns and a normal face without these fucking stones on it was weird.

[His arms are crossed, at least at first. Then... uncrossed, as Flamebringer strides a few steps forward, pushing off the tree with his shoulders only to grab Wolfwood by one of his, pull him forward...

Where he lights the cigarette with a spark of flame from the tip of his tongue, of all things, gazing a little too deeply into Wolfwood's eyes and holding that pose a little too long to call it platonic before he backs off and re-centers himself against the oak.]

I like us better now versus then, what can I say?

[Yeah no that was not fucking platonic what the fuck-

Even Wolfwood is caught off guard by it, his eyes widening a fraction as he just...stares back at Flamebringer for a long moment, even long after he's already lit the cigarette and pulled away. Like, if they weren't actively dancing around this past-life thing, Wolfwood would have been like get your ass back over here wait a fucking minute.

Instead, he lifts his hand to grip the cigarette between his index and middle finger as he takes a deep drag, exhaling the smoke through the side of his mouth before he says anything else.

He huffs.]

So you remember it all too.

Hard to forget something like that.

[There's no "how are you feeling" or "I really want to slug you". It was warm and affectionate and downright disgusting in how sugar-sweet it all was. Not like them now. More akin to how Flamebringer and Ezell are now, and how he knows Ain is with Wolfwood.

It's not "them". But it's them.]

Don't lose your bite now that we've had a few saccharine moments. I like you better when your teeth are in my throat.

[Flamebringer.]

Tch. I ain't losin' nothin'.

[Wolfwood cups his hand around his cigarette to keep the wind from blowing out the flame, taking another long breath so he can hold the smoke in his lungs for a bit, relishing the burn before he exhales it back out.

It was incredibly idyllic, this life they apparently had. They were married, had kids...were happy. Wolfwood still feels this strange sort of disconnect about it, because it's hard to believe he ever could have had that sort of life. It's so far beyond his ability to conceptualize that it still doesn't feel like it was him.

Thinking about it makes him sad, and it maybe shows a little in the way he's looking off at the ground, his hands moving into his pockets.]

I just. ...I dunno.

...

[Flamebringer sighs. He sighs, like Wolfwood just told him he failed math class or something.]

Out with it. You "dunno" what?

[......]

Just kinda. Sad t'think about, I guess.

[Is what he finally ends up saying.]

All seemed so fuckin'...happy.

...yeah. Didn't seem like something guys like us deserved, huh?

[Not murderers like them. Not people who get off on good battle like them.]

It's in the past. Hundreds, if not thousands of years ago. There's no point on getting hung up on shit that happened back then — it's not like we can change the past. The future's ours to do what we want with. That's what's important.

[Wolfwood's brow furrows even harder, if that's possible, and he shifts his weight to his other foot. He's chewing on his cigarette, to the point where if he does it for too much longer he's going to break the filter and have a bad time.]

I know...and I agree with you. I ain't tryin' to argue that, Flamebringer.

[He pauses...for longer than he means to before continuing.]

But that don't mean it didn't still happen. That it didn't...still mean somethin'.

[Flamebringer knows Wolfwood. He knows he isn't one for sappy shit, or sentimental shit, or any of that. But they both basically lived a day in their past lives, and it felt as real as the day when it happened. And knowing full well it's a real memory, and not just some kind of dream or mass hallucination?

He's still trying to figure out how to cope with it. The fact that, when he woke up from it, he felt like he'd lost a part of himself with it.]

[For a moment, he's silent, rolling Wolfwood's words around on his tongue. It did happen, it did mean something. It's obvious it did; if it meant nothing, would Flamebringer bother to have avoided Wolfwood this whole time? No, no he wouldn't have, because for all his "I don't care, it doesn't matter" he does care, and it did matter, and he knows what Wolfwood's skin feels like against his lips both in the past and in the present. It's just one of them was far, far more loving.

"Love", huh. Love enough to be married, to have kids and a house and chickens, to go out into the garden every morning and chase the hornworms off his plants while Wolfwood — "Nick" — stood on the balcony smoking and watching him work. To light their cigarettes off each others' and blow smoke rings into their mouths.

When he thinks of it with Wolfwood, it's too sweet. Hell, that's not even how he sees Ezell — Ezell is solar flares, morning dew on the poppies in the garden, the warmth of fresh bread in the morning and the comforting scent of cut roses. He's the taste of something sweet, someone who Flamebringer wants to protect and keep, press his nose into his cheek and breathe in his scent.

Wolfwood is... not that. Wolfwood is a stubborn vine clinging to the trellis that Flamebringer cannot clip. He's the acrid taste of smoke that fills Flamebringer's lungs either in daily life or when facing down actual, honest-to-god war. He's a thorn in Flamebringer's heel, a weed choking out the lilies, an Amanita that he shouldn't leave there but is too fond of to remove.

He pushes himself off the oak tree again, arms still crossed, and strides into Wolfwood's space again. This time, he plucks the cigarette from his lips, flips it around, and ashes it over Wolfwood's blazer.]

Asher loved Nick, [he says, quietly,] more than either of us can probably say.

[He presses the half-smoked cigarette to his lips, takes a long drag, and exhales a ring of smoke off to the side.]

I don't love you. Not like he did. Not like your current partners do, and not how I love Ezell. But if you asked me right now, I'd say I love the thought of carving my name into your back with my claws in some possessive, fucked up sort of way.

I don't think that's the sort of love you deserve.

[Wolfwood doesn't lift his head to meet Flamebringer's gaze again until he hears his footsteps approaching, watching as he reaches up to take the cigarette from him. Any other time he might have bitched about him doing that, but this time he just watches...waits.

His expression is grave and hard to discern as he listens to what Flamebringer has to say. It's clear that- while Wolfwood does understand well that these lives of theirs were just that, lives that are long gone that have no bearing on the present they're now living in- it's something he'll not be soon forgetting. Like Flamebringer, the memory of that experience is etched into his psyche, to the point where he wonders now if the press of his lips will be interchangeable with the feeling of kissing sweetly over the balcony in the evening.

It's kindof fucked up, he thinks. It's like he's stolen away all these first moments from somebody else who should have had first dibs. Ezell, in this instance. And like...it's not like Wolfwood minds, he's dating three people, so he doesn't have any specific hangups about anything, he just...feels bad about it. He can't quite pin it down.

Flamebringer's words are sobering. They help to smooth his own emotions out a touch, a mold being pressed into a more proper shape. If he's honest, this is not the way he imagined this conversation going at all, but they're here, now.]

I'm pretty sure Nick loved Asher more than I'm capable of loving anyone. Really more than I know how to love anyone.

[He is a broken man. His ability to love in any sort of normal capacity was burned out of him a long time ago, and only just recently has he started to figure out how to. He does love his partners, each and every one of them, but the depth of Nick's love was...suffocating.

He has no doubt in his mind that when this version of him died, it was with that man's name in a desperate plea on his lips, that maybe they'd find each other again in the afterlife.

Fucked up.]

Ezell's pretty damn lucky. Hope you make sure he knows that, every god damn day.

I wouldn't have asked him to marry me if I didn't intend to do that. I'm no saint, and if I'm honest with you, I've fucked it up more times than I can count. He sticks around for some reason. Dunno. I wouldn't be half as soft as I've become without him, though.

[He's taking this cigarette now, bye. It's his.]

Look, you've pulled three boyfriends. Three of the softest fucking guys I've ever seen. I don't think you can say that about yourself. And look...

[He... sighs. It's that same tired sound from earlier, one laced with a whole lot of "I don't want to saaaaaay thingsss" like a stubborn child caught in a lie. This is what he means by "thorn in his heel"! This is exactly it!

His gaze slides off to the side at the village in the distance, but he maintains his current position, too close to Wolfwood, shuffling how he stands on each foot. Right, then left, then rocking on his heels, a nervous fidget only emphasized by the curl in his tail.]

It's not exactly a rejection, what I said earlier. So. ...You wanna figure out what the hell we are now?

[Goodbye cigarette...he doesn't seem bothered much though, he's more focused on the guy smoking it.

Wolfwood, obviously, knew about that. He saw the sketches for the engagement ring, so it's been in the back of his mind that the guy had decided to go forward with proposal which like, honestly good for him. Wolfwood sure hasn't been able to reach that point, but god he's trying. Grappling with your unruly emotions is difficult, and he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't sure he knew how to love people properly. He's often not even sure how he managed to get three boyfriends, though they all mean the world to him.

So. Here they are. They've reached an impasse, and Flamebringer asks him if he wants to figure out what they are. What they are now.

Wolfwood sighs, shaking his head with his hands still in his pockets, and takes the initiative himself to move closer, even though Flamebringer was already very much in his space before. Then he tilts his head back, looking at Flamebringer eye-to-eye.]

Not sure I've ever seen you so nervous.

[It's not mocking. It carries more of a teasing lilt than anything.]

We ain't what we were, back then. But I think we can be somethin' different, now. That's fine too.

[He...bonks his forehead into Flamebringer's, very careful to avoid any part of him that's crystalized when he does this, mind.]

I like fuckin' 'round with you. I like beatin' the shit outta each other, and...I like sleepin' with you after. Or any other time, really.

[Wolfwood shrugs one shoulder, his cheeks now dusting a deeper red than before.]

We don't do that same soft, sappy shit...but I like it that way. Don't you?

[Three boyfriends and a Flamebringer*]

Not nervous.

[Said man who is nervous, because emotions make him nervous, not in the same way that Wolfwood might clock from Ain but in a very "I've crossed this territory before and it freaks me out every time I have to do it again" way.

Wolfwood bonks their heads together, and Flamebringer is quick to bonk back, like a cat. He pushes against Wolfwood's forehead receptively, pulling the cigarette from his lips only to exhale the smoke against Wolfwood's.

Gross. You're gross.]

I prefer you when you're a bit of a cock anyway. ...not that I didn't like those sweeter moments back then, but that's not either of us now, is it? If you stop being insufferable now, I'll think I did something wrong.

[Keeping it unlabelled because the "what" they are doesn't fit any category... feels good. It feels like the best option.]

[Three boyfriends and a Flamebringer :)

Yeah. He actually likes the sound of that.

And he likes this, too, he's realizing. Because when Flamebringer pushes against him and exhales smoke against his lips, Wolfwood parts his own to breathe it in deep, the action feeling oddly practiced and easy.

You know what else he'll do? He'll take the opportunity of being as close as they are to close the gap, pressing their lips together for just a brief moment, long enough to feel the warmth of the others' mouth before he draws back and nips at Flamebringer's bottom lip, tugging it before letting go.

WHAT are you GAY for.]

I ain't gonna stop bein' a cock anytime soon, so you'd best get used to it.

[His lips quirk in something of a smile as he pulls back just enough to take a breath of clear air.]

I'll be back to kickin' your ass tomorrow. You get a freebie, today.

[The bite at least gets something of a flustered grunt out of him. Alright, lick the ashes from his mouth while you're at it, why don't you?

He takes a step back as well, the cigarette burnt out to the butt now. Flamebringer isn't one to throw the butts on the ground, and instead incinerates the rest to ash with a small fire in his palm. The ashes fly free on the wind, and then he pivots on his heel, facing away from Wolfwood and jamming his hands into his pockets.]

Come to the tat shop again sometime. Let me add to that piece on your arm.

[If Wolfwood had wanted something to represent his partners, well, wouldn't he want a more permanent reminder of the mark Flamebringer's left on him, too?

Maybe this is sort of like a promise.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket and gives Wolfwood a wave over the shoulder.]

Don't get killed, sheygets. See ya later.

[WOW you two sure are fucking gay for not putting labels on anything. Like my god.

Flamebringer won't be able to see the way Wolfwood's brows raise towards his hairline as he turns to leave. He's adding to the tat, huh? Well...he can't say he hates the idea of that.]

Yeah. Alright.

[He's imagining another flower...that's definitely what he wants to add right? Right-

He watches him as he goes without following, feeling as if a weight he didn't realize existed had been lifted off his shoulders.]

See you.

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EVENT & TDM 022

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