#TOAjuicy2024

[txmehunting]

gods DAMN does sennō need a fucking drink after all of this.

[mercenarymage]

((chaperone time

[deliverred]

Griss finds an easy target, he thinks. This guy's just standing there, kind of stiff, dressed mostly normal except for - as far as Griss can tell from behind - some hood with ears. This is the kind of person who's probably never seen a dead body before, right? Right. So this soon-to-be-fake-dead body sneaks up behind him, close enough so that when he starts to SCREAM like a man possessed, it scares the guy right out of his skin.

"wwaaUGH WHAT THE HELL?!"

Griss leaps backwards when it's not a boring, regular guy that turns around, but some grinning, dog-faced demon, the shadows from the flickering lamplight distorting it into something straight out of a nightmare. For a split second, Griss is completely frozen, eyes stretched wide, mouth gaping, as he tries to understand who - or what - he's looking at. That horrible face doesn't change. Not even when it speaks.

Slowly, Griss lowers the knife he'd brandished and the tension tumbles from his shoulders with one loose shake.

"You got cursed, right? Y'know, I always suspected whatsherface - Poe - was a witch." Yeah, that has to be the explanation. Why on earth would someone wear that? he is oblivious to the fact that the same could be said about him

"Listen, I've got an idea: I know how to fix your face," he says with all the confidence of someone who definitely doesn't, "but in exchange, you've gotta help me get some of that candy."

As far as he'd seen so far, there hadn't been too many pranksters about -- people were socializing or pairing up to collect candy -- but if there'd been any overt mischief, Lukas hadn't seen it in his casual observation of the other participants. With so many people milling about, it really wasn't that strange to hear someone walking behind him, and so Lukas didn't think much of it.

Until there's a sound like someone gearing up for an absolutely horrendous shout, and he turns around to see--

What appears to be a walking corpse. Or, well, a reeling corpse, if he were to get more technical about it. The man is dressed in stained robes and a generous application of blood. And from the smell of it, Lukas knows this isn't the faux blood Matthias was using, but actual blood from something that had once been living. Likely not that long ago, to get such...good application and coverage.

Still, it seems that Lukas had unintentionally taken the man by surprise when it was clear that was supposed to be reversed.

He's about to apologize for giving the man a fright and ruining his own scare, but then Lukas notices the knife and his eyes search the man's face. Underneath the blood and the wounds, he recognizes piercings and tattoos from the man he had faced off with on the archipelago in that fiend battle.

The costume suited him.

Lukas blinks behind the mask, an amused smile making its way to his face. A curse, hm? Well, he was about to be the victim of a little mischief just now, so why not play into this and have a bit of fun himself?

"It is quite horrible, isn't it? To be cursed with the face of a beast," he sighs, hanging his head slightly. He perks up at the offer, the mask's unnerving grin hiding his own small smile. "Oh? You would be so kind as to aid one such as myself? Hm, I'm sure we can't use the standard methods of collection -- my affliction might scare people away, and their treats along with them."

He hums thoughtfully, leaning in closer to Griss, unfazed by the stench of blood.

"Are you willing to get devilish with me in order to obtain this candy? If so, then this pact is sealed and we are partners in this endeavor."

[cielenruine]

“No number of confessions to me will absolve your soul of its sin. Worry not, I’ll send you to the Goddess posthaste so you might be cleansed anew.”

Though the man looks utterly bored, upon approach one might notice the eager tap of his foot. Few are the chances to dress up, and even fewer to talk of the origin of such obscure fictitious character.

A priest of little rapport, only due to his deeds slipping so far beneath historic radar. A man from the earliest days of the empire. While his devotion was of little question, his ethics certainly weren’t. Between the peculiar way he killed dissidents and his womanizing ways, he was certainly a divisive ally. Perhaps his actions even the cause for the scarcity of the novels' availability in the current day

[crevassier]

Maybe dressing up as the ancient pagan Faerghan deity of mischief and hunt wasn't the brightest idea under the Central Church's domain...at the same time, the costume fit him really well. Girls love some mystery.

[rafent]

She finds him later, when her shaking hands have steadied a little.

"What the heck, Rafal?" With an angry pout, she reaches out to pinch at his cheek in an obvious move that he can very easily block. "What's the deal? I politely tell you privately about Griss lying, and you go ahead and help him when he lies about me in front of everyone?"

She huffs. "I went right to you cause I trusted you, jerk! Why'd you have to embarrass me like that in front of all those students?"

No matter who they were, or what it was, any development at this juncture would be one both unexpected and unwanted. But, of course, Rafal would be intercepted regardless on the brink of his repose. One hand raised to horns in the midst of their removal, one flaming haired interruption arrived to halt it, and quick instincts took command. He gripped Yunaka's wrist with a start, then with an incredulous realization at her blathering mess of words.

Really, she'd taken offense over his bout of teasing in view of some gathered students, over a claim that neither party knew to be true. From an unreliable source like Griss? "Calm down. I have helped no-one. My position would discourage it, and I've no stake in who wins or loses, thus no motive. What reason have I to help Griss further some misguided idea?"

He continued to hold her arm out of reach, unknowing as to what her intentions were, and whether they would be carried through upon release. Pinch? Punch? Slap? Worse? This dragon could not say, and it was better to be safe than sorry, better cautious than callow. Nevertheless, caution was not the extent of what he offered.

"I was not. Helping him," he repeated, assuaging his tone, slow the words, as if each one were given time to sink to the utmost bottom of consciousness. "My words to you were mere teasing, nothing more, and nothing less. Besides, do you not think this panicked confrontation of yours more suspicious? That any student would not mistake greater things of us, than of any jeering claim from Griss?"

No fool would take amiss either the warmth of skin upon skin or one woman's heated accusation for any matter of friendly acquaintance. As if to drive home this point, he let her go at last with a light push. Light for a Fell Dragon, anyway.

[optimismxmagicism]

"That's quite the combination of colors," Lukas remarks, mask muffling his voice slightly as he observes the costumed individual before him. Baby blues and pinks -- not something he would have thought to see here, but it stands out as rather cute in a night full of ghosts and other monsters.

He wonders what the broom is for, and if the little lantern on the end of the hat is lit with actual flames or some level of magic.

"I'd be quite curious to learn what inspired you to create such a costume -- perhaps as we collect what candy is left to be had in trick or treating?" he asks, gesturing to the moon high in the night sky. "After all, we only have so much time left to fill our pockets."

“UWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH?!!?! WHAT IN LATONA’S HOLY BUTTCHEEKS IS THAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!”

A shrill shriek pierced the cold night air as a little witch met his match. Vampires? He could handle. Devils and fellow witches alike were no trouble to him.

But this?! What even was this?!?! Ewan wasn’t sure what he was looking at. From shoes to neck he looked like a completely average guy, not even seeming to be dressed up as anything. But his face was perhaps the most disturbing thing he’s ever seen- and this coming from a native Magvelian, former home of giant demonic spiders and other nasties. It absolutely did not help that this person came from a small distance away, the lighting of street lanterns painting an even eerier picture.

“Grr.. WHATS THE BIG IDEA THERE, BUSTER?!” Embarrassed at being caught off guard so easily, he tried to cover previous fright with red hot anger instead. The boy’s cheeks were flushed pink as lips turned into a grimace, small fists clenching. “You think it’s funny, scaring innocent witches like this?! Ya got some nerve!”

Heart still going pitter patter, he took a few deep breaths to try and regain composure. The boy put a sleeved hand to his mouth as he cleared his throat. “S-Sheesh… I know this is the season for spooks and all that, but this is just disturbing.”After a little bit longer, it seemed like the young mage finally calmed down enough to take a proper look at the masked man. It was indeed just a mask, and not some sort of unholy visage.

[blaiddllodi]

"so, they've struck our dashing knight too, have they?" there, by the flickering firelight, she spots him—his ornate armor catching the embers’ soft glow, a glimpse of what appears to be forlorn look. her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth in disapproval, followed by a slow, deliberate shake of her head. then comes a long sigh, soft but resigned. "i’ll hand it to them—i didn’t expect the blow to land so soon. i take it you're in the same boat?"

though the night buzzes with mischief and celebration, it hasn’t taken long for excitement to sour. unspoken slights, feelings bruised under the pretense of festivity. why else would he drift to the outskirts, away from the tangled energy of the crowd? she hasn’t forgotten her conversation with elffin, either. the way his own smile grew weary and faint, the mention of dimitri’s name, the hints at devils in their midst. even now, as dorothea studies him in the light, she finds nothing devilish about him in the dancing shadows, for he has always been honest to a fault—so honest, in fact, that it had sometimes cost him.

"...i trust it goes without saying," she murmurs, voice lowering, "but as far as i'm concerned, you're still an ally. and my friend."

a small smile curves her lips. in a bid to lighten the mood, she offers her hand to beckon him forward. "if you haven't already been booked into oblivion..." comes the tease, the edges of her grin sharpening playfully, "what do you say to joining me for a little trick-or-treating? the night's still young. i'm sure we can make up for whatever we've lost, and maybe even come out ahead. good always triumphs over evil...isn't that what they say in stories about heroic knights?"

It was all so tiring. He had not expected it to be so - had thought that it was meant to be a game, and he took it to hear - but the speed with which everyone had turned on one another, the heavy stone in his gut, in spite of all knowing what was expected of them beforehand.

It felt like another day at court, didn't it? Another day at the monastery, interpreting those subtleties amongst throngs of strangers, the little miscommunications and the spirit of dense competition where it needn't be. Dimitri didn't suppose that he could be one to speak, the foremost advocate for the Lions' successes, but those were team endeavors, out in the open.

Not the whispers, not the conspiring. He worried, sometimes, that he didn't have the heart for it.

Was it not whispers and conspiracies that had rid Faerghus of its last king?

"Ah? Ah, Dorothea."

His hands came instinctively to clasp his helmet before him, eyes flicking down to meet that blank visor before he lifted his gaze to meet hers with a rueful smile. "This is a familiar setting, isn't it? I…suppose that it goes rather against the spirit - "

He stopped, not merely because she was speaking, not merely because she was telling him exactly what she thought of him, the words coming to coil his guts, serpentine and cool before rising warm and tight in his chest - but because he had been about to say the same of her.

His knight, that continuous joke, the little promise they had made to one another - which had gone poorly, hadn't it? Had backfired, and set them along an odd path, neither quite regaining their footing around the other ever again after that.

"Dorothea…"

The hand extended toward him like a beacon, beckoning him toward something familiar and attractive and something that, under any other circumstance, he might have taken without hesitation.

"I…apologize, Dorothea. I think…I think you might find a better companion than myself."

Straightening, Dimitri fiddled with the helmet for a moment before slipping it back onto his head. "I…regretfully must decline."

[dyshonor]

"You have my apologies."

There was no need to fluff about, or beat around the bush—Diamant had been working on incomplete information, and used it to so earnestly accuse an innocent man. All of this was a game, there weren't any actual stakes, but he knew to recognize when he was wrong.

"I didn't get a chance in all the commotion of the trial, but I was wrong about your allegiance, and for that I apologize." He offers a hand for a shake, though his smile is somewhat tight. Diamant still wasn't particularly a fan of Randal's attitude.

"You can accept or not, but I offer it regardless."

-- RANDAL EYES THE HAND with a wide facade of neutrality. He blinks, then defaults to his usual half-smug, half-kind expression. The sort that seemed to beg to be punched.

So this was the infuriating placidness of true-born nobility. He has to fight to keep his lip from curling. Here was the 'honorable' gesture that those who care about such things think necessary. Aggravating. For a moment, he is almost glad that he has been forced out of such necessities and shows of faux care. Almost.

"Apologies? What for! Ser, this was a light-hearted game. Accusations and misconceptions are to be expected! In fact, it would hardly be any fun without them no?"

He waves his hand dismissively, his smile- no longer cute, but spread thinly over his jaw- picture perfect. "If you're apologizing, doesn't that posit that I should as well? That seems a waste of breath. We simply played the game as it was meant to be, ser!"

[twistedisciple]

that’s him. the abominable forestman who’d tried lighting her up like a beach bonfire just a few months ago.

for the first time tonight, dorothea's lips curl in displeasure at the sight of him���at his bloodied form. she takes it all in, eyes sweeping across the shredded, stained robes, the storm of bruises and gashes, and the butcher's knife in his hand.

then, both pointedly and somewhat disgruntled, she finally clears her throat to speak.

"don’t you think it’s time you found a new hobby?"

Who’s this bitch? Griss thinks, but for once doesn’t say it out loud. His face says it clear enough. Eyes flicker from golden head to golden toe and then, miraculously, recognition dawns. She hadn’t been quite so bright when last he’d seen her, but he’s pretty sure now that this had been one of the hapless students he’d chased through the woods. His expression splits open into a devilish smile and he runs a finger along the back edge of his knife, testing her with a couple of slow, toying steps closer.

“Not when there are kids like you who still haven’t learned their lesson.” However thin that lesson might have been, it had still technically been a class. Keeping one’s composure, how to deal with the unexpected, what it might feel like to narrowly escape death at the hands of a psychopath - interpretation varied but they were all equally valuable.

“The way you’re dressed, a killer would be able to see you no matter how well you tried to hide.” He stalks around her like a predator after preying, showing his teeth, warning her with the razor sharp edge of the blade in his hand. “This game’s all about trick-or-treating, but don’t you think it’s weird that everyone’s only thinking about the ‘treat?’ Hehehe, the best time for a trick would be when everyone’s got their guard down.”

Griss lunges like he’s about to stab at her, but restrains himself at the last second and redirects the knife’s point to gesture with a flick at her shoes.

“Let’s see how well you can run in all of that. I’ll even give you this lesson free of charge!”

Run.

[nabataprophet]

some say not to stare into the abyss lest the abyss stare back. this is no abyss. this is an exhausted sludge-heap of a man splatted on the floor like melted ice cream. the gods only know how long he's been there.

from his earthen perch he offers a small piece of candy, nicely wrapped. he does not look ready to converse with another human being at the moment; will you take the gift, or will you carry on your merry way?

A vision—not of the future, but of the past— comes to Sophia. It's a memory of Igrene fiercely digging her fingers into her shoulders and impressing upon her that she is should never accept candy from a stranger. Doubly so if that person is an adult man. She'd taken the warning to heart, although she never expected the situation to ever actually arise in her life.

The person(?) crouched before her is both of the things Igrene warned her about.

Ah. Hm. What a predicament she has found herself in.

He's not a complete stranger, given that they're in the same house... and both of the organizers are also Black Eagles... so they... could probably vouch for this man. Gathering candy is the whole conceit of this game, too...

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't, but... well, she has a feeling even she would be able to handle this guy were he to lunge at her like the last guy. Apocalypse's hefty weight made for a pretty good bludgeoning weapon even if she couldn't cast the spell fast enough.

"...Thank... you...?"

[txmehunting]

hallowed wiener, eh...

[delicatevalentine]

JUDGE JUICY EXECUTIONER

The festive season was upon them! Hilda would take any excuse to go out into the town and pick out a new outfit, but it was particularly enjoyable to seek out something that she wouldn't find in her usual day-to-day wardrobe. Especially a dress this adorable!

She'd had to fashion a few embellishments to fit her vision, and craft her own wings -- who knew that the shops around the monastery wouldn't carry such essentials? -- but once her hard labour had come to fruition, even she had to admit that she'd outdone herself.

[deliverred]

It almost reminds her of a very particular someone’s type of humor: perfectly normal from neck to toe, but on top of it all—she does not grimace. (Not to his face, at least.)

Blinking—once, then twice, but still: the mask remains. (She’s been staring too long, hasn’t she? She should say something at least–)

“…”

(Her mouth closes wordlessly.)

…

…

Hm. (She definitely has to speak now.)

“Ah… hello… there.” (If her voice could be squinting, it would—if only to cover the fact that she was trying, with complete earnesty, to maintain a perfectly unbothered expression.)

“Would you… like… to go… trick-or-treating…?”

Hm. (How did it get here?)

Belatedly, almost forgotten, “My name is Selena, by the way.”

There is a woman staring at him.

Intensely.

She's making her way over to him, but her eyes don't waver and she does not immediately speak up. She doesn't seem afraid, nor does she appear dumbfounded. Perhaps baffled is a better description?

They end up only a few feet apart from each other, staring in awkward silence before the woman -- another bizarre witch, if the broom in her grasp is anything to go by? -- offers up a stilted greeting.

"Good evening," Lukas responds smoothly, juxtaposed to the dog's grinning maw.

Hm, it seemed that did not break the ice thoroughly enough, she was still speaking in fits and starts.

"Dame Selena, it would please me greatly to join you as our night comes to an end. Ah, are you quite sure you're fine to go with me, however?" Lukas asks, though he offers his arm all the same. "Are you a witch as well, like the boy in blues and pinks?"

[mercenarymage]

((yay halloween time lets go

[crimson-flash]

“Marisa! Hey, Marisa!”

Ewan wasn’t surprised to see that, now that the event has ended, she was standing by herself. Still, he approached her with waving arms, the biggest smile on his face.

“We won! Can you believe it?” Ah, so that’s why. He was still in post-victory bliss mode. That wasn’t the only reason he wanted to say hi though. “Also, I just wanted to check on ya! How’re you holding up?” He leaned against the wall next to her, the two making an odd pair. Their familiarity though made this interaction anything but awkward. If anything, it was more comfortable than standing in the thick of it with a bunch of strangers.

He enjoyed the quiet moment for a bit, watching the other partygoers mingle. After a beat of silence he spoke up again, albeit much softer than usual. “I know large parties and stuff aren’t always your thing, so.. just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He leaned his head lightly on her shoulder as he sighed. Tonight was fun, but definitely exhausting too…

The two of them together like this, watching a large group mingle and talk amongst themselves.. it almost took Ewan back to the time he spent with Princess Eirika’s army and the mercenaries. “Y’know, I was really surprised to see you here. Happy too, of course! It was just. Never expected you to sign up for something like this.” He let out a soft laugh. Then, a moment of realization. His smile turned knowing as he looked at Marisa directly.

“Maybe the time we spent with Princess Eirika’s group affected you more than I realized, hmm?” His voice was affectionate, yet lightly teasing as well.

“Ewan. Hello.” She was glad to see Ewan, she perked up a little bit, and gave him a tiny wave. “Yeah. We won. Everything just seemed to come together..” She gave him a smile, while exhausted from the trial and the events earlier in the night, she couldn’t deny it wasn’t satisfying to win. “I’m tired. Aren’t you? It’s been a long night.” 

The crowd used to be unfamiliar when she had entered this party but now the crowd had some familiar faces she had met during it. It was nice to put names to faces.

He was right. Being around a lot of people put her on-edge. But if she wanted to keep away from everything, staying in her own world, she would’ve rejected the invitation to be here, at the Monastery, in the first place. She “I’m fine, Ewan. Don’t worry, OK?” Her eyes lit up when Ewan asked that last question. 

“I guess it did, Ewan.” It was a lot to think about this late at night, so she decided question over to Ewan, “That weird man, Sennō. He said you were horrible.” She had forgotten what exactly made him so mad, the trial was a lot. “…I don’t care what happened. If someone hurts you, tell me.” A beat. She realizes how that sounded. And then adds, “I just don’t want anyone being mean to you.”