#wickedsevent

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Thank you to everyone who participated in this event! It was a blast reviewing all the entries, some of which certainly made us think we should have had a ‘humorous’ category! As it stands, everyone who entered will be getting a special little something…

Here are the winners in each category!

Structures:

Milo’s Anatomically Unfortunate Sand-Peen - “Get it? Because it’s been erected? Listen, we needed a winner for this category. Congrats, sand-peen.”

Lifelike:

Bex’s Dino Dig - “This entry made us feel like we were about to go on an adventure on an island full of living dinosaurs! Which is kind of scary, but quite a treat for the imagination! Very excellent job creating something to fit the environment.”

Weird:

Metzli’s “Death Hides in the Trees” - “Weird, this guy looks kind of familiar… The detail is incredible! Look at all those trees! We love a good tree. And a good Forest God that is definitely friendly and definitely not here to kill anyone. Fantastic entry.”

PRIZES: Every first place winner receives a large pearlescent trophy full of seawater, artificial reef, two clownfish, and a blue tang! Additionally, each character that entered will receive a special prize from the panel of judges. These will be messaged to players on Discord tomorrow! Some of these prizes are weird/dangerous/full of plot, so there’s no pressure to accept the prize IC if it disrupts anything, but we hope they’re largely enjoyed.

Thanks for participating!

[big-bad-ulf]

It’s All Fun and Games || Ulfric & Tasmyn

Timing: Sunday 28th of June Parties: @tasmyn-pearce, @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulf and Taz go to the carnival. Strength is tested. Prizes are won. The mythical dog lion is found.  Warnings: None guys everything’s fine! 

Ulfric could hardly believe he had set foot on the carnival grounds again, but as he’d emerged through the ever-present fog and stepped across the threshold this time, he’d found the pressing desire to leave immediately that had come over him before wasn’t there. In fact, the flashing lights seemed less glaring and the screams of the patrons less grating than they had during his last visit, despite both his vision and hearing having sharpened since then with the waxing of the moon. A small part of that had to do with the fact he’d remembered to wear dark tinted glasses to help with the light problem, but he suspected the larger part of it had to do with the reason for this visit. Rather than attending out of obligation, like he had with Orobas, he was there this time by his own choice simply because he enjoyed Tasmyn’s company.

It had been so long since he’d gotten the chance to spend time with anyone for that reason that the occasion necessitated a special effort. Which was why he’d showered in an actual shower for the first time in weeks in preparation (though, he thought, in his own defense, when eyeballs had been trickling out of people's plumbing the mountain stream on his property had seemed the more hygienic option) and why he’d arrived early to purchase a greeting gift before he headed to their agreed-upon meeting spot. “It’s good to see you again, Tasmyn” He greeted her warmly when he got there, carrying a stick of cotton candy bigger than his head. “I must confess, I did already have to pay the carnival a visit, though purely for business reasons.” Or in the interest of the pack, anyway, which was close enough. “I used my familiarity with the venue to get you this though.” He offered the humongous confection cloud to her, almost in apology for not being able to enjoy this experience with her completely unspoiled, before adding as an explanation for its sheer volume, “The person at the stall insisted on giving me the ‘for two’ size when I said I’d be bringing it to someone else.”  

Tasmyn usually tried not to make friends when she moved to new places. She had no real intentions of staying in White Crest for long when she had first arrived, but between the fae presence and the constant strange occurrences, and well… the people, she’d come to enjoy living here in a very short amount of time. So what was supposed to be her first stop in America had turned into a place she wasn’t quite ready to leave. And while she didn’t really know the implications of it all just yet, Ulfric was a surprisingly big part of that desire to stay. Which is why she was so thrilled that he was willing to accompany her to the carnival. It had been ages since she had been to one. 

She was a little late to the meeting place they agreed on. Or maybe she was right on time? She couldn’t quite remember what they had agreed on. As Tasmyn saw Ulfric approaching, her eyes widened a bit - far more focused on the cotton candy in his hand than anything else. “Oh my goodness that thing is massive!” She exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across her face. Humans always did do the strangest things with food. “Oh, sorry. It’s really lovely to see you again too.” She said, turning her attention properly to Ulfric. “That’s okay! You can use your past visit to steer us away from things that aren’t worthwhile!” As she spoke, she reached over and pulled a clump of cotton candy from the stick, then began to eat it piece by piece. “Wow! This is fantastic. I’m glad the person gave you a ton of it.”

“It’s fine, that’s the response I was going for,” Ulfric laughed at Tasmyn’s reception towards the giant treat, surprised at how much his mood seemed to instantly improve in her presence. Maybe she wasn’t merely human after all, but some kind of… reverse empath? No, he was fairly certain such a thing didn’t exist, and it would’ve been foolish for him to hold out hope that she was more than human when she’d given him no concrete evidence to the contrary. Better to just enjoy this night for what it was instead of pondering what-ifs. Her request had him scratching his beard though, uncertain how to proceed, all of entertainment seemed worthwhile now if it meant prolonging their time together, but none of it had seemed so before. Well, except one thing, he remembered. “I never did find the dog lion. In fact, I’m beginning to think it’s just a myth they spread to lure people in here,” He informed her, caving to curiosity and trying some of the cotton candy himself. It was about as sugary as he expected, but he found himself liking it, nonetheless. For someone who was a natural carnivore, he had recently begun to develop an unexpected appreciation for sweet things. “But if you’re up for hunting a mythical creature,” Ulfric continued, carefully adhering to the human etiquette of swallowing his food before talking for her sake. “It might give us a chance to get to know each other better while we look for it?” 

Tasmyn laughed softly, remembering the dog-lion they had talked about earlier. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call a dog in a wig ‘mythical’, but should be a fun hunt regardless! Let’s do it.” Even having only been there for a few minutes, Tasmyn could already feel the energy and admittedly the chaos of the festivities pulsing through her. She could even catch the faintest reading of a fae, no multiple fae nearby. Unfortunately, she knew it wasn't Ulfric since she hadn’t sensed anything last time they were together. What a shame too- he’d be a great fae. After she grabbed another chunk of cotton candy, she started off in a random direction, not really sure where they would keep a dion? log? Dog-lion. “Get to know each other better, right, of course.” She echoed, trying to keep her enthusiastic tone despite the fact that the idea of opening up to someone else terrified her to her core. Especially when it was someone new and she didn’t know how they felt about fae, about spriggans. “So, uh, how long ago did you move to town?”

Ulfric immediately found himself regretting his suggestion as soon as he heard her question. His move and the events that had led him to it weren’t things he wanted to talk about, not if he couldn't be honest about it. Being inauthentic quickly became exhausting and he tended to say what he was thinking too quickly to be a very effective liar in person anyway. That was why he usually let his natural intimidation ward off curious humans and save him the trouble of having to deceive them, but she waited for his invitation to ask, so he’d try and give as honest an answer as he could. “Sixteen years ago, or thereabouts. I left Norway at 19 and traveled around Europe visiting a few family friends before I got my papers together to come in here. I’ve got a few —distant cousins in town,” the werewolf quickly caught himself before saying human cousins. “They assisted me in finding me my first job at a tattoo parlor.” He followed the trajectory in which Tasmyn took off until he spotted the familiar row of gaming stalls, remembering that the Museum of Monstrosities booth and other ‘attractions’ were supposed to be on the other side, a likely location for the elusive dog lion. “Let’s try this way,” He urged, gently grasping her elbow to steer her in that direction. “How about you? I don’t think I’ve ever asked what you do for work. It must be exciting if it took you all the way to Canada for—” At that moment, Ulfric was interrupted by an overeager hawker wearing what looked to be traditional ringleader garb. “Care to try the strength tester?” The young man waved a prop hammer in his face emphatically, gesturing towards an old-fashioned seeming game with a sign that read, ‘Find out what your strength is worth!’. “Prizes awaited only the most fortified among us,” the vendor continued, “And you look like a strong candidate, pun intended. It’s sure to impress your lady friend!” He looked between Ulfric and Tasmyn. Ulfric had only paused to avoid being hit with the flailing hammer, but the hawker’s insistence he replied, “I’m sure she’s impressed by much more worthwhile things,” meaning for that to be the end of it and resume his quest for the dog lion, but finding himself glancing over at her, unsure how she’d want to proceed. 

Almost immediately Tasmyn could sense that her question had struck a nerve. She normally tried to avoid questions that dug in too deeply to someone's past, so maybe that wasn’t the right thing to be asking. But he did say that he wanted them to get to know each other better. Isn’t this how humans did that? Maybe she was wrong. As they moved about the carnival, Tasmyn listened to his story about moving here, nodding along and shoving the sweet cotton candy into her mouth. When she felt his hand on her shoulder, she was surprised at the fact that she didn’t tense up or recoil like she usually did when people she didn’t know very well touched her. She didn’t have much time to think about why that was as Ulfric turned the questions back to her now. It was not an easy question to answer. She had been up in Canada selling some names to a contact she had. But that had nothing to do with her actual job at The Codfather. A human could twist words into half-truths and lie their way out of the situation, but she was not graced with such an option. “Well, I work at The Codfather as a hostess.” Taking a moment to choose the right words she wanted to use, “The Canada thing was more like … a favor. For an old friend. More like running an errand, really.” She was thankful that their conversation got cut off by one of the over-enthusiastic carnies. Ulfric was right, she really wasn’t the type to be impressed by brute strength, but when she caught his eye she saw a bit of an opportunity to put a full-stop to this Canada/job conversation. “I dunno, it might be fun!” She said, looking at the prizes in the booth, pointing over to a strange-looking green creature, noticing that none of the prizes resembled real animals, “Besides, that thing’s kinda cute.” She added, looking over to him with a shrug and a smile, leaving it up to him but tipping the scales slightly to change the conversation at the very least. 

Ulfric wanted to ask her more about the fish restaurant, find out if she could maybe point him towards a wholesaler who could give him a discount on herring. It had been so long since he had spare to pickle with multiple plagues that had sullied the town’s waterways. But the vendor was still staring at them with urgency, and she hadn’t given him the easy out he’d expected. “Oh, well, sure, In that case…” he stalled for a moment, but hadn’t he said the goal of this outing was to make her happy? If taking a moment to play this game would achieve that, then he wouldn’t turn down the simple request. “Alright I’ll give it a shot,” He relented, giving Tasmyn a small smile but fixing the vendor with a glare as he passed him and slipped him a dollar to play. “You’ll be needing this,” the young man tapped him on the shoulder, waving the hammer at him again. The werewolf took what he offered, barely putting any effort into his swing as he brought it down on the target. Nonetheless, the indicator on the strength meter whizzed to the top with a flurry of lights and clanging bells. “Congratulations, we have a winner!” the vendor called out to the crowd over a megaphone, and despite the ringing in his ears and the ridiculousness of the situation, Ulfric’s inner competitive streak was satisfied with the victor and he broke into a genuine grin. “Here you go!” He plucked the stuffed ‘animal’ Tasmyn had wanted from the display, and presented it to her triumphantly. “I suppose it is sort of charming, in an unconventional way,” he said of the large, oddly shaped creature. It also felt surprisingly heavy, like they sewed a few weights inside it to prevent patrons who lost from running away with it, but he didn’t mention that part. 

For a moment, Tasmyn felt a pang of guilt for encouraging Ulfric to participate in this game. Especially since it was becoming apparent that most of the vendors were fae. Traveling fae in a traveling carnival probably meant trouble of some sort. But this was just a silly game, even with Ulfric being human, or at the very least non-fae, a few moments playing the game then moving on couldn’t be much trouble. Could it? Before she could change her mind and suggest they move on, Ulfric had the hammer in his hands and was slamming it down on the machine with a sort of ease. Her face lit up when all the bells and lights began and she instinctively clapped. See?, she thought to herself, harmless. A feeling of happiness swelled over her when she saw him smile - there was a good chance that was the happiest she had seen him look. “Unconventional charm is the best kind there is!” She stated as she accepted the strange green stuffed creature from him. “Thank you for this.” Tasmyn looked up at him with a smile, then leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. She’d never known a stranger to be this kind to her for no real reason. “So… off to find this mystical dog now, huh?” she asked as she started to make her way in the direction they were headed before they got distracted by the game. 

Ulfric was caught off guard by the unexpected hug. Physical affection had been fairly common amongst his old pack, wolves were social creatures by nature after all, but since he’d been forced into exile he had gotten used to being isolated in all ways. The only other person who’d hugged him in years was Ari, and he couldn’t remember ever allowing a human to come in such close contact with him outside of a fight, but he had to admit it wasn’t unwelcome. “Don’t mention it,” He shrugged, pulling back and hoping Tasmyn would interpret any hesitation from him as just the awkwardness of having to maneuver around both the giant stuffed animal and half-eaten cotton candy to return her embrace. “Yes, I will not be discouraged in my search this time,” He agreed, taking after her. They passed the Museum of Monstrosities with its display of various pickled specimens in jars, some possibly supernatural others clearly pieces of mundane animals sewn together. Eventually, he spotted a podium, with an attendant standing on top of it dressed as a lion tamer, complete with plastic whip and next to him was a golden retriever in a messy blonde wig.

“There you are!” The werewolf climbed the podium to pet the dog, which nuzzled into his hand eagerly, recognizing the kinship between them. “Uh, Sir? If you want a photo with our lion it’ll cost you five bucks,” the attendant protested half-heartedly, clearly reluctant to start a conflict with a man of his stature and determination. Ulfric had to tamp down on a small growl before it escaped his throat. The kid was only doing his job, but the exploitation of noble creatures for profit was one of the worst aspects of humanity. Instead, he leaned down quickly, looked the golden retriever in the eyes and stated, “I will make sure these people don’t mistreat you,” vowing to himself that he’d return to check on it before the carnival left town. “My apologies, humans don’t deserve dogs,” He said to Tasmyn as he jumped back down from the platform, huffing a little from the exertion. Which might have struck him as strange except, he couldn’t really think about much else in the presence of such a spectacular beast. “Isn’t he magnificent though? Thank you for indulging me.” 

Tasmyn was mystified by everything she was passing by on their search for the lion/dog. There was just so much energy radiating off of everyone around her. She had spent a lot of her time over the past few decades alone, but not really isolated. She was used to feeling alone while surrounded by crowds of people, and while she had convinced herself a long time ago that she preferred it that way, being here and enjoying these festivities with someone else was truly refreshing. “By the way,” Tasmyn started as she less-than-gracefully finished eating the last bit of the sugary treat Ulfric had given her, “What is this called again?” After spending years both hating and fearing humans, it was nice to be near one who she felt some sort of security around. 

As they rounded a corner Tasmyn was so captivated by all the foods she was smelling that she almost didn’t realize Ulf run off towards the dog. It didn’t take her long to follow him over to the podium though, laughing heartily when she saw both how enthusiastic Ulfric was and how bewildered the attendant was. She was still smiling widely when he left the dog and came back over to her. However, she wasn’t too caught up in the moment to notice his phrasing. ‘Humans’ don’t deserve dogs. Was he … not human? That’d have to be a question for another day, perhaps. “Truly magnificent! I’m so glad we got to see him. He seemed to really like you, ya know humans say that if a dog likes you that means you're a good person.” 

“Do people say that?” Ulfric carefully used ‘people’ this time to counteract his earlier slip-up. Having to close the shop for the duration of the eyeball plague had left him sorely needing to brush up on his mundane conversational skills. “I don’t know how true that is,” he mulled over the statement. He’d always tried to follow the teachings of his pack elders and do what was right for his community, but he’d never really thought of himself as good, more as someone willing to make the hard decisions necessary to keep people better than he was safe. At times, he thought he was more shield than man… But now he’d remained silent for far too long after what was clearly just meant to be a polite compliment. “I’m glad I can at least do something good,” he shrugged and gave her a small smile, trying to dissolve the awkwardness. “Show you a good time.” At that, he stopped and turned back to her fully, suddenly unsure. “Are you having a good time?”

Tasmyn got a bit worried at his question, maybe they didn’t really say that? Maybe she just heard one human say it once and presumed it was a common saying? “That, uh, might just be an English saying.” She added, hoping that would cover her tracks. But his silence made her wary, maybe she had let too many weird things slip… maybe he was putting the pieces together. Finally, he spoke, and she relaxed slightly. His words made her blush ever so softly. She smiled softly and nodded, “I’m having a very good time so far. I got to eat a fluffy sweet candy, you won me this,” she continued, lifting the stuffed creature up a bit more prominently, “and you looked so happy when you got to see that dog! So a great time, really. Are you having a good time?” 

“Yes, surprisingly so,” Ulfric laughed as Tasmyn held up the odd stuffed creature again, before quickly adding, “not that I didn’t expect to…” in case she thought he meant he wasn’t expecting to have a good time with her. He had a wonderful time at their first meeting, even with the whole smoke monster debacle. The memory of it had been one of the few things to elicit a smile from him in the disastrous weeks that followed. “Good times have just been hard to come by lately.” He explained and then found himself asking without giving it too much thought, “Would you mind if I saw you again sometime now that you’re back in town? It would be nice to know I’ve got another good time waiting for me if I ever need it.” It was a small defiance of the natural cycles that guided his destiny, to try and line up another pleasant moment and keep it stashed away for a rainy day. But after weathering all the foul things the winds of fate had sent his way recently, he was willing to cop whatever punishment they’d dole out for the minor infraction if it meant he had something to look forward to. 

Tasmyn had been expecting to find a fae community in this new town, she had not been expecting to find such a sweet and lovely maybe-human though. Her smile widened and the soft flush on her cheeks reddened at his question. “I’m sorry you haven’t been having many good times recently… though admittedly I do know what that’s like.” For so much of her life, Tasmyn had needed to live from moment to moment. She rarely made plans because plans just make disappointments. However, here in the moment with him it felt foolish not to make plans. Save when she thought her husband was trying to kill them with a smoke monster - every moment spent talking with him and spending time had been the highlights of her time here in White Crest. “I’d love it if we could get to see each other again. The sooner the better in my book. You’re really my first… well, only friend in town. And I always seem to be smiling when we spend time together.” 

Her only friend. Ulfric could count the number of humans who genuinely considered him their friend on one hand, and all of them had ties to the mystical world in some way. He normally tried to keep a polite, civil distance from the rest of them as a species, partly because they just didn’t seem to get him and partly because his family would have objected. The former hadn’t proved a problem where Tasmyn was concerned so far, and the latter? Well, he’d finally made the long-overdue decision to stay and build his life in White Crest, hadn’t he? The half-finished cabin in the outskirts was a testament to that. Though his family’s approval still weighed heavily on his mind, earning his place back wasn’t his goal anymore, so it reasonably followed that he was no longer bound to follow their rules to the letter. “It’s a deal then. We’ll see each other soon,” He nodded, the affirmation a measured deliberate choice. There remained limits to how far this companionship could go, considering the danger both of them could be in if his true nature were revealed, but he didn’t see the harm in playing the part of this good man she thought he was, if it was bringing her joy as well. To that effect he added the caveat, “And as your friend, I give you permission to throw rocks at me again if I do anything to make you stop smiling.” 

Tasmyn grew up being told there was a hierarchy to the types of beings in the world. Spriggans, all other fae, witches, other supernatural beings, humans, then wardens dead last. But ever since she moved away from her village, she very quickly began to realize how untrue that all is. Spending time with Ulfric continued to prove that to her. He was kind, understanding, and gentle with her - things she used to think were impossible for humans. She laughed when he told her she could throw rocks at him. “I’ll keep that in mind. But I do seem to always be smiling when I’m talking with you.” She took a little look around, taking in the last few seconds of this evening. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again.” As she said that, she got on her tippie toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. When she returned her feet firmly to the ground, she looked up to him and smiled before pivoting and making her way towards the exit.

[packsbeforesnacks]

You Wanna Ride It, My Mimercycle || Noah & Winn

TIMING: Monday, May 4th, 2020, Sunset LOCATION: The Veterinary Clinic PARTIES: @noah-kalani & @packsbeforesnacks SUMMARY: Local Wolf Man (and Friend) Caught Murdering Mimes, More at 11 (”Do you need a license to drive a mimercycle? Asking for a friend.”) WARNINGS: None.

Winn had been riding home when he’d heard the howl, stopping off near the turn to his cabin to message Ariana and Miles in a mild panic. And they’d both been fine, and Kaden wasn’t involved, and that should’ve been the end of it. But it wasn’t. Winn was still reeling over Miles having a secret (well, unknown to him) brother, and that brother being in trouble with fucking Hunters. This was why Winn hadn’t wanted to get close to wolves! (‘Course, the voice in the back of his head was quick to remind him, it was nice to have folks worth carin’ about again.) His mind drifted to Noah unbidden, still stuck on the other night — and the mornin’ after. 

But before he could interrogate his feelings on the other man, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, an unfamiliar scent blowing into his face. Or, more accurately, an intimately familiar scent. There was a black-and-white blur ahead of him on the deserted road. Aw, fuck. Not now. Havin’ to think about his stalker was already bad, and now the fuckin’ mime was showin’ up at the worst possible time. He wasn’t anywhere near the station yet, this part of town only vaguely familiar to him. Winn revved his bike, pulling forward. And to his horror, Winn discovered his stalker wasn’t alone. Oh no. That would be too kind of the Universe. Instead, Winn’s mime was, oh God, riding other mimes? The unholy blob beneath Winn’s mime-self was the twisted, mottled form of a bike, the naked hands and feet of two faceless mimes pedaling it along like the worst Flintstones special. The seat and handles were… Oh, for fuck’s sake. Winn would recognize those dimples anywhere. But why was Noah’s mime-self here?

To say it had been a bit of a rough day at the clinic for one Noah Kalani might be a bit of an understatement. From the computer error that mixed up appointment reminders (No Mrs. Seawol, Alfred was not scheduled to get snip sniped today, that text was a mistake) to one very very heartbreaking euthanasia (yes he broke down and cried once the owner left) he had been put through the wringer in more ways that one, so much so that the Dr Choi took one look at him at the reception desk –silently munching on the lunch he almost forgot to eat– and sent him outside to get some air and some sunshine on his face. Sitting there on the bench next to the parking lot though Noah couldn’t help but fidget in his scrubs. It was almost 5pm.  He just had to make it till then and he could go home, take a shower, cuddle with his own pup, and not agonize over the weird Winn situation of the other night.. But of course like always the universe had other plans, and they were unfolding right before his very eyes.

Winn’s brain had scarcely put together a joke about riding Noah when it all went to Hell. Ricky had warned him. “More aggressive,” he’d said. And the, what, demons were exactly that. The mime-motorcycle (mimercycle, ugh) seemed bent on runnin’ him off the road, as silently as possible. It rammed into the side of Winn’s bike, Winn’s tires skidding on the road as he tried to avoid going down in a blaze of gore-y. His phone flew out of his hand where he’d half-composed a text to Ariana and onto the pavement at a crisp sixty miles an hour. (Don’t text and drive, he guessed.) Fuck, why wasn’t there anyone out, it was, like, five! They were headin’ towards a more populated town, he knew. Given the mimes’ dislike of a public stage, that meant that, soon, he’d either be dead or the mimes were about to make the evenin’ news. And Winn still hadn’t figured out why Noah’s mime wa— Aw, goddammit. He knew that scent, mixed with the scent of a dozen or more other animals, but still distinctly Noah. 

Way Winn saw it, he had two options now. Keep drivin’ towards the other man, riskin’ both their lives or… well, actually, he didn’t have much of a choice. The mimercycle caught up to him again, ramming him from the back and almost pitchin’ Winn off his bike. He slammed on the brakes, just enough that he heard the crunch of at least one of the mimes’ bones as it made contact with the metal. He abandoned the bike, running the rest of the way up to the veterinary clinic to greet his friend. “Hey, uh, take this, but do not touch the blade” he said, pullin’ his silver knife out its sheath and pressing it gently into Noah’s hands. “Silent-but-deadly is about to catch up to us. And, like, maybe focus on them instead of me if you don’t want to see my ass again.” Winn kicked off his boots and threw his jacket towards the clinic. This wasn’t how Winn wanted Noah to see the wolf for the first time, but there wasn’t any other choice. He couldn’t — wouldn’t — let Noah get hurt because he was scared. Never again.

Watching as the nightmarish scene played out before his very eyes, Noah couldn’t exactly figure out where to look first. Because in front of him was now a very sweaty looking Winn, his motorcycle, a terrifying mishmash of limbs dressed in black and white stripes, and oh, hey guess what. Looks like those are mimes. Fantastic. Just what he needed. The cherry on top of the perfectly fucked up day. Figuring it was better to roll with the metaphorical punches White Crest was dolling out than even try to question it (because mimes? really?), Noah sprung into action, closing the last few feet between him and Winn (oh hey hello Winn, nice to see you too, next time bring liquor, not not a shitshow of mimes) the wolf inside of him already relishing the possibility of a fight. Taking a split second, however, he looked over Winn, hoping that the other man wasn’t injured or anything, because that would make whatever this was going to turn into just that much harder. But just as soon as Noah finished his visual assessment on the man in front of him, Winn was pressing a blade into his hands, a silver knife to be exact. The thought making Noah’s skin already start to itch. “Wait, Winn, what the hell—” Noah started before Winn simply transformed.

It was near the Moon, a fact that Winn’s wolf was fully and completely aware of. He had time, just barely, to bark out a “Kill your own mime or it’ll come back.” It came out half as a growl, Winn’s teeth and jaw already warping into his lupine form. It was a little painful tonight, Winn noticed. But maybe the wolf was just eager to get its claws into a victim. He flung himself forward, knocking off his own mime, the clusterfuck of the mimercycle speeding along comically and crashing into a trash can sitting outside of the veterinary clinic. Uh-oh. They didn’t look very happy. Fortunately, neither did Noah. The other man was tense — hell, if he were a full wolf, Winn was almost sure he’d have burst into fur already. 

He didn’t have much time to wonder how Noah’s day had been, though, when his own mime slammed back into him, still in human form, just barely knocking the breath out of Winn. Maybe Winn would get lucky. Maybe his mime wasn’t a werewolf-mime, just a really-strong-human-ish-mime. He growled, clawing at the asphalt beneath his paws, rearing up on his leg. Was it too much to ask for his mime to get scared off? Apparently so. The mime grinned, all teeth, but without Winn’s trademark mirth. It was unnerving. And then, it started miming. It was… loading something? Into a… gun? No. Not a gun. A crossbo— Oh, fuck no, not this shit again. Winn’s reaction time, thank fuck, was great as a wolf when he wasn’t drunk as piss, and he rolled out of the way just in time. He heard the “bolt” thunk into something, it slowly fading into corporeality, the contours of the object becoming real. He whined in Noah’s general direction, trying to warn him that these assholes meant business. Why’d his mime get the cool toys?

“Kill your own mime or it’ll come back.” Those were the last words Winn spoke before he turned, body morphing into a full beast. He was hauntingly beautiful like this, Noah would have to give him that. But now was not the time to contemplate just how beautiful your wolf friend was in his other form, or how badly part of your heart ached to join him. Turning toward the mess that was currently trying to excavate itself from behind the dumpster, Noah noticed someone familiar, his trademark dimples somehow menacing on his painted face. Fucking hell, this mime looked like him, this mime looked like HIM. What the actual fuck. But Noah had no time to really contemplate this horrific being in front of him, because as soon as it stood up it was miming something. What, Noah had no clue and no time to find out. Fuckity fuck fuck. Focusing his energy, Noah lunged, trying to put what little knife training he had into practice, but not before the mime swung at him, some sort of invisible weapon tearing at the sleeve of his scrubs and ripping into the flesh of his forearm. Shit. The mime was miming a fucking invisible weapon. Noah’s eyes widened a little bit, fear now clouding his eyes, especially as the other two mimes flailed in the background. Okay, Kalani. Focus. You brought a knife to a mime fight and you are woefully outnumbered. 

Watching as the other two mimes started slowly resembling something more like humanoid beings and less like a collection of limbs, Noah knew what he had to do. And so he did it. He sprinted headfirst towards the obvious danger, throwing the knife as forcefully as he could, body already getting low and bracing for impact. Tackling. He was made for full contact, that much was evident as he rolled through the impact. Luckily the knife had caught in the mime in his shoulder before it had time to swing the invisible weapon at him, knocking it off balance and giving Noah just enough time to tackle. Excellent. Now get out of here and re-group, he urged himself as he scrambled away from, well, himself, hoping he wasn’t about to get jumped by the two other mimes while he was on the ground. 

But luckily, his getaway was smoother than expected, eyes focusing on one thing and one thing only, getting away from the mimes. But not before he saw something manifest next to the pile of mime limbs. It was comical almost how horrifying the manifestation was, jagged nails sticking out of a long bat shaped piece of wood. Yeah, it figured his own mime would conjure up something athletic. Scrambling as fast as he could,Noah grabbed his new weapon, hoping that Winn would forgive him for the change. Because yeah, he wasn’t really good with knives, but he sure as hell could swing a bat. And it was a good thing too, because as he straightened up into a standing position so did the other two mimes.

Winn had about had it with this mime fuckery, and the fight hadn’t even been going on that long. He saw pieces of Noah’s fight, flickering across his eyes as he avoided bolt after bolt, trying to get close to his own mime to get it out of the way. Just for a second, just long enough to help Noah. Three mime demons on one human was not a fair fight, and Winn could get rid of the other two easily enough. He just needed to get there. Winn saw Noah knife the Noah-mime (score one for Kalani), the smell of human blood lighting up his senses as the wind told him of Noah’s injury (ugh, score one for mimes). Damn it. Another bolt thunked into a nearby tree, and Winn decided to focus on his own mime. Noah’s mime was crumpled, momentarily, a few feet away. Winn’s mime had murder in its eyes, the smile gone from its face. Clearly, its memory of the incident with Kaden had left out some key details. Did it really think Winn was an easy target? As if. 

Winn rushed it, snarling and gnashing his teeth. He really hated to do this, but… He dove under one of the bolts as it launched, and latched his teeth into his mime’s leg. There was a flicker of hesitation in his heart, half-sure that biting the mime would hurt him. But fortunately, no such horror happened. He reared up on his hind-legs, spinning in a half circle and launching his mime into Noah’s, both of them rolling in an unholy tangle down the street just enough to (hopefully) give him time. And time he needed. Noah had, somehow, a bat straight off of The Walking Dead, and that motherfucker was currently being swung in the direction of the two minion-mimes. He grunted, landing beside Noah. Time to even the odds. 

Winn feinted at the left mime, the muted fear leading the mime to open its mouth in a silent scream as a hulking wolf-man headed its way, but at the last second he, and his outstretched claws, dove for the mime on the right. It was a close thing, and Winn hoped Noah could deal with the mime-that-who-pissed-itself, but Winn’s claws sank true and deep into the mime’s gut. He stuck his other paw out and into the mime’s stomach, yanking as hard as this form could, and the mime exploded into a puff of black-and-white smoke. One down, three to— Fuck. 

Something slammed into Winn’s side, hard. He rolled, rolled, and stopped, panting. And before him stood himself. Only this time, there was no easy smile, no mimed crossbow. Oh no. The mime had decided to get serious. And that meant Winn staring into his own eyes… as the wolf. A monster, hulking, as warped as Winn was elegant. It was a facsimile, the copy not quite right. Mutilated, likely, by the times it had been thrown around. Its fur was the worst part, striped as all mimes were, lines drawn across its powerful body like a warning. Danger. Where was a Hunter when you needed one?

Finally upright, Noah hardly had any time to take in his surroundings, or address the slippery trickle of blood he could feel slowly sliding down his arm, before a mass of black and white was hurtling toward his menacing imposter, knocking the mime down once again. Winn. He’d forgotten momentarily about the other man — correction, wolf — he was fighting alongside, but he was grateful for the assist nevertheless, especially as the two mime demons started their slow creep towards him, hands already shaping invisible items. Watching Winn out of the corner of his eyes, Noah was determined to bat cleanup (all puns intended) and swung with all his might at the mime Winn had left, resulting in a perfect headshot. And just like that, the demon vanished in a puff of smoke, marking their kill count as two. 

Using this split second of time to catch his breath, Noah looked around, hoping they were somehow winning? That's when he saw it. The grotesque caricature of a werewolf, one might say, striped, lumbering, its back to him, its eyes focused on one thing and one thing only. Winn. It was safe to say Noah didn’t know much about mimes, nor did he know much about werewolves, or the terrifying hybrid of both (yeah, he was going to have nightmares for YEARS). But watching his mime counterpart starting to stand again, hands clawing desperately at his wound, black sludge oozing, no, sizzling slowly out of the edges he knew one thing for sure. He actually did need that knife. Letting go of the bat, Noah dove low towards his own likeness again, bracing for another impact and using his momentum to carry him through. Tackling like this was infinitely harder without pads, but the adrenaline coursing through him refused to let him forget his years of muscle memory as he crashed yet again to the ground on top of 200 pounds of mime. 

Scrambling to get into a sitting position before an all too familiar pair of arms wrapped around him, Noah swung a couple of punches, channeling his own wolfy brute force and aggression to make them count. “Stay DOWN, you fucking MOTHER. FUCKER!” he screamed into his own face, the irony of the moment definitely not lost on him. But, of course, Noah had bigger fish to fry than to think about how much therapy he was going to need after this. Hoping his mime was stunned enough, Noah grabbed the knife and wrenched it out, hands, feet, and legs somehow clambering out of one special hell and into another. But not before he cocked his arm and aimed the already blackened, bloody knife into the meaty striped back of monstrous mime-wolf.

There were things that Winn knew about himself which, considering the crossbow situation, he had to assume that maybe this cursed thing knew too. For example, since the incident with Kaden, he was, ever-so-slightly, weaker on one side. Winn had learned to compensate, and knew that, soon, the Moon would undo the last of the damage the silver had done. The mime, though, wasn’t actually a wolf, and Winn could tell. It was in the way that it moved, the way that it seemed on-edge, even in its pure aggression. Winn, however, was intimately aware of his furrier half. And that was the edge he needed. The wolf inside (outside?) of him was howling, urging him onward to kill, kill, kill. 

Winn clawed once, twice, quickly swiping at the mime. He wasn’t trying to hit it, just throw it off-balance. Wolves were strong, he wouldn’t be able to just tear open its chest. But if he could get it on its back, he could tear out its throat. The soft skin was the weakest point he could think of, and he didn’t have the dagger on him (and he shuddered to think what it might do to him in this form). They went back-and-forth like that, as Winn heard Noah shout at his own double. He couldn’t make it out, too focused, but he could feel the fury from Noah. He wanted to howl in pride. The mime hesitated, hearing the fight behind it (and, oh God, did they care about each other?), and Winn saw his opportunity, sweeping his claws low at the side that Kaden had injured. As he made contact, he felt the mime-wolf tense — not from him, but from a knife to its back. He and Noah had gotten lucky, or maybe they were just in-sync, because the silver dagger sank true. (And Winn shuddered, for just a moment, remembering how the dagger had felt in his own back.) 

But this was his chance. He followed through, tripping the mime up and shoving it hard, on its back. Its mouth opened in a silent scream as the silver jammed deeper into its back, its neck exposed. And Winn went for the kill, snarling as he ripped its throat out, the body fading in striped waves as the mime choked on its own tar. But this wasn’t over, not yet. He needed to help Noah. The dagger laid in front of him, messy and black, and Winn took a chance. Winn made an angry, barking sound, trying to get Noah’s attention, before picking up the knife in his mouth (barely missing the silver of the blade) and flinging it in a high arc through the air. Alright, football boy. Fetch.

Letting the knife quite literally slip out of his hands from all of the mime blood it was drenched in, Noah hoped he had helped in some capacity, the wound in the mime-wolf’s back already bubbling out thick, viscous black sludge. It was almost as if the skin was boiling off, and Noah couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine. Was this really what happened when real wolves came in contact with silver knives? Because if so, then that was the real scary stuff right there. Bringing his focus back to the task at hand Noah made sure to wipe what he could off his hands on his scrubs, his wolf healing not fast enough to really seal the wound, but just fast enough to keep him from feeling the effects of his blood loss. 

Looking around for the bat from hell, Noah stared in horror as it dawned on him. In his haste to help Winn he’d accidentally thrown the bat towards his mime, not away from him. Fuck his life. Because yeah, he was left weaponless, watching helplessly as his mime-self did not fucking stay down like he had been so kindly asked to do. Hearing the bark from behind him, though, Noah turned just in time to see Winn’s wolf form pitch forward, something silver hurtling in an upward arc towards him. Wait, was that the knife? Oh thank heavens, the flying thing was the knife. Wait… no, no, no, the knife was flying, spinning like an unwieldy bullet, and, oh God, who did Winn think he was? Tom Brady? Because he was most definitely not Tom Brady. No, Noah was trained to go crash crash boom boom, not spinny twirly jumpy catchy. 

But seeing as how the wolf gave him no choice, up Noah went, praying to all that was holy that he could manage to catch the knife on the butt end. It took a second, maybe less before the younger boy completed his jump, hand luckily catching the knife with only minimal damage to the palm of his hand. Readjusting his grip, Noah twisted back toward his own mimesona, its dimples still pulled in that menacing smile. Holding the knife as tightly as he could, Noah sprinted forward, using his own body as a battering ram of sorts before he plunged the knife into the heart of the mime, pitching them backwards and onto the concrete for the third and last time. And just like that, it was over, a pile of oozing black goo where his own grizzly persona had once stood.

Fucking… hell. “I hate mimes,” Winn said — or, well, tried to say. It came out as a whiny, half-growl, the lupine mouth trying to create sounds it was simply incapable of. The wolf was… happy. More or less. Noah wasn’t badly injured, Winn and Noah had defeated their mimes, and Winn’s bike was still in working condition. Winn’s clothes, however, had not survived the experience. And though mime magic (maybe?) had kept the town clear, Winn doubted that his luck would last for much longer. He needed to get inside, and he needed to get inside now. If he were a born wolf, he could transform further, pretend to be… a really big dog? Noah could lie. Hopefully. Maybe. Winn went over to the other man, sniffing at his injury and whining in the back of his throat. It was healing. Not as fast as Winn would heal, in the same situation, but it would be fine. He could tell. Noah was covered in mime goop, though even that was fading into puffs of striped smoke. 

He huffed out a noise, taking Noah into his arms and hugging him as the wolf, careful not to let his claws hurt Noah. He dwarfed the man, in this form, but he could already feel the adrenaline running out of his body. The wolf was tired, and that meant, well, Winn had two options. He could hope that Noah forgave him for yet another incident involving Winn’s dick, or he could run away. Winn knew what he had to do. He picked up Noah quickly, carrying them over to the alleyway beside the clinic, obscured, just barely, by the dumpster that had been shoved in the fight, and turned back, still embracing the other man. He was glad, so glad, that he was okay. He… didn’t know what he would have done if Noah had been hurt. He didn’t know what Noah would have done if Winn hadn’t been there to help fend off the mimes. 

Winn leaned his head into Noah’s shoulder. He smelled, he knew, pretty bad, the mime gunk leaving a stench from the places it had congealed in his fur. If that smell didn’t come out, Winn would have to stand in the rain for the next week. Wet dog was better than dead mime. “So,” he said, after holding Noah for a long moment, “I’m naked, and gross. Do y’all have a shower and, uh, can I borrow your scrubs? Don’t want to ruin a nicer pair of clothes, since those seem not long for this world. I can, uh, I can stay here until it’s all clear. Just bring me, uh, a towel or somethin’?” He was rambling. Winn pulled back from the hug, looking into Noah’s eyes, and feeling that same pull he’d been trying to forget about. Sober, Winn resisted, a half-smile forming on his face. “We kinda kicked ass, huh?”

Even covered in the stupid mime goop, that was already starting to evaporate into oddly striped smoke, Noah couldn’t help but smile. He did it. They did it. How? He didn’t have the slightest clue, but that wasn’t what mattered, in this moment anyway. No what mattered was Winn. As if on cue, Noah felt the wolf’s arms wrap around him, a weird feeling of comfort washing over him. “Hey bud,” he whispered softly, hand reaching up to intertwine into the course fur surrounding Winn’s muzzle. “Really glad you’re okay.” Because he honestly was glad that Winn was okay, relieved even. Because if Winn had… No. He wasn’t going to think about that. He didn’t need to think about that. What he really needed to think about was why in the world he was being lifted into the air?! 

“Holy shit!” Noah exclaimed, clearly not expecting Winn’s wolf to heft him up like a small child, arms and legs flailing (only slightly) out from underneath him. “Winn, what the hell,” he grunted out as he was deposited behind the dirty mime dumpster, somehow now hugging a naked man. Typical Winn Woods. Sighing, the younger man ran a hand though the dirty mop of hair now resting on his shoulder, somehow finding it hard to care too much about the awkward predicament Winn was putting him through right now. It was just nice to be hugged after all, and nice to know they were both not going to be mime dinner. “Yeah, I can find you something to wear, just give me a few seconds to breathe,” he murmured in response to Winn’s plea for clothes, not really wanting this moment to end. But all good moments did have to end sooner or later. 

As Winn pulled away from the hug, another one of Noah’s worst nightmares unfolded before his eyes. “Hello employee, and strange man hugging said employee.” The almost monotone timber and dry cadence rippled through the alleyway, sending chills rippling down Noah’s spine. Dr. Choi. Freezing on the spot, Noah gulped involuntarily, not knowing whether to jump on top of Winn (to cover his nakedness, of course) or to scramble away from him. Shit. “Noah, I’m guessing you’d like a spare pair of scrubs for your guest here, and possibly for yourself?” she continued as she raised a small, thin eyebrow eyebrow in the pair’s direction, apparently unphased by him covered in blood hugging a naked man behind a dumpster. “Uh, yes please.” Looking at Winn and then back to Dr. Choi and then back at Winn again, Noah could feel his brain start to literally malfunction. His mouth was devoid of words, incapable of forming even the smallest sentence so he just nodded instead, hoping that would be enough. “I’ll leave them on the counter next to the dog tub, then,” she replied nonchalantly before turning on her heel and walking back inside the clinic.

“Y’know,” Winn said as Noah led his naked ass into the clinic, “you’re handling my furrier half pretty well.” Hell, Noah had touched him — let Winn touch him — while in that form. Winn felt the warmth from Noah’s hand, still recent on his cheeks, and smiled like a goof. And Noah was havin’ far less of a freakout over Winn’s naked body than the other night. (Though, it likely helped that they’d both just nearly died, that everyone was sober, and that there was no morning wood afterwards this time.) The vet seemed chill in a way that Winn could appreciate… though, almost too chill? He sniffed the air, trying to smell anything odd, but all he could for his trouble was the tarry smell of the mimes. Yuck. 

Winn spotted the dog tub, making a beeline. He’d showered with a hose in the middle of nowhere before, this wasn’t all that different. Out of the corner of his eye, Winn saw Noah about to leave the room, to give him some privacy and whined. Wait, no, human form. Words. “Hey, um… Please don’t leave. I mean, don’t have to scrub my back or nothin’, but, um… Just need to make sure you’re safe. It’s a wolf thing. Kinda. And don’t you want to get a little cleaner, too, bro?” Winn winced, turning on the water and bracing himself against the cold, scrubbing at the occasional scrape that the mimes had torn into his skin, trying to make sure that, at least, the dirt was all out of it before it healed up. He reached over the edge of the tub to swipe some pup shampoo, figuring it was… mostly the same, right? “So, uh, I’m bushed,” Winn said, running his hands through his hair to get whatever remaining muck out. “But I need to borrow your phone for a sec. Mine’s back on the pavement somewhere, and there’s some shit goin’ down, and I need to make sure that everythin’ is alright? I’ll explain, promise.” Clean enough, Winn grabbed the huge towel that the good vet had left for them, knowing that he prolly smelled like a wet dog. Hot. Super great. Good thing Noah was used to the smell. 

He shook his hair out, before drying it off like, y’know, a human, and slipped into the scrubs, back turned to the tub. They were about his size, prolly a spare pair of Noah’s, though the lack of underwear didn’t do any favors for him in the, uh, cling department. Alright, first home, take Noah with him, get them both fed. Provide. Wait, no. He shushed the wolf, even as his stomach growled loudly. Miles, Ariana, and… Ulf, whoever-the-fuck-that-was, were on the case, and Winn knew he’d be next-to-useless now, as beat up as he was. He’d check in with Miles, ASAP, and be there for him and his brother. Like a good packma— Winn paused. Like a good friend. Speaking of friends, though… He turned around. 

Noah’s eyes were closed, and Winn took the opportunity to take in the sight before him for just a moment. The other man was built, he’d known that much, but Winn wasn’t prepared for the curves and edges of the other man’s body. He averted his eyes from Noah’s dangly bits, not wantin’ to be a creep, and his eyes landed on a scar on the Noah’s hip. Old, Winn could tell. From the transplant, then. He felt a flare of anger at Noah’s donor. Saving his life, but dooming him to pain, was irresponsible. Noah should’ve gotten a choice — someone should’ve given him the Bite. Winn needed to bring it up, somehow. But, for now, he threw the towel at the other man. “Dinner time,” he said, a wolfish (ha) grin on his face. “My treat. Make up for all of the, uh, nudity. Unless,” Winn added, before he could stop himself, “ya liked it, that is.” And with a wink, Winn turned around to go find his jacket and boots, and lock up his bike for the night, satisfied by the simple joy of being alive.

“Winn, I just killed a Stephen King-inspired Halloween costume version of myself with my own bare hands,” Noah huffed out, grateful that none of the other techs were poking around to watch him lead a very naked man into the backroom. “Your furry little problem is the least of mine right now.” Because yeah, the grand mindfuckery of a situation that was happening — Winn’s wolf form, as well as his dick being out (again) — was really just turning into a normal day in the life of one Noah Kalani. Well almost. The wolf thing did spark a lot of questions, but one crisis at a time. 

Turning on the faucet in the tub, Noah backed away, despite the small wolfy part of his mind screaming at him not to let his friend out of his sight. But apparently this nice human-focused gesture wasn’t needed. “It's a wolf thing.” Winn explained almost nonchalantly, and Noah hadn't even realized those were the words he had been searching for until they were hanging in the air between them. It's a wolf thing. The idea itself wasn't strange, no. Noah had been using that as an excuse for years, but it was strange to have something that usually only existed inside his own mind uttered back to him, and by someone so casually. 

Glancing over at Winn as he scrubbed himself down, Noah allowed himself a lingering glance, something about this more raw encounter different than all the other times he’d seen Winn. And maybe that was because Noah was finally truly seeing. Seeing the possibilities, as well as vulnerabilities of Winn Woods, the other man’s body in various stages of healing, and an angry bite scar maring the skin of his right hip. A small blush that colored Noah’s cheeks. Winn was actually really beautiful in his human form. But he’d also been beautiful as a wolf, that much was true. 

Pushing this new strange dichotomy out of his mind, Noah gingerly stripped off his scrubs, intent on ridding himself of any and all lingering mime. Handing Winn his phone he’d retrieved from the bench before they’d gone inside, Noah jumped into the tub that Winn had so graciously vacated, trying to make his time in the dog shower as quick as possible. Catching the towel that was thrown at him, Noah dried, giving Winn a playful eye roll as he did. “Your nudity is about as welcome to me as those mimes were,” he lied, jumping into his new pair of scrubs and following the other man out of the door with a grin. It had been a rough day but, somehow, it was starting to look better.

[streetharmacist]

Alright, I had a misunderstanding with one of those lanky clown ass looking mothers and they crawled off with my stuff. I'd like it back. You see something weird, let your pal Felix know, alright? Much appreciated.

[bountybossier]

Tu es Mon Soleil | PotW Solo

Nicodemus’s everything hurt like a son of a bitch. His head, the slash running from shoulder to hip, the curtain of blood that covered his face from the smallest cut along his hairline. He looked like a war-zone made flesh and bone, shuffling towards his hotel room like it would actually offer him some respite. The other guy? The other guy, the werewolf, was fucking dead and he wasn’t. Their organs would pay for some rich fuck’s interest. As much as he hurt and bled, he still got paid in the end, and that was enough to make ends meet. It was enough to justify existence. And the coins he gathered on the way back? The client didn’t need to know about that. That was payment he took for himself.

The hotel room was dyed red when he shoved his way in and linked it closed behind him. His heart was running raw and ragged in his chest. Any adrenaline he carried back with him faded as he looked at his unmade bed and the empty whiskey bottles beside it. Fuck. It was too late to grab some more. Slowly, painfully, his body would stitch itself back together. Add another scar. Scars didn’t mean much to him. He lived. He chased the dawn. His pockets grew heavy. Grandpa Bossier couldn’t bitch about that. Couldn’t bitch about much these days. 

No one cared to listen anymore.

The hunter heavy-footed his way to the shower and threw his ruined clothing in the direction of the black trash bag he kept for such reasons. Every day, it bulged wider than the day before. The water pressure at the traveler was fucking garbage and he knew that intimately. The water creaked and sputtered to life as he stood under it, the water frigid against his skin. The way he bled and bled others, he’d need stronger soap. He stared at the shower drain until red turned pink turned clear. Until he saw color and not just rage. He kept the shower door open as he showered, steam eventually conquering the chill as cold turned to warm turned to boiling.

He stepped out, towel around his waist, and stared into the mirror. Exhaustion tapped at his neck, his eyes, his knees. He needed to sleep. One blink. He stared into the steamed mirror, stared at the shadow of himself. Two blinks. He stared at the condensation that ran like tears, stared at the shadow of someone else. His grip tightened on the flimsy ceramic sink as he quick-turned to look behind him. No one was there. He was alone. As he expected. He turned back to the mirror. In the clear rivulets that slashed across his reflection like a mortal wound, long dark hair spread across his shoulder like blood from a bullet wound. Like someone had put their head on his shoulder.

A low hum started. A song he didn’t recognize but the universe compelled him to. A smile grew in the mirrored mist, just to the right of his jaw. His breath picked up, his heart quickened in tandem. The ceramic sink cracked under his grip.

“Who the fuck are you?”

His voice came out quieter, like a stranger in a room on a different world. It wasn’t fear that latched onto his skin. It was anger. Who the fuck decided to bother him? He held onto that thought as he stared into the mirror. The fog continued to dissipate as he huffed heavy breaths. The humming grew louder. He knew that tune. What the hell was it? His fist clenched.

Crack.

The cheap hotel mirror shattered under his hand. The glass in his knuckles didn’t phase him, nor did the rose red that colored his hand and his wrist like something victorious. Something warlike. 

“Tu es mon rayon de soleil…” A voice sang, low and distorted. An old record broken into pieces and forgotten. Nicodemus’s fist cut glass and glass cut fist. “Mon seul rayon de soleil…”

He staggered away from the mirror and shook out his hand. The mirror was gone, glass and blood swirling with the water from the ever-dripping faucet.

“This is bullshit. You’re bullshit,” he grunted, brown eyes blown black with wide pupils. He spat old blood into the sink. “Leave me be. You don’t want me. I don’t want you.”

His roar was quiet, yet guttural. Indignant. A boy made of rage and confusion’s demand. He turned away from the mirror and went to his bed. Wrapped his hand in a damp towel and threw the sheets over his body. He kept his back to the shattered mirror, to the shattered memory of something he didn’t know. In the blood dripping down the mirror, a word formed.

Mother.

A word faded into red and then to grey.

“Tu me rends heureux quand les cieux sont gris…”

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Here We Go Again || Solo

"Any fucking minute now, huh?" Kaden grumbled to his dog who insisted on making the last walk of the night as long as humanly possible. God forbid he just take a shit in any spot. No, had to find just the right one. He sighed and flipped the coin in his hand a few more times. He'd grabbed off the beach after clearing off one of the last straggling karkinoids. It made such a satisfying clink as he flipped it in the air.

Still, only so many times he could do that until it got boring. And the dog still wasn't done. Merde. He sighed again, this time putting the coin back in his coat pocket and pulling out his pack of smokes and a light. Seemed like he was going to be out here a while, might as well.

"You really shouldn't smoke so much. It'll kill you someday," a woman behind him said as he lit the cigarette and let out the first cloud of smoke.

"I don't remember asking your opin--" Hold on. She'd spoken French. And he was replying in French. Weird. His brows furrowed. Was that Evelyn? It didn't really sound like her. Couldn't be.

"Not unlike that poor performance with the camazotz the other day. What were you thinking?" she continued before he had the chance to turn and take a look at who was speaking. His heart stopped a moment and his eyes grew wide. He didn't need to turn to know that voice. Hell, he'd know that anywhere. Even though it'd been years. Now

But that was impossible.

Putain de merde, was he going crazy? Hearing the voice of his dead mother, that wasn't-- he couldn't.

Kaden shook his head and took another draw of his cigarette. "Ici, let's go, Abel." He didn't make it two steps when the voice chimed back in.

"You know better, I taught you better. Never go for the head without first taking off at least one talon or slashing a wing, it nearly sliced you in two." Kaden was ignoring whatever fucking delusion he was having. He heard that voice in his head all the time, that's all  it was. Just him manifesting his parent's teachings in his head. A little more visceral than normal, sure, but that was it.

"If I hadn't thrown that rock to distract it a second before it cut you clear through the chest, you would be dead by now but I'm not sure why I bother if you're going to insist on killing yourself with cigarettes," she continued.

"Fuck off," he mumbled around the filter in his mouth, rolling his eyes. "You and dad smoked all the time. Hypocrites, merde."

"Kaden Arthur Langely. Don't you dare walk away from me or take that tone of voice with me when I'm talking to you."

Kaden froze. Abel gave a small yelp. He must have jerked the leash when he stopped. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. But that tone, it was so-- he would never imagine that. His heart was racing a mile a minute. He didn't want to admit to himself but truth was, he was scared to look behind him. Had been the whole time. As much as he wanted this to just be in his mind, he was pretty sure Blanche's fucking ghost theory was coming back to bite him.

Deep breath. He closed his eyes a moment. Abel tugged on the leash, hunting for new places to sniff, but the hunter ignored his dog, as much as he didn't want to. He'd much rather keep on fucking walking. But he knew he had to turn and look.

When he opened his eyes, there she was. Poised, sharp, and stoic. Ice cold blue eyes, brown hair pulled back in a tidy braid, silver bullet dangling on a chain around her neck. Every part of her, every hair on her head looked exactly like the last time he'd seen her. Well, alive at least. She looked very different the last time he saw her body, mangled and torn to shreds.

"Maman?" He asked. Like he didn't fucking know.

"Don't maman me, Kaden. You know better. You're slipping on your training. No discipline, none. You're sloppy and making mistakes here left and right. You've almost died more times than I can count and if I wasn't here trying my best to protect you, you would have died a long time ago. You can't even tell the difference between a werewolf and a witch anymore. What's wrong with you?"

He felt like he was three feet tall again, just a child thrown into rings with vampires and werwolves, forced to fend for himself and meticulously critiqued after every encounter he survived. He didn't know how she could still do it. "You-- you've seen it? Protected me?" It had been a long time since he'd been that scared of her. Then again, it had been a long time since he'd spoked to her.

"Of course I have, did you think I'd leave you? Just because I died? You. Know. Better. Kaden."

He couldn't process the full weight of this conversation, his jaw just dropped open, mouth agape with nothing to say. Then he felt the tug on the leash and heard a bark. Kaden shook out of it. "You're right, I do know better. This isn't real. Can't fucking be. I'm not a medium, I can't see ghosts. Whatever the hell you are, leave me alone." He turned away from her and kept walking, Abel happy to be trotting along beside him. Finally.

"That's the only smart thing you've said all night. You're still wrong. It's me. I don't know how but I'm real and you can see me. I'm sure you have quest--"

"Bullshit," he cut her off. He wasn't going to let this thing act like it was his mother. He didn't turn back around. Not once. He stormed back to his apartment, keeping his eyes dead set ahead of him the whole time, practically dragging Abel along home. He could outrun a ghost. Fucking watch.

[cryxmercy]

Toss A Coin: Solo

Mercy really didn’t know why she was here, standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea. She wasn’t particularly upset about anything. No more than she’d been nearly a month ago when she’d reunited with Aren. Arthur, he called himself now. It suited him, she thought. As did being a teacher, a professor of history. 

Mercy smiled. He’d called her Frey. It’d been two hundred years since anyone had used her true name. She barely felt like that girl anymore. A girl she barely remembered. Sometimes she wished she’d never taken the gift of the Fury that day. Maybe then she could’ve had the life she wanted. A life with a family, children... a peaceful life. A life with Aren. 

Gods but this fucking coin was making her talk out of her fucking mind. She gripped it in her hand, tight enough that it should’ve bent any ordinary metal in half, but the coin didn’t bend or break. With a scream of frustration, Mercy threw the coin in a fit of pique. It glinted as it fell towards the ocean below and disappeared beneath the black water. 

It was night, and the moon and stars were beautiful. She missed the sky and the mountains of her childhood home in Denmark. At least that much hadn’t changed. The stars were as they’d always been. Everlasting and unchanging. Like herself. 

“I don’t need this. I don’t need hi-...” Mercy stopped short, nearly stumbling forwards as the words fell from her mouth in a rush. She blinked, and repeated the words to herself, just in case. They came exactly as called.

Closing her eyes, Mercy sighed. Whatever she’d done had broken the coin’s spell. Because that was the first real lie she’d been able to speak in a week: 

I don’t need him.

end. 

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

The Tree of Consequences and its roots and pollen may be gone, but early spring has stuck around, which means it’s time for the beach! Specifically, the new FUN IN THE SUN Festival. With a compelling advertising campaign about the festival from the tourism board, the town has become a hotspot for spring breakers this season. Along with Cresters themselves, college kids from all around the country are flocking to White Crest and spending their days (and most of their nights) on the beach. Good idea? Probably not. But those are often in short supply here.

There’s a whole bunch of activities to check out at the beach, including contests, music, and volleyball. Day or night, there will be monsters activities at the beach around the clock.

Check out what the FUN IN THE SUN Festival has to offer!:

Let us see your character’s sand sculpture building skills! This is a contest that we encourage everyone to participate in, as we’ll send a prize to each character! More info on this toward the end of this write up. 

There’s a DJ at the beach, and they’re pretty good! Oddly, they seem to be there 24/7 and never tire. As you’re rocking out to their tunes, watch out for the hypnosis some of their music seems to cause. A couple of people have reported being suspicious of subliminal messaging. 

What would a giant beach festival be without sea gulls? They’re never invited, but they’re always there nonetheless, stealing your fries. These ones are a little different, and are attracted by the smell of sunscreen. They specifically target those with higher SPF, and use their beaks full of sharp teeth to remove entire fingers and toes from their victims. Way better than fries, but still finger food.

Mermaids are taking advantage of the increased beach traffic and luring many a beach goer to their watery deaths. These ones aren’t like Ariel.

Beach volleyball is happening! Fun! The ball is sentient and has sharp teeth! If it’s not thrown quickly it WILL bite you. And don’t try looking for the teeth, because as soon as you do, they’ll disappear. 

There’s a dunk tank set up. You can volunteer to be dunked and the money goes to the local animal shelter. The water in the dunk tank keeps people wet for a week, somehow.

All the increased activity has brought out some of White Crest’s more exotic wildlife. The drunken college kids may write it off, but many are disappearing in droves. This hasn’t stopped an array of fun events on the beach that both locals and vacationers can enjoy.

If you collect seashells from the beach, you may notice that even days after you leave the beach, you’re still finding sand in your shoes and clothes. Even clothes you didn’t wear to the beach. Spontaneous sand.

Some hungry sand has ended up on the beach where the parties at. Needless to say, the sand is eating well. :)

At night, the moon jellyfish come out in great numbers, glowing in the water. Don’t look at them too closely. They’re very friendly with the mermaids and their glow will make you tempted to walk out into the sea where with the mermaids you’ll be.

The nighttime fireworks are probably safe enough? Aside from being fireworks.

There’s a ghost pirate hanging out at the party. He’s very annoyed at how many people can’t see him, but will tell his tall tales to anyone he can.

Of course, everyone is also welcome to make up their own activities for what can be found at the festival, mundane or terrifying. Have fun!

And finally... SAND SCULPTURE CONTEST INFO:

This is your character’s chance to show our renowned panel of judges just what they can do. There will be 3 categories for the contest: structures (includes castles and other architecture), lifelike, and weird.

Entries should be sent to the White Crest Press blog at any point up until Monday, March 21st, with an image of the entry (just pulled from Google etc) accompanied by a description and any other fun details you want to add. If your entry is too weird for an image, you can paint us a colorful description (or paint us the image). We’ll be posting them as they come in. Be creative!

Judging will take place over the next couple days, and there will be a winner for each of the three categories announced on that Wednesday. Everyone receives a prize (an in-character gift with some plot potential), though the winners may receive something a little more grandiose. Have fun, and let us know if you have questions!

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

The summer came and went, and the strange pole shift and meteor have mysteriously disappeared nearly overnight, returning White Crest to its typical state. But the usual carnival never materialized on Vickers Beach. The Crestians shrugged it off and went about their usual business, assuming that this would be a quiet year in their normal town.

As the season changed, the leaves began to fall as they do every year. Only this time they made curious patterns on the ground; something almost like a path. If you listen closely, you might even hear a chorus of faint carnival music growing louder as the pathway of leaves grows thicker. Those who follow them will  find themselves at Cryptid Corner. The old paint still needs some touching up, sure, but the entire park has come alive like it hasn’t in years. Halloween is near and this year, the Something Wicked Carnival is the Something Wicked Haunt. The old rides are up and running again at peak performance along with some new ones that seemingly appeared out of thin air. There are other attractions, ones that even the carnivals past have never seen. Something is even darker about the fair’s influence this year; deeper. Almost like its rooted into the earth itself.

RIDES & ATTRACTIONS:

The Chupacabra is back up and running, and it’s hardly a kiddie coaster anymore. It’s a wild and thrilling ride like it’s never been before. Strangely, many that ride it seem to have mood swings that mirror the twists and turns of the roller coaster.

Mothman and Nessie have been brought back to life. Not just with a fresh coat of paint. They’re moving around and seem to be very alive. The moose statues are taking strolls through the park as well. A few have made it over to the merry-go-round and are not super fond of being ridden.

There’s a meet and greet station with an actor portraying White Crest’s favorite cryptid, the Rag N Bone man. At least, we’re pretty sure it’s an actor?

There are three haunted houses run by mara, and two scarezones run by bugbears. They’re taking bets who’s got the most scares by the end of the season 

A hall of mirrors that inexplicably shows past and future versions of yourself in the mirrors. People occasionally get stuck inside of the mirrors.

There’s a door in the back side of the park that opens up to a room. The only thing there is a mime. That’s it.

A strange man in a trench coat offering oddly lifelike caricatures. He might have a tail and occasionally lose his balance, but don’t mind that. He’s definitely not three saetimps stacked on top of one another. 

The Teacup ride is back in business! Be careful of who you ride with, people have been having strange visions of each other’s memories while the world blurs around them. There’s also no guarantee your teacup will stop spinning.

Carnival games run by fae. Don’t give them your name, and be careful what you say.

Ferris wheel that feels like it only takes a few minutes, but actually takes several hours. 

Test your strength game that takes your strength away from you. Is it temporary? Permanent? Do you need to bribe a fae to get it back? Probably.

The Museum of Monstrosities have a popup with some supernatural artifacts and remains, as well as random mishmashes of bones and other shady things. There’s a sign urging people not to touch the items for fear of becoming cursed or injured...but people rarely follow directions.

OTHER DETAILS:

Please note this is a clown-free event.

The park largely seems to be staffed by regular humans, but few of them are from White Crest and no one seems to know exactly where most of them are from. There are some exceptions -- most of the games are run by fae and the haunts are run by maras or bugbears.

The leaves around town keep falling in path that leads towards the Cryptid Corner. Carnival music plays along the path and gets louder the closer it is to the park.

A thick fog often engulfs the park grounds -- it could be a lot of fog machines, or it could be something else.

This event will end on Nov. 6th, though that isn’t known in-character (the carnival just vanishes). If an extension is wanted toward the end of the event we can add a couple more weeks.

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

As March comes to a close, the people of the town have awakened and so has spring. To celebrate the most vibrant season of the year, a festival has popped in the Common. At first glance, this is your typical spring festival and market. Bright colors fill the area as blooms pop in and horticulture takes over the area. 

A variety of different topiary can be seen from all over town from the Common to homes and local business get in the spirit of both spring and competition. The coveted prize of seeds for a rare tree with beautiful flowers has many in town taken with this form of live art. Little do they know, just how live that art can be. 

At first glance, these topiary figures seem nothing short of ordinary albeit some of them a bit misshapen. However, if you turn away for just a second, you may just notice the shrub that looks like a troll has taken a few steps closer to you. It’s probably fine. 

——

Colorful mysteries are making themselves at home in White Crest. From stands selling vegetable lambs, vampire watermelons, and other magical plants to enchanted shrubs, there is no shortage of life in a town that’s normally notorious for its death rate. Even the insects are in full swing, supernatural and regular alike, have the town simply buzzing. 

Some other ideas for plots and dash:

Your character may notice they’re being stalked by topiary. However, they never actually see it move, but somehow, it’s always there. 

Is your character taking a go at having a green thumb? They just might end up with some vampire watermelons, vegetable lambs, and hungry grass. 

If you live closer to the outskirts, you may just notice some deer that look like trees running around. 

There are some strange individuals walking around searching bags of seeds. It’s joked that they’re looking for Jack’s magic beans. 

Bees??? 

Bees!!!!

A variety of classes are available on agriculture, horticulture, and different springtime crafts. 

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

On Monday, Doris Jenkins falls asleep at her desk in front of her Freshman English class. No amount of poking and prodding does a thing to wake her. Doctors are baffled. She’s in perfect health, apart from a minor cat allergy, but nothing seems to rouse her. But by the minute, her vitals start to dip, her heart beating slower and closer, each breath further from the last.

Doris is the first of dozens. All over White Crest, more and more people suddenly collapse, put to sleep as if by magic. Nothing rouses these sleepers, who seem closer and closer to death. Frantic rumors spread, urging people not to risk even the smallest nap for fear of never waking up again.

And while they slumber on, the world outside is beginning to get a bit strange. Reports of an aurora borealis localized to the air above Dell’s Tavern and a street in the Bend suddenly developing moon like gravity spread quickly, and they aren’t even the strangest rumors. Something is wrong in White Crest and it’s only getting worse…

——

Piece by piece, bodies are arriving in the morgue and the hospital, and no one is sure whether they’re alive or dead because of how deeply they sleep. Kevin is bringing the dream world into this one to create the peace she’s looking for, starting with the dreams of a few, but as her power grows, so will her influence...

Every day, more people in White Crest will fall into this deep sleep, and as they do, contents of their dreams will become part of White Crest. Bees the size of horses, showing up to work and suddenly losing your trousers, saying things you shouldn’t, suddenly having a real exam a decade after you finished high school. It’s all part of the new reality in town. But in some places the rules of reality are changing in even stranger ways -- it isn’t always possible to be certain about things anymore. We’re very happy for players to come up with their own dream changes for plots -- just run anything big location-wise by us first!

But those under Kevin’s slumber will find themselves waking in a shared dreamscape version of an even more disjointed White Crest, lacking the people in the real one, and beyond bizarre. As the real world changes, elements of that world fall into the dreamscape, and parts of the dreamscape will gradually start appearing in the real world. Kevin’s plan is that eventually, reality and the dreamscape will be one and the same. To keep this plot opt in, most people falling into the dreamscape will be NPCs, but if you would like to put your character in the dreamscape, please contact us!

In the real world, progressively, more and more dream-like things will pass into this one... Are you awake, or asleep? It might soon be impossible to tell.

Some other ideas for plots and dash:

Someone close to your character falls into a deep sleep they can’t wake up from, or is possibly even perceived to be dead.

Sending and answering dream-themed anons! Indeed, some people’s worst nightmares involve accidentally blurting out something they shouldn’t at the wrong time.

The dream changes might affect how messages are being sent and received -- this could lead to some awkward or bizarre conversations.

After rumors that people are falling asleep and not waking up, your character tries to stay awake.

The connection between people “dying”/falling asleep and the strange changes to reality around town won’t be immediately obvious -- your character could investigate and go down some wrong trails or some right ones! (Message modmail if you want to pitch something big!)

Someone falls asleep somewhere dangerous, putting others in danger or creating a situation your character can exploit.

This finale will run for about two weeks! 

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

White Crest Winter Wonderfest is here! What does that mean? Until March 1st, the Common will house the following:

A marketplace where you can buy hot cocoa, winter clothes, crafts, and other local goods.

An ice skating rink, with instructors available for lessons. Some people seem unable to take their ice skates off, as if they’ve become attached to their feet.

Ice fishing in the pond. In addition to regular fish, people are pulling up a number of strange things like body parts, fish that seem to be freezing from the inside out, and a number of tropical birds (which seem to be fine, if a bit damp, after being pulled from the pond)

Live miming performances. Somehow the mimes never seem to get cold or take breaks.

A very large gingerbread house that’s big enough to venture into. In fact, it’s a lot bigger on the inside... and did the door just close on you?

Mistlefoe archways, which is a plant that looks like mistletoe, except if you stand underneath it, it makes you want to fight people.

Snow and ice sculptures entered into the contest (more on that below).

Samples and goods from some local bakeries.

Perhaps most importantly, there is the Winter Wonderfest Contest.

CONTEST INFO:

This is your character’s chance to show our renowned panel of judges just what they can do. There will be 3 categories for the contest: ice/snow sculptures, wintery foods, and fun flurries (for miscellanea).

Entries should be sent to the White Crest Press blog at any point up until Friday, February 5th, with an image of the entry accompanied by a description and any other fun details you want to add. If your entry is too weird for an image, you can paint us a colorful description (or paint us the image). We’ll be posting them as they come in. Be creative!

Judging will take place over the weekend after 2/5, and there will be a winner for each of the three categories. Everyone receives a prize (an in-character gift with some plot potential), though the winners may receive something a little more grandiose. Have fun, and let us know if you have questions!

EVENT PLOT DROPS (Looks like there might be some big Nor’easters on the way... enjoy these bonus plot drops!):

Thanks to a mysterious influence, some of the snowmen, snowwomen, snowdogs, snowballs, and snowwhatevers that people are building are being brought to life. That sounds like a child’s dream come true, but these snowmen aren’t anything like Frosty. Their teeth are icicles, their branch-arms are talons, and they have an insatiable appetite for peoples’ organs. The only thing that’s been shown to be effective at stopping them is a blowtorch. Well, good luck!  

Your character is stocking up on food and firewood in preparation for a snow storm, but the grocery store/convenient store is packed, and your character needs to fight someone to get what they need.

Your character decides to stay inside for a while to avoid a storm and resulting snowmen, but they don’t realize a lubber fiend recently decided to occupy their home. The increased exposure to this fae proves dangerous.

In an effort to escape the blizzard raging outside, boggarts, gnomes, amphisbaena, agropelters, or other small creatures are gathering inside your character’s home to overwinter.

Your character decides to go ice skating on the frozen pond near their home. They find a cursed or magic item trapped in the ice, and need to find a way to break it out without drowning in the icy water.

A Breakfast Club style snow-in of a handful of characters who barely know each other in one of the restaurants, stores, etc in town. 

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

A strange breeze blew through White Crest. In a cave of voices, a stranger called out, pulling on the magic in the air. One way or another, it would lead her to her goal, so she might finally understand.

Nevaeh Serenity Jones had nothing more in mind than a simple locator spell. She had done it a million times before. But there was something off the second she lifted her fingers and began to mumble. She had been seeking a bit of money that had fallen from her purse. Before she had even finished the spell, a hail of change, nickels, pennies, dimes, were hurling toward her. With a scream, she ducked just in time as the coins embedded themselves in the wall just behind her. It was a simple spell, easy, safe, or it should have been.

But what Nevaeh had forgotten, as so many like her often do, is this: there is no such thing as safe magic.

--

A number of new horrors are creeping into White Crest. As most spellcasters will notice sooner or later, magic isn’t working quite as it should. Spells are far more unpredictable than usual, even basic magic has a chance to go wrong in disastrous ways. Many supernatural creatures have begun to feel a bit strange as well, as though something in the air itself has changed. The town itself is shifting, though who can say why?

Several massive cracks in the ground have opened up all over town. Many have reported strange creatures crawling up out of these cracks. Those with a bit of supernatural knowledge would spot burrower demons, caraches, maroborers, and terevi mites among them, in addition to a number of other supernatural creepy crawlies.

Many spells and magical items are behaving strangely. Many seem to go haywire and some amulets and charms might suddenly explode or begin doing something they were very much not designed to.

A number of supernatural creatures with magical abilities may find that even they are struggling to control them. 

Mara may find themselves manifesting fears at times with barely any effort and bugbears are having trouble controlling their illusions.

Some vampires eyes are glowing red at random times and their fangs keep popping out without warning. They’re also extra sensitive to garlic.

Shapeshifters might find themselves having more thoughts or instincts that they would normally have in their non-humanoid form when they appear human. For example, werewolves might find themselves craving the hunt while in their human form.

Hunters’ senses are going haywire and some are having trouble determining who is and isn’t a supernatural species (depending on type and specialty). Occasionally their senses are going off around normal humans.

A large sink hole has opened up in the Bend and swallowed several buildings. Authorities are cautioning everyone to stay away for the time being.

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

“The carnival rushing in like a black stampede of storm waves on the shore out beyond” - Something Wicked This Way Comes, Ray Bradbury 

It arrives every summer like a breath on the wind. No one sees when the tents go up or when the lights are first powered on. The Something Wicked Carnival simply rolls into town, settling on Vickers Beach near Amity Road with no formal announcement, and on a different date every year. Despite its quiet arrival, the carnival always becomes talk of the town. It’s full of attractions and rides that few places in Maine ever see. Meanwhile, it exerts its dark influence over White Crest in ways barely comprehended.

RIDES & ATTRACTIONS:

Merry-go-round where the animals really seem to be moving and breathing when you look at them or sit on them long enough. Oddly, some of them seem to sap your energy. 

Ferris wheel that feels like it only takes a few minutes, but actually takes several hours.

Roller coaster that’s a hell of a ride, but if you examine it too closely, you may realize it defies physics.

Teacup ride where the teacups are sentient and occasionally full of actual tea. There has only been one incident of a teacup spinning off the ride, but it still hasn’t been found... nor have the people inside of it.

Test your strength game that takes your strength away from you. Is it temporary? Permanent? Do you need to bribe a fae to get it back? Probably.

A bowl of hanyo (mayo you put your hands in) sitting at a stand. Those who put their hands in the mayo for 2 minutes win a prize.

Mime fun house. It’s just a fun house with mimes. Lots of people love it. In fact, many Cresters would argue it’s the greatest attraction at the carnival.

A drop ride operated by maras and bugbears.

Carnival games run by fae. Don’t give them your name, and be careful what you say.

A hall of mirrors that inexplicably shows past and future versions of yourself in the mirrors. People occasionally get stuck inside of the mirrors.

A lion that’s actually just a golden retriever in a wig.

Face painting! But it’s only mime makeup. 

The Museum of Monstrosities have a popup with some supernatural artifacts and remains, as well as random mishmashes of bones and other shady things.

Yes, sure, there are some normal rides too.

OTHER DETAILS:

Please note this is a clown-free carnival.

The carnival largely seems to be staffed by regular humans, but few of them are from White Crest and no one seems to know exactly where most of them are from. There are some exceptions -- some games are run by fae or maras/bugbears, and the people running the hanyo stand have horns. Weird. 

Carnival music plays randomly across town and it makes people want to go there. For some reason, it’s louder in cemeteries despite there being no speakers there.

Those who visit the carnival and spend more than a couple of hours there there may be more willing to take risks and be in a foul, wild mood for a couple of days.

A thick fog often engulfs the carnival grounds -- they almost seem to exist somewhere else entirely. 

White Crest also has more overcast days while the carnival is in town, covered in a persistent group of dark clouds that never seem to dissipate for long. 

This is sort of a POTW/event hybrid. It’ll be here a while in the background, so there should be enough time to write paras based on the carnival if wanted! 

This event will end on 7/17, though that isn’t known in-character (the carnival just vanishes). If an extension is wanted toward the end of the event we can add a couple more weeks.

Please like once read!

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Invest-eye-gation || POTW Chatzy

TIMING: Current LOCATION: In a conference room at the WC Morgue SUMMARY: The WCPD and ME’s Office are hard at work trying to analyze as many eyes as possible, and learn more about what it all means.  

It felt wrong to move the trays of eyeballs out of the autopsy suite and into the conference room, but if they were going to get as many of these finished as possible, she needed all hands on deck, and it wasn’t feasible to cram everyone in there. Regan stayed in her corner of the conference room, trying to keep her distance from everyone while slowly and methodically pulling vitreous humor from each eye, and squirting it into the tubes laid out in front of her. At least no one was urging her to take a break and go on a coffee run after she failed to return from the last one. “Test tube rack is full. Can anyone grab me a new one?” She sighed, looking over at the remaining trays full of eyes. So many of them. “Any new locations to pin on the map?”

"Mmm-St Loo" Agatha wrinkled her nose and swallowed her bite, looking over the screen of her laptop with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, St Louis. Mark Everett, went missing in October 1988," the detective picked up her coffee mug and took a long sip. She didn't know for how long this all would last, but each time she crossed out a DNA profile, it seemed like her list of profiles to check had gotten longer again.

In another circumstance, maybe it could have been nice to finally see Regan after a few days. Considering Kaden still wasn't sure if that scream was for him or not. This however, was very much work. And he wanted nothing to do with sticking needles in eyes. So database duty it was. "We got Argentina listed yet? Looks like this person went missing off the coast. Reported in November 2004."

He didn't want to be here. Why was he here. Simon handed Regan the rack she asked for, deciding that it would've been easier for him to help deal with the samples than the database files. He remained quiet, content to listen to the conversation and do whatever it was that needed to be done or marked though part of him had a mind to just... mark a big circle around the entirety of the map.

Roland had spent most of the past week at the station or morgue, going through the database and connecting the eyeballs to as many missing persons cases as he could, trying to make any connection he would. The dates spanned so far back his head was spinning. How were these all turning up and why now? "Got Huntington Beach, California. Lisa Claymore. December 1995," he answered.

Cece had kept herself busy helping collect fluid from the eyes, but had briefly taken a break from the duty to study the map. It was just coincidence that people started naming off towns and locations while she was by the map anyways, so she began adding thumbtacks onto the board, “St. Louis. Argentina. Huntington beach. These eyes have been all over the place. Really seen some things.” She grinned at her own joke, too focused on the map to force others to laugh at her joke.

Simon did, in fact, quietly chuckle at the joke.

Regan gave Simon a nod as a thank you and got back to work. It was hard to completely tune out what everyone was saying -- none of this made sense, and she couldn't reconcile the dates with the eyes in front of her. "1995." She repeated. "Yet the eyes are intact. Not a blow fly egg to be seen on them." Decomposition would be far more comforting, in this case.

Touching eyeballs was not on the agenda for today, so Marley had stuck herself on file duty. She'd been doing work similar to this, anyway, so she was used to combing through files for any sort of connection. Each time a new name was called out, she pinned it up on the board, then wrote the name and area on the list. She stuck a new tack in St. Louis, Argentina, and Huntington Beach. "Can't imagine the things they've seen," she chimed in, reaching over for her pen to write some more names down.

Kaden shook his head at Cece's joke. And of course Stryder chimed in. "And they came to White Crest of all places for final observation." He downed some more of his coffee, it was the only thing keeping him upright staring at all the numbers and charts and shit. "Shit. This case is a John Doe from 1973." He double checked the results. "Uh, can someone check I put this in right? That can't be right."

"What I wonder is, how are these things still in good shape after so many years?" There must have been a logical explanation to it, and she expected Regan to answer this question, or Cece, whose joke brought the usual ugly laugh from Agatha. "Cece !" She might have sounded like she was shocked but her laughter told another story. "Mmmmh, this one's from Bogota. He was reported missing in January 1991." Hearing Kaden's question, Agatha stood up from her seat to have a look. "Let me see." She adjusted her glasses back up her nose and looked over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. "What's the matter?"

Roland wasn't quite amused by the jokes, but didn't want to ruin morale during such a crazy time. Everyone was a little worn thin right now. Better to not aggravate anyone though the mention of 1973 got his attention. "1973? That can't be right. Let me take a look." That was nearly 50 years ago. How could they be turning up in good shape now and here of all times? He looked over Kaden's screen and confirmed everything was input correctly. "No, you got that right. That's... How is it possible for them to be turning up so many years later?"

"Lucky them," Marley said, giving Kaden a side eye as she finished writing down her new names. Dates were less important to her, but still noteworthy. "Seriously?" she asked, perking up at the new discovery. She stuck a pin in Bogota as Sarge and Agatha made their way over. She wished Jane were here, she needed someone else here to know that the explanation wasn't going to be found in this lab. Someone to exchange "that glance" with. And she needed her coffee.

There was no doubt in Kaden's mind all this shit was supernatural. Clearly. He kept hoping there'd be some sort of pattern they could see here but this was fucking weird. Even by White Crest standards. "So you're telling me a fully intact eyeball from October 19 fucking 73 was just put into evidence? Putain de merde." He sighed and looked over the file again. "There's no way these are preserved or something, right?" He looked over at Regan and then at Cece, hoping for some answers.

"These aren't typical post-mortem eyes." Regan said, studying one closely. "They're perfect. No decomp at all, even from the ones that have been outside for days. I don't -- there has to be something preserving them. Perhaps they were kept in a freezer for years, until recently. But more likely, this is the work of some compound. I intend to dig into it further."

Jane stumbled into the room with a neat stack of files under her arm and her coffee and sunglasses on her face. She had a pounding headache, her mouth felt like sandpaper, and pain and exhaustion crept into ever step she took. She was technically on leave, so she didn't even know why she was here - there was no plausible explanation anyone was going to believe anyway. Maybe it was to drive the guilt of buying drugs away, but she hadn't been this hungover since college and she knew she looked like shit. When had she gotten so old? Jane mumbled an unintelligible greeting, pointedly looking anywhere but Regan, before going to go sit and start picking through files with Marley.

The room engulfed Regan as Wu stumbled in, adorned in mismatching clothes and dropping files with each step. Wasn't she taking time off? The only reason Regan was here, and not stuffed into her office doing this work alone, was that she thought Wu would be absent. The eyeball in Regan's hands fell back onto the tray and she sank back into her seat, willing it to swallow her whole. She looked over at Simon. Then Kaden. Then Wu. Back down to the eyeballs. At least she could make eye contact with them.

Simon caught the look Regan gave him and he quirked an eyebrow in turn, his own eyes darting from the doctor to Jane; something changed when the latter stepped into the room. And she was kind enough not to bring any coffee for anyone else. His shoulders drooped... someone should've told him so he could've been anywhere else but still helping.

"Yikes," Marley mumbled as Jane stumbled in-- still looking relatively alive. She noted her aversion of Regan, glancing anywhere but her, taking the files she handed over and muttering, "so did you kill the tequila or did it kill you?" quietly, hoping only Jane would hear. She glanced back at the others, then to her board, before writing down the okayed 1973 date next to a John Doe. "Seems almost...impossible, right?" braced for the onslaughts of it's not impossible if it happened and etc. But she'd already turned away from them, filing through more papers. There had to be a connection. And she would find it.

"For real?" Hands on her hips, Agatha looked at Jane from where she stood. Late, without coffee for anyone but herself, and looking like she was in no shape to help. Perfect. She tried not to roll her eyes and glanced at the sergeant instead, expecting him to say something.

Cece abandoned her post immediately, flocking to Jane. “Word of advice? Steer clear of the eye stuff. Not as glamorous as it looks. Take the casework.”

Kaden didn't expect to see Wu show up at all. Hell, he wasn't sure he was going to show up but he sure as shit needed something to do instead of fucking panic. "Thanks for completing that coffee run. Oh wait." He caught the look Regan gave him and considered going over. No. Seemed bad to bring up any personal shit. Not with Sarge right behind him. Putain. His eyes narrowed at Stryder's comment. "Yeah. It's a little fucking weird. Like just about everything here. You can double check the fucking file if you want, though. You know. If you don't believe me," he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

Roland was surprised to see Jane walking in the room, looking like she'd been to hell and back. She was supposed to be on leave due to some emergency and she didn't look like she was in any shape to be working. He cocked a brow and asked, "What are you doing here, Wu? Aren't you supposed to be on leave?"

Regan tried to just keep her head down. Keep extracting some of that beautifully cloudy fluid from impossibly perfect post-mortem eyes. But every time she heard Wu's name, the panic in her chest tightened and her lungs started to burn. "What Bishop said!" Regan yelped, her voice sharp and screechy, just for a moment. At least the glass in the morgue was more durable now. Or... most of it, she realized with a pang of horror, as a few of the vials in front of her cracked. Regan quickly brushed them aside like it hadn't happened. No one would notice, right? "Don't help with the eyes, Wu. Do... something else. Something over there." She pointed to the opposite side of the room.

"I'm, uh..." Simon cast another quick glance at Regan, then did a head count of everyone else in the room sans Jane before flinching and covering his ears again at Regan's noise. "I'm... going to get some coffee." He finished the rest of his sentence quietly, going over and retrieving yet another set of tubes for Regan and maneuvering around everything and everyone to leave the room. "I'll be back."

Jane shot Marley a look, snorting quietly as she shook her head. What exactly had she done last night? Jane didn't remember. There was a bar, then nothing until she woke up early the next morning in someone else's apartment, where she stumbled home to feed her pet step stool French Fry before she remembered step stools didn't eat, and ended up here at work instead. About to answer Cece, Sarge cut in and she gave a half shrug. "Yes. But I'm here figuring you'd need help combing through paperwork." Regan pipped up, quite literally, and she flinched. Jane turned her head, pulling her sunglasses down over her nose to peer at her. "As much as looking at the actual eyeballs sounds riveting, Kavanagh, I'll stay here and work on the case files. Just try to keep it down. Please."

Agatha finally rolled her eyes and headed back to her laptop. Another day of unprofessionalism going unpunished, she supposed. "Maybe we could back to those eyes, perhaps?" She had pulled her hair up into a bun and stuck a pencil in to keep it up. "Carol Griffin, Canberra, went missing in November 1979," she did not look up from her screen this time, instead picking up her notepad to go to the next name. "Germaine Lacroix, Toulouse, reported missing in December 1997."

Winston was aware that they were late. But they'd been held up working through some glitches in the database that they'd been building for Roland. They had lost track of time and then several of the other interns had started pestering them with questions. Pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose, Winston looked up at everyone and smiled tiredly. "Sorry, I know I'm really late but I got held up with other stuff. What did I miss?"

Okay, something was clearly going on between Kavanagh and Jane, but Marley wasn't sure what. It couldn't just be because Kavanagh was on Jane's ass about the werewolf thing. Marley knew Jane's normal annoyed behavior, and this went beyond that. She'd have to bother her later, though, because as she pinned up a few more locations from the file, she noticed a pattern, finally. "Hey, Sarge," she waved, "check this out." Pointed to the map, filled with plenty of tacks now, and all of them around large bodies of water. "It looks like almost every case is around a lake or near the ocean. Or some sort of water. That's gotta be something. We should check in to activity around the lakes at the times some of these people went missing. I bet we'll find something interesting." Like, cultists activity, perhaps?

Dahlia didn't really have a good excuse for being late. It had taken her longer then expected to get her notes together. She had to come prepared. It was her job role it was just as important to keep the supernatural truth from those she worked with you remained in the dark. She slipped in, and just in time it seemed. "Speaking as someone who understands people it makes sense that whoever did this had a preferred hunting ground."

Kaden winced at the slight screech from Regan and braced himself for any breaking glass. Nothing, just a few vials. Still, he shot a look at Wu. Keep it down? Fucking really? Sure she might be dying soon but she'd come fucking back. Unlike him. Well, so long as he didn't have to kill her, that was up in the air for the moment. He went back to the database and plugged away at another result. "Ethan Drummond. Portland, Oregon, reported October 2012. So far your shit checks out, Stryder."

The second Dahlia entered the room, it felt like bugs were biting into Regan's flesh. She jolted uncomfortably, glad that Simon had momentarily left and couldn't press her on it. Between Wu and Dahlia and the risk of breaking more glassware when they really needed every last piece they could get, Regan wasn't sure this was the best idea. But Stryder's comment gave her pause. "I think you're right. I mean, based on the map, I know you are." She considered. "Do you think the cultists wanted their eyes?"

Roland didn't want to push Jane any further in front of everyone else. Her arriving out of sorts could be addressed later. He understood the need to work through a crisis, but perhaps a group setting wasn't the best idea. He ignored it and plugged away at the database, when Stryder called him over. He looked over the map and every pin was near some body of water. "Strange," he mused, "That does seem like it could be cultist, taking eyes near a body of water. Can't say I've ever heard of anything like it though." There had to be some other connection in the database. Were these happening around a certain time? What were the ages of the individuals? These were connections that needed to be made. "Good eye," he told Marley, grimacing as he realized his wording may not have been entirely appropriate.

"It's within reason for that to be assumed," Marley said, rubbing her chin as she examined the map, blocking out the useless chatter. "We've seen other radical behaviors from cults, though collecting human body parts has never really been one. Cults usually have more of a set of goals and rules, though it's not unheard of a cult leader to convince their subjects to do things they'd never consider themselves." She stuck another pin in when Keen piped up, but did not take her eyes from the map. "What's the database looking like, Keen?" she asked, finally turning away.

"It could be a cult," Agatha stood up from her chair once again, this time heading to where Marley stood. "You said that it's connected to the water," she held a finger up, checking the dates on Marley's pins. It couldn't be a coincidence. All these people, they had been reported missing either in October, November, December or January. No one in the spring or summer. "Okay, so. The years don't check out, but all these people disappeared somewhere between October and January. We all know how sometimes things are reported way too late," she trailed off. "Maybe we could narrow it down a bit. I think it's safe to assume, considering how little of them were reported in January, that they all disappeared in the last third of the year."

"Not that unlikely though, not if the eyes were part of a ritual, or something to show alligiance to the leader," Dahlia chimed in. A cult would be a good cover regardless of whether it was the truth or not. "I've studied and written about them before, I can find my old notes." She began pulling out her laptop, letting then carry on talking about all things detective.

Kaden continued to work away at the database while the detectives chatted. His brow furrowed when the results came up. "This one's recent." It was right around when he came to White Crest. "Last seen date was October 2, 2019. Shit." He felt a pit drop in his stomach. "Officer Kim McPhee. Last seen headed towards the Drop Off. On an animal control assignment." Kaden stared at the file. This was who he replaced. She was-- He could be next. Just as quickly. He was going to be sick. It was easier to have distance with the other names that came up. The ones from years ago. Suddenly it felt very real.

Simon slipped in almost as easily as he left in the first place, carrying two large bags rather easily all things considered and muttered an apology, presumably for the noise he made temporarily as he pulled out several drink carriers of coffee and managed to find places for each of them on the tables for people to reach - and he made sure he got enough for everyone to have at least one. He folded up the bags neatly, apologising again and he awkwardly made his way back over near Regan's desk, crossing is arms as he leaned against the wall and picked up where he left off to observe the rest of the team's findings - looked like they got a lead.

Marley shot a look at Dahlia. "I'm well aware of what cult leaders can influence their subjects to do. I did study human behavior, after all," she said, "lengthily." She turned to focus back on the dates with Agatha. "That's good. Maybe narrow it down somehow? Can we cross check reports to see how long people were missing before they were reported?"

Eventually, Cece found her way back to her original job. Collecting samples from the eyes. For whatever reason, Regan seemed to have beef with Jane. Which was probably the most interesting development at this shindig. Collecting the fluids felt like a waste of time anyways. At this point, it was pretty obvious that this was supernatural. Cece could run every test available on every single eye they had collected and they still probably wouldn’t find anything. It seemed obvious which people here still didn’t want to believe in the supernatural and which had resigned themselves to that fact already. But at least the cult talk was some sort of middle ground for the group. “It’s a lot of eyes. A cult could explain how so many eyes got here. Not like cults need any logical reason for the crazy shit they do.”

Actually, a cult wasn't that outlandish by any means. "People could have be being sacrificed between October and January to... whatever it is they believe. That makes sense. How all their eyes ended up here, however..." Jane mused, considering a moment. Her gaze snapped to Kaden, though, brows knitting together when he mentioned the animal control officer that went missing last October. Considering recent screaming circumstances, it probably wasn't a good thing to think about. Her head was pounding, and she just shook her head. "I'll start cross referencing reported dates to when the victims were last seen," Jane said, leaning forward to pull a stack of files towards her.

"I can run all of these reports through various pattern recognition algorithms and see if there is any combination of dates, locations, demographics, age, gender, socio-economic background, we can really narrow everything down if you can give me the specific information on it." As Winston spoke they tapped away at their laptop. "The more information that we can get on the database the easier it will be to develop some level of correlational analysis."

The last animal control officer went missing. That information chilled her marrow, and Regan looked over at Kaden. It was rare that he looked so shaken, and she wanted to help, but that seemed like a poor idea given everyone else in the room with them right now, and the professional setting. Still... "Kaden." Regan said, taking a very short break from the tray of eyes in front of her. "We're going to prevent this from happening to others." They had to, right? What else were they good for if they couldn't protect? "There are far too many eyes here for one individual to be responsible, and that's ignoring the -- well --" the motioned over toward the map, stuffed full of pins. "A cult makes sense. Bishop, I'd like the two of us to proceed with testing the eyes for any uncommon drug presence. I know we ran the standard tox panels, but I'd like some ELISAs run for preservatives. Substances not usually found in decedents."

Roland gave Winston an approving look as he walked back over to his own laptop. A cult or some other sort of group made the most sense with the sheer volume of eyes they had to go through. Either way, there was a pattern there with the time of year that he wasn't surprised Keen had picked up on. "Good catch, Keen. Here are some to start inputting, Winston." He pushed his own stack of finished files with his updated notes over to them.

Agatha looked from the pinboard to Jane, arms crossed over her chest. Her stance relaxed as the detective agreed with her, although, just like her, she reacted to Kaden's words. She had known Kim, and her going missing had shaken up the station quite a lot back then. Agatha went back to her seat and shot Winston a small smile as she did. Considering what had just been said, she didn't feel too cheerful. "You can add those to the Sergeant's," she told them, sliding her stack across the table, with a chocolate donut on top. "I'll help you with that, Jane," she too went to grab a stack of files and before starting to get to worked, she mouthed at her a "Are you ok?" She might not have been too happy with her earlier, she could tell something was off.

Jane started flipping through files and reports, nodding at Agatha as she joined her. She saw her attempt to checking, and Jane almost laughed outright - not because Keen had said something funny by any means, but because it was just funny that Jane had even bothered to show up. She made a note on her computer, before glancing back at Agatha. "Well, I'm still alive, so." Jane replied in a low voice, chuckling humorlessly to herself as started combing over another file.

Kaden thought about getting up and leaving. To do... what, exactly? Fuck. The last thing he wanted to do was collect the fluids from the eyeballs, wondering what sort of connections he may or may not have to any of those while looking at them. But he couldn't take the result off of his screen just yet. He looked up at Regan and all he could manage was a nod. "Yeah. Well. That's the plan, at least." No single police unit or hell, any police unit was going to be able to figure out shit about whatever supernatural crap was going on here. Let alone prevent it. So hardly a comforting thought. "The cultists on the beach and the lake, they all seem to have their eyes sewn shut. You think these belong to any of them maybe? Like they ran away from home, gouged out their own eyes or something?" It sure sounded crazy but with the supernatural involved, likely not the craziest way to lose an eyeball.

Winston set to work with the new information that Roland had provided them with. They were apprehensive about the WCPD becoming heavily embroiled with anything related to the cult. After all they had already demonstrated that they were willing and capable to hurt others if it suited them. Winston just hoped that whatever they had done with all of these people wasn't too heavily supernatural. After all, there were plenty of officers that weren't going to be able to play nicely with that. "Thanks Agatha," Winston replied taking the doughnut appreciatively and typing as quick as they could, "there have been reports that the cult is operating out of the lake, but do we know if there is any leads as to where they have their headquarters set up?"

The janitor part of Simon was acting up, despite everything else that was going on around him with their findings of cults and eyes and dates and stuff - so he did what he would've done anyway and picked up some MORE glass that Regan broke. As he moved over to collect the broken vial on her desk, noting her break to address Kaden and reached over the trey of eyes, one of them vibrated before lifting and clinging to his hand as if the two were magnetized. Well, this was new. Doing his best to not freak out about it, he subtly placed his fingers around the eye and attempted to pull it off but as he applied pressure, something flashed before his eyes. A big flash, a sign - the White Crest sign, sitting there before exploding in a dazzle of... magic? He had only seen magic utilized a few times before this point but never like this. The sign splintered, crackling like electricity and he flinched away from it as a shard of wood propelled itself towards him, holding his hands up to shield his face from it like it was actually happening and backing into the wall roughly.

Regan wanted to tell Simon to forget about the broken glass, she'd get it later, but before she could say anything, one of the eyeballs seemed to propel itself toward Simon's hand. It slithered around before settling itself into his flesh, and Regan jumped up from her seat, a screech forming in her lungs and emptying from her throat in a split second. The rest of the tubes in front of her shattered but, more importantly, Simon was writhing around, trying to yank the eye from his hand, but it was like it was glued on there, and for a moment, his eyes flipped in and out of focus like he was elsewhere. Backed himself into the wall covered in sweat. Regan bounded toward him, less concerned about helping him up than she was about carefully extricating the eye from his hand in one piece. She gave it a tug, and it popped off, though part of her thought it might not have been anything she had done. Regan gave it a close inspection before plopping it back onto the tray. Blinked at the eye, the broken glass, and Simon. Then looked around the room. This was fine. None of that just happened. More hallucinations. "Um, did you trip? Over something?"

Cece nodded at Regan. Just as expected. She would run the tests. Most likely, nothing would come back from it, but why the hell not? Better to just run the tests like the Doc instructed. She was working on another eye when she noticed the eye attach itself to Simon. Cece’s head tilted curiously, watching the scene as it seemed be absorbed into Simon’s skin. She stood back, examining it silently until Simon started moving around. What the hell was that? She moved closer to him, mumbling under her breath so maybe only he and Regan, who seemed to have noticed the moment too, could hear. “You alright dude? What… just happened?”

As Winston watched Simon's eye pulled from his hand, even though it wasn't actually his eye, Winston couldn't help but feel a shiver run down their spine. The eye in their own hand itched and Winston looked from Cece to Regan to Simon and then down to their own hand. Pulling the sleeve of their hoodie over their hand. "Woah, what happened?" they said as they tried to act like they couldn't put it all together, "There's broken glass we should probably try and clean that up and did something happen with that ... eye?"

Simon hadn't quite recovered from what he saw when suddenly Regan screamed again and he whimpered this time, breathing quickly as his other hand covered the ear it could reach. Though he was far from surprised and not paying all that much attention, Regan seemed more focused on the eye than him. Once it was off, he pulled the hand that the eye stuck to close to his body, shaking his head erratically as if trying to get rid of the scream that made his ears ring. "I-I don't know," He murmured to Cece, managing to hear her question though the noise. "There was-- the uh... White Crest sign and it- it blew up." He stuttered. "I don't-- it was there and then-then it... wasn't."

Everything happened before Marley could get a grip on anything. Her hands immediately went up to her ears as the scream shattered the glass vials in front of Regan. Whatever had happened to the weird janitor dude, which, why was he here, anyway? Wasn't this police work? Not that Marley cared, really. Everyone was gathering around him now, but something struck a chord in Marley's brain, her mind churning. A banshee had screamed for Jane. Jane was mad at Regan. Regan had just screamed at an ungodly decibel. The only conclusion-- Regan was the banshee that had screamed for Jane. Fuck how had she not noticed? She turned back to look at Jane, one brow raised. "Twice in one week," she muttered to her, "hopefully you don't lose your hearing before you die..." and pinned another tack on the board in white crest. For Kim McPhee.

"... Dude, what the hell," Agatha her fingers rubbing her ear, looked at Regan from over her glasses with an eyebrow raised. What was going on over there? Did ... Simon pick up an eye? Was he stealing an eye? Whatever had happened, it seemed like the medical examiner was handling it, but clearly, screeching like this was not necessary. "You should go get some fresh air, Doctor," she observed, going back to her computer, trying to ignore the ringing in her ears. "So... I already have 4 people who stopped being seen in October," looking up from her notepad, she glanced over at Jane. "What do you have?"

Kaden almost missed the fact that Simon was having some kind of issue because all he heard was another fucking scream and his hands shot to his ears while he let out a few choice curse words in couple languages. What a great fucking time to have sensitive hearing. It was nowhere near as bad as Brimm Stonne Court but putain. He looked back to see what the fuck had happened, rubbing his ears a bit as if it could dull the ringing. "The fuck was that?" He considered getting a dig in but it seemed like a bad fucking idea with Regan and Hills in the room. Not worth it. His eyes narrowed as he described the sign. "You saw something?" But he was a werewolf. Those didn't get visions. Couldn't be for that. He crossed the room to Cece. "Might want to check that one for more than just fluids," he whispered to her, hoping she caught the potential connection, too. The potential magical one. "Seems like it might have belonged to someone unusual."

Fresh air. Right. That hadn't been a hallucination, had it? Regan didn't make eye contact with anyone as she peeled out of the room. Wait. They were in the morgue. Her morgue. She backed up. "Bishop. You're in charge." She darted out of the conference room again and ran down the hall for her office to catch her breath, to will the panic to subside and her lungs to stop feeling so tight. And, if it were even possible, to stop the image of trays full of eyeballs from burning into her retinas.

Jane let out a loud curse as Regan screamed again, hands clamping over her ears. "What did I just say?!" She hissed. At least it was less catastrophic than the last time. Her ears ringing again for just a moment, she shook her head, the pounding in her head getting worse as people flocked around Simon. Something had happening, but she had missed it while her nose was in her files. Regan and Cece and everyone else that wasn't her was handling it. Good. She glanced to Agatha, brows knitting together. "Mine stopped being seen in October too," Jane replied. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Goddamn it. Whatever this was, supernatural or not, screaming banshees or not. "This," she mumbled to herself, "Is the bad place."

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

The residents of White Crest have long since accepted that when they look up at the sky in the morning, they can’t always expect to see a typical sunrise. Sometimes the sky is red, sometimes there’s fish raining from it, sometimes the sun just never shows up. When they wake up tomorrow, however, Cresters will be greeted with a sun. Just not the one they’re used to. Upon closer inspection, the sun looks an awful lot like a giant eyeball. Not that it’s possible.

The beach once again seems to be the center of controversy. Reports are claiming that the ocean has gone black and eyeballs have washed up on shore. And there are people in hoods with their eyes sewn shut lining up along the shores, chanting and refusing to leave.

Your character might notice or experience any of the following over the course of the next week or so:

The sun is now a giant eyeball. Every hour on the hour, the town is plunged into darkness for a few seconds as it blinks. This only seems to be happening within White Crest’s town borders. Yes, you have to stare at the sun to be able to tell that it’s an eyeball. Have fun.

The ocean surrounding the town is now black. It looks oddly like squid ink. Touching it will stain that part of your skin black for a little while -- just like ink. Hmm.

Eyeballs are washing up on shore. And sometimes coming out of some people’s sinks and showers. 

More strange markings like the ones seen in January and the ones seen around the lake have shown up around the town. This time they’re drawn with what looks like dried blood.

The hooded cultists with eyes sewn shut and eyes in their hands are chanting in a demonic language while guarding the shores of the ocean and Dark Score Lake. They won’t let anyone pass.

Random people have found eyeballs on different parts of their body. Hands, shoulders, knees, and toes. The eyeballs will open and look around at random times. Anyone who finds one might feel the urge to visit the beach every now and then and join in on the chanting.

Many have reported nightmares of giant eyes and deep dark depths along with screams of the masses.

A mysterious beacon of light can be seen from somewhere off in the Outskirts whenever the eye blinks shut...

Like once you’ve read!