[ OPEN ] dog days are over

[tryhard]

Who: Waver Velvet & YOU!
When: throughout Aguril
Where: around Aefenglom, potentially some in the Wilde or the Underground
What: Waver has a no good, very bad, very awkward month. event, quests and shenanigans
Warnings: will add as needed


→ i. OPEN: Lùnasa, Aguril 1-3; poppin' parties, badly

→ ii. OPEN: Aguril 4-20; a horse corpse, of course; aka, the damsel in distress


Open and closed starters in the comments! Please let me know via PM or at gunsandchocolate if you want to plot something out or want me to set up a starter for you. Wildcards welcome!

Paragraph prose-style or brackets are both fine, so please feel free to tag in whatever style you prefer and I'll match you. :>

Comments

OPEN: poppin' parties

[tryhard]

Oh, no, I don't-- No, thank you!

[ Waver has to raise his voice above the laughter, shouting and music as an overly enthusiastic wolflike Turnskin tries to cajole him (loudly) into joining the dance that a bunch of the party-goers are participating in. It seems to involve all of them forming haphazard lines up and down and spinning around their partners, trading them back and forth. There's a lot of touching and a lot of strangers and Waver doesn't even know who this party is for. ]

I'm telling you, I don't know how to dance!

[ Desperately, Waver casts around for anyone nearby who looks like they might be able to get him out of this situation. ]

A-and I already have plans with someone else! See?

[ He makes eye contact with someone. Please save him. ]

[bloodwit]

[ —oh. ]

[ viren's luckier; being a dragon, he's strongly-built enough that most hadn't taken to trying to forcibly rope him into dancing (that, and his resting bitch face tended to deter interaction). he sips his drink, only becoming aware of waver within the fanfare when he registers the familiar pitch of his voice.

his eyebrows arc as eye contact is made. a crueler part of him is tempted to conspicuously shake his head in denial (as some petty vengeance for their past interactions); the thought brings a smirk to his expression. but. the turnskin had thought to speak with him about inkchanted, the merits of magical tattoos for monsters. that warranted something, he can explain to himself. ]

That's right.

[ he announces, with a strong voice; viren steps forward, offers his hand out to waver. though, his tone is dry, ]

This one is with me.

[tryhard]

[ Viren is certainly not his first choice, but it's not like he recognizes anyone else nearby. He panicked, okay?

Thankfully, it seems to have paid off. For now. ]

Th-that's right!

[ Waver grabs the offered hand. Slightly tipsy and very awkward, he quickly makes his escape toward Viren, practically hiding behind the dragon. ]

I'm busy, so I can't. Okay?

[ His hopeful dance partner's expression darkens into a scowl. She crosses her well-muscles arms over his chest with a grunt. But there's not much she can do if the boy's not interested, and with someone else on top of it. She sighs, mutters something about it being nice to have met him anyway, and wanders off to find someone more enthusiastic.

Waver groans, shoulders slumping. He's still accidentally holding Viren's hand. ]

[bloodwit]

[ viren, for the most part, allows this to happen; his wings reshuffle on his back, tail giving a flick. his expression doesn't lighten from his own scowl until ms. hopeful dance partner is well on her way elsewhere. ]

[ they're granted just a moment of reprieve. viren peeks slightly over his shoulder, to where waver has nearly hidden myself. ]

[ and then he'll look down, slowly, pointedly, toward the hand that remains in his own. ]

[ranyaulf]

Huh?

( listen, the last thing he expects is to be singled out by what looks to be a turnskin (because there are no dog laguz, unfortunately) with the cutest ears? he's half-amused and half-surprised by waver's choice of alibi, and he folds his arms across his chest... )

Hey, I was wondering where you went!

( with a wide smile, ranulf quickly bounces over on the balls of his feet. placing a hand on waver's shoulder, he gives the other turnskin a wink. )

Thanks for finding him for me. There's so many people dancing around here, you know?

( quietly pulls on waver... come on buddy, let's go somewhere less congested. )

[tryhard]

Er... right! There you are!

[ Sorry, man. He's desperate! And maybe a little drunk.

Relieved that someone is playing along for now (and hoping it won't turn into another issue... something he hadn't considered until now, oops), Waver allows the hand on his shoulder and even leans a bit closer to the stranger.

It's faint, but there's something familiar about him. A scent...

The Turnskin woman who'd been hoping to drag Waver into the dance apologizes and turns away, and Waver follows along where he's pulled, happy to get away from the dancing. ]

Haah... Thanks. That was so awkward! Some people are so pushy...

[ranyaulf]

( honestly, ranulf's just glad he made the right move--- not that his intuition hasn't failed him yet so far. and honestly? there's something oddly familiar about waver! maybe it's the hair color? maybe it's the reaction... it reminds him of a particular dragon that waver is probably getting a whiff of. one that would bristle at even approaching a party, and probably wouldn't have been merciful toward those who would push him in a certain direction. )

Seems that way. ( with another pat, ranulf laughs politely. ) But everyone looks like they're having a fun time... I'm kinda jealous.

( his tail flicks to one side, smile turning sharp. )

So! What kind of other plans do you have for us?

OPEN: a corpse horse, of course

[tryhard]

There are rumors of an unearthly screaming in the distance around the Wilde lately, even near the less-fortunate settlements just outside the Bright Wall. Similar rumors travel through the Wilders and perhaps even the Mirrorbound who frequent the Northern Outpost for one reason or another. There's a strange new sort of beasts in the area.

And they're out for blood.

........specifically, perhaps, Waver's blood. Though he doesn't know it yet.

He might be just beyond the Bright Wall, delivering some food to one of the refugee soup kitchens or bringing some extra potion supplies to other volunteers. He might be doing research at the Northern Outpost, gathering samples of the different plants and mosses that grow there, some of them still thriving even in the dead of winter. Or maybe he got separated somehow from a group outside in the Wilde for one reason or another. Who knows?

The problem is: the Nuckelavee are mysteriously extremely pissed off at the two people with whom he spends time most often, pretty much every day, so that screeching and screaming is getting alarmingly near. The thunderous pounding of horse hooves draws close.

"What the hell is that?" Waver manages, before he realizes the ghoulish horse-and-rider creature is dashing right at him.

Well, shit.

He might scramble for his short sword, or try to summon up a fire spell, though it seems that when he uses the magic stored in the tattoos on his arm, the creature for some reason becomes even more enraged. Or, perhaps, you catch him sprinting for his life with a shrieking nightmare horseman at his heels.


(( ooc: kept it kind of vague to allow for different scenarios throughout the month! feel free to take the reins pun intended and control the Nuckelavee(s) if you so desire. Waver has no idea why they're chasing him, but they're going to be very persistent. ))

that pun is criminal, how dare you

[fulgency]

Holding one's ground and standing to fight is an admirable thing to do, but it's not exactly advisable against something as relentless as the Nuckelavee. It should only be a last resort or a carefully executed plan of attack. This is why something within Ozymandias drops and his blood runs a little colder as he sees Waver reaching for his short sword instead of turning away and moving with the rest. Ozymandias immediately moves toward Waver and the impending Nuckelavee rather than away from it unlike others who live just outside the Wall and begin a panicked scramble to get away from any nearby Mirrorbound. He doesn't really care how much skill Waver has developed with a blade. This isn't the sort of foe he should be standing against.

Ozymandias reaches for Waver a little too soon, his fingers only grazing the back of his shirt at first before finding purchase with the next step. Ozymandias doesn't quite throw him, but there's nothing gentle about the way he pulls Waver back, turning him around and propelling him further in the opposite direction of the Nuckelavee. As much as Ozymandias might wish to scold him for that decision to reach for his sword, but he doesn't. Instead, he only barks out a single command.

"Go!"

:)

[tryhard]

Waver doesn't protest. He stumbles slightly when he's shoved, teeth bared, but then he's running again. He's already out of breath. This thing has been chasing him for some time now through the edges of the Wilde, and when he'd finally thought he'd lost it, he'd ended up accidentally leading it closer to the settlements out here. That's not what he intended at all.

Though he doesn't actually disobey Ozymandias's command, Waver starts to turn back toward the woods, leading them in another direction away from the fleeing townsfolk.

"It's just going to follow me!" he shouts over the beast's awful noise.

"Do something!"

[fulgency]

Ozymandias reflexively calls to Waver when he begins to turn direction and Waver's name becomes a single word filled almost overflowing with how much is within it. Reprimand and doubt for his decision. Worry for whatever unknown consequences there might be for it. A command and plea that Waver turn back and try to get back within the city where there will be greater safety in numbers. But the sound of Ozymandias' voice is likely lost. As Waver changes his direction and begins moving toward the outlying woods, his pursuer lets out another horrid screech. It is not so much a competition of volume between the two as it is the primal nature of the Nukelavee's scream seizes upon any attention one might give to anything else. It is something that is felt within the very bones of all who hear it.

Whether Waver chooses to ignore Ozymandias' implied command or if he simply does not hear it matters little though. Ozymandias begins giving chase behind them. He's not certain how long Waver has been running for, but Ozymandias has his doubts that he will make it to the woods from here. Or, if he manages to pull that off, Ozymandias doesn't believe he will be able to lose the creature out there. Even with more difficult terrain for the beast to contend with, it shall be much the same for Waver, too.

"Just keep going!"

He might disagree with Waver's decision, but it is done. It is now time to find a solution within those parameters. He lacks the time to summon another here and now, needing to focus his magic elsewhere and with more immediate results. And so, Ozymandias sends out a silent call, hoping that he is not too far from them within the city. That even if they cannot discern precisely where he is, he hopes that his sphinxes hear him and will follow it until they reach their master. But because of that uncertainty, Ozymandias makes no promises to Waver about their arrival. If anyone is to hold false hope for their arrival, he deems it not to be Waver and decides that shall only lead him to disaster otherwise.

As for what he uses his magic for rather than summoning a beast of his own, it causes shadows around it to grow thinner and thinner until they vanish but deepens those further away. A blinding, white-hot light strikes down on the earth before the Nuckelavee, scorching the ground beneath it and cutting off the beast's direct path to Waver. It manages to stop itself before it collides with the wall, sensing both the wall's solidity and heat and wanting to contend with neither. Whatever portion of the creature's mind remains equine rears and stamps instinctively, the sound of its hooves creating a cacophonous harmony to its screaming much in the way a child's fists and feet against the floor do when mid-tantrum. It recovers quickly though, turning and moving in another direction to circumvent the barrier. When its course is set, Ozymandias removes the barrier.

[mensrea]

[ The Northern Outpost has become more than familiar to Stiles, after his repeated trips to visit Créia. Now that she’s awake and once again roaming the Wilde, no group is coming or going to her tree. It’s unfortunate; Stiles has new questions he’d like to ask her, but he knows better than to make the treacherous journey alone. While they may have thoroughly cleansed the area, Shades and nomad Monsters are ever on the prowl in the Wilde. Still, maybe if he’s just extra careful… The trichobothria sprouting from his two pairs of Arachne limbs should easily pick up on any vibrations in the air, alerting him to potential danger. That’s what he feels first, long before he hears a distant voice call out a question – the trichobothria sense the consistent galloping motion of a creature not too far away.

When Waver passes by below an impressively massive oak tree in his attempts to escape the Nuckelavee, he’ll be suddenly hoisted off the ground by human arms around his middle. With a panicky noise as the creature closes in, Stiles uses the Arachne limbs to climb them up several yards, well out of reach of the Nuckelavee. ]

Waver!? [ His voice is pitchy from his own terror. ] Wh-what the hell is that thing!?

[tryhard]

[ Waver had been focusing all of his attention on the creature chasing him, which in retrospect is probably a huge mistake out in the Wilde, even if this area has been comparatively cleared out by now. But since he was so intent on the Nuckelavee's scent and noise behind him, Waver didn't even notice the other presence in the tree. Not until two arms suddenly wind tight around his waist, grabbing him as he stumbles past the tree. ]

Ahh!

[ Waver screams and flails briefly in his panic as his feet leave the floor-- just moments before the shrieking beast skids to a halt beneath the tree, frothing at its toothy, horselike mouth while the other continues its ungodly howl.

Stiles is lucky that Waver's not nearly as strong as most Turnskins are. And then that his attempts at freeing himself immediately fizzle out when the Nuckelavee stops beneath him, even before he finally recognizes the scent and the voice calling his name. He quickly curls his legs up further out of reach, hands clinging to Stiles's arms around him without claws now, though he might have left a couple of scratches in his panic.

Too much has happened all at once. It takes him a moment to stammer out a response, tentatively trying to look back at Stiles. ]

H-how should I know? What are you even doing up here?

[mensrea]

[ The scratches, though deeper than they would have been from human nails, are a minor discomfort he can disregard in the heat of the moment; Stiles can tend to his arms later, when the danger has passed. For now, he focuses on keeping Waver out of reach of the ungodly beast and rider below, tarsi ripping bark from the tree trunk as he climbs up to a sizable branch. There, he gently tries to set the young man down so he doesn’t need to rely on Stiles’ upper body strength keeping him aloft. While he may be a hell lot stronger physically than he used to be due to his transformation, Stiles can’t risk slipping and dropping his precious cargo. This is a Worse Dragon customer, after all! ]

Is that seriously the question you want to ask right now?

[ His heart is slamming against his ribcage, sent into a frenzy from the sheer horror of seeing what has been chasing Waver. Stiles has never met anything like it, not even back home in Beacon Hills. ]

I was trying to see if I could run into Créia and climbed the tree when I heard yelling. But never mind that – [ A pause, Stiles cringing at the horrible screech of rage continuing to emit from the attached rider. ] What did you do to piss this thing off so bad? Holy shit.

[petcromancer]

[Hector's run into Waver during their mutual research ventures before, but this is certainly the most eventful crossing of paths. One minute, Hector was minding his own business, planting some of his chimera plants in a clearing outside of the Northern Outpost, and the next, he sees the turnskin and the flayed creature stalking him.

And unlike a normal, sane person, Hector takes a moment to just stare at the Nuckelavee and appreciate the wonder of its exposed muscles and tendons. It's truly amazing to see the anatomy of a horse in motion on this level.

But then the screaming registers, and it dawns on him that he no longer has any command over demons and night creatures. Waver's panic suggests it's not friendly, so Hector uses what he has at hand- a wereradish- and throws it at the creature's head as he scrambles to get his hammer drawn from his pack.]

Fuck. Don't suppose there's any reasoning with it, do you?

[tryhard]

Hector!

[ Waver's voice is shrill with panic and breathless from his mad sprint. He's in better shape than he used to be, but running is not his forte by far.

On the one hand, he doesn't really want to lead the creature into Hector. On the other, his only other option is going back toward the Wilde, and the rest of the outpost where the Wilders are, with their better weapons and training, is still a bit far.

He bolts for Hector after all, gasping out incredulously: ]

Reasoning?! With that?

[petcromancer]

[Hector gets his hammer out, but narrows his eyes at Waver.]

What, just because it looks like it's undead?

[Hector's not so hasty to judge. He's commanded creatures far more 'terrifying' or 'horrific' than this one, and they were perfectly fine to work with...so long as you either had power over them or kept them well-fed.

Waver seems convinced, though, and Hector's not about to lose a research partner.]

Fine. This way. If it's anything like the creatures at home, we need consecrated ground, or a line of salt, or running water.

[The first two are in short supply out here, but there are streams that run through the Wildes. Hector lets Waver get past him before he starts running, so he can keep him in sight.]

this is a great way to meet, right?

[darkestbefore]

[ Yona had also wandered out to the Northern Outpost in search of more of that moss that had proven so efficient in curing the infected in the Underground. Since they were still dealing with pushing back the Red Death, she'd been doing her best to keep their healers supplied when she could. And the Ruins seemed to have plenty of the stuff in bountiful supply - even though she kept an eye on that, as well - just in case.

Not that she got that far today. Not when she hears a panicked cry and her head jerks up to see a slight figure racing away from...

Good gods, what was that thing?!

Her mouth dropping open in shock, she gapes for only a heartbeat before her hands are reaching for her bow, stringing an arrow without a second thought. ]

Run!

[ She calls out the warning to him a moment before she looses her arrow, sending it straight for the monstrous form looming far too close behind him. ]

perfect! this'll be a fun story they'll laugh about later... probably.

[tryhard]

Ah!

[ Waver yelps in surprise, automatically ducking his head when he sees the arrow fly. He's not going to be picky here, but it's definitely a bit alarming!

Though the horrifying hell creature too close at his heels is even more alarming, for sure. ]

I'm already running!

[ he yells back, voice thin with panic and breathlessness, though apparently he has energy to waste on quibbling.

The flayed-horse-creature shrieks, gnashing both sets of teeth. The front horse hooves lift off the ground, furiously kicking at the air as the ungodly noise it's making rises even louder. Apparently, neither horse nor rider appreciated the arrow catching its humanoid shoulder. ]

LET'S HOPE!

[darkestbefore]

[ Don't worry, she has very good aim, she strikes what she intends - which is definitely not him.

She'd hoped the blow might discourage the creature - most things paused or changed course when struck with sudden pain. But if anything, the arrow just seemed to enrage it more.

Cursing under her breath, she reaches for another arrow, this time pausing just long enough to push magic into the arrowhead. A sleep spell. She didn't think it would work outright - that would require some experimentation on how strong a magic she'd need to use for a creature that size. And also maybe enchanting the creature directly. But for an emergency, it might slow it down long enough for the fleeing boy to get away.

Etching the familiar symbol into the metal, she takes aim and looses a second shot - this one aimed directly for the horse-creature's center of mass, somewhere she hoped the enchantment would have the most effect. ]

You might want to try and run a little faster!

[ ... Just in case! ]

[knowledgeordeath]

Kolivan was just moving through the shadows of the Wilde to map it out further when he heard the shrieking. Eyes narrowed, he immediately turned that way and ran. In moments like this he longed for more of the speed he used to have but he knew he had to deal with things as they were. It was a struggle but not unmanageable.

Soon he found the boy sprinting to get away from the attack. There was no point in trying to form a plan, he had to help.

So, he rushed forward to get between the boy and the beast, throwing a barrier up between them as he did. Without glancing over his shoulder, he let out a soft growl. "Are you hurt?"

[tryhard]

Loath as he is to lead the beast back toward the city in any way, Waver doesn't have much choice. His best shot at getting help is going somewhere there are more people to provide help, so he was trying to get to a Wilder supply camp on the outskirts that he knows of. Luckily, someone else is closer.

The giant of a man dashes forward suddenly, but despite his surprise, Waver doesn't hesitate. He ducks behind the man as soon as he realizes he's about to cast.

"N-no. I'm fine," Waver pants, clearly exhausted but thankfully not injured, save for some minor scratches on his arms and face from running through the woods.

The creature lets out its hair-raising noise again, both mouths agape, and rears to beat its front hooves on the barrier.

CLOSED: for iskandar & stiles.

[tryhard]

[ For all of Iskandar's enthusiasm and his own thirst (which definitely runs a lot deeper and more frequent than he lets on outwardly...) it takes Waver a while to be cajoled into actually taking Stiles up on his offer of in-person lessons. On the one hand, it's definitely better and safer to have professional guidance no matter how many books Iskandar reads.

But on the other hand... it's embarrassing as hell? Like, really embarrassing? Especially after meeting Stiles in person and the whole awkward exchange in Inkchanted. That had admittedly scared him off for several more weeks on top of his already annoying waffling.

Finally, on Iskandar's insistence whenever his patience has worn thin enough to wrangle Waver into acting, he makes the dreaded appointment.

They show up at the shop at the agreed-upon time. Waver lets Iskandar do the knocking. He surreptitiously unwraps what looks like a small chocolate drop he pulls from his pocket and pops it into his mouth. Good thing he's figured out the dosage for the dog weed nip by now. ]

[towards_okeanos]

[Iskandar doesn't do much knocking before opening the door. They have an appointment after all. Finally! Because he was truly losing his patience there. He almost convinced himself for some time that Waver actually doesn't like any of this. He just went with the flow because it's easy to give in to Iskandar's enthusiasm. All this stalling now is his way of not having to explicitly say no to his King.
Which as depressing as it sounded, fortunately, equally untrue. But it did put a slight damper on their fun times together. To the point where Iskandar started questioning if the workshop option actually exists and was really close to just going himself to ask and verify. He could not understand what all the handwringing was about.

But they are here now and he's curious what will happen.]

Hello?

[Somebody should be expecting them.]

[mensrea]

[ As a purveyor of the strange and unusual, Stiles had taken to the “request” to instruct Waver and his partner rope bondage like a fish to water. Being an Arachne only made learning the various techniques that much easier, what with his innate understanding of bindings. So when the appointed day finally rolls around, he’s more than prepared to teach the subject to his two students – though nothing could have prepared him for the ridiculous sight that greets him as he exits the staff room at Worse Dragon: Waver, small and lithe as usual, standing next to a giant of a man. Well now. Size difference is a kink, after all. ]

Yo, [ he says in greeting, offering a little wave. ] I’m Stiles. You must be Waver’s partner, right?

[ The Arachne hurries past them, heading to the front of the shop to flip the sign to “closed” and locking the door. ]