Myrobalan Shivana (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faithlikeaseed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-10-31 01:33 pm
faithlikeaseed) wrote in middaeg2020-10-31 01:33 pm
Entry tags:
Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA
Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!
It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are ahorrible beautiful Faun.
Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.
Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.
Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.
Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.
There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!
It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a
Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.
Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.
Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.
Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.
There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?
no subject
Myr--cursedly not privileged to the sight of his Bonded making a very attractive stack--absolutely does register that ominous creaking.
His first instinct, of course, is to lunge in and rescue both his beloveds from IMMINENT DANGER.]
Dearheart, Viren, careful--!!
[...Unfortunately there's a table between him and the other two and he capsizes it entirely in his mad rush to the rescue.
The rats promptly abandon their sinking table, as rats will do, to cling to Myr instead. Conveniently, he's suddenly frozen in mortal terror of squishing one of them because he is so large.]
no subject
Everything goes crashing down at once. Doesn't it usually work out that way?
The chair creaks and crumbles beneath Viren with the added weight. Everett lets out a short, loud "ba-a-ah!" as they fall together. The faun fails to clutch onto his dragon companion. Everett flips over backwards unless caught, whiiiich, Viren probably won't have mind to do while also falling. Everett can roll shoulders down and legs kicked up, a small blessing he decided on wearing pants for the chilly night.
Then there is Myr, who body slams the whole table and sends the rats scrambling around. A good thing he's careful, after, not stomping any of the little creatures as they disperse around his hooves.
An all together amusing sight for random onlookers, surely, that'll make a good story]
no subject
[ after checking everett's at least alive, he does have to hop to his feet and gingerly approach the lorg deer. ]
Myr. Stay still -
[ the rats seem fine, actually - but he'll get to removing a few of the more precariously perched, if allowed to approach. ]
no subject
Myr is not listening to that. He is, instead, listening very intently to his approaching Bonded and standing absolutely shock-still until he's sure the rats are safe.
(Some of them still on his very broad back, or among his proud antlers. It's a cute look, a giant deer covered in happy rats.)]
I think I owe you a new table, dearheart, [he finally ventures, in a small voice.] Are you two all right?
[This will be funny to him, too, once the momentary mortification wears off.]
no subject
He can get himself flat onto the ground, at least, not longer tangled up over himself. There's some consideration made to get up, but the rats swarm over top him and he has to laugh as the tickling sensation for so many caring little creatures. He chirps at them, half laughing, to inform them he is yes quite alright! Really!]
no subject
I'm fine, thank you. And so do seem the creatures...
[ he drops his hands to his side, majority of the ones in more precarious situations having been removed to the ground. if viren were less sullen by nature, the sight of the rats peering brightly from myr's antlers might bring a smile to his face. as it stands, he turns to offer everett a hand if he wishes to gather himself to his hooves (rats and all). ]
[ glancing back, ]
I think they may have a new favorite perch, actually.