middaeg | [OPEN] December Catch-All

Entry tags:

[OPEN] December Catch-All

Who: Red Wine & OTA.
When: All through December.
Where: All over the place!
What: Event things, full moon things, wildcard.
Warnings: None yet, will add as needed.

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Snow Way Out
The cold weather doesn't bother him overly. Red Wine doesn't enjoy being cold... but he has had a low body temperature for some weeks now and as a Food Soul will not die of exposure if he doesn't wish it. But he notes the difficulties and suffering of those around him, and it's in his nature to lend assistance no matter how much his current circumstances lead him to want to simply hide himself away...

i. A Chill of Dread

[Anyone who is willing and able to help defend Aefenglom are asked... and Red Wine answers. The sun is well-masked by clouds, and though it still bothers him he keeps any complaints to himself as he heads out to beat the Shades back from the failing Bright Wall. He may hate it here, but he understands a need is a need, and that innocents may be hurt if he and others do nothing.

Ranged attacks are not his strength, but speed certainly is. He paces the length of the failing sections of the wall with his sword in his hand, cutting down the Shades that he finds moving too close to the wall. There's a certain, blind enthusiasm with which he falls to this task. It's something he was made for, summoned for, but it is also a more than adequate distraction from thoughts he would rather not be having.

Should someone be on the ground along with him, they may suddenly find themselves with assistance, or hear a shout to watch their back from a Shade they didn't see coming. Those using ranged weapons from above get a thanks, genuine enough, should they shoot something down as he battles with it.

And if anyone is stupid or unlucky enough to be out with no weapons... they can expect a rescue, followed by an exasperated scolding.]

ii. Lending a Hand

[In the Refugee District, he is quick to get his hands dirty. Mornings find him indoors, for the most part, handing out what meagre supplies there are with gentle smiles and answering questions as he's asked them. He might stick his head out of a door and hail someone in the street--]

Oi, have a moment? The roof needs bracing up.

[And in the evenings or during the night, when the air grows colder still, he walks the streets with his hearing keen for any sounds of anyone calling for help. Now and then, the creaking, groaning crack of a roof collapsing under the snow and ice atop it will pull his attention and he will break into a run, grabbing anyone along the way who will come along with him.]

This way-- Did you not hear that? Come on!

[In the Aristocratic District he spends an hour or so a day helping to dig people out (or into) their homes, or to bring them a small supply of firewood. If he knows the resident of the home, he will knock on the door to alert them to his presence. If not... they'll find him hard at work regardless.]

iii. Warm Company

[Eventually, the cold does start to bother him. When he decides to take a break, it's usually in the dormitories where he will get as close to the fire as he can and warm his hands and frigid body until he can feel his extremities again. If he spots someone lingering as if unsure of approaching the warmth, or anyone (particularly women, or children) who need the spot he's taking up far more than he does, he'll try to get their attention before silently offering his place.]

Here, you look frozen. Get closer to the fire.

[And though he enjoys sleeping - very much - he hasn't been getting very much of it lately. The closer the date draws to the full moon the more likely he is to be found outside when most are asleep, wrestling with the increasingly strong desire to taste blood.

Not something he wants to introduce into a crowded room.]

The Full Moon
iv. Deceuer 12th - evening

[The questionably fortunate thing about resisting the lust for blood for most of your existence is that you get very, very good at it. Red Wine has never felt anything quite as powerful as what plagues him during the day before the full moon rises, but he keeps it under wraps despite the way it makes his hands shake and his stomach feel as if it's burning.

The heartbeat of everyone who walks to close is an audible THUMP-- THUMP-- THUMP-- and he spends the day distracted, avoiding crowds where he can, more prepared this time and yet more anxious of what is to come. If it becomes much worse...

And he refuses to drink to sate it. No, he won't. He refuses. Despite being warned of that risk, as well as the risk of not taking a Bond. Stubbornness runs through him in high doses.

As night begins to fall, it becomes almost overwhelming and he finds somewhere quiet in the silent, snowy cold to sink down and put his back against a wall while his temples throb and the back of his throat feels thick with something he can't put a name to.

He hears footsteps, heavy or light, and looks wearily towards them.]

I'd turn around, if I were you. Or have a weapon if you're to come closer.

Modranicht
v. Kiss-tletoe (Deceuer 21st)

[With the full moon over and done with, spirits lift without too much prompting. The sun is still a new enemy in a way it has never been before, but as yet isn't keeping him from his usual activities in Aefenglom.

He's searching the shops in the early morning for a new coat when he finds himself stuck, feet locked to the floor, and an accusing glance upwards finds the culprit immediately - a sprig of tinsel and mistletoe attached to the lamp post.]

Oh, this is ridiculous. [He snaps out. What does a guy have to do to not fall prey to magical hijinks for one single bloody day? He doesn't notice right away that someone else is stuck with him...

Who is the unfortunate party?]

vi. Eat, Drink & Be Merry (Deceuer 23rd)

[And yet again, he's at a celebration that he wouldn't have really chosen to be at, but as found himself attending regardless. He doesn't engage much until the bonfires start being lit, at which point he takes up a spot with a hot drink clasped between his hands and watches the flames dancing.

It reminds him a little of festivals back home, enough to soothe him somewhat as the evening draws on. Anyone he already knows will no doubt be asked if they'd like to join him for a few moments, acquaintances will be mildly acknowledged, and he ignores any peculiar looks he gets from locals for being there entirely alone.

To someone standing nearby, he may casually comment--]

Do the people here ever tire? It was only two weeks ago that we were digging them out of the snow.

Wildcard
vii. Wildcarding

[Want to do something that's not covered above? Hit me up on hardtostarboard or at hardtostarboard#7737!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She almost doesn’t see him, slumped motionless as he is against the wall, snow all around him like a cozy nest. Her eyes are on the hunt for movement tonight, seeking those heading to or from home to meddle with on their way. She hadn’t been looking for strange men taking naps in the snow.

But she stops her restless trot through the alleys when he moves, speaks into the heavy nighttime silence. Something about him seems familiar, but her mind is clouded this evening―scattered and full of static. She isn’t concerned with connecting with old acquaintances, but she still moves a step closer, peering at him with eyes turned matching shades of bright, electric violet. What is he doing here, huddled in the snow? The man looks ill, but the unspoken threat in his suggestion piques her curiosity.]

I’m always armed.

[Long, spidery fingers tipped with vicious claws twitch in his direction, their extremities stiff and frigid with the persistent chill of the evening. She isn't herself at the moment―there's an unusually predatory edge to her words, her movements. Her faculties haven't quite left her, but something about her manner is a little unhinged.]

Don’t you know it’s dangerous to take naps in the snow?

Of course. That's why I wasn't sleeping.

[She might not quite know him, but he recognises her immediately. Nyskie is not an individual that one soon forgets, after all... no matter how brief the encounter might be.

He may feel as if he's on the way to losing his mind, but he's not there yet.

And perhaps he should be concerned. Despite what he said, he isn't looking for a fight and he has no idea of what he might be capable of with these new urges thrumming through his body. He observes her quietly for a few moments more, then sighs softly and tips his head back against the wall behind him.]

Were you on your way somewhere, Nyskie?

[ Luckily, Lex is good at ranged attacks. She doesn't have magic, but she has guns, and she's been lucky enough to get them upgraded with magitech so that it does more to Shades than just annoy them.

She's found a rooftop to hunker down on for now, her dog snuggled up next to her but facing the other way. Dogmeat is a good scout, and if anything tries to sneak up on them, he'll notice before she does. Unfortunately, not everyone has that option - which means Lex takes down a Shade trying to sneak behind the swordsman with a shot from her sniper rifle and a yell, just in case it isn't dead. ]

Behind!

[He takes the call the instant he hears it, whirling 'round with his sword held up and ready. The woman's shot was true, however, and all he needs to do is watch the thing slowly drop to the ground.

The tip of his sword lowers, and he scans the wall above his head for the source of the shot. When he finds it, he raises his free hand in thanks.]

A fine shot! Thank you, miss.

[ She raises a taloned hand in return; the Shades, for the most part, shouldn't be intelligent enough to notice. The ones that are- well, they'll be in for a fight if they decide to attack her up on the Wall. ]

Nice work yourself, [ Lex calls back, and Dogmeat echoes the sentiment with a wag of his tail, as much as he may not be able to see it from his spot below. ]

Mm, thank you.

[He doesn't shout, but he doesn't mutter the acknowledgement so quietly that he can't be heard. Of all things he can do here, battling creatures like this is something that he is good at and he won't have it be taken away from him.

Red Wine can't see the dog, but he can regrettably smell the dog. His sense of smell, already heightened past usual levels in his normal life, has only been escalated further by vampirism.

More shades are cut through on his way along the wall, until he finds an opportunity to duck back inside. From there, he makes his way up to the top of the wall to locate his benefactor.]

[ Steak’s second transforming moon is far less drastic than his first - there’s no preceding ache in his skull, owing to the fact that his horns seem to be quite settled in their new upright position, and the throbbing at his waist is nothing like the tearing of last month.

It’s uncomfortable, but he’s dealt with far worse pains during his long life, and most wouldn’t be able to pinpoint that his temper is any worse than usual. (That’s the hardest part this month, how loud the rage gets, how he has to bite his tongue until it bleeds to keep from giving into it. He has never felt the urge to go feral, to become a baseless fallen, and he will not allow it to best him simply because he’s in this ridiculous excuse for a city.)

That isn’t the point, though. Steak has a bigger problem, in the shape of a fledgling vampire who insists on running away from him. He trudges through the snow, drawing his coat closer around him, grumbling to himself until he sees it

One very familiar, cold-loathing form in the snow. ]

Get up.

[ His cheeks are flushes and his breath comes heavily, the effort of having hurried through the blizzard written in his expression, even through the familiar glare he levels at Red Wine.

How dare this bastard piss him off like this, how dare he stir those same feelings from that ball all those years ago. ]

No.

[He isn't here to avoid Steak, though avoiding him has really come part and parcel of this entire ordeal. Red Wine doesn't want Steak seeing him like this, even after all those years of worry that the other Soul had dismissed as baseless.

Yes, he hates the cold, but he hates this even more and sitting where he is has a similar numbing effect to the tequila they had indulged in the last time the full moon rose. And of course it wouldn't work, of course Steak would find him.

Tenacious. Annoying.]

Just go home, Steak.

[ Of course Steak knows how to find him. That's Steak's job as Red Wine's oldest and only ~~friend~~ ~~victim~~ rival. He made a promise years ago, one to his Master Attendant, and one to Red Wine.

He would look after this bastard, and — if need be — kill him. ]

And leave you to mope?

[ Unfortunately, Steak's idea of looking after Red Wine still, mostly, means pissing him off until he forgets everything that's bothering him. ]

If you want to call it that.

[He might be sitting in the snow, cold and with small drifts of the stuff building up either side of him, but those bright, blood-red eyes never leave Steak. It isn't his face he's watching.

There is a good reason that he left when the full moon began to exert its effects. Even with the changes imposed on him Steak's blood still runs hot, and he's standing in the snow like a blazing beacon of temptation almost too strong to ignore.]

You still don't understand. I'm not moving. Leave me be.

[ Steak pays closer attention to Red Wine than he does a lot of people. He always has, following the way he would swirl his wine glass, or how he continually retreats into the shadows.

He has to. Red Wine is a Soul he's been entrusted to look after, a Soul he's known for two centuries. He knows more about Red Wine than he ever wanted to.

Including how much different he looks, and how his eyes are drawn to anything but his face.

He clears his throat, a grouchy huff as he crouches down. Why can't he simply annoy Red Wine into acting like himself again?

(Well. He knows why. What he doesn't know is what else he can do about it. Fighting each other is how they best understand one another.) ]

Tell me why.

[ It's a demand, but there's something else to his tone than his usual, brute force. There's something of the kind of consideration and thoughtfulness Steak would usually only display after too many brandies.

Tell him what's going on, Red Wine. ]

[On their own, the differences are subtle ones. He was already halfway to looking like one of the vampires of myth when they arrived and the brightening of his eyes, the paling of his skin are barely noticeable save to the one person here who knows him best.

Why. Tell him why, as if he hasn't been telling him for years upon years, never being taken seriously. The back of his throat feels dry, his chest aches in a way he's unused to (it hurts, like something trying to claw its way out).

He's lifting a hand up before he knows it, his cold fingertips very lightly brushing the line of the other Food Soul's jaw.]

Because--

[And his fingers twitch back at the sharp realisation of their presence, and how he can feel Steak's pulse even through the tiny capillaries under his skin.]

Because I want to hurt you, Steak... and I will, if you don't leave.

[ These discussions have gone in circles a million times back on Tierra, because back on Tierra, Steak knew that Red Wine was strong enough to fight whatever things he worried about. He knew that those worries were nothing more than imagination from too many years of humans casting petty assumptions because Red Wine was pale, because his eyes were that colour, because of his taste in fashion (what is that outfit, Red Wine, really?!)

Back on Tierra, Red Wine was being ridiculous. Concentrating on things which were better ignored.

But this is not Tierra. And Red Wine's fears are not simply an active imagination. And Steak, who has always promised to ensure this Soul's safety, cannot prevent it.

He can't keep Red Wine safe from this.

Fingertips colder than his own chill-bit skin startle him out of staring at Red Wine too intently, and when they pull back, his hand chases them, wrapping around fingers. An anchor, a weight preventing Red Wine from simply up and leaving again, preventing him from disappearing like smoke in the breeze. ]

I made a promise.

[ The words sound reedy, weak, because he already knows the truth: his promise does nothing here. Not like this.

If they wish to survive Aefenglom, they'll have to play by its rules. ]

... Bond with me.

iv. full moon time!

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Full moon and soon...

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Kiss kiss fall in...???

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iv. Full Moon

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