[OPEN] December Catch-All

[judgementor]

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.

---
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!]

Comments

[battlebound]

[ Perhaps he was asking for this argument to start with that comment, but the genie can't be put back in the bottle this time. Hands ball into fists and his brows knit together.

If this is how they have to settle this long brewing storm, then so be it. He likes it that way. Red Wine getting angry is much more familiar than this brooding, silent blob he's been. ]

And what does running away achieve?! [ Because that's all he's seen Red Wine do. Run away and avoid him. ]

[judgementor]

You're more of an idiot than I thought if you can't see it.

[But he doesn't want to get angry. He doesn't want to, and especially not now, when being angry means feeling his tenuous control over himself begin to slip even further. Red Wine takes a breath, letting it out in a slow, steady stream of warm air.

An argument would be normal, comfortable, but he can't let himself walk down that path right now.]

You promised me once that you'd kill me if I became dangerous. Would you still do it?

[battlebound]

Why, you—!

[ Anger is so familiar to Steak that he doesn't quite know how to avoid it, even despite the way this monstrous form seems to respond to it, rising and shifting within him.

A temptation.

So, perhaps its good that the question, the return to that promise made all those years ago, is enough to knock the wind out of Steak's sails here and now. ]

... Would it achieve anything?

[ He has to wonder. If he kills Red Wine now, when he's still breathing, does he achieve anything but accelerating the process of his transformation? ]

[judgementor]

That isn't answering the question.

[And it's important. More important than it's ever been, because now Red Wine's fears of a loss of control aren't confined merely to half drunk ramblings or morose theorising about the future when he thinks of other Food Souls inflicted with the same desires.

His hand tightens around the pommel of his sword and he narrows his eyes slightly.]

Would you still do it, Steak? If you had to, would you end my life?

[battlebound]

[ If what’s troubling you comes to pass, I’ll definitely be there to kill you myself.

He remembers those words without needing this discussion. How could he not? He honours every oath he has taken, from the oath to his Master Attendant when he was first summoned, to the ones given to random humans decades, centuries, after his Master's passing.

But he remembers Red Wine at his side for almost every single one. Remembers every fight they had — the ones against each other, because a disagreement got out of hand, and the ones united against a common enemy. Remembers the countless nights spent drinking and yelling about something or other, and the more subdued discussions which take place after all of it.

He remembers the way Red Wine would laugh — usually at him, much to Steak's displeasure — and how his eyes crinkled shut as he did.

He doesn't really laugh here.

It's strange.

Can he do it? After centuries of considering this man his brother in arms? ]

... I offered you my sword, did I not? [ As a comrade, as a... friend. ] My oath remains true, even now.

[ His fist raises over his heart, a quick, knightly bow given as he restates that fact, but his eyes shut too tightly as he does so.

He would honour his oath, as he has honoured every other one. But it doesn't make the idea any more pleasant, after everything they've been through. ]

[judgementor]

[Red Wine doesn't laugh, but he smiles faintly and shakes his head. Steak is so warm, still, and he can feel it even from this distance like a steady drum beat thrumming through the air between them. It's so hard to ignore.]

That's what I thought.

[His fingers twitch and he drops his hand from his weapon. The distance between he and Steak is closed in slow, careful steps until they're close enough for him to reach out and place a hand on the other Soul's shoulder.]

You are the only one I'd trust to do it. [The only one he would trust to follow through, the only one he'd trust to make it painless. The only one.] But I don't want you to have to.

[His fingers squeeze around Steak's shoulder.]

So I'm going to walk away, and you're not going to follow me. Do you understand?

[battlebound]

[ He isn't quite sure what to expect when Red Wine begins to approach him, but perhaps this is as good an answer as he could hope to get in this situation.

Steak's head raises, and he drops his arm to his side, glancing over at Red Wine with an inscrutable expression, one which is almost searching. ]

Come home when you're ready.

[ The promise of coming to find Red Wine if he doesn't return hangs in the air, unspoken, and not needing to be. ]