![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dustless posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
castle_perraultMidnight.
The world goes cold, half the trees seeming to shiver. Leaves crinkle, fading from green to reds, oranges, and yellows; some even further, to brown. They drop to scatter over misty ground; that mist is thick, unnaturally so. The wind whispers, casting it through the darkness. It gains a life of its own, creeping into doorways, crawling over stone, searching.
Where the mist spreads, the castle's shadows grow longer; not all of that can be explained by the moon that seems overfull and glaring orange through every window.
It finds the castle's denizens, whether they are awake to flee or they rest in their beds, enshrouding their forms and sinking into their bodies--until an eerie hiss of wind follows and seems to sweep it away.
For some, there will be no evidence of this mist until later, after the sun climbs over the castle.
Others may not be so lucky.
Frisk wakes up screaming.
It's not their chest, it's not their cell-SOUL piece, it's something worse, it's bigger, so big they can't scream for Judgement (for help, for horror), dragging hot and violent through all their bones, every single one all at once--
--it's only seconds but it can't be, it has to be hours, and they're deafened by a thousand snaps that's their bones shifting and reversing and tearing wetly out of skin that changes too but a heartbeat too late, bursting pink-black blood all over their sheets and pillows--and floor, once they regain enough control of their limbs to thrash and roll off.
Their throat distorts until their screaming's not screaming, and still they're too far gone to realize it's howling.
The whole-body wracking pain fades after the longest half-minute of their life, but not all of it's gone--there's still a dull pain in their chest, and something sharper below (further back).
Their clothes are shredded to almost nothing. At least they hadn't been wearing their scarf to sleep.
Frisk rolls to their feet, all four of them, and--and they know this pain, of wandering to scavenge from dumpsters and abandoned tables, of not having enough.
They need more. They need to eat something, they need to forget how much everything just hurt, their heart is roaring in their chest and rushing their pulse through too-long ears, they don't know what's happening, they don't care.
There was a window that they could've slipped out before--if there hadn't been glass--but the edges scrape their sides even after the glass shatters, and they don't care about that either, or even feel much beyond the pain in their belly and the cold grass beneath their paws.
They're howling, they're screaming, and maybe if someone listens hard they're be heard-- 'Help, someone, please, give me something, please, please, PLEASE--'
//Event has begun! Characters are transformed into whatever you'd like them to be--unless you'd rather they stay normal or change later through the month, of course that's fine too~
But if they do change, they'll stay that way until Halloween's through! Enjoy!
The world goes cold, half the trees seeming to shiver. Leaves crinkle, fading from green to reds, oranges, and yellows; some even further, to brown. They drop to scatter over misty ground; that mist is thick, unnaturally so. The wind whispers, casting it through the darkness. It gains a life of its own, creeping into doorways, crawling over stone, searching.
Where the mist spreads, the castle's shadows grow longer; not all of that can be explained by the moon that seems overfull and glaring orange through every window.
It finds the castle's denizens, whether they are awake to flee or they rest in their beds, enshrouding their forms and sinking into their bodies--until an eerie hiss of wind follows and seems to sweep it away.
For some, there will be no evidence of this mist until later, after the sun climbs over the castle.
Others may not be so lucky.
Frisk wakes up screaming.
It's not their chest, it's not their cell-SOUL piece, it's something worse, it's bigger, so big they can't scream for Judgement (for help, for horror), dragging hot and violent through all their bones, every single one all at once--
--it's only seconds but it can't be, it has to be hours, and they're deafened by a thousand snaps that's their bones shifting and reversing and tearing wetly out of skin that changes too but a heartbeat too late, bursting pink-black blood all over their sheets and pillows--and floor, once they regain enough control of their limbs to thrash and roll off.
Their throat distorts until their screaming's not screaming, and still they're too far gone to realize it's howling.
The whole-body wracking pain fades after the longest half-minute of their life, but not all of it's gone--there's still a dull pain in their chest, and something sharper below (further back).
Their clothes are shredded to almost nothing. At least they hadn't been wearing their scarf to sleep.
Frisk rolls to their feet, all four of them, and--and they know this pain, of wandering to scavenge from dumpsters and abandoned tables, of not having enough.
They need more. They need to eat something, they need to forget how much everything just hurt, their heart is roaring in their chest and rushing their pulse through too-long ears, they don't know what's happening, they don't care.
There was a window that they could've slipped out before--if there hadn't been glass--but the edges scrape their sides even after the glass shatters, and they don't care about that either, or even feel much beyond the pain in their belly and the cold grass beneath their paws.
They're howling, they're screaming, and maybe if someone listens hard they're be heard-- 'Help, someone, please, give me something, please, please, PLEASE--'
//Event has begun! Characters are transformed into whatever you'd like them to be--unless you'd rather they stay normal or change later through the month, of course that's fine too~
But if they do change, they'll stay that way until Halloween's through! Enjoy!
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-06 04:39 am (UTC)Frisk's struck hard, knocked to the side, nearly off their feet--their body's a solid thing and the moon's light is thrumming from above, so it doesn't do as much as it could've. The wolf still howl-screams in pain, splatters of pink-to-black blood smearing down their fur and to the ground, 'cause he hit the cuts they already got by escape.
They spin and try snapping their jaws around the scythe's hilt.
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-07 07:51 pm (UTC)Stupid. He lets them clamp down on the hilt, and it crumbles to sand in their jaws. The whole thing is sand, and it's falling apart... swirling and reshaping itself into black glittery ropes to wrap around their muzzle and stop this nonsense. Bad dog!
(He's backing off, well out of reach. Fight the sand, not him.)
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-08 04:32 am (UTC)Choking and flailing, their focus goes from trying to tear him apart to trying to tear the sand apart, shaking their head like a terrier with a rat.
He might like the rush of panic that's bursting from them beneath that rage. This isn't the first time they've been muzzled.
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-14 01:22 am (UTC)“No more fish for you.“
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-14 05:40 am (UTC)'LET GO LET GO LET GO LET GO--'
They can't hear a thing they're scared they're angry they're scared they're angry they're leaving scores in the ground with their edges they're bleeding again they're howling they're screaming they're
they're
they're
seeing grey and sinking down.
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-16 04:47 am (UTC)(Admit it--he knows fear. People faint sometimes, it's a thing that's been known to happen.)
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-16 05:16 am (UTC)They're loose. They can move.
...They're not moving.
Their body's a traitor again and Frisk's just stuck lying there on their side, pink-specked flanks heaving.
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-16 07:52 pm (UTC)“Not going to run away?”
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-17 05:59 am (UTC)Are they trying to say something? Nothing's coming out of their head or from their teeth.
(What's a panic attack? They don't know the word, but they know that feeling.)
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-17 09:30 pm (UTC)Heh.
“I’ll take that as a no. You fit in well with all your idiot friends.”
(It’d be funny if that got them jumping up and attacking again. Loyal dog!)
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-18 05:56 am (UTC)But nothing else. Go away, you stupid mean nightmare man. They'll knock you flat later.
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-29 03:46 am (UTC)But. There is only silence. Looks like he took the hint and buggered off. For now.