![[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: 2017-10-13 05:26 am (UTC)It's at least a step in the right direction. Or -- several, unsteady steps at that. The wolf's path does lead to a door (the one Guardian just came from, a few yards back), so Guardian makes no move to correct them on their course, walking with them.
The way is dark.
...They don't recognize this path.
The castle doesn't seem to be forthcoming quite yet, and the brush grows denser. Did they just hear something move?
They're just going to keep walking thanks.
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-13 05:47 am (UTC)It's being drunk on emptiness.
They're hungry. They're afraid. They're hungry.
Instinct has them twist their head, snapping something off a nearby bush, staring back at Guardian. What is it? A bird, perhaps, and now their mouth is full of bones and leaves, and their too-big teeth tear off a few more twigs besides, 'cause that's not enough.
A death knell, through all their bones.
'It's not enough,' they say.
Tell. Plead.
The walls are so far away.