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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: 2017-10-17 05:21 am (UTC)Frisk--thinks, growls, tries to ask again: 'You? Who are you?'
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-19 03:20 am (UTC)Yeah, that's a weird sight, and slightly disconcerting. Still. The wolf's hungry, but thankfully whoever it is has still got enough sense in them to try and not assault them again with forceful application of teeth.
Frisk pauses and tries to discern words. After working it out in their head, they think they got the gist of it. They gesture to themself with their free hand. "Me? You mean me? I'm Frisk. Who are you?"
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-19 09:41 am (UTC)This thing isn't them--
...This body isn't them, either. They've met other thems before, from different times and worlds and everything, idiot, just a little empty stomach and they're already losing a grasp on the rules.
Ears swiveling to imaginary threats, Frisk shrinks away.
'No. Me too.'
(no subject)
Date: 2017-10-25 03:26 am (UTC)... wait.
Wait.
"Frisk?" Of all the people--of everyone in this castle, having Frisk turned into a ravenous and starving, half-lost wolf was the last thing they would have thought. Frisk, a wolf, who bit off their hand. Of all people. Of all people.
"Geez," they say, putting their free hand on their forehead, which only smudges black ash up there. (It doesn't make much of a difference--their face is already filthy with soot.) "I... wow. Are you, like--are you a, um, a werewolf? Or just a wolf? Do you know?" It's only been the first day, but hey, maybe.