♥ December (Ranir) Event Log

[hugtopiamods]

December (Ranir) Event Log
The end of the year is here and winter has arrived. The chilly fall weather quickly gives way to cold days and colder nights, perfect for snuggling and watching the first dusting of snow fall. It doesn't seem to stick for long, but it's certainly a beautiful sight to watch out of your windows. Ranir is the beginning of Rawna's time to shine, but the god of apathy breeds apathetic followers and priests - or he usually does. Maybe it's due to the influence of all the offworlders for the past year, but this year? Ranir is strangely familiar in its festivities...

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❥ PROMPT I: Bring Out Your Pens

No one is quite sure how, but over the past year, the natives have come to learn about a very particular figure in many of the offworlders' legends. He appears one time a year, shrouded in mystery, visiting in the dead of night, only to vanish until the next year. This godlike figure has piqued their interest to say the least and once Ranir is in full swing, offworlders who are aware of the legend of Santa Claus will start seeing some robots, especially Rawna's temple priests, wearing that familiar red and white outfit around town. They're carrying sacks on their backs and going door to door, electronics buzzing with excitement as they find anyone they can to shove an actual pen and paper into their hands.

"All hail the Santa of Clause!" they exclaim with glee. "Hail to your winter god! Nail your socks to the wall!"

Anyone who receives a letter set in person will then be told to write a letter to the Santa of Clause (and the robots ARE checking spelling. Who's ever heard of Santa Claus? Clearly you're mistaken and need a spelling software update) asking for a present, to a friend in town, or to someone back home. They won't leave until you write your letter, either. Whether it means they have to follow you all day, all week, or straight into your homes, they will complete their duty to the Santa of Clause and appease his great and terrible appetite for grammatically correct letters. For those who are lucky enough to avoid the robots in person, they may find a letter set in their mailbox one more with similar instructions about to whom they should be writing and a cheery announcement that someone will be by later to pick the letter up.

The sheer volume of letters being passed around town, however, is more than the robots alone can deliver. Soon enough, they start reaching out to the offworlders to help deliver the letters to their intended recipients, whether it's other offworlders, natives, or to temples to be placed upon the gods' altars. Anyone who is willing to help out will be given a small token of appreciation in the form of Dora, but more importantly, a larger gift of the Santa of Clause approved uniform. That's right: a Santa costume. If you're delivering letters, you must be wearing a Santa costume or you'll anger the Winter God, Santa of Clause! Or so the natives believe. So get into the holiday spirit and dress on up!

Those who wish to write letters to someone who is no longer among the city population or those who have never been here are more than encouraged to do so. In fact, Rawna's temple priests seem particularly interested in having people come by to read those letters directly at their temples to tie this offworld holiday into Rawna's typical purview. Read your letters to your loved ones or just read a letter detailing what you want for the holidays at Rawna's temple to unburden your soul as the year ends. Maybe you'll walk away feeling lighter than before.

❥ PROMPT II: This Isn't What I Ordered

At the end of the month, characters will wake up to light scratching at their doors. The sound is enough to get anyone's attention, especially if the scratching is at their bedroom doors, rather than their front doors. When people go to investigate, they'll find a little rainbow dragonling at their feet looking up at them expectantly. By the dragonling's side is a box of varying sizes, decorated and topped with a holographic bow. Once the dragonling has determined that you recognize the package is yours, it slithers off back to where it came from, escaping your house with surprising ease.

Opening the package will reveal one item from your character's life. That's right, it's a regain event! The item inside the box is familiar to your character and it might bring a smile to their face - or it would if it wasn't just....slightly? Wrong? For whatever reason, it seems this year the gift giving went a bit awry and all the items delivered by the dragonlings are off in some manner or another. For example, you might have gotten a box set of your favorite books from home! But they're all in a language you can't read. Or you may have gotten your favorite sweater back! But it's fourteen sizes too big and looks like it was sized for a T-Rex instead. Or your favorite gun from home is now bright neon bubblegum pink instead of that sleek and cool gunmetal gray. Oh and the bullets shoot flowers instead of, y'know, bullets. Whoops.

Whatever the problem, every gift received seems to have something wrong with it. As the complaints start rolling in, the temple priests will try their best to fix it by having all willing characters come with their malfunctioning gifts. A few trials and errors reveal that the best way to get things right again is? You guessed it: positive contact. Any temple will do for this, but Rawna's temple is naturally the busiest seeing as it's sort of his holiday and thus, sort of(?) his fault. Come with a friend or a frenemy or just a straight enemy if that's your flavour, place both of your gifts on the temple's altar, and just hold on tight. Once contact is initiated, the gifts will start to glow with a soft light; and the longer the contact is held, the brighter the light gets. It can take up to an hour depending on the level of wrongness your gift went to in order for the light to grow bright enough to flash and set the gifts back to their original forms. But there are rumours that talking about the gift you received and why it is significant to you makes the process far faster, resulting in a light that might flash as soon as you finish your story. Just be sure to hurry to correct this mistake. Some of the temple priests hypothesize that the corrections can only be made so long as Rawna's power holds sway.

OOC: These items from home must be approved by a mod. They cannot exceed the Medium Item regain limit. It cannot be a power or other ability. It cannot be something your character did not own or have knowledge of in their canon or their CRAU. Please post your regain request in the Regain Request thread before threading out the receipt or restoration of the item.

❥ PROMPT III: Ghostly Consequences

Toward the end of the month, people begin having dreams of Havenwell. That's nothing truly unusual, certainly, as it's quite normal for dreams to mimic one's daily life. What is unusual is that these dreams feel...real. Too real. And the people in the dreams are ones that may or may not be familiar to you. The faces of the dream people resemble those of the ghosts that took over Havenwell a month or two prior, and they seem to be going about their business as if they lived in Havenwell. In fact, they seem to be living your lives instead of you, living in your house, sleeping in your beds, working your jobs, talking with your friends. No one in the dream seems to notice the switcheroo and try as you might to interact with people in the dream, it looks like you've taken on the role of ghost. Thankfully, these dreams are innocuous and short, snapshots of your life rather than full length dreams and are over quickly.

However, before each dream ends, the ghost living your life turns to you and puts their hands together in a pleading gesture. What do they say? That differs for each person.

For most offworlders, the message is the same. The ghost puts their hands together and says:

"Balance must always be kept. Nothing shall die here that He does not allow. Your sacrifice is balance, and balance must always be kept. Some must die or all shall perish. These were their promises and their demise."

But, if your character touched a ghost in the previous event, you will receive a PM from the mod account soon with your specific message. Keep an eye out for your message.

The dream ends once the message is delivered and you'll find yourselves not where you remember - your bed, your sofa, wherever you went to sleep - but someplace new. Apparently the dreams have caused some minor sleepwalking and you may just find yourself waking up in someone else's bed or up a tree or about to buy that super expensive plastic model of Havenwell's latest holomovie starlet. Whoops.

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This event will run from 15 December to 31 December. Click on each prompt's title to see the text. If you have any questions, feel free to direct them to the FAQ or to the Mod Question thread. You can also use the Havenwell Status page or the General Plotting Comment to give you other ideas for original prompts!

Comments

[sweetlies]

That brush of his fingers through his hair makes him laugh softly, imagining his aunts outrage at it. He could practically hear her from here, yelling about how indecent it looks and he can imagine her with a comb at the ready to fix it.

"She wields a comb almost as ferociously as a sword." He laughs, giving a fake little shiver of fear. "Father though, I think he'd be delighted though he'd insist I wear it more neatly." Even he got a scolding from her sometimes.

His arms wrap around the reaper and lets out a little sound, half sad and half peaceful. He does wish his parents could share this day with them but he's at peace knowing they'd be happy, that he has Undertaker.

"And, I think, he'd insist I get a little taste of that cake before it goes in the oven."

[somakemelaugh]

And so Francis did. There had been a time or two when she had tried to tell him how to wear his own hair in her presence herself, the fireball that she was, but he might have been the only person in all of London not to oblige her. He had his reasons, of course. What would the world think if they could see his eyes then, especially if they knew what that meant?

"He may be. It isn't acceptable by old England's standards, but that's the beauty of it. People there are absolutely terrified to upset society's opinions." Oh, and he loves it, sometimes. There's a beauty in it, though most often it's only a pain.

He settles that arm a little further around Astre and follows him closer in their embrace, because he can. These moments with Astre of calm, of contentment, he needs them always, more than he can say. And so, he says nothing about them. He doesn't need to. "Oh, I do wish he had insisted before I put the eggs in, what passes for them in this world. They may not be from the same source that we've expected all of this time, but I do still concern myself with diseases you could get from eating them raw."

[sweetlies]

There would almost certainly have been some kind of social explosion, concerns of 'wicked' things being involved and the like. Which was, of course, part of why he made sure his own right eye was never uncovered. They would both have been at the center of a scandal or two with that alone.

Moments like this with Undertaker, to him, are like air. He needs them but he can't bring himself to voice that again. Not yet, not when Undertaker had been so upset only a short while ago.

"Oh? Too bad. I guess we'll have to make up for it then, won't we? Maybe some biscuits with our tea? Unless you can think of something else that might work to sate my sweet tooth?" They both know he's teasing. Even if it's still just as bad as ever, he's done his best over the years to be healthier about it all. What a sight he'd make to his family now, if they saw him.

[somakemelaugh]

They've been part of scandal enough for long enough, and really after several lifetimes of it himself, it has worn on him and he is tired of it. The human side of him has been dead for some time, and yet he knows it exists when it reminds him of just how wearying so much hurt a heart can take and still beat.

It spoke to him years ago, in teasing whispers at first, and later in chiding, one-sided conversations, a parent warning its child not to run in the house or else risk injury. Well, he hadn't had much choice then, and life rarely gives those kinds of decisions to the ones who will suffer the consequences. He had run, whether or not he wanted to, and will always bear the scars for his disobedience, a lesson learned time and time again.

And each time, he has cried, picked himself up off the floor, brushed the dust aside, and wandered carefully through life's rooms again until his legs built him speed and history repeated itself. It is how life works, and he knows everyone will learn that eventually.

Goodness knows the young man snuggled into his side has, still young despite his edging into adulthood. He grins and gives Astre a good cuddle, because he can. "And forget the cake I've spent all morning slaving over? You truly are a growing lad, aren't you?"

[sweetlies]

He knew. Oh, how he knew. Astre had thrown himself, time and time again, into anything and everything that was ahead of him, whether it was for the Queen or for the dreams he'd had as a child, in his attempts to prove himself as capable as his father or as his twin. To prove himself as capable as any adult who might otherwise have taken over the Phantomhive Earldom. And it had gotten him hurt and kidnapped and poisoned and sick and more over just a few short years.

And he'd had a demon who had simply thrived off the amusement it gave him at seeing his young master in such danger. So long as he didn't die, what did it matter what condition he ended up in, right?

Not that they have to worry about that ever again though. They're both happy and safe now, comfortable even if they are far from their own world. Though he can't help but think, heart beating fast and hard at the thought, if they would or could go somewhere far from England if they ever return. Just the two of them. Even if this is all they have, they'd never have to worry about the Queen or a demon, the grim reapers wouldn't know where to look for Undertaker and he'd be safe. And Astre had already had the opportunity to return his chain of mourning lockets, so nothing remained in Phantomhive Manor that he would feel a desperate need to recover.

"Forget the cake? Never!" He laughs softly, hugging him tightly. "Especially when it's one you made. You've never make anything awful that I can remember. A little treat to tide us over until it's ready though can't hurt, could it?"

[somakemelaugh]

The hug returned, he holds Astre there against him, indulging himself in a moment of affection in placing a kiss against that dark hair where dozens before it have fallen. He won't ever grow tired of this, or of the soft laugh, so far apart from the forced and calculated humor Astre had shown before.

"Oh, fine, I suppose it wouldn't hurt. And you're awake, so you must be starving. What sounds good to that aching stomach of yours, my lord?" One hand frees itself from their embrace long enough to reach up and push the teen's hair back over one ear once, then a second time, just to do so.

[sweetlies]

Neither would Astre. Oh, he couldn't possibly ever tire of being held close like this by Undertaker. Or those kisses to his hair. He's sure that, by now, there isn't a single hair on his head that hasn't felt that touch.

"Do we have any of those lemon biscuits left? Those would be a nice pairing with tea to hold us over." A part of him is tempted to ask for something else but the moment he thinks to voice the request, his throat seems to close and the words get stuck in his chest. Especially when those fingers brush his hair behind an ear and he can only smile.

"Even if we don't, I think tea with you while we wait is treat enough for me."

[somakemelaugh]

He's sure they have all felt his touch, and if they haven't, well they just haven't been grown yet. His love for physical affection hasn't gone away, and he never plans on making it not a thing.

"I believe we do." They're not his favorite, but they'll do for now, and if Astre wants them, birthday boy will surely have them. It will mean he has to separate himself from his Earl for a short time, and Astre is sure to protest, but separate he does. It isn't a long walk to the cabinet across the way and the little covered cookie tray he'd set in there to make room for another project. "I commandeered the space this was taking for dinner's doings last night, but we can leave them out now if you'd like."

[sweetlies]

The fact that he's so affectionate, physically and emotionally, is something Astre will never stop appreciating. And he hopes that it really doesn't ever stop, tells himself that this is all he needs. Not that he listens to himself.

He wants to try. He just needs to get the words out.

"That's alright. I just can't think of much else that would be a good treat to wake up. Unless you would like something else. Even if it is my birthday, it's only special anymore because I get to spend it with you." It's a start, at least. "A day with you and cake, I'm not sure which is sweeter."

[somakemelaugh]

It's a part of himself he won't ever lose, not that it hadn't ever been a part of who he was in some way or form. They had fallen into the habit naturally over the years, and he loved it as much as Astre did.

He brought the tray back to the counter to set aside for the Earl. They were certainly tempting him now that he had the smell of them in his nose, but no. He could make more later, and they were to have tea and cake soon enough. "Might have been sweeter had you stayed in bed and let me surprise you with it. If you decide to take a nap later, I could be bothered to do that for you."

[sweetlies]

Astre moves to his side and sneaks a quick biscuit, grinning up at him, but he doesn't nibble at it yet. Instead, he listens to the man and feels his cheeks turn a soft pink at the thought.

"I think I could be tempted after a little bit, but only if I have some company for a bit before or after. Your choice." But then he grins and giggles. "If you'd like though, I can go back to bed for a bit for you."

It seems like a shame to give up this time to curl up again when he could cuddle up next to his reaper. And that's all he really wants now. Seeing him there, the smell of biscuits and cake, his birthday, he can feel his heart full to bursting. And all he wants now to make it all perfect is-

"CanIkissyou?" The words slip out before he can help himself and that soft blush turns darker.

[somakemelaugh]

Originally, his plan had been, once the cake was done, to surprise Astre in bed with a cup of tea, maybe a few biscuits, and then to follow him and light the candles, or what passed for candles in this world. But the apartment was small enough, smaller than their house had been in a world before, and scents travelled far and fast. If the noises of him moving about in the kitchen didn't wake Astre before the cake was done, the smell would have.

Another time, he thought. It wasn't the only chance he would have to surprise the teen. "I wouldn't mind a nap myself. Old age tends to take a lot out of a person, you know."

His humor, something he would have continued to play off of... had Astre not asked what he did. For once, and the first time in a long time, Astre had stunned him to momentary silence. "Ah... Kiss me, my lord?"

[sweetlies]

And a wonderful surprise it would have been, had Astre not smelled the chocolate and heard Undertaker in the kitchen. These days, he couldn't help joining him, eager to help in some way or another. It had only gotten worse once Undertaker had taken to teaching him how to cook and bake himself, made the young noble into someone capable of caring for themselves.

Even if he'd rather they take care of each other.

His heart is pounding in his chest, face feeling as hot as they probably look, and he swallows back him panic as if it were something physically stuck in his throat.

"Please?" His voice is suddenly soft, a little panicked. As if a sudden spook might send him flying. "Even if... even if you don't ever feel that way for me, for my birthday, could I at least know how it feels to kiss you?

[somakemelaugh]

The young Earl had likely never begged in earnest for anything in his life, other than his brother's life. Neither of them were too willing to revisit that any time soon. That fright though, that had the reaper concerned, though he needed no explanation to see why.

Astre had likely never asked for a kiss before either, not as he was now.

For a moment, Undertaker stood in his silence, smile still gracing his features, and he shifted his weight to lean against the counter again. "It truly doesn't bother you, does it? Who I am to you. We never did act like it though, did we?"

How could Astre see him like that? The boy had known his entire life that Undertaker was only an informant, a confidant, an ally to his father, inherited when the former Earl had been killed. In truth, the reaper never had wanted to confess the lines drawn between them were more than just in business. What would that have done to the boy's world back in England had everyone known Astre's father was a bastard? No amount of parental love in the world would have saved him from being evicted from his own estate and stripped of the title he had worked so hard to crawl back from the dead and take back.

Undertaker could never allow that. And so he had pretended all was right and well with the world, as it should have been, and said nothing, only watching and from the side, supporting from the shadows.

Until Vincent had been killed.

And now, circumstance had pressed them into this moment. The Earl, no longer a boy, but a true man, still young for what he was, staring up at him in so much nervousness, the request still hanging between them. "I fear it may frighten you more, as much as you want this now, if I did kiss you. Not to say that I won't, but I know your hormones are racing away with you and it may be difficult to get your head back from them. If I do this and it does scare you, you might never see me the same again."

[sweetlies]

He really hadn't. Only when his brother had died, begging and pleading for someone to save them, to hurt the cultists, and oh... Oh how that had backfired on him. At least, so far as the 'help' having been a demon who came only after his brothers murder.

"Not really. I can only really see you as Undertaker." A friend and confidante, his most trusted ally and companion, and now... the object of his affection. Who makes his heart race and his hands shake.

He can feel his heart sink a bit though. It had taken so much to get this far and even then, he'd had to force the words out. It's not as bad as it could be, the reassurance that he didn't say he never would.

"I don't know that you could scare me away. If you haven't already, I don't know that you ever could. I don't know where I'd be without you but I know I wouldn't be the same person I am if it weren't for you."